Roll

July 29, 2011

File under things that make me say hmmmmm:

We past several 50-wheelers on I10 yesterday.  Seriously.  I counted the tractor trailer wheels and there were, 50 total wheels on the ground, not 18.  I couldn't even find a Google image to illustrate for you.  And they were so long and moving so fast (The speed limit was 80 mph) I didn't get a photo myself.

I drove with both hands on the wheel when passing them, though if the big things they were carrying had decided to roll off in the high cross winds, having both hands on the wheels would not have saved us.  


Today I am looking forward to watching the car's external thermometer start to gradually drop (after we turn left at Roswell and head towards the mountains).

Furinate

September 13, 2010

I never guessed I would spend so much time thinking about dog fur. I grew up in a home with dogs, but back in the old-fashioned days, dogs lived in the backyard. Maybe on the coldest, nastiest days they would get to claim a spot on an old towel in the laundry room.

My life and my dogs' lives are different now. It's not unusual to see Willie curled in a ball on the sofa, hindquarter twitching a bit in rhythm to his bunny dreams. Teddy has thousands of years of breeding built into her system which demands lap time (and a spot on the bed between my right leg and Walter's left leg). Uma feels obligated to pace around the kitchen if anyone else is there, to claim any carelessly dropped morsel of anything (and I do mean anything, including a scrap of celery).

They each have their own grooming problems that require attention for them to live inside. Willie's short, sleek hair isn't as big a problem as his continually muddy feet, but he does shock shed (if he gets scared or if his cervical stenosis flares up, we find his stubby red fur on all the furniture). Teddy doesn't shed, but her tail plume and ears pick up burs and beggar's lice. She requires beauty shop appointments every couple of months to maintain her beauty and keep her coat manageable.

Uma, however, is in a league of her own. She is a fluffy dog who sheds year round. The solution:

This little tool (actually called a FURminator, but I think it sounds oh-so-much-more potent to drop the "m" and call it a furinator in my best Arnold Schwarzenegger accent) can take the fur off! In fact, the neighborhood birds leave bribes on my back porch and window sills, trying to entice me to furinate her so they can collect her fur and add to the loft and plushness of their nests, much like if they feathered their nests with luxurious Hungarian goose down. Here's what a minute and a half of furinating produced:

Now, as John Cleese might say, for something completely different.

This is something that made me say Hmmm last week. I pulled up to a red light (first in line). I checked my rearview mirror hoping not to see some careless student driver about to be ticketed for failure to stop. Instead, I saw a shiny red Prius, just like mine. Then before I looked away, a third shiny red Prius pulled up and joined the line. I felt like I had wandered into the filming of a Toyota commercial and that the three of us were supposed to rev off on some adventure while the loving-eyed camera followed our moves around tight curves with beautiful vistas as the backdrop.

Please consider yourself invited to our Bead-i-licious Beading Workshop on Friday (September 17) at my house, come after you finish school or work. Stay as long as it fits in your schedule.

Say HMMMM

August 17, 2010

I pulled up to a red light on Saturday morning, next to an extended-cab Ford F-150 on my left and a relatively new Toyota Camry on my right. The light lasted a long while, so I entertained myself by looking around. The driver of the truck held something up to his nose, then passed it over to the front-seat passenger who took a deep sniff and handed it to the guys in the back seat who did the same thing. I admit, I stared at them until I figured out what they were doing: taking turns smelling a stick of deodorant. I turned away, trying to process whether they had confused the new drug known as Spice (K2, a blend of herbs, spices and synthetic cannabis) with the product the Old Spice guy has been hawking. When I looked to the right, all five of the people in the Camry, including the driver, had their phones raised in front of their faces, texting as fast as Miss Jane on the Beverly Hillbillies could type.

The light turned green, and all I could do as I drove away was to say Hmmmm.

You may have noticed that I have not contributed to The Davhee Repore that regularly this summer. Now that he is a college graduate and moving 1000 miles away, it borders on weird for me to write a blog about him. I am going to try mothballing his site for a while and if I have something to say, include it here. If I end up having more to say than I think I will, I'll write over there.

Here is a video that we made of his last few minutes at home. Don't expect too much in terms of content or videography.

Out of the Car

June 16, 2008

Today is my Mother's Birthday. Luckily, I live next door to her and don't have to make heroic efforts to see her, spend time with her, or ask favors from her. The favor today? Will you join me for lunch?

Happy Birthday Mom!

I'm positive lunch will go well. . .if I can unfold myself to walk into the restaurant. For all I know, I'm permanently set in the position I have assumed for most of the last week: knees bent at a 110 degree angle, waist bent in the opposite direction at about the same angle, both arms extended in front of me shoulder high. Here's what it looks like (the model below is simulating my posture):

With Erin at Mo Ranch, I definitely have the opportunity to get out of the car. We delivered her yesterday, and how can I say this politely? She nudged us out of the dorm after just one goodbye hug and ran off to make a name necklace with her new best friends. Be gone my worries over whether she is the right age and/or independent enough for overnight camp.

She and I had chatted (a lot) about what camp would be like--the food, the campers, the counselors, the activities. One of the last topics I had visited was her hair. What would she do if the IV Rhino caused more hair loss than the oral version she had last cycle? What would she do if her hair started falling out at camp? She reassured me. If it started thinning, she'd just wear a ponytail and a hat. If it came out in noticeable amounts, she would just invite the other campers outside for a "hair-pulling party," so they wouldn't make a mess in the cabin.

I think there is still time to get a birthday card there by Friday:

Erin Buenger
c/o Mo Ranch Summer Camp
2229 FM 1340
Hunt, TX 78024-3037

But if you are a procrastinator, you can send her an e-mail greeting by addressing it to:

summercamps@moranch.com

With the SUBJECT line: Erin Buenger

In a bow to the modern parent, camps like Mo Ranch have set up the camp equivalent to NannyCam. No we can't watch camp like its a reality show, but the staff does post photos everyday to show that the children are having fun and are not starving. Erin showed up in a few of the first day photos. Here's one where you can actually tell that it is her. The rest showed various children that might be her embedded in a group of fifteen kids wearing white t-shirts, backs to the camera, taking part in some energizer or group game. If you want to play the game "Where's Erin?" you can go to http://www.moranch.com/index.php?c=8, click on Login [username: summer08 & password: session2].

I do have quite a bit of catching up to do after last week, including a set of essays to grade and a boatload of email and phone messages to answer, but I wanted to leave you with something on the drive west that made me say hmmm, twice.

We stopped for gas and a bathroom break in Johnson City (birthplace of President Lyndon Johnson, and named Johnson City for someone or another in his family, long before he ever became famous). Anyway, while I sat baking in the summer sun, waiting for Walter and Erin, a noticed a hitchhiker standing roadside opposite me, wearing a big, white cowboy hat AND holding an even bigger, white cowboy hat. That made me say hmmm to myself and wander a bit to my right to get a better gawk. I still couldn't figure out why a guy would need two cowboy hats. Then, I looked back to my left and said hmmm a second time. A couple of guys on my side of the road had set up a tripod and an official-sized (not tourista-sized) camera and had the two-hat guy in their sight.

Graduation

April 17, 2008

My first thought, when Erin handed me the color brochure explaining how I could have a beautiful photographic record of my graduate (including, at no extra charge: cap, gown, fake diploma roll, and, of course beaming smile) was how to avoid offending Erin as I said "No, I would never pay any amount of money to buy a studio-quality photo set in a memory book of a 5th grade graduation. You don't "graduate" from 5th grade. You get promoted to sixth and get on with your education. This is not an educational triumph. It is not your moment in the sun. We are not heaving a sigh of relief that you made it through elementary school." But now, the brochure is lying on my kitchen counter, not thrown away. Why? Because of the hidden message in the last sentence of my thought.

Erin is an exceptional student. She has always, and I suspect will always, make outstanding grades. Meeting graduation requirements won't ever be in question. Yet with the uncertainty of relapsed neuroblastoma and the accompanying gruesome survival statistics, graduation is never guaranteed. So, now I have to argue with myself. Do I act like a parent who does not want to be ripped off by a marketing program centered squarely on sentimentality and guilt, or do I act like a cancer parent who has no idea if Erin will ever cross another stage? Aaargh. I hate that choice.

P.S. The Conquer Childhood Cancer Act now has 217 (218 needed for a majority vote) co-sponsors in the House and 58 (60 needed to bust cloture) co-sponsors in the Senate.

P.S.S. I talked to Gina Cortez yesterday and if everything goes well, she will open Gina's Mexican Restaurant late next week. Stayed tuned.

P.S.S.S. One more thing that makes you say "hmmm." Seeing a well-dressed man walking down Dodge Street carrying a hula hoop and a bottle of beer.

We're Back, for a Moment

March 9, 2008

The Buenger's quick trip to Corpus Christi created some weather angst. For Erin's part, hitting the south Texas coast meant that we missed the (ever so brief) snow here in the Microplex on Friday morning. It also took us directly into the face of high winds, shivery temperatures, and a nearby tornado. We were unaffected by the Nueces County tornado, but did get a full face of wind, rain, and the shivers. In fact, Davis, Erin, and I were stranded for about an hour in Betty's Cat House on Water Street in Corpus when a heavy downpour interrupted our shopping date (that's right, Betty's is a boutique with cat accoutrement, not a baudy business as you might have suspected). We had made some small purchases and were headed to the door, when I noticed that we would have to cross ankle deep water just to make it to the door. We hied it to the opposite end of the store, and even though the street it faced was not named "Water," it was inconveniently not named "Dry Land" either. With our way blocked on both ends, no car, no umbrellas, and no rain gear, we decided that we hadn't shopped at Betty's long enough. The young proprietress seemed unfazed by either our lingering or by the water rising into her shop from under the front door. She pulled a shop vac from some tucked away storeroom and vacuumed up bucket after bucket of water, until the rain finally stopped and the Buengers took their token purchases and departed.

In addition to some light shopping, we made it to the Texas State Aquarium and to the movies to see the Spiderwick Chronicles (which had opened and closed here in Bryan faster than we could get organized to see it). On the way down to the movie house, Erin and I saw something that made us both say Hmm. We passed a Methodist Church with a fifteen foot tall statue of Jesus (no that wasn't the Hmm part. Such a site is fairly routine in the city called "body of Christ"). No, what made us say Hmm virtually simultaneously was the marquee next to the statue that said, "PET BLESSING AND FREE VET CHECK, TODAY!" and there we were without Willie who needs all the blessings he can garner AND without Luke who has had many, many vet checks before, but they haven't been free or even affordable in a long time. We also made it to the Corpus Christi Museum of History and Science, where Erin not only tried out all the hands on exhibits, but she also conversed freely with clutches of historians gathered there (did I mention the reason we went to CC was to attend Walter's history convention?).

The high point of the convention for Erin, besides swimming every day, was the book exhibit, which she insisted on calling the Book Fair, like at her school. Gayla Christianson, who is the Director of Marketing for the Texas A&M University Press, had the cunning idea to tell Erin that her dad had an open account with the press, so if she saw any books that she wanted, just to tell the person at the register to put it on her dad's tab. Let me just say that Erin couldn't carry all the books she bought "without money." The Press paid Erin back a little for her patronage by sponsoring a lovely dessert reception on Thursday evening. Erin may have erased whatever profit the Press had on her purchases by consuming copious amounts of cheesecake squares and mousse cups. Thanks Mary Lenn!

We got back yesterday, just in time to washed all of Davis's clothes, have a nice family meal together, then head out the door this morning to return him part two of the semester. Tomorrow, Erin and I head out across town to do a three day mini-camp with her soccer team. There will be a little work, and I hope a lot of giggling and bonding, as we work on some team building and tactics for the upcoming Cup season. I promise I will update The Report later in the week when I have time to reflect on my wonderful son and digest the information that he may spend next fall in Budapest, Hungary studying at the Institute of mathematics there.

Her Tongue

February 19, 2008

My mother and I play a game called "Things that make you say hmm." (As a side note, "hmm" is said with a musing note, not with disgust or disapproval, like a harumph. It is usually a very brief exclamation intoned in the back of the throat, accompanied by lifted eyebrows and widening eyes, indicating wonderment, as to suggest, "I didn't expect that.")

Yesterday, as I waited six steps back from the customer in front of me (to ensure privacy, even though I have perfectly good hearing and eyesight, even at six paces) for Erin's new prescription, I heard a distinct clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, with an occasional click thrown in. I had chosen a point somewhere at middle distance to focus my eyes, to avoid looking like I was trying to eavesdrop on the pharmacy customer ahead of me. When I heard the noise, I looked around.

The first thing I spotted was a couple grocery shopping (my pharmacy is inside a grocery store, so this isn't remarkable or worth a "hmm." Although it almost was, because the man was carrying a pair of six month old babies, one on each hip, as he followed the woman pushing the cart through the produce section. I could think of several other, more convenient ways to shop with twins, but their choice wasn't that unique.).

I listened a bit more, and finally spotted a young girl, maybe 10 or 11, marching around the store. This sight made me say "hmm," because of the incongruity of what I spotted. She was wearing a blue, sparkly mini-dress and tap shoes (she seemed on the old side of dress up out in public) and talking loudly on a cell phone (she seemed too young to have a cell phone pressed to her ear while she roamed around the store). The combination (marching, costume, tap shoes, cell phone, too old, too young) created a "hmm" moment.

Here's another one:

Yesterday I corresponded with Erin's pediatrician about how Erin was reacting to the antibiotic she was on. I noted her fatigue, some headache, and unexplained moodiness. I concluded with "yesterday, she began noticing that her tongue 'felt wrong'."

The email program I was using underlined "her tongue" in both red and blue as if I had spelled tongue wrong and also used poor grammar. I checked the spelling, which I seemed to have gotten correct the first time, proofread the the whole message more carefully, and hit "send." Here comes the "hmm" part. The software popped up a warning box with the message that the mail I was trying to send would be offensive to most people. . . APPARENTLY BECAUSE I USED THE TWO-WORD PHRASE "HER TONGUE."

How do tongue doctors or shoe makers send e-mail if "her tongue" is offensive and blocked?

On the health front, Erin seemed less moody this morning though still more tired than usual. I have to pick her up from school in a bit, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a resolution of some of the side effects, including I hope, HER TONGUE. (I guess as long as I am going to be offensive to most people, I should go all the way).