Monday (or why I hate technology)

It is Monday. I was to go to bed early but thought I would get one thing accomplished and update antivirus software on-line. It won't load and tech support doesn't know why. So I thought I'd log on and blog and spent 15 minutes fighting sytem just to get on. Thiis is the ending to a day that included my car making strange noises, my assistants car dieing on her as she got to work, and C left her watch and two rings on hood of her car and remembered them five miles down the road. Despite a thorough, slow, deliberate hike nothing turned up. If the entire world wakes up to discover it is once again Monday morning, I for one will be thrilled. (and now the computer, software, internet gods are not allowing me to click on a title for this griping session) argggggggggggghhhhhhh!

Paging Dr. Gulp

I am a pack rat and part of this Independence Day (after the bike ride on the local trail) is being spent cleaning, removing, (and yes in some cases rearranging) things that have accumulated. I am tired, hot, and ready for a hot dog, apple pie and slice of watermelon before watching the fireworks (on tv since local town cancelled their show due to extended drought). During cleaning up I found some bills from a decade ago and one was from the time I had upper GI test. At least I recall that being the one when I had to swallow some awful concoction. First the nurse came in, gave me something that was the same diameter as quarter and instructed me to swallow it. I asked what this was testing and she said the width of my esophagus to which I replied "so if choke to death we'll know it wasn't wider than a quarter". She was not amused. Then it got bizarre. In stumbled, literally, a pot bellied man who hadn't shaved in a few days, wearing a Superman "S" T shirt, with either remains of his breakfast or some red kryptonite on it. "May I introduce Dr. B" the nurse said, actually bowing a bit and swinging her arms toward him as if he was the doctor behind door #2 and this was "Let's Make a Deal". Actually, I strongly suspected she was saying it for his benefit as much as for mine because he seemed to nod, as if "Oh, yeah, that's me." He mumbled something and stood beside her. "Dr B will now ask you to lie on the table and drink a portion of the solution." Again she turned to him and nodded before he took the prompt and repeated, word for word, what she had said. This echo method of medicine continued throught the testing procedure. The only other memory that I have of the experience was being instructed to stand in some pretty ridiculous poses which I was pretty sure was a joke they were playing on me. (Let's see if he'll really do this one) The final result was that everything looked good, or so they said. I'm still certain that he was the janitor or another patient that they paid to stand in for the real Dr. B. Although they did make a pretty impressive team.

Changing gears, it still feels strange to be celebrating the 4th without being on the lake. I haven't had my feet stapped into the skurfer in three years now and I miss the sensation of being lifted out of the water, cutting across the wake, bumping, flying, crashing, having Larry throw the (small) football from the boat and actually catching it. Boating out to the dam to listen to the local volunteer band play and watch the fireworks.

Enjoy.

From 1988

Sometimes I thought the wind would catch me
and carry me away.
Sometimes I thought I'd drift along
on an endless sea of gray.

Sometimes your voice rescued me,
sometimes your name haunted me.
But I always thought that the wind
would carry me away.

(found among stuff from a life time ago)

My parents will be celebrating their 52nd anniversary this weekend. So much has happened within our family since the big Golden Anniversary party. P knew something was wrong with her leg then but had not yet been diagnosed with ALS. R and her crew still lived in the 'old homestead' directly across the street from the folks. Now the ramp that Dad built onto the front porch is not for my nearing 80 year old parents but for my younger sister for the times she will get to visit and R and her crew, the youngest of which is only two and still loves his grandfather more than anything (except perhaps tractors and Thomas the Train) live over two hours away. Not as far as a lot, but my Dad never discovered any hobbies in life beyond work, family, and church and now he has physical limitations, his family is not within walking distance, and after a lifetime of attendance and sacrifice for his church he sits in church on Sundays bored to tears with the contemporary service and seemingly unwilling to try a new one.

I was, we all three were, extremely fortunate to grow up in a household where our parents were so completely devoted to each other and so very much in love. My father may have been the stereotypical 70's Dad but he never had any problem showing his compassion for Mom. As kids we couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. They seemed to share every opinion and were one mind on all things. Of course as I got older I learned they didn't see eye to eye all the time but they never showed it in front of us and there were never any deep dark secrets that other kids had to deal with.

I was always notorious for taking candid shots. I loathed posed pictures, forced smiles, primping. I have three favorite pics. One is a Christmas shot of my parents, the year they gave each of us a piece of furniture. They sit next to each other, hair uncombed, eyes a bit tired, smiling at each other. The second one is of my sisters and I, being silly and the third is of me holding my oldest nephew when he was born (two decades ago this month).

My thoughts seem to hang there, waiting for that next rush of (?) to come pouring out but then I sit and look back at the page. It's incomplete but I somehow that seems appropriate.

No good deed....

No good deed goes unpunished. I spent last week house/dog sitting for sister P. During that week car broke down (fortunately turned out to be minor issue but poor dog was about to explode by time I was able to get to the house), didn't sleep well at all during week and then my computer and patio furniture were both delivered early. (the one time someone actually delivers days before they are supposed to) Only problem with computer is the software was all in Spainish and neither the manufacturer or the seller seem to be able to do anything other than have me ship it back. (oh but they will gladly sell me another one in the meantime). No wonder the seller has closed all their stores within a 150 mile radius. So I am back on the old, very slow sytem and the office is an absolute mess so the last bit of weekend will be spent trying to create some order out of this chaos.

On very plus side got to eat sushi with H & T one evening and was able to help C study for her exam.

Night

phone conversation on bus

I ride the bus transit into town to work (thank God for not having to drive). Anyway, the guy sitting behind me was chatting loud enough for entire bus to hear and his side of the phone converstions went like this:

Call #1 (to friend or associate)
"It was a f'ing mess, I'm f'ing trying to get this f'ing deal done but there isn't one g.d. f'ing truck in the whole g.d. f'ing state of California to hual this g.d. s. out of there and my f'ing boss wont' get off his f'ing ass and okay the f'ing deal." (repeat similar f'ing lines for about ten f'ing minutes)

Call #2 (from boss)
"yes sir, I understand sir. I didn't know our cost and just wanted to close the deal. Well, it's after six o'clock here and he was in Dallas and was about to leave the office so I'll call him first thing tomorrow to see if he still wants us to arrange to have it hauled"

Call #3 (back to friend"
"Yeah, that was my gd boss. He hasn't a f'ing clue, I can't get one g.d. truck in whole gd f'ing state of California..."

Call #4 (from wife)
"Hey sweetie. Yeah, I'm on the bus and will be home in twenty minutes. Listen at choir practice tonight keep your ears open for any jobs or anything"

I bet the choir sounded like some f'ing angels. : )

apple sauce

I don't recall how she and I hit upon it. Substituting the phrase "apple sauce" for the word "whatever". It somehow became an inside joke. And I am not sure why that was the phrase that hit me when I began to type tonight. Maybe because I have too much to do before this month fades away, maybe because while I was waiting for my ancient computer to allow me into blog I glanced at the bulletin board in my office/spare room and saw the Christmas pictures I had made of my sisters nearly 25 years ago. P at 18 and R 14. Healthy with a whole life ahead of them. Saw them both over the weekend at the folks. P is confined to her wheelchair now. ALS, there with S and their two kids. R & D with the youngest three of their four. The fourth somehow already having completed his second (and probably last) year of college. I never understood my father's strong desire to turn the clock back, but then again I was young(er) then and he was about the age I am now.

There is no joy in my writings any more. No wit, no flow. L stole part of that, or mortally wounded it and I let it die by neglect. I feel there is nothing to share, and with whom and why? To much to do and what does any of it matter? My sister, dieing, and me with no real responsibilities beyond feeding two stray pets.

Apple sauce

it was a beautiful day

There is a picture of me at about age four or five. You can't really see that is is me, as the shot was taken from the edge of our front yard but the blur with his nose pressed to the window of the living room is me. What you can see is the largest snow fall I have ever witnessed in my home state. And there I am trapped inside by a cold and a Mother who feared colds turning into things much worse. So my Dad and some cousins are frolicking outside while I am inside. I don't recall that day but it is similar to today. Except rather than snow it is glorious sunshine begging me to come out with my bike and hit the trail. And instead I am sitting inside, finishing up favors for others and nursing a cough/fever. My computer is ancient, the printer one frustration after another and in between hacks I can see the blue sky beckoning. Maybe tomorrow.