Woody Cavenaugh

The plan was simple. The plan was easy. The plan was simple and easy enough even a trained ape could do it.

Then I entered the picture.

Dad's heart attack caught me by surprise. I was expecting Sara's birthday present on Thursday at my office, and I was on the crystal coast. Fortunately, I have a stellar office mate who agreed to quitely accept the package for me and squirrel it away where it would be when I snuck in Friday night upon my return from the coast. My plan, I liked to call operation "its a wrap". Thursday I got an email from my stellar officemate whom I dearly love. The package had just arrived. the nice FEDEX guy just walked in and asked for me by name. Standard practice. Not standard practice. By pure, blind, amazing, biblical, dumb luck, Sara was standing right there. On the outside of the box in big letters was the name of the company where the package originated. Stellar office mate whom I dearly love, snatched the package away and put it in a safe place. Crisis averted. Go Team Knowledge!

My ape simple plan was to leave for home and then an hour into the trip call Sara and let her know I had just left, thus assuring myself an hour of slack time to be ahead of schedule arriving into town.

Then mom called and let me know I had forgotten my work shoes. 40 minutes later I have returned home, gotten the shoes and headed back. I now only have 20 minutes slack time. I will be stealty. I will be quick. I will wrap like there is no tomorrow!!!

As I pull into the parking lot I see Sara's truck. Damn. She's in her office, this will require pirate like stealth.
And With cat like tread,
upon the stairs I stepped.
No sound at all, my key fits in the door.
Not long at all the present will be wrapped
All this sneaking, and get dinner too.

It was even better than I had hoped! As I opened the door I hear music blasting down the hall. Clearly Sara would NEVER hear me sneak in. It took 51 seconds to ease the door closed to minimize the sound of its closing.

Its just me, and my trusty roll of pink wrapping paper, and some ribbon.

I tiptoe in the hall.

"Oh hi there! you made it!" Sara was standing there, as though waiting.

DAMN...........................................IT.

I run up the stairs fumble with my keys, drop my keys, pick up my keys and manage to get into my office and get the door locked before Sara caught up with me.

Now to my office, get scissors, tape, and the box sitting....in the great wide open...upon my desk.

Damn it two times.

Where the heck are my freakin' scissors????? Fine. I'll use my pocket knife.

The ribbon could have doubled as dental floss.

My pretty pink package looks like it was wrapped by a five year old...ape in training. But I am not going to let this grocery list of setbacks spoil my birthday surprise for Sara. I look down at my ugly ass pink package and read the shipping label through the wrapping paper. The company name on the side of the box almost seems to be blinking in neon lights.WHO MAKES SEE THROUGH PAPER WRAPPING PAPER ANYWAY?????!?!?!?!

And then it hit me. Somewhere in the room was a hidden camera and everyone I have ever known, including my mother was watching my 5 year old ape in training antics. I am that guy in the sitcom who thinks he's so clever but his wife is so many steps ahead of him she's circled the block back behind him again. My life is sitcom and I'm comic relief, and it doesn't matter one little bit about the package, or the shoes, or the pink wrapping paper, or the dental floss or the scissors or nothing. All I wanted to do was give my wife a happy surprise on her birthday tomorrow and unless faerie maids slip into the single wide in the middle of the night and transform our home into a sea side retreat for a queen and her jester, it ain't happening.

Well played.

Next year, though. Next year. Victory shall be mine!!!!!

Posted by at 8:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Carteret General Hospital located in sunny Morehead City is a fine facility that has always strived to keep its fingers near the pulse of what the trends are on the Crystal Coast. In doing so they have built a huge wonderful birthing center that is really the pride of the community. Due to a minor miscalculation however the "finger" on the pulse clearly belongs to a proctologist. Reason being? The trend in this county for at least 20 years has been the influx of retirees, an aging local population, and a graduating high school class who can't wait to get the heck out of here!

So when a baby is born in this county they get the greatest attention possible in a new and state of the art facility. If someone of the average age in this county suddenly has a heart attack, they are shipped 40 minutes away to New Bern Regional in Craven County. I believe if Carteret General has any sort of cardiac unit at all, their motto must be, "Hey, they were alive when we we sent them to New Bern". Many of the local doctors know this and try to send their patients proactively to New Bern, but sometimes the heart doesn't wait.

Dad's doctor is one of those people who sends patients strait to New Bern. Dad's doctor enjoys racing his Shelby Cobra replica as a hobby. Dad's doctor's wife drives a Lotus Elise, which she also races on the weekends. I wish I didn't hate being around sick people so much, I could have a Lotus too. This doctor's office is built into an old restaurant, so the layout is different from any other office I have ever been to. The office furniture is all wicker, the decorations are nice, the atmosphere is relaxed, and the sick people are always just out of site as instead of one large waiting room, he has a series of twists and turns with little seating areas. The largest area has a TV in it larger than the smallest area. Homeless people could sleep in this TV. Remove the guts of the TV, hang two hammocks and the Skipper and Gilligan could live in the TV. If this TV had plates you could drive it. The doctor has a high attention to detail. He sent dad to New Bern. He noticed that one of the pictures on the wall was crooked when he spoke to dad and I in the lobby. Dad's been on something of a "I'm not dead yet, tis only a fleshwound" tour.

Its the cough that carries you off
Its the coffin they carry you off in
Besides little plastic pans and a portable urinal dad brought home a deep cough from the hospital. He still hasn't been able to shake it. The hospital told him it was because he was on oxygen. I think it was because he was in the hospital. Either way mom put a humidifier in his bedroom last night and it seemed to help. He has coughed much less today also. It looks like he may survive his trip to the hospital after all.

Mom, seeing opportunity and seizing upon it, had me take down the shutters across the front of the house. Since she used vacation time to take care of dad, and she had planned to do this task during her vacation, she has had to try to do both. Me being here to take the shutters down, and take care of dad, has been a big help. However, I did have to tell her that if she was going to have her own heart attack she'd better do it while I was already down here. While I love a good road trip to clear the cobwebs, the car is getting up in miles.

My grandfather used to tell me "What you get out of life is what you eat." When he got so old that he didn't really enjoy anything he was eating, he stopped loving life. Oddly enough, a man with that philosophy, one would think would be rather rotund. Not him. His weight was always right where it ought to be. I was the only tubby one in the family. Now, dad is home from the hospital and now that he has had the menue read to him by two giggling school girls we've had to figure out how a man who has eaten one way all his life is supposed to suddenly go salt, fat, and flavor free. I believe that this will be a long slow process if it is to happen at all. Mom thought that the little packages of Mrs Dash in his hospital plates was going to be the secret ingredient. Then we made her try to season her serving of grits with it. She is now a believer that there is no easy substitute.

The retired lifestyle isn't all that bad. Of course I don't have it 100% yet. If I could go to bed at sundown and wake up and sunup I would probably have a better grasps of what it is like. As it stands by the time I have been getting up at seven or eight after going to bed at nine or ten, the retiree's day is nearly spent. I also noticed that retired folks eat different from me. I eat four or five times a day with lunch being my largest meal. They eat twice. Ok, three times if you count the bowl of ice cream just as the sun is going down. My metabolism has a long way to go before I will be ready for my 6am breakfast and 4pm dinner with a 7pm bowl of ice cream. What about tenzies??? What about second lunch??? If I don't get my tenzies I've got the shakes by lunch time. But they don't see that. they only see that I jiggle when I walk. Hey old guys! My jiggle's sexy! (be even sexier if I were a girl, but I'm not so get over it. OK?)

As you can see, things are slowly returning to condition yellow around the Cavenaugh home. I feel ready to return to my life already in progress. Tomorrow, I'll be back with my lovely wife, and the next day I'll do my best to give her a happy birthday.

Posted by at 9:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

At nine this morning we walked in to find dad up in a chair watching TV. He had eaten a good breakfast and was feeling very upbeat and happy. By 10:30am he was asleep. At about 11:30am someone came in and said that dad would be discharged at 1pm. Excited by this mom and I rushed out to do some shopping and to get our last good meal out. We arrived at one expecting dad to be unhooked and ready to ride.

At about two O'clock the first person came in to discharge him. One talked about what would have to be done to be checked out. One checked his blood pressure, temperature, and O2 level. One had him sign some papers. Two giggling schoolgirls talked to him about nutrition. There was some confusion about what they were going to do about the crown they knocked out. By 4pm they summoned the "Gray Ladies".

Now I've seen Grease, I know about the Pink Ladies. Clearly they grew up and got good jobs.

But then I started thinking that perhaps these were actually some sort of spirits that carries the hospitalized from the land of Medicade to the land of the living and back. I was creeped out enough that I grabbed dad's plant and headed to the car. Car equal safe place.

He stepped from the wheel chair driven by either someone's grandmother or Death I couldn't quiet tell, and dad entered the safety of the car at 4:30pm. If being admitted is as bad as being discharged I think I'm just going to schedule my heart attack with them a day early so I can be settled in a room before I code.

I have this whole image of some Gray Lady steering me away from the light while I sign the entrance exam forms. NOT a happy place.

The next couple of days will be spent chasing my father from one appointment to another while reminding him that no he can't mow the grass, and no he can't go fishing yet. My reward for being a good son will be having to mow the grass. I just know it.

Oh yeah, for those keeping score:
1 case of arrhythmia
1 mild heart attack
1 visit to the Dr. just in time to avoid "the big one".
5 days of hospitilization.
1 stint
1 ballooned angioplasty
several blood clots in his heart
a whole lot of blood thinners
and 12 meals fit for the dead

All that remains are the clots, the blood thinners and the arrhythmia.

Electric "conversion" of his heart still remains.
Also remaining is a strange deep cough that he got on his first day in. They all implied that it was from the pure oxygen he was getting, but that gravy train ran out of steam on Sunday.

CLEAR!!!

Posted by at 6:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The 'not quite bad enough to be intensive care ward' is on the fourth floor of the Craven County Regional Bed and Breakfast on the same floor is oncology, the cancer ward. This entire time I have marvled at the speed and smoothness of the elevators. If you have ever ridden in a rough riding elevator you would love this. Apart from the lights and the friendly BING at each floor there is really no sensation of motion at all.

It was in this elevator on the fourth floor headed to the first I experienced this unnervingly long ride. Just before the doors closed on the fourth floor two guys my age came into the elevator. In high school I was in the theater and concert choir. In high school they drank beer under the bleachers and smoked in the boys room. In college I never got a tattoo. In tattoos they have never gone to college. Tough guys. Billy badass red necks who work hard and party hard. Business in the front, party in the rear, base ball caps NOT representing any sports team.

This wouldn't be that big a deal except for one little detail. They were trying so hard not to cry and they were failing. They came from oncology. Everyone deals with emotional pain differently though generally you can classify it and more educated folks than I have already done so. Five stages of grieving and all that. The knowledge I had of them and my education lead me to a very uncomfortable understanding.

Those two could have been me. They were feeling things they had no experience dealing with and they were ticking time bombs. I didn't want to be in the elevator with them. There is nothing worse than watching a badass cry, and ten times worse when it is brothers. I knew that one wrong move and they would channel their alien feelings into something they were more comfortable with, anger. Guys are good at being angry, basasses are very good at being angry. If you don't believe me then why has COPS been a show that has been going strong since 1988 with no cancellation in sight. I didn't want to add insult to injury by being forced to beat them bloody and then appologize for their loss. So I remained quiet like a little mouse and staired at my own shoes.

I also worried about them driving. Driving and Crying is a decent band, but no way to leave a hospital. Especially with anger so close to the surface. Had I had a bottle of something in my bag I would have given it to them without a word. I realize alcohol isn't the prefered treatment for loss, but it would have been a bandaid. Would they have driven while drinking? Of course, they would have anyway, and probalby did more than anyone would be willing to acknowledge. That's just the way it is.

That elevator ride has been over a long time now, but those guys haven't left my thoughts. We are as smoke from the same fire.

Posted by at 7:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As previously mentioned, the Cavenaugh family are a direct blood line decendant of Monty Python's Black Night. Also as previously mentioned, dad did not want anyone to know about his heart attack, or the side dish of irregular heart beat that went with it. He was even ticked off when mom told him that I knew. I did my best to placate his wishes. I waited until the weekend to go see him. Or as I like to tell him, "Come home to help mom out".

Today he was moved out of CIU, or "intensive care" and was moved into CIMU, which as best as I can tell is something like "intensive care lite". Not quite ready for a roomate, flowers and balloons, but at least we can spend hours with him rather than 30 minutes every two hours. His spirits are high and he is feeling better, enough that no more than gentle prodding was necessary for him to decide to call his brother. They talked for about five minutes. In that five minutes dad did all the talking. It was amazing, during that whole time he managed not to mention; heart, attack, irregular, intensive care, or difibulation. It was a story of wit and beauty that told the story without actually telling anything. His reasoning was that he knew his oldest brother and his wife had a tendency of being somewhat hysterical regarding emergency room visits and he didn't want to worry them.

Today I learned a new word. The word was "spolastic". My mother uses it all the time to talk about her sister and dad's brother (who are married...confusing story. Basically I have a cousin who is related to me on both sides.). As best as I can tell "spolastic" is a word made up of spastic and ballistic. Which to be fair, describes the way dad's brother, and mom's sister behaved in a nutshell. I suspect when they arrive they will take turns beraiting mom for refusing to tell them like it was all her idea. Remember: A Cavenaugh can do no wrong.

I have convinced mom to let me handle them and all other Cavenaugh's. All I had to say was that I had taken a course in Diplomacy and Tact. Which, while is true, I have also taken years of foreign language, sign language, modern dance, and gymnastics in my life and I have absolutely no ability, skill, or knowledge in any of them either. I volunteered because its fun! I hope this doesn't make me a bad person. If it does, pray for me, but realize that at least I am enjoying myself.

More tomorrow after the clan decends upon us. Its odd really. Behaviors that you absolutely won't tollerate in a friend you will accept from family. Its like genetics carries some sort of get out of trouble free card, you carry they carry half and if the halfs are a match you have to put up with their nonsense. For instance, I think dad not wanting to tell his two brothers and three sisters is quirky, but I accept it easily. I also hold less of a grudge against my aunts and uncles, even when they are being spolastic.

Posted by at 10:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

My philosophy, such as it is, regarding visiting someone in the hospital is to dress in a way that the patient is accustomed to seeing you. If I go to see my dad in a happy and colorful flowered print shirt and jeans it should send the message that "I'm not worried, you are going to be fine.". My opinion is that if dad is used to seeing me dressed casually and suddenly I show up in the hospital in my wedding/funeral suit he's going to do the math and realize that he is already married and that leaves just one other purpose for the suit. I would definately want to avoid that message.

At the hospital I noticed that my generation seemed to be thinking the same way I was, although I thought the "I am on my way home from the beach" look was a little too casual, and the "I just finished mowing grass" look was too dirty.

The generations older than me have a very different approach. They see being in the hospital as a special occasion you should dress for. They wore their Sunday finest, and some gentlemen wore hats. Now that I have spent a day sitting around a hospital lobby twiddling my thumbs waiting for the next 30 minute visiting period I have come to understand the older generation's way and I suppose it is good. This said, if I ever end up under then knife I would much rather come out of anestesia seeing you in swimwear than your sunday suit. (Especially true among the ladies!) If I my first thoughts comming out are wether or not I am alive, I would rather think I was in heaven rather than think I've come back for my own funeral. Funerals are boring, and the guest of honor is always stiff as a board.

Posted by at 8:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Yesterday I was writing this entry on my dad. I realize that it is dated the 19th, but I wrote it yesterday and back dated it to fill a hole. I like the five entries a week format. So yesterday I wrote it, all day I had to go back and put in things I forgot. Even last night on the drive home I had "Oh yeah!" moments that had to be included.

I get home and there is a letter in the mailbox from mom. There was on the phone the fact that she had called about an hour earlier. I figured this call was about the letter. I listened to the messages and in a matter of fact overly calm voice she asks me to call her. I could tell from the tone of her voice that it was urgent information she had to impart to me but she didn't want to panic me. I had to chuckle as I dialed her. I knew someone was in the hospital, it was just a matter of who that she would tell me when I called. She picked up on the first ring and put on her best poker voice. At least she thinks it is her poker voice. She brought me into this world, thus, I can read her like a book. So there was a short moment of casual chatting with each of us trying to outcool the other and she finally got around to saying, "oh by the way, your father has had a heart attack."

Its a funny thing about Cavenaugh's. If you've ever seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail you know of the Black Knight. "Its only a flesh wound!" He was a Cavenaugh. There are two facts about Cavenaugh's that you should probably know. One, Cavenaugh's are completely incapable of recognizing when another Cavenaugh is wrong (unless it is Cavenaugh against Cavenaugh then it gets really tricky). Two, Cavenaugh's do not admit weakness. They will gossip about one another's weaknesses, but they won't ever complain about themselves. Denise Leary once joked "John Wayne had cancer twice. Second time, they took out one of his lungs. He said, "Take 'em both! Cuz I don't need 'em!" That is the Cavenaugh mentality.

When I was a child I was spending a week with my grandmother. I had brought my motorcycle with me and about halfway through the week I finally let my cousin drive it. He is maybe a year older than me so he was probably 11 or 12 at the time. He drives us 30 miles per hour strait into the side of a house. I'm not kidding. To this day I won't ride with him. So we're laying on the ground writhing in agony. "Agony", you say? We are Cavenaughs barefooted, shorts, no helmet. The first thing to hit the building was the front wheel which stopped instantly, the energy went into the bike which hinged on the front axel, the second thing to hit the building was my forehead about six feet off of the ground. At this point there is still energy to be lost and nowhere else to go the bike then hinges on its steering column, the remaining energy is disapated from the bike slamming sideways into the building. My cousin who had only been riding for a week fell off the moment the front wheel hit. I had been riding since I was eight, I rode it like it was a rodeo bull all damage to the side of the bike was cushioned by my leg, the side of the bike took no damage, I limp when the weather changes to this day. All the forward energy is used up, the bike falls down on my cousin's leg. My forhead swelled up so much that not only did I have two black eyes, I could see my own forhead just by looking up. I was certain my leg was broken at the knee. My cousin stubbed his toe, and from where the bike landed on him he burned a patch of skin on his inner thigh about six inches by eight inches.

First aid consisted of a cold washrag on my head and a glass of tea. No hospital, no X-rays. It was a week and a half later when my cousin was taken to the doctor for his burn. It required skin grafts. A week after that his big toe nail fell off. It was six months later when I went to the doctor about my knee. He thougth I was making it up.

Yesterday dad had a regularly scheduled doctor's appointment, I will never know what for. If I find out any information about my Dad's health I have to rely on gossip. Or I can ask him about his new scars.
"What's with the scabs on your face."
"The doctor was burning off some skin cancer."

"Where did you get those stitches?"
"Hernia operation."
Yesterday dad had a regularly scheduled doctor's appointment and the doctor told him to go strait to the hospital in New Bern. Dad replied, "nah, that takes too long, I've got stuff to do." (Fishing or gardening) He then proceides to drive himself to Morehead where he is now being treated for a heart attack. They have to run test on him to figure out if they need to make any corrective actions. Mom casually mentions to me that his heart isn't beating correctly but she couldnt' remember what terms the doctor used." "Arrhythmia right?" I asked. "I'm not sure." was her response. Yet later she tips her hand by saying she's looking up stuff on the internet about what's wrong with him. I'm educated, she knows I am educated, and she knows that I could get the answers before her if I have any information to start from. Poker.

Cavenaugh's deny injury because injury is weakness and a Cavenaugh is never weak and seldom a coward. People married to Cavenaugh's cover for them. Perhaps not because they actually think a Cavenaugh is invulnerable, but more likely to protect the tender feelings of the Cavenaugh who actually believes he or she IS invulnerable. Sometimes I wonder if Cavenaugh marriages aren't so much husband and wife as they are a joining of hero and sidekick.

So here mom and I are talking on the phone trying to outcool one another as we negotiate when I am comming home. There will be no test results until 7:30pm Friday night so she sees no need for me to miss a day of work. I teach on Saturdays, so I'm trying to figure out if I am going home first thing in the morning or after my class. We agree that we can't know that until we get the results of his tests. I don't mention that I would have to cancel class if I have to come home first thing, I am teaching solo this week. If she knew that, she would lie to me about the test results tonight. So I tell her to call me tonight during fencing on my cell phone and tell me what's going on. I figure if I can out cool her, she might be more honest and forthcomming about the information she has. My other thought is that I could just get up this morning and go home on the downlow and surprise her. "Hi, I'm here, you can fess up now." I decited even before bed that I wasn't going to do that, but it was on the table.

This morning on the way to work the left rear tire on the car blew. Now I have to go replace a tire before I can do anything else. There goes lunch. At least I made it to work in time for my performance review with my boss.

Posted by at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

The wandering prophets have repopped. They are great experience if you are of lower levels, but be careful, they will track you. That's probably only funny if you've every played any sort of fantasy game (LARP, roll playing, MUD, console, or PC). The rest of you are free to scratch your heads in confusion, or shake your heads in mild bemusement. The fact remains that the streets of my workplace are coated in an even layer of men in suits trying to give everyone small green religious books.

Don't get me wrong, I am a great supporter of religious freedom, the rub is when their freedom is oppressing someone else (or at the very least making them uncomfortable). This is a fine time of the year if you worship from the small green book, but what if you are worshiping from the large black book, or one of various scrolls, or anything else for that matter. Is that the day the others stay in their rooms and order takeout?

I believe I wasn't the only one with that train of thought. In past years you couldn't really get anywhere without comming across them. One year I was persued by one. I had to duck into a building to escape.

This year, it wasn't bad. I actually got from the parking lot to my office without having to cross one of their paths. That is all I really ask. I just want to get from the parking lot to the safety of my green chair without being bedeviled by suits with green books. So this year was perfect. Keep up the good work gentlemen, and may whoever you're worshipping smile upon you in the manner that they do.

Posted by at 10:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Apparently there have been some folks in this country who seem to have gotten the United States of America confused with Colombia South America. It is an honest mistake, both of them are in America, one in the north and one in the south. The difference is that South America is generally warmer, the beaches are generally more tropical, and the obsession with looks is WAY greater than ours.

We have TV shows featuring women with plastic enhancements. They have TV shows ABOUT women getting plastic enhancements. The Simple Life was a tragic reality show here. There it would be a tragedy about a young woman and her friend who want love and frienship inspite of their lack of "aftermarket options", and their eating disorders.

They say that if you are ever feeling bad about yourself, you only need to open your eyes and see that there are people way worse off than you. Thanks to this piece of news I can now rest comfortably knowing that the US is still pretty darned good, and the folks in Colombia need to embrace mother nature's gift of wonderous variety.

Posted by at 11:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I don't brag on my father here much. I am not sure why really. His moto of "If man made it, man can fix it." comes from a lifetime of skill with all things mechanical. He was repairing his mother's gas powered washing machine at the tender age of eight. Among his seven siblings, if anything was broken, he was the go-to guy to get it fixed. After high school he and his girlfriend (soon to be wife, later to be my mom), went separately to Wilmington to seek their fortunes. She stayed at the YWCA, I think he was staying with an older brother. While there, he got a job with Block. Block was a smallish textile house making shirts, he trained as a mechianic. Through block he found a career he enjoyed, married my still later to be mother, and was transfered to Newport NC in 1964. The shirt factory in Newport was bought and sold many times over its existance and in the 1980's Blue Bell, (who bought the plant and its workers from International, and later sold it to Wrangler) announced that my father was the highest paid sewing machine mechanic on the entire eastern sea board and they weren't going to ever give him a raise again. (infact, none of the several other owners of the plant and its people did. He retired one of the lowest paid mechanics on the eastern sea board.) They did send him to Puerto Rico several times however to set up plants and train their mechanics. My dad helped to destroy the textile trade in the US. Cool! In your face textiles!

My dad's hobbies have always been his garden, fishing, and teaching old skills. At one time the area around the garden had a bunch of children living in it and they would always go to the garden to hang out with my dad. He would plant some suger cane, and a few hills of cotton, and tobaco, just to show them how it was harvested the old way. He did tie and dry the tobaco the old way, but he never did make yarn from the cotton. I think it was because he taught the children the older method of prepairing the cotton- pre-Eli Whitney.

Speaking of sugar cane, he got his hands on a turn of the century cane press that an uncle of his had had. He rebuilt it set it up, grew cane, and crafted the large copper pans necessary to turn the cane into cane syrup. He grew grapes, he made wine, he rebuilt his 1940something International Farm All Cub tractor, and he is known for his collards, which he sells right out of his field.

Back in the late 1970's he found he was getting tired of all of the bean shelling he was having to do on account of his "garden" was well over an acre. He heard through the grape vine that someone had invented a machine that shelled butterbeans and someone locally had bought one. Dad found out who, went over, looked it over, took a few measurements and went home and built one himself. It worked so well that he built several more refining the design as he went until today his "butter bean" sheller shells, all beans plus pecans.

He also built a little table top device used to take the skin off of new potatoes.

Over the course of his life he has repaired local "widow women's" sewing machines in exchange for nothing more than a jar of their jelly. To this day dad has never run out of jelly.

Some of the best eating I have ever experienced was foods cooked in his garden shed, which at one point one of his friends painted "Full Throttle Inn" on the front because there was always something going on there, and it was seldom empty.

In 1976 Newport had its first Pig Cooking Contest. Dad was on the ground floor of that and cooked every year for ten years. The wall of his "garage" at home is covered with plaques and trophies earned over those years. I had to put the word "garage" in quotation marks because while it is true his garage has a big garage door and he keeps his tools and work benches in it, he also has a kitchen and a bathroom, options not found on many other garages.

I am pleased to say that I got most of his gifts, although for some reason I turned out lazy, I have no idea how that happened, I spent my entire childhood trying to keep up with him and mom to no avail. Today is no different.

My dad made the paper again, and once again it was for being good. The full page article, with picture, page two, above the fold was in the Newport Voice vol. 2 No. 11. You've never heard of it? That's ok, if you're reading this you probably aren't from Newport anyway.

This time around it was for his efforts among many volunteers working to clean up the Newport River. Since my father has retired his primary interest are his garden and fishing in the river. As his garden is walking distance from the river, one is often an excuse for the other. As luck would have it his retirement came about at a time that people were starting to take an interest in canoeing and kayaking in the Newport River. A friend of my father's even open River Rats a kayak rental place right there on the river, when he retired from the military. With all of this convergant intererest, it was only a matter of time before everyone organized and removed not only the liter from the river but downed trees that were blocking access up and down the river. Of course now that the work is done, it will have to be maintained but I believe that as along as interest in activities on the river continues, there will be more than enough willing hands to keep the river clean and passable.

Posted by at 10:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Having returned from our vacation we still haven't had a chance to go to the grocery store and properly restock. Shopping is serious business not to be done while tired. We were so tired yesterday we skipped out on getting to see Gridiron Gang for free. We were really too tired to even talk about what we wanted to eat. We did eventually work out that we were too tired for a sit down meal but wanted something better than drive through.

Many solutions were tossed about. Chinese take out, Fried Chicken, Fried Okra, and Fried jalapino cheese bombers among them. I remembered that Sara had put the phone number of a really tasty chinese place in her phone for just such emergencies but she was so tired she couldn't immediately find it. Finally she did find it and she put in an order for low maen, general tso's, and some steamed dumplings. After she got off of the phone with them, she turns to me and groggly admits that jalapino cheese bombers and okra sounded really good.

Feeling tired but just a touch mischieveous, I drove strait to churches and bought some chicken, okra, and bombers, then we drove on to pick up the chinese. My thinking is this. We can eat the bombers and the okra on the way home, we can have some of our chinese now, some later, and save all of the chicken for later meals. I like left overs, and Church's chicken not only reheats well, but is very tasty cold anyway.

We get home and have a meal that can't be beat when suddenly Sara approaches me with two open hands. "Left or right." In each hand, a fortune cookie. I choose right because I am right handed and she is left handed. Her fortune read, "All the little things will add to a happy journey." She was dissatisified with it but it made sense to me. Currently she is working in a high level position doing high level work while being paid a low level salary for the low level job she was originally hired for. Clearly this makes her dissatisified, as they have no reason to buy the cow when they already get the milk for free. I took this fortune to mean that all of this work experience would one day allow her to have a real job doing real work for real money in the real world and she would be happy. Best of all, for them to get someone to do what she is doing now they would have to pay them double so she even gets a little revenge in there.

On the other hand, my fortune read: "Be mischievous and you will not be lonesome." I think the fates just gave me carte blanche! I've got a free ticket to misbehave and I'm not going waste that!

How do you think I'm doing so far?

Posted by at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

This has been a rough week for me, and each day of it I have slipped a little deeper into the relm of sleep deprevation. So this morning waking up even later than yesterday morning, and the day before, I arrived around the office late, and in the rain.

As I am walking in the direction of my building from the parking lot the rain stops and I become aware of just how pretty the place is. Everything is wet, everything is green with only a few leaves starting to turn their fall shades. The air was cool with a hint of briskness. People were smiling and I was just filled for a moment with an extreme sense of well being. I wondered if everyone around noticed just how wonderful the day was.

Then I wondered if instead they all noticed that my pants were missing a critical button from the fly.

They aren't tight, they aren't abused, they are actually dry rotting from age. I have a button with nothing to sew it to. I guess I'll have to set a portion of my paycheck aside next month to buy a couple of pairs of pants. Or maybe some cool High Tech underwear.

Posted by at 4:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

the show with zefrank

I have also learned that having a job at a university is sorta like a job in the real world. I'm not complaining, we get free food twice a year and the view is to die for.

Posted by at 8:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Thanks to Mario the Mermaid. Ahem...merman.

You scored as Angel. Angel: Angels are the guardians of all things, from the smallest ant to the tallest tree. They give inspiration, love, hope, and positive emotion. They live among humans without being seen. They are the good in all things, and if you feel alone, don't fear. They are always watching. Often times they merely stand by, whispering into the ears of those who feel lost. They would love nothing more then to reveal themselves, but in today's society, this would bring havoc and many unneeded questions. Give thanks to all things beautiful, for you are an Angel. Angel 75% Mermaid 58% WereWolf 50% Faerie 50% Demon 34% Dragon 33% What Mythological Creature are you? (Cool Pics!) created with QuizFarm.com

Posted by at 8:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Folks have wanted pictures, and here they are. We took nearly a gig and a half of pictures and I have made a quick pass getting rid of those ruined by being taken in a moving car with dirty windows. I will probably make many passes over the next few days to get them all happy and sorted. And yes, I created this Picasa account and hit the free space wall in about an hour. If I like this I will probably end up paying for more space so I can put something up here other than a single vacation.

What was the most beautiful thing I saw on this trip? I would have to say it was always the view just over the next hill. I look forward to seeing it again.

It is funny. I have gone on long road trips in the past, and I have seen spectular sights, but always in the past home was the place I hung my hat in Newport, and the house was where I hung my hat (at the time) in Summerfield. Home will always be Newport, but the place I want to dwell, is here no longer. I didn't have the extreme attachment to any place like Sara did with The Badlands, but I saw places I liked just as much or more than where I am now. I find I can think now about actually leaving here for there. Why not? No matter where you go, there you are. "Anywhere is." The difference is there has a better view than here. I find I much prefer to see the horizion in the distance.

This place is actually starting to feel a little close, like it though I have.

I'm not packing my bags if that's what you're thinking. To be fair, I haven't yet unpacked my bags. My entire bloodline back to the year 1800 are all within a four hour drive (all due east). Most of my friends live a hour from me, though the list of those living farther away grows longer by the year.

I like my job, it is a nice job and I enjoy it, though I know even it has no horizion beyond that I can touch tomorrow. There is some fear in trying to find a place with a paycheck with my skills in the real world. And that's even knowing that the most intelligent and successful person I have ever met never needed more than his GED to get to where he is.

There's fencing of course. My club is filled with one of the single finest groups of folks I would ever call friends. I am also pleased as pie to know that if I were hit by a bus tomorrow, club would still run as normal tomorrow night. They would be missed.

Are these things alone enough to anchor me in Greensboro forever?

From Badlands

Posted by at 11:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

By the strictist of definitions, this is not a Hellride we are taking. In a true Hellride, you stop for just three things, bathroom breaks, driver swaps, and gas. If you want to eat, you would have to eat during one of the three above. On the voyage home we stopped once to eat at a Taco Johns and we ate there. Sara only drove only once (a story I will tell later), and we actually got a hotel room in Peoria Illinoise. Though we did stop, we were only there for six hours and five of those were spent sleeping so I will not break the account up into two parts. I will tell it how it happened.

We woke up about 6:30am in the Badlands KOA. Our note said we needed to go by the registration desk and that didn't open until 8am so we had some time on our hands. We spent it showering and taking some pictures. b By 8:30am we were back in the Badlands for our last few hours of real vacation. We had a relaxing breakfast at the restaurant in the park, I had what they called an Indian Breakfast Taco. I have learned that in most places you say "taco" it means a hard or a soft shell of very flat bread filled with seasoned meat veggies, and if you said "Supreme", sour cream. When you add the word "Indian" to "taco" in the west you get something very differet (and better). "Indian" means fry bread. "taco" means whatever they ladel on top of the fry bread. In this case, peppers, onions, cheese, sausage, tomatoes, and egg. Yummers! I brought home the recipe for fry bread, we'll be killing ourselves slowly with that later.

Relaxing time in the Badlands actually meant driving from one scenic overlook to another and Sara getting out of the car to take some hurried pictures before we go quickly to the next scenic overlook. If I got out of the car, we were taking too long, on a couple of occasions I absolutely had to get out of the car. This place didn't move me like it did Sara but that doesn't mean is it isn't simply one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen in my whole life. If I could only visit one place on vacation for the rest of my days, The Badlands makes the cut, followed very closely by "beach house with a balcony overlooking nude beach". What can I say, I love nature in all of its splender.

It was about 11am we somberly drove out of The Badlands State Park, and the journey home truly began. It is/was by the way 11am THURSDAY...
We drove hard and fast from there to Peoria IL arriving to the conclusion at 2am that I had had about enough and sleep was comming to get me ready or not. I'm not sure of the miles I covered that day, but we had driven through several states and the terain was getting more like home with every mile. We did stop at a Taco Johns. We had tasted Taco Time the day before and we wanted to compare the two. As it turns out they are both the same, with different names. As bad as we wanted to we didn't stop in "What Cheer" Iowa. We were curious to see if this name was factual or ironic. We learned the next morning that we were going to miss the Morton Illinois 40th annual Pumpkin Festival by a week. That made me sad. I would actually like to see America by local festival.

From here on the ride became even more Hellish, we only stoppd for gas and bathroom breaks and when we stopped we got food which we ate in the car as we drove. I have a new fondness for the Flying J. They served us well. Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, flowed like water beneath us. Especially if the water was filled with potholes which in this case it was. At this time I need to say once again how much I loved our rented Outback, what potholes. As we approached the NC state line I was getting pretty worn down. The lanes started to feel narrow, and my reactions were slowing due to lack of proper rest. I vowed that the NC Welcome center I would turn the wheel over to Sara and sleep. Which I did.

What kind of idiot forces someone who is tired to drive a car they have never driven before in the mountains over strange roads. Oh wait. That would be me. By exit 5, Sara was fit to be tied, tired and more than a little angry. I have no idea what happened between exits 1 and 5 as I was asleep, but the nap helped and Sara definately needed a break. I took the wheel again, and with coffee in hand got us home at 12:50am on Saturday Morning.

I woke up in bed having no real memory of how I got there about 8am. While Sara slept I unloaded the car and got it ready to turn in at the Airport. My hope was that if we turned it in a day early Sally would get some money back for early return. We also had to pick up the pets from the kennel before 11am. Sara woke up, showered and announced that I had not turned on the hot water again as I thought, I had infact turned off the furnace. So she's REALLY awake, and there's no way I'm going to take a cold shower the way I felt at that moment so we hopped into the car and headed for the vet.

When we dropped the animals off we had to take both the Saturn and the truck in order to fit them all. With the Outback we were able to get all the animals and us in the same car on the same trip. Did I mention it gets 30 miles to the gallon? $800.00 the dogs were happy, healthy, clean, and damned glad to see us. The cats were in various stages of unhappiness. Spot was almost catatonic. We were actually a little worried about him. As soon as his carrier opened at the house he bolted for the next closest tight place and wedged himself tightly into it. He was unconsolble. The other two cats made peace with things right away. Max was pretty much spry and kitten-like. Not bad for a 14 year old.

Next we had to leave again and drop the car off at the airport. Hey, why not eat while we were out. We got gas for the car, we got food we didn't have to eat in the car and we dropped the car off. 3477 miles and $717.00 in six days. Most of the miles happened at the end, all of the money was paid up front by Sally for the car and the animals, otherwise this vacation of a lifetime would have been only a dream.

I was in bed last night by 8pm by the way, and I woke up somewhat refreshed by 8am this morning as I type this. Much of the trip is a blur of road feedback from the steering wheel of the RV and the Outback. At least Sara has a gig of pictures for me to see.

I think I could be ready to do it again tomorrow, but I'll need some time to wash my underwear, and sleep some more. Plus, the Outback misses me mightily.

I'll wrap up tomorrow once I have had some time to reflect and digest.

Posted by at 9:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

This morning we were in Cody Wyoming, the plan was to hellride to The Badlands, and then hellride at least as far away as Nebraska, but our plans are always...fluid. We got distracted by Bighorn National Park and Shell Falls. So we decided briefly to catch Devils tower. The KOA there plays Close Encounters of the Third Kind every night at sunset. That would have been fun. But that would mean not getting to The Badlands until tomorrow and that would mean driving all night to get us back home on schedule. So our new plan the "A" plan we stuck with was to reserve a kabin at the KOA of The Badlands drive strait through it via the park and then the next morning go out and see the park for an hour or two.

Remember what I said about plans being fluid?

Do you happen to hold any stock in the idea of reincarnation? Well if you do, you will understand what I'm about to say, and if you don't, just bare with me for a sentence or two. I am pretty sure my lovely bride hunted bison with spear and stone tools in this very spot long long ago.

We arrived at The Badlands right at sunset and spent more than an hour photographing the sunset, the moonrise, and the vistas where the deer and the antelope play. We took their pictures too. The digital camera has no trouble with shooting in low light so long as you can hold the camera steady enough for a long exposure. We have a tripod, so that was easy, and the photos are spectacular. In the morning early we will be back.

It was about 10pm when we hit the KOA just outside of the park. We have had no dinner, I don't think either of us mind. We made a decision to be in that place at that hour, and I for one do not regret that decision for one minute. Digging around in my bag I found a bottle of whiskey, and a tin of altoids. Bon Apetitie from The Badlands....

Update: Sleep didn't come all that easy. There was some kind of wild animal clawing and growling at the back of our cabin. Eventually I ended perching in the back window barely breathing trying to catch a glimpse of what it was that was trying to get in here and eat us. We had seen badgers in The Badlands, and those critters are fierce! I'm not going out there til I know what I am up against. So a tense hour overall was spent trying to identify the beast(s).

It was kittens.

Posted by at 11:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

9/5/06

"I want to go to the crappy state park where I am the hero." Sara

We left Onterio this morning and headed in easterly direction until the point we turned due north and blazed a trail strait for Yellowstone. On the way we discovered a whole mess of state parks named for a whole mess of things and people.

The plan was to hit yellowstone and go north east to Cody Wyoming. The reality was that as we were pulling up to pay our $25.00 entry fee, we see a sign that proclaims that due to construction the Cody exit would be closed from 8pm until 8am. It was 5:13pm. On a hunch I asked the nice ranger taking my money if there was time to make it from here to there. In his own words.

"If you see a bear fighting a dragon, you cannot stop, you must press on in order to make it. Oh yeah, and make sure to do exactly the speed limit or you will lose a lot of time as you are being given a ticket."

Good advice. Check.
Bears. Check.
Not stopping for extinct animals. Check.

We saw totonka. We saw a lot of totonka.

We saw beautiful vistas, we saw hot springs, we saw mountains, we saw lakes, we saw acres and acres of burned down forest, and finally we saw from our vantage point at the front of the line a 30 minute wait at the construction zone for the pilot vehical to return from the other side. We smelled sulphor too. It was 7:30 when we could start moving again and we crossed the finish line at 7:54pm. We never got out of the car. Sara took many pictures with the camera phones from a moving car. It was sort of blitzkreig photography. Or strafing picture making.

Sara has taken a lot of pictures from a moving car this past week and a day and from these experiences I have discovered a couple of "Sara Laws of Photography".

Law One: The best shot is the one missed because of the semi truck that manages to materialize in the way at the last possible moment ruining the shot completely.

Law Two: Your digital camera's battery will die just before you get to the most beautiful part.

Today Law Two came into effect upon entering Yellowstone where it abruptly died. We charge it every night, but we take a bunch of picutres every day. Should have bought that extra battery afterall.

"Grizily bears: Different Rules Apply" <--actual sign read outside of yellowstone.

In Cody we finally mangaged to get that steak I have been going on about since day one. And no, I didn't get the 30 ounce one. Sara saw it before me and made a rule that I could have it. Steak goooood. Now for the rest of the trip I won't complain about peanut butter sandwhiches and convenience store buritos.

For those curious this is the first place I have had internet access in three days, thus my entries suddenly show up out of nowhere. Now to bed, tomorrow the Badlands and Nebraska...

Posted by at 10:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

9/4/06

From Poulsbo to Seattle back on a different ferry. Something worth mentioning about Washington state. You can't throw a rock without hitting a coffee kiosk. Also if you want to pay for it, you can get wireless internet at any rest area in the state.

Sally drove Sara and I to the airport where she rented us a car for the journey home. We got to see some of Seattle. Mostly the dock and the bottoms of underpasses. I never did see anything that looked like a space needle. I think that Fraiser guy was full of shit.

As I write this I am in a Motel Six in Onterio having made good time today. Oh yeah, that's Onterio Oregon. If I walk across the street I will be in Idaho. Our goal tomorrow is to get back to the bad lands via yellowstone. This is night three without internet access. I only just found out that Steve Erwin is dead. And not by lethal reptile bite either. That wouldn't be irony would it? Bummer. Makes me wish this room didn't have a TV.

And now to sleep. The tablet says it is 2:45am EST.

BTW...the Suberu Outback freakin rocks!

Posted by at 10:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

9/3/06

From Courè d'Alene to the Kingston Ferry and beyond to Poulsbo we rode hard across Washington State to the end of the world. Washington has big ferries. We not only were able to take the RV to the island, we got to park it on the first floor and not have to unhook it. We parked it next to a classic Masariti. It was good.

We found the house and found the driveway that seemed to be purposed built for Serenity. Eventually. It had been a while since Sally had been there, and there were a few missed turns and searching around. But we found it, disconnected the shuttle and I pulled Serenity through its last 100 feet. 3000+ miles of flawless piloting, and no damage at all.

The plan was I was to simply back the RV up the driveway. With the camera system you can back it through the eye of a needle and still leave room for the thread. What the camera doesn't show is the distance between the towing rig and the rear tires. Normally this isn't a thing, however, in this case the driveway has two little combersom details. First, it has a gentle slope from the street to the top. The second problem is that there is a short and sudden slope from the sidewalk to the driveway. The effect is that when I attempted to back up the driveway the towing rig bottoms out on the driveway.

Ok, plan B. I am to drive it up the driveway. Ready set, bam. Bam? WTF is BAM? Time to back the heck up. Odd...I'm giving it gas, but I'm not doing that movement thing I am accustomed to. Time to investigate. Huh? Didn't expect that. The towing rig is dug into the pavement of the street. No backing back, no going forward, 1/4 of the street is blocked by RV. So what I need to do is find a way to remove the towing rig. You know, the one wedged in the street. Have I ever told you I was a clever monkey? I use the leveling system to raise back enough to remove the towing rig. Well that was the plan anyway. It would have worked, but I would have also needed a system to right it again after I rolled the RV on its side. So that didn't work.

Up the street walks the solution in humble clothing. One of the neighbors just happened to work for a towing service. She took one look at our situation and said, "Oh easy. This is like how they get those lowered cars up on flatbeds. You put boards under the rear tires and you drive up.

Smart lady.

Damage assessment. The towing rig was 100%,...fine. No damage whatsoever. The pavement was groved severly though. The only actual damage was the breakaway power plug for the towing rig. It had broken away as it should with no other damage, except my pride that is.

At this point Sally is in the process of getting moved in while Sara and I are unloading. The owner of the house had done a great job of being as helpful as she could for a person in an entirely other country. Everything was labeled. I'm not kidding. I didn't know there were so many different sizes of post it notes. Even the garbage was labeled. AMAZING.

After a quite moment alone prepping Serenity for adventures without me, my last act was the relenquish the keys. It wasn't easy for me. At this point its about 9:30pm and we are hungry. The waterfront is just down the street and we head that way for dinner. On a Sunday night. We didn't go where we had planned, but we ended up having the best Mexican food I had ever had. I think they were about close but had forgotton to turn off their neon open sign. So the owner served us. We drove 3000 miles to eat Mexican food and it was worth it.

Mission Accomplished. Now all we have to do is drive home again.

Posted by at 10:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

9/2/06

Our path took us from Hardin MO to Courè d'Alene ID. Our path was through mountains of various heights, tree types, and densities. The road went up-ditty up up, it went down-ditty down down. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once. Well, it was just beautiful to me, I was driving, if it was terrifying at all for my passengers I have no idea.

I have made law. My new law is this. Speed limits mean nothing to RV's at all. One of those minimum limit signs may mean something but upper limits are right out. The reason is, if the road is windy, you are in a sailboat. Headwind slows you way down, tail wind speeds you up a little, cross winds make everyone afraid. This includes me, even if I am driving. The solution is of course to drive the speed the RV wants to go and not try to impose draconian law on the RV. It will end in tears.

Montana is beautiful by the way. We saw the Crazy Mountains. I would have had the song Quiet Mountain Town from the Southpark movie running through my head but the only words I could remember were "...and the grass is green. under the three feet of snow I mean." So I went crazy instead.

Dinner was an adventure. We went into town, albet late, looking for a restaurant. All the restaurants magically turn into bars at a certain hour. That hour had past. Leaving us with an IGA and microwavable heat and eats for our dinner. As it turns out the company and the atmosphere are both more important than the food. We did have a lot of laughs trying to navigate Courè d'Alene during happy hour, and that's something.

Sara got altitude sickness and vomited. We also both had headaches. All in all it was the best day ever.

Posted by at 10:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

9/1/06

When we last left off, the crew of Serenity was sleeping in the cold and stormy of the Black Hills in South Dakota. Mt. Rushmore was enjoyed in the cold and wet, but Sara did pick up a nice hooded jacket at the KOA. It was less wet at the Crazy Horse Memorial, but just as chilly. 38 temperature 32 with wind chill. When I unhooked from camp power and water there was a little pile of hail that had collected at the base of our neighbor's tent. Ice. From the sky. In August.

We spent some happy fun times at the Crazy Horse Monument, and didn't leave until 2:30pm local time. We saw Deadwood, not the TV show, but the actual town. It was full of bars, casinos, hotels and tourist. We didn't stop, but I took pictures.

Now 10:46 pm local we are in Montanna. Specifically we are in Hardin, Montanna. Do you know what that means? That means tomorrow, I get steak, fresh from the cow. I'm thinking a pound just for starters as an appitizer. From there, it only gets better. The route through Whyoming (yeah so what) runs directly parallel to the railroad tracks. Towns are found everywhere there is water. The road and the railroad connect the dots. The reality is we had to travel probably 600 miles to only cover 500 miles. (GPS doth Rock)

So at the Hardin KOA (President's Choice Award 2004), the railroad, a coal refinery, and the Interstate are all within a mile of here, and all in plain site. Plain as in "where the deer and the antilope play" plain. Also Plane. As in flat as a board.

I won't know if it is pretty until daylight, however when I look into the sky I see twice the number of stars you do. Nah Nah!

Temperatures currently 56 degrees, tonights low 44. Furnance condition, excellent!

Posted by at 1:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)