Saturday, June 17, 2006
Monday, June 12, 2006
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Trish horrified as Orion Slides Face First at the Tacoma Zoo
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Easter Irony Category: Food and Restaurants
Easter IronyAlong the lines of 'believing one way, behaving another way' and 'what's the funniest thing about...' here's my Easter Irony.On KAOS that morning we listen to a nutritionist talking about curing common ailments by eliminating common bad diet choices. Cutting out my morning quad latte, adding lemon to water before meals, and chewing slowly could ease the aches and pains, depression, and gas I experience. It all makes sense, and it seems like a way I could transform my reality overnight! YAY!Well, Trish and I had split the morning quad, and I started to feel deprived. Craving another. I couldn't very well make myself another full quad. Could I? Certainly not DURING the program. It was like I didn't want him to hear ME. I didn't want to be so rude as to drown him out with steaming milk. [Soy milk, to be clear... which may be a culprit unto itself!] I didn't want to flaut his advice in front of Trish. She gets enough of my flaut-ulence already.When the next program came on and Trish was in the other room, I fired up that Krups like nobody's business. Maybe like Batdorf's business.Flash back a week or so ~ Trish buys a pound of coffee from the place near her office because she gets a 30% discount. I know that's gonna go quick, so we go to Costco. They've got a 3Lb bag of Fair Trade Organic for $9. That's like 66% off! We're good to go. Then I go to the Food Bank.Trish doesn't really approve of the Food Bank, so I don't tell her I'm going, and I pre-screen most of the stuff before I put it away. I make sure to get a bushel of Kale, a bushel of Broccoli, and a bunch of bakers instead of my pre-marriage M.O. of loading up on day-old cake. I also score two huge bags of coffee beans. It's maybe 4Lbs. For FREE!I guess I picked the wrong week to quit drinking coffee!Focusing on negatives just doesn't work. I don't start diets based on what I'm going to eliminate. The lemon juice thing I can do.Back to Easter though. We go to church and hear about various world traditions and Orion happens to find a plastic Easter egg in the playground that has a plastic whistle in it. There's no other kids around, so it's an even bigger magical surprise than the huge grab-fest we had planned to attend at Priest Point Park. We're never gonna make it to that one because it's lunch time and nap time on the near horizon.We go to the Farmer's market, and Orion runs around. We consider buying a blueberry bush for the yard. We feel a little too cold to eat outside, but all the vendors smell so good. We have some free salsa samples, and Trish buys some instant bean dip and salsa mix.Orion's poopy, so she changes him. Then we head off. Trish has been planning to go out to eat for weeks. Nothing I say can dissuade her. Shes craving a big salad. We need to hurry or well lose the boy. Hell doze off or get cranky before the food comes.Were heading off in a rush. She circles the block heading for Plenty! (Food and all that) but spots the Indian restaurant across the street. What do they offer 7 days a week?BUFFET! The ultimate temptation. We do not resist. It meets our need for speed. It meets our need for mostly wheat free. It meets our need for locally owned. It meets our need for exotic. It meets MY need for MEAT. It meets Trishs need for veggies.I really try to chew my food. I say, One more benefit of chewing and eating with my mouth closed is that without all that air taking up space I can fit more in! Then I tip my head back and put a piece of chapati bread half-way in. Its like a fuse!Orion is not as impressed with the dahl and rice and garbanzos as we would like, but he uses mostly good manners and eats lots of lentil chips until his eyes droop and Trish picks him up. He falls asleep in her arms in the busy restaurant. Trish has a second cup of Chai coming. I help her finish it.Its a lot like that guy was saying. He said that Americans stimulate themselves with caffeine and sugar and then sedate themselves with overeating. And repeat. Is there anything better after a huge buffet than a cup of Chai?When we arrive home we find that the Easter bunny has left another basket! Our friend, Sarah gave us some fresh eggs from the chickens at her house. Which brings me to the eggs.Its a similar scenario to the coffee, but not nearly as stimulating. Trish had bought a dozen eggs. On that same trip to the Food Bank I also returned with a dozen eggs. Then we get these fresh ones. We hadnt dyed any because Trish cant stand hard-boiled eggs, but with this huge abundance I just gotta make egg salad, so I hard-boil the dozen from the Food Bank. Orions not interested. Trish goes mental when she smells it and sees little egg bits in the sink. Ive got to eat all of it myself. A sandwich here, a dip there, a dollop in my soup.Now its Tuesday. We get our free raised bed gardens installed. Steve lends me a shovel to replace the one I broke while clearing blackberries. Then he offers to bring me a load of fresh eggs.Trish and I pick up Orion from childcare, and he promptly falls asleep. She starts talking about craving a frappucino. I offer to make her one at home. She insists on the drive-thru barrista, and adds a stamp to one of her frequent flier cards. $4. I say, Thats two days wages in Darfur. She replies, I dont live in Darfur. We split it.Tomorrow I sub at an elementary school a block away. Theyll be taking the WASL. Maybe Ill make a thermos full of lattes.For lunch? Egg salad sandwich, of course.
Easter IronyAlong the lines of 'believing one way, behaving another way' and 'what's the funniest thing about...' here's my Easter Irony.On KAOS that morning we listen to a nutritionist talking about curing common ailments by eliminating common bad diet choices. Cutting out my morning quad latte, adding lemon to water before meals, and chewing slowly could ease the aches and pains, depression, and gas I experience. It all makes sense, and it seems like a way I could transform my reality overnight! YAY!Well, Trish and I had split the morning quad, and I started to feel deprived. Craving another. I couldn't very well make myself another full quad. Could I? Certainly not DURING the program. It was like I didn't want him to hear ME. I didn't want to be so rude as to drown him out with steaming milk. [Soy milk, to be clear... which may be a culprit unto itself!] I didn't want to flaut his advice in front of Trish. She gets enough of my flaut-ulence already.When the next program came on and Trish was in the other room, I fired up that Krups like nobody's business. Maybe like Batdorf's business.Flash back a week or so ~ Trish buys a pound of coffee from the place near her office because she gets a 30% discount. I know that's gonna go quick, so we go to Costco. They've got a 3Lb bag of Fair Trade Organic for $9. That's like 66% off! We're good to go. Then I go to the Food Bank.Trish doesn't really approve of the Food Bank, so I don't tell her I'm going, and I pre-screen most of the stuff before I put it away. I make sure to get a bushel of Kale, a bushel of Broccoli, and a bunch of bakers instead of my pre-marriage M.O. of loading up on day-old cake. I also score two huge bags of coffee beans. It's maybe 4Lbs. For FREE!I guess I picked the wrong week to quit drinking coffee!Focusing on negatives just doesn't work. I don't start diets based on what I'm going to eliminate. The lemon juice thing I can do.Back to Easter though. We go to church and hear about various world traditions and Orion happens to find a plastic Easter egg in the playground that has a plastic whistle in it. There's no other kids around, so it's an even bigger magical surprise than the huge grab-fest we had planned to attend at Priest Point Park. We're never gonna make it to that one because it's lunch time and nap time on the near horizon.We go to the Farmer's market, and Orion runs around. We consider buying a blueberry bush for the yard. We feel a little too cold to eat outside, but all the vendors smell so good. We have some free salsa samples, and Trish buys some instant bean dip and salsa mix.Orion's poopy, so she changes him. Then we head off. Trish has been planning to go out to eat for weeks. Nothing I say can dissuade her. Shes craving a big salad. We need to hurry or well lose the boy. Hell doze off or get cranky before the food comes.Were heading off in a rush. She circles the block heading for Plenty! (Food and all that) but spots the Indian restaurant across the street. What do they offer 7 days a week?BUFFET! The ultimate temptation. We do not resist. It meets our need for speed. It meets our need for mostly wheat free. It meets our need for locally owned. It meets our need for exotic. It meets MY need for MEAT. It meets Trishs need for veggies.I really try to chew my food. I say, One more benefit of chewing and eating with my mouth closed is that without all that air taking up space I can fit more in! Then I tip my head back and put a piece of chapati bread half-way in. Its like a fuse!Orion is not as impressed with the dahl and rice and garbanzos as we would like, but he uses mostly good manners and eats lots of lentil chips until his eyes droop and Trish picks him up. He falls asleep in her arms in the busy restaurant. Trish has a second cup of Chai coming. I help her finish it.Its a lot like that guy was saying. He said that Americans stimulate themselves with caffeine and sugar and then sedate themselves with overeating. And repeat. Is there anything better after a huge buffet than a cup of Chai?When we arrive home we find that the Easter bunny has left another basket! Our friend, Sarah gave us some fresh eggs from the chickens at her house. Which brings me to the eggs.Its a similar scenario to the coffee, but not nearly as stimulating. Trish had bought a dozen eggs. On that same trip to the Food Bank I also returned with a dozen eggs. Then we get these fresh ones. We hadnt dyed any because Trish cant stand hard-boiled eggs, but with this huge abundance I just gotta make egg salad, so I hard-boil the dozen from the Food Bank. Orions not interested. Trish goes mental when she smells it and sees little egg bits in the sink. Ive got to eat all of it myself. A sandwich here, a dip there, a dollop in my soup.Now its Tuesday. We get our free raised bed gardens installed. Steve lends me a shovel to replace the one I broke while clearing blackberries. Then he offers to bring me a load of fresh eggs.Trish and I pick up Orion from childcare, and he promptly falls asleep. She starts talking about craving a frappucino. I offer to make her one at home. She insists on the drive-thru barrista, and adds a stamp to one of her frequent flier cards. $4. I say, Thats two days wages in Darfur. She replies, I dont live in Darfur. We split it.Tomorrow I sub at an elementary school a block away. Theyll be taking the WASL. Maybe Ill make a thermos full of lattes.For lunch? Egg salad sandwich, of course.
The Basket
Further Easter detailsI actually omitted the first Easter basket. Again, the Food Bank provided one. I chose a metal one and cleared out all the chocolate and caramel. A set of jacks was left in the Easter grass, so I substituted in a CAN OF PEACHES. How absurd, right? Maybe to anyone who has other Easter baskets against which to compare it, but Orion doesn't. So he was mighty pleased to eat that whole can by himself.Trish, of course, had to BUY a gift. She got him an expanding fabric tunnel. It calls to mind Pooh getting stuck leaving Rabbit's hole after EATING TOO MUCH! Nothing to do but wait until you get thinner, but we will read to you. 'Would you please choose a Sustaining Blog such as would help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?'
Further Easter detailsI actually omitted the first Easter basket. Again, the Food Bank provided one. I chose a metal one and cleared out all the chocolate and caramel. A set of jacks was left in the Easter grass, so I substituted in a CAN OF PEACHES. How absurd, right? Maybe to anyone who has other Easter baskets against which to compare it, but Orion doesn't. So he was mighty pleased to eat that whole can by himself.Trish, of course, had to BUY a gift. She got him an expanding fabric tunnel. It calls to mind Pooh getting stuck leaving Rabbit's hole after EATING TOO MUCH! Nothing to do but wait until you get thinner, but we will read to you. 'Would you please choose a Sustaining Blog such as would help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?'
Friday, April 21, 2006
Uber Booger
A strange side-effectThe night before last, I'm in charge of Orion's night-night ritual. Includes: bath, potty attempt, jammies, stories, last drink of water, etc.He's on his potty seat, and I blow my nose into some TP. As I blow I notice a booger bubble form. I expect that as usual it will pop almost as soon as I cease exhaling or perhaps as I pull the TP away from my nose.However, mysteriously, it does not. At arms' length I'm looking at the booger bubble resting on top of the TP. It's 3" across. It has a most unusual durability to it. Seconds are passing. It does not seem to be withering from even a small leak. The membrane looks PRETERNATURAL. I recall both Super Elastic Bubble Plastic from my childhood and Alien.I show it to Orion. He flinches. Good instinct, that. "No," he says, "I don't."I think about finding a clock or timer. More than a minute has gone by probably, but since my heart has been racing and I haven't been breathing normally I can't tell.I set the TP with booger bubble down on the edge of the sink. It stays the same but wobbles briefly."What have I been eating?" I ask rhetorically. The wheels turn and click audibly. "Egg salad," I answer myself."Daddy eat Egg salad," says Orion. Yup. Eggs are ALBUMINOUS. I have given birth to the UBER BUBBLE after a 3-day diet of egg salad and lattes.Then the front door opens, so Orion sprints out exclaiming, "There's Mommy!"I stand so I can see her but still keep an eye on the booger bubble."Do you want to see something really scary?" I ask, indicating with my eyes that it's in the bathroom.She's not sure if she does, knowing me."Okay, it's a booger, but you've got to be quick!" I tell her. Why torment her with her own imagination of possible scary bathroom objects or entities? Millipedes juggling bloody poops? Spiders giving bound flies golden showers?She looks. She's suitably astonished. I drop it in the toilet. It floats, of course."It was the egg salad," I tell her, like it was my plan all along.Now perhaps I will 'Go Mental' every time I smell egg salad.
Uber Booger
A strange side-effectThe night before last, I'm in charge of Orion's night-night ritual. Includes: bath, potty attempt, jammies, stories, last drink of water, etc.He's on his potty seat, and I blow my nose into some TP. As I blow I notice a booger bubble form. I expect that as usual it will pop almost as soon as I cease exhaling or perhaps as I pull the TP away from my nose.However, mysteriously, it does not. At arms' length I'm looking at the booger bubble resting on top of the TP. It's 3" across. It has a most unusual durability to it. Seconds are passing. It does not seem to be withering from even a small leak. The membrane looks PRETERNATURAL. I recall both Super Elastic Bubble Plastic from my childhood and Alien.I show it to Orion. He flinches. Good instinct, that. "No," he says, "I don't."I think about finding a clock or timer. More than a minute has gone by probably, but since my heart has been racing and I haven't been breathing normally I can't tell.I set the TP with booger bubble down on the edge of the sink. It stays the same but wobbles briefly."What have I been eating?" I ask rhetorically. The wheels turn and click audibly. "Egg salad," I answer myself."Daddy eat Egg salad," says Orion. Yup. Eggs are ALBUMINOUS. I have given birth to the UBER BUBBLE after a 3-day diet of egg salad and lattes.Then the front door opens, so Orion sprints out exclaiming, "There's Mommy!"I stand so I can see her but still keep an eye on the booger bubble."Do you want to see something really scary?" I ask, indicating with my eyes that it's in the bathroom.She's not sure if she does, knowing me."Okay, it's a booger, but you've got to be quick!" I tell her. Why torment her with her own imagination of possible scary bathroom objects or entities? Millipedes juggling bloody poops? Spiders giving bound flies golden showers?She looks. She's suitably astonished. I drop it in the toilet. It floats, of course."It was the egg salad," I tell her, like it was my plan all along.Now perhaps I will 'Go Mental' every time I smell egg salad.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Shower of sparks
When we first moved into the Elm st Duplex we didn't have a washer and dryer. The baby was only a month old or so, and we didn't have a diaper service either. Trish arranged to trade massage with Nat and Lisa of sound diaper service sometime thereafter. Nowadays, cloth diapers are kept on the baby with a 'wrap' instead of dangerous and akward diaper pins. The wrap is made of some kind of water resistant material and closes with velcro clasps. The idea being: reuse this wrap and change the diaper within. The reality being: the diaper leaks onto the wrap, so change them both. The service picks up the dirty diapers once a week and leaves us a bag of clean ones. They don't do wraps. They SELL wraps, however. They started this business before they became parents which has now recently changed. They quickly noticed that even with access to all the wraps and industrial washing machines they would run out. They have since vowed to their customers that they won't run out of wraps for sale.
What about us? We started with about a half a dozen wraps. It makes a very small load of laundry to wash only six wraps, but we usually try to keep them seperate from the rest of the clothes. If we wait until five are dirty, Orion may dirty the sixth during the spin cycle... or before they're dry... so then we have to use a disposable diaper.
Speaking about drying, let me get to the shower of sparks story. First, I need to mention Matt and Jess (Not to be confused with Nat and Lisa). Matt and Jess were members of our birth group. We all went through classes together because we all had similar due dates. Sometime after the births, they decided to move back East to be closer to family. We decided to move North to be back in civilization. We had been living outside of Elma in a log cabin (but that's another story). Point being: the Tumwater duplex was our new home, but it had no washer and dryer. Other point being: Matt and Jess owned a washer and dryer but weren't going to haul it all the way across the US.
Maybe she'll correct me, but I think Trish traded massages for the W/D. I know I convinced my pal, Steve, to bring his truck so we could get them. He has since sold that truck, so let's not get ourselves into any situations that require hauling large appliances.
Matt and Jess did say SOMETHING about the W/D behaving in some peculiar way or whatever. I must've been using selective listening. My concern was whether they worked AT ALL.
The dryer came with the metallic exhaust hose, and we borrowed some metallic tape from our neighbor to attach it. The dryer fits snugly between the washer and the vent to the outside. The 4" diameter hose has to make two ninety degree turns in 3' with less than an inch margin on any side. What we found out about this type of hose is that it crimps and kinks and generally behaves like it's made of aluminum foil.
One night, after running it constantly for two years we noticed a burning smell. We also noticed more condensation forming and clothes not getting quite as dry. Trish put a moratorium on the dryer. We tried using the clothesline during the sunny days, but around here there's fewer sunny days than wraps.
As our new floor project story was unfolding and wall painting project was under way I conscripted Philosobitch again to consult on the best replacement scenario. I had removed the hose and cleaned it. I had vacuumed behind the dryer - tons of dryer lint. I really didn't like the prospect of using the same set-up again. I kept refering to 'new space-age technology crimp-free hoses' that I imagined were out there. Sure enough, the kind Philosobitch remembered his step-dad using are more better than the aluminum foil kind. He recommends the vinyl kind. They're springy and have integrity, built with space-age moral fibers. He also recommends hose-clamps. What a concept! They're more better than tape!
By the time we purchase our supplies, Trish and Orion are in bed, so I figure that I'll just do it during the day and send Philosobitch home.
Here we come to the fireworks.
Saturday before the floor guy comes I'm watching Orion while Trish does a massage. I figure "No problem, all I need is a flat head screwdriver, and we'll be up and drying". I pull the dryer out from the wall to get behind it. I don't unplug it. I never have. I never thought to. I wasn't planning on dealing with any of the electrical parts. I thought I had enough slack to squeeze past. Not so.
ZZZT! POP! Sparks shower in a beautiful arc for us. It's an indoor fountain of fireworks. I see a tiny flame and a puff of smoke, but in an instant all is calm again. Except my racing heart. I think of the fire extinguishers in the house. The closest is in the back of the cupboard above the washer. The furthest is in the back of the child proofed cupboard below the sink. Ridiculous. Useless. Dangerously Negligent.
Now I get the bright idea to unplug the dryer. Yup, the cord is toasted.
When Trish comes home I play Good News/ Bad News. You know the bad news. The good news is that we're both okay. She takes one look and instantly says she's going to replace the whole thing. I've already put in a call to Philosobitch. I'm sure we (HE) can fix it.
True enough. These things are built to be replaced with a screwdriver (and wrench to get the panel off). $9.75 for a new cord. Also available for washers, refrigerators, and air conditions at Fred Meyer's.
The vinyl hose fits on like a glove. The Doctor kind, not the OJ kind. When hot air runs through it it flexes like a worm you pull out of the compost and put on the concrete.
Yay! Then we start in on the laundry backlog. First up: WRAPS!
Shower of sparks
When we first moved into the Elm st Duplex we didn't have a washer and dryer. The baby was only a month old or so, and we didn't have a diaper service either. Trish arranged to trade massage with Nat and Lisa of sound diaper service sometime thereafter. Nowadays, cloth diapers are kept on the baby with a 'wrap' instead of dangerous and akward diaper pins. The wrap is made of some kind of water resistant material and closes with velcro clasps. The idea being: reuse this wrap and change the diaper within. The reality being: the diaper leaks onto the wrap, so change them both. The service picks up the dirty diapers once a week and leaves us a bag of clean ones. They don't do wraps. They SELL wraps, however. They started this business before they became parents which has now recently changed. They quickly noticed that even with access to all the wraps and industrial washing machines they would run out. They have since vowed to their customers that they won't run out of wraps for sale.
What about us? We started with about a half a dozen wraps. It makes a very small load of laundry to wash only six wraps, but we usually try to keep them seperate from the rest of the clothes. If we wait until five are dirty, Orion may dirty the sixth during the spin cycle... or before they're dry... so then we have to use a disposable diaper.
Speaking about drying, let me get to the shower of sparks story. First, I need to mention Matt and Jess (Not to be confused with Nat and Lisa). Matt and Jess were members of our birth group. We all went through classes together because we all had similar due dates. Sometime after the births, they decided to move back East to be closer to family. We decided to move North to be back in civilization. We had been living outside of Elma in a log cabin (but that's another story). Point being: the Tumwater duplex was our new home, but it had no washer and dryer. Other point being: Matt and Jess owned a washer and dryer but weren't going to haul it all the way across the US.
Maybe she'll correct me, but I think Trish traded massages for the W/D. I know I convinced my pal, Steve, to bring his truck so we could get them. He has since sold that truck, so let's not get ourselves into any situations that require hauling large appliances.
Matt and Jess did say SOMETHING about the W/D behaving in some peculiar way or whatever. I must've been using selective listening. My concern was whether they worked AT ALL.
The dryer came with the metallic exhaust hose, and we borrowed some metallic tape from our neighbor to attach it. The dryer fits snugly between the washer and the vent to the outside. The 4" diameter hose has to make two ninety degree turns in 3' with less than an inch margin on any side. What we found out about this type of hose is that it crimps and kinks and generally behaves like it's made of aluminum foil.
One night, after running it constantly for two years we noticed a burning smell. We also noticed more condensation forming and clothes not getting quite as dry. Trish put a moratorium on the dryer. We tried using the clothesline during the sunny days, but around here there's fewer sunny days than wraps.
As our new floor project story was unfolding and wall painting project was under way I conscripted Philosobitch again to consult on the best replacement scenario. I had removed the hose and cleaned it. I had vacuumed behind the dryer - tons of dryer lint. I really didn't like the prospect of using the same set-up again. I kept refering to 'new space-age technology crimp-free hoses' that I imagined were out there. Sure enough, the kind Philosobitch remembered his step-dad using are more better than the aluminum foil kind. He recommends the vinyl kind. They're springy and have integrity, built with space-age moral fibers. He also recommends hose-clamps. What a concept! They're more better than tape!
By the time we purchase our supplies, Trish and Orion are in bed, so I figure that I'll just do it during the day and send Philosobitch home.
Here we come to the fireworks.
Saturday before the floor guy comes I'm watching Orion while Trish does a massage. I figure "No problem, all I need is a flat head screwdriver, and we'll be up and drying". I pull the dryer out from the wall to get behind it. I don't unplug it. I never have. I never thought to. I wasn't planning on dealing with any of the electrical parts. I thought I had enough slack to squeeze past. Not so.
ZZZT! POP! Sparks shower in a beautiful arc for us. It's an indoor fountain of fireworks. I see a tiny flame and a puff of smoke, but in an instant all is calm again. Except my racing heart. I think of the fire extinguishers in the house. The closest is in the back of the cupboard above the washer. The furthest is in the back of the child proofed cupboard below the sink. Ridiculous. Useless. Dangerously Negligent.
Now I get the bright idea to unplug the dryer. Yup, the cord is toasted.
When Trish comes home I play Good News/ Bad News. You know the bad news. The good news is that we're both okay. She takes one look and instantly says she's going to replace the whole thing. I've already put in a call to Philosobitch. I'm sure we (HE) can fix it.
True enough. These things are built to be replaced with a screwdriver (and wrench to get the panel off). $9.75 for a new cord. Also available for washers, refrigerators, and air conditions at Fred Meyer's.
The vinyl hose fits on like a glove. The Doctor kind, not the OJ kind. When hot air runs through it it flexes like a worm you pull out of the compost and put on the concrete.
Yay! Then we start in on the laundry backlog. First up: WRAPS!
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Dress Up Day Category: Parties and Nightlife
Yesterday we had three main events: redo the floors, attend Corbyn's 3rd birthday (Costume theme), and go to the St. Martin's Luau (since many of Trish's chair massage clients are part of the Hawaiian club).
The saga of the floors goes back about a year, I think. Trish REALLY wanted to remove the carpet and have laminate wood put in. She argued that the carpet was trapping mold and dust. I argued that it was helping to trap HEAT and sound. She negotiated with our landlord and made a tentative plan to get it done and deducted from our rent. Then he changed his mind and decided he would do it himself. Trish volunteered to help so she could learn. Since this was mainly her project my role was to be childcare: keep Orion out of harms way. We initially discussed doing both the living room and office but fortunately decided to do them on separate occasions.
We settled on the date over a month ago, and landlord Jeff confirmed by phone early yesterday morning. We had moved most of the furniture together, but as Trish had a morning massage I was left with the futon couch (to go in the dining room), the dining room set (to go outside), and the media center (to go in the dining room). I was also in charge of Orion care.
Orion has been making progress learning to use the potty. Since the weather was so warm I let him run around naked. If he says, "I need a new diaper" I offer to let him sit on the potty first.
All morning, no poop. We're getting psyched up for the party by wearing our construction helmets. Naked construction worker ~ make a good calendar.
Landlord Jeff arrives. He's wearing full fatigues and army boots. I resist the urge to salute. I resist the urge to shake his hand, cautious of his kung-fu grip, GI Jeff. I resist the urge to flash him the peace sign. Orion simply flashes him.
Trish says, "I didn't know you were in the reserves." GI Jeff says, "Oh, yeah, for a long time now." We usually think of him as a substitute teacher up North. Somehow he doesn't seem out of place, and I just figure that he's gonna be approaching our floor with military intelligence and a martial plan. It's supposed to get done this afternoon. He's our Army of One. It's dress-up day, why not?
GI Jeff starts measuring. He's brought a 10' tape measure. He's doing mental addition. I offer my 25-footer. Yay, Jusby! The room is only about 11' x 17'. Things might have gone much worse if we'd left them completely to military intelligence.
I switch to Orion-mode. I get him dressed and we head off to the playground as Trish and Jeff head to buy the flooring at Costco.
Orion's practicing pedaling his tricycle. I'm practicing with my double-axeled clown bike (courtesy the Evergreen bike shop). We get fascinated with the skateboarding dudes. We go on all the big toys. We start to head home. On previous trips, Orion had pooped and continued to ride. Ewww. That makes for an Owie-butt. Today he just gets tired of riding, so again I'm portaging his tricycle on the handlebars of my clown bike while he walks the last 3 blocks. Then he starts whining, "Hold you, Daddy." It means he wants to be carried. I don't have that many hands. He wants raisins too and water. We push on.
We arrive safely home, and the back of GI Jeff's truck is full of our old carpet. They're going over the procedure about installing. Orion's ready for a nap. It's about 1pm. The party starts at 2pm. Either we cut our nap short or we arrive late. Plus we're risking no nap at all with the construction noise. I turn on the air purifier and lullaby CD. He falls asleep, and I don't notice any hammering at all. Then I doze off.
Trish comes in and beckons me out. Wow! That was fast and quiet! I follow, not noticing the stack of unopened flooring. We're in the living room. I see collateral damage all over. There's a hammer, a drill, a skill saw, a broom, and a crowbar. There are chunks of the old batting still stuck to the floor. There's up pointing nails and staples all over. It's like the land the landlord forgot.
I'm not sure what she's showing me. Where's Jeff? He's been 'Called Up'. When did this happen? Trish has known since Costco, but they tore up the floor anyway. Okay, it's not a coincidence that he arrives dressed for war and then creates a war zone in his wake. I start to get very ANGRY! The floor won't be done for a week!? Trish has called a professional for a consultation that she will then negotiate off the rent. GI Jeff's last words were something along the lines of "Follow the directions on the box."
Trish wants to point out the positive synchronistic opportunity we now have. She says that now we can paint those accent walls like I wanted. Indeed, I had mentioned painting before the new floors went in.
Orion wakes up. He still hasn't pooped. He promptly falls into an open heat vent and twists his ankle. I almost 'Go Mental', but quickly get him an ice pack. Trish checks it carefully for swelling, lacerations, contusions, fractures, etc. He can still walk fine. Okay, we get dressed and leave mom to pull staples.
We're off to the party. There's only an hour left. We arrive, and there are big and little people everywhere dressed up and playing. We give Corbyn the present Trish picked out: a Chef's costume. He barely notices. Guests and treats overwhelm him. Orion gets the last slice of wheat-free cake with a strawberry on top. He promptly drops it. "One, two, three, four, five," I count as I scoop it up off the ground. Mmm. He loves it. Corbyn also gets a new bike that he barely notices. Orion, however, notices it, and tries to ride with marginal success. There's also a plastic tricycle he rides.
Then I get a whiff. I take a peek. The little stinker saved it up until now. I'd wisely put him in a disposable. I change him in the bedroom. There's a mom there with a baby girl. She gives Orion some encouragement about using the potty. She says, "It takes less time to use the potty, and you have more time to play."
They have a chicken pen at Corbyn's house, and Orion gets in and chasing them. He shouts, "Bad guy!" and points at them like he's shooting. Oh, dear. He's been doing that to Buck and to Blue. I don't know where it came from.
We see Finn from day care, and in a struggle over a toy school bus, Orion accidentally beans him in the face with it. Finn cries, and his mom holds him. Orion doesn't seem interested in showing compassion and making him feel better. He's overstimulated and would just as soon move on to a Thomas Train. At 5 we bail.
Trish has mostly cleared the pokies from the floor. Orion starts to act like he wants another nap. I fully support that sentiment, or maybe it's the other way around, but we both lay down and look at books while Trish gets gussied up. Then I put on my Blue Hawaiian shirt and Blue Fijian sarong (over bicycle shorts, can't be too careful). I top it off with my orange camouflage bandana. Then I whip us up a couple of frappucinos. I'm getting hungry for LUAU food.
We arrive at the St. Martin's Pavilion around 7. Trish sees a client who hooks her up with 2Lbs of Kona coffee. Good thing too, we're down to about 7Lbs in the freezer. It's festive. People in Leis. Live ukelele music. We find our table and get in line for food. Theyve got lomi-lomi salmon, macaroni salad, shredded pork, teriyaki chicken, beef ribs, and white rice. For desert: cake and coconut jello. Orion wont eat a bite of it. Well, he does want the cake. We try to get him to have some protein, and were willing to risk a wheat reaction if he will, but he just recoils in disgust at every offer. Trish lets him have some bug juice, and the next thing I know hes running off. Im in hot pursuit. He wants to go upstairs. We start doing laps and getting a head of steam going. We jump off steps for a while. Then laps again. He circles the entire pavilion about three times. I feel a little gross running on a full stomach. We catch some of the dancing as we go around and around. Pretty soon, hes sweaty and sort of tired. Downstairs again he has a few sprints left in him. By 8:30 were both ready to leave. Trish wants one of the pineapple centerpieces. Shes sure theyre meant as gifts. She left the coffee at our table, so I fetch it and grab a pineapple too. She also stops to pick a bouquet of exotic flowers from giant buckets near the door.
All this island culture makes me nostalgic for Indonesia. I miss Opa & Oma and the summers with the Indo cousins. I want a bowl of Bakmi Goreng (Fried Noodles) with Sambal (red chili paste) and Krupuks (shrimp crackers), Gamelan on the stereo, followed by a cup of Java and a Kretek (clove cigarette).
I think weve decided to paint the walls "Sunny Side Up" with an accent of "Stella dOro".
Dress Up Day Category: Parties and Nightlife
Yesterday we had three main events: redo the floors, attend Corbyn's 3rd birthday (Costume theme), and go to the St. Martin's Luau (since many of Trish's chair massage clients are part of the Hawaiian club).
The saga of the floors goes back about a year, I think. Trish REALLY wanted to remove the carpet and have laminate wood put in. She argued that the carpet was trapping mold and dust. I argued that it was helping to trap HEAT and sound. She negotiated with our landlord and made a tentative plan to get it done and deducted from our rent. Then he changed his mind and decided he would do it himself. Trish volunteered to help so she could learn. Since this was mainly her project my role was to be childcare: keep Orion out of harms way. We initially discussed doing both the living room and office but fortunately decided to do them on separate occasions.
We settled on the date over a month ago, and landlord Jeff confirmed by phone early yesterday morning. We had moved most of the furniture together, but as Trish had a morning massage I was left with the futon couch (to go in the dining room), the dining room set (to go outside), and the media center (to go in the dining room). I was also in charge of Orion care.
Orion has been making progress learning to use the potty. Since the weather was so warm I let him run around naked. If he says, "I need a new diaper" I offer to let him sit on the potty first.
All morning, no poop. We're getting psyched up for the party by wearing our construction helmets. Naked construction worker ~ make a good calendar.
Landlord Jeff arrives. He's wearing full fatigues and army boots. I resist the urge to salute. I resist the urge to shake his hand, cautious of his kung-fu grip, GI Jeff. I resist the urge to flash him the peace sign. Orion simply flashes him.
Trish says, "I didn't know you were in the reserves." GI Jeff says, "Oh, yeah, for a long time now." We usually think of him as a substitute teacher up North. Somehow he doesn't seem out of place, and I just figure that he's gonna be approaching our floor with military intelligence and a martial plan. It's supposed to get done this afternoon. He's our Army of One. It's dress-up day, why not?
GI Jeff starts measuring. He's brought a 10' tape measure. He's doing mental addition. I offer my 25-footer. Yay, Jusby! The room is only about 11' x 17'. Things might have gone much worse if we'd left them completely to military intelligence.
I switch to Orion-mode. I get him dressed and we head off to the playground as Trish and Jeff head to buy the flooring at Costco.
Orion's practicing pedaling his tricycle. I'm practicing with my double-axeled clown bike (courtesy the Evergreen bike shop). We get fascinated with the skateboarding dudes. We go on all the big toys. We start to head home. On previous trips, Orion had pooped and continued to ride. Ewww. That makes for an Owie-butt. Today he just gets tired of riding, so again I'm portaging his tricycle on the handlebars of my clown bike while he walks the last 3 blocks. Then he starts whining, "Hold you, Daddy." It means he wants to be carried. I don't have that many hands. He wants raisins too and water. We push on.
We arrive safely home, and the back of GI Jeff's truck is full of our old carpet. They're going over the procedure about installing. Orion's ready for a nap. It's about 1pm. The party starts at 2pm. Either we cut our nap short or we arrive late. Plus we're risking no nap at all with the construction noise. I turn on the air purifier and lullaby CD. He falls asleep, and I don't notice any hammering at all. Then I doze off.
Trish comes in and beckons me out. Wow! That was fast and quiet! I follow, not noticing the stack of unopened flooring. We're in the living room. I see collateral damage all over. There's a hammer, a drill, a skill saw, a broom, and a crowbar. There are chunks of the old batting still stuck to the floor. There's up pointing nails and staples all over. It's like the land the landlord forgot.
I'm not sure what she's showing me. Where's Jeff? He's been 'Called Up'. When did this happen? Trish has known since Costco, but they tore up the floor anyway. Okay, it's not a coincidence that he arrives dressed for war and then creates a war zone in his wake. I start to get very ANGRY! The floor won't be done for a week!? Trish has called a professional for a consultation that she will then negotiate off the rent. GI Jeff's last words were something along the lines of "Follow the directions on the box."
Trish wants to point out the positive synchronistic opportunity we now have. She says that now we can paint those accent walls like I wanted. Indeed, I had mentioned painting before the new floors went in.
Orion wakes up. He still hasn't pooped. He promptly falls into an open heat vent and twists his ankle. I almost 'Go Mental', but quickly get him an ice pack. Trish checks it carefully for swelling, lacerations, contusions, fractures, etc. He can still walk fine. Okay, we get dressed and leave mom to pull staples.
We're off to the party. There's only an hour left. We arrive, and there are big and little people everywhere dressed up and playing. We give Corbyn the present Trish picked out: a Chef's costume. He barely notices. Guests and treats overwhelm him. Orion gets the last slice of wheat-free cake with a strawberry on top. He promptly drops it. "One, two, three, four, five," I count as I scoop it up off the ground. Mmm. He loves it. Corbyn also gets a new bike that he barely notices. Orion, however, notices it, and tries to ride with marginal success. There's also a plastic tricycle he rides.
Then I get a whiff. I take a peek. The little stinker saved it up until now. I'd wisely put him in a disposable. I change him in the bedroom. There's a mom there with a baby girl. She gives Orion some encouragement about using the potty. She says, "It takes less time to use the potty, and you have more time to play."
They have a chicken pen at Corbyn's house, and Orion gets in and chasing them. He shouts, "Bad guy!" and points at them like he's shooting. Oh, dear. He's been doing that to Buck and to Blue. I don't know where it came from.
We see Finn from day care, and in a struggle over a toy school bus, Orion accidentally beans him in the face with it. Finn cries, and his mom holds him. Orion doesn't seem interested in showing compassion and making him feel better. He's overstimulated and would just as soon move on to a Thomas Train. At 5 we bail.
Trish has mostly cleared the pokies from the floor. Orion starts to act like he wants another nap. I fully support that sentiment, or maybe it's the other way around, but we both lay down and look at books while Trish gets gussied up. Then I put on my Blue Hawaiian shirt and Blue Fijian sarong (over bicycle shorts, can't be too careful). I top it off with my orange camouflage bandana. Then I whip us up a couple of frappucinos. I'm getting hungry for LUAU food.
We arrive at the St. Martin's Pavilion around 7. Trish sees a client who hooks her up with 2Lbs of Kona coffee. Good thing too, we're down to about 7Lbs in the freezer. It's festive. People in Leis. Live ukelele music. We find our table and get in line for food. Theyve got lomi-lomi salmon, macaroni salad, shredded pork, teriyaki chicken, beef ribs, and white rice. For desert: cake and coconut jello. Orion wont eat a bite of it. Well, he does want the cake. We try to get him to have some protein, and were willing to risk a wheat reaction if he will, but he just recoils in disgust at every offer. Trish lets him have some bug juice, and the next thing I know hes running off. Im in hot pursuit. He wants to go upstairs. We start doing laps and getting a head of steam going. We jump off steps for a while. Then laps again. He circles the entire pavilion about three times. I feel a little gross running on a full stomach. We catch some of the dancing as we go around and around. Pretty soon, hes sweaty and sort of tired. Downstairs again he has a few sprints left in him. By 8:30 were both ready to leave. Trish wants one of the pineapple centerpieces. Shes sure theyre meant as gifts. She left the coffee at our table, so I fetch it and grab a pineapple too. She also stops to pick a bouquet of exotic flowers from giant buckets near the door.
All this island culture makes me nostalgic for Indonesia. I miss Opa & Oma and the summers with the Indo cousins. I want a bowl of Bakmi Goreng (Fried Noodles) with Sambal (red chili paste) and Krupuks (shrimp crackers), Gamelan on the stereo, followed by a cup of Java and a Kretek (clove cigarette).
I think weve decided to paint the walls "Sunny Side Up" with an accent of "Stella dOro".
Another set of slip-ups happened Saturday morning. They were both diaper related. They were both oversights and underpacks.
We went to Orion's swim lesson at the Y Saturday morning. Even though I was up earlier than the rest of the family I did a poor job of making sure we got to the Y on time and fully prepared. In the changing room I noticed he had peed on the way. I put him in his swim diaper, and we joined the others in the pool. Afterwards I noticed that I hadn't brung any spare clean diapers except another swim diaper (which are more expensive than your average walking around diaper). What could I do? When we were at Head Start for my performance he had to ride home bare bottomed, but we were already in the parking lot when we discovered a poopy with no clean diapers. On this occasion I decided to us the flip and fold technique wherein a peepee diaper is reused for the short trip home.
At home I quickly get him in a freshy and put together some supplies for our next adventure: Calder's Baseball Game. Our pal, Calder, a first grader, has recently joined a team, and we get a kick out of watching him play. With baseball, however, the plays are short and fast, and often involving everyone besides our pal. It gets frustrating and boring, and Orion gets cranky when he remembers this.
You might think I would've learned after the experence at the Y. In fact, I did pack THREE diapers. However, I did not pack ANY wraps or plastic bags. When Orion poops we find this out in the portapotty. The wrap is basically salvagable for a second run. I'm asking, "Why Me?" Orion's thinking, "Daddy Clown".
A few innings later, Orion has decided to start running sprints. He's happy again. Then he sits quietly for a while. He has pooped again. There's no way we're staying, and I hate to put him in a car seat like that, but again it's only a mile to our house.
At home I throw him in the shower. Later that evening he poops while we're at the coop. They don't have everything we need, so we stop at the Ralph's Thriftway. He poops again. Trish handles both of these. She thinks it's all the broccoli and cauliflower he had at day care. I think it's the self-replicating machine elves working for the cosmic giggle.
We went to Orion's swim lesson at the Y Saturday morning. Even though I was up earlier than the rest of the family I did a poor job of making sure we got to the Y on time and fully prepared. In the changing room I noticed he had peed on the way. I put him in his swim diaper, and we joined the others in the pool. Afterwards I noticed that I hadn't brung any spare clean diapers except another swim diaper (which are more expensive than your average walking around diaper). What could I do? When we were at Head Start for my performance he had to ride home bare bottomed, but we were already in the parking lot when we discovered a poopy with no clean diapers. On this occasion I decided to us the flip and fold technique wherein a peepee diaper is reused for the short trip home.
At home I quickly get him in a freshy and put together some supplies for our next adventure: Calder's Baseball Game. Our pal, Calder, a first grader, has recently joined a team, and we get a kick out of watching him play. With baseball, however, the plays are short and fast, and often involving everyone besides our pal. It gets frustrating and boring, and Orion gets cranky when he remembers this.
You might think I would've learned after the experence at the Y. In fact, I did pack THREE diapers. However, I did not pack ANY wraps or plastic bags. When Orion poops we find this out in the portapotty. The wrap is basically salvagable for a second run. I'm asking, "Why Me?" Orion's thinking, "Daddy Clown".
A few innings later, Orion has decided to start running sprints. He's happy again. Then he sits quietly for a while. He has pooped again. There's no way we're staying, and I hate to put him in a car seat like that, but again it's only a mile to our house.
At home I throw him in the shower. Later that evening he poops while we're at the coop. They don't have everything we need, so we stop at the Ralph's Thriftway. He poops again. Trish handles both of these. She thinks it's all the broccoli and cauliflower he had at day care. I think it's the self-replicating machine elves working for the cosmic giggle.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Mother's Day part 1 - The Visit to Oma's
I brought my whole clown outfit down to Oma's. It was going to be a surprise for her and brother Nick. His 16th birthday was Monday.
Flash back~ Oma came up for Orion's dedication, but she fell asleep ON HER PHONE the night before, so she arrived early Sunday and saw the nearly finished floor.It wasn't QUITE done by the time we returned from church, but she got to see it finished and helped with restoring the work zone into a living room.Then late ~ 8 ish, she drove back to Portland (West Linn).That was 3 weeks prior. Uncle Nick and Bibi Betsy hadn't seen Orion for months. Nor he them.
~Saturday before Mother's Day we get a late start. Trish squeezes appointments in. Orion squeezes a nap in. He stays awake all the way down. We stop at a Taco Bell.
TWO people in line ahead of us demand refunds. Our order isn't correct either. Orion poops. They don't have a changing table in the bathroom.
Trish changes him on the grass in front. Right by the drive-through. Right by the intersection. Right by the mall. Right by the hiway. That boy is OVEREXPOSED. He has market saturation.
We keep making stops. We cross the street to the Target. We're looking for a mother's day plant. Oma mentioned a 2" or 4" plant to go in the kitchen. This Target has NO plants."They kept dying," an employee tells us. I wish we had stopped at the Olympia Target and picked up some bamboo.
We get back on the highway and find a Home Depot. It's 8PM. I see a sign that says: Registers open 8 -8, so I let her out and find a parking spot.
Buck has to poop, and Orion is poopy again! Afterwards, we go and find Trish with two huge plants. She's picked a 6" indoor one for Oma and a 6" outdoor one for Grama Jill/ Great-Grama Olga - who aren't technically related to us, but we spend time with because Grampa Joe used to be Jusby's step-dad. I thought I was looking for a 2" plant for $3. Instead I'm getting 12" of plants (and pots) for $30. I guess I love my mothers 10 times as much as I thought.
Finally in West Linn right at sunset, and I hurry Trish out of the car to admire the handiwork I had done on the lawn during my last visit. She's suitably impressed. Callas Lillies are blooming. The cilantro has come up. Tulips are up. The lavendar is still thar.
Inside she asks to see 'the infrastructure' I kept talking about. I had told her that things could not get as bad as they were because I'd built new infrastructure. Basically that meant adding two Costco wire shelving units in the garage and removing a set of wooden shelves in the pantry. It's all still there, but so are the huge quantities of boxed up miscellanea.
Then we go to bed. In the morning I figure that I want to change the clowning plan. Trish's concept involved us down at the Saturday market. I perform in front of hundreds of strangers milling around the stalls. I tried to figure a way to arrive in a seperate car and stall enough to get on the makeup.
Two monkey wrenchs ~ Bibi Betsy can't guarantee when she'll be back from her party near Mt Hood. Jusby's not so sure he wants to perform this unprepared. He conveniently left his balloons in Olympia by accident. He did bring his flipping fans tho. It's a puzzle what to do, until he figures that he's got to deliver the pseudo mother's day plant to Grama Jill and Great Grama Olga... where Uncle Nick happens to be spending the night.
He's due at 10AM, but Jusby will arrive before then! Jusby is putting on makeup, and a little voice says "Call ahead to prepare Grampa Joe", but he tells the voice "Naaaah. I don't need to do that!"We drive over to pick Nick up and deliver the pseudo mother's day plant, and no one answers the door.
Trish calls Grama Jill on the cel phone. They're headed to the coast, but Uncle Nick IS inside. He's taking a shower. They don't expect him to answer for 20 minutes. We should go run some errands.
Jusby WILL perform in public somehow. He will go take back some recycling and buy some bruncheon supplies at the not-Zupan's. It was Zupans for 20 years, but now it is a Bale's Thriftway. Oma can't move on. I like the sound of the not-Zupan's myself.
In the not-Zupan's Jusby amuses some of the shoppers and some of the staff, but it's very casual. Best gag: pointing out clown on ice cream cone package and saying "Dad!" Second best gag: asking Baker if they had PIE and indicating he would throw it.
After shopping we pick up Nick. Uncle Nick is almost 16. He has a full head of shoulder-length hair. He's getting close to 6 feet tall. A lot of things could be keeping him in the shower for 20 minutes while his parents drive to the beach.
A person could tend to get pretty relaxed after a shower like that. Nick's usually pretty relaxed to start with, so it's understandable that his demeanor would be mellow on finding his big brother dressed as a clown at his door on mother's day.
I've got the pseudo mother's day plant with me. "This is for the lady of the house. Are you the lady of the house?" I ask.
A micro-chuckle. "-I-can give it to her_?" he says with an underscore and question mark. Tough crowd.
Later I tell him that I heard he was getting a used lap-top from Oma, and that I was planning to get him a used lap dance... since he's 16 and all.
Eventually, I decide to take the costume off since it's getting hot, uncomfortable, and potentially dirty. However, I encourage uncle Nick to take some pictures first, and he gets a handful of really great ones, but he can't figure out how I'll be able to get them unless he e-mails them to me.
We stick around until it's late. We never get to the Saturday Market (Now on Sundays too), but we work together as siblings and clean the grill cuz daddy really wants a cheeseburger and not necessarily from Burgerville.-next... the side effects of a cheeseburger at oma's
I brought my whole clown outfit down to Oma's. It was going to be a surprise for her and brother Nick. His 16th birthday was Monday.
Flash back~ Oma came up for Orion's dedication, but she fell asleep ON HER PHONE the night before, so she arrived early Sunday and saw the nearly finished floor.It wasn't QUITE done by the time we returned from church, but she got to see it finished and helped with restoring the work zone into a living room.Then late ~ 8 ish, she drove back to Portland (West Linn).That was 3 weeks prior. Uncle Nick and Bibi Betsy hadn't seen Orion for months. Nor he them.
~Saturday before Mother's Day we get a late start. Trish squeezes appointments in. Orion squeezes a nap in. He stays awake all the way down. We stop at a Taco Bell.
TWO people in line ahead of us demand refunds. Our order isn't correct either. Orion poops. They don't have a changing table in the bathroom.
Trish changes him on the grass in front. Right by the drive-through. Right by the intersection. Right by the mall. Right by the hiway. That boy is OVEREXPOSED. He has market saturation.
We keep making stops. We cross the street to the Target. We're looking for a mother's day plant. Oma mentioned a 2" or 4" plant to go in the kitchen. This Target has NO plants."They kept dying," an employee tells us. I wish we had stopped at the Olympia Target and picked up some bamboo.
We get back on the highway and find a Home Depot. It's 8PM. I see a sign that says: Registers open 8 -8, so I let her out and find a parking spot.
Buck has to poop, and Orion is poopy again! Afterwards, we go and find Trish with two huge plants. She's picked a 6" indoor one for Oma and a 6" outdoor one for Grama Jill/ Great-Grama Olga - who aren't technically related to us, but we spend time with because Grampa Joe used to be Jusby's step-dad. I thought I was looking for a 2" plant for $3. Instead I'm getting 12" of plants (and pots) for $30. I guess I love my mothers 10 times as much as I thought.
Finally in West Linn right at sunset, and I hurry Trish out of the car to admire the handiwork I had done on the lawn during my last visit. She's suitably impressed. Callas Lillies are blooming. The cilantro has come up. Tulips are up. The lavendar is still thar.
Inside she asks to see 'the infrastructure' I kept talking about. I had told her that things could not get as bad as they were because I'd built new infrastructure. Basically that meant adding two Costco wire shelving units in the garage and removing a set of wooden shelves in the pantry. It's all still there, but so are the huge quantities of boxed up miscellanea.
Then we go to bed. In the morning I figure that I want to change the clowning plan. Trish's concept involved us down at the Saturday market. I perform in front of hundreds of strangers milling around the stalls. I tried to figure a way to arrive in a seperate car and stall enough to get on the makeup.
Two monkey wrenchs ~ Bibi Betsy can't guarantee when she'll be back from her party near Mt Hood. Jusby's not so sure he wants to perform this unprepared. He conveniently left his balloons in Olympia by accident. He did bring his flipping fans tho. It's a puzzle what to do, until he figures that he's got to deliver the pseudo mother's day plant to Grama Jill and Great Grama Olga... where Uncle Nick happens to be spending the night.
He's due at 10AM, but Jusby will arrive before then! Jusby is putting on makeup, and a little voice says "Call ahead to prepare Grampa Joe", but he tells the voice "Naaaah. I don't need to do that!"We drive over to pick Nick up and deliver the pseudo mother's day plant, and no one answers the door.
Trish calls Grama Jill on the cel phone. They're headed to the coast, but Uncle Nick IS inside. He's taking a shower. They don't expect him to answer for 20 minutes. We should go run some errands.
Jusby WILL perform in public somehow. He will go take back some recycling and buy some bruncheon supplies at the not-Zupan's. It was Zupans for 20 years, but now it is a Bale's Thriftway. Oma can't move on. I like the sound of the not-Zupan's myself.
In the not-Zupan's Jusby amuses some of the shoppers and some of the staff, but it's very casual. Best gag: pointing out clown on ice cream cone package and saying "Dad!" Second best gag: asking Baker if they had PIE and indicating he would throw it.
After shopping we pick up Nick. Uncle Nick is almost 16. He has a full head of shoulder-length hair. He's getting close to 6 feet tall. A lot of things could be keeping him in the shower for 20 minutes while his parents drive to the beach.
A person could tend to get pretty relaxed after a shower like that. Nick's usually pretty relaxed to start with, so it's understandable that his demeanor would be mellow on finding his big brother dressed as a clown at his door on mother's day.
I've got the pseudo mother's day plant with me. "This is for the lady of the house. Are you the lady of the house?" I ask.
A micro-chuckle. "-I-can give it to her_?" he says with an underscore and question mark. Tough crowd.
Later I tell him that I heard he was getting a used lap-top from Oma, and that I was planning to get him a used lap dance... since he's 16 and all.
Eventually, I decide to take the costume off since it's getting hot, uncomfortable, and potentially dirty. However, I encourage uncle Nick to take some pictures first, and he gets a handful of really great ones, but he can't figure out how I'll be able to get them unless he e-mails them to me.
We stick around until it's late. We never get to the Saturday Market (Now on Sundays too), but we work together as siblings and clean the grill cuz daddy really wants a cheeseburger and not necessarily from Burgerville.-next... the side effects of a cheeseburger at oma's
Mother's Day Part 2 - The HospitalizationGoing backwards now>Mother's Day - We're driving back from West Linn, Oregon at 9PM and expecting Orion to fall blissfully asleep and stay that way until morning. Trish is scheduled to do massages. I'm scheduled to sub at a school. Orion is scheduled to go to day care and play with his friends.He wakes up coughing. He starts whining and crying and coughing. There's construction that channels I-5 down to one Northbound lane. It adds almost an hour to the trip it seems.When we arrive home we figure that he'll be able to rest. He'll get some medicine. He'll get the vaporizer. We'll get to sleep.Instead he keeps coughing and crying. I doze off. Trish goes into hyper-mom mode. She steams him in the bathroom with the shower running. She gives him an albuterol breathing treatment with his nebulizer. She asks ME to call the doctor.I never like to call the doctor. Plus, when I've dozed off I'm not up to speed on the situation, but I offer to hold him, and he seems to calm down. The doctor recommends another treatment, and if he's not better in a half an hour BRING HIM TO THE HOSPITAL.After about 20 minutes she's convinced that it's not normal and we should go. I don't jump up enthusiastically, and it starts to develop into a tense situation. She's worried. I'm grumpy. Orion's breathing hard. We go to the Emergency Room at 2AM.I let her tell the sequence of events to the dozen staff members who trade off listening to his lungs and her telling the sequence of events. There are three factors that keep coming up, and I'm responsible for the majority of them.1) Oma's house has a cat & other stuffy mysterious dusts & molds (probably)2) Jusby convinced everyone to clean out and use the Weber BBQ for the first time in years, hence exposure to charcoal smoke and burning cow flesh3) Jusby let Orion eat a piece of American cheese straight out of its plastic envelopeI work really hard not to accept that I may have contributed to a negative situation, but I also hear the doctors talk about the possibility of a virus, and I know I didn't have anything to do with that... unless it was something I picked up as a sub. Which seems like another convenient way to beat myself up for being a bad dad who can't get a real job somewhere that's virus free.By 6AM he's been drugged to sleep admitted for a long stay. I have to get home and cancel our appointments. I leave a message at Trish's work. I log on and cancel my sub job. Then I go to sleep. Without notifying Orion's day care. Oops.Orion has an elevated crib with adjustable metal sides. It's just barely big enough for Trish to lay in with him.Around noonish I'm heading back to the hospital with a whole mess of supplies, and I've put on my red nose, green scrubs, and white lab coat - with my old St. Pete's ID badge. I've got a horn in the pocket that I squeeze periodically. In a rolling backpack I'm hauling a CD player, food & drink, clothes, books, and toys... with two pillows strapped on top.He was hospitalized once before. This time is worse because his will and muscles are stronger. When he doesn't want to submit to a course of treatment it now takes multiple adults to force him. Luckily, Mom's will is stronger now too. After two unsuccessful attempts to get an IV in his vein she talks the staff out of it.The ongoing struggle is keeping the oxygen tube up his nose and the monitor on his finger or toe. The hospital now has optional premium channels and internet for $8/day. Or you get about 8 channels total. However, they do have a fancy VHS & TV cart they will wheel in. It also has Playstation (or something. we never did get around to playing it). Orion will begin his glut of TV now.By 5PM we get the drift that we're not being discharged yet, though no doctor has officially confirmed that. Trish is getting the drift that she won't be leaving town on Wednesday either. Her plan was to go up to Sol Duc hot springs and give massages for three days. My plan had been to do more freelancing with Sube for $20/hr.That night I get to go home again. To let the dog out and stuff.In the morning I return with my blue scrubs, hawaiian print shirt, flip flops and lab coat. I guess I'm just trying to normalize the appearance of all the doctors for Orion.We get a visit from Rainshine on his lunch break. Trish is out doing errands, and Orion has just started a nap, so it's a great connecting time for me and Rainshine. He leaves us with a pop-up circus book.The doctor tells us that we've got to stay another night. I leave right as Radio 8-Ball is concluding, but I call in for the last question: "Will my son get to come home tomorrow?" The answer sounds very positive.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Mother's Day Aftermath pt. 3
Thank you for the expressions of concern.The weather was mercifully milder than yesterday. The 11th floor of St. Pete's got pretty muggy by the end of the day. They have provided us with a 12" reciprocating fan, however.Orion got to watch: Thomas the Tank Engine, Caillou, Veggie Tales, Harry Potter, and a whole bunch more that we sampled. If I had a lot more time and money I'd donate a new shelving system for their tapes. They're doubled up and stacked and all everywhere filling an old transcription closet.He really needed to get more exercise. Leaving the floor was not an option. Trish made the mistake of informing the doctors that she would be taking him OUTSIDE for fresh air. You should've seen the looks on their faces.At first they let him drive the toy car around the whole floor, but after the noise complaints they closed the double doors to the neurology side!To be fair, he had just befriended a 4 y/o boy named Leaf (AKA 'REEF').'REEF' was in the Cop Car at the time. Orion was in the Red one, and he had it to the floor! He wasn't gonna let no old flatfoot take him down, even pulling an oxygen tank.
Thank you for the expressions of concern.The weather was mercifully milder than yesterday. The 11th floor of St. Pete's got pretty muggy by the end of the day. They have provided us with a 12" reciprocating fan, however.Orion got to watch: Thomas the Tank Engine, Caillou, Veggie Tales, Harry Potter, and a whole bunch more that we sampled. If I had a lot more time and money I'd donate a new shelving system for their tapes. They're doubled up and stacked and all everywhere filling an old transcription closet.He really needed to get more exercise. Leaving the floor was not an option. Trish made the mistake of informing the doctors that she would be taking him OUTSIDE for fresh air. You should've seen the looks on their faces.At first they let him drive the toy car around the whole floor, but after the noise complaints they closed the double doors to the neurology side!To be fair, he had just befriended a 4 y/o boy named Leaf (AKA 'REEF').'REEF' was in the Cop Car at the time. Orion was in the Red one, and he had it to the floor! He wasn't gonna let no old flatfoot take him down, even pulling an oxygen tank.
Summer Fun
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