I took this photo at Bryan Memorial Park in Selma, IL. As in William Jennings Bryan Memorial Park. Yesterday.
I took a photo of old William too. I'll probably just upload that one to flickr. (In case you are forgetting, Bryan was the prosecutor in the Scopes Trial, arguing that evolution was both "irrational and immoral." And no, he never became president, but many of us think of him as one. I suspect because he RAN for president 3 times. And is such a prominent name in American history.)
Today Chris, Lis and I went to downtown Nashville and walked around. I shot many photos and I'll post them when I get home. We had a great time just wandering around and poking in shops and taking in the architecture of the place. We stopped in at the Ryman Auditorium, but did not take the tour since it was $16 a pop. The auditorium has been called the "Mother Church of Country Music" which, I'm sure is in part due to the fact that riverboat captain Thomas Green Ryman originally built the building to be the Union Gospel Tabernacle. Interestingly, William Jennings Bryan once lectured from the stage there.
I got a great shot of a the bronze statues of Minnie Pearl and long-time love interest Roy Acuff. I'll post that later too.
And now this evening it's wine, hot dogs, corn on the cob, and fried zucchini for supper. Tomorrow morning we'll head for home.
Oh! I nearly forgot! Tambri sent me a text that there's been a BIG FIRE at Erskine College. Yikes!
Friday, July 11, 2008
The End of a Long Day
We saw these guys catching a catnap in the back of a pickup yesterday. We were all hurling down the freeway at 80+mph. It was nearly 90 yesterday, so I can certainly understand how workers could be so tired that they could sleep even in an open pickup truck.
I forgot to run this through the noise reducing software, so it's a bit grainy. And in the interest of full disclosure I should admit my stupidity in taking this photo:
I was driving. Lis took photos out the front windshield, but we weren't totally happy with the angle. So naturally I pulled up to where I was nearly tailgating the truck, (did I mention 80 mph?) and took the camera, one hand on the wheel, Lis' hand also on the wheel, and I got off two shots. And yeah, we had a minor child in the car.
We got to Chris' house outside Nashville right around 6 p.m. We had to let ourselves in because Chris and Kevin had to take 5-year-old Sammy to Urgent Care to have a pebble removed from her ear.
"I fell down and the rock got in there," she told the doctor.
In actuality she was in time-out for a dust-up she had with her friend Ryan when she stuck the pebble in her ear.
After a nice supper of spaghetti, which Lis made, we sat and drank wine and chatted. Today we will wander downtown Nashville for a bit, taking in the sites.
I forgot to run this through the noise reducing software, so it's a bit grainy. And in the interest of full disclosure I should admit my stupidity in taking this photo:
I was driving. Lis took photos out the front windshield, but we weren't totally happy with the angle. So naturally I pulled up to where I was nearly tailgating the truck, (did I mention 80 mph?) and took the camera, one hand on the wheel, Lis' hand also on the wheel, and I got off two shots. And yeah, we had a minor child in the car.
We got to Chris' house outside Nashville right around 6 p.m. We had to let ourselves in because Chris and Kevin had to take 5-year-old Sammy to Urgent Care to have a pebble removed from her ear.
"I fell down and the rock got in there," she told the doctor.
In actuality she was in time-out for a dust-up she had with her friend Ryan when she stuck the pebble in her ear.
After a nice supper of spaghetti, which Lis made, we sat and drank wine and chatted. Today we will wander downtown Nashville for a bit, taking in the sites.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Bear the Traveler
Here's Bear in the hotel in Bloomington, IL. We are staying at the Baymont Inn, a pet-friendly hotel. We stayed here on the way to Minneapolis (see the Beep Beep Flash Flash entry).
Bear seems to be quite the natural traveler. He sleeps well in the car and doesn't make a sound when we start or stop. He drinks when we give him water, and pretty much makes no demands on us. Last time, on the way up, he basically held his appetite and bowel habits most of the trip...except for that deposit he made behind the couch at Chris' (sorry!)...
We are staying here tonight (obviously) and then going on to Nashville tomorrow to sponge off Chris and her family for two nights. We'll pal around town with her on Friday and then head out for home Saturday.
It was a great visit, a good chance to see the family and hang out with buddy Julie (even though she about wore me out yesterday ripping wallpaper off the walls in the parsonage kitchen!). But I will be glad to have a couple of free-and-easy weeks at home before going back to work on July 31.
My friend Debbie Burgess, she of the Hungry Fox, has taken it upon herself to try to blog for 21 days straight to try to establish the good habit of blogging every day. I think I may try to do this with photography. I kind of gave up the 365 day flickr group because of the stress of coming up with self-portraits every day. Maybe just to take a photo every day will be a good step toward working on my photo taking and editing skills.
Bear seems to be quite the natural traveler. He sleeps well in the car and doesn't make a sound when we start or stop. He drinks when we give him water, and pretty much makes no demands on us. Last time, on the way up, he basically held his appetite and bowel habits most of the trip...except for that deposit he made behind the couch at Chris' (sorry!)...
We are staying here tonight (obviously) and then going on to Nashville tomorrow to sponge off Chris and her family for two nights. We'll pal around town with her on Friday and then head out for home Saturday.
It was a great visit, a good chance to see the family and hang out with buddy Julie (even though she about wore me out yesterday ripping wallpaper off the walls in the parsonage kitchen!). But I will be glad to have a couple of free-and-easy weeks at home before going back to work on July 31.
My friend Debbie Burgess, she of the Hungry Fox, has taken it upon herself to try to blog for 21 days straight to try to establish the good habit of blogging every day. I think I may try to do this with photography. I kind of gave up the 365 day flickr group because of the stress of coming up with self-portraits every day. Maybe just to take a photo every day will be a good step toward working on my photo taking and editing skills.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Mom's House of Whimsy
Yesterday I fooled around a bit with my camera...something I haven't done much of this summer. I decided to challenge myself by setting it on one focal length and then shooting with just manual focus. I'm pretty pleased with my results. I do have one shot, though, that I will do again with autofocus. I didn't bring a tripod and I need the vibration reduction to help with it.
But this is not that shot. These are some items my Mom has on the coffee table in her porch. The little green guy is made of a gourd. And the bowl is too. The statue is one of many she has that are made by Isabelle Bloom. (Just looked for a website and can't find one)
But this is not that shot. These are some items my Mom has on the coffee table in her porch. The little green guy is made of a gourd. And the bowl is too. The statue is one of many she has that are made by Isabelle Bloom. (Just looked for a website and can't find one)
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Rollin' Rollin' Rollin'
"Though the streams are swollen
Keep them doggies rollin'
Rawhide"
And roll we did. 19 miles from Cannon Falls to Red Wing, 19 miles back. All along the swollen Cannon River we kept our doggies pumping the pedals of our bikes.
My brother Ted and I met at Cannon Falls at 7 a.m. and took off about 15 minutes later. We stopped in Welch for a potty break and then went on to Red Wing. A guy at Welch told Ted there was "nothing at the other end but a McDonalds!" Dork. There's a whole freakin' town at the other end, loaded with gastronomic possibilities!
Farther into town. Away from the trail.
Right on the edge of town, where the trail dumps out, there're a couple of shopping areas with some restaurants that were not open. We rolled up to a gas station that said it had a restaurant attached and found it locked.
As we sat there on the bench outside the gas station, chuckling at our stupidity (we had spent several minutes lining up our bikes and meticulously locking them together before checking the door), a pickup rolled up.
"Are they closed?" the fellow asked. He looked about Dad's age.
Ted walked up to the open window of his truck and told him they were closed.
"I'm hungry!" I shouted from the bench.
The guy said that sometimes Econo Foods has a pretty decent breakfast. He told Ted to stay put. He'd drive over there and look and come back to tell us.
A few minutes later he came back and said, "Well, how about Perkins?" By this time I'd checked my Magellan and saw there was one 1.2 miles up the road. Ted asked if it was that far. "Probably." was the answer.
"Throw your bikes in the back and I'll run you up there," he offered.
And so was my second hitchhiking experience of the trip.
I missed the guy's name. I made Ted sit in the middle in the guy's pickup cab (that was a humorous sight...260 lb, 6'1" Ted hunched in the middle of this mini-pickup cab and me by the window.)
The fellow, I'll call him Roy because Ted said he couldn't remember his name but it was an "old guy's name like Roy," was a semi-retired building inspector and part time project manager for commercial properties.
Nice fella. I was glad I sat next to the window. At the end of the ride he said, "Watch your arm, sweetheart," when he rolled up the window as we got out. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. But it would have creeped me out if he'd called me that and I was in the middle.
So we had an enormous breakfast around 8:30 or 9 and then hit the trail to come back. Believe me, it was a LOT harder on the way back. Poor Ted had a racing saddle on his bike, which is not terribly friendly to the bottom. And of course we were getting slightly tired. And there was a breeze against us on the way back, as well as a lot of bike traffic on the trail. Everyone was out to enjoy a nice ride on the 4th.
We got back to Cannon Falls around 12, which kind of astounded us. Could we really have taken 5 hours to cover 40 miles? So we were standing there saying to each other "Well we stopped here, we stopped there, we had breakfast." Finally I said "You know, we prolly actually covered it all in about 45 minutes if we take out all the stops."
And then we were pleased.
Keep them doggies rollin'
Rawhide"
And roll we did. 19 miles from Cannon Falls to Red Wing, 19 miles back. All along the swollen Cannon River we kept our doggies pumping the pedals of our bikes.
My brother Ted and I met at Cannon Falls at 7 a.m. and took off about 15 minutes later. We stopped in Welch for a potty break and then went on to Red Wing. A guy at Welch told Ted there was "nothing at the other end but a McDonalds!" Dork. There's a whole freakin' town at the other end, loaded with gastronomic possibilities!
Farther into town. Away from the trail.
Right on the edge of town, where the trail dumps out, there're a couple of shopping areas with some restaurants that were not open. We rolled up to a gas station that said it had a restaurant attached and found it locked.
As we sat there on the bench outside the gas station, chuckling at our stupidity (we had spent several minutes lining up our bikes and meticulously locking them together before checking the door), a pickup rolled up.
"Are they closed?" the fellow asked. He looked about Dad's age.
Ted walked up to the open window of his truck and told him they were closed.
"I'm hungry!" I shouted from the bench.
The guy said that sometimes Econo Foods has a pretty decent breakfast. He told Ted to stay put. He'd drive over there and look and come back to tell us.
A few minutes later he came back and said, "Well, how about Perkins?" By this time I'd checked my Magellan and saw there was one 1.2 miles up the road. Ted asked if it was that far. "Probably." was the answer.
"Throw your bikes in the back and I'll run you up there," he offered.
And so was my second hitchhiking experience of the trip.
I missed the guy's name. I made Ted sit in the middle in the guy's pickup cab (that was a humorous sight...260 lb, 6'1" Ted hunched in the middle of this mini-pickup cab and me by the window.)
The fellow, I'll call him Roy because Ted said he couldn't remember his name but it was an "old guy's name like Roy," was a semi-retired building inspector and part time project manager for commercial properties.
Nice fella. I was glad I sat next to the window. At the end of the ride he said, "Watch your arm, sweetheart," when he rolled up the window as we got out. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. But it would have creeped me out if he'd called me that and I was in the middle.
So we had an enormous breakfast around 8:30 or 9 and then hit the trail to come back. Believe me, it was a LOT harder on the way back. Poor Ted had a racing saddle on his bike, which is not terribly friendly to the bottom. And of course we were getting slightly tired. And there was a breeze against us on the way back, as well as a lot of bike traffic on the trail. Everyone was out to enjoy a nice ride on the 4th.
We got back to Cannon Falls around 12, which kind of astounded us. Could we really have taken 5 hours to cover 40 miles? So we were standing there saying to each other "Well we stopped here, we stopped there, we had breakfast." Finally I said "You know, we prolly actually covered it all in about 45 minutes if we take out all the stops."
And then we were pleased.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
The Weather Outside is DELIGHTFUL!
I snaked an arm out from under the covers this morning to grab my cell phone.
"Ok. Its July and I'm huddling in my bed not wanting to get out because its only 55 degrees and I left the windows open last night," I text(ed?) to Rena, Sarah, Tambri, and Chris.
Yup. July 3. 55 degrees. Bracing! I got up and put on my jeans, SOCKS (!) and my warmest t-shirt. Now at 4:45 p.m. it is a really nice 78 degrees out...warm enough for crops.
My morning expedition was to ride my bike to downtown Farmington. I strapped my Jazzercise mini-backpack to my handlebars and set out to gather provisions: 2 bottle of wine (a red Rioja from Spain and a Piesporter Riesling I hadn't tried yet), a movie (The Great Debate with Denzel Washington), a bag of Foglifter coffee by Millstone and a loaf of crusty bread from the Farmington Bakery. I was pretty amazed that I could fit the two bottles and the bag of coffee in my little backpack.
Mom went strawberry picking this morning. She left at 6:00 when I was still dead to the world. So for lunch I had a grilled cheese sandwich and a handful of berries. I finished reading my book, "The Titan," by Fred Mustard Stewart. GREAT BOOK! It kept me riveted...very hard to put down.
This afternoon we sought out National Camera Exchange and I bought a small folding reflector and 3 lens caps. I've lost 2 caps so I replaced those and bought another to have as a spare. And of course the obligatory Target stop. I bought some shirts for Nate that were on sale.
While Dad's in the hospital Mom has been carrying his wallet around in her purse. When we sat down for coffee, she said, "Hmm...this is like going to the bank." And she pulled out his wallet, took $20 out, and put it into hers. "I just made a transfer," she said.
Now tonight we'll have steak. I'm in charge of cooking that when Mom's at her piano lesson. Tomorrow I think Ted and I will ride the Cannon River trail. We'll see. The day will end at Julia's with a bonfire.
"Ok. Its July and I'm huddling in my bed not wanting to get out because its only 55 degrees and I left the windows open last night," I text(ed?) to Rena, Sarah, Tambri, and Chris.
Yup. July 3. 55 degrees. Bracing! I got up and put on my jeans, SOCKS (!) and my warmest t-shirt. Now at 4:45 p.m. it is a really nice 78 degrees out...warm enough for crops.
My morning expedition was to ride my bike to downtown Farmington. I strapped my Jazzercise mini-backpack to my handlebars and set out to gather provisions: 2 bottle of wine (a red Rioja from Spain and a Piesporter Riesling I hadn't tried yet), a movie (The Great Debate with Denzel Washington), a bag of Foglifter coffee by Millstone and a loaf of crusty bread from the Farmington Bakery. I was pretty amazed that I could fit the two bottles and the bag of coffee in my little backpack.
Mom went strawberry picking this morning. She left at 6:00 when I was still dead to the world. So for lunch I had a grilled cheese sandwich and a handful of berries. I finished reading my book, "The Titan," by Fred Mustard Stewart. GREAT BOOK! It kept me riveted...very hard to put down.
This afternoon we sought out National Camera Exchange and I bought a small folding reflector and 3 lens caps. I've lost 2 caps so I replaced those and bought another to have as a spare. And of course the obligatory Target stop. I bought some shirts for Nate that were on sale.
While Dad's in the hospital Mom has been carrying his wallet around in her purse. When we sat down for coffee, she said, "Hmm...this is like going to the bank." And she pulled out his wallet, took $20 out, and put it into hers. "I just made a transfer," she said.
Now tonight we'll have steak. I'm in charge of cooking that when Mom's at her piano lesson. Tomorrow I think Ted and I will ride the Cannon River trail. We'll see. The day will end at Julia's with a bonfire.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Running Around
We have been very pleased with what a great traveler Bear is turning out to be. The first day in the car he was a little unsettled, but not a lot. He didn't cry or anything. He just looked a little "on edge." Never really relaxed much that day. But by the second day he was all about enjoying the ride. He stretched out on his seat and dropped off to sleep, not really even moving around much. He did a good job in the hotel, not barking even once if people walked down the hall.
He's also had good house guest behavior with just one accident at Chris' and one at Mom's. Both poop incidents. I don't understand why they do that, but dogs seem to need to do something in a house the first day they are there. Every dog that has visited our house has done that too.
Each morning I get up and walk him around Farmington before breakfast. He also loves Mom's fenced-in back yard, running around and exploring the gardens. At Julia's he seems a little lost out there. Julia said they would let him out and he didn't come back. They would go looking for him and find him hunched over under a tree. I think he found some mulch pile in her back yard and rolled in it, though. He really smelled like gardening manure last night when I picked him and brought him back to Mom's. So he had a 10 p.m. bath.
Sunday was a little more exciting than I would care for. Dad ended up in the emergency room at the Northfield hospital and ultimately had surgery to remove portions of his bowel, which had perforated. He will be in the hospital until at least Friday, maybe even as late as Sunday.
Yesterday brother Ted, sister Julia and I took the kids on a bike ride down the Minnehaha Parkway. We rode from Lake Nokomis to Fort Snelling State Park. It was fun to ride the old neighborhood. Everything is in full bloom and Minneapolis has done a wonderful job updating the Minnehaha Falls area. Ted and I are thinking of another ride on Friday morning.
After the ride we went to the Malt Shop for an excellent lunch and then I spent the afternoon and evening at John and Julie's house. They moved into their new parsonage a couple of weeks ago so I helped with some unpacking during the afternoon. I was in charge of the workshop room in the basement, which I brushed out with a stiff whisk broom and then organized with all Julie's tools and such. It was a satisfying project. After cleaning up, we walked back to the 50th and Lyndale area and at the Blackbird Cafe, which is next door to the Malt Shop. I had a wonderful spring pea ravioli dish.
This morning I'm just hanging around and this afternoon Lis and I plan to go to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts to see the Frielander: Photography exhibit.
He's also had good house guest behavior with just one accident at Chris' and one at Mom's. Both poop incidents. I don't understand why they do that, but dogs seem to need to do something in a house the first day they are there. Every dog that has visited our house has done that too.
Each morning I get up and walk him around Farmington before breakfast. He also loves Mom's fenced-in back yard, running around and exploring the gardens. At Julia's he seems a little lost out there. Julia said they would let him out and he didn't come back. They would go looking for him and find him hunched over under a tree. I think he found some mulch pile in her back yard and rolled in it, though. He really smelled like gardening manure last night when I picked him and brought him back to Mom's. So he had a 10 p.m. bath.
Sunday was a little more exciting than I would care for. Dad ended up in the emergency room at the Northfield hospital and ultimately had surgery to remove portions of his bowel, which had perforated. He will be in the hospital until at least Friday, maybe even as late as Sunday.
Yesterday brother Ted, sister Julia and I took the kids on a bike ride down the Minnehaha Parkway. We rode from Lake Nokomis to Fort Snelling State Park. It was fun to ride the old neighborhood. Everything is in full bloom and Minneapolis has done a wonderful job updating the Minnehaha Falls area. Ted and I are thinking of another ride on Friday morning.
After the ride we went to the Malt Shop for an excellent lunch and then I spent the afternoon and evening at John and Julie's house. They moved into their new parsonage a couple of weeks ago so I helped with some unpacking during the afternoon. I was in charge of the workshop room in the basement, which I brushed out with a stiff whisk broom and then organized with all Julie's tools and such. It was a satisfying project. After cleaning up, we walked back to the 50th and Lyndale area and at the Blackbird Cafe, which is next door to the Malt Shop. I had a wonderful spring pea ravioli dish.
This morning I'm just hanging around and this afternoon Lis and I plan to go to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts to see the Frielander: Photography exhibit.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Beep Beep Flash Flash
The sights and sounds outside our hotel room in Bloomington, IL on Tuesday night.
Wonderful hotel. We stayed at the Baymont Inn. It's a pet-friendly hotel, which I'd never stayed in before. Rather I should say I've never stayed in a hotel with a pet before. I guess I could have stayed in a hotel that allows them, but I've never brought one with me.
Anyway. My expectations were low. My parents had tried staying in pet-friendly hotels before with mixed results. The principle concern they had was that they seemed to be given smoking rooms, even when requesting non-smoking. Dad's theory was that they must just put all the "bad stuff" in those rooms...smokers and pets.
So Lis made the reservations (she's an AARP member) and I told her, "be sure sure sure it's a nonsmoking room!"
The hotel was spotless. And smelled crisp and clean. They were changing out carpet and furniture in some parts of it, so it was being remodeled as well.
We checked in, confusing the heck out of poor Bear as we kept taking him outside every 15 minutes trying to get him to pass some solid waste. But we did settle down and have a meal of Wendy's chili and salad. And wine. Then Taylor settled in to watch the tube and Lis and I repaired to the pool deck with our other glass of wine. It was a gorgeous evening out. No bugs, perfect temp. We settled in to bed around 10:30 and dropped right off to sleep.
Around midnight we heard what sounded like a loud clock radio beeping over and over. Lis got up to investigate and saw a red SUV parked under our window (we were on the 2nd floor) with the car alarm going off. The headlights were flashing and the beeping was persistent. We figured someone would come shut it off soon, so we went back to bed. About 3 or 4 minutes later it stopped.
An hour or so later it started up again. Lasted 3 or 4 minutes, stopped.
Every 90 minutes or so it would start again. All. Night.
I did not call the front desk. I figured someone else would. I actually slept through it for the most part. I'd hear the beeping sound, identify it, drop back off to sleep. I woke pretty refreshed except for a migraine, which was unrelated. So I was good. Taylor never knew about it. Lis said she was good.
We were in the elevator with our bags the next the morning and I said to Lis, "I see someone did stick a note on the windshield of that car." And the other woman in the elevator said they had complained to the front desk a few times during the night, once running into the fellow that was staying in the room right in front of the flashing headlights. The hotel staff didn't seem to know what to do.
That kind of blows my mind. They take your vehicle information when you register. Why didn't they look up who it belonged to, call his room, and tell him about the problem? If they couldn't reach him they could have gone to his room. And if that didn't work, they should have had it towed.
So Baymont? Nice hotel. Kind of stupid staff, however. At least at that one.
Wonderful hotel. We stayed at the Baymont Inn. It's a pet-friendly hotel, which I'd never stayed in before. Rather I should say I've never stayed in a hotel with a pet before. I guess I could have stayed in a hotel that allows them, but I've never brought one with me.
Anyway. My expectations were low. My parents had tried staying in pet-friendly hotels before with mixed results. The principle concern they had was that they seemed to be given smoking rooms, even when requesting non-smoking. Dad's theory was that they must just put all the "bad stuff" in those rooms...smokers and pets.
So Lis made the reservations (she's an AARP member) and I told her, "be sure sure sure it's a nonsmoking room!"
The hotel was spotless. And smelled crisp and clean. They were changing out carpet and furniture in some parts of it, so it was being remodeled as well.
We checked in, confusing the heck out of poor Bear as we kept taking him outside every 15 minutes trying to get him to pass some solid waste. But we did settle down and have a meal of Wendy's chili and salad. And wine. Then Taylor settled in to watch the tube and Lis and I repaired to the pool deck with our other glass of wine. It was a gorgeous evening out. No bugs, perfect temp. We settled in to bed around 10:30 and dropped right off to sleep.
Around midnight we heard what sounded like a loud clock radio beeping over and over. Lis got up to investigate and saw a red SUV parked under our window (we were on the 2nd floor) with the car alarm going off. The headlights were flashing and the beeping was persistent. We figured someone would come shut it off soon, so we went back to bed. About 3 or 4 minutes later it stopped.
An hour or so later it started up again. Lasted 3 or 4 minutes, stopped.
Every 90 minutes or so it would start again. All. Night.
I did not call the front desk. I figured someone else would. I actually slept through it for the most part. I'd hear the beeping sound, identify it, drop back off to sleep. I woke pretty refreshed except for a migraine, which was unrelated. So I was good. Taylor never knew about it. Lis said she was good.
We were in the elevator with our bags the next the morning and I said to Lis, "I see someone did stick a note on the windshield of that car." And the other woman in the elevator said they had complained to the front desk a few times during the night, once running into the fellow that was staying in the room right in front of the flashing headlights. The hotel staff didn't seem to know what to do.
That kind of blows my mind. They take your vehicle information when you register. Why didn't they look up who it belonged to, call his room, and tell him about the problem? If they couldn't reach him they could have gone to his room. And if that didn't work, they should have had it towed.
So Baymont? Nice hotel. Kind of stupid staff, however. At least at that one.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Hitchhiking in Mount Vernon, IL
I am very late with this entry. No real excuses. Sorry.
Tuesday we traveled from Nashville to Bloomington, IL. Lis and I like to get out and walk and see stuff, so after a couple of hours on the road, I asked Magellan to tell me about some points of interest. As it turns out we were just an exit or so away from Mount Vernon, IL.
The AAA information built into Magellan pointed out that the Appellate courthouse was where Abraham Lincoln argued cases and also served as an emergency hospital under the guidance of Clara Barton during a tornado in 1888. Magellan also said that there was an historic village to see in the town. So we told Magellan to take us there. And she did. Right to the center of Mt. Vernon.
We looked around and didn't really see anything that looked like a replica of a village, and no real signs about the Appellate Court. So we parked and started wandering around downtown. Taylor and Lis periodically said, "There's an old building. Maybe that's it." And so we would walk to that, ultimately finding an old church and a couple of other buildings.
Finally we saw a postal worker and asked her. She directed us down a street, told us where to turn after a bit, and we set out walking.
What turned out later to be something like 2 miles, we ended up outside the Cedarhurst Center for the Arts. We didn't go in there because we figured the village was on the other side, but as we walked by the center we were able to enjoy the many wonderful sculptures that dot their park.
Finally we came to a sign that sign that directed us to the village...to go down one more street. At this point Taylor said, "I want to go back to the car." I suspect we all did at that point. It was in the low 90s and we were pretty hot and thirsty and sweaty. Bear was dragging along on his leash. I told the other two that I would go to the car and bring it back. I suspected that we had come the long way to our present location and my internal compass was telling me that I could turn around and go straight down the street we were on and find downtown. I assured Lis that I would ask someone.
And so I set out and, after about 3 blocks, I saw an elderly gentleman outside a house pounding a "For Rent" sign into the ground. We had noticed a mailbox right there that had the name "T--" on it, and above the mailbox was another sign that said, "The house that Jack built." I had commented on it to the others when we walked by the first time.
"Are you Jack?" I asked the gentleman.
"Yes!" he said, with a quizzical look on his face.
I walked toward him with my hand outstretched. "I'm Karen and I'm lost," I told him.
He chuckled a bit and then I told him I was from South Carolina, traveling to Minneapolis to visit family with my friend and younger son. We had stopped here to stretch our legs and ended up walking pretty far from our car. I asked him to confirm my suspicion about where downtown was, and he immediately said, "Hop in the car. I'll run you down there."
And so we moved his extension cords out of the way and hopped into his Taurus.
"So when did you build your house?" I asked.
"Oh, my wife and I did in '67," he said.
"So you've lived here almost all my life," I said.
"Oh, I think I'm about three times as old as you are," he chuckled.
"Now Jack, I doubt that," I said. "I'm 48."
"Well I'm 86, so I guess almost twice then," he laughed.
As we drove back to the car (and here I proudly mention that I was correct about its' location...thanks to my great sense of direction), we visited for a bit about our lives. He lost his wife in 1992 and has three living children. One lives about 40 miles away and the others close to 300. He's a retired boilermaker and then did some arrangements for land leases to oil companies. "I still do a little of that," he said.
And we got back to the car. We exchanged email addresses and I got into my car to go back to the others.
The village was closed and is obviously a tourist thing...but it seems well put together. I was disturbed by the real gravestones that are just leaning up against the church in the village. My theory is that if old gravestones fall over or break, they should be left on the gravesite if they aren't going to be repaired. There is a great cemetery by the village. But we were too hot and tired to do any more walking around, so we left. We never did go back to the Appellate Courthouse to look around. That's the real attraction there, to my way of thinking. I guess you can call for a free tour. We'll have to do that some day.
So kudos to Jack, of "the house that Jack built!" Great guy!
Tuesday we traveled from Nashville to Bloomington, IL. Lis and I like to get out and walk and see stuff, so after a couple of hours on the road, I asked Magellan to tell me about some points of interest. As it turns out we were just an exit or so away from Mount Vernon, IL.
The AAA information built into Magellan pointed out that the Appellate courthouse was where Abraham Lincoln argued cases and also served as an emergency hospital under the guidance of Clara Barton during a tornado in 1888. Magellan also said that there was an historic village to see in the town. So we told Magellan to take us there. And she did. Right to the center of Mt. Vernon.
We looked around and didn't really see anything that looked like a replica of a village, and no real signs about the Appellate Court. So we parked and started wandering around downtown. Taylor and Lis periodically said, "There's an old building. Maybe that's it." And so we would walk to that, ultimately finding an old church and a couple of other buildings.
Finally we saw a postal worker and asked her. She directed us down a street, told us where to turn after a bit, and we set out walking.
What turned out later to be something like 2 miles, we ended up outside the Cedarhurst Center for the Arts. We didn't go in there because we figured the village was on the other side, but as we walked by the center we were able to enjoy the many wonderful sculptures that dot their park.
Finally we came to a sign that sign that directed us to the village...to go down one more street. At this point Taylor said, "I want to go back to the car." I suspect we all did at that point. It was in the low 90s and we were pretty hot and thirsty and sweaty. Bear was dragging along on his leash. I told the other two that I would go to the car and bring it back. I suspected that we had come the long way to our present location and my internal compass was telling me that I could turn around and go straight down the street we were on and find downtown. I assured Lis that I would ask someone.
And so I set out and, after about 3 blocks, I saw an elderly gentleman outside a house pounding a "For Rent" sign into the ground. We had noticed a mailbox right there that had the name "T--" on it, and above the mailbox was another sign that said, "The house that Jack built." I had commented on it to the others when we walked by the first time.
"Are you Jack?" I asked the gentleman.
"Yes!" he said, with a quizzical look on his face.
I walked toward him with my hand outstretched. "I'm Karen and I'm lost," I told him.
He chuckled a bit and then I told him I was from South Carolina, traveling to Minneapolis to visit family with my friend and younger son. We had stopped here to stretch our legs and ended up walking pretty far from our car. I asked him to confirm my suspicion about where downtown was, and he immediately said, "Hop in the car. I'll run you down there."
And so we moved his extension cords out of the way and hopped into his Taurus.
"So when did you build your house?" I asked.
"Oh, my wife and I did in '67," he said.
"So you've lived here almost all my life," I said.
"Oh, I think I'm about three times as old as you are," he chuckled.
"Now Jack, I doubt that," I said. "I'm 48."
"Well I'm 86, so I guess almost twice then," he laughed.
As we drove back to the car (and here I proudly mention that I was correct about its' location...thanks to my great sense of direction), we visited for a bit about our lives. He lost his wife in 1992 and has three living children. One lives about 40 miles away and the others close to 300. He's a retired boilermaker and then did some arrangements for land leases to oil companies. "I still do a little of that," he said.
And we got back to the car. We exchanged email addresses and I got into my car to go back to the others.
The village was closed and is obviously a tourist thing...but it seems well put together. I was disturbed by the real gravestones that are just leaning up against the church in the village. My theory is that if old gravestones fall over or break, they should be left on the gravesite if they aren't going to be repaired. There is a great cemetery by the village. But we were too hot and tired to do any more walking around, so we left. We never did go back to the Appellate Courthouse to look around. That's the real attraction there, to my way of thinking. I guess you can call for a free tour. We'll have to do that some day.
So kudos to Jack, of "the house that Jack built!" Great guy!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
No Beans, No Potato Salad
When the Magellan Maestro 4250 suddenly went black and seemed not at all interested in being revived, we found ourselves without a safety net: NO US Atlas. Huh. AND no map of Kentucky, which was kind of bad because we were on the border of Tennessee and Kentucky. Outside Paducah, on hwy 24, going around a region called "The Land Between the Lakes." The lakes being Kentucky Lake and Barkley Lake. Got it?
So we decided what better thing to do than just eat lunch? And right down the road, on the way to a lock and dam, was a BBQ place.
Knoth's. That's what it was.
I opened the side door to the place and immediately said to Lis, "This smells like a good BBQ place." An older lady behind the counter greeted me and smiled and I said, "But is the tea sweet?"
"No. But I can sweeten some for you," she said.
And so we commenced to telling the other waitress at the counter about our plans for a picnic lunch by the Barkley Lock & Dam and she helped us figure out what we wanted. "Anything we have on the menu you can take away," she said. "But we don't have beans or potato salad." That was just fine with me.
While they put together our lunch, we wandered around and read the signs posted all over the walls. As I gathered up the sacks, I asked the waitress if she gets a lot of grief about not having beans and potato salad.
"Well, when he (she gestures across the restaurant) opened the place in 1964, there were no beans or potato salad. The menu is still exactly the same as it was. It's worked just fine."
I said, "I just asked because I see you have it printed on the back of your shirt."
Her friendly expression changed to mirth and she leaned in and patted my arm. "Oh! We have new shirts printed up each year and one year we put that on there just to be funny! It's my favorite one," she said.
Then she told me about one customer a while back that was kind of grieving her about beans and potato salad. "I told him we've never had it and that's that," she said. "Then I turned around and showed him the back of my shirt."
She said the customer seemed a bit puzzled, so she turned around again and pointed to her back.
"I don't understand what you are showing me," he said.
"So I turned around to her (points to the other waitress) and said, 'What does it say on my shirt?'" She told me.
"Catering," the other woman said.
And she gave a big laugh and leaned in and patted my arm again. What a great story!
So we went to the lock and watched some barges go through, ate a fantastic lunch and then got back in the car. Magellan was clearly considering retiring. Screen still black. As we drove back to the highway, I played with it and hit 'reset' a few times. Finally, just as we pulled in to a truck stop to buy an atlas, it came on.
I still bought the atlas. It's just dumb to fly without a net.
Tomorrow I'll tell you about the hitchhiking I did in Mt. Vernon, IL.
So we decided what better thing to do than just eat lunch? And right down the road, on the way to a lock and dam, was a BBQ place.
Knoth's. That's what it was.
I opened the side door to the place and immediately said to Lis, "This smells like a good BBQ place." An older lady behind the counter greeted me and smiled and I said, "But is the tea sweet?"
"No. But I can sweeten some for you," she said.
And so we commenced to telling the other waitress at the counter about our plans for a picnic lunch by the Barkley Lock & Dam and she helped us figure out what we wanted. "Anything we have on the menu you can take away," she said. "But we don't have beans or potato salad." That was just fine with me.
While they put together our lunch, we wandered around and read the signs posted all over the walls. As I gathered up the sacks, I asked the waitress if she gets a lot of grief about not having beans and potato salad.
"Well, when he (she gestures across the restaurant) opened the place in 1964, there were no beans or potato salad. The menu is still exactly the same as it was. It's worked just fine."
I said, "I just asked because I see you have it printed on the back of your shirt."
Her friendly expression changed to mirth and she leaned in and patted my arm. "Oh! We have new shirts printed up each year and one year we put that on there just to be funny! It's my favorite one," she said.
Then she told me about one customer a while back that was kind of grieving her about beans and potato salad. "I told him we've never had it and that's that," she said. "Then I turned around and showed him the back of my shirt."
She said the customer seemed a bit puzzled, so she turned around again and pointed to her back.
"I don't understand what you are showing me," he said.
"So I turned around to her (points to the other waitress) and said, 'What does it say on my shirt?'" She told me.
"Catering," the other woman said.
And she gave a big laugh and leaned in and patted my arm again. What a great story!
So we went to the lock and watched some barges go through, ate a fantastic lunch and then got back in the car. Magellan was clearly considering retiring. Screen still black. As we drove back to the highway, I played with it and hit 'reset' a few times. Finally, just as we pulled in to a truck stop to buy an atlas, it came on.
I still bought the atlas. It's just dumb to fly without a net.
Tomorrow I'll tell you about the hitchhiking I did in Mt. Vernon, IL.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Who Is This?
Today I went shopping for a SKIRT.
To wear to a WEDDING.
A wedding I invited MYSELF TO.
And with the SKIRT I bought a long NECKLACE
And DRESSY SANDALS.
hm.
Brother Becky's kid is getting married while I'm visiting Minnesota. To be honest, I don't even know which kid it is. Don't know if it's the boy or one of the girls. I suspect it's the oldest girl. The wedding is July 5.
Brother Lis told me I have to go with them if I'm going to be in town. "I was not invited," I said. "Well, that's because you live in South Carolina," she said. "You know she just didn't want to seem to be asking for a present. The rest of the brothers will be there."
So we called Becky. "I hear you're having a party!" I said. "Can I come?" She sounded delighted, so there you are.
I told my friends here about the wedding. "I suppose I can't wear slacks," I said.
"NO!" was the resounding reply.
The whining commenced.
Finally today I decided to just pop into Coldwater Creek and have a look around. I decided to give it 30 minutes, tops. Tambri rode along. Right off the bat we found a long, brown skirt and a cool, embroidered white blouse. Tambri threw a necklace on the pile just as I was paying. Walked across the parking lot to get dressy sandals at Off Broadway. And so in 60 minutes I was ready.
I sent a text to Rena, who had promised to take me shopping tomorrow.
"Mission Accomplished. Skirt, shirts, shoes, and shiny bling," I said.
"Who is this?" she texted back.
Text to Sarah...same thing.
"Who went with you?" she texted back.
Sheesh. Do they know me or what? I got good buds. And now I'm somewhat excited about the wedding.
And so that's what's going on here. Monday morning I run down to Columbia to pick up Lis, who is visiting her in-laws. We'll drive to Nashville to stay the night with Chris and then stop in Bloomington, IL Tuesday night. Should be in Minnesota by Wednesday.
I finished work last Thursday. I report back July 31. I plan to play as much as possible in the next month.
To wear to a WEDDING.
A wedding I invited MYSELF TO.
And with the SKIRT I bought a long NECKLACE
And DRESSY SANDALS.
hm.
Brother Becky's kid is getting married while I'm visiting Minnesota. To be honest, I don't even know which kid it is. Don't know if it's the boy or one of the girls. I suspect it's the oldest girl. The wedding is July 5.
Brother Lis told me I have to go with them if I'm going to be in town. "I was not invited," I said. "Well, that's because you live in South Carolina," she said. "You know she just didn't want to seem to be asking for a present. The rest of the brothers will be there."
So we called Becky. "I hear you're having a party!" I said. "Can I come?" She sounded delighted, so there you are.
I told my friends here about the wedding. "I suppose I can't wear slacks," I said.
"NO!" was the resounding reply.
The whining commenced.
Finally today I decided to just pop into Coldwater Creek and have a look around. I decided to give it 30 minutes, tops. Tambri rode along. Right off the bat we found a long, brown skirt and a cool, embroidered white blouse. Tambri threw a necklace on the pile just as I was paying. Walked across the parking lot to get dressy sandals at Off Broadway. And so in 60 minutes I was ready.
I sent a text to Rena, who had promised to take me shopping tomorrow.
"Mission Accomplished. Skirt, shirts, shoes, and shiny bling," I said.
"Who is this?" she texted back.
Text to Sarah...same thing.
"Who went with you?" she texted back.
Sheesh. Do they know me or what? I got good buds. And now I'm somewhat excited about the wedding.
And so that's what's going on here. Monday morning I run down to Columbia to pick up Lis, who is visiting her in-laws. We'll drive to Nashville to stay the night with Chris and then stop in Bloomington, IL Tuesday night. Should be in Minnesota by Wednesday.
I finished work last Thursday. I report back July 31. I plan to play as much as possible in the next month.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Hearing the Un-Hearable
I bought a remote bark control to try to gain some sort of ground against Bear's barking. It's the territorial, you-are-walking-in-front-of-my-propity barking.
It works.
Too well.
Nate and his girlfriend can both hear it. They call it the "Devil Box."
But they don't bark, either, so I guess it works really well.
It works.
Too well.
Nate and his girlfriend can both hear it. They call it the "Devil Box."
But they don't bark, either, so I guess it works really well.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Leavings
Last night was Tony's last Friday dinner with us. He leaves for Aynor, SC (35.1 miles from the BEACH!) on Wednesday. At Taylor's suggestion, I made a batch of homemade chicken noodle soup...Tony's favorite. I did a twist on the noodles this time, though. Because of a shortage of flour, I used half Masa flour. They turned out well, and I think I may do that more often. They are a sort of unappetizing gray color, though.
After supper I shot some portraits of him, which I have not uploaded yet. I'm hoping to get a really nice one to give to some of our church members. He's become my little brother and also a sort of son to a couple of the ladies at church. So I hope to have a nice one I can use to print 8x10s and give them away. Sometime this weekend I have to write a story about him. It will be column, not a news story. And it will have quite a few examples of how he's managed to crawl into our hearts to reside.
I have another few days of work this week. I've lost track of how many days I owe the district, but I'm pretty sure it's 4 or 5, so I'll work all next week and be done of the summer. Sort of. I'm organizing our vault of student records, and I won't have time during the school year, so if I don't get it completed this week I know I'll stop in later on to finish up. Taylor and I will be going to Minnesota for a couple of weeks, so it'll probably be late July before I stop in there again.
We have records of every Indian Land student dating back to 1923. That includes not only graduates, but also drop-outs and withdrawals. I've already moved the graduate files to plastic totes with lids so that the records won't be damaged if there's a fire and they get sprinkled. Now I'm working on the drop-out/withdrawal files, which are held in several 4-drawer file cabinets. Most of the drawers are too full to get your fingers into, so when you get a request for records it's hard to pull the file you want. I've decided to pull out all the ones that are more than 10 years old and put them in plastic totes too. For now I'm piling those totes on top of the cabinets, with the hope that I can get facilities management to build me more shelves up there.
The drop-out files are not filed by date, just alphabetically. So this necessitates pulling each file and checking inside to see if there is some sort of clue as to what year they left. I generally don't read students files -- just pull them, get what I need, and get out. But in some cases I have to search for a date and this can lead to some interesting finds. Most of the time there is no reason given for dropping-out or any mention of where the student went when they withdrew. But occasionally I find a poignant comment that gives me pause.
One file said that this 6th grader had been withdrawn from our school for "failure to report." Scribbled across the page was "Ran Away." And in another file was a request for a transcript a couple of years ago from the Ohio Department of Corrections. The request said that they had an inmate who indicated he'd attended Indian Land High School in the 70s and now wanted to pursue his GED.
And there are others that indicate how much personal attention our students receive. I found a note written by my friend Trish when she taught second grade many many years ago. A student of hers was moving to a new state and Trish wrote a brief note to the new school telling them what a delightful little girl the student was, and that she's an excellent student, but needs to get more sleep.
And now it's time to go to Jazzercise. And then maybe a little shopping this afternoon.
After supper I shot some portraits of him, which I have not uploaded yet. I'm hoping to get a really nice one to give to some of our church members. He's become my little brother and also a sort of son to a couple of the ladies at church. So I hope to have a nice one I can use to print 8x10s and give them away. Sometime this weekend I have to write a story about him. It will be column, not a news story. And it will have quite a few examples of how he's managed to crawl into our hearts to reside.
I have another few days of work this week. I've lost track of how many days I owe the district, but I'm pretty sure it's 4 or 5, so I'll work all next week and be done of the summer. Sort of. I'm organizing our vault of student records, and I won't have time during the school year, so if I don't get it completed this week I know I'll stop in later on to finish up. Taylor and I will be going to Minnesota for a couple of weeks, so it'll probably be late July before I stop in there again.
We have records of every Indian Land student dating back to 1923. That includes not only graduates, but also drop-outs and withdrawals. I've already moved the graduate files to plastic totes with lids so that the records won't be damaged if there's a fire and they get sprinkled. Now I'm working on the drop-out/withdrawal files, which are held in several 4-drawer file cabinets. Most of the drawers are too full to get your fingers into, so when you get a request for records it's hard to pull the file you want. I've decided to pull out all the ones that are more than 10 years old and put them in plastic totes too. For now I'm piling those totes on top of the cabinets, with the hope that I can get facilities management to build me more shelves up there.
The drop-out files are not filed by date, just alphabetically. So this necessitates pulling each file and checking inside to see if there is some sort of clue as to what year they left. I generally don't read students files -- just pull them, get what I need, and get out. But in some cases I have to search for a date and this can lead to some interesting finds. Most of the time there is no reason given for dropping-out or any mention of where the student went when they withdrew. But occasionally I find a poignant comment that gives me pause.
One file said that this 6th grader had been withdrawn from our school for "failure to report." Scribbled across the page was "Ran Away." And in another file was a request for a transcript a couple of years ago from the Ohio Department of Corrections. The request said that they had an inmate who indicated he'd attended Indian Land High School in the 70s and now wanted to pursue his GED.
And there are others that indicate how much personal attention our students receive. I found a note written by my friend Trish when she taught second grade many many years ago. A student of hers was moving to a new state and Trish wrote a brief note to the new school telling them what a delightful little girl the student was, and that she's an excellent student, but needs to get more sleep.
And now it's time to go to Jazzercise. And then maybe a little shopping this afternoon.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Sox
My life is pretty much a continuous battle with socks. Oh sure, I have the usual battle with pairs going into the laundry and only singles coming out. But the main problem I have with socks is finding them where they are not meant to be.
The other day I sat down in the downstairs bathroom and there, out of the corner of my eye to my right, behind the trashcan, was a pair of socks.
I decided to leave them there.
For two days they lay there. Finally I gave up and put them in the laundry. As I grumbled my way back downstairs from the laundry room, I scooped up my keys and went out to car to go to Jazzercise.
On the floor of my car, between the front seat, where two pair of my own athletic socks.
People who live in glass houses...
The other day I sat down in the downstairs bathroom and there, out of the corner of my eye to my right, behind the trashcan, was a pair of socks.
I decided to leave them there.
For two days they lay there. Finally I gave up and put them in the laundry. As I grumbled my way back downstairs from the laundry room, I scooped up my keys and went out to car to go to Jazzercise.
On the floor of my car, between the front seat, where two pair of my own athletic socks.
People who live in glass houses...
Monday, June 09, 2008
The Turnip is your friend
Listen to the dog barking in the background and then the abrupt end...is that a gunshot?
I Think Bear Saw the White Light
Some may think I was being overly dramatic, but I have to tell you I've seen many pets near death in my life (when in high school I helped out a veterinarian twice a week) and I'm quite certain I nearly lost my puppy last Tuesday.
We got up and walked at 5 a.m. Tuesday like we usually do. We were rounding the last leg of the block when Bear stopped to investigate what looked like a paper towel on the curb. He's a fast little devil and before I could yank him back he had it in his mouth. I snatched him up and stuck two fingers in his mouth to flick the object out. I had it in my grasp but he swallowed before I could get it out. He had some kind of slimy drool dripping from his lips. My thought was "egg... paper towel."
We continued on. About 20 or 30 feet later he started heaving and spit up something on the opposite curb. It was still dark and I didn't really stop to look at the item but it seemed like maybe he'd spit up as much as he'd taken in, so I was good. He was good.
But he wasn't. As we came around the corner toward our house he started slowing down and then finally plopped down. This? Never happens. He's still pretty much a puppy. Incidentally, it was his first birthday on Monday.
I got him into the house where he spread out on the tile floor and went still. Very, very still. His respiration slowed and his heartbeat slowed even more. I bent over him and tried to turn him over and he felt like molten lead. His eyes were glazing over and he really looked bad. It was 5:30 a.m.
I ran upstairs to put on clothes (I was pretty much wearing my pajama top and sweatpants) and told Bob I was going to rush Bear to Charlotte to the Veterinary ER. I didn't know exactly where it was, but had a general idea. He asked if he should come and I said "yes," but then it became obvious that he would want to brush his teeth and put on clothes. I told him I couldn't wait. He put Bear in the car next to me and I lit out.
I called Sarah as I drove down the road. She was fast asleep, but popped wide awake when I told her something was wrong with Bear. She told me where the clinic was. As I drove toward Charlotte, Bear didn't seem to be getting any worse, but he was not getting better, either. He was just lying there, eyes partially opened and still.
I turned onto Westinghouse and then onto Tryon and he suddenly sat up and looked around. As we pulled into the parking lot of the ER, I saw one vehicle there and it was lit up and unlocked. I carried him into the building, but he was not prone by this time. He was up, looking around, and I was carrying him upright with my hand between his front legs and on his chest. He seemed alert.
No one came to the desk when I entered. I wandered around the clinic, but did not go through the "Authorized Personnel Only" doors. I called "Hello? Hello?" several times. By this time Bear was wanting to get down. So I snatched one of their disposable rope leashes off a hook on the wall and walked him around more, still calling out. No response.
So we went back outside and wandered around on the grass, Bear acting completely normal and me watching his every move.
He seemed fine. I told him we'd go home and then see Dr. Curtsinger later if he was still not feeling well. He seemed to think that was a good idea, going over to the car and looking up at me to be put in.
And so we drove home.
He was fine the rest of the day, although pretty quiet. Especially considering we still had my parents and their dog, and sister Julia and nephew Jake all here. I took the day off. There was just too much stuff going on, with Bear and the visitors and Dad's brake problems. And Nate had an interview with the Leroy Springs Foundation about their loan program. Throughout the day Bear stuck close to me, but he does all the time, and I periodically looked at him and said, "I'm glad you're not dead."
The next day I went back to work. We had an all-day planning retreat off-site and at 4:45 Nate called and said, "I think we should take Bear to the vet. He's acting weird. He doesn't act happy to see me and he just lays there." So I told him to pile him in the car and drive straight up to Curtsinger. I'd meet him there. Nate walked in just as they were closing up shop, but they very cheerfully turned stuff back on and ushered him in.
They ran a bunch of bloodwork and determined he had no serious system issues. "He's quite depressed though," they said. "Definitely not our Bear." The final verdict was that whatever he ingested probably had irritated his esophagus and stomach. They gave him fluid under the skin to pep him up a bit and then a shot of something to sooth his gastrointestinal system.
Bear was back to normal in just a couple of hours and by the next morning he was is usual peppy self. Curtsinger's office called to ask about him and they were relieved to hear of his recovery. And here I will tell you: there is no reason that you can't have a vet that treats your pet like a valued member of the family. If your vet doesn't give you this kind of personal attention, then fire him or her.
We got up and walked at 5 a.m. Tuesday like we usually do. We were rounding the last leg of the block when Bear stopped to investigate what looked like a paper towel on the curb. He's a fast little devil and before I could yank him back he had it in his mouth. I snatched him up and stuck two fingers in his mouth to flick the object out. I had it in my grasp but he swallowed before I could get it out. He had some kind of slimy drool dripping from his lips. My thought was "egg... paper towel."
We continued on. About 20 or 30 feet later he started heaving and spit up something on the opposite curb. It was still dark and I didn't really stop to look at the item but it seemed like maybe he'd spit up as much as he'd taken in, so I was good. He was good.
But he wasn't. As we came around the corner toward our house he started slowing down and then finally plopped down. This? Never happens. He's still pretty much a puppy. Incidentally, it was his first birthday on Monday.
I got him into the house where he spread out on the tile floor and went still. Very, very still. His respiration slowed and his heartbeat slowed even more. I bent over him and tried to turn him over and he felt like molten lead. His eyes were glazing over and he really looked bad. It was 5:30 a.m.
I ran upstairs to put on clothes (I was pretty much wearing my pajama top and sweatpants) and told Bob I was going to rush Bear to Charlotte to the Veterinary ER. I didn't know exactly where it was, but had a general idea. He asked if he should come and I said "yes," but then it became obvious that he would want to brush his teeth and put on clothes. I told him I couldn't wait. He put Bear in the car next to me and I lit out.
I called Sarah as I drove down the road. She was fast asleep, but popped wide awake when I told her something was wrong with Bear. She told me where the clinic was. As I drove toward Charlotte, Bear didn't seem to be getting any worse, but he was not getting better, either. He was just lying there, eyes partially opened and still.
I turned onto Westinghouse and then onto Tryon and he suddenly sat up and looked around. As we pulled into the parking lot of the ER, I saw one vehicle there and it was lit up and unlocked. I carried him into the building, but he was not prone by this time. He was up, looking around, and I was carrying him upright with my hand between his front legs and on his chest. He seemed alert.
No one came to the desk when I entered. I wandered around the clinic, but did not go through the "Authorized Personnel Only" doors. I called "Hello? Hello?" several times. By this time Bear was wanting to get down. So I snatched one of their disposable rope leashes off a hook on the wall and walked him around more, still calling out. No response.
So we went back outside and wandered around on the grass, Bear acting completely normal and me watching his every move.
He seemed fine. I told him we'd go home and then see Dr. Curtsinger later if he was still not feeling well. He seemed to think that was a good idea, going over to the car and looking up at me to be put in.
And so we drove home.
He was fine the rest of the day, although pretty quiet. Especially considering we still had my parents and their dog, and sister Julia and nephew Jake all here. I took the day off. There was just too much stuff going on, with Bear and the visitors and Dad's brake problems. And Nate had an interview with the Leroy Springs Foundation about their loan program. Throughout the day Bear stuck close to me, but he does all the time, and I periodically looked at him and said, "I'm glad you're not dead."
The next day I went back to work. We had an all-day planning retreat off-site and at 4:45 Nate called and said, "I think we should take Bear to the vet. He's acting weird. He doesn't act happy to see me and he just lays there." So I told him to pile him in the car and drive straight up to Curtsinger. I'd meet him there. Nate walked in just as they were closing up shop, but they very cheerfully turned stuff back on and ushered him in.
They ran a bunch of bloodwork and determined he had no serious system issues. "He's quite depressed though," they said. "Definitely not our Bear." The final verdict was that whatever he ingested probably had irritated his esophagus and stomach. They gave him fluid under the skin to pep him up a bit and then a shot of something to sooth his gastrointestinal system.
Bear was back to normal in just a couple of hours and by the next morning he was is usual peppy self. Curtsinger's office called to ask about him and they were relieved to hear of his recovery. And here I will tell you: there is no reason that you can't have a vet that treats your pet like a valued member of the family. If your vet doesn't give you this kind of personal attention, then fire him or her.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
So. Where Was I?
Oh yeah.
Monday morning came and the lingering smoke from the night before had pretty much cleared. There was still a slight tinge of burned bean odor in the air, but for the most part things seemed pretty good. I went to work, arriving at 6:15 a.m. We do 4 10-hour days in the summer. I owe 2 weeks and a day to the district. But I'll be dragging those days out for a quite a while, as I planned to take a day or so here and there to visit with my sister and to work the primary election for Cassie.
Mom and Dad said good-bye to us Sunday night, planning to head out of their campground early Monday morning to begin the trek back home to Minnesota.
I started in with the post-school clean-up and shut-down. This necessitates quite a bit of running around the building and also a lot of file-shuffling in our records vault. The vault is nice. It's quiet and there are no phones in there. Unfortunately, there is no cellular signal in there, either. So whenever I've been in there a while, I go back to my desk to check my cell and my desk phone to see if there were calls.
At 8:30 I happened to be at my desk when my cell rang. It was Dad. "We are at Food Lion," he said. "The brakes aren't working on the camper. Do you think your mechanic can help us?"
I called Derek Patterson and told his receptionist the situation. They said they'd take Dad right away and I knew if they couldn't fix the problem, they'd get him to the right place. So I sent Dad up the road about a mile and went back to the vault.
A couple of hours later I checked messages and had one from Dad saying they were stuck at the mechanic and couldn't get back to our house. They needed a ride and couldn't find Nate. The message was 2 hours old. Hmmm. So I called and they had finally found him and were back at my house. They needed to take it to an RV repair place in Charlotte and didn't have a way to get it up there. So called my friend Steve, who is a home handyman. He was around and they did some more diagnosing and testing. Mom and Dad ended up staying until Wednesday morning getting it all done.
During all this time I was getting text messages from Julia saying they were stuck at the airport in Minneapolis. Needed a new plane. Then needed flight attendants. I never understand why flight attendants can't just go to the new plane with the passengers. I told her not to worry about being late getting here...I'd given her bed to Mom and Dad!
So as you can imagine Monday night was pretty chaotic. Everyone was here and I don't even remember what we fed them all. I'm glad Mom and Dad stayed a couple of days. They hadn't seen Julia since February, so they caught up a bit.
Tuesday morning, however, I had an emergency with Bear that really shook me up for a while.
Monday morning came and the lingering smoke from the night before had pretty much cleared. There was still a slight tinge of burned bean odor in the air, but for the most part things seemed pretty good. I went to work, arriving at 6:15 a.m. We do 4 10-hour days in the summer. I owe 2 weeks and a day to the district. But I'll be dragging those days out for a quite a while, as I planned to take a day or so here and there to visit with my sister and to work the primary election for Cassie.
Mom and Dad said good-bye to us Sunday night, planning to head out of their campground early Monday morning to begin the trek back home to Minnesota.
I started in with the post-school clean-up and shut-down. This necessitates quite a bit of running around the building and also a lot of file-shuffling in our records vault. The vault is nice. It's quiet and there are no phones in there. Unfortunately, there is no cellular signal in there, either. So whenever I've been in there a while, I go back to my desk to check my cell and my desk phone to see if there were calls.
At 8:30 I happened to be at my desk when my cell rang. It was Dad. "We are at Food Lion," he said. "The brakes aren't working on the camper. Do you think your mechanic can help us?"
I called Derek Patterson and told his receptionist the situation. They said they'd take Dad right away and I knew if they couldn't fix the problem, they'd get him to the right place. So I sent Dad up the road about a mile and went back to the vault.
A couple of hours later I checked messages and had one from Dad saying they were stuck at the mechanic and couldn't get back to our house. They needed a ride and couldn't find Nate. The message was 2 hours old. Hmmm. So I called and they had finally found him and were back at my house. They needed to take it to an RV repair place in Charlotte and didn't have a way to get it up there. So called my friend Steve, who is a home handyman. He was around and they did some more diagnosing and testing. Mom and Dad ended up staying until Wednesday morning getting it all done.
During all this time I was getting text messages from Julia saying they were stuck at the airport in Minneapolis. Needed a new plane. Then needed flight attendants. I never understand why flight attendants can't just go to the new plane with the passengers. I told her not to worry about being late getting here...I'd given her bed to Mom and Dad!
So as you can imagine Monday night was pretty chaotic. Everyone was here and I don't even remember what we fed them all. I'm glad Mom and Dad stayed a couple of days. They hadn't seen Julia since February, so they caught up a bit.
Tuesday morning, however, I had an emergency with Bear that really shook me up for a while.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
A Night to Remember
So. The party has ended. The people had all gone home. Mensa Boy and I were tidying up as much as we are willing to, when I said "I think I'll clean the oven."
I checked in there. Nothing had been left. It was dirty, but seemed okay to go. So I shut the door and hit "Clean."
After 20 minutes, black sooty smoke began pouring from the oven vents. Mensa Boy was starting to get extremely nervous and was opening windows and setting up the fan to blow the smoke out the kitchen window.
After another 10 minutes, we started to worry that the smoke was getting thicker and was very acrid. It seemed somewhat toxic. All I could really tell MB was that it would have to burn off. The other alternative would have been to cut power to the kitchen. So we decided to wait a few minutes more.
Finally after a total of about 45 minutes, the smoke seemed to be stopping. But we still had a lot in the air downstairs. And it really reeked pretty bad. I was worried enough that I wondered if we might sustain smoke damage to the furniture.
But the fire/smoke thing turned out to be just the beginning of a series of events that would keep us on edge for a couple of days. Stay tuned.
I checked in there. Nothing had been left. It was dirty, but seemed okay to go. So I shut the door and hit "Clean."
After 20 minutes, black sooty smoke began pouring from the oven vents. Mensa Boy was starting to get extremely nervous and was opening windows and setting up the fan to blow the smoke out the kitchen window.
After another 10 minutes, we started to worry that the smoke was getting thicker and was very acrid. It seemed somewhat toxic. All I could really tell MB was that it would have to burn off. The other alternative would have been to cut power to the kitchen. So we decided to wait a few minutes more.
Finally after a total of about 45 minutes, the smoke seemed to be stopping. But we still had a lot in the air downstairs. And it really reeked pretty bad. I was worried enough that I wondered if we might sustain smoke damage to the furniture.
But the fire/smoke thing turned out to be just the beginning of a series of events that would keep us on edge for a couple of days. Stay tuned.
It's all OVER!
The boy is graduated, the party has been thrown. Thank you notes are the next thing on the agenda. I thought the red eye on this photo was just too humorous to correct!
Graduation was Friday afternoon at Winthrop Coliseum. The venue was really too large for a small school like ours (only 100 graduates), but it was pretty with all the red of the Winthrop Eagles basketball team, and the setup really seemed intimate. I liked it better than the auditorium we've used in years past, which has always seemed dark, run-down and haunted. But the coliseum cost us $3000 more too.
Nate looked quite mature and calm during the ceremony, which went off without a hitch. I was more nervous about the ceremony than I was about Nate graduating. I was in charge of the diplomas and I think I checked them something like 11 times to be sure they were laid out on the table in the correct order and that we had one for each graduate. We had a graduate decline to participate the day before the ceremony, and another show up unexpectedly, so there was much shifting of seating arrangements and all that.
After commencement we all went to Olive Garden for a great meal. Nate's girlfriend Erin came with us, as did Tony. Olive Garden does very well with service for large groups, which I find remarkable considering that they don't take reservations.
Then Mom and I popped over to some shops to see if I could find crops and tees to wear for the open house Sunday. That was harder than I thought. I had a hard time finding crops in my size at all of the stores we were in.
Saturday was errand day and prep for the event. It was blistering hot too, which made me worry a bit about it being too hot for the party the next day.
Sunday we did the church thing and I had the beans baking all day. We retrieved 5 huge trays of bbq pork from the fire department cooler, along with 1 1/2 gallons of sauce. I think the biggest stressor was worrying about how to get the right amounts heated up to serve and how to keep the rest safely cool. Mom made a big batch of cole slaw from the recipe I managed to get from the Masonic Lodge...the only cole slaw I've ever had that I like.
The afternoon clouded up and we had some lightning for a few minutes. But by 3 or 3:30 it all looked good. So we scattered tables and chairs around the back yard and people started pouring in around 5.
Altogether we had more than 60 folks here. I only know this because I bought 60 cups and we had 2 left. But I know there were more because the posse showed up with wine around 6:30 and we used wine glasses. And there were some graduates here, who got special "Class of 2008" glasses I had for them.
The real action happened after the party. Tune back in for details. I promise, the blog will be updated more regularly now. Really.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Burnett Garden
Yes, we're still alive. Nate will graduate on Friday, if I let him live that long. Mensa Boy seems to have JUST ABOUT conquered influenza. Taylor and I are just coasting along...he's primarily on poop patrol, I'm shopping and planning for the open house on Sunday.
But today I got to go to June Burnett's house and take photos of her garden for the newspaper. She and her garden will be in Southern Living magazine in July and our papers want to write a story about the story. Delightful lady, beautiful home. Mom and I went and spent 90 minutes with her walking around and talking plants and trees and shrubs and cats.
But today I got to go to June Burnett's house and take photos of her garden for the newspaper. She and her garden will be in Southern Living magazine in July and our papers want to write a story about the story. Delightful lady, beautiful home. Mom and I went and spent 90 minutes with her walking around and talking plants and trees and shrubs and cats.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)