Carole to Spokane
Carole flew up to Spokane this morning to visit our friend Cindy, who needed some surgery last week. Get well soon, Cindy!
Alexis and Jamie
Carole and I drove up the hill with Ann and Yvette for the wedding reception of my niece Alexis and her new husband Jamie.
Gavin goes travelling…
I drove Gavin out to Culver City for his every-4-month eye exam with Dr. Faher. Unbeknownst to me, Jeremy had borrowed the purple cat carrier, and Smidge's old grey carrier had been loaned out long ago, so I had to improvise. I wound up using his blanket box - a cardboard shipping box just his size. Carole had put a folded up blanket in the bottom of the box a few weeks ago, and he's been sleeping inside it off and on ever since. He got in easily enough, but wasn't too happy when he found out what was going on. Justin said he was "rollin' redneck..."
In the car I left one of the long flaps untucked, and on the way to the doctor he kept trying to climb out, but he settled down after a while. He was very comfortable at the doctor's office, and got a clean bill of health after his exam. We're staying with the same eye meds, and he doesn't need to come back for 5- or 6-months unless we spot a problem sooner.
After the exam I chatted with the doctor, mostly about my pneumonia, and Gavin just laid on the towel they use to cover the metal exam table, with his tail wagging. He sat quietly in the redneck box all the way home, and just poked out a little as I was driving up the street to the house.
1988 Solvang Century
Back in the day, I was quite the bicyclist. I used to commute 17 miles round trip to work four or five days a week, for both the health benefits and to take advantage of my company's old AQMD program that paid people to not drive to work. On some weekends, I add on another 20, 30, or 50 mile ride just for fun.
I was reminded of all of this earlier today when I came across my 1988 Solvang Century emergency information card. The Solvang Century was (is?) the premier early-season century in Southern California, run in early March each year. (A century in bicycling is a 100-mile ride.)
I started the full century three times. The first time (which very well might have been 1988), I developed severe knee pain about 70 miles into the ride, and sagged back to the finish. The other two times I finished - and one of the rides was with my brother-in-law Rob, who is still a killer road cyclist. (A week or so after the Tour of California's Mt. Baldy stage, Rob went out and rode it himself!)
One year, Carole and I rode together in the Solvang Prelude, a 25-mile ride that turned out to be a lot hillier than we expected. Carole grinded it out like a trooper - it was really pretty cool.
Doug is at the IBR finish line!
I woke up this morning and checked first thing, and found that my buddy Doug had made it to the finish line of the Iron Butt Rally in Ontario with plenty of time to spare. Some tire problems slowed Doug and his riding partner Chris down back in Arkansas, so they had some heavy lifting to do to make it from Amarillo to Ontario before the time window closed, and all of Doug's supporters were anxiously monitoring his SPOT track. The last day included trips to the Four Corners Monument and to Laughlin, Nevada - both of which required long stretches of riding on non-Interstate highways in the desert heat.
As an aspiring long-distance motorcyclist, I can tell you that this is one hell of an accomplishment. On top of the massive daily mileage for 11 straight days, you have to battle the rain, heat, humidity, east-coast traffic, mechanical issues, fuel stops, rest stops, documenting your visits to each state, deer on the road, fatigue, nutrition, hydration, navigation, and a host of other issues along the way.
I had hoped to be able to meet Doug at the finish line, but he pulled in just before 5:00am this morning, and my sleep schedule is still messed up from flying all day on Wednesday. I'm going out later today to meet up with Doug and Chris and the rest of the gang.
Here's his full route - with a documented visit to all 48 contiguous states in less than 11 days, including the added complications of required stops in Buffalo and Jacksonville on specified days.
Date night
I didn't decide on Ruth's Chris for Valentine's Day until the middle of January, and by then I only had two choices of reservation times: 4:45, and 9:15. We chose 4:45. Our server Thomas was pretty good, but we stumped him when we asked about the large steak fries. He said he'd been with the company for over three years, and in Pasadena for about a year, and had never heard of them; we were certain that we'd had them in Pasadena at our last visit just over a year ago. We were happy to leave it at that, but he did some checking on his own and found out that Pasadena (only) had served steak fries up until a year ago, but they were no longer on the menu by the time he transferred. The meal was good, as always.
Afterward we walked down to the Laemmle to see The King's Speech. About five minutes before the movie started, an older couple came down our row, past four open seats, then past our seats, and sat down right next to Carole. We moved down one seat, but it was still a little weird. Who does that?
The movie was very good. No one does a British movie quite like the British, right? I'd heard the raves for Firth and Rush, but found Helena Bonham Carter was just about perfect.
Gavin
I won't go into all the gory details, but Gavin had to have his left eye surgically removed. Before the surgery, we had some discussions with the vet about his age, and our intense desire that he not be subjected to months of painful treatments and a low quality of life. We absolutely did not want a repeat of Smidge's experience, where months and months of treatment, pain, and discomfort, which ultimately came to nothing. The vet assured us that cats -- even older ones -- tolerate the surgery quite well, and that after ten days or so he should be in good shape, only minus an eye.
Well, that didn't work out. I assumed his regular vet would do the surgery, but after the fact I found out that a younger vet actually did the work. About five days after the surgery, we noticed that Gavin was looking a little swollen, and felt, well, puffy. We took him into the vet, who said he needed some help with some constipation, and that she would look into his swelling.
The report was upsetting. During the surgery, a breathing tube is inserted while the animal is under general anesthesia. The tube has a cuff that is inflated to seal off the trachea, so that he doesn't aspirate anything from his stomach. It seems that they tore a hole in his trachea with the breathing tube. Whenever he breathes, some of the air goes to his lungs, but some of it passes through the hole in his trachea and enters his chest. The vet showed me an x-ray, and the skin on his back was two inches away from his spine -- normally it sits right on top.
The vet said she'd talked to a specialist, and the consensus was that we should take a wait-and-see approach. I brought him home, and he looked like a circus balloon. As the night progressed, it was apparent that he was in a lot of discomfort, and we struggled to decide whether to take him to the emergency clinic or not. In the end, we decided to just monitor him overnight, and take him to his regular vet first thing in the morning.
The poor guy was so bloated, he couldn't really lay down or even sit comfortably. Whenever he sat, the pressure would make it hard for him to breathe, so he wound up standing almost all night. Around 4am, he finally got so tired that he sat down and rested for a little while.
I was at the vet's at 8am sharp - the moment they open their doors. The vet saw him right away, and said he needed to see a specialist right away. I'd taken Smidge to a specialty practice in Culver City and was happy with them, so we made arrangements to take him there right away.
The doctor there looked him over, and said there's two ways to go - make him comfortable but otherwise see if it healed on it's own, or try to fix the problem. Based on the long night we'd just had, I asked him to try to fix the problem. He told me he'd get one of the surgical specialists to use a scope to see what the problem was, and I left Gavin in his care.
Later that afternoon, the surgeon called to say there was a 1.5" tear in his trachea, ending up in his chest. This wasn't caused by over-inflating the cuff -- the surgeon (or worse, a technician) had inserted the breathing tube so poorly that it tore the trachea lengthwise. You can imaging my reaction.
The surgeon told me that surgery was the only reasonable option -- a tear that long would not heal on its own. I gave her the go-ahead, and she did her thing. She called me in the early evening to say everything went pretty well, and that G was resting comfortably.
Carole and I drove out to pick him up a week ago Friday. We've had some drama with his medicine, but have worked out a reasonable compromise, so he's doing okay now.
We're still very upset with the vet, but decided to wait until things cooled down a little to decide how to proceed.
Harvey turns 80
My father-in-law Harvey turned 80 on January 9th, and we all got together this afternoon at his house in Big Bear Lake for a birthday bash. The festivities started with a drop-in cake and punch reception at 2pm, followed by an extended family dinner at 6pm. Afterward Harvey said he had a great time, and he was really happy to see so many people come to wish him well.
Happy Birthday, Harvey!
The Holidays
The holidays were very busy, but also a lot of fun.
Before Christmas, Carole and I worked to finish up some improvement projects around the house. First, we had the kitchen and back bathroom painted by Tony and his crew. Next, we had all new flooring installed throughout the house, starting with vinyl in the kitchen and both bathrooms, then carpeting in the family room, master bedroom, and Justin's room, and ending with newly refinished hardwood floors in the living room, dining room, hallway, and den. Moving everything out of the affected rooms for each of the three types of flooring was a monumental pain, but we survived -- barely.
Jason flew in from Austin on the Thursday before Christmas, and stayed with us until the Sunday after New Year's Day. Christmas Eve with my family was really nice. My dad was in an especially good mood, and seemed to have a lot of fun. Kristie and Katie joined us, along with Carol and Sheehan, for our traditional meat loaf dinner. I'm still getting razzed because I refused to make hash browns for breakfast on Christmas morning.
Moving stuff
One of Carole's brother is moving out of his house of 20 years, on short notice. We both just spent the last four days trying to organize an efficient move, with help from various family members and friends.
Tough work - hard on my back and my bum knee - but I think it will get done before his deadline. There's a little more to be done today, but Carole and I are staying home to work on putting the kitchen back together after the painters finished - and before the vinyl gets installed on Tuesday.
Smidge
We had to say goodbye to Smidge this afternoon. Justin and I stayed with her, and she was very peaceful at the end.
I'll miss her very much, but I'm glad she's no longer in pain.
The Casey’s Hit the Town
Birthday lunch at Claim Jumper with the kids and my sister, followed by bowling, where Sheehan showed us who's boss. I rolled a 154 the first game, but then lost to Carole and Jason in the second game with a 119. Sheehan left the 10 pin on his last ball in the tenth frame to wind up with a 199...
Vegas, baby…
Carole and I went to Las Vegas for our anniversary trip.
I had to scramble to finish up three big projects (two of them assigned very late in the game) at work before I left, but just managed to get them checked in and announced before I left. Saturday was for rest, packing, and getting the rest of life properly arranged.
We left on Sunday, in the Vette, and drove to Apple Valley to meet up with Carole's parents. They're checking out a retirement complex, and it looks promising - if they can cut through the somewhat heavy salesmanship along the way.
There was a big traffic jam starting in Barstow, so we headed to Lucerne Valley then up the 247 to join I-15 in Barstow. Traffic was spotty until Halloran Summit, and the outside temps were hot.
The registration staff at the Paris were more focused on up-selling than on providing customer service, but we made it through with a minimum of fuss. Our non-smoking room, on a non-smoking floor, wasn't bad - although the red decor was a little intense.
Monday we enjoyed the room fully in the morning, then went out shopping in the afternoon's 114° heat. At the nice outlet mall at the top of the strip, we picked up some snacks at Harry and David, and Carole got some shoes at the Clark's. She even found a way to pick up a couple of nice little purses at Dooney & Burke.
Traffic on and around the Strip was as unbearable as the heat. Carole dropped me off at the Mall to pick up a new Tempurpedic pillow at Brookstone, and we fought a balky cooling system and the traffic all the back to the hotel.
After some needed R&R, we cleaned up (again) and headed up to dinner at the Eiffel Tower restaurant, which was as good as advertised. We got a mix of sunset and night-time views, including the fountains at the Bellagio, which were spectacular.
Tuesday we just lolled around mostly. In the early afternoon we headed down to the pool. The water was refreshing, but out of the water it was so hot that we only stayed a little over an hour.
Wednesday we drove down to the Hoover Dam. The new US-93 bridge over the Colorado River is due for completion later this year, so I wanted to hit the dam now when we could still drive over the dam itself. It was still blisteringly hot, but we had a fun walking around.
We checked out on Thursday afternoon, and made good time on the way back home.
We agreed that Vegas is not the ideal destination for our late June anniversary trips.
Siblings
This is from an advice column today, but I think it applies directly to a long-simmering issue between two of my siblings, and I thought it was insightful:
[H]umanity works best if you treat it like a contract: We mutually agree to try our best not to screw up, and to take full responsibility when we inevitably do. In return for those efforts, we aren't automatically banished for the bad things we've done.
The issue doesn't directly affect me, but it really pisses me off to think of what one sibling would do to another, and then to avoid responsibility for it for nearly twenty years.
Pages
Recent Posts
- Naughty in Nice
- Purity of Blood
- Great quote from The Philadelphia Story
- Ride to San Diego
- Carole to Spokane
December 24, 2011
December 19, 2011
December 15, 2011
Categories
- Albums
- Bookshelf
- Doing
- Family & Friends
- FJR1300
- Listening/Watching
- Main
- Pet Peeves
- Politics
- Recipes
- Rides
- Site News
- Sports
- Technology
- Uncategorized