Do You Think You're Special, Recruit? Episode 2

One day in the summer of 1988, I got a call from the local Navy recruiter.  He wanted me to come to his office and talk about how I could "be all you can be."  The Navy wasn't my first choice.  I was still waiting for the call from the Coast Guard recruiter.  But Fall was approaching fast and I had to do something with my life.

I didn't grow up in a military family.  My grandpa was in the Marine Corps but that was during World War 2 when every able-bodied young man was in uniform.  One of my uncles had been in the Army during the mid-fifties but he never talked about it with me.  My dad was medically disqualified for service in Vietnam.  All of his brothers were too old for the draft and my mom's brothers were too young.  None of my older cousins had chosen military service.  And so far, I am still the only one of my generation to serve.

Anyway, I had a general idea of what Navy life was like.  I'd seen a commercial that showed a group of young sailors, wearing their dress whites, enjoying a rickshaw ride in Hong Kong.  Our neighbor's son had been in the Navy.  His younger sister had a shirt he had bought for her in some exotic place called Djibouti.  And one of my dad's buddies had been an airplane mechanic in the Philippines.  He spent a lot of time scuba diving.

Liberty in Hong Kong, souvenir t-shirts from the Horn of Africa, and swimming in tropical waters.  It sounded pretty cool.

And the Navy had ships.  Ships that travelled the world.  Instead of getting stuck for four years in some God-forsaken hell-hole, ships stop for a few days in hell-holes and then leave.  You never have to sleep in the dirt either when you're in the Navy.  Your bed travels with you.

Because it seemed like I would never get a call from the Coast Guard, I made an appointment to talk to the Navy recruiter.

Do You Think You're Special, Recruit? Episode 1

Cast your mind back to the summer of 1988.

Ronald Reagan was in his last few months in the White House.  Depeche Mode had just played the most friggin awesome concert in the history of British electro-pop concerts at the Rose Bowl.  A Mustang GT, one of the fastest cars on the road, had all of 205 horsepower.  Gas was about a dollar a gallon.  And I was a recent high school graduate with my entire life ahead of me.

I had finished school with decent grades and a good SAT score.  What I didn't have was a strong desire to go to college.  I was pretty tired of school at that point.  I didn't want to go to college right away and I didn't have the money to spend a year abroad.

I had only a bare outline of a plan for my future.  It was something like this:

1. See the world
   
2. Save money for college
   
3. Get lunch

I had thought about joining the Coast Guard.  It seemed like a pretty good deal.  I'd get assigned to a small boat crew on the coast of Oregon or Maine and spend my days rescuing distressed boaters and interdicting drug smugglers.  It would be pretty cool.

But Coast Guard recruiters don't call lazy high school graduates.

So I spent the summer sleeping late, working at a Mexican restaurant, rebuilding the engine on my 1967 Chevy truck with my friend Eric, and hanging out with my sort-of girlfriend Barbara.  One day, my hands covered in grease, I got a call from the Marine Corps recruiter.  He wanted to talk to me about all the great things the Marine Corps could do for me.

I had seen "Full Metal Jacket."  Even though my Grandpa was a proud Marine, I wanted nothing to do with the Marine Corps.  All the yelling and push-ups and marching.  No thanks.

And then one day, the Navy recruiter called.

Heard in the Car

Aidan: Knock, knock.

Abigail: Who cares?

Secrets

The other day Tabitha was looking on Expedia for vacation ideas. She told me she was having trouble finding some of the smaller resorts. Expedia seems to focus primarily on larger resorts and chains.

After a while, she told me she found something. I was doing something else so I didn't have time to look. A few minutes later, I asked her what she wanted to show me. She said, "Nevermind."

The next day I saw a charge for Expedia on our checking account. I put two and two together and asked if she made a reservation.

She did. But she's not telling. (She actually offered to tell me but I declined)

I've got a birthday coming up and our 13th anniversary is only two days after that. The best birthday / anniversary present I can think of is a couple of days alone with Tabitha. That and a Porsche 911 GT3 but I'll take the time alone with Tabitha.

I can't wait.

Ouch

We rolled through the Drive-Thru at McDonald's the other day to get the kids their dinner. Spare me your condemnation of McDonald's. I know it's crappy food.

Anyway, instead of a cheap plastic toy in the Happy Meal, there was a Kidz Bop sampler CD. Parents are probably all to familiar with Kidz Bop, particularly if you watch television with your kids. The Kidz Bop commercials feature overly enthusiastic pre-pubescent hipsters singing the latest top-40 hits. I usually try to change the channel.

I have so far avoided any exposure to Kidz Bop.

Today, Aidan wanted to listen to the CD. It was, in a word, painful. I can imagine the recording session going something like this:

Kidz finish singing last line of latest Jon Mayer hit.

Producer: That was great kidz. Now do it again, but make it louder.

They're not exactly singing. I think they're belting. My only hope is that Aidan will succeed in scratching the CD so I won't have to listen to it again.

The Little Things Add Up

The economy is in the crapper right now. The government is running around like a trillionaire chicken with it's head cut off, spewing money from it's gaping neck wound. Like many companies, my employer is looking for ways to save money.

They've reduced staffing, delayed acquisition and maintenance of equipment, and reorganized departments. Lately we've received a flurry of e-mails requesting employees change the way we go about doing business.

They want us to stop dialing directory assistance from company telephones.

They want us to use the Internet to look for telephone numbers. Apparently, we have been spending unknown tens of dollars calling directory assistance. Calls to directory assistance are going to break the back of my company. The situation is so dire, they have rewritten policy to prohibit the use of directory assistance.

Not a problem. As long as they don't restrict my internet access.

Vomit - It's Not Just the Contents of Your Belly...

... It's an adventure.

So anyway, Aidan and I are on our way back home today. We're cruising along in my car when Aidan tells me, "Daddy, my tummy hurts."

This can't be good.

Maybe the donut he had for breakfast didn't agree with him (not likely). Maybe he is just hungry.

A moment later I hear the tell-tale burp. It's immediately followed by the sound of a liquid splashing in the back seat of my car. Between spasms, Aidan cries.

I press a little harder on the accelerator as the smell of partly digested milk wafts through the car. The speed limit is now only a suggestion as I race home. The immediate crisis past, Aidan falls asleep covered in little chunks of curdled milk. We arrive home. I peel Aidan out of his soiled clothing and put him in the bath. While he bathes, I clean.

The back seat of my car hasn't been this clean for a long time. Aidan is worn out so he has been sitting on my lap while we watch TV.

I love my son. I hope someday, he remembers this and cleans up after me.

Vacation?

For spring break this year, Tabitha made reservations for us in Las Vegas for Friday night and then three nights in Sedona, Arizona. We were going to return on Tuesday because I had a work commitment.

I brought along my computer with the hope of updating the blog every night like I have on past trips. I figured I would start with the obligatory photo of the kids frolicking at a rest stop along the interstate. I would then post a few photos of the family enjoying our time in exotic Las Vegas. Tabitha had other ideas:

"Why did you bring your computer?"

"To update my blog."

"Why don't you spend a little time with the family instead."

"Umm... okay."

Abigail and Aidan try to not get blown away in the desert.

We arrived at the Venetian in Las Vegas on Friday afternoon and checked into our room. While Tabitha and Aidan napped, I showed Abigail the canals of Venice (in Las Vegas). We had dinner at one of the restaurants in the hotel where Aidan pulled his usual routine of screaming his head off, refusing to eat, and then complaining he was hungry. The waiters and other diners were amazingly accommodating.

Aidan, in a more contemplative state of mind, enjoyed the wide ledge of our suite window.

We hoped to show the kids the lights of the Strip at night but we were all too tired to go out after our post-dinner gelato. We were the earliest people to bed in the entire city on Friday night. We checked out on Saturday morning and drove over to the Bellagio. We parked the Jeep and checked out the tulips and butterflies in the Bellagio's lobby. We walked to the M&M Store and chose our own colors (pastels for Abigail, blues for Aidan, and dark chocolate for me).

Abigail in the butterfly house at Bellagio.

We travelled east from Las Vegas, crossed the Hoover Dam, stopped for lunch in the bustling metropolis of Kingman (actually much bigger than I remembered), and headed east on I-40. The plume of smoke on the horizon turned out to be a fully-engulfed semi, stopping westbound traffic for miles. We soon arrived in Flagstaff and headed south on Arizona 89 to Sedona.

My family standing in front of some rocks in Sedona.

So far the trip was unfolding as planned. We checked into our hotel in Sedona, went for a chilly nighttime swim, and ate a delicious dinner at the hotel. Aidan again pulled his usual stunt (Hint to waiters - get the food out fast. Hint to Tim - don't take your son to nice restaurants). We went to bed early again.

Abigail enjoying a swim.

Aidan loves shallow water.

Warming up by the fire.

On Saturday, Abigail complained her eye hurt. It looked normal so we didn't think too much about it. On Sunday, the skin around her right eye was a little red and puffy. Abigail said it hurt more. That night, I could hear her crying in her sleep. At about 3 AM I woke up to check on her. Her right eye was swollen and red.

I called Kaiser to find out if they had any facilities in Arizona (they don't). I spoke to a nurse and described what Abigail was experiencing. I couldn't tell if she had a fever but she seemed a little warm. The nurse recommended we go to the local Urgent Care in the morning.

Even the view from the hospital is beautiful in Sedona.

On Monday morning, I took Abigail to Urgent Care. The doctor was concerned so he called the local ER. Dr. Dean at the ER wanted to examine Abigail. I dropped Tabitha and Aidan off at the hotel and took Abigail to the ER. By this time, Abigail had a fever and the skin around the eye was very red and swollen. Dr. Dean determined she probably had peri-orbital cellulitis, a serious infection of the skin around the eye. Abigail had a CT scan and they started IV antibiotics.

Dr. Dean laid out the options. He recommended we admit her to the hospital to continue the antibiotics. The hospital in Sedona did not have pediatric beds so she would have to go to Flagstaff. If untreated, the infection could migrate behind her eye causing loss of vision and possibly death. Dr. Dean said, "This is a medical emergency."

Sedated.

After collecting myself, I called the hotel and made arrangements to check out that night. They made reservations for a hotel in Flagstaff for us and called a taxi to bring Tabitha and Aidan to the hospital. Tabitha rode in the ambulance with Abigail to Flagstaff while Aidan and I drove the Jeep.

Later that night, I dropped Tabitha and Aidan off at our hotel in Flagstaff and returned to the hospital to spend the night. Abigail wanted to go home. She was frightened of getting more shots and staying in the hospital. I told her she had to stay in the hospital so she could get better. She had a difficult time the first night.

Abigail's infection began to improve after the first night but she was still running a slight fever. Tabitha had her hands full trying to keep Aidan occupied. Grandma Terry offered to drive out to Flagstaff to see Abigail and take Aidan back home with her. She drove to Flagstaff Tuesday evening, spent the night at the hotel with Tabitha and Aidan, visited Abigail on Wednesday morning, and then returned to California with Aidan (900 miles of driving in 24 hours).

Abigail was feeling much better. She drank chocolate milk, watched movies, colored, charmed the nurses, and received a syringe full of antibiotics twice a day. I read, updated my Facebook, and drove back and forth between the hospital and the hotel. I slept in Abigail's room every night on a fold-out bed. Tabitha read, swam in the hotel pool, napped, and waited for me to pick her up so she could visit Abigail.

Coloring books!

A delicious hospital meal.

She's getting out today!

On Friday morning, Abigail was released from the hospital. I was also glad to be out of the hospital so I could wear pajamas and sleep in a real bed. We checked out of our hotel and drove home that afternoon.

Abigail on a rock at a rest stop on I-40.

Tabitha is engrossed in her book.

Abigail takes a good photo.

Abigail is doing much better. She will take oral antibiotics for another week. She returned to school today. We are thankful for all of the prayers from our friends and family members.

I picked up a flu bug at the hospital and spent Saturday and Sunday in bed. I missed an awards ceremony for work on Thursday, used up two weeks of vacation time instead of one, and paid an extra $700 for a hotel I used only for a shower and breakfast. Thankfully, our insurance will pay for the hospital stay. In all, it was not a very good vacation.

I love the Flagstaff area. It's close to the Grand Canyon and is surrounded by trees. It has a local university (Northern Arizona) and a population that enjoys outdoor activities. I'd really like to visit some time.

That's Smart

Nice smile.

I dropped my car off at the dealer this morning for the 80,000 mile service. One of the perks when you spend big money is they provide you with a rental car. So after a few minutes, Penny from Enterprise arrived to set me up with a temporary ride.

The Enterprise office is at our local Mercedes dealer. While Penny got my paperwork going, I strolled around the showroom ogling the German iron. There was an SL65 AMG Black ($304,000!), a McLaren SLR convertible (used, low mileage creampuff), and a classic 300SL roadster set up for rallying. Dreams in metal.

Anyway, Penny tells me they have a Smart available or I can take a Chevy Impala. I had to think about it for a second before I chose the Smart. For those of you not up on your cars, the Smart is a two seat city car manufactured by Mercedes. It is powered by a rear mounted 3 cylinder motor and is short enough to park nose first against the curb. I've been wanting to drive one of these things for a long time.

The ignition key is between the seats next to the shift lever (like a Saab). I got it started and discovered the Smart is tough to drive smoothly around town. The transmission shifts very slowly which saps forward momentum. It's worse when you are going slow so you just have to put the boot to it. The brakes are a little grabby but you'd probably get used to them with more time in the car.

On the freeway, the things goes surprisingly well. Eighty miles an hour is no problem but seventy seems to be the sweet spot. The ride is pretty stiff and it wanders a little bit, but that is due to the short wheelbase. It's so little you can zip in and out of traffic with no problem. You can pass cars and drive up hills without losing too much speed. You're not stuck in the slow lane watching the world pass you by. The motor is a bit loud and sounds like a tractor but it has decent power.

Leather!

The Smart is strictly a two-seater. The front seats remind me of Tab's old VW bug. You're going to rub shoulders with your passenger but there is plenty of head and leg room. You sit kind of high in the car and there is no height adjustment (that I could find). It feels a little weird.

There's an engine down there.

The rear luggage compartment is large enough for two people to go on a week long road trip if they don't bring bicycles and surfboards. Forget about packing a stroller.

No tachometer.

The interior looks good and is put together nicely. It's very distinctive and stylish.

The best part is how little space this car takes up. You can touch the back window while sitting in the driver's seat. This would be a perfect commuter car for someone who has a relatively short drive.

Would I buy one? Probably not. I've got two little kids to ferry around and a 65 mile (one-way) commute. I see this car as being a great choice for empty nesters and people without children. If they could squeeze in two more seats and make it only slightly larger, then I might think about it.

Postscript:

Is it safe? It's probably as safe as can be for a car so small. It's got airbags tucked in everywhere and a high strength steel safety cage. Top Gear in England crashed one into a concrete barrier at 70 miles an hour and it held up very well. Just remember there is always a larger vehicle waiting to crash into you. It's better to avoid the accident in the first place.

Mmmm! -- The Joy of Porridge

Oatmeal is the perfect breakfast food. It's got complex carbs, protein and it's loaded with fiber. There's no better way to start a chilly day than a steaming hot bowl of oatmeal.

I've found three types of oatmeal:

1. Rolled oats.
2. Steel cut "Irish" oats.
3. Stone-ground "Scottish" oats.

You're probably familiar with rolled oats. Quaker rolled oats in some form or other are found in pantries around the country. Most Americans have started their day at least once under the beneficent gaze of the smiling Quaker. Rolled oats are made by steaming the whole oat kernel, rolling them flat, and then toasting them lightly.

Rolled oats are perfectly good. They are easy to prepare and have a delightfully creamy texture. They also make really good cookies.

Irish Oatmeal is not as common here. I've seen them sold under the name of "McCann's," "Coaches Oats," and Quaker. Steel cut oats are made by cutting the oat kernel. They take quite a bit longer to prepare because there is less starch exposed. The last pot of steel cut oats I made simmered on the stove for about 40 minutes before we could eat them. Steel cut oats have a nuttier texture and aren't nearly as creamy as rolled oats.

If you don't mind standing over the stove for a good part of the morning, I recommend you try steel cut oatmeal.

My favorite is Scottish oatmeal. It is made by doing a very rough grind of the oat kernels. I've bought Scottish oatmeal from Bob's Red Mill and in bulk at my neighborhood Winco. Scottish oatmeal combines the best qualities of rolled oats and steel cut oats. They cook much faster than steel cut oats while retaining some of the nutty texture and they are creamy like rolled oats.

Here is how I make my Scottish oatmeal.

3/4 cup milk

3/4 cup water

1/2 cup oats

a little salt

I combine the ingredients in a small saucepan and then simmer over low heat until it thickens. I like to flavor my oatmeal with Billington's Dark Brown Molasses Sugar and a little half and half.

Fry up some bacon and you have the perfect meal.

It Almost Never Works...

... but it's not a waste of time.

I've been trained in CPR for about 20 years. I've seen it performed many times but I've never had an opportunity to put my training into use until last night.

Here's the situation:

Wife finds 60-year-old husband collapsed and unresponsive next to the bed. She calls 9-1-1. The dispatchers coach her as she starts CPR.

We arrive minutes later.

My first thought as I walked in the room was, "He's dead." He's not breathing and has no pulse. He's lying on his back next to the bed. His face is blue and his eyes are open and unresponsive. We move him to the middle of the room.

My partner starts chest compressions. My other partner opens his airway. I fumble with my air-mask (I should have practiced putting it together). I finally put it together and start rescue breathing.

We continue for several minutes until the experts arrive. They transport the patient to the hospital after working on him for about ten minutes. The paramedics tell us he has a chance.

He's pronounced dead shortly after arriving at the ER.

My partner says, "I'd like to see someone recover just once."

CPR is useful only to keep blood flowing through a victim's body until they get to the hospital. It's not like the movies where the victim coughs, draws in a deep breath, opens his eyes and lives happily ever after. If you need CPR, you are probably already dead.

But here's the deal - unless the victim shows obvious signs of death (rigor mortis, lividity, decomposition, decapitation) - you start CPR.

We owe it to the family to do everything we can to save their loved one.

Ya Gotta Start 'Em Young

Damning with Faint Praise

You might be familiar with Red Bull. It's that ubiquitous energy drink that tastes a little like carbonated cough syrup. I've never been a fan of the beverage. However, Tabitha has taken a real liking to the sugar free version, much to the detriment of our family budget.

Anyway, Red Bull has started selling a cola in our area. I'm a big fan of soda pop and I like to try new versions of old stand-bys. Make a craft brewed root beer, bottle it in brown glass, slap on an old-timey label and I'll probably buy it. Make a new cola that promises something a little different and I'll probably buy it.

So I bought a four pack of Red Bull cola this weekend.

Red Bull cola is "a stimulating refreshment with ingredients from 100% natural sources." That's got to be good. The ingredients include some things I've heard of - vanilla, mustard seed, pine, and cardamom. And a few things that I haven't - galangal and corn mint. On the plus side it has real sugar, not high fructose corn syrup.

The taste?

It's... um... interesting.

It's different.

It's not as sweet as the other big name colas.

It's definitely drinkable.

Ya Gotta Know a Little Bit About Football

I took journalism my freshman year in high school. I had big dreams of being a reporter - notebook and pencil in hand, I would go to the scene of breaking news, collect information, and craft a well-written hard hitting piece. With my name on it of course.

One of my classmates was writing articles for our local give-away newspaper. The paper needed someone to cover high-school football games. My friend recommended me for the job.

There was a hitch. I didn't really know anything about football.

I knew that one side tried to move the ball by either running it or throwing it. The other side tried to stop them. A touchdown was worth 6 points and a field goal was 3 points. The finer points of the game were lost on me. I didn't know what the positions were other than the quarterback. I couldn't tell a linebacker from defensive back. I wasn't off to a good start.

I told my dad I was going to be writing about a football game. He replied, "You don't know anything about football." This time, he was right.

I looked up "football" in my handy encyclopedia. I might as well have been reading Latin.

My first game as a sportswriter was away for a non-league showdown. I rode to the game on the bus with the players. Our coach was an old-school son of New Mexico coal miners. The players wore their helmets in the bus.

Anyway, during the game I tried to take as many notes as possible. I just wrote down player numbers in the hope I would be able to match them to a name later. After the game (a loss for our team) I went home and wrote up the game. When I called the editor at the paper and read the article to him, he was underwhelmed.

Not surprisingly, he found someone else to cover the next game.

I still don't know much about football.

Now That's Service

I got a call the other day from my car dealer. They were offering assistance to change the clock in my Volkswagen for Daylight Saving Time.

No thanks. I got this one.

My car has two little buttons next to the clock. One says "H" and the other "M". I figured out what they mean a while back.

The Jeep is a different story. It goes something like this:

1. Turn off the radio.
2. Press and hold the "Time" button until the hour starts flashing.
3. Using the tuner dial, select the correct number by turning the dial left or right.
4. Press the "Time" button again. The minutes are still wrong because the clock is slow.
5. Repeat step 2.
6. Push the forward and backward buttons to try to change to the minutes.
7. Fail.
8. Repeat steps 1 and 2.
9. Rotate the volume knob.
10. Fail.
11. Give up. For now. Turn the radio back on.
12. Realize the clock is now 7 minutes slow.
13. Repeat steps 1 and 2.
14. Try to remember how Tabitha did it in October.
15. Remember.
16. Push down on the tuner dial and release to change to the minutes.
17. Once the minutes are flashing select the correct number by turning the dial left or right
18. Press the tuner button again.
19. Turn on the radio.
20. Vow to remember for next time.

Easy right? Maybe the next time I will read the manual.

You've Got Something in Your Eye

As a long time contact lens wearer, I've gotten used to sticking my finger in my eye. I'm wearing extended wear disposable lenses right now. I'm generally very happy with them. They breathe well, are very comfortable, and provide me with crisp, clear vision.

I take them out every night (or day) when I sleep and I replace them after about three weeks. When they get near the 20 day mark, they become uncomfortable.

On Monday morning, I opened two new lenses. When I put the lens in my left eye, it seemed a little strange. My vision was slightly blurred in that eye. I took the lens out, rinsed it off, and stuck it back in. No change.

I thought that something might be wrong with my eye so I put the lens in my right eye this morning. Now I had blurred vision in my right eye. Something was definitely wrong with the lens.

I've replaced that one lens and all is back to normal now.

Sometimes when I'm driving on the freeway, I just want to keep going. I was driving east on the 10 freeway this morning. If I kept going I could eventually get to Florida.

I've never been to Florida.

Not Normal

On Sunday morning after work I was drying off after my shower. I noticed a little soreness. I figured I'd give it a day or two to subside. If it didn't go away, I'd call the doctor.

On Tuesday I called for an appointment.

Instead of giving me an appointment, they connected me with a nurse. She asked me a bunch of questions. I described what was going on.

She recommended I go to the Emergency Room.

Uh oh.

I went to the ER expecting to be there a while. They did an ultrasound. It turns out the soreness is due to inflammation caused by an infection. The doctor prescribed Motrin for the pain and swelling and Cipro for the infection.

Cipro is some strong stuff. It's kicking my butt. I feel like s**t. It's the cost of killing all the bacteria in my body.

Back in My Day...

When I was a little younger, I remember hearing musical groups perform cover versions of old songs. Many times I was unaware of the original so I could only judge the newer version.

I loved The Damned's version of "Alone Again Or" without ever having heard the original. I still haven't heard the original.

I like the Breeders version of "Happiness is a Warm Gun". The original was done by some group from Liverpool.

Now I'm old enough to hear bands performing covers of songs I listened to when I was younger. The group "The Killers" has a version of Joy Division's "Shadowplay" that is getting some rotation on the radio.

I'm distinctly underwhelmed.

The Killers might be pretty-boy post-MTV darlings but their version of one of the great songs of all time sucks.

There's no danger. No drama. No edge.

Okay, maybe sucks is too strong a word.

Here's a version of the original:




Friggin' awesome.

I Don't Feel Any Different

The title kind of gives it away. I've been taking my ADD medication for about a week. Not much change so far.

At least that I can tell.

I did notice last week that I was able to pay attention to a short instruction without fidgeting or drumming my fingers. I absorbed what the instructor said and was able to put it into immediate use.

That has to be good.

On the side-effect side, I took the medication a little late last night and stayed up past midnight. I did catch up on "The Office" though.

Happy Birthday Abigail