6/13
The Super Nurse was back in Davenport, watching her Mom. She took a break, and when she came back she noticed that the insulin had been turned up. That may sound like she’s diabetic, but she’s not. It’s apparently a standard thing to do to patients in an ICU. Blood sugar level has a significant effect on healing, ask any diabetic, so it’s controlled closely.
So the Super Nurse asked the nurse why the insulin was turned up. ‘Because she has a blood sugar level over 400.’ Super Nurse was appalled. ‘She’s not a brittle diabetic. She’s been on tube feedings for weeks. Think. A blood sugar that high is impossible.’ The nurse was sure that no mistake had been made. Super Nurse knew it was wrong. She demanded a retest.
The nurse stuck a needle in the end of the PICC line, made a draw, and said, ‘There, that’s done.’ Super Nurse was even more appalled. She was pushing the appalled envelope. Super Nurse informed the nurse that she couldn’t use that sample- that blood had been stagnant in the line. To get a good sample enough blood has to be pulled through to be fresh, that would take at least 5 cc’s. After discarding that old blood, THEN you take the sample.
Super Nurse told the nurse she wanted the blood sugar test by doing a stick on her Mom’s ear. Her Mom consented. The sample was taken and her blood sugar was…. 43. If a person is fasting their blood sugar might get as low as 80. Clare was well down the road to diabetic coma and death.
Super Nurse was not happy. But knowing mistakes can be made she did not scream or yell. Nope. In the spirit of Christian love the Super Nurse put on a PICC line care clinic. Ya gotta love her. By time time Super Nurse was done the nurse was well-schooled. Unfortunately, the nurse was a poor student. Every time the nurse came in and disconnected the PICC line Super Nurse had to remind her to swab it with alcohol for at least 30 seconds before putting it back together. Every time.
Super Nurse is upset. Some of the nurses have been outstanding, but when you have one that doesn’t know how to safely do the job you fear for the safety of the patient. Super Nurse will go toe to toe with the Administration tomorrow. This could be interesting.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
I had a nice moment today, Sunday. Super Wife showed me a questionaire that Ms. Pikachu had done at school. One of the things was "Most Admired Person." Yup, she wrote, "My dad." Apparently that's what I get for giving her chocolate when she craves it. Everybody has their price, you just need to know the currency.
This evening I told Super Wife that we should do something for Train Boy's birthday. With Ms. Pikachu it was always a big 'something.' I told her that maybe on his birthday we could take him and his friend Benjamin to Chuck E Cheese. She thought that wouldn't work- his birthday is on Wednesday, and Ms. Pikachu has Youth Group on Wednesday nights. I said that's ok, she doesn't want to go to Chuck E Cheese anymore anyway. Just taking the boys would be fine, and it would be a special day for Train Boy. So will you call Benjamin's mom and ask? "Not today, tomorrow." Why not? It's only nine o-clock on a Sunday evening, do you have reason to suspect they're normal? Well, at least I tried.
It wasn't much of a Sunday, almost ninety degrees and I mowed the lawn. Sweat City. The Super Wife is happy to have the lawn cut as short as the neighbor's, so it was worth it. Admittedly, a rancher asked about grazing rights, so maybe it did need a cutting. So she was happy about the lawn, but not for long.
She talked to her sister to find out how their Mom is doing and was told that now Clare has a bacterial blood infection. As if enough hasn't happened already. Super Nurse is just sure the infection was caused by sloppy procedure on the part of Clare's nurses. They routinely disconnect the PICC line to make their work easier. The problem is that every time they disconnect the line it's another risk of infection. Do it a lot, and infection almost becomes a certainty. Super Nurse says that where she works PICC lines are only disconnected if absolutely necessary, and then they're swabbed with disinfectant for at least thirty seconds. At the hospital the nurses just give it a quick wipe and slap it together. Super Nurse is REALLY NOT HAPPY. Tomorrow she's going to drive back and talk to the nurse manager about their lack of sterile procedure and unacceptable PICC line protocol. Oh, to be a fly on the wall.
I have a feeling that by the time Clare is out of there Super Nurse will have made her impact felt on the whole hospital. She told me she was considering calling JCAHO and explaining the situation to them. Conceivably, that would result in the American Hospital Association auditing the hospital for proper procedure protocols. While I understand her anger over this happening, calling JCAHO is like retaliating with the nuclear option. Are you sure you want to do that FIRST?
She's really not happy though. She said some of the nurses don't belong in an ICU. The ICU should be the nursing cream and she thinks some of the nurses would hardly be acceptable in a skilled unit, and marginally tolerable in a general medical unit. She's slow to say anything bad about anybody, so it says something about how she perceives things there. Some of the nurses have been outstanding, the quality has just been maddeningly uneven. Why yes, Super Nurse SHOULD be a nurse manager.
Earlier today Ms. Pikachu was demanding that we take her out and let her drive something. Super Mom has done this in the past- she'd go a business that was closed and let Ms. Pikachu drive around the parking lot. She's getting antsy, she wants to drive NOW.
Super Mom is still having wrist and shoulder pain. She was discussing that with someone she knows and the other woman suggested that cherry juice can be helpful in reducing inflammation. So, tired enough of the pain to try anything, she bought some. When I got home that evening Ms. Pikachu asked me if I’d bought it, “That’s nasty stuff Dad.” Okay, I’ve been warned.
When Super Mom got home later she recounted her conversation of how it was recommended, and said I should have some. Do I look inflamed to you? Whatever I need, cherry juice probably isn’t the answer. I drank some anyway, because it was my husbandly duty. Duty, Honor, Super Wife.
The stuff is as thick as syrup and it’s like drinking cherry pie filling- we’re talking Verry Cherry, quite tart, intense. It’s not the kind of stuff where you say, “Barkeep, I’ll have another, and make it a double.” No, this is sippin’ juice, or lickin’, because it IS that thick. But it would probably be good to cook with. Putting it in a chocolate cake might be wonderful.
Anyway, when we had lunch today I poured the kids a Sprite. I thought a little cherry juice might make it “punchy” so I got it out. Ms. Pikachu saw it and yelled, yes yelled, “Not in mine, that stuff is evil!” I put some in mine, tried it, and thought it quite tasty.
I asked her if she’d just like to have a sip to try it, “Uh uh, get that stuff away from me.” I offered it to Super Wife, she liked it. I said, “See, I like it, and your Mom likes it.” That got an adamant “You two are freaks.” “Well, then that would explain YOU.” My but we have fun.
Where was Train Boy in all this? Supplying background sound effects. He seemed to spend every available moment putting both wrists together, then blowing against them to make farting noises. Apparently he was sound editor on a reality show where flatulence was the punch line to everything. On the way home from church? Farting noises. Sitting at the table to eat? Farting noises. Oddly enough, the only time he didn’t make farting noises was when he was in the bathroom.
My Dad probably would have known what to do, but I didn’t. All the noise had my nerves on edge, I was stressed. Don’t explode, don’t say something to regret. So, what to do? In desperation I put on my best Wise Father Knows Best demeanor and said, “You know, if you keep doing that, some day you’re really going to fart like that, and nobody is going to believe you.” That got a laugh, and that was the last of the day’s farting effects. Being a parent often isn’t what you expected at all.
-
I had a nice moment today, Sunday. Super Wife showed me a questionaire that Ms. Pikachu had done at school. One of the things was "Most Admired Person." Yup, she wrote, "My dad." Apparently that's what I get for giving her chocolate when she craves it. Everybody has their price, you just need to know the currency.
This evening I told Super Wife that we should do something for Train Boy's birthday. With Ms. Pikachu it was always a big 'something.' I told her that maybe on his birthday we could take him and his friend Benjamin to Chuck E Cheese. She thought that wouldn't work- his birthday is on Wednesday, and Ms. Pikachu has Youth Group on Wednesday nights. I said that's ok, she doesn't want to go to Chuck E Cheese anymore anyway. Just taking the boys would be fine, and it would be a special day for Train Boy. So will you call Benjamin's mom and ask? "Not today, tomorrow." Why not? It's only nine o-clock on a Sunday evening, do you have reason to suspect they're normal? Well, at least I tried.
It wasn't much of a Sunday, almost ninety degrees and I mowed the lawn. Sweat City. The Super Wife is happy to have the lawn cut as short as the neighbor's, so it was worth it. Admittedly, a rancher asked about grazing rights, so maybe it did need a cutting. So she was happy about the lawn, but not for long.
She talked to her sister to find out how their Mom is doing and was told that now Clare has a bacterial blood infection. As if enough hasn't happened already. Super Nurse is just sure the infection was caused by sloppy procedure on the part of Clare's nurses. They routinely disconnect the PICC line to make their work easier. The problem is that every time they disconnect the line it's another risk of infection. Do it a lot, and infection almost becomes a certainty. Super Nurse says that where she works PICC lines are only disconnected if absolutely necessary, and then they're swabbed with disinfectant for at least thirty seconds. At the hospital the nurses just give it a quick wipe and slap it together. Super Nurse is REALLY NOT HAPPY. Tomorrow she's going to drive back and talk to the nurse manager about their lack of sterile procedure and unacceptable PICC line protocol. Oh, to be a fly on the wall.
I have a feeling that by the time Clare is out of there Super Nurse will have made her impact felt on the whole hospital. She told me she was considering calling JCAHO and explaining the situation to them. Conceivably, that would result in the American Hospital Association auditing the hospital for proper procedure protocols. While I understand her anger over this happening, calling JCAHO is like retaliating with the nuclear option. Are you sure you want to do that FIRST?
She's really not happy though. She said some of the nurses don't belong in an ICU. The ICU should be the nursing cream and she thinks some of the nurses would hardly be acceptable in a skilled unit, and marginally tolerable in a general medical unit. She's slow to say anything bad about anybody, so it says something about how she perceives things there. Some of the nurses have been outstanding, the quality has just been maddeningly uneven. Why yes, Super Nurse SHOULD be a nurse manager.
Earlier today Ms. Pikachu was demanding that we take her out and let her drive something. Super Mom has done this in the past- she'd go a business that was closed and let Ms. Pikachu drive around the parking lot. She's getting antsy, she wants to drive NOW.
Super Mom is still having wrist and shoulder pain. She was discussing that with someone she knows and the other woman suggested that cherry juice can be helpful in reducing inflammation. So, tired enough of the pain to try anything, she bought some. When I got home that evening Ms. Pikachu asked me if I’d bought it, “That’s nasty stuff Dad.” Okay, I’ve been warned.
When Super Mom got home later she recounted her conversation of how it was recommended, and said I should have some. Do I look inflamed to you? Whatever I need, cherry juice probably isn’t the answer. I drank some anyway, because it was my husbandly duty. Duty, Honor, Super Wife.
The stuff is as thick as syrup and it’s like drinking cherry pie filling- we’re talking Verry Cherry, quite tart, intense. It’s not the kind of stuff where you say, “Barkeep, I’ll have another, and make it a double.” No, this is sippin’ juice, or lickin’, because it IS that thick. But it would probably be good to cook with. Putting it in a chocolate cake might be wonderful.
Anyway, when we had lunch today I poured the kids a Sprite. I thought a little cherry juice might make it “punchy” so I got it out. Ms. Pikachu saw it and yelled, yes yelled, “Not in mine, that stuff is evil!” I put some in mine, tried it, and thought it quite tasty.
I asked her if she’d just like to have a sip to try it, “Uh uh, get that stuff away from me.” I offered it to Super Wife, she liked it. I said, “See, I like it, and your Mom likes it.” That got an adamant “You two are freaks.” “Well, then that would explain YOU.” My but we have fun.
Where was Train Boy in all this? Supplying background sound effects. He seemed to spend every available moment putting both wrists together, then blowing against them to make farting noises. Apparently he was sound editor on a reality show where flatulence was the punch line to everything. On the way home from church? Farting noises. Sitting at the table to eat? Farting noises. Oddly enough, the only time he didn’t make farting noises was when he was in the bathroom.
My Dad probably would have known what to do, but I didn’t. All the noise had my nerves on edge, I was stressed. Don’t explode, don’t say something to regret. So, what to do? In desperation I put on my best Wise Father Knows Best demeanor and said, “You know, if you keep doing that, some day you’re really going to fart like that, and nobody is going to believe you.” That got a laugh, and that was the last of the day’s farting effects. Being a parent often isn’t what you expected at all.
-
Friday, June 10, 2005
6/10
While she was there they moved Clare to some other area for some reason, I don't remember the specifics of that. However, when they were moving her Super Nurse saw that the transport person wasn't watching the IV lines. One of the lines went taut. She told him to stop. The transporter stopped and asked why. I think she kept pushing to get some slack in the lines. She told him that the lines were taut. He said "no they aren't, just look at them." Oy. Then some other tech chimed in with 'no, those lines are too long to have been pulled taut.' Super Nurse said, 'look, those two lines are fine, but that third line is shorter, and it WAS stretched as far as it could go.'
Her biggest concern wasn't that it was an IV line. It was the PICC line- an IV that's actually threaded well into an artery. It takes a doctor to do one. Having one pull out would be terribly bloody and would mean having to do the procedure again somewhere else.
After the hair atrocity, the near IV incident really stressed Patricia. She tries so hard to make sure everything goes right, putting up with the incompetents really wears on her. She does her job well, she expects others to also.
While she was there they moved Clare to some other area for some reason, I don't remember the specifics of that. However, when they were moving her Super Nurse saw that the transport person wasn't watching the IV lines. One of the lines went taut. She told him to stop. The transporter stopped and asked why. I think she kept pushing to get some slack in the lines. She told him that the lines were taut. He said "no they aren't, just look at them." Oy. Then some other tech chimed in with 'no, those lines are too long to have been pulled taut.' Super Nurse said, 'look, those two lines are fine, but that third line is shorter, and it WAS stretched as far as it could go.'
Her biggest concern wasn't that it was an IV line. It was the PICC line- an IV that's actually threaded well into an artery. It takes a doctor to do one. Having one pull out would be terribly bloody and would mean having to do the procedure again somewhere else.
After the hair atrocity, the near IV incident really stressed Patricia. She tries so hard to make sure everything goes right, putting up with the incompetents really wears on her. She does her job well, she expects others to also.
6/10
Super Nurse was in Davenport. I figured I was eating by myself, and rather than have another burger I stopped at Hy-Vee and picked up some Chinese that we normally don't get. And two sides of pea salad and broccoli salad. If I ate all that I'd be ready to hibernate.
I'd just finished my chinese when who walks in but Train Boy, followed by Ms. Pikachu. "Hey, you did smell Chinese. You've got a pretty good nose! Dad you have to feed us." Apparently they didn't want to spend another day blowing time in a hospital lounge and Super Mom let them stay home. Well alrighty then, feed you I shall. So it was back to Hy-Vee for more Chinese.
When Super Nurse finally got home she was not happy. Due to her Mom being in a bed for the past several weeks her hair had gotten quite entangled. The day before, Tawnia, Super Wife’s sister, had said she would show up early the next morning to straighten it out. When Tawnia got there bright and early yesterday there was hair everywhere- all over Clare, all over the bed, all over the floor. She now has a large bald spot on the back of her head.
Super Nurse told the doctor she was not happy. The doctor tried to defend the nurse that did it. Super Nurse said, there was hair all over, it could get in the chest cavity and cause more infection. The doctor said, but it's a closed dressing, that won't happen. She said ‘it opened last week, it could open again, this is not acceptable.’ The doctor tried to put the best face on it, but she thought that actually he was as mad about it as she was. The last thing he wants is to have to deal with another nasty infection. The fallout could be interesting.
I told her that I didn't think that was the work of a concerned nurse. Anybody cutting hair wouldn't make that kind of a mess, or do it that badly. My guess is that it was a nurse they'd complained about getting even. It wasn't a haircut, it was an act of violence.
Super Nurse was in Davenport. I figured I was eating by myself, and rather than have another burger I stopped at Hy-Vee and picked up some Chinese that we normally don't get. And two sides of pea salad and broccoli salad. If I ate all that I'd be ready to hibernate.
I'd just finished my chinese when who walks in but Train Boy, followed by Ms. Pikachu. "Hey, you did smell Chinese. You've got a pretty good nose! Dad you have to feed us." Apparently they didn't want to spend another day blowing time in a hospital lounge and Super Mom let them stay home. Well alrighty then, feed you I shall. So it was back to Hy-Vee for more Chinese.
When Super Nurse finally got home she was not happy. Due to her Mom being in a bed for the past several weeks her hair had gotten quite entangled. The day before, Tawnia, Super Wife’s sister, had said she would show up early the next morning to straighten it out. When Tawnia got there bright and early yesterday there was hair everywhere- all over Clare, all over the bed, all over the floor. She now has a large bald spot on the back of her head.
Super Nurse told the doctor she was not happy. The doctor tried to defend the nurse that did it. Super Nurse said, there was hair all over, it could get in the chest cavity and cause more infection. The doctor said, but it's a closed dressing, that won't happen. She said ‘it opened last week, it could open again, this is not acceptable.’ The doctor tried to put the best face on it, but she thought that actually he was as mad about it as she was. The last thing he wants is to have to deal with another nasty infection. The fallout could be interesting.
I told her that I didn't think that was the work of a concerned nurse. Anybody cutting hair wouldn't make that kind of a mess, or do it that badly. My guess is that it was a nurse they'd complained about getting even. It wasn't a haircut, it was an act of violence.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
6-7-2005 II
The wife informed me she saw her wrist surgeon today. She’s healing, but still having pain. The most pain is in her shoulder and back though.
The shoulder/back pain started in January after an ice storm. While I was at work the Super Wife got out a ladder and started swinging a hammer at the ice damns growing on the roof. She did that for hours. When I got home she told me her shoulder hurt, and I said, “I’ll bet it’s a rotator cuff injury.” But I’m not a doctor. We all know that, but that won’t make me shut up.
Anyway, a few weeks ago she went to see our family physician about it. She thought it was probably a neck injury. Huh, what? She ordered an MRI and… she has three prolapsed discs in her neck. So the doctor was right after all. Treatment has been an anti-inflammatory/pain medication, but it hasn’t helped. Motrin works better.
Anyway, today when she saw the hand surgeon she asked him about her shoulder again. He pulled her arm back and asked if that hurt. Why, yes it did. “Rotator cuff.” So tomorrow she goes to see a physical therapist. And I was right too. Not that I’m pleased with myself, it seemed like an obvious call to me anyway. But I WAS right too.
When she made her appointment they said she could do the initial consult form on the web. Cool. It works for me. I love the web. Oddly enough, in Internet Explorer it said it couldn’t download the form. I tried twice, same result both times. So I started up Opera just to see if there was a difference. Indeed there was, it downloaded the form without any problem at all. It was a pleasant surprise, and prevented much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
If you don’t have Opera, and would like to try it you can get it here:
http://portal.opera.com/
What can I say? It works.
The wife informed me she saw her wrist surgeon today. She’s healing, but still having pain. The most pain is in her shoulder and back though.
The shoulder/back pain started in January after an ice storm. While I was at work the Super Wife got out a ladder and started swinging a hammer at the ice damns growing on the roof. She did that for hours. When I got home she told me her shoulder hurt, and I said, “I’ll bet it’s a rotator cuff injury.” But I’m not a doctor. We all know that, but that won’t make me shut up.
Anyway, a few weeks ago she went to see our family physician about it. She thought it was probably a neck injury. Huh, what? She ordered an MRI and… she has three prolapsed discs in her neck. So the doctor was right after all. Treatment has been an anti-inflammatory/pain medication, but it hasn’t helped. Motrin works better.
Anyway, today when she saw the hand surgeon she asked him about her shoulder again. He pulled her arm back and asked if that hurt. Why, yes it did. “Rotator cuff.” So tomorrow she goes to see a physical therapist. And I was right too. Not that I’m pleased with myself, it seemed like an obvious call to me anyway. But I WAS right too.
When she made her appointment they said she could do the initial consult form on the web. Cool. It works for me. I love the web. Oddly enough, in Internet Explorer it said it couldn’t download the form. I tried twice, same result both times. So I started up Opera just to see if there was a difference. Indeed there was, it downloaded the form without any problem at all. It was a pleasant surprise, and prevented much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
If you don’t have Opera, and would like to try it you can get it here:
http://portal.opera.com/
What can I say? It works.
When I got home this evening Super Wife and the kids were gone to Davenport again. She's said before that she couldn't go back every day because it was just too exhausting. But I think the thrill of getting 40 mpg gets her excited to go. "I'm saving money on gas! Whoo Hoo!"
Last night she said she'd topped off the tank before she left, and after the round trip the gauge had hardly budged. She's quite pleased with her choice.
I'm a little surprised. She still complains that her wrists hurt. The Honda is a manual 5-speed- you'd think all the shifting would aggravate it, especially since she has to shift with the wrist that had surgery. But apparently she's coping quite well. Maybe Honda’s have therapeutic properties. Feng Shui anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
I guess if she's driving back and forth to Davenport it only makes sense for her to drive the Honda. If we give the Intrepid to my brother Ron that will mean I'm driving the van to work. I still like our van, but for passing on the interstate, etc, the Intrepid is a better driving machine. It’s not that the van is a bad thing. I've looked at other vans, but I haven't seen any other that is as nice as ours. Even the newer Caravans, same ES model, aren't as nice. Apparently we got the best year. I just wish the air in it worked, even a 15-minute drive home is uncomfortable in 90 degree heat and no air. I've noticed other, older Caravans being driven with the windows down too, no doubt about it, the air conditioners were junk. Supposedly they've gotten better since the merger with Daimler, but that doesn't do ME any good. I’m going to refrain from going on a rant about why does it take someone from a foreign company to decide an American company shouldn’t make junk? Maybe later. I dunno.
Ms. Pikachu doesn't want to get rid of the van anyway. She says it has her special place. I told her she can always claim the seat behind the driver as her special place, but she says it's the SEAT that's special. So can we keep the seat? You think you've heard it all. It's not an issue anyway, we'll keep the van until it has chronic problems too. I have a feeling it'll turn to rust first.
I'll miss the Intrepid's performance. Coming home this evening I had to merge into a line of traffic and hit the gas to get to a gap. Boom. Man that thing hauls when you ask it to. The Honda can't do that, but it can pass twice as many gas stations. I appreciate that, but I like to go fast too. Sometimes that’s handy.
This afternoon at work, my boss was gone and George came up to see if there was anybody waiting to be interviewed. Well no, I had matters well in hand, thank you very much. Did about 70 interviews today. No applause, no, thank you. But it WAS a good performance on my part. Anyway, it was about two minutes to closing, nobody was left up front to wait on, I was talking to Don, the guard. George said, somewhat in jest, "We're close enough Don, why don't you lock the door?" Don said, "Alright." Then he turned to me and said, "Now you heard him, he told me to lock the door early." I said, "I sure did Don, I'm behind you 100%. But if George ever says he didn't tell you that, I'm going to forget this conversation ever happened. Remember, in a world where it's survival of the fittest, chickens are still extremely plentiful." He laughed and gave me his 'where does that sh-t come from?' look. George clucked like a chicken. I was surprised he didn't say something like "Chicken? Thems good eatin.'" Anyway, it was a moment.
I do crap like that and I can't help but think, yeah, that's where Ms. Pikachu gets it.
Anyway, since nobody was home when I got here, I perused the note on the fridge about things needed. And, always trying to please, I went to Wally World to get them. On the way home I stopped at the Long John Silver’s drive-thru. I ordered, and then the voice in the magic talking box asked if I wanted pie with that. Well no, I didn’t, but I have a daughter with a thing for pie. There was no pie menu, so- “What kinds do you have?” The magic box spoke of many wondrous things, but “chocolate” caught my ear. Chocolate is Ms. Pikachu’s favorite. I kind of hated to order it, because that only encourages their selling behavior, on the other hand, it WOULD make her happy.
Okay, everybody is home. The mother-in-law was actually whispering today. The wife is pleased, again.
Ms. Pikachu walked in and said, “Here, you can have the rest of my Dr Pepper and Milk Duds- the ultimate in snackage” and handed them to me. Either I am greatly favored, or she was just pigged out.
A little later I called her into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Pancakes?” she queried. Where does that come from? She looked inside the fridge, saw the piece of chocolate pie I’d gotten her- “Pie!” she exclaimed. She walked back into the living room yelling in exultation, “I’m having pie for breakfast!” Yup, she’s special.
Last night she said she'd topped off the tank before she left, and after the round trip the gauge had hardly budged. She's quite pleased with her choice.
I'm a little surprised. She still complains that her wrists hurt. The Honda is a manual 5-speed- you'd think all the shifting would aggravate it, especially since she has to shift with the wrist that had surgery. But apparently she's coping quite well. Maybe Honda’s have therapeutic properties. Feng Shui anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
I guess if she's driving back and forth to Davenport it only makes sense for her to drive the Honda. If we give the Intrepid to my brother Ron that will mean I'm driving the van to work. I still like our van, but for passing on the interstate, etc, the Intrepid is a better driving machine. It’s not that the van is a bad thing. I've looked at other vans, but I haven't seen any other that is as nice as ours. Even the newer Caravans, same ES model, aren't as nice. Apparently we got the best year. I just wish the air in it worked, even a 15-minute drive home is uncomfortable in 90 degree heat and no air. I've noticed other, older Caravans being driven with the windows down too, no doubt about it, the air conditioners were junk. Supposedly they've gotten better since the merger with Daimler, but that doesn't do ME any good. I’m going to refrain from going on a rant about why does it take someone from a foreign company to decide an American company shouldn’t make junk? Maybe later. I dunno.
Ms. Pikachu doesn't want to get rid of the van anyway. She says it has her special place. I told her she can always claim the seat behind the driver as her special place, but she says it's the SEAT that's special. So can we keep the seat? You think you've heard it all. It's not an issue anyway, we'll keep the van until it has chronic problems too. I have a feeling it'll turn to rust first.
I'll miss the Intrepid's performance. Coming home this evening I had to merge into a line of traffic and hit the gas to get to a gap. Boom. Man that thing hauls when you ask it to. The Honda can't do that, but it can pass twice as many gas stations. I appreciate that, but I like to go fast too. Sometimes that’s handy.
This afternoon at work, my boss was gone and George came up to see if there was anybody waiting to be interviewed. Well no, I had matters well in hand, thank you very much. Did about 70 interviews today. No applause, no, thank you. But it WAS a good performance on my part. Anyway, it was about two minutes to closing, nobody was left up front to wait on, I was talking to Don, the guard. George said, somewhat in jest, "We're close enough Don, why don't you lock the door?" Don said, "Alright." Then he turned to me and said, "Now you heard him, he told me to lock the door early." I said, "I sure did Don, I'm behind you 100%. But if George ever says he didn't tell you that, I'm going to forget this conversation ever happened. Remember, in a world where it's survival of the fittest, chickens are still extremely plentiful." He laughed and gave me his 'where does that sh-t come from?' look. George clucked like a chicken. I was surprised he didn't say something like "Chicken? Thems good eatin.'" Anyway, it was a moment.
I do crap like that and I can't help but think, yeah, that's where Ms. Pikachu gets it.
Anyway, since nobody was home when I got here, I perused the note on the fridge about things needed. And, always trying to please, I went to Wally World to get them. On the way home I stopped at the Long John Silver’s drive-thru. I ordered, and then the voice in the magic talking box asked if I wanted pie with that. Well no, I didn’t, but I have a daughter with a thing for pie. There was no pie menu, so- “What kinds do you have?” The magic box spoke of many wondrous things, but “chocolate” caught my ear. Chocolate is Ms. Pikachu’s favorite. I kind of hated to order it, because that only encourages their selling behavior, on the other hand, it WOULD make her happy.
Okay, everybody is home. The mother-in-law was actually whispering today. The wife is pleased, again.
Ms. Pikachu walked in and said, “Here, you can have the rest of my Dr Pepper and Milk Duds- the ultimate in snackage” and handed them to me. Either I am greatly favored, or she was just pigged out.
A little later I called her into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Pancakes?” she queried. Where does that come from? She looked inside the fridge, saw the piece of chocolate pie I’d gotten her- “Pie!” she exclaimed. She walked back into the living room yelling in exultation, “I’m having pie for breakfast!” Yup, she’s special.
Friday, May 27, 2005
As scheduled, I left work early yesterday. I stopped by the house on the way to Trainboy’s school and I wasn’t here more than a couple of minutes and Super Nurse walked in.
The powwow with the doctors went better than expected. The Mother-In-Law, is still fighting a nasty infection so she’s still running a temperature. However, her elevated white cell count is going down and that would indicate her body is winning. Her kidneys are still working fine so the swelling is going down and it shouldn’t be much longer that they’ll be able to wire her chest together and close her up for good.
Also, she can be lucid enough to help the physical therapist, so the lights are still on. Super Nurse was happy.
Then we were off to Trainboy’s school. He seemed pleased to see both of us there. When we looked through his scrapbook I was surprised that the things mentioned most were Wal-Mart and the cruise. I had no idea the cruise was that big a deal for him, or that he’d remember it, but he had at least three mentions of it.
Super Mom mentioned to me that when she took Joshua to school that morning he’d commented on the bird droppings on the window and said the van needed to be washed. When we got home the kids didn’t want to go look for a TV and eat out, they wanted to stay home. For how long it might take that would probably be best, so okay, stay home. Super Wife fed the kids and we were gone.
The first stop was to get gas, and a car wash to offend the offensive bird doo. Then we stopped at Taco Johns. After she finished her chicken taco she helped me eat my taco salad. It was kind of romantic. That made me happy.
Then it was on to Best Buy. We liked a Samsung, exceptional picture, but it was too big. The next smaller size was on sale, but they didn’t even have one on display. Okay, fine, we’ll keep it in mind.
Then it was across the street to Ultimate Electronics. The chain is going out of business and it only took a minute to see why. Everything was supposed to have “prices slashed!” But it was still more expensive than Best Buy. And we are out of there.
Then it was on to K-Mart. Nothing. On to Target. Nothing. On to Wal-Mart to look at the Philips again. They also carry a nice Sanyo 32-inch, it’s gotten rave reviews, but it’s not even an issue- they’re still out of stock. Then I got diplomatic, or devious, depending on how you look at it.
Time for a little background- When our Sams membership expired earlier this year she said we shouldn’t renew it because it wasn’t worth it. I pointed out that it WAS worth it if we spent at least $500 there per year, and we easily did that. She still didn’t want to pay the $30. Alright, fine. I paid it when she wasn’t around and didn’t dare tell her. Am I going to admit that? I don’t think so. I told her they don’t check to see if the card is current when you go in, so we could still go in and check the prices. She agreed it was a good idea. So to Sams we went, because I gotta look, I have to be sure.
Up until then the leading TV was a wide-screen 16:9 30-inch Philips at Wal-Mart. Sams also had a Philips, but it was 32-inch and in 4:3. I prefer the 16:9, they just look cooler. However, I’d brought along a tape measure, so measure I did. The tube was an inch narrower than the 30-inch, but it was 4 inches taller. So the current broadcast TV would be noticeably bigger, and in letterbox it would be about the same as the 30-inch widescreen, for about $30 less. That appealed to Thrifty Wife, even though it was a silver case instead of black. It worked for me, I prefer silver. So I got a flat bed cart and quickly discovered it was going to be a bitch to move.
We got it checked out using my Sams card with no problems. I wasn’t going to tempt God by declaring it a miracle. Keep moving, keep moving, nothing to see here folks, keep it moving. I got a kid to help load it into the van and it fit nice and snug, just like I knew it would- because, I had the tape measure. You don’t have to be a Boy Scout to be prepared.
When we got home I went next door to get The Handyman to help unload it. At around 150 pounds there was no way Patricia could help with her bad wrists. When he saw the box he said “36-incher?” “No, 32.” He proudly said he’d bought a new TV also, and he bought a 36-incher. No doubt about it, guys are obsessed with size. But I was not embarrassed, because I know that it’s not the size that’s really important. At least that’s what the wife tells me. At any rate I consoled myself with the almost certain knowledge that he might have 36 inches, but it probably isn’t HDTV, because THAT would be an expensive set. Even so, I didn’t ask, because it might be better not to know. Not that I’m petty. I’m just a guy.
The Handyman helped carry it inside, and it just squeezed through the door. We thanked him and he returned to whatever we’d interrupted, and I didn’t ask about that either. Then we unboxed it and called Ms. Pikachul down to help move it. On our first attempt she declared in exasperation, “Dad, I’m brains, not brawn!” Not to mention always good for a laugh. We slid it over to the entertainment center. I hooked the wires to it because moving it around after we got it in the hole wasn’t going to happen. Then into the hole it went with an inch to spare on the sides, finished hooking it up, turned it on, and my what a picture it was.
Thrifty Wife didn’t want to spend the money, but considering our last set lasted 12 years, if this one lasts as long then on a yearly basis it’s not that bad. Especially for the improvement in the picture it’s not that bad.
Ms. Pikachu can hardly wait to plug a game console into it. Trainboy will certainly like seeing ‘Spongebob’ and ‘Ed, Edd and Eddie’ bigger than ever. Everybody is probably going to be happy with this one.
BTW, the link for our latest distraction is
http://www.samsclub.com/eclub/main_shopping.jsp?BV_UseBVCookie=yes&n=0&mt=a&coe=0&oidPath=0:-23542:-23589:-24298:-25204:917068
The powwow with the doctors went better than expected. The Mother-In-Law, is still fighting a nasty infection so she’s still running a temperature. However, her elevated white cell count is going down and that would indicate her body is winning. Her kidneys are still working fine so the swelling is going down and it shouldn’t be much longer that they’ll be able to wire her chest together and close her up for good.
Also, she can be lucid enough to help the physical therapist, so the lights are still on. Super Nurse was happy.
Then we were off to Trainboy’s school. He seemed pleased to see both of us there. When we looked through his scrapbook I was surprised that the things mentioned most were Wal-Mart and the cruise. I had no idea the cruise was that big a deal for him, or that he’d remember it, but he had at least three mentions of it.
Super Mom mentioned to me that when she took Joshua to school that morning he’d commented on the bird droppings on the window and said the van needed to be washed. When we got home the kids didn’t want to go look for a TV and eat out, they wanted to stay home. For how long it might take that would probably be best, so okay, stay home. Super Wife fed the kids and we were gone.
The first stop was to get gas, and a car wash to offend the offensive bird doo. Then we stopped at Taco Johns. After she finished her chicken taco she helped me eat my taco salad. It was kind of romantic. That made me happy.
Then it was on to Best Buy. We liked a Samsung, exceptional picture, but it was too big. The next smaller size was on sale, but they didn’t even have one on display. Okay, fine, we’ll keep it in mind.
Then it was across the street to Ultimate Electronics. The chain is going out of business and it only took a minute to see why. Everything was supposed to have “prices slashed!” But it was still more expensive than Best Buy. And we are out of there.
Then it was on to K-Mart. Nothing. On to Target. Nothing. On to Wal-Mart to look at the Philips again. They also carry a nice Sanyo 32-inch, it’s gotten rave reviews, but it’s not even an issue- they’re still out of stock. Then I got diplomatic, or devious, depending on how you look at it.
Time for a little background- When our Sams membership expired earlier this year she said we shouldn’t renew it because it wasn’t worth it. I pointed out that it WAS worth it if we spent at least $500 there per year, and we easily did that. She still didn’t want to pay the $30. Alright, fine. I paid it when she wasn’t around and didn’t dare tell her. Am I going to admit that? I don’t think so. I told her they don’t check to see if the card is current when you go in, so we could still go in and check the prices. She agreed it was a good idea. So to Sams we went, because I gotta look, I have to be sure.
Up until then the leading TV was a wide-screen 16:9 30-inch Philips at Wal-Mart. Sams also had a Philips, but it was 32-inch and in 4:3. I prefer the 16:9, they just look cooler. However, I’d brought along a tape measure, so measure I did. The tube was an inch narrower than the 30-inch, but it was 4 inches taller. So the current broadcast TV would be noticeably bigger, and in letterbox it would be about the same as the 30-inch widescreen, for about $30 less. That appealed to Thrifty Wife, even though it was a silver case instead of black. It worked for me, I prefer silver. So I got a flat bed cart and quickly discovered it was going to be a bitch to move.
We got it checked out using my Sams card with no problems. I wasn’t going to tempt God by declaring it a miracle. Keep moving, keep moving, nothing to see here folks, keep it moving. I got a kid to help load it into the van and it fit nice and snug, just like I knew it would- because, I had the tape measure. You don’t have to be a Boy Scout to be prepared.
When we got home I went next door to get The Handyman to help unload it. At around 150 pounds there was no way Patricia could help with her bad wrists. When he saw the box he said “36-incher?” “No, 32.” He proudly said he’d bought a new TV also, and he bought a 36-incher. No doubt about it, guys are obsessed with size. But I was not embarrassed, because I know that it’s not the size that’s really important. At least that’s what the wife tells me. At any rate I consoled myself with the almost certain knowledge that he might have 36 inches, but it probably isn’t HDTV, because THAT would be an expensive set. Even so, I didn’t ask, because it might be better not to know. Not that I’m petty. I’m just a guy.
The Handyman helped carry it inside, and it just squeezed through the door. We thanked him and he returned to whatever we’d interrupted, and I didn’t ask about that either. Then we unboxed it and called Ms. Pikachul down to help move it. On our first attempt she declared in exasperation, “Dad, I’m brains, not brawn!” Not to mention always good for a laugh. We slid it over to the entertainment center. I hooked the wires to it because moving it around after we got it in the hole wasn’t going to happen. Then into the hole it went with an inch to spare on the sides, finished hooking it up, turned it on, and my what a picture it was.
Thrifty Wife didn’t want to spend the money, but considering our last set lasted 12 years, if this one lasts as long then on a yearly basis it’s not that bad. Especially for the improvement in the picture it’s not that bad.
Ms. Pikachu can hardly wait to plug a game console into it. Trainboy will certainly like seeing ‘Spongebob’ and ‘Ed, Edd and Eddie’ bigger than ever. Everybody is probably going to be happy with this one.
BTW, the link for our latest distraction is
http://www.samsclub.com/eclub/main_shopping.jsp?BV_UseBVCookie=yes&n=0&mt=a&coe=0&oidPath=0:-23542:-23589:-24298:-25204:917068
Friday, April 22, 2005
This morning was another appointment with a neurosurgeon at University of Iowa. It turned out the guy I used to see took a job in Nebraska. I had a new guy. He started asking questions about my ailment’s history. I answered as best I could, but the history questions always bother me. I always feel like, I answered these questions the last time I was here when I was having problems, do you really expect me to remember them? Don’t you have the records right in front of you? If they aren’t any help shouldn’t your records be better? Not that I ever say it. So I just said, “Sorry, but I’m a lousy historian.” He replied, “I can see that.” Sometimes delivery is everything. That could have been a nasty backhand. Instead it was good for a smile. I liked the guy right there.
They set up a laptop computer next to the desktop terminal so they could compare the MRI films more easily. “Films” is really a misnomer now. Whoever does the original films just scans them to a CD. It makes sense. The original films can’t be lost, and the CD’s can be shipped at a fraction of the price. Incredibly, they were going to let me look at the films while they reviewed them. Oh boy, oh boy.
So he was paging through the films, and making comments on what he was seeing. He pointed out how on one you could plainly see how the optic nerve was being stretched. Then he asked if I was having any trouble seeing out of my right eye. I told him it’s still a problem that it points at my nose, but if I get it pointed at something it still sees okay. I can still read with it. He was surprised, considering how much tension the nerve is under.
When he got to one, apparently believing I’d learned enough to have some idea of what I was seeing; he asked me what I thought. I said it looked like a significant change. He agreed. It was a pretty easy call. Looking at the image was enough to make me sick. That was my brain, and it was obvious something was terribly wrong… again. And I could see it coming.
I hadn’t expected that much difference. When I’d gone to Mayo, and seen the guys at UIHC a year ago, they both said that yes, there’d been a little change, but surgery was to be avoided, radiation was the way to go.
Even as a layman, what I’d just seen on the films was a tumor fairly screaming, “I’m baack!”
The surgeon said he really didn’t understand why radiation was ever done. It was a patchwork procedure that didn’t address the real problem. Huh, what? But a year ago the surgeons were saying surgery bad… baaaad. Scar tissue makes another surgery baaaad. And this guy is saying- there’s really no alternative, you can see it on the films. It’s big; it has to be reduced again. Since it grew upwards instead of forwards the surgery won’t be in the same place. Scar tissue won’t be an issue. Finally, a guy who will tell it to me straight.
I asked him what would happen if I put off the surgery till later. He said, “You’ll start to have trouble with stumbling due to your left foot. Eventually your left foot will start to drag. You won’t be able to look down with your right eye. And you’ll start to have vision problems with it, possibly blindness.”
So I asked him if the surgery would alleviate the numbness on the right side of the face. He said no, the radiation was to kill the nerve, there’s no bringing it back. Then I asked, "Will the surgery regain the movement in my right eye?" He said almost certainly not. The nerve has been stretched and compressed for so long it will probably never recover.
Apparently the radiation stopped the pain, but at the price of half my face going numb, the one opportunity to correct my eye was lost, and apparently I’m about to join the unstoppable droolers and nasal drip club. And it only postponed another surgery by about a year. If I’d seen the films a year ago I don’t think I would have done the radiation. I would have said, “What about that stretched optic nerve? How long are you going to put off dealing with that?” Crap. Where was this guy when I needed him? But better late than never.
I can’t end a post in this much misery and desperation. How about … we revisit the family?
This morning the SuperNurse was back at work. That left Ms. Pikachu to wake me up. She’s as ruthless about it as her mother. Is that nature or nurture? It’s hard to tell, and they aren’t telling. It could be either the Mother/Daughter thing, or part of the larger Feminine Conspiracy, but again they aren’t telling. I’ll bet they even have a secret handshake.
Anyway. After Ms. Pikachu had her bowl of whatever I drove her and her friends to school. About as soon as I got in the parking lot they said it was good, they were fine, they could walk the rest of the way. I stopped, and I started to do my best parental whine, “Are you sure? It’s so far, I could drive you the rest of the way.” It was all of maybe a hundred feet. They smiled and said, no, no, it was okay and they got out.
When I got home I woke up the Trainboy. He got dressed, and when he got downstairs I told him he had a choice of oatmeal or eggs for breakfast. He chose eggs, scrambled eggs. Well alrighty then.
Along time ago when the earth was green, lived more kinds of animals than you’ve ever seen…. Forget that, it wasn’t that long ago, and St Patrick’s Day is already by. Anyway, I remembered that I used to like scrambled eggs from a recipe in one of Mother’s cookbooks. It called for Cream of Chicken soup instead of milk and… that’s all I remember of it. But that’s enough. That’s the important part.
So I went to the pantry and looked for a can of Cream of Anything and found a can of Cream of Herbed Chicken. Works for me, or at least it’s going to work for him. I broke two eggs into a bowl, spooned a dollop of the stuff into it and beat it all with a fork. Then it was nuke, stir, nuke, stir, nuke, and stir. And may I just say right here- scrambled eggs are one of the things microwaves do best. There is no point in risking scorching if you have a microwave handy.
Then I brought them in to Trainboy. I was a bit apprehensive because he’s such a picky eater. It’s one thing he gets from me. He was a bit apprehensive himself, but took a bite. “Do you like them?” “What did you put in them? Pepper?” “Nope, chicken soup.” He liked them. He ate it all. Then I drove him to school. I asked him if he’d like me to pick him up with the tandem bike trailer. He said yes. Well alrighty then.
Then I was off to get my MRI cd’s and had the above-mentioned episode.
Shortly after I got home I headed off for the walk to Ms’ Pikachu’s school, and there she was- already only a block away from home. She was walking with the friend she usually does.
That meant there was plenty of time to hook up the tandem trailer to the bike. So I hooked it up and away I went. When I got there I waited by the door Trainboy comes out of. While waiting, several kids gathered around, looked at the tandem, and I heard, “Cool” several times.
One little girl asked if she could have a ride. That was tempting, but I wondered if the teachers would approve, or the child’s parents would approve. So I said, sorry, but I’m waiting for my son.
When the bike leaned over I knew he was climbing on. He always gets on by putting the left pedal down to step on it. You’d think he was getting on a horse. I could tell he was pleased. And away we went.
We went to the gas station to air up the tires since I couldn’t find our own pump. We got them aired up, and we back-tracked by his school, which was the long way home. He was happy on his trailer, and if it made him happy to be seen by the other students I could indulge him that much.
When we got home the SuperNurse was still SuperNursing and she was going to work till 9. So we had to decide what to do for supper. I asked Trainboy and got, “How about those scrambled eggs you made?” He likes them, he really likes them. But I’ve got two kids to feed, and we need to agree on something.
Ms. Pikachu wanted pizza again. No, we did that yesterday, try again. “How about Steak and Shake?” Trainboy agreed to that. And we have a winner.
Two of Ms. Pikachu’s friends were over so I said they could come along if their parents Okayed it. Their parents did, and were probably grateful for a little peace and quiet, because I certainly wasn’t getting any. On the way I said that while we certainly could eat at ‘Steak and Shake,’ if they wanted to we could eat at Bishops instead. I heard one of the kids ask “What do those places serve, what’s the difference?” My kids explained it to her.
At times like that I wonder if my kids have any idea how good they’ve got it. Not that I need their gratitude, but they should realize not every kid has parents with disposable income like we have. And not all parents like to spend it if they have it. But we do, and I do.
I had an oldies station on and it’s just amazing how good my 13 year-old Ms. Pikachu is at calling out the songs. A few notes and “Hey Dad, that’s Jive Talkin’ turn it up!” “Hey, that’s Three Dog Night, turn it up!” “That’s Simon and Garfunkle!” What are they playing? “Mrs. Robinson.” That’s nice; tell me if they play ‘The Boxer.’
The kids had a good time at Steak and Shake. On the way home I still had the oldies station on and they played Sonny and Cher’s ‘I Got You Babe.’ All three girls were sitting in the back seat, and all three sang along on the chorus. It was cute, it was fun, it was a moment to remember. Cyndi Lauper was right; Girls Just Want To Have Fun.
We weren’t home for very long when Trainboy said, “How about some more of those scrambled eggs?” Yeah, he likes them. How many do you want? “One less egg.” I still made them with two eggs, gave him half, and took the other half upstairs to Ms. Pikachu. “Here, try these scrambled eggs. Tell me if you like them.” “Scrambled eggs are nasty, I won’t eat those.” “I made them with chicken soup. I’m just asking you to try them.” Curious, she tentatively took a bite. “These are good.” She took the bowl from me. “You should teach Mom how to make these.” When the Super Mom got home I did just that. We may have to start buying more eggs.
So it was a day with sucky brain tumor moments, but it also had moments with the family that were just as memorable. They keep me a happy Dad.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
They set up a laptop computer next to the desktop terminal so they could compare the MRI films more easily. “Films” is really a misnomer now. Whoever does the original films just scans them to a CD. It makes sense. The original films can’t be lost, and the CD’s can be shipped at a fraction of the price. Incredibly, they were going to let me look at the films while they reviewed them. Oh boy, oh boy.
So he was paging through the films, and making comments on what he was seeing. He pointed out how on one you could plainly see how the optic nerve was being stretched. Then he asked if I was having any trouble seeing out of my right eye. I told him it’s still a problem that it points at my nose, but if I get it pointed at something it still sees okay. I can still read with it. He was surprised, considering how much tension the nerve is under.
When he got to one, apparently believing I’d learned enough to have some idea of what I was seeing; he asked me what I thought. I said it looked like a significant change. He agreed. It was a pretty easy call. Looking at the image was enough to make me sick. That was my brain, and it was obvious something was terribly wrong… again. And I could see it coming.
I hadn’t expected that much difference. When I’d gone to Mayo, and seen the guys at UIHC a year ago, they both said that yes, there’d been a little change, but surgery was to be avoided, radiation was the way to go.
Even as a layman, what I’d just seen on the films was a tumor fairly screaming, “I’m baack!”
The surgeon said he really didn’t understand why radiation was ever done. It was a patchwork procedure that didn’t address the real problem. Huh, what? But a year ago the surgeons were saying surgery bad… baaaad. Scar tissue makes another surgery baaaad. And this guy is saying- there’s really no alternative, you can see it on the films. It’s big; it has to be reduced again. Since it grew upwards instead of forwards the surgery won’t be in the same place. Scar tissue won’t be an issue. Finally, a guy who will tell it to me straight.
I asked him what would happen if I put off the surgery till later. He said, “You’ll start to have trouble with stumbling due to your left foot. Eventually your left foot will start to drag. You won’t be able to look down with your right eye. And you’ll start to have vision problems with it, possibly blindness.”
So I asked him if the surgery would alleviate the numbness on the right side of the face. He said no, the radiation was to kill the nerve, there’s no bringing it back. Then I asked, "Will the surgery regain the movement in my right eye?" He said almost certainly not. The nerve has been stretched and compressed for so long it will probably never recover.
Apparently the radiation stopped the pain, but at the price of half my face going numb, the one opportunity to correct my eye was lost, and apparently I’m about to join the unstoppable droolers and nasal drip club. And it only postponed another surgery by about a year. If I’d seen the films a year ago I don’t think I would have done the radiation. I would have said, “What about that stretched optic nerve? How long are you going to put off dealing with that?” Crap. Where was this guy when I needed him? But better late than never.
I can’t end a post in this much misery and desperation. How about … we revisit the family?
This morning the SuperNurse was back at work. That left Ms. Pikachu to wake me up. She’s as ruthless about it as her mother. Is that nature or nurture? It’s hard to tell, and they aren’t telling. It could be either the Mother/Daughter thing, or part of the larger Feminine Conspiracy, but again they aren’t telling. I’ll bet they even have a secret handshake.
Anyway. After Ms. Pikachu had her bowl of whatever I drove her and her friends to school. About as soon as I got in the parking lot they said it was good, they were fine, they could walk the rest of the way. I stopped, and I started to do my best parental whine, “Are you sure? It’s so far, I could drive you the rest of the way.” It was all of maybe a hundred feet. They smiled and said, no, no, it was okay and they got out.
When I got home I woke up the Trainboy. He got dressed, and when he got downstairs I told him he had a choice of oatmeal or eggs for breakfast. He chose eggs, scrambled eggs. Well alrighty then.
Along time ago when the earth was green, lived more kinds of animals than you’ve ever seen…. Forget that, it wasn’t that long ago, and St Patrick’s Day is already by. Anyway, I remembered that I used to like scrambled eggs from a recipe in one of Mother’s cookbooks. It called for Cream of Chicken soup instead of milk and… that’s all I remember of it. But that’s enough. That’s the important part.
So I went to the pantry and looked for a can of Cream of Anything and found a can of Cream of Herbed Chicken. Works for me, or at least it’s going to work for him. I broke two eggs into a bowl, spooned a dollop of the stuff into it and beat it all with a fork. Then it was nuke, stir, nuke, stir, nuke, and stir. And may I just say right here- scrambled eggs are one of the things microwaves do best. There is no point in risking scorching if you have a microwave handy.
Then I brought them in to Trainboy. I was a bit apprehensive because he’s such a picky eater. It’s one thing he gets from me. He was a bit apprehensive himself, but took a bite. “Do you like them?” “What did you put in them? Pepper?” “Nope, chicken soup.” He liked them. He ate it all. Then I drove him to school. I asked him if he’d like me to pick him up with the tandem bike trailer. He said yes. Well alrighty then.
Then I was off to get my MRI cd’s and had the above-mentioned episode.
Shortly after I got home I headed off for the walk to Ms’ Pikachu’s school, and there she was- already only a block away from home. She was walking with the friend she usually does.
That meant there was plenty of time to hook up the tandem trailer to the bike. So I hooked it up and away I went. When I got there I waited by the door Trainboy comes out of. While waiting, several kids gathered around, looked at the tandem, and I heard, “Cool” several times.
One little girl asked if she could have a ride. That was tempting, but I wondered if the teachers would approve, or the child’s parents would approve. So I said, sorry, but I’m waiting for my son.
When the bike leaned over I knew he was climbing on. He always gets on by putting the left pedal down to step on it. You’d think he was getting on a horse. I could tell he was pleased. And away we went.
We went to the gas station to air up the tires since I couldn’t find our own pump. We got them aired up, and we back-tracked by his school, which was the long way home. He was happy on his trailer, and if it made him happy to be seen by the other students I could indulge him that much.
When we got home the SuperNurse was still SuperNursing and she was going to work till 9. So we had to decide what to do for supper. I asked Trainboy and got, “How about those scrambled eggs you made?” He likes them, he really likes them. But I’ve got two kids to feed, and we need to agree on something.
Ms. Pikachu wanted pizza again. No, we did that yesterday, try again. “How about Steak and Shake?” Trainboy agreed to that. And we have a winner.
Two of Ms. Pikachu’s friends were over so I said they could come along if their parents Okayed it. Their parents did, and were probably grateful for a little peace and quiet, because I certainly wasn’t getting any. On the way I said that while we certainly could eat at ‘Steak and Shake,’ if they wanted to we could eat at Bishops instead. I heard one of the kids ask “What do those places serve, what’s the difference?” My kids explained it to her.
At times like that I wonder if my kids have any idea how good they’ve got it. Not that I need their gratitude, but they should realize not every kid has parents with disposable income like we have. And not all parents like to spend it if they have it. But we do, and I do.
I had an oldies station on and it’s just amazing how good my 13 year-old Ms. Pikachu is at calling out the songs. A few notes and “Hey Dad, that’s Jive Talkin’ turn it up!” “Hey, that’s Three Dog Night, turn it up!” “That’s Simon and Garfunkle!” What are they playing? “Mrs. Robinson.” That’s nice; tell me if they play ‘The Boxer.’
The kids had a good time at Steak and Shake. On the way home I still had the oldies station on and they played Sonny and Cher’s ‘I Got You Babe.’ All three girls were sitting in the back seat, and all three sang along on the chorus. It was cute, it was fun, it was a moment to remember. Cyndi Lauper was right; Girls Just Want To Have Fun.
We weren’t home for very long when Trainboy said, “How about some more of those scrambled eggs?” Yeah, he likes them. How many do you want? “One less egg.” I still made them with two eggs, gave him half, and took the other half upstairs to Ms. Pikachu. “Here, try these scrambled eggs. Tell me if you like them.” “Scrambled eggs are nasty, I won’t eat those.” “I made them with chicken soup. I’m just asking you to try them.” Curious, she tentatively took a bite. “These are good.” She took the bowl from me. “You should teach Mom how to make these.” When the Super Mom got home I did just that. We may have to start buying more eggs.
So it was a day with sucky brain tumor moments, but it also had moments with the family that were just as memorable. They keep me a happy Dad.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
Friday, October 29, 2004
If Kerry loses- I predict, yes, I predict that Kerry will get serious in the Senate and work to pass legislation legalizing gay marriage. He'll then divorce Thereza, marry George Soros, and run again in 2008. He will lose again, and Soros will file for bankruptcy protection in 2009.
If Kerry wins people will say Dubya was just like his Dad, a one-termer, “Like father, like son ” and they’ll shake their heads. They’ll soon wish he was back in office. Everyone will quickly tire of Kerry due to his agonizingly slow decision-making requiring summit after summit and his inability to stick with any decision he makes. Everything he touches will turn to quagmire and it will be seared, seared into the country’s memory. He too will be a one-termer.
I admit I'm not a God-certified prophet, so don't stone me if none of it happens. But you read it here first.
I am not enamored of Bush, I don’t worship at the shrine of Reagan. I’m a registered independent, I vote both ways, and I have to put up with calls and mail from both parties. I try to keep an open mind, but this election is a no-brainer. I don’t like Kerry.
I don’t like Kerry because he did an abbreviated tour of duty in Viet Nam and talks about it as though he was a hero. I don’t like Kerry because when he got home he slandered all the men still in Viet Nam and gave aid and comfort to their enemy. I don’t like Kerry because men who serve together in combat say they become closer than brothers and over two hundred men who served with him say he’s unfit to be President. That’s pretty damning to me.
I don’t like Kerry because in the Dick Cavett interviews he came across as an arrogant brat, and I don’t like arrogant brats.
I don’t like Kerry because he seems to be a gold-digger. Maybe he’s not. But the first woman he married was rich. He divorced her because he fell in love with a woman with even more money. Marrying another woman who is richer is like marrying another woman who is considerably younger- maybe it’s true love, or maybe it’s just a guy being vain and self-serving. If wouldn’t seem so bad if he’d married the Heinz heiress first, and then divorced her for someone with less money. But beggars can’t be choosers.
I don’t like Kerry because I think he’s incapable of chief executive decision-making. If he’d been in office on 9/11 is there anyone who can imagine him doing anything but sitting on his hands waiting for UN action? Then he’d have summit after summit where nothing is established but America’s guilt, the need to apologize for hurting muslims’ feelings, and Israel would be sold down the Tigris-Euphrates. Screw that.
I’m happy that after Osama’s declaration of war on 9/11 we kicked the crap out of his organization in Afghanistan. The Afghani’s have had an election and Osama’s splattered remains are rotting in a cave.
Then we overthrew a dictator in Iraq that liked to subsidize terrorists.
Considering the gassing of Kurd villages is well documented the cry of "No WMD!" can only be made by those with eyes closed and fingers in their ears. Considering he had imperial ambitions that couldn't be tolerated- he'd already had a war with Iran, and invaded Kuwait, he was destabilizing a strategic area. Considering Saddam's payments to families of muslim suicide bombers in Israel, and muslim suicides flying airplanes into the WTC, his hands were bloody, the only question is how much blood. Mass graves with children, human shredders, he was an animal. Saddam was a dangerous, murdering dictator who had overstayed his time on the world stage. He had to go. Fortunately Dubya was the man for the job. Kerry would still be wringing his hands and assembling another summit.
Whatever you want to say about Bush, he’s liberated two countries that can now enjoy the democratic process. Kerry offers plans with no details, and has virtually nothing to show for his time in the Senate, but he does know how to marry rich. Flying between mansions in the Heinz Gulfstream may have it’s stresses but it’s hard for the little people to appreciate them. It’s humiliating for them to mingle with the little people- they can’t order at Wendy’s. And he still doesn’t have a clue what life is like for the bottom 98% of the countries population, or what it needs. When he was in Des Moines recently he guaranteed that if elected he’d hold a summit in Ames, maybe to come up with a five-year plan. He’s good at plans. He’s got a briefcase full of them that he doesn’t show to anybody. They help keep the crease in his magic hat. I would bet that every plan is just a sheet of paper that says, “Hold a summit.”
So I look at Kerry and everything seems to be minimal effort and maximum medals- a life of leisure and great self-importance. He doesn’t have a vision for the country, has no idea what he’ll do, he just wants to be President to satisfy his ego. But he can organize a summit. Unfortunately, that may qualify him as a maitre ‘d, but it doesn’t qualify him to be President.
And another thing- I am sick and tired of Bush being called a nazi. Until he commits genocide, tries to establish a master race, or invades Canada or Mexico to get a little lebensraum it cheapens the horror of what Hitler did. You might just as well call Kerry Chairman or Stalin for all the plans he has. If they are all five-year plans it would mean only his re-election would make them work.
All the campaign violence has been against Republican campaign offices. That would make the Democrats the brownshirts. To properly play the nazi role, while breaking windows and looting offices they could scrawl “Juden” with the rest of their graffiti. It would go well with the anybody-but-Bush claims that Bush is an idiot and a chimp.
Not only am I sick and tired of Kerry, I’m sick and tired of the Democrat party too. Last election I protest-voted against both parties, I won’t this time.
If the vote wasn’t so close I’d vote Libertarian or Nader.
If Kerry wins people will say Dubya was just like his Dad, a one-termer, “Like father, like son ” and they’ll shake their heads. They’ll soon wish he was back in office. Everyone will quickly tire of Kerry due to his agonizingly slow decision-making requiring summit after summit and his inability to stick with any decision he makes. Everything he touches will turn to quagmire and it will be seared, seared into the country’s memory. He too will be a one-termer.
I admit I'm not a God-certified prophet, so don't stone me if none of it happens. But you read it here first.
I am not enamored of Bush, I don’t worship at the shrine of Reagan. I’m a registered independent, I vote both ways, and I have to put up with calls and mail from both parties. I try to keep an open mind, but this election is a no-brainer. I don’t like Kerry.
I don’t like Kerry because he did an abbreviated tour of duty in Viet Nam and talks about it as though he was a hero. I don’t like Kerry because when he got home he slandered all the men still in Viet Nam and gave aid and comfort to their enemy. I don’t like Kerry because men who serve together in combat say they become closer than brothers and over two hundred men who served with him say he’s unfit to be President. That’s pretty damning to me.
I don’t like Kerry because in the Dick Cavett interviews he came across as an arrogant brat, and I don’t like arrogant brats.
I don’t like Kerry because he seems to be a gold-digger. Maybe he’s not. But the first woman he married was rich. He divorced her because he fell in love with a woman with even more money. Marrying another woman who is richer is like marrying another woman who is considerably younger- maybe it’s true love, or maybe it’s just a guy being vain and self-serving. If wouldn’t seem so bad if he’d married the Heinz heiress first, and then divorced her for someone with less money. But beggars can’t be choosers.
I don’t like Kerry because I think he’s incapable of chief executive decision-making. If he’d been in office on 9/11 is there anyone who can imagine him doing anything but sitting on his hands waiting for UN action? Then he’d have summit after summit where nothing is established but America’s guilt, the need to apologize for hurting muslims’ feelings, and Israel would be sold down the Tigris-Euphrates. Screw that.
I’m happy that after Osama’s declaration of war on 9/11 we kicked the crap out of his organization in Afghanistan. The Afghani’s have had an election and Osama’s splattered remains are rotting in a cave.
Then we overthrew a dictator in Iraq that liked to subsidize terrorists.
Considering the gassing of Kurd villages is well documented the cry of "No WMD!" can only be made by those with eyes closed and fingers in their ears. Considering he had imperial ambitions that couldn't be tolerated- he'd already had a war with Iran, and invaded Kuwait, he was destabilizing a strategic area. Considering Saddam's payments to families of muslim suicide bombers in Israel, and muslim suicides flying airplanes into the WTC, his hands were bloody, the only question is how much blood. Mass graves with children, human shredders, he was an animal. Saddam was a dangerous, murdering dictator who had overstayed his time on the world stage. He had to go. Fortunately Dubya was the man for the job. Kerry would still be wringing his hands and assembling another summit.
Whatever you want to say about Bush, he’s liberated two countries that can now enjoy the democratic process. Kerry offers plans with no details, and has virtually nothing to show for his time in the Senate, but he does know how to marry rich. Flying between mansions in the Heinz Gulfstream may have it’s stresses but it’s hard for the little people to appreciate them. It’s humiliating for them to mingle with the little people- they can’t order at Wendy’s. And he still doesn’t have a clue what life is like for the bottom 98% of the countries population, or what it needs. When he was in Des Moines recently he guaranteed that if elected he’d hold a summit in Ames, maybe to come up with a five-year plan. He’s good at plans. He’s got a briefcase full of them that he doesn’t show to anybody. They help keep the crease in his magic hat. I would bet that every plan is just a sheet of paper that says, “Hold a summit.”
So I look at Kerry and everything seems to be minimal effort and maximum medals- a life of leisure and great self-importance. He doesn’t have a vision for the country, has no idea what he’ll do, he just wants to be President to satisfy his ego. But he can organize a summit. Unfortunately, that may qualify him as a maitre ‘d, but it doesn’t qualify him to be President.
And another thing- I am sick and tired of Bush being called a nazi. Until he commits genocide, tries to establish a master race, or invades Canada or Mexico to get a little lebensraum it cheapens the horror of what Hitler did. You might just as well call Kerry Chairman or Stalin for all the plans he has. If they are all five-year plans it would mean only his re-election would make them work.
All the campaign violence has been against Republican campaign offices. That would make the Democrats the brownshirts. To properly play the nazi role, while breaking windows and looting offices they could scrawl “Juden” with the rest of their graffiti. It would go well with the anybody-but-Bush claims that Bush is an idiot and a chimp.
Not only am I sick and tired of Kerry, I’m sick and tired of the Democrat party too. Last election I protest-voted against both parties, I won’t this time.
If the vote wasn’t so close I’d vote Libertarian or Nader.
Friday, July 09, 2004
7/8
This evening we went to a game of the local minor league baseball team. The only reason we went is because the Super Nurse’s employer gave the employees free tickets. The Thrifty Wife never turns down free, you can count on that.
I like to play baseball, but as a spectator sport it bores me almost unto death. While we were watching Ms. Pikachu said, “Dad, you were right. Baseball really is the game of the gods.”
By the time the eigth inning started everybody had had enough. Train Boy had played on all the kids’ activities, Thrifty Wife felt she’d gotten her dollar’s worth, Super Wife knew she needed to get the kids to bed anyway,
There was a veteran’s memorial on the way to the car. The kids climbed on the tank and Ms. Pikachu started to go nuts, she had conversations with herself. “Are we there yet?” ”If you don’t behave I’m going to turn this tank around!” There's never a dull moment with Ms. Pikachu.
Then it was home. I’ve tried to catch up on the last few weeks blog entries tonight. It’s time to get some sleep
This evening we went to a game of the local minor league baseball team. The only reason we went is because the Super Nurse’s employer gave the employees free tickets. The Thrifty Wife never turns down free, you can count on that.
I like to play baseball, but as a spectator sport it bores me almost unto death. While we were watching Ms. Pikachu said, “Dad, you were right. Baseball really is the game of the gods.”
By the time the eigth inning started everybody had had enough. Train Boy had played on all the kids’ activities, Thrifty Wife felt she’d gotten her dollar’s worth, Super Wife knew she needed to get the kids to bed anyway,
There was a veteran’s memorial on the way to the car. The kids climbed on the tank and Ms. Pikachu started to go nuts, she had conversations with herself. “Are we there yet?” ”If you don’t behave I’m going to turn this tank around!” There's never a dull moment with Ms. Pikachu.
Then it was home. I’ve tried to catch up on the last few weeks blog entries tonight. It’s time to get some sleep
Friday, July 02, 2004
7/2
We drove back to Clinton to celebrate the Super Wife’s birthday, and to see the Doobie Brothers. She felt like talking so she, her Mom and sister, just went on and on. Fine, I understand that, but the concert does have a time set. They kept talking, I kept telling myself to just relax. She figured since there was an opening act there was no rush. Of course that is making the assumption the opening act isn’t anybody we’d want to see. I don’t know who the opener is. Maybe I’d like to see them. More stress. Relax. Relax.
They talked and talked, but that's okay, I understand. Women talk, they need to, and men interfere at their own peril. Relax. We finally got there when the opening act was finishing. They were doing a cover of a Jimi Hendrix tune. Not my cup of tea, so we’re good…until we get to the gate. We had assumed we'd get one-day passes or the like but got a rude shock. At the gate they said only four-day passes are sold, they are $25 apiece, and there are no discounts for the kids. It would have cost $100 to see them. We walked away.
Super Wife convinced me to go by myself and she and the kids would go on rides. The Doobies don’t do Christian contemporary so she really wasn’t interested anyway. Eventually I agreed. I really wanted to see them. It would be so cool just to hear them play 'Blackwater' within a stone's throw of the Mississippi and a steamboat nearby. But by that time seating was impossible. I stood on the road on top of the dike. The sound was good, but they were so far away I didn't need ear plugs. I couldn't even recognize who was who unless I looked through my camera's telephoto.
Nearby was a couple with a little boy. Not to be mean, but I just couldn't believe they would shell out the money for this. I assumed they were using somebody else’s passes. People are constantly warned not to do that, but be real. The card costs $25, it has space for four punches. If you bought the cards and didn’t want to see the Doobie Brothers wouldn’t you lend the cards to someone who did?
Daddy was engrossed with the concert. Mommy talked with family and friends. Their little boy was about four or five and reminded me a lot of Train Boy. I kept an eye on him as he played behind them in the street. His Mommy may have worried I was a stalker or something. But when a small truck came by I made sure he was safe, I told her I had a son myself and was just feeling very protective. She smiled and seemed appreciative.
I think you can tell if a woman is caring for children by the size of her purse. In addition to their own necessities they carry amusements for the kids. She had balloons, bubbles and only God knows what else.
A vendor walked through selling light ropes and a lot of kids in the area got them, but not the boy I was watching. He watched the others with that sad look of doing without and it just ate me up. I went after the vendor and bought a couple of light ropes. But then what? They might not take too kindly to a stranger buying their child something, so I decided to wait.
Eventually his Mom ran out of things for him to do. The boy tried to pick up a piece of broken balloon to play with, the Mom tried to take it from him. I stepped forward and I asked the Mom if she would take one of the light ropes to give to him. She smiled and took one.
He had the best time playiing with it like the other kids. He whipped it around. Then he threw it in the air and looked for where it dropped. Then the ends were put together to make a hoop and he bounced it on the ground. It would roll and he would chase it. The boy was happy for the rest of the concert and so was I. I don't know what was going on, but as she talked to other people I saw the Mom smilingly point me out to a couple of people. When the concert was over we smiled and waved at each other and that was that.
The Doobs played a good set, but I probably watched the boy more. I have no idea what his name was but for just a little bit I helped him to be happy. That made it the most memorable Doobie Brother concert ever.
We drove back to Clinton to celebrate the Super Wife’s birthday, and to see the Doobie Brothers. She felt like talking so she, her Mom and sister, just went on and on. Fine, I understand that, but the concert does have a time set. They kept talking, I kept telling myself to just relax. She figured since there was an opening act there was no rush. Of course that is making the assumption the opening act isn’t anybody we’d want to see. I don’t know who the opener is. Maybe I’d like to see them. More stress. Relax. Relax.
They talked and talked, but that's okay, I understand. Women talk, they need to, and men interfere at their own peril. Relax. We finally got there when the opening act was finishing. They were doing a cover of a Jimi Hendrix tune. Not my cup of tea, so we’re good…until we get to the gate. We had assumed we'd get one-day passes or the like but got a rude shock. At the gate they said only four-day passes are sold, they are $25 apiece, and there are no discounts for the kids. It would have cost $100 to see them. We walked away.
Super Wife convinced me to go by myself and she and the kids would go on rides. The Doobies don’t do Christian contemporary so she really wasn’t interested anyway. Eventually I agreed. I really wanted to see them. It would be so cool just to hear them play 'Blackwater' within a stone's throw of the Mississippi and a steamboat nearby. But by that time seating was impossible. I stood on the road on top of the dike. The sound was good, but they were so far away I didn't need ear plugs. I couldn't even recognize who was who unless I looked through my camera's telephoto.
Nearby was a couple with a little boy. Not to be mean, but I just couldn't believe they would shell out the money for this. I assumed they were using somebody else’s passes. People are constantly warned not to do that, but be real. The card costs $25, it has space for four punches. If you bought the cards and didn’t want to see the Doobie Brothers wouldn’t you lend the cards to someone who did?
Daddy was engrossed with the concert. Mommy talked with family and friends. Their little boy was about four or five and reminded me a lot of Train Boy. I kept an eye on him as he played behind them in the street. His Mommy may have worried I was a stalker or something. But when a small truck came by I made sure he was safe, I told her I had a son myself and was just feeling very protective. She smiled and seemed appreciative.
I think you can tell if a woman is caring for children by the size of her purse. In addition to their own necessities they carry amusements for the kids. She had balloons, bubbles and only God knows what else.
A vendor walked through selling light ropes and a lot of kids in the area got them, but not the boy I was watching. He watched the others with that sad look of doing without and it just ate me up. I went after the vendor and bought a couple of light ropes. But then what? They might not take too kindly to a stranger buying their child something, so I decided to wait.
Eventually his Mom ran out of things for him to do. The boy tried to pick up a piece of broken balloon to play with, the Mom tried to take it from him. I stepped forward and I asked the Mom if she would take one of the light ropes to give to him. She smiled and took one.
He had the best time playiing with it like the other kids. He whipped it around. Then he threw it in the air and looked for where it dropped. Then the ends were put together to make a hoop and he bounced it on the ground. It would roll and he would chase it. The boy was happy for the rest of the concert and so was I. I don't know what was going on, but as she talked to other people I saw the Mom smilingly point me out to a couple of people. When the concert was over we smiled and waved at each other and that was that.
The Doobs played a good set, but I probably watched the boy more. I have no idea what his name was but for just a little bit I helped him to be happy. That made it the most memorable Doobie Brother concert ever.
Thursday, July 01, 2004
7/1
It's 3:00 a.m., I have to call it quits. Work is in a few hours, and I'm leaving work a little early because the Doobie Brothers are playing Clinton Riverboat Days. Hard to believe that a band that used to play the biggest venues is playing Clinton. Regardless, they'll put on a great show. Almost all the original members are back together, they're just a little grayer. And you know that Holy Wife is going to love it when they break into 'Jesus Is Just Alright.'
BTW, ate at another Mexican restaurant with Super Wife. The kids stayed home to play a new video game. It was the first evening out without the kids in years. I had a taco salad, and it was good. But you know, and this is really going to sound hopeless- but I've recently eaten at the three best Mexican restaurants in town and my favorite is....none of them, I prefer Taco Johns. They make a super beefy burrito the way I want it. I am one hopeless gringo.
When we were at the Mexican place Super Wife mentioned to me that she was talking to the kids and she told them they hadn't gotten me anything for Father's Day. (Well, surprise, surprise, surprise!) She asked them what they thought I'd like. Ms. Pikachu chimed right in with "A new car!" She has her heart set on that Bonneville and lobbies hard for it. Super Wife asked me which car it was that I wanted and I told her the gold Sebring, but I knew it was already sold. That thing was loaded with everything. To be realistic a new van would make more sense though so I'm not bitter about it.
I really, really need to get some sleep.
It's 3:00 a.m., I have to call it quits. Work is in a few hours, and I'm leaving work a little early because the Doobie Brothers are playing Clinton Riverboat Days. Hard to believe that a band that used to play the biggest venues is playing Clinton. Regardless, they'll put on a great show. Almost all the original members are back together, they're just a little grayer. And you know that Holy Wife is going to love it when they break into 'Jesus Is Just Alright.'
BTW, ate at another Mexican restaurant with Super Wife. The kids stayed home to play a new video game. It was the first evening out without the kids in years. I had a taco salad, and it was good. But you know, and this is really going to sound hopeless- but I've recently eaten at the three best Mexican restaurants in town and my favorite is....none of them, I prefer Taco Johns. They make a super beefy burrito the way I want it. I am one hopeless gringo.
When we were at the Mexican place Super Wife mentioned to me that she was talking to the kids and she told them they hadn't gotten me anything for Father's Day. (Well, surprise, surprise, surprise!) She asked them what they thought I'd like. Ms. Pikachu chimed right in with "A new car!" She has her heart set on that Bonneville and lobbies hard for it. Super Wife asked me which car it was that I wanted and I told her the gold Sebring, but I knew it was already sold. That thing was loaded with everything. To be realistic a new van would make more sense though so I'm not bitter about it.
I really, really need to get some sleep.
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
6/29
When I got home yesterday nobody else was there. Having no idea when they'd be home, and being hungry, I did the hunter/gatherer thing on the Happy Refrigerator Hunting Grounds.
This is going to sound odd, but I've hated hotdogs ever since Nader said they were America's deadliest missiles and said what was in them, but lately I don't care. So I got out a hotdog and nuked it (is that appropriate or what?) Then I loaded it up with sauerkraut because it was what I was craving. I also resolved that my next one would be with extra relish, extra mustard, and extra ketchup (out of onions).
No sooner had I taken the first bite than the wife and kids were home. They'd already eaten so it was all fine, no guilt. Sometimes I don't get home till almost 6, so if they're hungry they go for it too. So we're all okay.
Then Super Wife suggested we could watch, "I Am Sam." "Suggested" is just a diplomatic term for "The Queen Commands." It was a terrific movie. I don't know who won the Academy Award for Best Actor that year, but I'm pretty sure Sean Penn was robbed. Considering he played a retarded person, and not just an autistic like Dustin Hoffman had in Rain Main, his was a more impressive accomplishment.
I've never cared for Sean Penn. First he was a hot-headed brat. Then he ran around with Madonna and you knew that wasn't going to last because of the egos involved. Nope, I've never cared for him at all. But in 'I Am Sam' he steps forward as one of the best actors around and I look forward to seeing him again.
When I got home yesterday nobody else was there. Having no idea when they'd be home, and being hungry, I did the hunter/gatherer thing on the Happy Refrigerator Hunting Grounds.
This is going to sound odd, but I've hated hotdogs ever since Nader said they were America's deadliest missiles and said what was in them, but lately I don't care. So I got out a hotdog and nuked it (is that appropriate or what?) Then I loaded it up with sauerkraut because it was what I was craving. I also resolved that my next one would be with extra relish, extra mustard, and extra ketchup (out of onions).
No sooner had I taken the first bite than the wife and kids were home. They'd already eaten so it was all fine, no guilt. Sometimes I don't get home till almost 6, so if they're hungry they go for it too. So we're all okay.
Then Super Wife suggested we could watch, "I Am Sam." "Suggested" is just a diplomatic term for "The Queen Commands." It was a terrific movie. I don't know who won the Academy Award for Best Actor that year, but I'm pretty sure Sean Penn was robbed. Considering he played a retarded person, and not just an autistic like Dustin Hoffman had in Rain Main, his was a more impressive accomplishment.
I've never cared for Sean Penn. First he was a hot-headed brat. Then he ran around with Madonna and you knew that wasn't going to last because of the egos involved. Nope, I've never cared for him at all. But in 'I Am Sam' he steps forward as one of the best actors around and I look forward to seeing him again.
Monday, June 28, 2004
6/28
The kids had a 'Herbie the Love Bug' marathon yesterday. They laughed and laughed. When I was their age I laughed too. This time I just shook my head, it was all so unbelievable. You have to suspend disbelief to enjoy these movies, but a car driving on the ceiling of a tunnel is more than even a true believer can believe. You just know that the only way that car can be on the ceiling is with an anti-gravity device- nope, don't have those yet, or with a really sticky tire. By the time a tire got that sticky the car certainly wouldn't be winning any races. I'm sorry, buy I just don't think these films are very realistic. (You think?)
After everybody else went upstairs to bed I surfed the channels. 'When Harry Met Sally' was on. You know a movie is good when you can watch it again and it's still good. I just loved the line near the end when Billy Crystal says, "When you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start right away." Aaah, romance. When I saw Super Wife this morning I couldn't help smiling. I love her madly. Maybe for her it was same old, same old, but for me it was the first day of the rest of my life (sniff, sniff, gag).
Perhaps trying to, uh, dampen my spirits , She then sent a container full of her mother's leftover chocolate birthday cake with me to work. Getting it down over breaks and lunch will be a job, it's a lot of cake. When I got to work I went back to the conference room, hoping somebody brought something else that would give me some relief. Somebody brought.... chocolate cake. Oy. She and God are so close, they're both in it together.
The kids had a 'Herbie the Love Bug' marathon yesterday. They laughed and laughed. When I was their age I laughed too. This time I just shook my head, it was all so unbelievable. You have to suspend disbelief to enjoy these movies, but a car driving on the ceiling of a tunnel is more than even a true believer can believe. You just know that the only way that car can be on the ceiling is with an anti-gravity device- nope, don't have those yet, or with a really sticky tire. By the time a tire got that sticky the car certainly wouldn't be winning any races. I'm sorry, buy I just don't think these films are very realistic. (You think?)
After everybody else went upstairs to bed I surfed the channels. 'When Harry Met Sally' was on. You know a movie is good when you can watch it again and it's still good. I just loved the line near the end when Billy Crystal says, "When you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start right away." Aaah, romance. When I saw Super Wife this morning I couldn't help smiling. I love her madly. Maybe for her it was same old, same old, but for me it was the first day of the rest of my life (sniff, sniff, gag).
Perhaps trying to, uh, dampen my spirits , She then sent a container full of her mother's leftover chocolate birthday cake with me to work. Getting it down over breaks and lunch will be a job, it's a lot of cake. When I got to work I went back to the conference room, hoping somebody brought something else that would give me some relief. Somebody brought.... chocolate cake. Oy. She and God are so close, they're both in it together.
Sunday, June 27, 2004
6/27
Church, of course. Then lunch at HyVee, almost of course. Super Wife got more Chinese calendars, so I asked her why. She's going to write the ten commandments on the back of them, then give the scrolls to kids that walk by. She's a woman on a mission from God.
She went to work and the kids and I blew time. They played games, I went to Menards. When I got back my growing boy told me he was hungry again. Well alrighty, what do you want, the usual fast food or Steak and Shake. Steak and Shake it was. Train Boy decided to complete the story on the menu. His effort was fairly senseless, but he and Ms. Pikachu laughed a lot about it.
When we were done I drove to Autoland to see if the van with the TV in it was still available. It was. I didn't say anything, but when we first looked at it Super Wife said that if it was God's will to have it it would stay there a while. The Bonneville Ms Pikachu was nuts over was still there too. I didn't say a thing, but she knew. She fairly yelled, "So now do we get to buy them both?" She's sure she wants the Bonneville when she's 16. She figures it will have depreciated enough I can buy it for her.
She also told me she'd had a dream that I won the lottery and gave her a lot of money, "Good times Dad, good times!" The kid is an endless source of amusement.
Church, of course. Then lunch at HyVee, almost of course. Super Wife got more Chinese calendars, so I asked her why. She's going to write the ten commandments on the back of them, then give the scrolls to kids that walk by. She's a woman on a mission from God.
She went to work and the kids and I blew time. They played games, I went to Menards. When I got back my growing boy told me he was hungry again. Well alrighty, what do you want, the usual fast food or Steak and Shake. Steak and Shake it was. Train Boy decided to complete the story on the menu. His effort was fairly senseless, but he and Ms. Pikachu laughed a lot about it.
When we were done I drove to Autoland to see if the van with the TV in it was still available. It was. I didn't say anything, but when we first looked at it Super Wife said that if it was God's will to have it it would stay there a while. The Bonneville Ms Pikachu was nuts over was still there too. I didn't say a thing, but she knew. She fairly yelled, "So now do we get to buy them both?" She's sure she wants the Bonneville when she's 16. She figures it will have depreciated enough I can buy it for her.
She also told me she'd had a dream that I won the lottery and gave her a lot of money, "Good times Dad, good times!" The kid is an endless source of amusement.
Saturday, June 26, 2004
6/26
Saturday was the Quad-City airshow. It was nice to have my sister, the Bummer, there. We arrived about the time it started so we just sat down and watched it.
It was hot, and there really isn't any shade on an airfield, so... we sat under the wing of an AirForce transport. I was happy for the shade, so I had no problem at all buying one of the t-shirts they were selling.
Up to now the airshow always had a military team fly- Blue Angels, Thunderbirds, or Snowbirds. I've seen the first two so many times I hardly care, but not having one of the big teams there was kind of a letdown anyway. But there were lots of parachutists.
After the show was done I thought I'd finally get to walk down the flight line and look at the warbirds. Super Wife said she was tired and it was time to go. So between the show not being particularly exciting and not getting to look at the warbirds up close I was disappointed.
I was disappointed, but not the kids. While I had watched the show Super Wife took Train Boy to the kids area. He got to play on some of the kids stuff and climb on a tank. Yes, even the Army is represented at the airshow. Ms. Pikachu asked me for a couple bucks to get something- all I had were twenties. She was comfortable with that. She and her cousin, Jessica, took off and they were a couple of giggly girls.
Afterwards we ate at Cracker Barrel. I like eating there. The Super Wife likes eating there. We wanted to eat there. Ms. Pikachu complained. We asked her why she objected to eating at Cracker Barrel. She said she'd once had a bad experience with their mashed potatoes. Too bad, you can try them again. Maybe it was a fluke. She had no further complaints, but that is not to say she was quiet. She's never quiet.
Saturday was the Quad-City airshow. It was nice to have my sister, the Bummer, there. We arrived about the time it started so we just sat down and watched it.
It was hot, and there really isn't any shade on an airfield, so... we sat under the wing of an AirForce transport. I was happy for the shade, so I had no problem at all buying one of the t-shirts they were selling.
Up to now the airshow always had a military team fly- Blue Angels, Thunderbirds, or Snowbirds. I've seen the first two so many times I hardly care, but not having one of the big teams there was kind of a letdown anyway. But there were lots of parachutists.
After the show was done I thought I'd finally get to walk down the flight line and look at the warbirds. Super Wife said she was tired and it was time to go. So between the show not being particularly exciting and not getting to look at the warbirds up close I was disappointed.
I was disappointed, but not the kids. While I had watched the show Super Wife took Train Boy to the kids area. He got to play on some of the kids stuff and climb on a tank. Yes, even the Army is represented at the airshow. Ms. Pikachu asked me for a couple bucks to get something- all I had were twenties. She was comfortable with that. She and her cousin, Jessica, took off and they were a couple of giggly girls.
Afterwards we ate at Cracker Barrel. I like eating there. The Super Wife likes eating there. We wanted to eat there. Ms. Pikachu complained. We asked her why she objected to eating at Cracker Barrel. She said she'd once had a bad experience with their mashed potatoes. Too bad, you can try them again. Maybe it was a fluke. She had no further complaints, but that is not to say she was quiet. She's never quiet.
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
6/23
Super Wife and I put up the basketball hoop. Train Boy came out to help so we had him turn nuts that were easier for him to reach. When it was done we had him squirt water into the base, and he was very precise about the amount he put in. It seemed like there should have been enough water in the base, but he said, "I need to count to twenty." So the base has enough, plus twenty seconds, of water. It should never fall over. I was sure we were wasting our time putting it up anyway though. Of course as soon as it was up the kids were only too happy to shoot baskets.
Then we went to Target and Ms. Pikachu went manic again. It's funny for awhile, then it gets tiring. Eventually she smiled and said, "Dad, did you know that when you're annoyed your voice gets deeper and you talk slower?" Good for another laugh, but I'd had enough. I said I would wait for them in the van. She followed me for a ways and kept begging, "Come on Dad, pull my finger! Well, won't you at least smell my thumb?" (She'd been trying on shoes) She's just nuts, and a lot of fun, but sometimes I've just had enough.
Super Wife and I put up the basketball hoop. Train Boy came out to help so we had him turn nuts that were easier for him to reach. When it was done we had him squirt water into the base, and he was very precise about the amount he put in. It seemed like there should have been enough water in the base, but he said, "I need to count to twenty." So the base has enough, plus twenty seconds, of water. It should never fall over. I was sure we were wasting our time putting it up anyway though. Of course as soon as it was up the kids were only too happy to shoot baskets.
Then we went to Target and Ms. Pikachu went manic again. It's funny for awhile, then it gets tiring. Eventually she smiled and said, "Dad, did you know that when you're annoyed your voice gets deeper and you talk slower?" Good for another laugh, but I'd had enough. I said I would wait for them in the van. She followed me for a ways and kept begging, "Come on Dad, pull my finger! Well, won't you at least smell my thumb?" (She'd been trying on shoes) She's just nuts, and a lot of fun, but sometimes I've just had enough.
Monday, June 21, 2004
6/21
Last night the the combination of carbohydrates I ate and the meds put me right to sleep. I never made it out to look at digital cameras, never got on the computer, didn't get Patricia's basketball hoop up either. I just slept. It was raining cats and dogs so it really didn't matter anyway.
When I woke up this morning everyone was still sleeping. Going upstairs on the creaky steps might have woken everybody up, so I stayed downstairs. I had a quick bowl of cereal and went to work, still wearing yesterday's clothes. It's hard to tell if anyone else can tell, and sometimes I don't want to know. That was as close as I get to living on the wild side.
Last night the the combination of carbohydrates I ate and the meds put me right to sleep. I never made it out to look at digital cameras, never got on the computer, didn't get Patricia's basketball hoop up either. I just slept. It was raining cats and dogs so it really didn't matter anyway.
When I woke up this morning everyone was still sleeping. Going upstairs on the creaky steps might have woken everybody up, so I stayed downstairs. I had a quick bowl of cereal and went to work, still wearing yesterday's clothes. It's hard to tell if anyone else can tell, and sometimes I don't want to know. That was as close as I get to living on the wild side.
Monday, June 14, 2004
The procedure went surprisingly well. And I did sleep a lot. Anybody that knows me knows that for a few years the facial pain prevented me from laying down- I had to sleep sitting up. Once you get used to that you can sleep in any position. The Valium enhanced my sleeping abilities, as if I needed the help.
The halo was held in the back by two bolts pressing very hard against my skull. Sitting in the waiting room I was still able to lean back against the wall and sleep. Yes, I was given shots to numb the areas around the bolts, but it was really weird to lean back and feel the bolts. Not that it mattered, I slept. During the procedure, I slept. I cannot help but think that two Valium is one two much.
I also wonder why people even want it. Nothing happened while I was under the affects of Valium that made me think, “Whoa, I’ve got to do this again!” Maybe it works differently for other people, I dunno. My gut feeling is that I just don’t have what it takes to be a drug addict.
The procedure itself was nothing dramatic. I lay down on a table and my halo was locked into place. From the neck down I could have done a horizontal hula, but the head wasn’t going to move a millimeter until it was over. All the medical people left the room and then a device that looked like a gray-colored plate went back and forth over my head. Back and forth, back and forth, you are beginning to get sleepy, very sleepy. You have already slept half the day away but you will still take another nap. Nobody said they needed me conscious.
When it was done the Super Wife walked me to our car parked at the curb right outside the radiology unit. We had parked on the ramp, so I was confused. She explained that she’d found out radiology patients could get a sign that would let them park there. Cool.
This is being posted too long after the surgery I know, I happen to be doing it now because I was doing so well I started to cut back on the medications I was taking. It seemed like a good idea. Today the nerve let me know it wasn’t ready for it.
I took two pills in church, like always, to be ready for lunch, just in case. But apparently my Tegretol level has dropped too far for that to work. It must have taken at least 20 minutes to eat a hamburger. It was not fun. It was too much like old times.
I’ve been taking more meds today, but it’s not working yet. I’m typing this at 4:30 a.m. because around 3:00 a.m. it gave me a slap that was nasty enough to wake me up and bring back the fear. I took some more pills and hopefully I can still get some sleep. God I hate this, just when I thought it was over it slams me again.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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The halo was held in the back by two bolts pressing very hard against my skull. Sitting in the waiting room I was still able to lean back against the wall and sleep. Yes, I was given shots to numb the areas around the bolts, but it was really weird to lean back and feel the bolts. Not that it mattered, I slept. During the procedure, I slept. I cannot help but think that two Valium is one two much.
I also wonder why people even want it. Nothing happened while I was under the affects of Valium that made me think, “Whoa, I’ve got to do this again!” Maybe it works differently for other people, I dunno. My gut feeling is that I just don’t have what it takes to be a drug addict.
The procedure itself was nothing dramatic. I lay down on a table and my halo was locked into place. From the neck down I could have done a horizontal hula, but the head wasn’t going to move a millimeter until it was over. All the medical people left the room and then a device that looked like a gray-colored plate went back and forth over my head. Back and forth, back and forth, you are beginning to get sleepy, very sleepy. You have already slept half the day away but you will still take another nap. Nobody said they needed me conscious.
When it was done the Super Wife walked me to our car parked at the curb right outside the radiology unit. We had parked on the ramp, so I was confused. She explained that she’d found out radiology patients could get a sign that would let them park there. Cool.
This is being posted too long after the surgery I know, I happen to be doing it now because I was doing so well I started to cut back on the medications I was taking. It seemed like a good idea. Today the nerve let me know it wasn’t ready for it.
I took two pills in church, like always, to be ready for lunch, just in case. But apparently my Tegretol level has dropped too far for that to work. It must have taken at least 20 minutes to eat a hamburger. It was not fun. It was too much like old times.
I’ve been taking more meds today, but it’s not working yet. I’m typing this at 4:30 a.m. because around 3:00 a.m. it gave me a slap that was nasty enough to wake me up and bring back the fear. I took some more pills and hopefully I can still get some sleep. God I hate this, just when I thought it was over it slams me again.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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Tuesday, June 08, 2004
We got to the U of Ia bright and early. The NASCAR Wife put on a fine display. I think she blew the doors off a doctor in his Porsche. What a thrill, I was hoping she didn't get me killed before the procedure. They duelled up the road and she trapped him behind a dump truck, traffic did the rest.
I was given valium to help me sleep, imagine that. They put the halo on while I was basically out of it. Everybody says the guy who did it was quite sociable, I have to take their word for it. Again, I was just conscious enough to say, "THAT ONE HURTS."
To clear up any misconceptions- the halo wasn't really a halo. I thought they'd put a halo on and I'd get to start crossing and blessing people, it's not like that. It's more like the frame for a football helmet. If that sounds weird it's because it is.
After the halo was on they fed me breakfast/lunch. I love this place. Then I napped for three hours or so. When I woke up the wife told me, "there's a computer over there, you could send and check e-mail." I can't do much though, to type I have to close my right eye and that's a pain in the butt. That's just a figure of speech.
I just scratched my head and my head is still numb, that's almost interesting. I think I'll go take another nap.
On the one hand I hope the procedure works, on the other hand... I hope the procedure works. If at any time I start smelling bacon I'm going to push the panic button, because I am NOT the other white meat.
Vhttp://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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I was given valium to help me sleep, imagine that. They put the halo on while I was basically out of it. Everybody says the guy who did it was quite sociable, I have to take their word for it. Again, I was just conscious enough to say, "THAT ONE HURTS."
To clear up any misconceptions- the halo wasn't really a halo. I thought they'd put a halo on and I'd get to start crossing and blessing people, it's not like that. It's more like the frame for a football helmet. If that sounds weird it's because it is.
After the halo was on they fed me breakfast/lunch. I love this place. Then I napped for three hours or so. When I woke up the wife told me, "there's a computer over there, you could send and check e-mail." I can't do much though, to type I have to close my right eye and that's a pain in the butt. That's just a figure of speech.
I just scratched my head and my head is still numb, that's almost interesting. I think I'll go take another nap.
On the one hand I hope the procedure works, on the other hand... I hope the procedure works. If at any time I start smelling bacon I'm going to push the panic button, because I am NOT the other white meat.
Vhttp://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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