Now, Where Were We?

I know, I know. Poor, neglected blog. You sweet thing. Now there, mommy's back now. You miss me?

Hmm, let's see, where to begin... Let's just summarize, shall we?

• We went trick-or-treating.
• We've taken turns being sick.
  
• Sean-Peter earned another trip to the ER (with a little help from his sister).
  
• I spent a lot of time finishing an assignment for my writing class.
• The rest of my writing time has been spent posting to my other blog.
  
• I've wasted a lot of time trying to transfer my other blog over to my own domain.
  
• When I started the process I didn't realize it involved writing code.
• I don't do code.
• I've tried.
• John's feverishly reading and writing a paper for his class.
• Oh, and Olivia lost a tooth. See?

• John's on-again, off-again, on-again, off-again, on-again.... Honestly, I lost track. Anybody recall where I left off with the latest on his deployment?
• Anyway, it's off-again. Officially.
• But there's another one that might be on.
  

Isn't this fun!

Sean-Peter's fine, by the way. Turns out there's a reason Bill Cosby always told us on that one commercial that we should never stick anything in our ears, other than our elbows. And then you couldn't help but sit there and try to stick your elbow in your ear. Remember that one?

Olivia was almost as traumatized as Sean-Peter. Almost.

"I was just trying to clean his ear!"

He's been in for a follow-up once, but needs to go in for another next week. His ear drum didn't rupture, according to the ER doc, but it did bleed a lot, and the second doc wants him back after the dried blood has had a chance to clear up a bit on its own, so's she can see in there all the way right-like.

Isn't this fun!

Otherwise we're all good. "We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?"

(Name that movie.)

Hint: Use the Force.

I do hope you all enjoyed a wonderful Veterans Day! Kids are off of school here the next two days, so my "weekend" starts early...

Oh, and I'm going to Chicago on Sunday! Whoopee for me! A road trip. All. by. myself. What is that, anyway? Anybody have any books on tape to recommend? I'm going to visit an old, old friend -- we grew up together, for pete's sake. She never married and never had kids. She might as well live on another planet.

I might like it there...

Birthdays and Barking

John celebrated his birthday yesterday... Although mourned seemed to be the more appropriate description for much of the day, and not just because he's approaching the end of another decade... (Ahem)

It all started out innocuous enough. A guy from the phone company came out, a day earlier than expected. So that sounds good, right? He confirmed that our nerves wires are frayed and did what he could on the spot short of pulling them all out and starting over. Apparently, 40+ year-old wires aren't good. Especially with the jimmy-rigging that went on with the previous owners.

Right after he left we did a little jig, because our internet connection was faster than it had been since... Well, since forever.

Unfortunately, that was short-lived.

Routing Woes
John thought he'd piggy-back on our good fortune and work on getting the router to, um, route properly. Alas, in vain, since this was the umpteenth time he has worked on this problem, and always before we could go back to how the phone line was probably contributing to the problem. Now that the phone line has been fixed (as much as it can be for now) he is faced with the router being absolutely, undoubtedly, the worst router. Ever. He alternated between working on it, debating whether to call the Dell Indians at a mere $7 a minute... or stomping on the ground and smashing it to smithereens.

He opted for giving up instead, with plans to return the router to the depths of Hades from whence it came. Or to the BX, whichever you prefer.

Besides, he had a game to watch, with his favorite peeps.Alabama won!
No matter that they shouldn't have, based on how they played. John and some Tennessee fans at work placed a friendly bet on this game -- John should have some beer coming his way very soon... Happy Birthday!

And the kids showered him with homemade gifts, each in their own unique way.

Olivia went on a card-making frenzy...


If you look closely, you might wonder if she even wore herself out. ("Mom and Mommy"?)

The Times, They are a Changing

In what truly says more about this next generation than I could ever begin to articulate, Conner presented his dad with his own homemade "card", DSi style...



I mean, have you ever?

I think John was quite taken aback.



Imagine if the original Disney creators could see what everyday teenagers are able to do now...

Sean-Peter didn't really make anything for John, per se. But he presented his own creation, in his own, unique way.So much for the cake.It's a good thing he's so darn cute.

He's not into much mischief today, though...

Meet the latest cold victim. He's got it worse than Olivia did; he woke up this morning -- not early -- panicking with that tell-tale barking seal cough. He was my only kid who ever got croupy, but at the ripe old age of almost five four it's definitely more bark than bite. It took a while to convince him of that, though. It didn't help that he'd also lost his voice.

Here's a tiny sample of a barking seal cough. I didn't want to belabor the point by forcing it out of him, but you get the idea.

At least Olivia's doing much better...

They say it comes in threes. I'd take that.

First we get an "extended vacation" because our car breaks down while we're in Kansas. No sooner are we back home in Ohio then Sean-Peter contracts e-coli from Lord knows where and lands himself in the hospital. Olivia starts throwing up, and I break my stupid toe. I should write a country song. Thank God we don't have a dog or a pickup truck. Although my mom did tell me we should get rid of our cat. (No surprise there.) (Hi mom!)

Poor, poor Sean-Peter. Have you ever known anyone who suffered from e-coli? It ain't pretty, especially when you don't yet know why your child appears to be expelling half his bowels. Poor, poor Peter. Don't he look pitiful?














We started out at the ER on base, where they tested him for everything under the sun and ruled out what they could. They then transferred him to Dayton Children's Hospital where they continued to run tests and I couldn't have been more impressed with the care. Seriously. If I'd had nurses in the hospital like that when I'd had my babies I never would have wanted to go home.


Sean-Peter went through so much. You know how it is when a child is so sick and pathetic and lethargic and weak and so, so pitiful?

He cried so pathetically when they put in the I.V. which, really, is so much more than a shot. (Have you ever had that tube stuck up your arm?) I soothed him and assured him that the worst was over. Then they taped a sack around his nut sack (ahem) so they could collect some urine to test and when they had to tear that off he screamed and wailed and I said I'm so sorry I was wrong because I was sure that was the worst.

The little guy got his first (and hopefully last) ambulance ride, with the nicest people ever, two confident, take-charge women who must be saints to spend their lives helping hurt and hurting children.

They transferred him from the base ER to Dayton Children's by ambulance "just in case" -- the little guy had been so dehydrated and of course they don't know me, his mom, from Eve, so why take chances?

While sitting back there in the ambulance with those lovely ladies, and a wane little boy so unlike the one I know, one of them attempted to spark some life out of him with some idle questions.

"So, you have an older brother and sister?"

"Uh, huh." So, sooo pathetic. You could barely hear him.

"Are they nice to you?"

Sean-Peter suddenly looks alert and starts shaking his head.

"My brother is mean to me and calls me stupid and a loser." Then he lifts his hand and makes the two-finger loser L sign.

Doh!

The woman laughs appropriately and I am a bit taken aback at the biggest display of life he has shown all day. She asks me how old his brother is and when I tell her 13, she rolls her eyes appreciatively. But still.

Oh, Conner. We have told him time and time again what a powerful role model he is to his younger brother and sister. They look up to him so much and everything he says affects the dynamic in their relationship. No matter that he thinks he's being funny or that he thinks they're annoying; they are not his peers and being the oldest bears a certain responsibility.

I wasn't surprised by Sean-Peter's response -- just by his animation -- but apparently Conner was. Surprised and hurt. I think it made quite the impression that his brother -- his sick, little brother, thought of him this way in his most vulnerable moment. What, you going to accuse a sick little four-year-old of making this stuff up?

Partly in redemption? But mostly because he really is a kind-hearted soul, Conner helped his sister make a card for their little brother.

"Jellyfishing isn't any fun without you, Peter."

"We love you, Peter.

Hey, Peter, can't wait to see you, it's really boring without you! I miss you and I hope you're feeling better!

You will get better."

I especially like the last part.

The country song didn't go into full effect until yesterday, though, when I managed to break my toe -- running to change out laundry? Answer the phone? I really can't recall. But it was sometime after Olivia threw up but before Public Health called with Sean-Peter's diagnosis: I vividly remember massaging my foot with a bag of frozen peas while attempting to process "your son has e-coli" and intelligently answer her formula questions.

Is anyone else sick?
Is your son in daycare?
When did you go to Kansas?

In all honesty, we'll probably never know exactly how or where Sean-Peter contracted the e-coli. He simply doesn't fit the standard profile (e.g., he won't touch hamburger) nor does he have any connections with any other cases. It is sobering to note that, at the same time Sean-Peter was in the hospital, at least two other small children were there for the same thing -- and they're still there. Public Health called again today with more questions, desperate to rule out any and all correlation between our son and the other cases, and a bit credulous that he was home and doing so well, as the other children are still suffering so much. We are very fortunate.

My broken toe notwithstanding. You all can feel sorry for me now.

And I apologize for this photo in advance, I just couldn't resist.**
Before the whole e-coli, Thang, I started uploading photos for a Trip to Kansas post. I will recommence on that shortly.

Models and Masters and a Nose Job, too.

John spent months and months weeks and weeks building a model airplane for a guy's retirement at the base. Have I ever mentioned that John can be a bit, er, um, meticulous? Heh-heh. You have no idea. Model building suits him perfectly.

And he's very good at it. Not that I have any idea what I'm talking about. But you don't have to take my word for it -- take a look for yourself.The recipient could not believe his good fortune, thanking him profusely, telling him it's the best going-away gift he's ever gotten, and my personal favorite -- even told him to thank his wife, he wants to bring me flowers.Because he totally gets the amount of time and effort that goes into creating these models with such perfect detail. I truly was a Model Widow for quite some time.

Immediately after finishing the model, John segued into working on his Master's again. He's officially decided to pursue his advanced degree in Military History -- right up his alley. He already knows everything there is to know about WWII anyway; might as well get a piece of paper to prove it.

I hadn't become a Master's Widow for very long, though, before it was time for John's surgery: his long-overdue rhinoplasty. Poor guy.If he thought he couldn't breath before, he's really suffering now. Of course, we're banking on this all being worth it. I've officially been a Nose Job Widow for three days now, but I certainly wouldn't claim I don't have the better end of the deal.

Is It Possible?

Could Spring be coming to stay?























I probably don't want you to answer that.

These pictures were taken yesterday; Friday afternoons are mine and Peter's, when his sister and brother are both in school.

The weather today was more of the same, but Peter was decidedly not.He woke up flushed, with a fever -- a common theme around here of late. No playing outside for him today.
I totally agree, Becky: We need to work on being healthy. With the warmer temperatures, it was nice to air out the house today, bringing in that verdammte frishe Luft, as my German ancestors would say, the brisk breeze blowing through quickly drying the floors I scrubbed with disinfectant. A purge feels needed. Wish us luck. And feel free to blow us some Spring prayers of your own our way.

As Luck Would Have It

Olivia blew chunks last night and has now declared that she must be allergic to spinach. Which is very unfortunate as she actually loves spinach and is always waiting on the boys to eat their forced bites so she can finish the rest. "Oh, boy!" she will say as she digs her fork directly into the serving bowl.

By boys I am including John because he's not exactly the best role model when it comes to eating his fruits and vegetables. And it's unfortunate that she thinks she's allergic to spinach -- not that she really is. But you know when you throw up and whatever you happened to eat last you can't help but think is what made you sick? I have that with anything grape-flavored, ever since I was about Olivia's age myself and my family made homemade grape-flavored ice cream at the park and I played on the merry-go-round and got that typical dizzy feeling in the stomach only it never went away and I blew purple-colored chunks that night and was sick for two days. A coincidence, yes. But I still don't like grape and it was years before I wanted to go on a merry-go-round again.

So I hope Olivia doesn't end up with this association with spinach because how many five-year-olds have you ever known who love spinach? And to have it frittered away like that all in one blow. Pun intended.

But I was impressed that when she got sick she made it to the bathroom in time -- even if it was my sink she chose and not the toilet. Since I don't think she's been sick like this since she's been old enough to know that the toilet is the receptacle of choice on such occasions I was more than willing to let that slide. I was just so glad to not have soiled sheets or chunks on the carpet to deal with at four in the morning.

Because then I might have actually insisted on John getting up and helping instead of his, "She did what?" then immediately rolling back over and going to sleep, not even grunting to compete with the crickets following my sarcastic, "No, no, it's all right, I got it. You just go back to sleep. No, really. I insist."

We skipped Sean-Peter's speech this morning, and I kept her from school this afternoon, even though she really wasn't sick anymore. Even though she stated, as her little brother was getting ready for his bus to come, minutes before her bus would normally arrive, "I think I changed my mind and I want to go to school after all." Like she was in charge of the whole thing.

This house was mouse-quiet when I was in the middle of that last paragraph and heard a noise so loud and destructive that it wouldn't have surprised me to look up and see the body of an airplane crashing through the wall. (Didn't something like that just happen in San Diego?) As it was it sounded like the second story fell down. I went upstairs where the little ones were still inexplicably asleep (this is, I'm sure, how humans have survived wars and natural disasters throughout the millennia) and found this:

Don't focus on those squarish holes in the wall. I can't explain those. Ask yourself instead what you should be seeing there and then look down, on the floor.Yes, the mirror.

No one was hanging on it, no one was stomping on the floor, or banging on the wall -- no one was even in the bathroom when it fell. It was completely random.

When I first saw the real cause of what had sounded like an airline disaster, I couldn't help but visualize Olivia standing right there, throwing up in that sink, mere hours ago. That's healthy, right? Focusing on how it could have been worse? Focusing on how lucky that it fell when no one was around?

Because that looks like a lot of bad luck. Seven years, isn't it? And we certainly don't need any more of that around here. Lucky, that's what that is. If a broken mirror is the worst random disaster that we have to deal with, in this age of short-notice deployments and massive layoffs. I'll take it.

Waiting for Results, Announcing Some Results -- If Only I Could Have Voted

Every time I've been out driving around hither and yon on errands and to appointments I have slapped my wheel and said, "Now why didn't I bring my camera?" Ohio's Fall Foliage is like a postcard everywhere you look, yes. But the foreground of the photo I would have taken and posted here would have shown a McCain sign facing the street at one house, and an Obama sign on the property right next to it.

That is pretty much par for the course around here where there are tons and TONS of signs, though truth be told the McCain signs outnumber the Obama ones probably two-to-one. I have no idea how much this Dayton suburbia reflects Ohio's neighborhoods in general. Or if the number of signs accurately portrays the number of voters for each candidate here. But if the polls are to believed then it's still not going to make a difference in the outcome of this election.

I am just sick, though. Sick, I tell you. Sick, sick, sick. Because I never received my absentee ballot from the state where I am registered. I received it for the primary, I know. But only belatedly have I realized that I never got it for the general election which means I never voted. How could I miss that? I don't know. I'm trying to remember what mailing address was on the last one -- it must have been our APO Box from Italy, because it would stand to reason that they never updated my mailing address to reflect the one in Ohio. And we have now passed the year mark for our time here and therefore exceeded the post office's statute for forwarding mail. I would like to say I'm certain I updated my address directly with the Texas voter registration powers-that-be. But quite honestly, I can't recall that for sure, either.

Sick, sick, sick.

My one consolation is that the state I'm registered to vote in is Texas, where the outcome should be a foregone conclusion. One little vote from little old Jolyn wouldn't make much of a difference there. But still. It is my right and my duty to vote, and I missed it.

I heard on the radio earlier today (I've mostly been avoiding the news since then.)(mostly.) that the number of registered Democrats showing up at the polls was outnumbering the registered Republicans by two-to-one in some places, even more in others. I could make some bad jokes in really poor taste here, but I'll stay serious and say that, if Obama does indeed win, the ones who didn't vote brought him into office just as surely as the ones who voted for him directly.

Unfortunately, that now includes me. Drat.

Did anyone else notice an overwhelming sense in the air today? This morning, before my day got busy, but just as it was getting underway, I felt a very real spiritual presence and it stopped me in my tracks. It very clearly came to me that it was the power of prayer, of thousands upon thousands of prayers being offered up in the face of this monumental election. I could feel it, so profoundly, in the room with me, and it was very calming. It reminded me what I already knew about this country, that we are a nation founded on the power and truth and will of God. And no matter the outcome of this election, He will not abandon us so long as we continue to seek Him. And I felt at peace.

The power to vote is important, yes. Vital, even, to a democracy. But the power of prayer will never leave us, long after the polls are closed and the winner announced. I have been told that it would take an Act of God for McCain to win, because he sure didn't make it happen on his own. I'm guess I'm saying that, whoever takes office, the power of prayer will still be there. And miracles do happen.

*****

For as long as we've been married, John has aspired to join the military's foreign area officer program -- or whatever the nomenclature happens to be any given day. I have alluded on this blog that we may be leaving sooner rather than later; and my family and friends (like, live and in person) have known that he had put in an application several months ago for the Air Force's RAS program, something that he met all of the qualifications for and then some.

We found out today that he didn't get it, and we were both very surprised. Time will tell if he's able to find out why, because honestly, we can't think of a reason. Everything on paper was strong. The initial part of the program includes attending a graduate school full-time and earning a Master's ... could be that they were looking for candidates who already have their Master's. Sounds illogical, but that's how the Air Force often works.

I am very disappointed for John, of course. He has wanted this for so long. And I was really taken off-guard because I was the one telling him all this time that I thought he was going to get it. But after I processed it for a bit I have to admit...I was relieved. This takes so much pressure off, knowing that we're not moving again already next summer. It literally changes the way I can think, now that there's no longer the possibility of having to put this house up for sale so soon, or prepare for an interruption in Sean-Peter's therapy and having to start advocating for him from scratch in a new state, with new doctors, new therapists, a new school district...

And Conner is happy, of course. What thirteen-year-old wants to leave his friends? And yes, we're open with him about the possibilities in our lifestyle. He's already moved eight times (yes, eight times) so he knows the deal. But he's older now and that only makes it harder. A bit of stability is certainly not a bad thing.

But no, we did not burden the little ones with any abstract nonsense of a possible move to another state in the equally abstract future. Olivia still dramas on about Italy, for pete's sake. Just today in the car she says, "Just think, me and my friends Emma and Catherine and Chloe and Grant all used to live in Italy all together!" And then she sighed, audibly, and so very poignantly. Good Lord Almighty that girl can pine.

As for me, now I will paint that rainbow mural she's been wanting in her room after all. After taking a break from painting in general, if only to relieve my painter's wrist. And I will check out this women's chorus group that I just found out about, though I haven't sung in a proper choir in years let alone auditioned for anything. And I will think about living in this house, just for me, without thinking about what projects I need to get done in the interest of staging for a hopeful sale in which we just as hopefully won't lose our shorts. In general, in so many ways, I will allow myself to settle rather than tell myself why bother. Until he got the results, I hadn't even realized how much I was doing that.

It's almost difficult to imagine staying in one place for four years. We've never done that. (Yes, we're psychotic.) I've always made myself at home wherever we've lived. But four years? This might actually start to feel like home. A couple of weeks ago I had finally ran out of checks -- you know, the kind you write out by hand for the occasional order of firewood or the payment to your daughter's dance lessons at the small family-owned studio... (as opposed to the ones the bank mails for you on bill pay). Now I'm thinking, I might actually use the whole box before we move!

I'll tell you one thing for sure: I am going to go ahead and register to vote. This absentee business is for the birds -- or for people who move more than every four years. At least if I show up in person I have a half-way chance of remembering I did it.

It's officially Fall. And we need a Chipmunk Relocation Program.

I took this yesterday, in the evening. These leaves literally turned during the day... I wonder what it would have been like to lie there and watch them?

It's rained since then, and temperatures are dropping. It's time for our resident chipmunk to take stock of his stores and think about hunkering down in his nest, which I am suspecting he has built inside our walls.

Did I say chipmunk? More like chipmunks. John thinks there are five or six ... the only question is, how many have taken up residence in our house? Finding the dryer vent flap on the outside of our house stuck open was a big clue. So was Sean-Peter pointing at a chipmunk scampering off and hollering, "He came out of that hole!"

This might help explain why our dryer isn't working...

Any tips on how to safely evict the little critters? (short of knocking a hole out in our wall?) Preferably without killing them. But if someone's gotta go, you know. Whatever.

Ike and Thomas. and Conner's birthday.

Who knew the effects of a hurricane could wreak such damage so far as into Ohio?

The winds were blowing in earnest by Sunday afternoon. I was coming back with the little ones after taking them to see Thomas the Tank Engine down in Lebanon, Ohio... which was totally awesome, by the way. But a little more on that in a bit.

So I got a little...confused, I’d say, on the way home, trying to make my way via back roads with which I have no familiarity. And it was windy, to be sure, but it wasn’t until the last few miles when I hit the open highway that I felt like I was in a video game, pulling to keep the van on the road while a giant invisible hand was trying to wiggle us off.

The power went out soon after we walked in the door, and the mighty winds blew while I nursed my imploding head with some motrin and a coke and, finally, my bed, none making much of a dent. I wonder if sinus medication is a recommended emergency kit item? For those whose heads react to the storm pressure like a Far Side cartoon.... Not that we had an emergency kit. Note to self: be prepared for hurricane-like winds; never mind that you're in Ohio.

Lots of beautiful trees in these parts are damaged and lost. But more importantly, thousands of people are still without power, some without water. We personally never lost our water supply -- not even a little bit of pressure. And we were among the lucky some 40,000 or so whose power was restored after about 36 hours, with phone and internet following about a day later. Yesterday 180,000 in the Dayton area were still without power. Today, about 150,000.

Can you tell I've been obsessed with listening to the radio?

I don't think anyone around here had any idea of what was about to hit us. We certainly didn't. Yea, we knew Hurricane Ike was going to head this way as it petered out over land ... at first they were calling for five days of rain in the hurricane aftermath. Then the forecast changed to no rain but very humid and muggy. But winds over 75 mph? No idea.

Dayton is calling this the worst disaster to hit this area ever. It's not that catastrophes haven't struck here before -- just not on this scale. A main difficulty in recovery has been the main power company's inability to call on its normal emergency resources -- because those people have their hands quite full with the same problems themselves, thank you very much.

There was definitely a shift once the governor declared a state of emergency on Monday. Some 900 crews are now working 16-hr shifts, with manpower from Indiana and Chicago helping out. There are still 1.3 million families in Ohio without power (as of this morning). Problems they're encountering include entangled wires catching things on fire once they go live; grids getting back on line only to blow again when old transformers couldn't handle the surge...

We're still being told to conserve water, but the urgency is no longer there and it merely sounds like a precaution. Originally with the state of emergency, the local government was asking for more diesel fuel -- necessary to power the generators that fuel the water pumps. That, and ice, for any hope of salvaging cold food items. And, of course, help with clearing the debris. And oh my is there debris. Not like Galveston, mind you. But Ohio has gorgeous trees, and so many are now strewn hither and yon. Some with potentially very dangerous wires tangled up in them.

We have been fortunate for so many reasons. We have our power back, when so many don't. We never lost our water. We were able to clear the debris from our property ourselves -- unlike our neighbors across the street who are having to pay [gulp] $1200 for someone to clear out their very large and hazardous tree wreckage. Nothing hit our house. And the weather has been positively beautiful.

And the power lines in our neighborhood are buried so I haven't had to worry about my own kids going out and electrocuting themselves. Important, since tomorrow will be their first day back to school and I think I would have gone even crazier if I hadn't been able to safely shoo them outside.

As it is, we didn't give them much of a choice. There's been work to be done, after all. Even if it is your birthday. Here's Conner on his last day of being a preteen, giving a thumbs-down. He's not too happy with his fate on his Birthday Eve.

Happy Birthday, Conner! At least you got the day off from school.

(On a side note, luckily Conner celebrated his birthday a little early by having a couple of friends stay the night. One of those friends hadn't left yet when the storm hit, and he ended up hanging out at our house a bit longer than originally planned. Thing is, the last time Justin stayed the night? We had a blizzard. And he literally got stuck at our house for a while that time, too.

This time we told him, Hey, Justin, nothing but love for ya. But I don't think we better have you over to stay the night again. Who knows what natural disaster might befall us.)

You might notice in the photos above that Sean-Peter is keeping his trains close. He loved going to see Thomas. I think they really didn't know what to expect. Even though I told them it was a real train they would get to ride on, seeing it actually coming down the track stopped them cold.They seemed a bit stunned.

But they loved everything, despite the oppressive humidity and increasing winds.

(Although Olivia kept saying she wished she could see James or Percy instead.) (I think she was just practicing teenage malcontent.)

Just today Sean-Peter asked me if we could go see Thomas again. I told him that Thomas had to go back to the Island of Sodor; his friends missed him and Sir Topham Hatt needed him. He's a "very useful engine" after all.

Sean-Peter cried, real tears, "No! Sir Toppin Hatt in Ohio, too!"

Actually, we had just missed our photo op with "Sir Topham Hatt" when he had to go to lunch. I had casually told the kids, "maybe next time" and was more than glad to duck into the gift shop and out of the wind.

And you might notice in this last photo that the wind was starting to kick up a bit and blow their hair about. And yes, I am thinking about cutting Sean-Peter's hair. Just not yet.

We had no idea we were heading home in developing "hurricane-like" winds. Or that the governor of Ohio would be declaring a state of emergency in a mere 24 hours.

It really plays games with your mind, how you just don't know what the next day, next hour, might bring. Even when you can prepare, like the people of Texas, who knew that Ike was coming and had every opportunity to escape out of harm's way. Now what? Do you just wait until you can go back, clean up and pick up where you left off as best you can? I suppose you do, if that's your home. So many people cannot imagine anything or anywhere else.

Remember Uncle Rich? His sister Sondra and her family live in Galveston. Although currently they are in our hometown of McPherson, Kansas staying with her parents, trying to figure out when they might be able to go back and assess the damage to their home. They left Galveston a couple of days before Ike hit, staying in a hotel with reservations they had made a week prior "just in case". Last I heard Sondra was going to go ahead and enroll their kids in school up in McP, since Galveston is not supposed to have power or water services back for a month. I was told that some siding was torn from their house, which is built on stilts, but that it did not flood. But I would still want to go down and see for myself. (Wouldn't you?)

It's easy to see in retrospect that Sondra and her husband did the right thing by leaving town ahead of time, even though I am sure it was no simple feat with the crowded highways, and I heard that they got shuffled around a bit from one hotel to another...

Livings still have to be made so the husband will be going back to Texas (not Galveston?) where his employer still has an office, but Sondra's job as a teacher at a private school is gone, at least for now. She has to buy her kids new clothes for school because they normally just wear uniforms, accustomed to attending the same school where their mom works. Sondra and her family have so many things to deal with immediately, I don't know what they're thinking long-term. Galveston is their home, has been for many years. Even if they were willing to make a change, what would they do with their house? I don't suppose the housing market would be at its best in the immediate aftermath of a hurricane...

I heard a story second or third-hand, that Sondra had talked to someone she knew from Galveston, whose family decided not to evacuate and they ended up having to be rescued. This woman complained that the only thing the rescuers gave her kids to eat for three days was pop tarts, and Sondra had to bite her tongue, because they wouldn't have had to give your kids anything if you had evacuated!

I've heard the sentiment expressed, from more than one direction, that when a city tells its citizens to evacuate in the event of a natural disaster, that if you choose not to, and you have to be rescued, that you should be billed for the services.

I have thought that sounds rather harsh. But then, is it fair? I mean, what about the people who do go out of their way to do the right thing, even at their own expense. Is it fair to them that others wait for the rescuers to bail them out? Taking up precious time that otherwise could be spent cleaning up and preparing for everyone to return to their homes?

I heard a piece on NPR (of course) with a reporter interviewing one of the rescue workers down in Galveston. She was addressing the issue of having to rescue people who had chosen not to evacuate, and asking him if that upset him at all. He evaded the question quite deftly, but she kept going back to it, a bit rudely, until he finally responded that, no, he felt no anger or resentment at all toward the people he was rescuing; there are so many reasons people have for staying behind, he just wants to do his job and get as many people to safety as he can. He sounded sincere.

If you've read this far, what do you think? Is it a moral obligation to evacuate from a threat of a natural disaster if you have the opportunity to do so? Should you be billed for your rescue if you don't?

Let's Hope It Just Comes in Threes

I don't know what's impressing me more: how many different illnesses have struck members of this family; or how no single illness seems to have passed on from one of us to the next -- so far, anyway, knock on wood. (Go ahead, find some wood and knock for me.) (Knock-knock-knock.)

Last week John was sick with ... er, um, let's just say he spent a lot of time in the bathroom. Then I came down with Strep. Only I really didn't think it was strep. So I didn't go to the doctor as soon as I could have and then I didn't go because I didn't want to deal with the emergency room and then I tried to go on Monday only to be sent to the ER anyway because the clinic has no appointments for sick people. That's right, every Tom, Dick or Harry complaining about a sore throat or a collapsed lung gets sent to the ER. Gotta love military healthcare.

Olivia is the latest victim.

She woke up this morning blowing chunks, all the way into our room. Too bad I was fast asleep with Sean-Peter in his room and missed all the excitement. She seems to be done with throwing up and is able to keep down water, which is a good thing as her fever is a bit on the high side.

It's probably a bug I brought home with me from the ER.

Really, I have no idea how or why I got strep. I suspect my body was harboring it and waiting for the perfect time to bring it to life. Like right before we get ready to go on a road trip. And shouldn't Olivia have strep? Not the barfing flu? And what other surprises do we have in store for us?

We're supposed to leave in three days. Prayers are encouraged.

When It Rains, It Pours

I left John with the kids last night while I went to that most wondrous world of shopping oblivion known as Ikea.

I was purposefully armed with a very focused list, but not my cell phone -- that, I forgot in the car. My subconscious knew I couldn't be bothered.

I returned to my car shortly before 9:00 and found two missed calls from John. I found it puzzling that the first thing he asked me was, Where are you? and before I could answer, Let me call you back. But I didn't think much of it. I just hoped the kids were in bed.

I couldn't talk when he called back because I had a guy helping me load two very big and very heavy boxes that contained Conner's dresser, my main motivation for the trip. We connected again once I was back on the highway. It was sprinkling lightly.

"You won't be able to come the usual way on our street, it's totally flooded, so just go around." Um, okay. John can tend toward hyperbole, especially when it comes to meteorology (he missed that calling) so I really didn't think a whole lot about it. But before he could say more the radio came on with that annoying bellowing air horn sound that is usually followed by, "This is a test by the emergency broadcasting system." Only this time it was followed by a flash flood warning and a list of counties, ours one of them. Hmmm.

It was raining in earnest by the time I reached the edge of Dayton. I headed toward our street and decided to try the normal route anyway. Hmmm. A bit of water about halfway in where it dips down, but still a go.

Conner greeted me at the door with barely concealed relief. John's trying to tell me about the street flooding and almost pouring into the neighbor's basement. He is incredulous that I just drove home the usual way. Borderline indignant. Sorry to burst your bubble, Pops, but the street was not that bad.

Then he showed me the pictures.

Oh.
This was why he wanted me to go around.

Because this isn't actually a cul-de-sac.

Here I asked if someone popped out their little raft, but it was just some random kid's toy the floods pulled out of someone's yard.

Floods like this river. Only it isn't actually a river. At least it's not supposed to be.
Here's a view of it targeting the neighbor's house, where everyone began to congregate. John didn't mention there being any buckets on hand, so I guess they were just all there to observe the possible calamity first-hand, ready to offer condolences. Because it came this close to seeping into their basement.
John couldn't believe how many teenage girls came pouring out of that house. He said it was like watching bees from a hive. I'm sure their teenage chattering and panicked theatrics helped matters brilliantly.The whole neighborhood was out, actually. Ready to start bailing, I'm sure. When they weren't frolicking in sewage flood water. Like the guy up above, see? Up to his thighs in the cesspool that is our street? I guess he was in too much of a hurry to go around. Too bad he forgot his bucket.

So I was quite impressed. Apparently I missed a bit of excitement. But I couldn't help but comment about the little ones still being up, it being almost 10:00 and all. Hubs was unapologetic. Gee, I guess it was a little hard to put them to bed what with the sirens wailing and us hiding out in the basement and all.

Oh.

I'm really not sure if and where any funnels touched down around Dayton, but the clouds looked pretty ominous over our house.And over our neighbor's.Those two peaks hanging down? What you can't see in this photo is the whirly-swirliness of it all. Kansas, eat your heart out.

And to think, about the time he took these photos, I was shopping my little heart away, probably inquiring about some curtains I have picked out for Olivia's room.

Aren't they fabulous?

Unfortunately a few hundred other people think so, too. And they've been "temporarily oversold" for quite some time. With "no shipments scheduled". But I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Good things come to those who wait.

Even though the waters receded and the worst seemed to be over, the storm continued unabated throughout the night. Made for a good night's sleep, I tell you what. And it kept on in the morning. We had a little deja vu when our street became unpassable again -- only for about 10 minutes, but long enough to give Sean-Peter's bus driver a bit of trouble.

I would have taken pictures of that sweet lady maneuvering that bus around close enough so Sean-Peter wouldn't have to wade into a river to climb into it, but I was too busy clutching the little guy's hand while we watched. And did I mention it was raining? What a way to end the school year.

I was surprised when John came back to the house this morning, before he was supposed to show up for this interview for this position that he was put in for that he doesn't really want but it's supposed to be an honor to be considered for it so he really can't just say, "No thanks, I really don't want to do that." So we talked a bit about how maybe he could just flub the interview so they wouldn't want him. Har-har and all that.

Then the power went out. And did I mention it was still raining? The whole morning long. Storming, really. Like God's stomach was growling.

It eventually came back on, and John left for his appointment/interview. I was totally in the mood to get on and blog about yesterday's excitement, but I couldn't figure out how to turn the computer back on -- when the power went out it started making this annoying beeping sound because of this generator/backup system it's plugged into, and since John was still there he went ahead and disconnected it. My mad skillz with all things technical tend toward the lacking side to say the least.

I was highly annoyed -- blogging wasn't the only thing I wanted needed to do on the computer. I called his cell phone, thinking I might still catch him in the car. I was annoyed again when it started ringing from inside the drawer in the kitchen.

So imagine my surprise when John calls shortly thereafter, stranded on the side of the road where his car had broken down and he'd been waiting the whole time for someone to stop and offer help. I guess I wasn't the only one who thought he should have his cell phone with him.

So the engine clenched? Turns out that it kind of caught on fire? Um, yea. I guess that's one way to get out of an interview.

So I pack up the little ones to go rescue him, whisking Sean-Peter off the bus and immediately plopping him in the van, fielding calls on John's cell phone that I brought with me from people wondering why he's not at this interview. We have to hurry because Sean-Peter has a therapy session, and ultimately John had to go back to the car to wait for the tow truck to arrive.

On the way to Sean-Peter's appointment we encounter more flooding. Incredulously, some trucks are making their way through. Big trucks. I was bummed I didn't have my camera. But we don't need another car out of commission so I turned around and found another way. I do have mad skillz in the finding my way around department. (Lots and lots and lots of experience in getting lost in many, many different places will give you that.)

Miraculously we still make his session on time, though I honestly could not have cared less at that point. More driving to go pick John up at the Toyota dealer where he has been waiting, and starving -- it's after lunch by this point. Right at the end of the 30-minute drive the van's dash emits a resounding BEEEEEP! and a suspicious light shows up in front of me, which John later identifies as the brake light. So the brakes are going out in our van? In our one remaining vehicle that is taking us on a road trip in a few short weeks? It's telling me this at the precise moment that we are dropping off our other vehicle with charred internal regions that threatened to set the whole engine on fire for an as-of-yet completely unidentified reason?

So tomorrow's going to be a juggling act, what with (yes, more) therapy appointments and dance recital rehearsals and oh, we're out of milk making it necessary for me to have a car tomorrow, in this typical midwestern American city with no ready public transportation to fall back on, broken down cars and rising gas prices or no.

I'm thankful -- I really, really am. Because things could have been so much worse, could have taken such a different turn at so many points. The flooding receded. The clouds swirled away. The power came back on. The car didn't spontaneously combust. We still have one car. So I'm just praying. You know? For just a little break. Because I actually like rain. I love rain. But maybe, just for a day, a little sunshine could be in order? It'd go really well with those curtains I still hope to get for Olivia.