Hang on, it's going to be a bumpy ride...

My day started last night and... well... I wouldn't say it's gotten worse from there but it sure has had some high points, some low points, some terrifying points, some surreal points and some paranoid points.

I finally got to bed last night around 11:30pm. Notice I didn't say I got to SLEEP at that time. Sleep did not come for me until almost one o'clock in the morning.

Wait... let me back up a few days and fill in some important historical detail. You'll recall that my GP diagnosed me with Trigeminal Neuralgia and prescribed medication. It was shortly after taking one of these medications on Wednesday night that I started to feel ill. The room began to get colder and my muscles started to ache from the chill. The thermometer confirmed it, I was sick.

By the time I went to bed Wednesday, my fever had topped out at 101.5, Tylenol wasn't touching it, I had a monster headache, a stuffed-up head, and two layers of clothing and a down comforter were all that were staving off the chills.

Now, you would think that, after a flu shot and a round of anti-viral drugs, I wouldn't get the flu but that sure is what it felt like.

Thursday morning, the doctor said it was a sinus infection and prescribed antibiotics, cough medicine and fluids.

To sum it up, I was suddenly taking even more pills and I felt much worse for it. I had even bruised my ribs and pulled muscles in my back from coughing so much.

To my benefit, I have a boss who cares about me. It may be that he was just tired of doing my work but I know different. Ron called me Thursday evening and offered to bring over this homeopathic blend of apple cider vinegar, garlic, garlic juice, a couple kinds of tree bark extracts and some other herbs I can't remember called Anti-PLG, also known as Anti-Plague. I would link to it because you can apparently purchase it but there does not appear to be a single manufacturer. You can find several recipes on the web to mix your own, including one that instructs you to begin the mixture at the next full moon.

Damned if this stuff didn't kick the ass of whatever it is I have. By late Friday morning the fever had all but broken and my head no longer felt like my brains were going to explode out the top.

By now, my mind has taken circumstantial coincidence and come up with 2+2=5 for substantially large values of two. Because this thing kicked off shortly after taking my latest dose of a new medicine (the anti-convulsant), I stopped taking it in the paranoid and probably irrational thought that it somehow allowed me to get sick... this will become important later.

Now let's get back to where the story began... Sleep did not come for me until almost one o'clock in the morning on Saturday morning. Because of the congestion from the cold/flu/sinus infection, the soreness from coughing and fatigue of clearing up some last minute errands, I could not get comfortable enough to sleep.

Our flight on Saturday is scheduled to leave the Tulsa airport (a little over an hour away) at 6:05am. We have decided to get up at 3am. By 12:30am, I'm getting a little frustrated that sleep will not come.

I realized most of my discomfort was from the sore muscles. I began to wonder where my menthol sports rub might be hiding when I come to a realization: Medicinal chest rubs are menthol-based. I KNOW where the chest rub is. To my delight, slathering my lower rib cage with chest rub relaxes everything enough to get me a couple of hours of sleep.

We made our flight in time... just and I commented to Shelly that the flight was not entirely unpleasant, considering that I had a "sinus infection". It was shortly after making this comment that I realized that the problems usually appear during descent. I had some trouble with a feeling that someone was trying to poke holes in my ears with an ice pick but it was tollerable.

The second leg of the flight was the real problem. I think I got a feel for just how bad Trigeminal Neuralgia can be.

During our descent into Reagan National airport, I got a sudden, searing, burning pain in the space between the top of my left eye and my brow ridge. On a pain scale of 1 to 10, this was a 15. I have never felt anything so sudden, intense or excruciating. I would seriously have gladly dug my left eye out of its socket with my bare hands if I thought it would have helped. I could do nothing to stop it. If I rubbed it, it would abate for about a second, then the rubbing would fuel the fire. The best I could do was hold my hand over my eye and cry, writhing in pain. It lasted less than a minute but it didn't matter. I spent the rest of the descent fearing that it would happen again.

Not knowing enough about the disorder or the nerve itself, I cannot tell you if this was a Trigeminal Neuralgia episode but I imagine it was based on the "most painful afliction known to modern medicine" description.

It's getting late and I'm very tired. You'll understand more why when I explain to you about:
Taking a picture of the airport... the outside of the airport
Getting to the hotel - a lucky break
Checking into the hotel (this was a good point)
Eating a Krabby Patty
Special deliveries
Our trip to Pentagon City shopping center
The power of cheese
What, no crackers?
Camomille tea
Who the hell closes a mall at 6pm?
No soup (supper) for you! - At least, not without a 19% service charge, $2 delivery charge and tip
Late-night hot chocolate

And keep in mind, we didn't land until almost noon.

Life lessons from a pickup truck

For the first time in my life, I own a pickup truck. When I bought my truck, I didn't go half way. I bought a full-size, extended-cab, long-bed Chevrolet pickup with a 290-some horsepower 5.3 liter V8 engine.

Anyone who has ever owned a pickup or even driven one for any length of time will understand what I'm about to say. For the uninitiated, I'll explain.

Most, if not all, pickup trucks are rear wheel drive. By design, all pickup trucks have little or no weight in the back - unless, of course, you're hauling something. This creates some interesting physics issues, especially when it's raining or the streets are otherwise slick.

It was raining this morning as I drove to work and, as I often do, I spun the back tires as I began to move after the light turned green. I have never owned a vehicle with a V8 and this one, as explained above, has a learning curve.

As I continued my drive to work and my efforts to keep my rear wheels moving me forward, I realized a pickup truck could teach us all at least two valuable life lessons.

Even when the street is not slick from water or ice, you can easily spin the tires if you give the engine too much power when starting from a stop. (I did it when I test-drove the truck.) In addition, even if you start without laying some rubber, you have to finesse the truck up to speed before you gun it. If not, you run the risk of spinning the tires again.

So, here is what I learned.

1. Just because you have power, doesn't mean you have to, or even can, use it.

2. When you have power, know when and how to use it effectively.

Do we really hate the French that much?

Here's something I don't get... French dressing. Not fashion styles, I'm talking about salad dressing. Why don't I get French dressing? Because there's at least three different kinds of salad dressing you can call French dressing. There's red French, orange French and Catalina style.

With this identity crisis firmly in place in American society, you never know quite exactly what you're going to get when you order French dressing on your salad. Some people ask - "Is it red French or orange French?"

There is no other salad dressing for which this is necessary!!

Ranch dressing is always white and you never see anyone asking if the thousand island has only 750 islands.

I suppose this confusion is why it is now near impossible to get French dressing on a salad from a restaurant. Either that or the restaurant industry was really pissed about that deck of cards thing.

I'm so confused

It's 3am and I hurt. The once-a-day anti-inflamatory obviously wore off after 12 hours.

I decided to see if I could find information on temporary relief, such as heat or cold, to use while waiting for the Tylenol I took 20 minutes ago to kick in (it still hasn't). Now I'm confused. I wonder if maybe I didn't describe the pain correctly or if maybe this isn't the right diagnosis.

Everything I am reading says TN is an excruciating pain that is often described as like an electric shock. If that's true, someone is holding the electrode against my nerve. I have a constant, intense pain. It doesn't throb and it doesn't feel all wiggly like an electrical impulse.

Of course, I've seen one posting where someone described it as a constant pain - which mine is if some sort of pain reliever or NSAID is not in effect. It seems hard to pin down because one site says "One typical feature of TN is that it is rarely typical. For many TN patients, the condition does not conform to the symptoms of 'classic' TN."

Funny thing is, I wouldn't describe this as facial pain... I'd describe it as jaw pain. It feels like someone has a vice wrapped around my teeth. I originally thought it was sinus pain because during past experiences with sinus infections I often have tooth pain (although not as intense).

I'll have to see how the anti-convulsant works, if at all. The pharmacy was out and I have to go pick it up this afternoon.

Okay - it's 15 minutes later and the single Tylenol hasn't kicked in... time for a second.

OUCH!!!!

After fighting a couple more days with the pain, I finally went to my family doctor. From what I could feel, I couldn't decide if the tooth was irritating my sinuses or the other way around. After examining me, he surmised the pain was due to Trigeminal Neuralgia. According to the site linked by the words in the previous sentence, TN "is universally considered to be the most painful affliction known to medical practice."

According to another site, TN can be caused by "Physical damage to the nerve caused by dental or surgical procedures, injury to the face or infections." Sounds about right. I think the dentist struck a nerve.

The Dr. has put me on an extended relief anti-inflamatory, an anti-viral agent, and an anti-convulsive. That should do it. I should be able to return to work tomorrow and, hopefully, have some semblance of a normal day.

From what I've seen on the web, TN is rare but it appears to be chronic. I only hope I'm in it for the short-haul due to trauma and my Trgeminal nerve will settle down in short order.

Veterans, I salute you!

Let me start by saying thank you to all of those in the military that make it possible for me to live where I live and for me to be able to choose to do what I choose to do, etc.

God, Bless America!

I'd also like to say Happy Birthday to my best bud Bill. What are you now, 50, 60? :-)
(I know you'll get me back somehow)

While we're handing out Kudos, I'd like to take this opportunity to tell everyone I can think of what they really mean to me...

Dad - You're awesome. I can't imagine growing up without your guidance and your love. The Colorado trip was unforgettable.

Mom - You're the tops. I know you kept this family going while we were growing up and you still do. I don't know how you manage but I'm glad you do. I can only hope to come close to following your example.

Bill - You've been with me through so much. I glad to know you're there even if I don't always show it.

Steve Raulie - Dude, you're a rock. Dependable to the core. I hope I can someday repay all that you've given me.

Estee - I've always fared better and walked a straighter line with someone looking after me. Thank you for all of the prayers. God bless you.

Eric - We click on so many levels and yet we're very different. The funny thing is I know we could be seperated for years and it would be like we just saw each other yesterday when our paths meet again. Your friendship means a lot to me.

Dan - I've already told you this but I respect you. I respect you a lot. You have so much to teach and I have so much to learn. Thank you for your wisdom and your willingness to lead.

Ron - I am humbled that you consider me your right-hand man. It means a lot to mean that much to someone. I'd walk through fire for you and follow you to the ends of the Earth.

Mary - Thanks for being a big sister and watching out for me.

To all of you on which I can depend, especially my family, remember there is nothing that together we cannot face.

The drill of dental work, the agony of the teeth

Oh, thank God! Just as I started typing this, the hydrocodone started kicking in. My tooth is feeling much better already... But you'll forgive me if I go astray.

On Thursday I had a temporary crown put on one of my molars. While he was working, the dentist told me he was very close to the nerve and I may have trouble with it.

Friday morning, I was in his office asking if the pain was normal. He wasn't in yet so I discussed it with him about an hour later when he called me. We decided it could be post-procedure irritation. He called in a couple of prescriptions and told me to keep an eye on it. I was taking two Tylenol about every 3 hours.

Saturday came and the three hours stretched into 6-8 hours. Things were getting better. Maybe it was just irritation.

By Sunday evening, I filled the prescriptions. I started taking the antibiotic and the hydrocodone. At 4am Monday, I decided I wasn't going to make it into work. At 8am Monday, I called his office and set an appointment for the afternoon. I hung up the phone, took another antibiotic and painkiller, then went to sleep.

Just before my appointment, I took regular Tylenol and another antibiotic and had lunch. The Dr. tapped and prodded the tooth a bit but, since I didn't jump out of the chair using my butt muscles, he didn't do anything at that point.

He told me to stop taking the antibiotic. Sensing my confusion, he explained, with the help of some handy dental graphics, that the antibiotic would clear up the infection at the base (prongs) of the tooth, giving relief, but wouldn't be able to reach the source of the problem.

Unfortunately, my 2am pain is speaking two words to me... Root canal.

ouch.

Can you believe it!?

I was reading the October 24 issue of Entertainment Weekly and found something interesting in a sidebar titled “Curses!” It said “On Oct. 3, the FCC had ruled that U2’s Bono didn’t violate federal indecency standards when he blurted ‘f---ing brilliant’ during the live NBC broadcast of January’s Golden Globes…”

How on earth do you get away with that!!??

Well, apparently, the F-word really is quite versatile* because the FCC said Bono wasn’t describing “sexual or excretory organs or activities.”

[*CAUTION: the link above contains explicit language]

Based on that ruling, I’ve made the following table – as a public service – to show you some of the phrases you may now begin hearing on television.

Stuff you might hear	Stuff you won't hear
I don't f---ing believe it.	F--- you!
That was f---ing stupid	So, you wanna f---?
	Go f--- yourself

The phrase “f--- this“ would probably still be open to interpretation.

Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most.

I began thinking the other day, a proposition dangerous in and of itself, about things that used to be. At one point I wrote about things that didn’t used to be, like the compact disc player and the IBM PC, and I started thinking of all of those things that I grew up with that no longer exist… here is a list of some of those.

The first thing that came to mind was Styrofoam fast food containers. Whenever you went to your local burger joint, the hamburger came to you in a Styrofoam container similar to those you currently receive as a to-go box at a sit-down restaurant. The irony of that last statement is that the burger containers were done away with for ecological reasons. The containers were filling up landfills (we called ‘em trash dumps when I was growing up) and someone figured out they take hundreds of years to decompose. Under public pressure, the major chains eventually started using more Earth-friendly materials.

Why I miss them: Styrofoam burger containers are the perfect container in which to dump an order of French fries with ketchup on the side. It was the ideal serving container. Your burger rested comfortably in the bottom portion and, once the container was opened, the fries could be contained in the top portion. The beauty of the container was that you could put your ketchup in a corner of the container and the foam wouldn’t absorb any of it. You could savor every drop that came out of the little packet (that you didn’t even have to ask for – they just gave it to you).

Speaking of French fries, I really miss the fries that McDonald’s used to make. These were the pinnacle of French fries: Always golden brown, always crispy and always salted. According to some sources their crispiness was achieved by soaking the potatoes in a sugar water solution prior to freezing them for shipment to the restaurants. Of course, the increase in health consciousness got rid of the sugar and the salt – but left the fat from frying, go fig.

Side note while we’re on the subject of French fries: Why is it that when you ask for ketchup and salt you get ten packages of salt and two packages of ketchup for super-size fries?

Next on the list is trading card bubble gum. Back in the day when trading cards were just that – not part of a game – you used to get a plank of bubble gum with every pack of cards. The gum was about as thick as a standard piece of chewing gum, about twice as wide, and about a third longer. This stuff was specially formulated, or aged, perhaps, so that it wouldn’t melt, soften or bend during shipment. It was pink, like bubble gum should be, but was coated in a powdery substance, that we always assumed was sugar, that kept it dry which kept it from sticking to the cards. I don’t know how, or why, we ever chewed this stuff but it was pretty much the second most exciting part of getting a pack of trading cards – the first was finding a rare card.

I also remember soda can pull tabs. These things were a lawsuit waiting to happen. These days, you pop the tab and it pushes a section of the top into the can. The whole thing stays intact. Back in the day, pulling the tab released the pressure by creating a small opening at the apex of a teardrop-shaped section of the top. In order to open the can, you had to pull the ring and physically separate the teardrop-shaped tab from the can. The drawbacks? First, the tabs were sharp – not a good thing in the hands of a child. What ultimately took them off the market were the beer-swilling idiots who would pop the top then drop it into the can prior to consuming the liquid. Often enough, these Darwin award candidates would swallow the tab and choke to death.

While we’re talking about beer, does anyone remember Billy beer? Somehow Billy Carter, the brother of former President Jimmy Carter, started marketing his own brand of beer. The only reason anyone paid attention was because he was the brother of the President. From what I understand, the beer wasn’t that good and the only people who supported Billy’s efforts were beer can collectors, who knew billy beer was just a flash in the pan, and those that couldn’t afford cheap beer.

The idea of cheap beer leads me into thinking about generic products. Generic products were like off-brand or store-brand products in that they were less expensive but they went far beyond that. From beer to cigarettes to canned goods, generic products were labeled with white labels with nothing more than the product name (i.e. “beer” or “green beans”) and a UPC symbol.

Here’s the rest of the list:

Audio pagers - These little gems work on the same principle as modern pagers. A radio signal reaches them and they beep. Of course, this was before the advent of LCD technology (odd that I’m talking about this while working on a laptop… which uses an LCD for the display). Instead of displaying a number or text message (there was nothing on which to display a number or message), the caller would talk and the audio message would be transmitted to the pager. This could be disconcerting, especially if you’re concentrating intensely on something when they go off.

Let me set the scene for you. It’s Halloween. I’m home by myself. Unbeknownst to me, my mother has left her pager on the charging stand with the power on. I found a horror movie on cable and decided to really get into it by turning out all of the lights and moving a chair in direct line with the television. I’m about an hour and a half into the movie (Halloween, I think it was) – right as a major plot point is occurring. The killer is on the loose, several people have already died, the phones are out of order, the lights have been smashed except for one or two that cling to life giving off flickers and sparks. I lean forward in my chair, inching forward, caught up in the intensity of the movie.

Have you ever seen that cartoon where the mouse sneaks up behind the cat, blows up a paper bag and pops it? Do you remember what happens to the cat?

I lean forward in my chair, inching forward, caught up in the intensity of the movie...

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

I became the cat.

I finally relaxed enough to come off the ceiling when the voice came over the pager asking my mother to call the lab… It was a good thing I had just gone to the bathroom.

Penny candy – That’s right, kids. You could buy candy for a penny a piece. Mostly it was bubble gum, usually out of a gumball machine but sometimes from the counter in bulk but they were a penny each. This, to a child, was the reason pennies were made. The value of a dollar was 100 pieces of gum.

Dick & Jane books – For millions of American children, this is how we learned to read. They were simple stories of Dick, Jane and their dog, Spot. See Dick. See Jane. See Dick and Jane. See Spot. See Spot chew on Dick’s shoe… Bad Spot. No biscuit.

Tab – These days you have diet Pepsi, diet Coke, diet Dr. Pepper, diet Sprite, diet root beer, and even diet Shasta. Before all of these choices you had… Tab. Tab was it. If you wanted a sugar free cola, you drank Tab. And God saw that it was Tab and said that it was Tab and it was AWFUL!

On the flip side, there was Jolt cola. In the early/mid eighties, before the health nuts decided that caffeine and sugar were really bad things, someone came up with a cola for the college student in all of us. Jolt cola was advertised as having all of the sugar and twice the caffeine as regular cola. A six-pack of this stuff could give a comatose person the jitters. [side note: while putting together the links for this entry I discovered Jolt is still around.]

Stretch Armstrong – Stretch Armstrong was a… I hesitate to say doll… he was a toy that looked like a bodybuilder. The hook was that he was made of rubber and filled with some sort of gel and he stretched. He stretched a long way. He would eventually, as many a young male child discovered, break.

Tonka trucks made of metal – Yes, you heard me right, Tonka trucks used to be made of metal. Good, old-fashioned, American sheet metal. There were no safety concerns that caused the change to heavy plastic. It was a simple decision of economics. I used to have a very large Tonka dump truck that I used to ride down our driveway. I eventually sold it in a garage sale and either some kid is still playing with it or it’s been added to a collection.

8-track tapes – Thank God these are extinct. Although, 8-tracks are responsible for auto-reverse technology in cassette decks. The width of the tape was divided into four sections of two tracks (left and right) each. Each alternating section was recorded in reverse of the previous. You could change sections but there was no fast-forward or rewind.

Finally, there’s canned motor oil. Oil didn’t always come packaged in a convenient, re-sealable, easy-pour plastic bottle. It used to be packaged in a round can made of coated paper with a metal top and base. You could use a standard can opener – the pointy kind that punches a hole, not the kind that cuts the top off - (which is becoming an extinct product in and of itself) but that tended to be very messy when trying to pour. To make it easier to pour, you could buy an oil spout. These were metal spouts, about 6-8 inches long, that had a pointy bit on the back end that you would slam into the top of the can to open it.

Trust me, the plastic ones are much easier.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this trip down memory lane, or history lesson depending on your perspective. Stay tuned because you never know when another bizarre idea will hit me.

It's been one week since you looked at me

Okay, so I'm still on the musical theme.

[Side note: Those of you playing at home will notice that certain entries will start to fill in between this one and the entry from 10 days ago. I wrote all of the fishing trip entries while in Colorado and I'm posting them with altered dates and times to make it look like I posted them when I wrote them.]

Today is the last day of the first week of work after spending a week not working.
"...love a wealthy woman and the pretty plane she flies. If you think this sounds confusing you should see it through my eyes." -- Jimmy Buffett

Today is also Halloween --- BOO!!

The week went alright but I'm drowning in trouble tickets. I have one ticket I can knock out in about five minutes but it arrived late in the day while I was already involved in something else. I have two or three that await a response from the caller. The other five or so are waiting for someone else to do something. I was promised that I would be taken care of today but it didn't happen.

I don't blame the people that I need help from. They're GREAT people!! My relationship with them is pretty much "ask and ye shall receive." The problem is that their supervisors and directors have them so tied up with so many facets of so many projects that they have no time to do their work. I actually got a response from one of them a couple of weeks ago that was time-stamped MIDNIGHT!! That's just wrong - these guys have families.

I was assured that the biggest part of the biggest project is over and they'll have more time to devote to the day-to-day operations. I certainly hope so or we're going to have some pretty pissed-off clients... some of them are there already.

====================================

The weather is starting to cool off a bit here in Oklahoma. My asthma is starting to remind me that it's there (it's aggravated by cold --- and priming without a mask last summer wasn't helpful, either) but I think I may have the beginnings of bronchitis. I've been getting into some heavy coughing fits and that whole tight chest thing.

Geez, I feel like a little old man that can't help but complain about everything.

[read the following with a raspy old man voice playing in your head]
Oy, I tell ya, I hate the cold. My asthma is starting to bother me - it's so hard to breathe.
And work! Don' get me started about work! I start out da day with ten tings on my list, get them all done, and finish the day with eleven. It never ends. ... Dat place is gonna be da death of me.

My goodness, when did I turn jewish!!??

For those of you in the studio audience, it's late and our host is beginning to ramble. Let's see if we can give him the universal hang signal for "Where the hell are you going with this? Can we get back on track, here? The sponsors are starting to call."

Where was I? Oh, yeah, the weather is starting to get colder. Despite my little-old-jewish-man tirade up there, I like the cold. First of all, I sweat... A LOT. The cold is my time to be unsweaty.

[blech! Can you believe he's talking about that? Move on!]

SUBJECT CHANGE!!!!!

I came home from my fishing trip to find the lot between our house and our neighbor had been leveled. The grass I used to mow to keep the lot looking presentable was now a smoothed out section of dirt. According to my wife, this happened last Saturday. Both of us figured they were going to list the lot with the promise of a custom home. With the weather turning colder and precipitation chances (do you like how I worked that in there?) increasing, we figured they wouldn't be able to pour the concrete, etc.

When we came home from work on Monday night, we discovered we had it wrong. On the lot there was a roughly house-shaped trench dug about 3-feet down into the lot and it had re-bar standing in it. Oh, so... I guess they are building a house. Today, they poured concrete into the trench. I had this irresistable urge to sign my name in the obviously still-wet cement... but I didn't.

I'll keep you posted on the progress.

Upcoming events include the Bedlam football game (between OKLAHOMA STATE UNIVERSITY!! and the university of oklahoma) tomorrow at 2:30pm, a salute to Rogers and Hamerstein by the Lyric Theater Saturday night, and having a crown put on one of my teeth (that starts Thursday).

Be sure to join our intrepid (what does that mean, anyway?) hero next time... same BAT time, same BAT channel!

On The Road Again

This morning we packed up our gear, gathered the trash in the condo, ran the dishwasher and headed out for KC. The trip took eleven hours, thirty-seven minutes and 48 seconds according to the stopwatch on my watch. This included meals, construction delays and ARVs (Average Restroom Visits).

Most exciting was just as we came off highway 40 onto I-70 just off Berthoud Pass. As we were heading into Downieville we saw what looked to be a couple of female elk standing in the road. As we got closer, I realized they were longhorn sheep.

Dad pulled over and I grabbed the digital camera and the camcorder. As I was taking some video, I saw a couple of other longhorns off the side of the road. I watched them cross the road and start up the mountain then realized there were more on the mountain. By the time all was said and done, dad counted ten long horn sheep, including an alpha male of the herd with horns curling under almost to his ears.

The wildlife we saw in Colorado was now as complete as it was going to get. We saw chipmunks, a pika, male and female elk and longhorn sheep.

The rest of the ride home was chattier than the drive up but was mostly superficial. We talked about the trip, birds, music, movies dad has never seen but I think he needs to (the list includes Office Space, Real Genius, and Grosse Point Blank), and idiots who try to drive and read a book at the same time.

When we got to the house, mom already had a big pot of her family-favorite chili on the table. The four grandsons were down visiting their dad (my brother) so mom made something simple that dad and I could easily warm up in the microwave if we needed to.

I’m heading home tomorrow after helping dad get his computer back up and running. I’m looking forward to seeing Shelly, whom I miss very much at the moment.

And so ends the saga of the Great Father-Son Colorado Fishing Trip.

Take it Easy

Today was a day off from taking a day off. Except for visiting one of the local gold mines, we really didn’t have anything planned and it was great. No clock, no schedule, no specific destination… pure freedom.

We started out the day going to the Phoenix Mine in Idaho Springs. I had wanted to visit one of the mines all week but we never had time at the end of the day. Today, we went.

The mine tour was kinda short. It took about 45 minutes and we didn’t really go too far into the mine but it was fun. I now know why gold costs so much… it’s damn hard to extract. From one ton of rock (not ore), they generally extract less than half an ounce of gold.

During the tour, we learned a bit of geology, a bit of mining history, and a bit of economics. Even though the Phoenix is advertised as a working mine, our guide preferred to call it a “workable” mine. Despite the presence of some very rich veins, the price of gold is too low at the moment to make it worth their while to mine it.

We also learned about the different minerals that are extracted in addition to gold. Within the veins, you might also find iron, copper, and the stuff used in solar collectors (I don’t remember what it’s called).

Once the tour was over, I panned for gold in their half mile of streambed. I enjoyed doing it and I found some gold-colored flakes (they were most likely mica), saved some sparkly sand from the bottom of one of the pans, and found a few chunks of minerals like quartz and other pretty things. The most fun part, though, was listening to the tour group of grade-schoolers.

When we arrived, a large group of children were going through the mine tour in small groups. The rest were playing in the stream. I say they were playing rather than panning because I listened to several elated exclamations about finding silver, pretty rocks and even a diamond (there was an argument over that one… “Look! I found a diamond.” “That’s not a diamond.” “Yes it is.” “No, it’s not.” “You don’t know!”). One group of three or four youngsters were even setting up their own mine right there on the stream.

I sifted four or five panfuls of sand and rock and decided that was enough.

When we left the mine, we went back into Idaho Springs. We drove around a bit and decided to go up the road to Georgetown.

Georgetown was fun. I took dad into the End Of The Line soda fountain and gift shop. It’s a fun little store and the owner is nice. We bought a couple of T-Shirts then went next door to The Rock Shop. I’m not into collecting geodes but it’s interesting to browse through their shop and look at all the pretty rocks.

After The Rock Shop, we stopped in at The Trading Post. Dad found a gift for mom and I browsed through the hats. I don’t know why I developed a recent affinity for hats. I used to hate hats (this is all, of course, excluding baseball caps). I didn’t like the way they looked on me. Maybe my facial structure has changed but about 18 months ago I was wandering through Wal-Mart at 2am (why I was there at 2am is a whole other story that you’ll probably never hear) and found this brown, felt hat. This was doubly odd because, not only did I not used to like hats, I really didn’t like brown hats. I even went so far as to buy an official Indiana Jones fedora in grey because I didn’t like brown (I didn’t care so much what the hat looked like at the time because it was an Indiana Jones Stetson – I think it looks good now, though).

Anyway, I tried on this brown, soft felt hat and really liked the way it looked… so I plunked down the $26.00 to buy it. My wife was not too pleased but allowed me the indulgence. She’s adjusted to it because I use it during cold and inclement weather. A couple of weeks ago, when I brought home the new, black, rigid wool cowboy hat, she wasn’t too pleased about the $23.00 for a hat and she thought it was silly that I had suddenly become enamored with hats but she let me keep it.

There is a point to this whole story and here it is. While I was in The Trading Post, I looked at a couple of hats I liked. I knew I couldn’t afford another hat and was 99.999% sure I couldn’t get away with buying two hats in the same month. When I looked at the $39.95 price tag, I became 100% sure.

In discussing this with dad, I discovered another parallel. He likes hats, too… and mom would kill him if he bought another.

After Grandview, we ended up in Silverthorne. Silverthorne is a more affluent town than Idaho Springs or Grandview mostly due to its proximity to three different ski resorts and the presence of a large outlet mall.

We stopped for a late lunch/early dinner and decided to head up highway 9 rather than going back over Berthoud pass to get back to Fraser. As we have most of the weekend, we spoke infrequently and enjoyed the breathtaking scenery.

Tomorrow, we head back to Kansas City. I’m ready to go home but this trip has been one of the most satisfying vacations I’ve experienced in a long time.

The Long and Winding Road

I don't know if you've noticed but I've been titling these entries from Colorado using song titles. A few of them, I've been hard pressed to match a song title to but today could have been many different songs. Some of the titles under consideration: Shoot To Thrill, Rocky Mountain High, Kodachrome, Top of the World, and a couple of others I can't recall at the moment.

Dad and I decided last night that today was going to be devoted to photography. He didn't take many pictures but I think he enjoyed watching me enjoy taking pictures. I know he enjoyed reviewing my digital pictures and critiquing them and I enjoyed receiving the feedback.

We packed up my Sony Mavica FD-88 and camcorder, a Yashica D loaded with 120 b&w, a Yashica 635 loaded with 35mm color, and a Mamiya SLR complete with auto winder and 28mm, 200mm, 38-80mm, and 100-200mm lenses. We loaded everything into the van and headed for Rocky Mountain National Park.

First, let me say that should you get the opportunity to drive through RMNP, do so. The scenery is breathtaking. I should also tell you that there are several places where you can pull off the road, park, and take pictures or just enjoy the fresh mountain air. The first time I had dad stop the van so I could take some pictures, we were about 200 yards from one of the stopping areas.

At the first pull-off (Fairview Curve), I dug out the tripod and started to unsheathe the Yashica D. There was a low wall and dad noticed there were several chipmunks darting about the trees along the back side of the wall. Dad started "chittering" to them and, low and behold, one of them darted up on top of the wall and came right up to dad.

He was gone about as soon as he appeared after sniffing a bit at dad to see if he had any treats. No sooner had he left as another one came up to visit so I grabbed the SLR and started snapping a few pictures.

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Let me pause briefly in my narrative to point out something. These chipmunks were obviously not afraid of humans and were obviously begging for treats. All through the park there are signs saying that you should not feed the wildlife and reminding people that the practice is, in fact, illegal.

The reason you are not supposed to feed the wildlife is that they become dependent on humans to bring them food and lose the ability to forage for themselves - among other things.

Please... DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS!!!
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While dad and I were enticing the chipmunks to come up for a visit (without using or even thinking about using food), a couple of other cars pulled up and about five more people were taking pictures of the critters and the landscape. As the herd began to thin out, I put the SLR away and went back to the Yashica.

I mounted the Yashica on the tripod and proceeded to start focusing and getting a light reading. No sooner had I bent over the camera as dad says, "You just missed the perfect picture."

One of the chipmunks had come up beside dad, who was sitting on the wall. After peering at dad a couple of seconds, he hopped up on to dad's thigh. Getting no reaction to his gaze, except for a return gaze, the chipmunk scurried up to sit on dad's chest and stare at him from there. Apparently, dad did not posses what the chipmunk was after so he scurried off.

A couple more stops up the road, I had taken a few photos with the SLR and grabbed the video camera to take a video panoramic. As I was walking from the van, I noticed a couple of people off to the side pointing and talking excitedly. "I think it's a pika," I heard one of them say and I decided to head that way.

I'd heard about pikas from The Jeff Corwin Experience and was very excited that I'd get to see one. Sure enough, it was a pika. Pikas are small mammals, related to rabbits. If you've never seen a pika, they look a little like a chinchilla. If you've never seen a chinchilla, go to a pet store.

At any rate, I got some good video of the pika then took my panoramic.

After the encounter with the pika, dad and I headed for higher elevations. Somewhere around 11,500 feet the landscape turns into Alpine Tundra (Alpine tundra begins where trees give up the fight against cold, wind, and a short growing season.). At or near the highest point along Trail Ridge Road (12,183 ft) is the Alpine visitor center. The Alpine visitor center includes a gift shop and restaurant -- which were already closed for the season.

Dad and I took the opportunity to take a bathroom break and I took a few snapshots of the landscape. There's not much to see except the barren tops of mountains but it's one of those things that's fun to say "been there, done that." I'm sure it would have been better with some snow cover.

At the Alpine visitor center is also some sort of observation area above the parking lot. Up the side of one of the peaks, they have created a natural staircase. Visitors can make the trek up to the top of the peak to view, photograph and just generally enjoy the landscape.

I'm sure the view from there is spectacular but I just didn't have the energy to go up there. I had already been having trouble breathing most of the week even in Fraser (elev. 8,650 ft.) and, being 4,000 ft. above that, I wasn't about to try to make it another 100 feet or so up a staircase. Maybe next time.

From the Alpine visitor center, we started downward. We made a couple more stops and took a few more pictures at the Forest Canyon overlook, Rainbow Curve, and other stops. As we were nearing the lower elevations, we saw a sign that read "Elk viewing area - next three miles." We drove slowly - even stopped once and pulled out the binoculars - but didn't really see anything... until we got to the straight stretch of road at the end.

As we came around the bend, we saw several cars stopped by the side of the road. As we approached, we could see what appeared to be two female elk standing in the pasture. We pulled forward a bit and stopped.

In conversing with some of the people already there, we had missed the bull elk by mere minutes. No matter, though, I took a few pictures and even got some great video of the cow and yearling that were still there. On the video, you can hear the bull trumpeting.

The rest of the trip through the park was relatively uneventful. On our way out, we stopped by the park headquarters and picked up a few souvenirs. I now have a RMNP hat pin on my new black hat.

As we left RMNP we ended up on the outskirts of Estes Park. We could go east through Estes Park, down highway 36 to Boulder, then across 119 back to Fraser... or, we could avoid going so far east, shoot down county road 7, connect to 72 and finally back to 119 and Fraser. It was fortunate that we chose to go down county road 7.

As we headed south, we saw a bit of the road less traveled around that part of Colorado. I thought we were lost a couple of times but finally saw signs indicating what road we were on and started enjoying the drive. We were on 72 and topped a small hill...

I thought I was about to send dad through the window but he saw it, too, and was ready for my rapid deceleration test. What we saw was a young bull elk, grazing right next to the road. We topped the hill and he lifted his head, watched us pass, and then went back to grazing. I managed to stop about 100 yards down the road and we ended up at a great vantage point to take some pictures. The ironic thing about the whole situation was that there was a hunter's tag (a fluorescent pink ribbon) tied to a fencepost not two feet from his head.

Good Day Sunshine

A bad day fishing is better than a good day at work. I finally understand that saying. We had a GREAT day of fishing today.

We started out going to Monarch Lake. It’s a beautiful sight. If you’re ever around Winter Park, head up the highway just past Granby, take highway 34 North, turn East on County Road 6 (don’t forget to stop at one of the fee stations) and go ‘till you can’t go no more. Get out of your car, walk through the gate, and see part of the beauty that is Colorado. But I digress.

I started with the fly rod. My casting was better with the correct line on the rod but the fish just weren’t biting. The spot we chose was a bit on the shallow side so I grabbed the spinning rod and chose a spot near deeper water.

I hadn’t cast more than 10 times when it hit. I pulled in a 10-inch rainbow trout… that we had for dinner. [side note: I chose the lure and tied it on myself.]

As far back as I can recall, I never remember landing a fish on a fishing trip. Sure, I’ve caught fish before. We used to pull crappie out of Joe Creek in Tulsa and I once nabbed a catfish during a fishing event at LaFortune Park. This is the first time I can remember ever catching a fish while fishing with my dad. It was a very satisfying feeling. (There was a ‘one that got away’ story but I don’t tell it because the fish was a very small blue gill… or, that’s what dad said it was)

We hung around Monarch Lake until noon-ish. We had packed a lunch so we ate in the car and headed back up the road.

We stopped at the spot under the bridge where we were yesterday. Neither one of us had so much as a nibble and I lost two lures… but I had a BLAST! The fish was a nice bonus but, call me crazy, I actually enjoyed waving a stick around all day.

You know, I was right. This trip is going to provide a lifetime of memories for me.

Busted

Today we went fishing… but all was not well.

We started at the southern end of Lake Granby, Rainbow Bay I think. While dad was preparing the fly rods, he suggested I try my luck with one of the spinning rods, just to get started. I grabbed one of the rods, cast out, and was halted by a rat’s nest of monofilament line that formed around the reel… the lure never even got wet. The damage was enough that he decided it would be better to untangle later: One rod down.

Dad handed me one of the fly rods and commenced to learnin’ me to fly cast. I started with empty line so that, just in case I whip-cast, I wouldn’t snap any flies off the end. I didn’t do too badly but the line just wasn’t lying out like it should. Dad kept telling me to drive the rod forward like I’m driving a nail. As he watched my line, he coached me to “drive the nail harder. Really hit it.” By this time, I’m thinking, “Geez, this is a lot of work. My arm hurts.”

After a few more minutes of this, dad starts noticing that my form looks okay but the line still isn’t lying out right. “Let me see that rod,” he says and starts casting it himself. The line is acting very similar to how it was acting for me. “I think I’ve got the wrong weight of line on here,” he starts, “We’ll have to change reels later. I have some heavier line on another reel in the van.” Two rods down.

Shortly after that, we packed up and headed for a different spot. We decided that the fish weren’t running shallow enough and we couldn’t cast deep enough where we were.

We headed East along County Road 6 along the Southern edge of the lake toward Monarch lake. There were pull-offs sprinkled along the route, presumably for hunting and fishing but a few also made for good photo-ops. About eight miles down the road, there was a parking area near a bridge. On approach to the bridge, you could see a stream with mountains rising up behind. We pulled off to take some pictures.

As I was snapping a few shots, dad was observing the trout surfacing along the stream. The path to the stream was relatively short and wasn’t too steep. We unpacked the other two spinning rods (we had a total of 4 but one came in with line tangled around the rod) and headed down.

I decided to try my luck with a closed-reel spinning rod. Too bad it was the wrong kind of luck. My first cast landed a stick. I cast out a second time and started reeling in. A sizeable knot of line came down the reel toward me. I paused enough to let the lure sink a bit and catch on one of several bits of log, grass or whatever else was at the bottom of the stream. Dad was like, “Reel it in and get your rod tip closer to the lure.” I’m like, “I can’t, there’s a knot in the line.” Dad’s like, “Reel it in.” I’m like, “I CAN’T. There’s a knot in the line.”

Dad finally came over, took a look at the knot and decided to take over. He reeled the knot into the reel, freed the lure from the clutches of the evil Dr. Riverbottom, and set the rod aside. “We’ll have to fix that when we get back. I’ll have to open the reel to fix it and I don’t want to mess with it out here.”

Three rods down.

I spent some time working the stream with the last functional spinning rod but that wasn’t very productive. Dad had put a lure on the line that was small, gold, and fish-shaped. The line tied in the middle and there were double hooks on either end. This was the wrong lure for this stream.

Every time I dragged the line out of the water, the lure was either tangled to itself, it tangled to the rod tip, or it came up with river bottom moss clinging to it. Let me tell you, fiddling with your lure EVERY time you bring it out of the water makes fishing no fun no matter who you are.

Dad changed the lure [side note: dad is doing all of the luring because he’s much more knowledgeable about lure selection than I am.] and I worked a small area of the stream for about 10-15 minutes. He took over for another 5 or so while I took more pictures. Neither one of us caught anything.

Oddly enough, as we got in the car, we could see a LOT of activity… just up the stream from where we were fishing.

Go fig.

Like To Get To Know You Well

Today was uneventful and yet productive. The day started out with neither of us having slept well. I tossed and turned most of the night, waking up every hour or so, until about 5:30a when I realized I was congested and my struggle to breathe through my nose was a largely contributing factor. I took my antihistamine, took a snort of some saline spray and within a half hour was out until about 8. Dad, on the other hand, only caught about 2 hours of sleep. He told me he hadn’t been asleep yet when I got up around 2:30a.

We decided, first, that I should drive. Dad wasn’t sure he could stay awake. Then, we decided to go get our fishing licenses and scout out some access areas. We had all the fishing gear with us, having never unpacked it from the van, but I was pretty sure the rods weren’t going to see any action today.

After a nice breakfast at a local diner in Granby, we located an open tackle shop and went in for our licenses and some direction. The owners of Budget Tackle in Granby were quite helpful in pointing out some areas of Lake Granby as well as some easy-access points along the Colorado. We drove around the area for about an hour, noting some good spots to try, and then headed back to Fraser.

After a trip to the grocery store for comestibles for the rest of the week, dad laid down for a nap and I loaded the 35mm camera. The Fraser River runs right up to the deck of our condo and provides some beautiful scenery. There is an access trail that I didn’t get a chance to explore when we were here last year so, with camera in hand, I hiked around the complex for another hour or so.

On a side note, I have been shooting nothing but digital photos for about 3 years now. My camera is fully automatic with no capabilities to simulate aperture or shutter priority metering. I had forgotten how much fun it is to take creative control over the picture. I was adjusting aperture to change the depth of field, I was bracketing exposures, I was giving thought to the composition of my pictures, and I was having a great time.

Once I returned from my brief photo expedition, I decided I, too, could use a nap.

After dinner, dad asked what I’d like to do. He suggested going to Black Hawk and Central City to check out the casinos. I might have agreed but decided I wanted to get started logging some of my family’s oral history. I had warned him that I wanted to do this so I set up the camcorder and we began to talk.

Several of the stories I heard tonight I had heard before. Tonight, though, they were more complete so I got some extra details. I also heard new stories about my great grandparents and how my father grew up. Most interesting, though, was learning some of the parallels in our lives. Tonight I learned that a grocery store held our first jobs, our wives both thought we were jerks the first time they met us (although I think my wife used stronger language) and we both had our wives’ wedding rings custom-made.

I love my father. I’m so glad I have this opportunity to get to know him.

Looks Like We Made It

Dad and I made the trek form Kansas City to Fraser, Colorado today. We arrived about 7:40p local time. Time enough to get settled, take some time to veg in front of the TV and stop riding. Local time is now just after 9:00p but our bodies are saying it’s after 10:00p.

The drive was fairly uneventful. We talked some but it was mostly one slept while the other one drove. Dad doesn’t sleep much at night anyway and I was up around 4am this morning. That was partially due to anticipation of the trip, but mostly because I often don’t sleep well in the bed at their house anyway.

I think the plan for tomorrow is to explore the region a bit, get our fishing licenses taken care of and maybe take a few pictures. At least, I intend to load the 35mm and bring the digital with me.

It’s late and it’s been a long day. G’nite

I'm so excited

It’s about 4:30am. In just a few hours, I will embark on a trip that I hope will hold a lifetime of memories. I hold this hope, not because of our destination and not because of our activities but because of who I’m going with. The simplest and most excitedly childlike way I can put this is I’m going fishing with my dad.

While I was growing up, my father often enjoyed many activities that he attempted to involve my brother and I in (and occasionally my sister). He enjoyed golf, fishing and playing chess. As any young child would, I took an interest in these activities mostly just to spend time with my father. As I grew into my teens, I found that my interest drifted toward different activities. My father would invite me to play golf or just go out to the driving range but I declined… many times.

Dad would also take us fishing on occasion. Eventually, both my brother and I lost interest – probably because we didn’t understand the concept of fishing. It’s not about catching the fish, it’s about taking time.

I recall growing up in Oklahoma when we’d go to a fishing dock in the winter. We would stay relatively warm but still had access to the water. The problem was there were several others with the same idea. I don’t remember ever catching a fish at these times. What I remember was I was cold, I was bored, and the place reeked of fish.

During the summers, we would fish the banks along Keystone Lake and still not catch anything. I think I recall maybe three times that I actually caught something. For a child, the number of fish vs. the number of hours spent fishing were not encouraging.

Now that I’m older, I realize it’s not always about catching fish… although that is a bonus.

Whirling, transient nodes of thought

I have a sticky note at the bottom of my monitor at work that has the words "Negative Energy" written on it. In hi-lighter it has the international "no" symbol (a circle with a slash through it) superimposed over the words. I did this several weeks ago because I was allowing myself to be consumed with the negativism that was permeating my environment. I had gotten to the point that I was either going to start screaming about even the smallest of annoyances (I actually had at one point - scared the hell out of everyone in the other offices around me) or explode. I decided then and there it wasn't worth it. I "cleansed my aura" - I waved my hands above my head then out across my shoulders finally shaking the 'energy' off my hands in a physical representation of getting rid of the negative thoughts - and put up the sticky note as a reminder.

Even though that reminder is staring me in the face on a daily basis, I find it difficult to heed its advice. It's difficult to do when the water-cooler conversation is all about how our new directors have turned into true PHBs. It's so bad that one of them is stringing out the rope to hang himself with a sexual harassment or hostile work environment lawsuit.

I could say more but that would open a door for the neg energy to flow back in. I'm trying to expunge it.

"Beware the dark side" - Yoda

I moved offices last Monday. I'm sharing an office in a different building with Gary. He made my transition easy by being gone last week. I was able to stack boxes behind his desk and let my plants float around the room a bit to decide where they wanted to be. I was worried how he'd receive my plants since they're a little overbearing for the space we have but relaxed as he excitedly told a coworker, "... He brought plants!"


I'm starting to get excited - HEY! None of that. Get your mind out of the gutter!

I'm starting to get excited about a fly fishing trip with my father next week. My wife and I own a timeshare condo in Colorado. Due to unforeseen circumstances, she doesn't have the leave time available to go this year. At her mother's suggestion, I asked my dad to take me fly fishing. He agreed.

I'm not excited about fly fishing. I don't care about fly fishing that much. What's important is I get to spend time with my dad. I'm hoping to get to know him a little better. Sure, I grew up with him but who listens to their parents as they grow up? Plus, over the last 15 years or so, geography has kept us apart and I'd like to learn more about his life since then. The big kicker, though, is I'll have time to sit down with him and record some of our family's oral history - THAT will be cool!


It's almost time to hit the shower and get ready for work. Later, y'all.

Let soak for 24 hours

I've been thinking a lot about my last entry. Man, was that a depressing few days.

Anyway, the reality of everything has soaked in and the dust has started to settle. After speaking to Ron late Tuesday afternoon and letting the reality of my situation and the layout of the entire Technology Support division sink in, I feel much better about it all.

I started realizing that I had an opportunity here. I could either be miserable, or make the best of it... I decided on the latter.

At first, the only thing that kept running through my mind was, "Bloom where you're planted." As I told myself those words over and over, I began to realize I was in a pretty good situation. I still get to work with Ron and I'll be facing new challenges. Plus, looking at our section of the org chart as a whole, I landed in a pretty good spot.

As my focus started widening to take in more than the little box with my name in it (and hearing how the Software Services division had been reoganized), I started seeing some interesting patterns. I started noticing that some people had been set up to fail. They had either been placed in a position that didn't appear to suit them at all or they had been put in charge of either an insufficient staff or an ill-equipped staff. I also noticed that some, like Ron and myself, had been set up to succeed. We are good at what we do, we work well together and we can take on any realistic challenge they want to throw our way.

The best change of all, though, is I'll cease to be invisible.

In a climate of such radical change where people are being laid off and pushed out, you might think this is a bad idea. Not so in my case... at least, I refuse to see it that way. I am currently in a position where, by reason of geography and the nature of my job, I don't get noticed until something goes wrong. Meanwhile, certain people in proximity to those in charge are being lauded for their efforts.

My professional career has often been like this. Kind of like the old poem about the train...
They do not let me drive the train, I cannot ring the bell. But, watch the damned thing jump the tracks and see who catches hell.
I'm not saying I want to be in the lime-light or that I intend to kiss up to be noticed but I would appreciate a sincere "thank you" once in a while for putting out extra effort. (Thanks, Ron, for always doing that - it's one of the reasons I respect you)

Anyway... It's getting late and I just didn't want that last entry to fester any longer. I still intend to finish the stories about Detroit, the Renaissance Festival and the concert, and why you shouldn't put 100% faith in directions from the web. PLUS, I'll give you a recap of this weekend... My wife's grandmother came to visit. Oh, wow... there's more. I need to tell you about getting to go fishing with dad!

For now, I'll bid you a fond pie in the face and say goodnight.