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4/10/04
Went to visit the in-laws. While getting ready I checked the van?s oil- needed a quart, checked the water- needed some. Yes, I certainly performed my manly duties. Then, seized with the fear of a faulty water pump, I looked underneath for dripping. Big surprise, there was dripping. Of course there was dripping, I?d probably spilled a little. Not just fear, paranoia, because the last thing I want is to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with my family because of a stinkin? water pump that failed.
So to be sure I start it up and let it run to operating temperature, we?ll see if it really leaks of not. It?s dripping faster. But?.. check the overflow tank. Sure enough, with my crappy vision I?d put too much in the water tank and it?s spitting out the excess. But I have to be sure. Who do I espy buy Tom, my friendly neighbor. That would be Tom who can tear a car down to it?s frame and rebuild it. Handy Tom. I call him over. He can see no fluid being thrown on the firewall (why didn?t I think of that). He thinks it?s fine. Then the van it is, I tell the kids to load ?er up. I thank Handy Tom, and tell him that we?ll be gone till late Sunday night, so if he see?s anybody going into or out of the house he is to shoot to kill. He seems amused.
I noticed one of the front steps was working loose, so I figure that before we leave I?ll put a couple screws in it. Before I can the Petite Wife comes out, and in going down the steps the step falls in. Fortunately she is not hurt. I tell her that no way are we leaving this invitation to a lawsuit this way.
She says she can take a couple things back to the library, but then WE'VE GOT TO LEAVE. Well alrighty. I get some tin sheet, a tin snips, and some screws and cut some brackets to hold it in place. Having two drills makes it fairly easy, one to drill holes in the tin, one to drive the screws. She?s back before I?m done though. Nearly done, but not done. And WE HAVE GOT TO LEAVE. I heard you.
It?s done. Stand on it. Solid. Not to be confused with pretty, but solid. The Impatient Wife is happy. Step down and the bottom step falls in. Good Lord. Making two more brackets will test the Impatient Wife?s pressure capacity, let?s not go there. What we need here is a fast fix that?s still solid. It?s the bottom step, so just fill it in. Grab a couple of boards and force them under the step, hammer them just to make sure they?re tight. Test them- another solid fix. The Impatient Wife is happy, and we?re on our way.
Saturday, April 10, 2004
Thursday, April 08, 2004
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Another journey to Wal-Mart. That would not be blog-worthy except for Ms. Pikachu.
While going down one of the amply stocked aisles she screamed, yes, screamed, “Lint rollers! Everybody loves lint rollers!” She ran to the lint roller display farther down the aisle, grabbed two, and with one in each hand flapped her arms like wings while running up and down the aisles while continuing to yell, “Lint rollers! Everybody loves lint rollers!”
It set a precedent of some sort. When we walked down the vegetable aisle she yelled, “Green beans, everybody loves green beans!” and put a can of them in the cart. Not long after it was “Baked beans! Everybody loves baked beans!” She walked back to the cart with a one-gallon can of baked beans. No fooling, one gallon of Bush’s Best.
I told her that was nuts, put them back and get a smaller can. If she resisted I could see a negotiation that ended up with a couple of smaller cans. She would not compromise, she took it to a higher authority. She took it to the Super Wife. Who said it was okay, because they’d all get eaten. Alright, fine, cuz everybody loves baked beans.
As we walked through the store there seemed to be two kinds of customers- those who found Ms. Pikachu’s antics funny, and those who thought she should be in a psyche ward. Fortunately we didn’t run into anybody we knew.
Knowing that some people weren’t amused, and her displays might be perceived as rude, I tried to calm her down. But there was no slowing her down. She was manic and loving it. While I find it a bit irritating sometimes, it doesn’t bother me too much because she gets it from me. Funny how having the same problem makes one more indulgent, especially when it’s your genes at fault.
Another journey to Wal-Mart. That would not be blog-worthy except for Ms. Pikachu.
While going down one of the amply stocked aisles she screamed, yes, screamed, “Lint rollers! Everybody loves lint rollers!” She ran to the lint roller display farther down the aisle, grabbed two, and with one in each hand flapped her arms like wings while running up and down the aisles while continuing to yell, “Lint rollers! Everybody loves lint rollers!”
It set a precedent of some sort. When we walked down the vegetable aisle she yelled, “Green beans, everybody loves green beans!” and put a can of them in the cart. Not long after it was “Baked beans! Everybody loves baked beans!” She walked back to the cart with a one-gallon can of baked beans. No fooling, one gallon of Bush’s Best.
I told her that was nuts, put them back and get a smaller can. If she resisted I could see a negotiation that ended up with a couple of smaller cans. She would not compromise, she took it to a higher authority. She took it to the Super Wife. Who said it was okay, because they’d all get eaten. Alright, fine, cuz everybody loves baked beans.
As we walked through the store there seemed to be two kinds of customers- those who found Ms. Pikachu’s antics funny, and those who thought she should be in a psyche ward. Fortunately we didn’t run into anybody we knew.
Knowing that some people weren’t amused, and her displays might be perceived as rude, I tried to calm her down. But there was no slowing her down. She was manic and loving it. While I find it a bit irritating sometimes, it doesn’t bother me too much because she gets it from me. Funny how having the same problem makes one more indulgent, especially when it’s your genes at fault.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
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Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Having done our “official” Seder last night, the Holy Wife had no problems with starting a second one as soon as everybody was together. Instead of starting where we left off we did the whole thing over again. The Holy Wife was in her element, she was happy.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Having done our “official” Seder last night, the Holy Wife had no problems with starting a second one as soon as everybody was together. Instead of starting where we left off we did the whole thing over again. The Holy Wife was in her element, she was happy.
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
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I’m off work the rest of the week, the facial pain can’t be totally suppressed. I’m taking the limit of tegretol and it keeps me from having the worst pain, and I’m grateful for that. But it’s still too painful to talk much. There’s no way I can interview the public with the pain I’m having. The neurologist gave me an excuse good until my appointment with him on the 12th. On the one hand, I feel awful leaving my unit shorthanded, on the other hand I feel like a kid who got out of school. Which is to say- I’m conflicted, but dealing with it rather well.
I have around six months of sick leave built up. I shouldn’t say “oh boy”, but, oh boy.
Dai Dai Ainu, Dai Dai Ainu, Dai Dai Ainu, Dai Ainu, Dai Anu
This can only mean one thing. Our little Christian family is celebrating Passover. There’s a girl next door or Ms. Pikachu’s age that wants to partake. Okay, but you need your parents’ approval. She comes back and it’s okay, she just has to be home by 8:30. Passover Seder starts at sunset, no way is it going to be over by 8:30.
She stays and enjoys herself. Normally I would read aloud from the Haggadah but the facial pain won’t permit it. The Holy Wife does a fine job. We send our neighbor home just before 8:30. Before leaving the Holy Wife tells her we can pick it up tomorrow after they get home from school. Dear God. Two Seders? That’s a lot of Seder. Is she a Holy Wife or what?
She must be since she got a six year-old to eat a hillel sandwich. A hillel sandwich is two small pieces of matzoh with horseradish on the front end, and a mixture of charoset, apples, honey, nuts, etc on the back end. Charoset is quite yummy.
Why this odd sandwich? The horseradish is like the taste of our sin in God’s mouth. The charoset is an antidote, his sweet grace, in ours.
Anyway, Ms. Pikachu had great fun teasing Trainboy about the horseradish. Using chopped horseradish will bring tears to your eyes, so it’s not a fun thing. However, we got creamy horseradish- considerably more bearable. Ms. Pikachu scared Trainboy right out of eating it. He refused, or so he thought. The Holy Wife’s powers of persuasion are powerful indeed. He ate the sandwich, and we finished the Seder.
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Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
I’m off work the rest of the week, the facial pain can’t be totally suppressed. I’m taking the limit of tegretol and it keeps me from having the worst pain, and I’m grateful for that. But it’s still too painful to talk much. There’s no way I can interview the public with the pain I’m having. The neurologist gave me an excuse good until my appointment with him on the 12th. On the one hand, I feel awful leaving my unit shorthanded, on the other hand I feel like a kid who got out of school. Which is to say- I’m conflicted, but dealing with it rather well.
I have around six months of sick leave built up. I shouldn’t say “oh boy”, but, oh boy.
Dai Dai Ainu, Dai Dai Ainu, Dai Dai Ainu, Dai Ainu, Dai Anu
This can only mean one thing. Our little Christian family is celebrating Passover. There’s a girl next door or Ms. Pikachu’s age that wants to partake. Okay, but you need your parents’ approval. She comes back and it’s okay, she just has to be home by 8:30. Passover Seder starts at sunset, no way is it going to be over by 8:30.
She stays and enjoys herself. Normally I would read aloud from the Haggadah but the facial pain won’t permit it. The Holy Wife does a fine job. We send our neighbor home just before 8:30. Before leaving the Holy Wife tells her we can pick it up tomorrow after they get home from school. Dear God. Two Seders? That’s a lot of Seder. Is she a Holy Wife or what?
She must be since she got a six year-old to eat a hillel sandwich. A hillel sandwich is two small pieces of matzoh with horseradish on the front end, and a mixture of charoset, apples, honey, nuts, etc on the back end. Charoset is quite yummy.
Why this odd sandwich? The horseradish is like the taste of our sin in God’s mouth. The charoset is an antidote, his sweet grace, in ours.
Anyway, Ms. Pikachu had great fun teasing Trainboy about the horseradish. Using chopped horseradish will bring tears to your eyes, so it’s not a fun thing. However, we got creamy horseradish- considerably more bearable. Ms. Pikachu scared Trainboy right out of eating it. He refused, or so he thought. The Holy Wife’s powers of persuasion are powerful indeed. He ate the sandwich, and we finished the Seder.
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Monday, April 05, 2004
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At work today a woman who works next door and reads my blog was feeling sympathetic after my last pitiful entry. Donna brought me some flowers to cheer me up. God bless her. It’s nice to look over occasionally and see them. It’s kind of amazing how a thoughtful gesture can affect you. Too bad it can’t stop my recurring facial pain.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
At work today a woman who works next door and reads my blog was feeling sympathetic after my last pitiful entry. Donna brought me some flowers to cheer me up. God bless her. It’s nice to look over occasionally and see them. It’s kind of amazing how a thoughtful gesture can affect you. Too bad it can’t stop my recurring facial pain.
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Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Woke up on the couch. Super Nurse must certainly be home. She certainly was. Not in kitchen, check fridge - sandwich not eaten, oh well, check bathroom- nothing, check bedroom- she's laying there looking at book orders for the kids. God she's beautiful. She said she just wasn't hungry because she ate that much for lunch. Okay. I told her I'd checked out the cranial nerves on the web and the ones involving the eyes were more complicated than I could understand. I couldn't figure out how to bang my head to fix my eye problem. She was glad. She rolls away from me and I snuggle up behind her. It's just bliss to be so close.
Can't go to sleep. Try to go to sleep. Can't go to sleep and a half-hour's gone. Must have been all the napping. I whisper "I'm sorry." She half-rolls back and says "huh?" Thought she was asleep, crap. Wanted to tell her, "I'm sorry I'm such a burden. You and the kids deserve so much better. I'm sorry you married me." Just too much of a coward to say it while she was awake. Can't sleep. Wait another half-hour and get out of bed, might as well blog.
I hate this tumor. I hate feeling like a burden. I hate wishing my kids had a better father. I hate wishing my wife had a better husband. I hate wishing I wasn't me. Dammit, I'm crying again. I've cried too much lately.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Woke up on the couch. Super Nurse must certainly be home. She certainly was. Not in kitchen, check fridge - sandwich not eaten, oh well, check bathroom- nothing, check bedroom- she's laying there looking at book orders for the kids. God she's beautiful. She said she just wasn't hungry because she ate that much for lunch. Okay. I told her I'd checked out the cranial nerves on the web and the ones involving the eyes were more complicated than I could understand. I couldn't figure out how to bang my head to fix my eye problem. She was glad. She rolls away from me and I snuggle up behind her. It's just bliss to be so close.
Can't go to sleep. Try to go to sleep. Can't go to sleep and a half-hour's gone. Must have been all the napping. I whisper "I'm sorry." She half-rolls back and says "huh?" Thought she was asleep, crap. Wanted to tell her, "I'm sorry I'm such a burden. You and the kids deserve so much better. I'm sorry you married me." Just too much of a coward to say it while she was awake. Can't sleep. Wait another half-hour and get out of bed, might as well blog.
I hate this tumor. I hate feeling like a burden. I hate wishing my kids had a better father. I hate wishing my wife had a better husband. I hate wishing I wasn't me. Dammit, I'm crying again. I've cried too much lately.
Sunday, April 04, 2004
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Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Around 7:00 the kids decide they're hungry again. Well allrighty, and what will your order be. Big surprise, chicken nuggets for Trainboy, Cheeseburger for Ms. Pikachu. I'm sitting on the floor, Trainboy comes over to me, puts his hand on my shoulder and says, "Get it from the Wendys that's closest," My little micromanager. No problem.
In addition, I get Ms. Pikachu her own chili so we can avoid another chili war. And I get the wife a grilled chicken sandwich with veggies, because that would be low-fat and she would like that. I aim to please.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Around 7:00 the kids decide they're hungry again. Well allrighty, and what will your order be. Big surprise, chicken nuggets for Trainboy, Cheeseburger for Ms. Pikachu. I'm sitting on the floor, Trainboy comes over to me, puts his hand on my shoulder and says, "Get it from the Wendys that's closest," My little micromanager. No problem.
In addition, I get Ms. Pikachu her own chili so we can avoid another chili war. And I get the wife a grilled chicken sandwich with veggies, because that would be low-fat and she would like that. I aim to please.
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Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
4/4/04
Church, of course.
Lunch at Hy Vee. I ordered the fish just to keep the kids off balance. It was a mistake though. If you don’t have the right tartar sauce fish is hardly edible. I also got sweet potatoes because they are one of the Super Wife’s favorite foods and I just wanted to share them with her.
As we were seating ourselves because, oddly enough, the grocery store doesn’t have a maitre’d on Sundays, Trainboy riddled- “What do you call a sister with half a brain?” …. “gifted.” The Super Wife laughed. Ms. Pikachu said, “I don’t get it.” She of the straight A report card didn’t get it. Hah. What is this educational system coming to?
When we got home our neighbor Tom, the Super Fix-it Guy was trying to get his cat out of the tree across the street. It is a tall tree indeed. I told him my Dad always said a cat would come down when it got hungry enough. (Everyone nods at such wisdom.) I had no sympathy for the cat anyway. It was probably up there to kill birds. Let it starve.
Tom threw rocks at the cat to try to encourage it to retreat from the limb and come down. Even something as dumb as a cat that trees itself probably doesn’t want to come down a tree and get closer to somebody throwing rocks at it. More rocks, the cat retreats to the tree trunk. More rocks, the cat runs back out on the limb. You just can’t beat urban living.
Ms. Pikachu asked if she could volunteer my paintball gun. She has lost all contact with reality. “No.” She goes outside. She comes back inside. She asks again. “No.” Out. In. She’s going to nag till she gets what she wants. I am a weenie. Sadly, the system works. Okay, fine. Let’s be realistic here, does he really want to get paint all over his cat? Does he really want to risk knocking it right off of the tree? As if logic mattered. She just wants to shoot the cat. She comes back disheartened- he refused her offer.
I asked Trainboy if he wanted to help feed the birds. He thought it was a good idea. I grabbed the feed and a stepstool and away we went. I held the top of the feeder open, he climbed up and shoveled the feed in. I love those bonding moments.
Five hours later the cat is still up the tree making its pitiful mewling. But I have no pity for it. At least while it’s up there it isn’t threatening any other birds, and that’s what’s important, isn’t it?
The rest of the day looks to be laundry, TV, whatever home improvement I get around to doing, and I may not get around to doing any. Ah weekends.
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Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
4/4/04
Church, of course.
Lunch at Hy Vee. I ordered the fish just to keep the kids off balance. It was a mistake though. If you don’t have the right tartar sauce fish is hardly edible. I also got sweet potatoes because they are one of the Super Wife’s favorite foods and I just wanted to share them with her.
As we were seating ourselves because, oddly enough, the grocery store doesn’t have a maitre’d on Sundays, Trainboy riddled- “What do you call a sister with half a brain?” …. “gifted.” The Super Wife laughed. Ms. Pikachu said, “I don’t get it.” She of the straight A report card didn’t get it. Hah. What is this educational system coming to?
When we got home our neighbor Tom, the Super Fix-it Guy was trying to get his cat out of the tree across the street. It is a tall tree indeed. I told him my Dad always said a cat would come down when it got hungry enough. (Everyone nods at such wisdom.) I had no sympathy for the cat anyway. It was probably up there to kill birds. Let it starve.
Tom threw rocks at the cat to try to encourage it to retreat from the limb and come down. Even something as dumb as a cat that trees itself probably doesn’t want to come down a tree and get closer to somebody throwing rocks at it. More rocks, the cat retreats to the tree trunk. More rocks, the cat runs back out on the limb. You just can’t beat urban living.
Ms. Pikachu asked if she could volunteer my paintball gun. She has lost all contact with reality. “No.” She goes outside. She comes back inside. She asks again. “No.” Out. In. She’s going to nag till she gets what she wants. I am a weenie. Sadly, the system works. Okay, fine. Let’s be realistic here, does he really want to get paint all over his cat? Does he really want to risk knocking it right off of the tree? As if logic mattered. She just wants to shoot the cat. She comes back disheartened- he refused her offer.
I asked Trainboy if he wanted to help feed the birds. He thought it was a good idea. I grabbed the feed and a stepstool and away we went. I held the top of the feeder open, he climbed up and shoveled the feed in. I love those bonding moments.
Five hours later the cat is still up the tree making its pitiful mewling. But I have no pity for it. At least while it’s up there it isn’t threatening any other birds, and that’s what’s important, isn’t it?
The rest of the day looks to be laundry, TV, whatever home improvement I get around to doing, and I may not get around to doing any. Ah weekends.
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