05/01/04
My brother called and asked if I could pick up two auto parts for him from a junkyard here that had them. No problem. I wrote down his description of the parts and brought it along. Sure enough, the face hurt when it was my turn to talk to the parts man. I showed him what I’d written down and he said, “No problem, have a seat over there.” At times like that, when I can hardly talk, I really feel pathetic. With the depressants going I just want to sit there and cry. But I didn’t.
Then it was home. Picked up the kids, and away we went. When we got there he said he wanted to get his internet connection working on his new computer. He couldn’t find the installation disc for it. Crap. What to do, what to do? Well, I could try to copy the information over file by file in the ‘Internet Options’ folder. It seemed kind of risky, but kind of fun too.
If anyone ever offers to try that for you, you slap them and send them out the door. After this tech adventure his computer wouldn’t run for more than a few minutes before it would generate ‘System Shutting Down in 60 Seconds.’ It was a Hewlett-Packard, and, unlike my Compaq it doesn’t have a disc that will restore the system. It doesn’t even have a Windows disc. You’re supposed to restore it to its last saved Restore point. The only Restore Point it had was after I’d started monkeying with it.
Eventually I had to give up because I had to get the kids home so they’d get enough sleep before Sunday School. Oh well, there’s always next Saturday.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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Saturday, May 01, 2004
Friday, April 30, 2004
The Super Wife and I picked up a few things at Hy Vee. When I got a drink at the deli section one of the guys said, “Oh, there’s one of our regulars.” I was surprised. I could understand them remembering the Super Wife because she’s gorgeous. I could understand them remembering the kids because they’re a circus, but me? There’s nothing memorable about me, except the company I keep.
Speaking of circuses, while we were out we picked up some tickets for the Greatest Show On Earth that’s coming to town. We didn’t go to a Ticketmaster outlet; we went to the Box Office so we could choose our seats. It’s not like us to be early, but there we were, buying tickets a month ahead of the event.
There was window open and nobody in line. The ticket clerk was so bored she could have worked a window at the Post Office. She was as helpful as her reduced state of consciousness would allow. Cheap seats, or expensive seats, take your pick. Down there, or up here. If I’d been alone I’d have bought the expensive seats in a second. You only get to see the circus once a year so you may as well enjoy it. But there was a catch. The Thrifty Wife, She Who Does Not Like To Spend Money, accompanied me.
The clerk asked which seats we wanted. Well I knew what I wanted, but was fairly sure it wasn’t what the Thrifty Wife wanted. I hemmed, I hawed. The clerk pushed and prodded. She wanted us to make a decision so we could complete the transaction and she could resume her meditative state.
After twenty years of marriage the Super Wife probably knows when I’m just too much of a weenie to venture my own opinion. Finally the Thrifty Wife said she thought we should get the expensive seats. There was instant agreement from me. If you’re willing to spend the money early do you know where that will get you? I’ll tell you- first row, center.
The kids are going to have fun; at least they’d better. I’m going to have fun,
unless the doctors schedule me for something on that day. If so, I’ll have to refuse them. It isn’t every day you get to take the kids to a circus and go nose to nose with the clowns and exotic livestock. We’ll be able to smell the elephants, not that I want to. Actually, I don’t even want to smell the clowns. Maybe we should have gone with the cheap seats.
Speaking of circuses, while we were out we picked up some tickets for the Greatest Show On Earth that’s coming to town. We didn’t go to a Ticketmaster outlet; we went to the Box Office so we could choose our seats. It’s not like us to be early, but there we were, buying tickets a month ahead of the event.
There was window open and nobody in line. The ticket clerk was so bored she could have worked a window at the Post Office. She was as helpful as her reduced state of consciousness would allow. Cheap seats, or expensive seats, take your pick. Down there, or up here. If I’d been alone I’d have bought the expensive seats in a second. You only get to see the circus once a year so you may as well enjoy it. But there was a catch. The Thrifty Wife, She Who Does Not Like To Spend Money, accompanied me.
The clerk asked which seats we wanted. Well I knew what I wanted, but was fairly sure it wasn’t what the Thrifty Wife wanted. I hemmed, I hawed. The clerk pushed and prodded. She wanted us to make a decision so we could complete the transaction and she could resume her meditative state.
After twenty years of marriage the Super Wife probably knows when I’m just too much of a weenie to venture my own opinion. Finally the Thrifty Wife said she thought we should get the expensive seats. There was instant agreement from me. If you’re willing to spend the money early do you know where that will get you? I’ll tell you- first row, center.
The kids are going to have fun; at least they’d better. I’m going to have fun,
unless the doctors schedule me for something on that day. If so, I’ll have to refuse them. It isn’t every day you get to take the kids to a circus and go nose to nose with the clowns and exotic livestock. We’ll be able to smell the elephants, not that I want to. Actually, I don’t even want to smell the clowns. Maybe we should have gone with the cheap seats.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
04/29/04
The Super Wife called U of Ia again and asked when I could be scheduled to see them. Once again she was told that they didn’t have everything they needed, yadda, yadda, yadda. She asked them why Mayo would have seen me by now, but I couldn’t even get scheduled at Iowa City. Why there were NEW policies and regulations requiring them to get even more documentation before they could schedule me. Then they’d have to consult their calendar.
So much BS. Iowa City is a university/government hospital. You can’t fool me, whoever was in charge of getting me in didn’t want to deal with me. She was hoping I’d either give up and go to Mayo, or die. It was gummint service at its worst. Considering the quality of care I’m seeing I’d gladly go to Mayo, but we’re still in the school year and the Super Mom doesn’t want to remove the kids from school.
So the Super Wife called my neurologist and told them I couldn’t get an appointment down there, and does the good doctor have any kind of pull that could get me booked down there? Well, she’d see. A half-hour later the U of Ia called and said I was booked for next Wednesday. He must have some pull. As for me, I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
Later in the Evening
The Thrifty Wife had gotten free tickets to see a guy who does illusions/magic with an ecology theme, -SteveTrash. Oh boy. Here’s a trick for you, free us from our dependency on middle-eastern oil, huh, huh? My attitude did not matter as much as the fact the tickets were free, and so we went.
This will shock you as much as it shocked me- we got there early. On the one hand that’s a good thing, on the other hand it’s not. On the one hand we got decent seats, on the other hand since we were just sitting there waiting my medication put me right to sleep. It was a one-hour show and I woke up just in time to catch his last illusion.
You might wonder why the Holy Wife didn’t wake me up. Was it compassion, and she was just letting me sleep? I don’t think so. I think it had more to do with the Trashman having two assistants who wore mini-skirts and go-go boots. That’s just a theory, I’m not about to ask her.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
The Super Wife called U of Ia again and asked when I could be scheduled to see them. Once again she was told that they didn’t have everything they needed, yadda, yadda, yadda. She asked them why Mayo would have seen me by now, but I couldn’t even get scheduled at Iowa City. Why there were NEW policies and regulations requiring them to get even more documentation before they could schedule me. Then they’d have to consult their calendar.
So much BS. Iowa City is a university/government hospital. You can’t fool me, whoever was in charge of getting me in didn’t want to deal with me. She was hoping I’d either give up and go to Mayo, or die. It was gummint service at its worst. Considering the quality of care I’m seeing I’d gladly go to Mayo, but we’re still in the school year and the Super Mom doesn’t want to remove the kids from school.
So the Super Wife called my neurologist and told them I couldn’t get an appointment down there, and does the good doctor have any kind of pull that could get me booked down there? Well, she’d see. A half-hour later the U of Ia called and said I was booked for next Wednesday. He must have some pull. As for me, I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
Later in the Evening
The Thrifty Wife had gotten free tickets to see a guy who does illusions/magic with an ecology theme, -SteveTrash. Oh boy. Here’s a trick for you, free us from our dependency on middle-eastern oil, huh, huh? My attitude did not matter as much as the fact the tickets were free, and so we went.
This will shock you as much as it shocked me- we got there early. On the one hand that’s a good thing, on the other hand it’s not. On the one hand we got decent seats, on the other hand since we were just sitting there waiting my medication put me right to sleep. It was a one-hour show and I woke up just in time to catch his last illusion.
You might wonder why the Holy Wife didn’t wake me up. Was it compassion, and she was just letting me sleep? I don’t think so. I think it had more to do with the Trashman having two assistants who wore mini-skirts and go-go boots. That’s just a theory, I’m not about to ask her.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
04/28/04
Train Boy learned his last four verses for Awanas. He was one of a very few that completed his book this year. The Holy Wife worked with him every week to make sure he learned some verses. He often grumbled and complained, but he did them.
When they got home the Holy Wife was more excited than he was. She showed me the badge he'd earned. She also told me that he'd earned more shares to spend at the store. They had a Store Night too, so he bought himself a Bionicle with some of his shares. Another boy in his group wanted one, but didn't have enough shares. Train Boy gave him ten shares so he could get a Bionicle too. He's a sweet boy.
I had bought a 1:18 scale Super Cobra helicopter when they had one, and only one, at Wal-Mart. It's been kept downstairs until he had a suitable event. Since he'd had a big night I gave it to him. Assembled it was almost three feet from front rotor tip to rear rotor tip. It's big. He was happy with it.
Ms. Pikachu has earned a Christopher Award and it's bigger than an Academy Award. Her report card came in the mail and it was all A's and A minuses. She's on a roll, and being a smart child she knows this is the time to ask for something. So she asked for a Palm Pilot, but if she can't have a Palm Pilot she'll settle for her own cell phone. She knows how to negotiate. In a few years she'll probably start asking for protection money instead of an allowance.
But it all just goes to show that behind every successful kid is a mother saying, "Are you done with your homework yet." Because it isn't me, I assure you of that. I just watch 'Ed, Edd and Eddie' with them, and shoot an occasional rocket.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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Train Boy learned his last four verses for Awanas. He was one of a very few that completed his book this year. The Holy Wife worked with him every week to make sure he learned some verses. He often grumbled and complained, but he did them.
When they got home the Holy Wife was more excited than he was. She showed me the badge he'd earned. She also told me that he'd earned more shares to spend at the store. They had a Store Night too, so he bought himself a Bionicle with some of his shares. Another boy in his group wanted one, but didn't have enough shares. Train Boy gave him ten shares so he could get a Bionicle too. He's a sweet boy.
I had bought a 1:18 scale Super Cobra helicopter when they had one, and only one, at Wal-Mart. It's been kept downstairs until he had a suitable event. Since he'd had a big night I gave it to him. Assembled it was almost three feet from front rotor tip to rear rotor tip. It's big. He was happy with it.
Ms. Pikachu has earned a Christopher Award and it's bigger than an Academy Award. Her report card came in the mail and it was all A's and A minuses. She's on a roll, and being a smart child she knows this is the time to ask for something. So she asked for a Palm Pilot, but if she can't have a Palm Pilot she'll settle for her own cell phone. She knows how to negotiate. In a few years she'll probably start asking for protection money instead of an allowance.
But it all just goes to show that behind every successful kid is a mother saying, "Are you done with your homework yet." Because it isn't me, I assure you of that. I just watch 'Ed, Edd and Eddie' with them, and shoot an occasional rocket.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
4/27/04
I can't remember anything worth writing about that happened today. So I'm just going to post a Super Nurse story.
Whenever the Super Nurse cares for a veteran she thanks them for their service.
This past weekend she was taking care of a fellow and when she looked at his chart she figured he was old enough to be a Korean Vet. So she asked him if he served during Korea. He said, why yes he did. She said, "Thank you for serving." He told her that, "While I served 'during Korea' I was stationed in Paris, France. Thank you for sending me."
As Gomer Pyle would say, "Surprise, surprise, surprise."
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
4/27/04
I can't remember anything worth writing about that happened today. So I'm just going to post a Super Nurse story.
Whenever the Super Nurse cares for a veteran she thanks them for their service.
This past weekend she was taking care of a fellow and when she looked at his chart she figured he was old enough to be a Korean Vet. So she asked him if he served during Korea. He said, why yes he did. She said, "Thank you for serving." He told her that, "While I served 'during Korea' I was stationed in Paris, France. Thank you for sending me."
As Gomer Pyle would say, "Surprise, surprise, surprise."
Monday, April 26, 2004
4/26/04
No word yet from the hospital. Face still hurts too much to go to work so I had to stay home. I'm coping the best I can.
The Super Wife informed me that Train Boy had a school walk early in the afternoon. I could continue being a useless bag of water, or I could join them. Being an astute fellow I picked up on the clues real fast and decided to join them.
His teacher lives about a half-mile from the school and the walk was to her place. The survivors got the bonus of also walking back.
On the way the teacher told the kids they could pick a dandelion. All the kids were happy to do so, and quickly did it, except Train Boy. He surveyed the land in front of him with a critical eye. He looked and looked, and he had a hard time picking one. None of the dandelions seemed to meet his standards. Eventually he picked a violet and gave it to his Mom. This is a boy with his own ideas.
Every kid had a walking partner and held hands with their partner. We were at the back of the line. Train Boy held his Mom's hand. I was Tail-End Charlie and responsible for stragglers. The Super Wife handed me the violet so I was also Keeper of the Violet. It was one thing after another; I might as well have gone in to work.
When we crossed the road I stood in the middle of it. I was by far the tallest person there so I made the best crossing guard. Nobody got hurt, so I didn't have to hurt any drivers. Everybody was happy.
At the teacher's house she had a small pond, a chicken coop, and a rabbit hutch. The kids were excited. For reasons I'll never know the teacher opened the door to the chicken coop. Seeing the opportunity for freedom one of the chickens bolted. It ran right by me. A rather bold move for a chicken.
It probably had one of those uncanny animal senses that seems so spooky to those of us who don't watch 'The Other Side.' It knew I did not eat poultry. It knew I was not a threat. It clucked by me like I wasn't even there, buck-buck-buck.
Unfortunately for the chicken, its expectations of freedom were easily met. As soon as it got by me it hid behind a bush. Or maybe it was just stupid. Nobody ever refers to a chicken as an example of sparkling intelligence. Nobody ever says, "Now what would a chicken do?"
I was the last in line. I was the closest to the chicken. It was time to show I was not totally useless. I stepped around to the far side of the bush and shook it. Terrified, the chicken ran back to the safety of its coop. There's probably a moral in there, but I don't care. Now I'm a Keeper of the Flower, Crossing Guard, Bush Shaker, and a Chicken Wrangler too. More under 'Other Duties As Assigned.' At least I now know I can outsmart a chicken. Hooray for me.
Then she got a bunny out for the kids to pet. God, will it never end? She asked me if I wanted to pet it too. I didn't want to as it obviously cringed in fear. Using one of its spooky animal senses it probably knew I'd once bought the Super Wife a rabbit coat. Yes, I saw fear in its eye, and I didn't want it to flee, resulting in more chasing and bush shaking. I declined.
On the way back to the school I once again stood in the middle of the street, offering myself as the first target of opportunity for any hung-over employees working the afternoon shift. I handed the violet back to the Super Wife and cautioned her that it was a Flower of Great Care. What has happened to it I do not know, but I did my part.
Back at the classroom Train Boy loudly informed his teacher that his Dad can fix anything. He also told a classmate that his Dad fixed the sound on the computer. There are easier things than living up to the expectations of a six year-old child. But I'll try. I've just got to try.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
No word yet from the hospital. Face still hurts too much to go to work so I had to stay home. I'm coping the best I can.
The Super Wife informed me that Train Boy had a school walk early in the afternoon. I could continue being a useless bag of water, or I could join them. Being an astute fellow I picked up on the clues real fast and decided to join them.
His teacher lives about a half-mile from the school and the walk was to her place. The survivors got the bonus of also walking back.
On the way the teacher told the kids they could pick a dandelion. All the kids were happy to do so, and quickly did it, except Train Boy. He surveyed the land in front of him with a critical eye. He looked and looked, and he had a hard time picking one. None of the dandelions seemed to meet his standards. Eventually he picked a violet and gave it to his Mom. This is a boy with his own ideas.
Every kid had a walking partner and held hands with their partner. We were at the back of the line. Train Boy held his Mom's hand. I was Tail-End Charlie and responsible for stragglers. The Super Wife handed me the violet so I was also Keeper of the Violet. It was one thing after another; I might as well have gone in to work.
When we crossed the road I stood in the middle of it. I was by far the tallest person there so I made the best crossing guard. Nobody got hurt, so I didn't have to hurt any drivers. Everybody was happy.
At the teacher's house she had a small pond, a chicken coop, and a rabbit hutch. The kids were excited. For reasons I'll never know the teacher opened the door to the chicken coop. Seeing the opportunity for freedom one of the chickens bolted. It ran right by me. A rather bold move for a chicken.
It probably had one of those uncanny animal senses that seems so spooky to those of us who don't watch 'The Other Side.' It knew I did not eat poultry. It knew I was not a threat. It clucked by me like I wasn't even there, buck-buck-buck.
Unfortunately for the chicken, its expectations of freedom were easily met. As soon as it got by me it hid behind a bush. Or maybe it was just stupid. Nobody ever refers to a chicken as an example of sparkling intelligence. Nobody ever says, "Now what would a chicken do?"
I was the last in line. I was the closest to the chicken. It was time to show I was not totally useless. I stepped around to the far side of the bush and shook it. Terrified, the chicken ran back to the safety of its coop. There's probably a moral in there, but I don't care. Now I'm a Keeper of the Flower, Crossing Guard, Bush Shaker, and a Chicken Wrangler too. More under 'Other Duties As Assigned.' At least I now know I can outsmart a chicken. Hooray for me.
Then she got a bunny out for the kids to pet. God, will it never end? She asked me if I wanted to pet it too. I didn't want to as it obviously cringed in fear. Using one of its spooky animal senses it probably knew I'd once bought the Super Wife a rabbit coat. Yes, I saw fear in its eye, and I didn't want it to flee, resulting in more chasing and bush shaking. I declined.
On the way back to the school I once again stood in the middle of the street, offering myself as the first target of opportunity for any hung-over employees working the afternoon shift. I handed the violet back to the Super Wife and cautioned her that it was a Flower of Great Care. What has happened to it I do not know, but I did my part.
Back at the classroom Train Boy loudly informed his teacher that his Dad can fix anything. He also told a classmate that his Dad fixed the sound on the computer. There are easier things than living up to the expectations of a six year-old child. But I'll try. I've just got to try.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
Sunday, April 25, 2004
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
04/25/04
Church and lunch for starters. Where to eat? Decisions, decisions. It was decided that since we’ve become Hy’Vee’s Sunday Family, and we didn’t eat there last week, we would eat there. Everybody got Chinese except for me; I got meatloaf again.
While we were eating Ms. Pikachu once more complained about the smell of my meatloaf. I told her I didn’t understand her problem, she should just think of it as one of her hamburgers run through a blender with extra ketchup. It obviously did not help her deal with it.
She finished her food. She ate some of her Mom’s, she ate some of Train Boy’s. She’s definitely going through a growth spurt. She still finished before I did so she headed off to do some shopping. On her way past me she pointed and said, “Dad, I think your meatloaf has pneumonia.” It was a surprisingly effective way to kill my appetite for it.
So I ate some lemon pie with my coffee and life still seemed pretty good. Then she came back. She looked at the meatloaf again and slowly said, “Maybe that’s anthrax.” Pause. “Or it could be the bird flu.” Not content to kill my appetite she danced on its grave.
Later on I went to Target to get some brushes to stain the steps, and some screwdrivers to take the old steps apart. I don’t know why it is but I can never keep screwdrivers. Every couple of years I have to buy another pack of them. When I got home I set them down and it wasn’t long before Ms. Pikachu walked in. On seeing them she said, “Arts and crafts, I love them!” She’s not a teenager and I can’t keep up with her.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
04/25/04
Church and lunch for starters. Where to eat? Decisions, decisions. It was decided that since we’ve become Hy’Vee’s Sunday Family, and we didn’t eat there last week, we would eat there. Everybody got Chinese except for me; I got meatloaf again.
While we were eating Ms. Pikachu once more complained about the smell of my meatloaf. I told her I didn’t understand her problem, she should just think of it as one of her hamburgers run through a blender with extra ketchup. It obviously did not help her deal with it.
She finished her food. She ate some of her Mom’s, she ate some of Train Boy’s. She’s definitely going through a growth spurt. She still finished before I did so she headed off to do some shopping. On her way past me she pointed and said, “Dad, I think your meatloaf has pneumonia.” It was a surprisingly effective way to kill my appetite for it.
So I ate some lemon pie with my coffee and life still seemed pretty good. Then she came back. She looked at the meatloaf again and slowly said, “Maybe that’s anthrax.” Pause. “Or it could be the bird flu.” Not content to kill my appetite she danced on its grave.
Later on I went to Target to get some brushes to stain the steps, and some screwdrivers to take the old steps apart. I don’t know why it is but I can never keep screwdrivers. Every couple of years I have to buy another pack of them. When I got home I set them down and it wasn’t long before Ms. Pikachu walked in. On seeing them she said, “Arts and crafts, I love them!” She’s not a teenager and I can’t keep up with her.