The TV Saga: The Final Chapter

You may recall that, back in March, I had quite a saga in purchasing a new TV for the livingroom.

I was finally successful after finding the same TV (for less money) at Wal-Mart and also adding HD to our cable service. You may also recall that I tried previously to move the old TV a few months ago to get it out of the house but had to give up before I dropped it on my fool feet.

And so, it sat on a small canvas throw in the dining room floor for four months. It was getting to where looking at it made me angry. I wanted it gone – and yet I felt powerless to achieve that.

That ended today.

I noticed that it was electronic item collection day in a neighboring community – where I was planning to do some hardware store shopping anyway. That sealed the deal. That TV was going OUT OF THIS HOUSE and INTO THE CAR. I didn't care what it took. It was happening. I reminded myself of what I had been able to accomplish on a similarly hot summer day four years ago: destroying the old concrete walkway with a 14-pound sledge hammer. I had been encouraged by the fact that someone had quoted me $600 to do the job. (That alone was more than half of the budget for the whole walkway/porch bricking project!)

I was able to drag the TV on the canvas across the dining room and then into the kitchen. From there, things got dodgy. The door from the kitchen to the basement and the backdoor which opens into the landing cannot be opened completely at the same time without some careful maneuvering. And while the TV wasn't incredibly heavy (maybe 40 pounds) the weight was situated all in the middle. And you can't reach the middle (or at least I couldn't) because of the bulky, lightweight protruding back of the set. Total nightmare.

I managed to wrestle it through one doorway and then the other and carefully navigate it onto the deck. From there, my plan was to load the TV into Pearl's trunk. I drove Pearl out of the carport and forward as far as I could without hitting the shed, meaning she was parallel to the deck. I threw open the trunk and then began my challenge.

Getting the TV from the deck to the car wasn't hard. Hefting the TV into the trunk was a little more challenging. Then, trying to maneuver the TV into the trunk (so that it could be closed) was an exercise in futility. Pearl's trunk just wasn't large enough. (The T-bird might have been another story.) After several minutes of trying, I opted for the backseat instead.

By this time, it was about 98 degrees outside so I went in to cool off for a bit before shifting my attention to the backseat.

That proved to be an equally tight process because the open backdoor leaves no room for wrangling.

Thank God I had put blankets and the canvas down first. And finally, success! I used the seatbelt to secure the TV in place and off I went.

Finally! SO very glad to have that thing out of here.

It's a good feeling to accomplish something you don't even think you can do.

Planning … Again

Yesterday, I made a list with several separate subsets of “to-dos.”


On one side of the page, I separately listed all of the things I still need to do in the bathroom and kitchen. *Sigh* That is one hell of a list! Daunting, to say the least.

On the other side, I listed all of the things I need to do related to these projects, like measure for and order the special order tile to put along the top of the shower surround. That list is shorter and more manageable. I figure that as I am able to cross those things off the list at least the page will bear SOME evidence of progress!

And, on the adjacent page, I have listed all the things I need to have Lawrence do or that I need to discuss with him. Yes, Lawrence – THAT Lawrence! He called me out of the blue on Friday afternoon. (He must be psychic as his name has come up a lot lately.) I’m trying to work out some days next month for him to reappear on the scene. But first, I have work I need to complete so that he can do the things I’ve listed for him. That's kind of a tall order.

I hope that I will be able to take care of some of that later this week. I’m planning to take a few days of vacation (I DO still get vacation time) from the WEEKS I have stockpiled for the year. If the weather cooperates, as well as my stamina, I should be able to get ‘er done. Or, at least enough of it to get Lawrence back on the job.

Here’s hoping.

The Birthday

Sunday was my birthday.

Birthdays were like a national holiday when I was younger but not so for quite some time. I even went through a phase where I dreaded them. (Turning 40 ended that.) So, I wasn't sure what kind of day it was going to be but it turned out to be one of the best I've had in a while.

The mother hasn't been well lately and she didn't feel like doing anything. That actually ended up not being a bad thing. Pearl and I went on an adventure.

Poor Pearl. She was FILTHY (and I get unnerved when she's dirty) so I wasn't going anywhere without getting her cleaned. As luck would have it, I had tucked away a free coupon for a deluxe car wash at a place along the way. Wahoo!

The mother wanted me to look for a gift item at Cracker Barrel so I stopped there next. Then, it was on to Archiver's and from there to Harbor Freight. I got some new sawhorses and a few other unanticipated bargains. Score!

I even stopped at ANOTHER scrapbook store and did a buzz through Tuesday Morning's scrapbook offerings before heading to get some food. I was hungry and it was getting a bit hot out so I turned Pearl homeward.

MMMMmmmm good. I passed on getting either a cake or a pie but as the afternoon wore on, I was overcome by a chocolate attack. Shortly before sunset, I decided a blizzard would fill that void quite nicely. Apparently, everyone else in town thought it would be a good idea, too, as both the store itself and the drive-thru were jammed. Sigh. Don't these people know it's my birthday?!

As it turned out, the wait in line was a blessing in disguise. Had I been able to zip in and out of DQ, I'd have been quickly back home and inside, consuming my blizzard ... and I would have completely missed the gorgeous sunset going on outside. What a bonus gift!

All in all, it was a really good day, something I haven't had in a while and for which I was exceptionally grateful. I know I haven't always been as grateful as perhaps I should be. Days like yesterday make it a whole lot easier to be grateful for.

Writer, baker, cabinet maker

I've been trying to get organized and get working on the kitchen and bathroom again.

Yesterday, I managed to make a little progress with kitchen stuff. See for yourself. Here's one of our current drawer fronts in the kitchen. It's the only one that still has the old handles on it. Currently, none of the other drawers or any of the cabinets have any handles on them.

When I took them off, I thought I would be replacing them a heck of a lot sooner. But, as time has worn on, we've adapted to it. Earlier this week, I managed to locate the pieces for what will become our new drawer fronts. I spent a good chunk of Saturday assembling and sanding them.

They still need some paint, but you get the idea. I even tacked on one of the new handles so I could see what it's going to look like. The photo doesn't show it very well, but the handles are a nice, shiny nickel finish.

The fun part is that I still haven't completely figured out HOW I'm going to get them installed. (Except for the two fake ones in front of the sink. I'll just pop those two out. No problem.)

I think they look pretty good. Seeing these might be just the inspiration I need to get things moving again.

Here Wego

It's been almost nine months since we lost Ozzie.

I still miss him terribly. (I have a horrible feeling that I always will.) And in the past several weeks, I think I have felt that emptiness just as much as I did during that first month or so where I was still expecting to see him in the morning and laying a certain way so as not to kick him! 

A couple of times recently, the mother has asked me if I wanted to get another dog and I've said no. And then the other night, at the conclusion of an episode of "Property Brothers," the twins brought their client family a dog … a little Yorkie. It was more than my heart could stand. And I lost it.

The poor mother. I know she felt bad herself and then more so for me. "Isn't there a Yorkie rescue?" she asked. "There are lots of babies out there that need a home."

So I did something I hadn't in a while: I did a local shelter search (less than 50 miles) and about five Yorkie/Yorkie mixes came up! I hate to discriminate, but I immediately discounted the senior dogs. I don't think I could stand to get attached only to go through last year all over again in the not so distant future.

There were two real contenders though! I read a description of one (whom I might even see tomorrow at a local adoption event). His picture caught my eye first.  It was the description though of the second Yorkie who melted my heart:

Wego is a little dog with big personality! He loves to be with his foster Mommy, even sleeps in bed with her. He gets along nicely with the dogs of all sizes in his foster home. Wego loves the kids and will play with them for hours.

This little guy will cuddle up on the couch to watch TV, his favorite shows are always on Animal Planet. But he is ready to go outside and run or do yardwork. Wego is very well mannered and knows how to sit and lay down. His favorite snack on a hot day is doggy ice cream!

Do you have room for Wego on your couch?

Why, yes. I think I do.

When I read the description to the mother she immediately said, "You're going to contact them, aren't you?" I fired off an email late last night. I want to meet Wego! (I even love the name, stolen from a Budweiser commercial!)

It may not work out; he may already be adopted or in the process of or maybe we wouldn't click. But I'll never know that if I don't try. So, we'll see what happens. It's an important first step.

I'll take it as a good sign that it was exactly three years ago that I rescued a tiny kitten, if you believe in the power of karma.

Now maybe a little dog can rescue me.     

The Year of Living Dangerously

It was exactly one year ago tonight that my life began its most recent downward spiral. 

That's the night we took Ozzie to the vet and got the news that to this day is among the worst I've ever heard: lymphoma. (Three months later, he was gone.) A week later, I was haggling with the car repair people to get Pearl in for her post-hail repair and a week after that, I was haggling to get her back.
 And then, a few days after I got Pearl back, I found out I was losing my job … or half of it anyway, along with a significant chunk of my salary.

My car. My dog. My job. Except for family and friends, everything near and dear to me was under attack and so was I, if by proxy. For months, I was almost afraid to wake up, sure that yet another siege was just around the corner.

Instead, except for the occasional plunge to the depths, things seem to have reached some kind of plateau during the past several months. And while that's not a bad thing, it's not necessarily a good thing either. It's definitely better. It just seems like it should be better than that, if that makes sense.

It's not that I'm not grateful; I am. I know how much worse it all could have been. Still though I can't help but hope that it won't be much longer before I've crawled farther away from the abyss and am scaling the mountaintop.

There's always next year, right?

Dreamin' … DIY Style

When I woke up yesterday morning, I had an idea stuck in my head. I don't know if I dreamed it, saw it somewhere and my subconscious shook it loose overnight, or if I had a genuine original thought in my first waking moments.

In any case, I had an idea for a project before my eyes were even completely open. That just doesn’t happen. Especially that I SAW what it should look like, at least roughly. That's something the mother does – not me.

When I got off work, I went to Home Depot and I found the stuff to make it happen: 3x6 braid rope tiles. Correction – I found one version of the stuff to make it happen. I came home with the "in stock" white trim tiles to see if they would work, knowing that if they do, I will have to buy the black "special order" ones. The black special order ones that are almost TWICE the cost of the white in stock ones ... it never fails.

I think they will be a really cool accent to the black ceiling, black and white newsprint wallpaper, white beadboard and black and white hex floor. I guess it's a good thing that it's a small bathroom so I guess it will be worth the price.

Now, I have to find a corbel or some kind of corner piece for the tiles to butt up against in the two corners inside the shower surround. (For some reason, those corners aren't flush with the wall.) The good news is that there are such things available in vinyl/plastic/PVC.

Always something, isn't it?

Flattened

We’re riding yet another heat wave in St. Louis. (Well, it is July so I guess that comes with the territory.)


On Tuesday, I managed to get out of the office almost on time! It was blasted hot (set a record with 103 degrees) and all I wanted to do was get home. I hustled to the train – which also was on time – and scrambled aboard. Ah! Even IF I called home and discovered I needed to make a stop, I should be home by 1:15 at the latest. Yeah!

Except that when I got off the train and arrived at Pearl, I was greeted by a FLAT rear tire, a screw head protruding just above the surface. Sh*t! And when I opened the trunk and pulled out the donut, my spirits were quickly more deflated than the tire on the car: it was too low to get me home. (VERY NASTY expletives) So, even if I changed the tire, I was going nowhere.

OnStar to the rescue! Especially since it was 103 outside. (Pearl told me it was 105.) In any case, BOILING HOT! I was immediately relieved that the two six-packs of paper towels I’d bought over the weekend had not made it into the house. I cracked one open and began blotting myself as I waited for the operator.

Within minutes, OnStar handed me off to Cadillac Roadside Assistance. From there, I was told the name of the company that was responding and to expect a text or an automated call letting me know an ETA. My cell rang 20 minutes later. No automation, but another OnStar operator checking on my status. When I said I’d not heard from the responder, he put me on hold and called them. ETA is 18 minutes or less. By this time, I’m completely drenched, to the point of dripping. Five minutes later: “Hi. This is George from X. I’ll be with you in 20 minutes.” Five minutes after that: “This is George from X again. I can’t get across the bridge. My super has called another tech who is already on your side of the bridge. I don’t want you to have to wait any longer. His name is Jamal. He’ll be calling you.” By this time, I’d been waiting 45-50 minutes already. I was roasting.

I started Pearl and cranked the A/C. The cavalry is coming, so hang on! Twenty minutes later: “This is Jamal. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” Seriously? I would have thought he’d BE there by now! A minute later, another OnStar operator called. She was dismayed that no one was there. “Believe me, if he’s not here within those 20 minutes, I’ll call YOU back,” I said.

At 1:55, almost 90 minutes after it began, the ordeal was over. Almost. Donut on, but Jamal has no air tank. WTF? This IS WHY I CALLED FOR HELP! “You can’t drive on that,” he says. Thank you, Captain Obvious! Um, yeah. I kinda knew that. “So, what? I wish myself home?”

The final solution: I limped her along several blocks to a gas station with an air machine. From there, the tire store! (We’ve done business with these people for as long as I can remember.)So, less than three hours after the ordeal began, Pearl was safe in the driveway with her tire repaired, the donut stowed. I had showered, put on cool, dry, clothes and gulped down two bottles of ice cold water.

In the end, I’m glad it wasn’t the following day. We hit a record 106 yesterday and today is more of the same.

Tuesday ToolTalk: Frogg Toggs' Chilly Pad Towel

We just came off a 10-day streak of 100+ high temperatures. And it's only July. So, while it's not a tool per se, it's something that has already come in handy while I use a variety of tools at This D*mn House.

It's the Chilly Pad Cooling Towel from Frogg Toggs. And I can honestly say it's one of the best inventions of the 21^st century. No. Really. IT IS.

It was a serendipitous discovery while standing in line in the paint department at Home Depot during a recent Behr sale. It was a bit warm in the store so the display with this blue rag that, from a distance, didn't look that different from a Handi-Wipe, caught my eye. Touch it though and it was a piece of heaven! Cool. Damp. But not dripping. Even the mother was amazed and she's not easily impressed. "You need one of these," she said. I heartily agreed.

So far, I've kept mine around my neck on a few 95+ and on one 100+ day. (I didn't get to use it during my concrete work though. I was afraid the dusty mix would stick to it and ruin it.)

I'll defer to the manufacturer for a description of this 33" x 13" beauty:

Made from a hyper-evaporative material that retains water while remaining dry to the touch, The Chilly Pad® is an innovative way to cool down while enduring outdoor heat and/or high levels of physical activity. When wet, the towel begins to evaporate and cool, providing cool, soft comfort to the user. When it stops cooling, simply re-wet the towel in hot or cold water and wring it out. Within minutes, it’s cool again.

Pros: It's a great size, easy to use and really helps cool you down. It's machine washable and you can store it in the plastic tube it comes in. (If it dries a little too stiff, just soak it in water for a few minutes and you're back in business.) It's easy to toss in a gym bag, luggage or with camping gear.

Cons: When the heatwave was at its height and the A/C didn't quite cut it, I neglected to put it on my pillow. Should have done that! The biggest con right now? Good luck finding one. But, by planting this seed in your mind, if and when you see one, you'll probably want to buy it.

Conclusion: It's soft. It's cool. It's a great size to drape around your neck and dab your face. It was $12.99 at Home Depot. It was 13 of the best dollars I've ever spent.

Availability: In addition to Home Depot, you'll likely find them at Cabela's and other sporting goods stores which carry the Frogg Toggs line.

Empathy for the Vampire

When I was a kid, I’d get up late at night when I couldn’t sleep and turn on the TV. A lot of times, it was a test pattern, because programming had long since ended for the day.


Occasionally though, I’d luck out and find some old movie if I was patient enough to flip through all of the 10 or so channels we had back then. More often than not, I would find one of the 1960s “Dracula” movies with Christopher Lee. Seeing them many years later, I couldn’t help but laugh. But watching them as a 4-, 5- or 6- year-old, I was wide-eyed and thrilled.

The most enduring scenes for me are the ones where Dracula would inevitably try to outrun the impending sunrise. For the last two weekends, I’ve developed an empathy for the vampire. While the first beams of light weren’t likely to blow holes through me or cause me to burst into flame as it would the iconic character, there were times, especially on Saturday, where it felt like it would!

I dutifully rose at 5:30 and was outside 15 minutes later, just like I had the week before to work on the bricks out back. Out there, I had a few hours, maybe as many as three, before I was working in full-on sun. Out front, I had less than half that time. And, on this Saturday, the temperature was rising even faster than a week before.

The walkway I’d made four years ago, needed a little more TLC than I anticipated. While I expected to be finished by no later than noon, when noon arrived, I hadn’t even finished clearing and cleaning the walkway yet. With the temperature a balmy 99, I had to quit. I was red as a strawberry, completely drenched and a bit shaky. I thought if I could wait until the shade came out onto the walkway, conditions might improve enough that I could finish.

They did. But only marginally. By then, it was 107 degrees (the day’s high and the fifth or six record temp in a row during a 10-day stint of triple-digit heat). The walkway was still mostly in sun, but I persisted. Carrying 50- and 60-pound bags of concrete was pure hell. I took brief breaks, killed several bottles of water and retreated to the house for an out-and-out cool down once. By 7 p.m., I was cleaning up and getting ready to call it a day. All totaled, I'd spent between 8.5 and 9 hours out in the heat.

As a result, Sunday was a very lazy day. I felt like the vampire had gotten me -- and siphoned every bit of life from me.

This morning, it’s back to the grind. I’m tired and still a bit sore but the weather is a welcome change. It’s a bit muggy but not the balmy 80 it’s been the past few mornings at dawn. There's a light breeze and an undertone of coolness, courtesy of the front that's to give us highs in the 80s all week. And, it’s only supposed to hit 90 degrees today. Yes, that’ still warm, but it’s been hotter than that at 10 most nights for the last two weeks. So extreme heat, I bid you adieu.

Like Dracula, go away for another 80 years or so.

Breaking the Routine

For some reason, one morning last week I decided to break with my morning ritual and jump off the Metro train at the Arch/Laclede’s Landing stop instead of riding through to the heart of downtown.


I’m glad I did. Glad because the walk in is SO much better aesthetically, if not from a cardiovascular perspective. (UP THE HILL from the Landing to the Arch grounds and then a few more blocks into Downtown proper.) I enjoyed the change so much, in fact, that I opted to do it again this morning.

When I walk in from the Convention Center stop, all I see is modern architecture and parking garages with the exception of the Railway Exchange, one view of the Federal Reserve, the deteriorating and all-it-historical-beauty-covered-up-by an-ugly-1950s-façade Mercantile Library, and the Marquette Building. And, the ever-depressing sight of the homeless who sleep along the block of Locust Street that stands along the way.

From the Landing, you get immediate gratification before you even leave the platform. (The platform is within the Eads Bridge expansion.) Through the mid-section archways of the bridge, you get a nice view of the Mississippi AND of the Arch itself. That view is even more enhanced once you go down the stairs and hit street level.

From the cobblestone street, you ascend the hill that borders the Arch grounds. Up, up, and up. As you ascend, Washington Avenue comes into view and the historic Missouri Athletic Club on one side and the Kennard Carpet building on the other. (You can see both buildings in this post. Or, more of just the MAC here.) Then, you take your chances crossing Third Street/Memorial Drive to get to Washington.

Turn on Washington and you’ll note that the carpet building (most recently the Roberts Vista) has now been converted to lofts. A gorgeous wood door entry is now on the Fourth Street side. (More on this building later.) Then, it’s a great view of the Federal Reserve and its plaza area. Up next, the Security Building. And while I’ve walked past it dozens of times, looking at it in the early morning light, I noticed things I hadn’t before. (More to come on this building, too.) Then, I get to zip past the Merchant’s Laclede (one of the oldest buildings downtown) and get a different angle on the Marquette.

And this morning, in addition to all of the different and alternative views, I got to pet a dog and give directions to a tourist.

It really puts a positive start on the day. Amazing what even a small change can do sometimes.

The Work Around

Because I am out the door ahead of the sun most weekdays, I love to sleep in on the weekends.

But to get something done this weekend, Mother Nature put the kibosh on that with our continuing heatwave. On Sunday, I was up before 5:30 a.m. and outside working before 6. I decided to repair my brick edging around the shed. It's been ailing for a while now. While the lower level facing the alley and the double lower level facing the yard were still rock solid, the upper layers of both left something to be desired.

The first hour or so was pretty pleasant. I was still in complete shade and it was right at about 80 degrees. By 8:30, I was working in full-on sun (not so pleasant) and by 9 a.m., the temp was really starting to rise. By 10, I know it had to be in the 90s. The rising temp and the sun beating down on me made that last hour pretty oppressive.

I took two short breaks and managed to be wrapped up by 11 a.m. including the time it took to clean everything up and put it away AND unload the extra concrete I bought to repair the walkway and porch out front. (Can you believe it's been FOUR YEARS since I put that in place? And, outside a few minor touches about two years ago, I've done nothing to it. Some weeds came through though and just general wear and tear are starting to show in a few spots.)

Right now, my plan for Wednesday is to repair the porch and walkway, repair the fence (which has some nice holes in it, courtesy of all the hail from both last year and this spring) and replant some trees -- little fake pines we've got all around the house, the shed and the deck -- that were uprooted during a storm several weeks ago. (I have 3 of 10 left to do.) And, since it is supposed to be 102 degrees on Wednesday, just like it was on Sunday, I guess I'll be up bright an early again.

Fun times.

Heatwave!

To say it’s hot is a terrible understatement. Try “Pits of Hell” and you might be getting close. And the end is nowhere close with triple-digit heat projected through at least Monday.

The good news is that the humidity was incredibly low yesterday (16 percent) or we would have been roasting like capons on a spit. As it was, it was hot enough for me. The news said we had an actual high of 108 yesterday. Pearl reported a balmy 107 when I got inside around 2 p.m. And once I’d arrived home?

More like 112.

My biggest fears at times like this are power outages or A/C failure. (Our unit is getting up in years unfortunately.) It’s one of those purchases that, if I was working full-time again, wouldn’t be too big a deal. There were some outages in our area yesterday but it avoided us. Whew!

My goal for the weekend is to keep cool. I am contemplating getting up early (like a normal work day) and doing some much needed concrete work. This is PERFECT weather for it. Plenty of time to cure with nary a drop of rain in sight!

And I hear we're not alone. This weather is going on all over the country. So if it's in your neighborhood, stay safe and be cool.

A Day Late

Well, technically, I’m not a day late … yet.

But, I will be. At least for ToolTalk Tuesday I will ...

I have pictures taken and most of the information that I need to do two, count ‘em, TWO product reviews! But neither is ready to go. Yet.

Not wanting to lose momentum with the blog though I am still planning to get one posted this week – and to be ready for next week … on time.

I’ve been just a little on the distracted side lately. (Can’t imagine why. Can you?) And getting sick last week didn’t help.

I had hoped that I might sneak a day or two of vacation in around Independence Day next week but that’s looking like less and less of a viable thing. (The good news is that I am busy enough at the day job that this is the case.)

I’d really like to get things rolling with the house again. I’m afraid the mother and I might kill each other soon if I don’t. (As I said in another recent post, sometimes living in a work in progress can really take its toll. Believe me when I say we’re there.) And while there are certainly things that need doing – and that I can do without spending any or at least very little money – the timing to take on some other projects is nigh. But I’m a little wary about writing some of the checks that I know it will take to do them.

The flip side of that though is that I potentially have the opportunity to get some help – at a greatly reduced rate – thanks to skilled family members, so … it seems like a very worthwhile investment.

I’m kind of at the point where I’m so overwhelmed, I don’t know what to do! And lately, once I DO decide on an activity: a) something big happens that throws me off course, b) I start, only to realize that key components for the job are missing, c) I want to start but am so tired by the time I get to it that I don’t, d) the mother springs an alternate activity on me or e) some combination of all of the above.

Until I can get my head screwed on straight again and my legs solid beneath me, I guess there’s always Powerball …

Blur

It's hard to believe that it's Monday again … already. Seems like it was just Friday, then I blinked, and here I am.

Saturday was a massive to-do list. Yard. Car. Household errands. Sunday started out as a day of rest but ended up being housework and run-of-the-mill tasks. And was it hot!Summer has wasted no time arriving, that's for sure. We're supposed to be in the 90s and even hit 100 a few times this week. And no rain. The yard is a lovely shade of brown.

At least it won't have to get mowed as much.

Clouds

When I walked out the door for work Friday morning, the first thing I noticed was crisper, cooler than it had been in the pre-dawn hours during the rest of the week.

There were clouds EVERYWHERE. And not only were there everywhere, almost every one of them was two or three shades of gray, and each had very clear definitions. One thing about clouds is the majority of them kind of fade into the sky. Oh, there might be a handful with clearly-defined boundaries, but the vast majority tend to meld with the sky.

Not these clouds. ALL of them had a shape and a contrast. It was actually a little spooky, as it was not yet light out.  But then, the tide began to turn. The closer I got to work, the more beautiful they became as the sun began to shine through.

When I walked in my office, this is what greeted me. Put me in a really good mood.

It has been one hell of a week. Make that month. Or maybe year. I definitely need more experiences like this in my life.

The Healthcare Issue Comes Home

It's been one of the most, if not the most, horrific of allergy seasons.

I've been on the verge of a sinus infection for months. Sometime in the last two weeks, I went hurtling over the edge. Part of the resulting domino effect found me fighting an ear infection last weekend.

Early on Monday, I called the doctor's office. Once I finally got someone on the phone, I was quickly told that sure, I could have an appointment … on July 3. Seriously?! Five minutes later, I was on the website for our local Walgreens' Take Care Clinic. 

Less than three hours after that, I was back home with drugs in hand. Today, while worn out and hardly 100 percent, I am actually better. Without medication, I wonder, how much worse would I be right now? I'm just glad I don't have to find out.

But … what if I were among the millions without health insurance? Chances are good I wouldn't have bothered to call the doctor. And the clinic? Chances are better I wouldn't have the $89 fee and the subsequent $100 plus to pay for my medication. (Being among the fortunately insured, I paid a $20 visit fee and $10 for my medication.) It was a struggle to get up and out the door all week, even though I was being treated. Just how sick would you ultimately have to become to be cared for?

I think a lot. (Probably too much for my own good sometimes.) And this little experience really got me thinking.  As I type this, my own state is notifying THOUSANDS of people that they will no longer provide health insurance premium coverage (for adults who make a certain percentage above the poverty level) or prescription coverage (for seniors at or below poverty level). 

My fear is that this could soon be the national experience we face after the November election. And to extend the fear to my own doorstep, if l lose my remaining thread to employment, when it comes to healthcare, I could be just like those who are pulling those happy letters from the state out of their mailboxes: screwed.

Think you're outside the healthcare debate? Think the election doesn't matter? Think again.

Silenced

I can't believe this is actually working. Eureka!

I've been trying for three or four days now to post and spent almost TWO HOURS yesterday trying to contact Blogger re: the issue. For some reason, I was having trouble with ALL things Google so it was tres frustrating. Especially considering that, while the blog is largely an impromptu exercise for me, I actually already had a few readymade posts to share. (Watch for those, assuming this works ...)

If you posted a comment, I apologize. I have NOT been able to moderate them. (Still don't know if I can.) Still curious to see what's going to happen once I hit publish ...

A Father's Day Wish

Happy Father's Day to all of those great men who happily answer to the name "Dad" and who couldn't imagine life without the people (little or long-grown) who call him that.

Father's Day has long been an awkward and mostly overlooked holiday for me.

No year though has been more awkward than this one. Short of dying on my birthday, my father found an even better way to imbed himself in my thoughts – by dying the week before Father's Day.

Hug Dad. Last-minute gifts for Dad. What did you get Dad this year? I've been under continuous assault of reminders via television, email and other online channels. I've probably thought of my father more in the last week than I have in the last 10 years combined. 

Not all of it has been pleasant, but even I have to smile at some of these images. Even if this shot, which I think is the first ever of the two of us together, seems to show that things got off to a less than happy start.

Some of these other shots though, well, they look like ones you'd expect to see in a family album to illustrate a loving relationship between a father and his child.

There are more shots like this than I thought there'd be (a dozen or more, easily)  but nothing after about age 4 or 5. Nothing. Talk about a life just stopping.

I wish I could remember these images as more than a sweet little moment in time, forever captured. Maybe though it's best that that's all they are, lest even that be ruined somehow by reality. So, I'll take them at face value, be thankful they exist … and smile at them. Happy Father's Day, Dad.

Shoes!

I've been too busy I think for the enormity of recent events to really catch up with me. So I'll allow myself to remain blissfully unaware for now and speak of happier topics.

One of the side benefits of the mother's great room clear-out has been becoming the beneficiary of multiple pairs of shoes. (A total of six pair – and a dress!)

Now I knew my mother had several pairs of shoes but watching all of these slowly emerge from her bedroom showed me just how much even I underestimated the vastness of the collection. Imelda Marcos had NOTHING on the mother. But ...

Holy Jeez! She only has two feet.

I'm not sure why exactly but the mother, who wears a Size 7 shoe, frequently buys Size 8. (Wearing a Size 8, I guess I shouldn't question it and just be grateful.) This is what I managed to gain. And this is where I tell you that Blogger sucks and won't let me upload photos correctly. Sorry. They're cute shoes though; trust me. Two pairs of flip-flops, two pairs of Converse-type sneakers with open backs, a pair of black patent mules (ADORE!) and a pair of moccasins.

I only declined a handful of pairs and then had to pass on a few others because they were too small. Looks like the Salvation Army will be hitting the motherlode quite literally.

The Send-Off

Papa was a rollin’ stone.
Where ever he laid his hat was his home.
And when he died,
All he left us was alone.  – “Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone”

Ernest Hemingway always offered this advice to aspiring writers: “Develop a built-in bullshit detector.”

I’ve been thinking about that a lot during the past 24 hours or so. You see, I got the call yesterday that I’ve known was coming for a few months now. My father died yesterday morning.

Regarding Hemingway’s advice, I had a fabulous teacher, the absolute best: my father. If I’m a little crusty around the edges, exceedingly streetwise and street-weary (without ever having lived on them), more than a bit cynical and perhaps a bit too reluctant to trust, I have him to thank.

That probably sounds cruel or resentful but it’s not meant to be. It’s genuine. And because it is, you’ll find no sweet or flowery eulogies here. To provide one would be dishonest to both him and me. I know it’s cliché, but I latched onto the catch-phrase, “It is what it is” to describe the last chapter in the saga that has linked me to my father. I refuse in death to treat it any differently than in life. We always said his world was ruled by "The Three Bs" (booze, broads and bullshit) and no one knew them better.

I may someday regret not having gone to see him during these final weeks or even to have spoken with him. I just don’t think it would have changed or resolved anything. And, I didn’t think it was worth upsetting a dying old man to prove it. I think that in his deluded way my father would have expected me to express all manner of things that, in all honesty, I cannot.  (Or maybe this is my way of giving myself a pass. In either case, it’s done.)

As I was not the person in charge of his medical decisions, neither am I the person handling his burial. (Other than not knowing what is going on, I am OK with that.) Considering our estrangement, it seems appropriate. And, it seems typical of the uncertainty I’ve experienced with him for much of my life.

It’s uncertainty that is, at the moment, impeding the one thing I think I can do for him at this point: write an obituary. I’ve basically done this, leaving placeholders for service/burial information for now. It’s brought my PR skills to bear and tested my journalist’s objectivity at the highest levels.

The other thing I can do is try to vanquish, once and for all, the host of negativity that a lifetime of wrongs has generated. Easier said than done, but the task is lightened by the fact that during the past few years and especially since this all started in April, I've been hefting stuff overboard.

I've identified this as a long-term task. In the short term, I've vowed to focus on a few of the things I can point to as happy memories, even if they did come to a screeching halt 30-35 years ago.

• He taught me to play chess – and poker – before I was 5. The latter got me in trouble the first day of first grade in Catholic school – but only because I was beating a bunch of boys and taking their milk money. It also meant that during the many family poker games with my uncles and extended family members and friends, I was the only kid who would get left at the game table to cover while their dad took a bathroom break.
• He made football understandable enough for a 4-year-old and forever spurred my interest in the game. 
• When I was 7, he came home with a kitten in the pocket of his trench coat. He had been closing up at the bar he owned at the time and when he took out the trash, he met up with two guys who were bouncing said kitten back and forth and saying what all they were going to do to the unfortunate feline. After a few seconds, the story goes, he intervened and told them that he had a gun that said they were going to give the kitten to him. (Considering that the old man packed a .357 in those days, it was probably a wise choice. And it was probably one of the nicest things he ever did.)
• When I was 11, we moved into a rental house that was a nightmare. But the mother's decorative eye scored us a deal on rent and served as my introduction to DIY.  During the next 18 months, I would have some of the best – and worst – times of my life in that house.

I could probably add two or three more fondly held anecdotes; it's a pretty thin collection. And while they don't go very far in outweighing all the terrifying memories, at least they exist.

The one thing I really do owe him a debt is for developing, installing, fine-tuning and regularly testing my "bullshit detector." I don't think my writing would be what it is without the rich experiences that intangible device helped me to cultivate as a reporter. Without it, I don't think I would have the depth of understanding and empathy that I have for those who are abused, chemically-addicted or otherwise downtrodden that I do.  Nor would I be able to spot a flim-flam man at 20 paces.

All in all, it's been an invaluable tool. So thanks, Dad. There will always be that. May you find in the next part of your journey what managed to elude you here. I wish you peace.

A Crazy Woman … with a Trash Bag

It all started because of a three-pronged adapter.

I own several. I needed one. I couldn't find any.

This failure touched off a lengthy string of profanity as I ran from place to place looking for the half-dozen or so adapters that I know are located somewhere within This D*mn House or at least within the confines of the property (extending to My Pimped-Out Shed). And it touched off a frantic pitching session that is almost legendary among pitching sessions. (Every once in a while, living in a work in progress takes its toll. When you can't find things you are used to having readily at hand, that's often a blasting cap.)

But I'm jumping too far ahead. Let me go back a few days to the mother's brave undertaking to begin clearing out her room, a job which has been long-neglected and, as a result, might have qualified us for an episode of "Hoarders."  In fairness, a lot of it is due to stuff from the bathroom being "temporarily" (more like "long-term") stashed in there.  And, some of it is due to the fact that 2012 hasn't been the greatest year for her health wise. This is completely atypical of the mother who is a neat freak (yes, I am Oscar Madison to her Felix Unger) and I know it's been a sore spot with her for some time. Over the long weekend though she dove in headfirst.

So, while the mother was dutifully sorting and pitching, I started an effort of my own. I have a feeling that a few of the things may be regrettable but, overall, I'm starting to see a little progress. (And am now on a third trash bag, one of which is full of things to be DONATED.)

It's made the living and dining rooms temporarily unlivable but for the short-term, I can stand it. It's one of those things you learn to deal with when you are living in and serially remodeling a home and doing multiple massive projects simultaneously.

Sometimes you get to tell yourself to chill out, forge on and appreciate PROGRESS!!!

Under the Wire

It's hard for me to recall a Memorial Day weekend in recent history that did not include the purchase of paint. Memorial Day 2012 was no exception.

Thanks to an extended weekend, I managed to buy three gallons of paint with just hours to spare to still qualify for Behr's $5/gallon rebate. My receipt said 4:52 p.m. Very close indeed.

I just managed to complete my online rebate form. Online rebates are one of the greatest inventions evah. No UPC codes to clip. No paper form or envelope to fill out. No postage required. Now I just wait for six to eight weeks for my $15 to magically appear. (Those are always a fun surprise because you wait so long usually that you've already forgotten about it by the time it arrives.)

Completing the online process was probably one of the easiest, fastest and most productive things I've done during my time off. I've largely been involved with sanding cabinet doors and digging through all of the debris associated with the plethora of projects in progress at This D*mn House and trying to make sense of them all. And yard work. Lots of yard work. And much planning and preparing.

It was hardly the major progress I'd hoped for but, together with a little shopping and a little sleeping, it could qualify as a mini-vacation. So, you'll hear no complaints from me. 

Except that I have to get up at 5 a.m. tomorrow. (Not that I mind going back to work so much; it's more returning to the early-morning routine that I'm not that thrilled about. You get a pattern going after just a few days and it's hard to go back to your regular bit, or at least it is for me.) Having said that though I'll be happy to go back.

Here's hoping that your short week is going at least as well.

A Visitor

We don't get a lot of visitors. And we rarely get visitors this young.

Or this cute.

But that's how we started Saturday afternoon. This is one of my cousin's GRANDbabies. (Her first grandbaby, in fact.) It was painful to type that actually. I have several cousins who are 10 are more years older than me (because my dad was the youngest of five), but this is a grandchild of a cousin who is only about half that much older. So, it makes it all the more surreal.

My cousin, her daughter and Baby S. stopped by for a while. At first, the baby was very quiet, almost sullen. For nearly an hour, she would sit silently as we chatted, only occasionally fussing.

During the second hour though, she seemed to come to life, cooing, babbling and thrashing around. She did NOT cry, something I feared more than once she was about to do. She even let me hold her ... for about 3 minutes. Then, she had to go right back to mom!

She's not much of a smiler, or at least she wasn't on Saturday but I did manage to catch her waving. (Pretty impressive for a not quite 7-month-old!)

I got to share some of my newfound family genealogy and was pleased to find that my cousin's daughter was at least interested, especially now that she has this whole new generation to share it with! (To me, that gives all the effort some real value, beyond sating my own curiosity.)

I TOLD you my Memorial Day weekends rarely ever go as I plan them. But at least this one has, so far, had PLEASANT surprises. Let's hope it's an ongoing trend...

Welcome to the Season

It’s Friday. Finally. And this particular Friday brings two things with it. First, Memorial Day weekend is the unofficial start of summer. (Of course, with the weather we’ve had this year, summer started back in March sometime!) And second, it is the official start of the DIY season.


I’m extending my holiday by taking a few days’ vacation (first of the year). That means when I leave work on Friday, I won’t be back until THURSDAY! Don’t envy me too much. I’ll be plenty busy.

I haven’t completely set on the duty roster because if I know one thing about planning for Memorial Day, it’s that those plans never quite come to fruition. I almost inevitably end up working on something I’d never planned to, generally courtesy of the mother and some project she manages to whip out of her backside. (I mean that lovingly, of course.) Or else Mother Nature intervenes.

That said, it will be busy.

Whatever you’re doing this holiday weekend, I hope that it is enjoyable and/or productive. Don’t overstrain, my fellow DIYers or next week will be intolerable! Be safe and have fun, everyone!

A Permanent Location

I did a strange thing on Wednesday. Strange for me at least though I know other people do it every day: I put a down payment on a home of another kind.

No, This D*mn House is not for sale and I'm not planning on vacating it any time soon. And, after almost 26 years, it's hard to think of anything more permanent, though there is. No, this residence has a much more permanent nature: a spot in a mausoleum.  

It's not actually for me. It's for the mother.No, don't panic. She's still very much with us!

The mother kind of sprang this on me a few weeks ago. (I think this flirtation with mortality came about in part because of all the craziness with my father and then the arrival of an advertising postcard.) I sent in the card for her and then promptly forgot all about it. And since it's not a topic I've ever been comfortable with, I was happy to do so.

So when the day came, I was very uncomfortable.  Uncomfortable because it's not a happy topic and uncomfortable because I couldn’t wait to see how much this would cost. Let's just say I was pleasantly surprised.  Since the cemetery is planning to build two new mausoleums, it was offering a heavily discounted price on its remaining slots in the existing one.

As I said, while this is technically for the mother, I can ultimately hang there, too, if I'd like. (I plan to be cremated so they said a two-for-one deal was acceptable. We can even add Ozzie if we want. And Toby, too, if that's how the mother wants to handle him when his day comes.)

While it doesn't cover all the costs of burial, it does cover the vast majority. And since funeral costs do nothing but increase (we were just told that the average lower-end, non-cremation burial was somewhere around $11,000!) it seems like a solid investment.

I want to be cremated. The mother doesn't.  Essentially though, a mausoleum does the same job (reducing you to ashes) just over time. And because it's a more efficient use of land than a grave, it's even environmentally friendly. That made me warm to the option, at least a little bit.

So we've made the plans.  We're now clear on each other's wishes. We've got a location. And ideally, by the time either of us needs it, it will have been long ago paid for. She'll need a casket. I'll need an urn or a box. (Or for that matter, a coffee can. Why the hell will I care? I won't know.) We've had the conversation. And now we don't have to talk about it anymore. *putting hands over ears* Lalalalalalalalalalala. End of discussion.

Seriously, I can say that it seems like one less thing to ever worry about. And I have to think, for whichever one of us goes first, there will be at least a little comfort in that.

Tuesday ToolTalk: B&D Rapid Charger, 9.6-24v

I have a number of Black & Decker cordless products. (If you follow the blog, you know that I love my 24v trimmer and my 18v combo tool set.) All but one, my trusty-dusty first 9.6v cordless drill, use the slide-in battery packs ranging from 18 to 24v. I am a huge fan of these products.

But trying to keep track of the chargers and making sure I have the right one for the right battery and watching the time to make sure I don’t overcharge the 18v batteries … whew! You need a traffic cop for this stuff. I borrowed this summary from an online review that I thought summed up the various B&D chargers out there.

B&D chargers also come in (at least) 3 varieties:


1) "Dumb" chargers that supply a constant charge current/voltage, i.e., like the charger that comes with most B&D products that has the brick that plugs in the wall and a small piece that slips onto the battery; these have 2 terminals.


2) "Semi-intelligent" 2 stage chargers that supply a constant charge current/voltage for charging, but then drop to a "maintenance charge state". These also have 2 terminals.


3) "Intelligent" fast chargers that charge at a faster rate, can sense overcharging and modify charge current accordingly, and then drop to a "maintenance charge state" once the battery is charged. These chargers have 3 terminals.

So when I saw that I could narrow my chargers down to one, I was thrilled. When I saw I could do this for under $30, I was ecstatic. And when I saw that this also was one of the “intelligent” chargers, meaning that it charges at high-speed AND I don’t have to babysit my batteries with a stop watch … I was out-of-control happy.

When I recently did my first trimming of the season, I was amazed how quickly my batteries were ready to go again. I had initially charged them the night before, periodically checking the charger light to see when one finished and then swapping it for the next. I set it on the counter, plugged it in, slid in a battery and voila! As I’m gearing up for more cabinet work, I’ll be using my drills and sander pretty steadily. It’s nice to think that I can always have a battery ready to roll while that work is under way.

Pros: This “intelligent” charger lets you know what it’s doing. A steady flashing light tells you it’s charging; a solid light means it’s done – no more guess work. A super-fast flashing light means you have a bad cell in the battery and it needs replacing. The unit is small, only a little bigger than the battery, so it doesn’t take up much space. I LOVE the versatility of a single charger. “Maintenance state” means that if I’m off doing something else and leave the battery in place for hours after its charge, no harm done.

Cons: I should have bought one much sooner. So far, that’s the only negative I can think of.

Conclusion: If you have multiple B&D tools like I do that use the slide-in (not lithium ion variety) batteries, this is a must. Frankly, I don’t know how I’ve been using these tools this long without it.

Availability: I got mine at Amazon.com for $29.98 – with free shipping. Not sure if this unit qualifies, but through May 31, Amazon is offering $10 off a $50 purchase of select B&D items. They’ve got some good deals on batteries, too, (which I took advantage of; watch for those results soon).

A Mostly Quiet Weekend

Hope everyone had a good Mother's Day.

It was a peaceful one at This D*mn House. The mother didn't feel like doing anything so for me it ended up being a rare day of lounging.  It kind of made up for being in a perpetual state of motion on Saturday.

For some reason, I was awake at my normal weekday time (5:20 a.m.) and still up nearly two hours later.  I made the most of it by going shopping ahead of what I anticipated would be a crazy crowd (11^th hour Mother's Day shoppers). I was right because as I departed each store and drove off every lot, I noticed a steady stream of shoppers quickly taking mine and several surrounding spots.

Once I was back home, I got some information about a local recycling effort so that I could drop off the old TV. (Illinois passed a law that took effect back in January making it illegal to throw out electronics products.) I couldn't, however, get the TV out the door by myself and the mother was having trouble with her hands so wasn't able to be much help. It's not so much the weight, though it is a bit heavy. Mostly, it's the bulk and the fact that I can't seem to get my arms under and/or around it in such a way as to keep a good grip.

And so, for now, the TV still sits on a canvas in the dining room floor. Sigh.

Doldrums

I spent the entire afternoon working in the yard on Saturday – in 90-degree heat. Not exactly intelligent and yet I knew that if I didn't get it over with, it would only be worse.

How right I was! It has rained off and on since the wee hours of this morning and the grass is already showing signs of more growth. Sigh.

Despite feeling bad much of yesterday, I pushed along to get more things done. And today, I paid the price for it. In part being sick and in part because of raging storms between midnight and 4 a.m., I got very little sleep last night. So when the alarm went off this morning, I groaned.

And I stayed home.

I slept a good chunk of the morning – when I wasn't awakened by the trash truck, my neighbor's motorcycle or wrong numbers on my cell phone. Even so, I still don’t feel much better.

It's been a bitch of an allergy season, so I'm guessing that's part of it.  I had a fever so I hope it's not a bug. If it is, this is NO time of year to catch one – they never go away! Another part is that I'm just out of energy. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

 And all of this is complicated by an itch to jump back into house projects and GET THEM DONE! I'm sick of living in a sorta kinda done house. Especially when it should have been done a year or two ago. I'm hesitant though to get TOO deep into working on something lest the job front change for the better and equally hesitant to get TOO deep monetarily – lest the job front change for the worse.

This year is fast approaching the halfway mark.  I'm thinking it's about time that it does  some major improving. And soon.

So, to help it along, I need to make some kind of plan to move forward. Why should the universe make any effort on my behalf if I don't, right?

It's Only a Super Moon

Call me jaded, but I expected something a little more impressive than what I saw from something with "super" in the title.

1. It wasn't that big.
2. It wasn't that bright. (Seen brighter ones that were just any old "full" moon. Or that's how it seemed to me.)
3. It didn't even seem that close. (Even though the moon was supposed to be closer tonight than at any other time this year.) I've remembered walking out and thinking "wow -- you could touch the moon." Didn't even remotely feel that way tonight.

The best viewing time was supposed to be at 10:34 p.m. CT though the moon wouldn't be closest to the earth until around 11. I shot the upper shot at 10:55 and the lower shot 20 minutes earlier.

Stalking the Dead

One of the ways that I've been coping lately with all the craziness of the living is to walk among the dead. No, I've not been strolling through cemeteries. I have, in fact, been walking – virtually – through generations of lives.

 I have been finding and documenting birth and death records and all of the little things that go on in between. Land deeds. Marriage licenses. Birth announcements and obituaries. Military service records. Newspaper clippings about the latest family get together or church social.

In taking these little sojourns, I've identified family I didn't even know I had and unearthed ancestors I could never have planned on finding. I've even connected with a few new distant cousins along the way and is THAT ever cool! And, having reconnected with some of my first cousins recently, it's a nice way to share what we know – and don't – about our family.

I've been doing genealogy off and on for 25 or more years, and with any kind of real dedication for about half that. I even started a blog a few years ago to share my findings and brick walls with any would-be relatives but I wasn't very good about keeping it up. (I'm back on the wagon though so if you stop by, you'll find a handful of very recent posts.)

I've already gotten my paternal grandmother's line farther back than I ever thought possible. And this has included a PHOTO of my great-great-grandparents! Booyah!

There are SO many more online resources available than there were when I first started checking in the late 1990s. Back in the day, you had to load up MICROFILM and painstakingly scroll through to "browse."

My interest has been rejuvenated in part by the reprisal of the PBS series "Finding Your Roots" with Dr. Henry Louis Gates. (LOVE that man and this is one of the fastest hours on television for me every week.) NBC also has a genealogy-related show called "Who Do You Think You Are?"

Sometimes, it can be incredibly fun to find out. So, if you've got the itch to shake your family tree I say, "Shake, baby, shake."

A Real-Time Meet and Eat

Sometimes, our real and virtual worlds get to mesh and you actually meet a bloggy friend live and in-person! Vicki from Not so SAHM and I have been talking about such a meeting since way back when she lived in Missouri and it didn't sound like a pipe dream.

Sadly, I missed out on a chance to meet with Vicki and her two darling girls last year during one of her whirlwind stops in St. Louis. But when she recently gave me a head's up several days in advance that she and Du were bringing the girls to town for another visit, I was NOT going to miss out again!

During their stopover, the Not So SAHM fam wanted barbecue. Well, there was only one place to take them: Pappy's. I've only been there a handful of times but have eaten food from there LOTS. (Work uses them fairly often for catering.) And every once in a while, I've been underwhelmed. It seems to go in cycles. For the most part, though, totally delish.

I'm one of those people who worries about food recommendations. It would be just my luck that the one time I have out-of-town guests primed from primo BBQ that something would go wrong – except it didn't. Not only were Vicki and troop able to arrive ahead of schedule (because there's always the fear that Pappy's will sell out) but the food was great.  The family seemed happy with their ribs.

 The meal and the time both quickly disappeared. (Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.) It was a pleasant visit and such a great kick to see Reagan and Ashlyn live and in action. Thank you so much, Vicki, for making the effort to meet and for sharing your beautiful family with me. Oh, and for lunch, too. (By slyly asking me what I was going to get, Du managed to stealthily purchase my lunch.) I was pleasantly surprised and a more fitting thank-you will soon be on its way.

Better News

I've been absent for a while and man, has it has been a craaaaazy time. I've got lots of catching up to do, so I should probably start out with one of the positive things that have gone on in the past month.

Many of you have been following the recent health saga with my estranged father. I am happy to report that, at least for now, he is doing better. He was rushed back to the hospital last week but, despite a rather grave prognosis, is doing better than when he was the last time he had been returned to the hospital.

So, for his sake, I hope that he is able to resume some quality of life.

I found out today that he is no longer on oxygen so at some point, I should be able to talk to him. I'm not sure what I will say. I'm sure that it will get awkward pretty quickly after "hi" but we'll see how it goes. In the meantime, I'll just keep putting little bits of positive energy out there, pointing it in his direction.

It's Raining Bowling Balls

I'm not sure what it is about April hailstorms. I do know that I am SO done with them.

Last year, they managed to rain down golfballs onto Pearl's trunk – the only part not covered by the carport. This year, they rained down TENNIS BALLS on the MonkeyGirl's ride, Luna. (A really pretty Volkswagen CC.)

We were scrapbooking on Saturday at a charity event the MonkeyGirl's office has each year (sometimes twice!) when the tornado siren went off shortly before 6. We all went into an enclosed stairwell and rode it out. We didn't have to wait long before, as the MonkeyGirl put it, "it started raining bowling balls." As it turned out, it really wasn't much of an exaggeration.

It's not a great photo but it's good enough that you get the idea. Bear in mind, too, that I took these pictures 15 minutes or more after the fact, after I had been holding it for a minute or two and then it was melting while my volunteer held it -- and it was about 70 degrees at the time. So this is smaller than when it fell. These suckers were MASSIVE!!!!

I've never seen hail this size firsthand before and I hope that I never do again. The scary part was that hailstones this size were NOT rare. They were still all over the parking lot after they'd done their damage. Windshields were cracked or busted out. Like in the car above which belongs to a fellow scrapper and was the first damage I noticed in the aftermath. Back windows were smashed out all over the place. Car bodies looked like they had been target practice in some kind of a bizarre game.

I knew there would be damage but to so many cars and all so severely. Meanwhile, Pearl was at the MonkeyGirl's house and appears to have come through the much smaller hail storm that happened there unscathed. Knowing that made me feel even worse once I saw this. That's the MonkeyGirl's windshield -- and only the beginning of the damage.

She has an incredible attitude about it. Luckily, we weren't on the road when the storm broke out, so no one got hurt. And, as she put it: "That's what I have insurance for."

Like I said,I've never seen hail like that before, except on TV or in pictures online. It's just unreal how much damage it can do and how quickly it can do it. Let's hope that we're DONE with this stuff! While I'm not bold enough to assume we'll never have hail again, it would be nice if it would be a while before it comes our way.

Resurrection

When I called the hospital on Friday, the ICU nurse told me they had no patient by my father's name. She redirected me back to the switchboard to see if he'd been moved.

"Sorry, ma'am," the operator said. "There's no one here by that name."

Huh? "Are you sure?" I asked. I didn't see how this was possible. I had intended to contact the social worker anyway so this seemed like as good a time as any. It took three phone calls but I got a quick call back and learned that he had been moved to a floor below. It took five more calls throughout the day to find out that he was able to follow a finger for a few seconds before trailing off. Sounded encouraging.

By Saturday, he began coming out of it. For the first part of the day, he couldn't talk much and once he could, all he would say is no. No to food. No to medicine. No to anything they tried to get him to do. By late afternoon, "he'd done a 180 and was cooperating." He's still very confused but otherwise, doing much better than anticipated. They'd gotten him a priest for his own Easter service.

I'm glad. I hope he will be able to resume the level of life that he knows in the not so distant future. Thanks for all the thoughts, prayers and well wishes during this time. I really appreciate them.

I'm unaccustomed to the drama of it all or I should say, out of practice. As I was growing up and through my young adulthood, it was a way of life; they just weren't always in hospital settings. During the past few decades, I'd forgotten how crazy his infrequent appearances in my life could be. The past several days were a big and not so subtle reminder.

It seems apt that this happened during the Lenten season. It gave me a chance to reexamine a few things. It gave me a chance to check my "forgiveness" level. I may not be all the way there but definitely pretty far along. I'm only human. I'm also not stupid. It's important to note that forgiveness doesn't equate with forgetting. Forgetting would be insanity. (Using the definition that insanity is doing the same thing – and expecting a different result.) Forgiveness then is guided by the heart; forgetting by the brain.

I know that his "friends" (they who set up the password) who, during a call last week, were quick to criticize my lacking forgiveness with Scripture, are probably good people and well-intentioned. So, I can't really fault them. I don't expect them to understand my experiences any more than I might understand theirs. But, I can share a bit of applicable Scripture they obviously overlooked: "Judge not lest ye be judged."

Burst of Insanity

After days of being crazed (up to and including this afternoon), I am almost eerily calm.

It's amazing how acutely you can feel insanity and chaos when you're thrown headlong into it – after you've been distanced from it for an extended period of time. But, of course, as my father is involved, I should expect nothing less.

On Tuesday night, I found out from one cousin, via another cousin, that my father – who has lived about 200 miles away for the last several years – is in serious condition, probably dying. A friend of his had used an old contact number to reach my cousin; the friend thought family should be involved because he was on a ventilator.

Determined to at least try to do the right thing, I responded. I found out that sometime on Wednesday, he'd been taken off the vent – and was breathing on his own. By Wednesday evening, his vital signs had stabilized. He had not regained consciousness.

When I called back the next day, I was confronted with an interesting twist: "Do you have the password?" the male nurse asked me after I explained who I was and who I wanted an update on. Password? What password?

The nurse rattled off names to me. One of them was obviously the friend. The other was the name of his most recent ex-wife. "Can you call one of them to get it?" the nurse asked.

I don't know these people. I don't have their phone numbers – and the nurse can't give them to me. (That's not entirely accurate. I HAD the friend's phone number. His wife was supposed to call back on Wednesday but never did. I wrote them off as unreliable and called the hospital myself after that.) Exasperated, something just snapped.

"Look," I began. "I haven't had a face-to-face conversation with this man in 25 years. I haven't spoken to him at all in at least three or four years. He calls. My mother will talk to him sometimes, but I refuse to. I know this is not your fault, so forgive me, but I left my secret decoder ring at home today. I'm trying really hard to be decent here and to do the right thing – so how do I get a password? Someone needs to help me. Who can I talk to who can help me?"

An understanding charge nurse heard me out, asked me a few questions I could easily answer and I had my password. She put me right through to ICU and to the care nurse. I got my update: still unresponsive. And, while the friend had said he had voiced wishes to not be on life support, no DNR is in place. The nurse gave me his vitals and said he was due for a bunch of lab tests on Friday. I asked the nurse about his prognosis. She couldn't give me much. "His heart could stop tonight. His heard could stop six months from now," she said. "He's very sick."

Well, I'd kind of figured that much out on my own. I asked if he could rally and come out of it or if his current state was as good as it was likely to get. I was trying to get at how the lack of a DNR was playing into his care. "As it stands, if he codes, we will do everything in our power to save his life." But, that has a limit. If they had to do anything "invasive" – like a trach or a feeding tube – that would require the permission of next of kin. "I guess that's you."

Yep. That's me. And this was just the start of 36 hours of insanity …

A History Mystery

For me, the enduring history geek, what could be a better way to get my mind off things and to channel a bunch of energy in an infinitely more positive direction? Well, I did specify the history part ... but I digress.

In short, I stumbled upon a mystery without really trying. It revolves around this postcard. It's a picture of the Old Courthouse in downtown St. Louis. The mystery part is that statue. I have a bunch of postcards featuring the Old Courthouse and an assortment of other photos, all capturing different moments in time. I've never seen this before and it really piqued my curiosity.

So, I went to the Courthouse today and spoke with a historian and an archivist. I thought for sure that the folks at the Courthouse would look, nod and say, "Oh, yes, this is ..." and instantly solve the mystery. Except they didn't. They had never seen it either!

The best they could do was confirm my theories about this card.

1) While it is postmarked January 1913, I think the photo was taken in 1907-1910 range. (Courthouse folks say may be a little earlier - 1905).

2) Statue is likely something from the World's Fair/1904 Olympics.

3) Likely was part of a very temporary display (year or less).

I've looked through a bunch of photos and some of my postcards from the era roughly but no dice. We'll have to see how this shakes out.