A Utah Family Travel Writer's Adventures with Altitude
*Because my mother-in-law took Hadley for the weekend…
*Because Jamie and I were supposed to have a fun and relaxing time in the mountains…
*Because I exploited Jeek on his birthday and he cursed me….
I HAVE BRONCHITIS!
P.S. Is this what my mentor Earl Hickey (on NBC’s My Name is Earl) meant by KARMA?????
Special thanks to Jeek for being such a good sport about his birthday “celebrations.” Well, kind of. Does his rebuttal, “As for revenge, I have a few things in mind…you better watch your back, Amber” sound rather bitter to you? Come to think of it, I thought I spotted a sniper atop my neighbor’s roof today. Hmmmm….
My illness last week passed without much incident except for a brutal cough. Last night, I was hacking so badly I raced to the toilet in fear I would lose my dinner. Sympathetic Haddie followed me. I was so touched by her sensitivity until she pushed me out of the way to see what I’d hacked up. She’s a sick, sick child. We’re off to the doc today (for me, not my warped little Hurricane!)
Finally, the results are in for Ralphie’s hot leathah walls in Extreme Makeover: Den Edition. We still need to load the books back on the shelf but you get the idea. And yes, that stupid bobble head in the upper right-hand corner was the first to be moved back in. And yes again, I did intentionally cut it out of the picture. When we first hung Jamie’s framed baseball cards, I made the comment, “They don’t really match the red wall!” He-who-is-obsessively-protective-about-his-collection retorted, “Of COURSE they do. They’re the Red Sox.” Baaaaad.
Any feedback on the before-and-after shots? (Or rather, the after-and-before shots due to the way the dumb system uploaded them!) Note: I am not responsible for the hurricane that hit the room prior to its makeover. Remember, it is 1 of 2 rooms of which Jamie is in charge. You don’t even wanna see his garage…..
Today’s blog is in his own words, relaying a mishap he had while on the job (he somehow rose above his pink elephant traumas to become a chemical engineer). All comments/well-wishers from yesterday and today will be forwarded to him as part of his birthday present (yep, I’m too cheap to buy him something).
“I was working in Newark, NJ in a beautiful industrial area. If you aren’t in the stolen-car market and didn’t know, Newark is the auto-theft capital of the United States, a fact that local residents hold in high esteem.
(editor’s note: boring but critically important Jeek engineer talk in this paragraph)
Part of the day’s task was to test storage tanks for steel thickness, corrosion, check for leaks, etc. The tank in question was situated in a ‘tank farm’, where about fifteen 20,000 gallons tanks full of a few different sorts of hazardous materials are found. Surrounding all tank farms is a concrete berm that prevents a rupture from draining into the storm sewers. There are always minor leaks and every now and then spills in this bermed area, so there are typically nasty chemicals on the ground, pumps and pipes, etc. There is usually a sump area in the tank farm so that in the event of a spill or a rain event, any built-up material in the tank farm can be pumped out to a tank truck or the treatment system.
(editor’s note: you made it. Keep reading)
Well, I was carrying an instrument called a Photo Ionization detector that can measure air contaminants that is used to verify it was safe to enter an empty tank and test it (the instrument in question costs about $10,000). Typical to NJ weather, it was raining and there were a few inches of liquid built up in the tank farm. I entered the tank farm to go do my readings and all of a sudden I stepped in the sump and fell flat on my stomach in this chemical rain mixture. Because there was a sheen of an oily substance on the water I failed to see where the sump area was and didn’t notice that the cover that normally covers the hole was off.
I quickly ran to the plant area, took my protective clothing off (which apparently does nothing when one goes swimming), and turned the shower on. As a note, the disgusting showering facilities at an eighty -year-old paint-manufacturing plant might have done as much damage (mental, if not physical) to me as the actual fall did.
I have not experienced any after effects from the experience, though I have some weird places that have been growing hair on my body (most likely the fault of my parents/genes). My wife Shannon is expecting any day now, and I am anticipating to see if in reality it is a boy as indicated from the ultrasound and not a third leg!
(editor’s note: a somehow befitting ending after the trauma of the pink elephant; the well-being of his future children seems to always be in question)
Wow, this Jeek-bashing is turning into a family affair (oh, BTW, I hope you’re having a good birthday, Jeek).
My dad just e-mailed me this story I’d never heard about. In Papa Canuck’s own words:
“Amber,Here is another classic Jade story that has been told and retold many times!!All our 3 children were volleyball players, and since all 3 were “setters” a favorite pastime was the annoying habit of practicing their setting skills by endlessly bouncing a volleyball off the walls inside our house. Well this one time Jade was bouncing the ball off the walls inside the bathroom.
We finally noticed that things went quiet in the bathroom. No more noise of a ball being bounced endlessly off the bathroom walls. And after the longest time, Jade finally emerged from the bathroom. Well, to our suprise we found that Jade had broken the bathroom mirror and that he had taped the mirror so that no one could tell that it was broken. The strange thing about his taping job was that he used BLACK HOCKEY TAPE.”
Subtle, Jeek. Very subtle.
It is commonly known that I suffer from a condition called O.S.S. (Only-Sister Syndrome), which often evolves into S.O.S. under dire circumstances.
Having two ultra-competitive and ultra-insensitive brothers would drive lesser people over the edge (case in point: we once had another sister but she was weak and they ate her). As a Survivor, I have learned a few tricks of the trade, and one of them is exploitation.
Since it is my baby brother Jeek’s birthday tomorrow, allow me to share a few incriminating stories about him to help with my own healing. Y’see Jeek was actually born “Jade.” Around the “Tween” years when he refused to shower and constantly grabbed his crotch, the words “Jade” and “Geek” melded into one. Prior to their wedding, his wife once commented, “Funny. I never thought I’d marry a man named Jeek.” The joke’s on her.
It started young. When he was less than a year old, Mom had just changed baby Jeek and had left his diaper off while he played with his toy train. After a few minutes, we all heard a blood-curdling scream from the next room. We raced in there and the little pink elephant caboose had diverted off the track and onto poor little Jeek’s manhood. Even worse was his little trunk (the elephant’s, that is) was securely fastened around its prey. Poor little Jeek was inconsolable. Imagine the even poorer ER staff when they had to keep a straight face during the incident we refer to as only “The Pink Elephant.”
Every marriage has someone who’s usually right (or at least thinks they are!) Ours is Jamie, and to my chagrin, he usually is. But for the first time in a long time, I won out. Our disagreement was over the bushel of Halloween candy I bought. Jamie said it was waaay too much (his argument was based on the fact that last year, much or our area was still under construction so we had very few kids come by.)
Last night was a different story. The evening’s festivities began with a neighborhood costume parade with 200+ parents and kids…so many they had to close the street down. And where did the parade end? Smack in front of our house. And as soon as those kids saw me with The Bowl, it was beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Worse than the first day of hunting season, worse than the day-after-Thanksgiving sales. These little moochers seriously ran towards me screaming “Candyyyyyyy!” I had about 100 kids those first 10 minutes and they just kept coming allll night long.
As for our little Mooch, she put up her usual fuss when I put on her princess dress. I reasoned with her that if she had any deduction capabilities, she’d figure out every time she puts on that dress she gets candy. And then something clicked for my little tempest; she finally got it.
When her trick-or-treating time came, she was a whirlwind. Our little 17-month-old Hurricane Hadley grabbed Jamie’s hand and went to each house, stuck out her bag to receive candy, gave the obligatory smile and then led Jamie (very business-like) down our street. I think she’ll go pro next year.
When she got back, she dumped her stash, did a dance only a black child with rhythm could pull off and then delved in. We hadn’t seen a scene like this since she ate half a full-size cake for her 1st birthday (see write-up in the local paper). http://www.yourhub.com/Story.aspx?contentid=4482
A sugar rush last night was followed by a sugar hangover this morning. She claims it was all worth it.
Hurricane Hadley learned how to say “no” today. Emphatically.
