Too Much Time On My Hands

It was quiet around my house last week. Gary was in Virginia for work, and Logan was at summer camp. Which left just me and the dog; a situation that had the dog routinely going to check bedrooms and doors to see where everybody was.

I don’t necessarily mind being alone. Gary’s work schedule is such that I am alone a lot, especially when Logan is in school. The difference is they eventually come home.

Last week, Gary was gone for six days and Logan was gone for five days. I had big plans of getting a lot of things done with all of that free time. Closets could be organized, drawers could be cleaned out, cabinets could be streamlined. Clutter could be banished once again, with no one there to see what was going to the curb.

I accomplished....pretty much none of that. I slept, a lot. I’m still trying to catch up from some of my Mayo madness. I went shopping with my Mom one day, and did normal routine stuff that I would do every other day.

The one thing I did differently was what I chose to eat. My guys could eat meat and nothing but meat happily for the rest of their lives. I could eat fruit and vegetables and nothing but that happily for the rest of my life. We compromise on our menu. They eat veggies, grudgingly, and I cook meat for them but end up not eating my portion. They are suspicious of any veggies they haven’t already tried, and aren’t into experimenting in the kitchen.

I love to experiment, and love almost every type of fruit and vegetable. I hate brussel sprouts and cauliflower. Other than that, bring it on. This week, without the guys, I got to eat the food they are particulary opposed to. I know could cook it for myself anytime and sometimes I do. But usually, it just isn’t worth the trouble.

The dog, who enthusiastically samples anything we give him, occasionally questions my judgement by sniffing my offering and then walking away. Once he sniffed, then backed away in fear. Logan thought that ought to tell me something. When the dog that has no problem eating all manner of objects, including things that aren't food, has enough sense to back away; maybe I shouldn’t eat it either.

My kitchen was crowded with mushrooms and artichokes and broccoli and strawberries and canteloupe and all manner of good things last week; including the ingredients to make quiche; something Logan refers to as "egg pie."

I cooked my way through the week, waiting on my guys to come home. They didn’t complain about the what that gross stuff was, and weren’t there to make remarks about the foreign things I was eating. I couldn’t threaten to make them eat it if they didn’t pipe down.

It was fun for about three days. Half the fun of cooking the things they deem disgusting is hearing them moan and groan about it, and the very occasional times that they actually like something they didn’t think they would. I have the pleasure of knowing they have expanded their limited horizon just a little.

My guys are home now, and all is well with the universe again. I got my food fix in. Gary got his business taken care, and Logan got his fun taken care of. We are back to our version of normal, which is not normal at all. It works for us, and that’s all that matters.

A Detour Through Disaster

The past few weeks have been unusual ones for me. I went to Mayo the last week in May for a fairly new procedure that we have been doing. This was my third time to have it done, and each time is slightly different. That part is planned.

This time, something went wrong. That part wasn’t planned, and meant we had to go right back up to Mayo. Fast; or, as fast as you can make a 12 hour trip. We left within two hours of finding out we had to go back. We had been hearing about flooding in Wisconsin and in Des Moines. But Wisconsin was east of where we were going, and Des Moines was west of where we were going. We weren’t particularly concerned, and the fact was we had to get up there, regardless of what was going on with the weather.

My mom kept calling, updating us on the breaking news she was watching. Storms were adding to the problems in Iowa, and flooding was occurring in several cities we would be going through. The further north we went, the more often Mom called, and the more concerned she got. Things were getting bad in a hurry, and we were getting closer of the worst of it.

Still, there wasn’t much we could do. There aren’t that many ways to get to Rochester, and we had to be there by morning. We couldn’t stop, and stopping would only give the weather time to get worse. My first indication of the flooding was in Iowa City. The Iowa River started about three miles before it should have.

When we got to Cedar Rapids about a half hour later, I was shocked. I knew they had flooded, but I had no idea it was that bad. The Cedar River runs through downtown, with pretty little bridges that cross over it every so often. The interstate runs above most of downtown, so you can look down into the city. Businesses had water up to their windows, and stop lights were flashing. It surprised me that electricity was still on, because the water was running so swiftly that there was literally a current to it.

We tried to detour around Waterloo on the advice of truckers at a gas station. We managed to miss the first turn and ended up in downtown anyway, at the edge of the water. Sigh. We found a friendly fireman, who got us back on track.

The last 108 miles of the trip was some of the most stressful of my life. It was raining harder than I have ever seen it rain. We couldn’t use our high beams because they glared back, like in fog. We literally watched the center yellow line and the right white line to keep ourselves on the road. And, it appeared to be raining frogs. The critters were coming from everywhere, hopping across the pavement. I have no idea why, other than perhaps they were drowning in the downpour and trying to get to higher ground.

When we finally made it to the hotel around 2 a.m. Thursday, we were all so keyed up none of us could sleep. I think I finally managed to drift off around 5, but then had to get up at 7 so I could get ready for my appointment.

Mayo got me fixed, my regular doctor did a little fine tuning and a little fuming over the other procedure, and we got back on the road headed home Friday morning after I spent Thursday night recovering from Mayo and their ever present needles.

We had not been that concerned coming up. We were truly worried coming home, having watched local news for a day. Roads were closed, entire cities were evacuated; and we had no idea what the best way to get home would be. We couldn’t go east or west because major interstates were shut down in both directions. We decided to try our regular route and take whatever detours were necessary.

I was simply awestruck at what a difference 48 hours made. Waterloo was completely shut off, several miles before we made it to the city. This time we successfully detoured around it.
Cedar Rapids had one lane open on the Interstate, the rest was reserved for emergency vehicles only. Every exit, every roadway had detour or road closed signs up. Businesses that had water up to the windows on Wednesday night now were under water. The water had completely covered the bridges that ran under the interstate, and was lapping at the supports of the road we were on. Railroad bridges were covered, like they didn’t even exist. I’ve been through there enough to know they are down there, but the water made it look like a large lake.

Wednesday, only downtown was affected. Friday, neighborhoods miles away from the city center was affected. The water just kept going as we drove, for mile after mile after mile. I was shocked that so much water could have come in so little time, but there it was. Seeing it on the news is different from driving through it, from seeing the devastation in person.

As we drove and the water just kept on going, I realized the extent of the devastation for these people. Their beautiful city, their homes, their businesses and jobs all destroyed. Thousands of people in crisis, one that will continue for months if not years.

We left on a trip up to Minnesota because I was having a crisis. I had only myself on my mind. Today marks the sixth anniversary of my illness. It is a date I hoped not to mark, or at least that I hoped to be doing significantly better by.

Driving home through the devastated cities, through the destruction something as simple as water can bring, made me realize that my problems are so very insignificant. I have a home, safe and dry. I am in no danger of losing it; of wondering where I will go and how long I will have to stay there. I’m not dealing with sludge and toxic substances in my home, with everything I own destroyed even though the water is gone.

Everyone suffers. Everyone has problems. Everyone has pain of some type; either physical or mental or emotional. It’s funny how things work. I had to take a detour to get back on track.

Racing the River

I went up to the Mayo Clinic recently. We basically follow the Mississsippi River up through Missouri, Iowa, and Minnesota. I was shocked at the devastation the floods have brought, especially in some cities like Cedar Rapids, Iowa.I could waste words, but that is what it would be. A waste.

My editor, Andy, is from Cedar Rapids. His words, and pictures, are much more eloquent than mine could ever be. You can link to his blog on the bottom of this page by clicking on "The Fast Talker" or by going to http://thefasttalker.blogspot.com

It's something you should do. It speaks for itself.

Capturing Arkansas

I’ve found a new hobby, and it is fast becoming addictive. It combines two things I like very much, photography and the state of Arkansas.

The Arkansas Democrat Gazette is publishing a coffee table art book filled with photos of Arkansas. The book is unique because the pictures are by everyday people, about everyday things.

Anyone can submit a photo, and the pictures get voted on. The most popular pictures will be in the book. It’s a big book, though, something like 128 pages, so that’s a lot of pictures.
The chapters include Scapes of All Sorts, People, Nature, Sports and Recreation, Everyday Life, Newsworthy Events, Pets, and Institutions.

Although they obviously would like for you to buy the book, you don’t have to. Looking at the pictures, submitting photos, and voting for the photos that will be in the book is all free. This is the best part of the process.

Arkansas, and the people that make up this wonderful, wacky state, is unique. Professional photographers are fine. But they can’t be everywhere all the time. The best pictures are those that just happen suddenly. The first time your child gets a taste of something sour. That picture of a tiny newborn baby in Grandpa’s big arms. Your dog deciding he wants to jump in the river too, and then deciding he very much does not want to be there.

Sunsets. Sunrises. Puppies. First smiles. First steps. Rainbows. An unexpected something; and a quick click that allows the moment to live forever.

I believe the book has the potential to be great. I don’t care if you buy it or not. I’m going to, because I love Arkansas and have a thing for pictures. But I have found just going to the website at www.capturearkansas.com and looking at the pictures is a wonderful way to relax.

Some of the pictures make me laugh. Some make me sad. Quite a few take my breath away. Arkansas is a beautiful state, and the Scapes of all Sorts chapter is worth spending time on, especially at the end of a hectic day. If you can’t take the time to travel to the places yourself, going there on-line is the next best thing.

Some are the ordinary elevated to the extraordinary. An elderly farmer with his crop at the end of a long day, decades of experience etched in every wrinkle. A child at the fair, her tiny face covered in cotton candy while lights swirl behind her. A bee sleeping on a flower, pollen clinging to his wings.

For every picture I see, I want to see a few more. It’s addictive. I’ve seen a good bit of Arkansas, but I haven’t been everywhere and seen everybody. Through these pictures, I can do that.
I’ve submitted a few pictures, just for the fun of it. Anybody can. You can watch how well your pictures are doing, or not, on a personal page. A few pictures I thought might do okay are tanking. So much for my judgement. Logan considers himself in a race with his Papa, because they are in some of the pictures.

When Logan’s picture pulls ahead, he feels victorious. When Dad’s picture is in the lead, Logan isn’t quite so happy. The best picture so far is of me and my dad fishing at the White River, which isn’t making Logan all that thrilled. The worst picture is one with Logan on the U.S.S. Razorback submarine; a unique picture Logan loves. He very much doesn’t like being on the bottom of the pile, and thinks maybe we might want to delete his Papa from the group.

It’s all in fun, and there is certainly no guarantee any of my pictures will make it in the book. With the really fantastic pictures submitted so far, I honestly doubt they will. I don’t care though. Putting them in was fun, watching them go up and down the scale is fun, and seeing all the wonderful other pictures is more than fun.

Capturing Arkansas in photographs is a great idea, and watching the creative process as it happens really appeals to me. Maybe it is because, as a writer, I edit things all the time. Leave this in, take that out, this would be better there. Having a say in which pictures are great and which are not so great makes me feel like I have a part in shaping the book. Since I am a bit of a book fanatic, this also appeals to me.

I’ve lived in Arkansas for most of my life. The eight years I didn’t live here, I very much wanted to come back. Now I have a way to see Arkansas any time I want. Thousands of pictures of things and people and activities you would only see here, in the place I absolutely love to call home.