I Just Don't Know What to Do

Sunday morning, here in Seattle. I have a ticket for Southern California tomorrow afternoon, but I just don't know what to do.

Juli is barely hanging on, coming home from work this morning exhausted and spacey. She is starting to exhibit some symptoms of agoraphobia--not wanting to leave the house for any purpose other than to drag herself through another night of work, spending most of her time either in the bathtub or in bed. My latest "brilliant" idea is to take her with me tomorrow, for a change of scene and a bit of rest and relaxation in the safe environment of Gran's house.

I know I'm needed here, but it is also a strain having mother and mother-in-law here 24/7. I am also out of my own meds, don't have adequate clothing (I packed for a 3-day trip, and I've been here for 10 days), and have things to do with my mom in LA, such as getting her car ready to sell and assorted house projects.

Juli has a phone appointment with her doctor tomorrow morning to discuss her weekend of work on the new meds, and continuing efforts to get her in to see a GI specialist, a neurologist, and get an accounting of what tests have already been done versus the tests that need to be done in the future.

For all of my talk about "living in the now," I'm finding it hard to just go with the flow and take it day-by-day. I am torn between wanting to continue to help here and sensing their need for some privacy, in addition to thinking that a "break" from the scene of her stress might do her some good.

What's the right course of action? I just don't know.

Ah-Choo!

Just as soon as Juli started recovering, I became a Vector of Infection. I am on Day 3 of a stupid common cold. Since Juli is always highly susceptible to colds and flu, my primary concern has been to not infect her while I go through the obligatory dripping, sneezing, coughing routine.

While at the pharmacy to pick up Juli's scripts, I filled a cart with hand sanitizer, disinfectant wipes, Puffs, zinc & echinachae lozenges, and Zicam for the whole household. I don't know if my cold is a result of exposure to Bill's virus in Singapore, being on multiple planes with recirculating air and sick people, my overuse of public land transportation lately, the shock of going from tropical Singapore to cold, rainy Seattle, or a combination of all of it. My only consolation is that it's progressing briskly along--today will probably be the last day I spend on the couch with a tissue clapped over my face.

Juli has decided to try working this weekend, starting tonight. She's mostly recovered, has a fistful of drugs if she needs them, and I'm sending her in with a bag full of little foods she can snack on to keep her energy up, without having to stress her tummy with big meals before and after work.

If she manages to make it through Friday, Saturday and Sunday, my plan is to fly back to Long Beach on Monday afternoon. If not, we'll reassess the situation and I'll see if I can arrange to take more time off from work and stay with her as long as necessary.

Bill reports in nightly from Singapore. He describes the ongoing shipyard experience as "sheer pandemonium," with no end in sight.

Good times, good times...for everyone!

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Good News: The new primary care doc was everything I had hoped. She was curious, caring, knowledgeable, systematic and probing. She spent more than 90 minutes with Juli, questioning and examining. She established that the panic and anxiety occurred only after the physical symptoms kept recurring. She drew parallels between all the different symptoms and believes that they are all connected. She set up a whole list of tests she wants done and the specialists she wants Juli to see, in order of importance: GI, neurologist, cardiologist, etc. And she changed Juli's current meds to address her immediate situation, while we wait to get her the referrals she needs.

Jules was of course exhausted and weak after said grilling, so I called a cab from the doctor's office and got her home quickly. She slept through the night peacefully.

Bad News: Yesterday's GI appointment was a bust. Upon calling in the morning to double-check the location, Kerne was told that she had no appointment that anyone knew about. When she was last admitted to the hospital on February 2nd, her March 25th appointment was rescheduled for February 16--at least that's what her discharge papers said. In reality, someone did cancel the March 25th appointment, and never made the one for yesterday. Swell.

When I heard Juli yelling at the appointment nurse, I knew she was feeling better! Kerne got on the phone to the new GP's office, and they say they are going to get her to a different GI specialist within the next 7 days.

Juli slept and ate yesterday, and didn't need any tub time at all. She ate Cream of Wheat, crackers, mandarin oranges, canned pears, half a chicken breast, broth, juice, milk and cookies. She even had a bite or two of the chicken wraps I made for dinner! And again, slept through the night without incident.

We also wrote down a rough chronology of her hospital visits, possible triggers, trying to organize "the story" for subsequent doctor visits.

Today or tomorrow, she's going to have to make a decision as to whether she can try to work this weekend, or whether she needs to ask for a medical leave of absence while we sort this all out. Hard decisions loom, because she realizes what is important here, yet really wants to keep her job and needs the money.

It is so hard to know the correct balance with adult children in situations like this. My instinct is to take charge and tell her what to do (while wrapping her up in Mother-Love, so nothing bad can happen to her), but my respect for her as an independent person stops me. This is not my call, it's her decision and her life. I can give her options (and have been, ad nauseum), but ultimately, I just have to shut up and support her.

Doctor Day for Juli

Juli is sleeping (at last!) and hasn't vomited in almost 48 hours. This evening, she has an appointment with a new primary care physician, and tomorrow, with a gastroenterologist. Hopefully, we can start on the path to a diagnosis and treatment with these two appointments. If neither of those can help her, then we will press on to the next options.

I've been researching on the internet about a possible auto-immune disorder having to do with her thyroid gland. The symptoms seem to fit her situation, so if the GI doc rules out anything in his specialty, I think an endocrinologist should be the next stop on the medical bus.

Juli and Kerne are understandably frustrated. Juli is just so tired of being sick, and is still not entirely convinced that her body's malfunction is causing the stress and anxiety, rather than her anxiety causing her to be physically ill. Anxiety is easy to diagnose--it's the number one mental disorder in our society right now. Now that her medical chart is full of notations citing her "panic disorders," any new doctor is pre-disposed to confirming that judgment, rather than looking for a physical causation. I'm hoping that this new GP is a curious sort, someone willing to change the paradigm and challenge the previous assumptions.

It's a pleasure to be back in Seattle, even though I'm missing my own mommy something fierce. I had breakfast downtown at Pike Place Market with Friend Christy (who sent me back to Juli's with an armload of cheerful tulips). So even though the situation with Juli is serious, I'm still grabbing opportunities for having fun.

How shallow is that? I rationalize by saying that even the caretakers have to take care of themselves to be effective, right?

Back into the air

I think I've been on more plane rides in the last 3 weeks than I have in the last 30 years. And here I go again.

Bill called last night and said "Go take care of the babies." For a man who hates to spend money, he said he would feel better if I were in Seattle with Juli and Kerne, helping them find out what keeps putting her into medical crisis. So, I go.

It means I will miss my mother's 83rd birthday, which saddens me. I will have to arrange for a festive celebration, post-actual day, just the two of us toasting her milestone.

I can't believe I'm getting on another plane...

Headed back to Seattle...

Juli is getting sick again. I've decided to get on a plane (yes, I'm crazy) and go back up to Seattle tomorrow morning and see if I can help. Maybe just interface with her doctors, if she ends up in the hospital again. My poor baby girl.

Singapore Pix

Night lights on Reed Bridge:

Shopping for pearls in Little India:

Bill's shiny new propeller:

Super Bowl Monday breakfast at the Terror Club:

It's a jungle out there!

Cameras Gone Wild

You're kidding me, right?

Singapore from the WWII artillery emplacements:

Explaining the origins and customs of the Malay ceremonial knife:

Inside the Sultan Mosque:

Sultan Mosque dome--the "jeweled" ring around the base of the dome is actually the bottoms of hundreds of soy sauce bottles, set into the plaster:

More Singapore Photos

Pam on the Singapore Flyer:

MRT at rush hour:

Durians NOT allowed on public transport (Durian is a type of tropical fruit that tastes great and stinks to high heaven):

Big City views from the World's Largest Ferris Wheel:

A few selected trip pix

Chinatown, decorated for Lunar New Year:

Outdoor art, in the form of a pedestrian bridge across the river:

The Buddha's Tooth Temple:

Mr. Cherry Blossom himself:

Breakfast--Dragon Fruit:

You know you've been on a plane for 20+ hours when you start to look like your passport photo.

Yes, the Great Champagne Debacle in the Singapore airport at 3 am resolved itself with a whimper--they did take it away from me, but they only smirked instead of laughing out loud. If I had been thinking clearly at that hour (which I wasn't), I would have just opened the darn thing with a celebratory "pop" and gotten everyone in the waiting area a little tipsy before our flight. But even I can't handle warm champagne at that hour. We all hunkered down to endure the 7-hour flight to Tokyo.

My feet were the size of tennis racquets by the time I got to Narita, and after hobbling through the additional security where our bags were all x-rayed AGAIN, I walked through the terminal for an hour to try to get my circulation going again. I changed my last Singapore dollars into Japanese Yen, found a pharmacy and bought a pair of "flight socks," a pair of heavy-duty elastic compression knee socks to hold my feet together for another 10 hours. I downed a bottle of the Japanese version of Gatorade, extracted from a vending machine with the last of my Yen, and proceded into "The Sardine Zone," wherein 400 cranky people were stuffed elbow-to-elbow into a 747 flying tube, forced to eat plastic-wrapped meals every 2 hours, while watching FOUR movies in a row. It was uncomfortable to the extreme and interminable.

Somehow, I managed to fall asleep for the last 90 minutes of the flight, awaking only when the flight attendant plopped still another meal in front of my face. And then, blessedly, we were on the ground, moving like a sleepy herd of cattle through the various chutes of drug-sniffing beagle, immigration, customs and agriculture inspectors. I got to keep my dried Chinese black mushrooms, pistachio nuts (that were supposed to be an accompaniment to the long-lost champagne) and sunflower seeds.

Richard the Driver found me milling about zombie-like at the exit, and bundled me into the cold, clear Los Angeles sunshine. The next thing I knew, I was peeling off my elastic socks, hugging mom, and eating Mexican food and margaritas al fresco at the harbor!

Was it all a dream? Singapore seems far, far away now, except for the pictures. I will post some later today, just to remind myself that I was actually there.

Stupid Traveler Makes Airport Security Guffaw

It's 3 am and I'm in the Singapore airport, and I'm getting ready to fly to LA. So I go through security (the first part) and the screener says (incredulously) "Do you have a bottle of liquor in your bag?"

"Yes" I say. "I'm allowed to bring back one bottle of wine, right?"

Well, dumb-ass me--I've got my gels and liquids of less than 3 oz in my ziplock bag--did it EVER OCCUR TO ME that a bottle of champagne for my mom just might fall into that "Liquids/Gels" category? NO, IT DID NOT. What an idiot I am.

Now I'm going to go through the next checkpoint, and they are going to take it away from me, and I'm going to be the "Stupid American" who tried to bring a bottle of champagne through security.

I am so embarrassed.

Do you suppose they'll all point at me and just laugh out loud?

To be continued....

S'Pore Factoids & Sneaking in to the Super Bowl Party

On Sunday, Bill and I took a long MRT trip out to the western side of the island. Our goal was the Singapore Army Museum and Discovery Centre. We got lost multiple times, walking in the hot sun, but eventually found our way to the right place.

The museum attempts to chronicle the progress of founding an army from scratch in 1965. Given the island's history of colonization, invasion and occupation, they have done a remarkable job of planning and training the whole population for mobilization if necessary. They decided on universal conscription, and every male at 18 serves at least two years. Women also serve in the military, but it is not required for them.

Along the path to the Discovery Centre were the following interesting facts on signboards:

Singapore is the second most densely populated country in the world (after Monaco). There are more than 6,500 people per square kilometer. Bill remarked that I probably wouldn't have come here if I had known that beforehand!

In the island's small nature preserve, there are more species of trees than in all of North America.

Every day, more than 975,000 taxi rides are hired.

On our way back into the city, we stopped in the suburbs, to see what life was like outside the tourist areas. The shopping mall was jammed (like the MRT) with families--shopping appears to be the preferred recreational activity. I finally got to taste "Hainnese Chicken Rice" (for $1.50!), one of those dishes that is uniquely Singaporean. Bill had another local dish, Kaya Toast with coconut jam. Prices are cheaper out in the sticks.

On Monday, I got up at 4:30 am without a problem. (My sleeping schedule seems to be asserting itself back to U.S. time again). I met the men from Bill's ship for breakfast (Bill was already aboard working since midnight) and got on the hired van with the Captain, the Chief, and various day workers. We embarked on a half-hour ride through the dark to the northern tip of the island, to the Sembawan Naval Shipyard. Before we entered the base, the Chief Engineer handed me an identity card, told me to hold my thumb over the photo, pull my cap down over my face, and pretend to be sleeping.

The next thing I knew, we were getting off the van and walking across the gangplank to the ship, still in the dry dock. Below us was the gigantic propeller, looking all shiny and new--the shipyard workers had just polished it the day before.

Bill met me on the fantail and took me on a short tour of some of the spaces. Everything is torn apart in the engine room, and with so few people aboard, it was kind of eerie and forlorn. While Bill finished up his work, I sat and watched an Indian soap-opera and knitted in his cabin. Then we walked through the base and caught a cab to the "Terror Club."

Named after the H.M.S. Terror, a WWI British dreadnought, the club put on a breakfast buffet and televised the Super Bowl via the Armed Forces Network. The game was exciting (a good thing, since Bill kept nodding off after working all night), but I missed being able to see the commercials--instead we got "atta-boy" messages from the Secretary of Defense and President Obama during the breaks, and previously taped, endlessly repeating thank you messages from various players from both teams.

As soon as Manning blew the 4th down at the end, we packed up and trudged to the bus stop, caught a bus to the MRT station at Yishun, and took the long ride back into town. Bill went back to the hotel, and I continued on, with the idea of going to the Asian Civilizations Museum.

Unfortunately, my map was faulty, so I ended up at the National Museum and the National Art Gallery instead. I had a good afternoon at both, and will try again for the Asian Civilizations Museum today--I hear it's definitely worth the effort.

This morning, I was up at 5, and spent the early morning packing my bags. I fly out at 5:50 am tomorrow. Bill has a sore throat and is getting a cold, so I guess I'm getting out of town just in time!

What Shall I Do Today?

I feel as though I've really accomplished something--I've learned how to ride the buses! When I first arrived here, Bill told me that the MRT subway system was easy, but he found the bus system incomprehensible. Too hard for us mere Occidentals, in other words.

But yesterday, sitting in the hot sun, waiting for the free shuttle bus that never came, I studied the posted schedules and took the plunge when a #51 pulled up. I beeped my EZ Pass, no one yelled at me for doing it wrong, I didn't get lost and I managed to go all the way to where I wanted to go and got off at the right place. Success! At 69 cents per ride, it sure beats a $10 cab fare.

After reading my blog yesterday, my mom was shocked that I paid $185 for the silicone thingy collection. So for those who read it the same way, I meant $18 Singapore Dollars ("S"), not $185!

Bill came home early (9:30 am) yesterday and wasn't sleepy, so we embarked on another adventure--riding the Singapore Flyer, world's largest ferris wheel. It was expensive but very, very fun. We rode in a glassed in "capsule" about 8 x 20 feet in area. An audio guide and map legend explained what we were seeing in the 360 degree view, 165 metres above the ground at its apex. When we alighted, we walked through the mini rain forest exhibit and had a gelato to cool off.

Back at Great World City mall, I dragged Bill into a Japanese restaurant, were we ate multiple plates and bowls of great food and drank Sapporo beer to cool off. I kept ordering this and that (fabulous shrimp tempura!) until Bill protested that he really had to get to sleep. He got a solid 7 hours while I did my bus adventure described above. Then we met some of his co-workers for drinks out on the hotel patio--I got to meet the Chief Engineer, Dusty, and his lovely wife Tamoko, from Japan.

Now it's another day ahead. Tamoko and I have planned to meet up and do something together--maybe shopping, maybe dim sum, maybe showing her some of the places I have found to be interesting. She has not seen much of the city other than Orchard Road, and she is a tentative traveler, a little shy and hesitant to venture out.

By contrast, I have re-discovered my long ago adventurous self here--easy to do when the city is very safe, and the usual city crimes are almost non-existent due to the draconian punishments for such behaviors. Every day, I feel that I am stretching my boundaries and recapturing some of the curiosity I used to have when I traveled in my twenties.

Bill rolls his eyes and says, "I supposed there's no stopping you now..." By insisting that I come here and learn to be an explorer again, he may have created a globe-galavanting monster.

Another 24 Hours of Fun!

I continue to explore and enjoy this remarkable city. Yesterday, we ran out of underwear, so instead of doing the laundromat thing in the hotel ($16), I took the whole pile to the Washy-Washy down the street.

While Bill slept, I took a shuttle to Orchard Road, the fancy shopping/lodging/dining section of town. The sidewalks were teeming with tourists, not my favorite atmosphere, even though I'm a tourist myself. I did some wandering around Lucky Centre, the Filipino nexus. Then I found my way to Tang's department store where the real fun was!

There was one whole floor devoted to handbags. They do love their purses here, and the scene at Tangs was like a parody of sale-day at Macy's. Women playing polite-but-firm Tug O' War with totes, clutches and shoulder bags, everyone racing from table to table, trying to snatch up the "bargains."

Downstairs was kitchenware and appliances, all being demonstrated by enthusiastic Asian versions of "Vince ShamWoW" and Billy Mays on TV at home. I was treated to demos of food dehydrators, vacuums, Bento-Box thermos units, mixers, knives, rice cookers, rotisseries, and food storage covers.

I was completely enthralled with the silicone bowl covers and expressed mild interest. "Wait, don't answer yet!" said the girl (I'm not kidding). "You also get two jumbo size for free, today special only!" She switched effortlessly between Mandarin and English to sell her product simultaneously to me and the Chinese couple standing next to me. I blinked first, and walked away with a set of 5 for just $18S. I felt like I had won a prize drawing!

While looking for my shuttle bus, the sky opened up and the rain poured down. But it was like rain in TN in the summer; it didn't really cool anything off, just added to the humidity. I queued up for a taxi and the driver kindly took me to the Washy-Washy in time to pick up our clean clothes, and I walked back to the hotel in the rain.

When Bill awoke, we went on our nightly hunter-gatherer routine for dinner. Walking up to Great World City, my sneakers took one last sigh and completely fell apart. I had dinner barefoot under the table, then Bill took me to Bata, where I bought a pair of sandals with arch support. I've never had a pair of shoes fail so suddenly and dramatically, except for the time my gym shoes in Junior High had bleach spilled on them, literally flying off my feet when I kicked a ball in gym class. I guess I just wore out those poor sneaks by walking them to death here in Singapore.

We walked along the river coming home, and stopped in for a beer at the Grand Copthorne piano bar. Bill's musician friend Victor wasn't due in until 9:45, so we moved on, Bill hoping to get a nap before catching the bus to work at 11:15.

Good news this morning: Juli is out of the hospital and on the mend. Sometime last night, "another hole" was found on Bill's ship, necessitating another two weeks in dry dock (meaning another two weeks in the hotel), so we don't have to find new lodging or move before I leave next week. Bill swears he was nowhere near that part of the ship at any time...

After a week here...

I have been here for a week, and I feel like I'm starting to get a grip on this place. I can find my way via the MRT underground, I've got a mental map of the city so I am no longer getting lost, and I've even assumed the role of helping other tourists find their way and recommending good things to eat.

Yesterday, I did the walking tour of Kampong Glam, one of the oldest sections of the city and the heart of the Malay and Islamic communities. With our guide we visited a shop (owned and operated by a Hindu gentleman) that specializes in items a devout Muslim would need before embarking on the Haj, the required pilgrimage to Mecca. Here, you can get your prayer rug (with built-in plastic compass to point the way), your robe, your prayer beads (or electronic counter, if you're more modern), and your head covering. You can even book your travel here. Interestingly, each country with a Muslim population is allowed a "quota" of pilgrims to send. Singapore gets about 1,500 annually, Indonesia gets 200,000.

One of our tour asked the question: Would it be sacrilegious for an infidel to purchase a prayer rug and use it for decoration, such as a wall hanging? After some discussion between the owner of the shop and our guide, it was decided that it would be fine to do so, as long as the rug was not walked on or used inappropriately, such as a bathmat. But then, Guide Josephine said, "we say that it would be entirely acceptable, but you must remember, we are Singaporeans--I might not give the same answer in Indonesia or Iran or Saudi Arabia. We are used to being respectful and tolerant to each other, but I wouldn't try this in other countries!"

We also visited a shop where the traditional Malay proposal customs were explained and we learned how to wrap a sarong in the proper way for both men and women, and a perfume shop where you can have any scent you want concocted. We then took off our shoes and were allowed inside the Masjid Sultan Mosque (a first for me!), walked on to the former Malay palace and a very old cemetery, all the while hearing the history of the betrayals, usurpations of the throne, and Dutch and British manipulations of various royal rulers, all vying for control of strategic Singapore.

At the end of the tour, I led Janice from Reno and Paul from Melbourne, Australia to the Zum Zum restaurant, where we feasted on Roti Prata and about 4 litres of water. Janice (who is a quilter) and I spent the afternoon shopping in the textile shops on Arab Street, looking for bargains.

I loved this area of the city the best so far, I think. I find Chinatown (in preparation for Chinese New Year next week), and Little India both to be way too fast-paced and frenetic. Walking (or trying to push and shove through the crowds on the sidewalk) there really sets off my big-city anxiety. By contrast, Kampong Glam was like walking back in time, and once down a side alley, the noise of the traffic on Beach Road disappeared. The shopkeepers were friendly, but not pushy. And there were some real bargains for a change, so even shopping was fun.

I came home exhausted (again!), took a swim in the pool to cool off, then trekked over to the Washy-Washy to pick up Bill's work overalls while he was sleeping. I stopped in at a storefront spa on the way back to the hotel and got a 40-minute foot massage. Ahhhhhh!

When Bill awoke, we took a cab to Suntec City, had a chicken satay pizza and salad for dinner and then wandered down to the Pauliner Brew Pub, where we hoisted one and listened to the Filipino band.

Bill caught the bus to work at 11:15 pm, and I fell into a dreamless sleep.

This morning I called Seattle and talked to both Kerne and Juli--the hospital is going to discharge her in a few hours and they've moved her GI appointment up to next week (instead of late March). I'm hoping they can get her stabilized, diagnosed and fixed!

Worry Time...Again

My daughter Juli is back in the hospital again, just over a month since her last episode Christmas Eve. I'll have to suspend writing on the blog for a bit, while we do the overseas phone call thing instead of spending time on the travelogue.

Mid-Visit Thoughts on Singapore

There are two kinds of weather in Singapore--inside and outside. Inside is were you dart to lower your overheated core temperature in the air conditioning. Outside, it's pretty much always hot and humid. At 1 degree north of the equator, Singapore is tropical. They have the rainy season and the dry season, but the temperature is always in the mid-90s, and the air is always laden with moisture.

I hadn't realized that I was getting so darned dehydrated those first few days. I didn't know how much I was sweating until suddenly my vision would blur, the room would spin and my head felt like it was going to blow the top of my skull skyward. Now, I usually carry 2-3 litres of water with me at all times. I drink and drink and drink some more.

I haven't touched a beer or any alcohol for that matter since I've been here--for one thing, it's very expensive (a beer is 3 times the cost of a meal, a glass of wine in a restaurant will run you $20), and for some reason, it just doesn't appeal to me in this heat--I'm already quite light-headed most of the time. I've also pretty much lost my appetite the last day or two. Maybe because of all the water sloshing around in there, but again, it's hard to be hungry when it's this hot.

So, forget the weather--there's nothing to be done about it. Wear a hat, seek the shade, stop in at every air conditioned mall for a breather and another iced coffee (my new best beverage) or a fruit smoothie.

The energy of this place is tremendous. I took the MRT (underground trains) at morning rush hour to meet up with the Chinatown tour yesterday. The rapid clacking of heels on the tile floors as our huge herd of young people transferred from the north-south line to the east-west line sounded like an army on the march. It is an army of sorts. Everyone has a purpose, and that purpose is Business, Productivity, Capitalism--all with capital letters. The television is always exhorting people to get out there and make money for the greater good--for Singapore and Asia. It's a little creepy in a lock-step mindset kind of way, but I can't help but wonder if it was like this in the U.S. during the Industrial Revolution, or during WWII. Maybe our economy could use some of these exhortations to get out there and be a productive member of society.

The newspapers are all business news, the television is all about growth and progress, and there is a sense everywhere that Asia is ascendant, the West is in decline. While we dither, watch "reality" shows and decry big corporations for being all about making money, people here long ago decided that social order was preferable to individual freedom, and everyone is expected to have a nose to the grindstone for the benefit of the society. Slackers are not tolerated.

That said, it's an incredibly vibrant place, with an uncommon civility between many diverse ethnic races. People are mostly very friendly (especially if you buy something--then you're their new best friend), but they've all got places to go and things to do. No time is wasted. There's an economic world to conquer out there.

So much for societal ruminations. I'm off to go discover more today.

Busy, Busy, Busy

Yesterday, Bill came home from work and we had breakfast together at the hotel buffet. We were going to head over to the World's Largest Ferris Wheel, but ran into two of his shipmates in the elevator, JoJo and Shawn, and decided to share a cab to Little India instead. Bill and I wandered through the streets and shops, making our way to Mustafa's, the Singapore equivalent of Super Wal-mart. Five stories high, 2 city blocks square, you can buy groceries, a car, or anything in between. I got a much-needed wristwatch, and a few surprises for the folks back home.

We then took the MRT to still another shopping centre in Clarke Quay (pronounced "Key"), had lunch and then walked back to the hotel along the river. Bill slept while I threw our laundry into the washers and took a delightful swim in the pool while the clothes did their thing.

I actually managed to sleep until 5 am this morning.

In a few minutes, I will take a cab to City Hall and meet up with my tour group for immersion into the history of the British Colonial period in Singapore. I feel a bit like a pack-mule: Bottles of water, umbrella, insect repellent, hat, etc.

A Strange Day So Far...

I am still all whacked out on sleeping schedules. Last night, after Bill took me to Chinatown and taught me how to navigate the MRT, I fell asleep around 7 pm and could not be roused to go have a beer and listen to music with him at 10. He left for work at 11:15 and I woke up around 2:30 am. I watched a little TV and knitted, then fell asleep again from 4 - 7 am.

I had the whole day planned out while Bill was going to be working. I would walk up to the Great City Mall, catch the free shuttle bus to City Hall, then catch the MRT train to the last stop on the Purple Line and hook up with the Changi War Museum Tour at 10 am.

First, I woke up with majorly swollen knees, making me think that a walking tour might not be the best thing to do today. I hobbled my way up to the Mall at 8 am, hoping the walk would loosen things up a bit, and then when I arrived, was disappointed to find that the shuttles didn't start running until 10:30.

I walked across the street to the Hawker's Centre, figuring I'd have breakfast and a cup of coffee while considering my options. There were about six or seven food stalls open, and there were people eating at the open air tables, but at every stall I approached, I was vigorously waved off and told the foreign language equivalent of "No Soup For You!" It was mystifying. Did I look too Occidental? Too affluent? Do you have to know somebody to get a bowl of noodles or a deep-fried fish? I finally gave up and went back across the street to Great City, found a pastry shop that was happy to serve me, and had a pineapple & almond tartlet and a big iced coffee. That cooled me off long enough to consider what to do next.

Most of the shops in the mall were closed, but as I sipped my beverage and nibbled my tart, some started to open. I leisurely browsed through the Italian gourmet store (fresh pasta and sauces to take home, desserts, Pelligrino, and wine), and bought a couple bottles of wine. I spent about two hours wandering through Cold Storage (a supermarket) in the basement, picking up things like a corkscrew, dried fruit and nuts, beer for Bill, yogurt and bananas and grapes for me, a couple of freshly baked breads (one swirlled with chocolate for Bill, the other studded with California walnuts for me), New Zealand butter, and mango juice. My last stop was the sushi takeout (which finally opened at 11), where the man behind the counter made up some unagi maki and lobster rolls for me.

By this time, my carry bag was bursting, the sun was out in full force, and it was time to trek back to the room and unload. I took the footbridge over to the riverwalk and stopped at every bench that was in the shade to wipe my brow, fan myself with Bill's hat (that I had amazingly remembered to bring) and switch arms on my bulging shopping bag. As I crossed the final boulevard to the hotel, I was literally dripping in flop-sweat, my feet squishing in my soaked-though socks, and the rest of my clothes raining droplets on the sidewalk. I know you think I must be exaggerating, but honestly, it's the truth. I was as wet as if someone had pushed me into the river!

When I got up to the room and looked in the mirror, my face was bright RED, flushed with heat and exertion. I peeled off my soaked clothes, took a cool shower and ate my sushi lunch. Bill came home from work as I was gobbling up seaweed salad and pickled ginger. He took his shower, drank a beer, and went straight to sleep.

So now I'm wondering what to do--go do more tourist stuff on my own, or go to sleep to match Bill's schedule? It seems like nothing starts or opens early around here, so maybe it is best to do things in the cool of the evening and sleep during the heat of the day.

It's 2 pm now, so if I did fall asleep, I could just call it an afternoon nap...

Greetings From the Future

I made it! It was a v-e-r-y long day and night, but I have emerged on the other side of the globe, two days later, happy to be here.

I was pretty groggy from the sleep-deprivation when I arrived, and even managed to get yelled at by the taxi coordinator at the airport. But I did get a cab, found my way to Bill's room, then stumbled around in the dark because I couldn't figure out how to turn the darn light switches on. Thankfully, Mom had given me a flashlight, so I took a shower and collapsed into bed around 3 am.

When I awoke at 7, I discovered that one has to insert one's key card into a slot on the wall to activate the lights. Who knew? I've already stubbed my toes on the bathroom entryway (why would you make the bathroom floor an inch higher than the rest of the room?), found the calamansi juice Bill left for me in the mini-fridge, found the "business center" computers off the lobby, the gym and the pool, and taken a walk around the neighborhood.

It is hot and sticky, like August in Tennessee, and it isn't even 9 o'clock yet. My normally smooth, straight hair has gone into a tropical frizz-fest. I had my morning coffee at a sidewalk table down the street from the hotel, soaking up the sights and sounds of city life, then walked over to a quasi-Indian stand and had a roti prata and mango juice for breakfast. The prata was like a flour tortilla cooked with scrambled egg inside, accompanied by a spicy sauce (masala, maybe?). The mango juice was fantastic. Is it time for a nap yet?

I'm still pretty pooped from the traveling but am conflicted as to what schedule I should get on--should I match Bill's awake hours (midnight to noon), or bat around the city while he sleeps during the day? We always knew there wasn't going to be too much togetherness on this trip, but I'd like to see the guy at least some of the time.

I'm feeling a bit city-intimidated, as I often do in unfamiliar places until I find my way around. My plan for the rest of the morning is to go take a swim, and then maybe go get a massage, to loosen up all those cramped muscles from the plane. Then Bill will be home from work around 12:30 and we'll decide how we're going to work this.

This is going to be a fun adventure!

Next Stop: LA

It's been a great visit with the kidlets and their friends. Today, stuffed baggage on wheels, I will take the bus to the train station, take the train to the airport, and take the plane to Southern California.

I will spend the night with my mom, then take the shuttle to LAX in the morning. Then, after all that running around, I shall plunk my bottom in a seat and hang on for the next 11 hours to Tokyo. I get a 90-minute layover in Narita airport, then another 8 hours to Singapore. I can't even imagine at this point how crazy-tired and disoriented I will be when I land at 1 am on Friday.

But this is what it takes to be an international traveler, I suppose. I've got books, knitting, and a puzzle magazine to keep my mind occupied, and plenty of ibuprofen to keep my body from seizing up.

The next time I write, I will be literally half-way around the globe. Awesome!

More Fab Eats

It seems as though life in Seattle with my children revolves around food. If I lived here, I have no doubt that I'd eventually weigh 300 pounds.

We started off the morning with Brother Jerry and S-I-L Kellie driving up from Olympia. Friend Doug and I picked up Friend Christy and headed into Chinatown to Jade Garden, where we six met up for dim sum (little bites). It was a crowded, noisy, crazy place, where they plunked down a pot of tea, handed out plates and chopsticks, and then wheeled carts of little bamboo steam pots around.

You point, and they plop the dishes onto the lazy-susan in the center of the table. They are trying to sell you everything, you are trying to only get things you like. Christy took charge by standing up and saying "NO!" to most of the waitress' suggestions, and countering with her own "Do you have any....?"

The waitress had giant scissors she used to cut the bites in half, so everyone could get a taste. There were fluffy dumplings stuffed with BBQ Pork, tender rice noodle-burrito things stuffed with shrimp, sesame-encrusted rolls and flaky pastries stuffed with ??? The textures ranged from crispy and crunchy to soft and slippery, the tastes all fabulous and exotic. Christy then started ordering off the menu, sending them back to the kitchen to bring perfectly cooked crisp-tender Chinese broccoli with a spicy brown sauce, and still more interesting nuggets to try. We ate and ate and ate until we could eat no more. The bill worked out to less than $10 per person with the tip.

Jerry and Kellie then took off to go visit their daughter Angela at her college, and drop off some stuff for her, while Doug, Alex, Christy and I drove downtown to the Seattle Art Museum. Christy had free passes for all of us, (Jerry and Kellie met us inside later) and we spent the next four hours immersing ourselves in the eclectic collection. There were special exhibits on Alexander Calder of mobile kinetic sculpture fame, and Michaelangelo, with some breathtaking rooms on the Sistine Chapel ceiling and Last Judgment altar-piece, complete with original study-drawings from the master himself.

We then visited Fran's Chocolate across the street from the museum. This is a chocolatier where the goodies are displayed in glass cases like jewelry. A Tiffany's of chocolate.

We all split up for awhile (I went back to Alex's house for a nap!). When Doug, Christy and Alex came home around 7:30, we then turned our attention to where to go for dinner. We ended up in Alki Beach at Duke's Chowder House, where Doug had stuffed halibut, Christy had fish & chips, Alex had blackened fish tacos and I had crab chowder, lobster chowder, and a prawn & crab salad. Wow. I got my shellfish fix, for sure.

We stayed up until midnight, laughing and talking. These kids are so, so bright, I am in awe of their free-ranging conversation and quick, clever humor.

Off to bed. I am sleeping on an air mattress I purchased last year (for just this purpose--providing me a comfortable place to snooze when visiting), in "the snake room." Alex and Doug have two roommates, Morgan and Nick, and they have 3 boa constrictors. Don't freak out--they are contained in giant, locked aquariums with heat lamps. They are in winter torpor mode; I rarely see them, unless I peer into their fake-log den, where they slumber in hibernation. Sleeping in the room with the heat lamps concerned me at first, but the air mattress is cold, so I sleep at a comfortably cool temp without night sweats. Yea!

Alex's house is cute and comfortable--although much of the conversation revolves around what to do with the rough-stucco walls in the living room, or how to renovate and update the kitchen. They have only been in the house for six months, so they are processing how to increase the value of the house without spending too much money on things that won't translate to a higher price when they sell, hopefully in about 5 years. The house actually reminds me of the house I owned in Costa Mesa when I met Bill, eleventy billion years ago. I am sleeping in what was once a garage, now converted into a game room. Three bedrooms and two baths, and very livable.

Alex is at work today. When Doug wakes up, he will take me to Juli's where I will visit and pick up my dirty laundry, then Alex and I will meet up when he gets off work at 6.

Then, we will go out for...Indian Food!

Further Seattle Adventures

My brother Jerry, who knows of these things, says the name for my space-time dislocation is "Jet Lag." Sheesh. Who knew? And I thought I was unique in my disorientation. Never mind.

Avatar was awesome. The sheer beauty of the film (and in 3-D IMAX, as a bonus) made me overlook the fact that Cameron stole from EVERYONE, including himself! If you've ever seen Dances With Wolves, you've got the basic plot--evil capitalists/military try to destroy a gentle, beautiful race of indigenous peoples, an ordinary soldier becomes assimilated into the tribe, falls in love and goes native, fights his own race to save his new friends, yada, yada. There were Transformer/Terminator weapon machines, fantasy forest creatures a la Star Wars, Phenomenon plant communication, even a little bit of To Hell and Back Audie Murphy battle shenanigans. All surrounded by James Horner's ponderous, derivative musical score, plagiarized from Samuel Barber (Horner is such a musical slut) and overlaid with a lot of chanting tribal drums.

But oh my goodness, the visuals were breathtaking. And it passed the storytelling test, despite the trite plot--I couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

After the movie, Alex, Christy, Juli and I bussed downtown to the edge of Capitol Hill, and embarked on a tapas meal--what Christy called Spanish dim sum. Little plates of goodies to share--dates wrapped in bacon with vinaigrette greens and picked onions; carnitas pork with flour tortillas and tomatillo sauce; tiny baked blue cheese souffles with port wine reduction; fundido cheese fondue with dippers like Granny Smith apples, garlic crostini, and spicy linguisa sausage; Puerco Asado with pico de gallo; clams, prawns and calamari with fideo noodles in a spicy tomato sauce; potato croquettes with tomato jam and sharp Cotija cheese; all topped off with a bottle of Spanish champagne. At the end of the meal, we all shared a Chocolate Diablo, a giant slab of dark chocolate mousse spiked with cayenne, sitting on a bed of burnt meringue, drizzled with caramel sauce and sprinkled with cocoa nibs and bitter almonds. Wow. It was a stunning meal, and we got a 50% discount (even on the liquor), because Christy is the night auditor at the Alexis Hotel and had a coupon.

We then took a hike to the bus stop (a welcome relief--all those little bites add up to a gargantuan meal!) and accompanied Juli to her hotel, The Monaco, so she could begin her work shift at 9. Nice place, very classy.

Then we all walked some more and took our respective buses to West Seattle. Alex got me settled in the back room (what a cute house he has--more on this later), and in the words of Samuel Pepys, "And so, to bed."

The Space-Time Continuum Deposits Me in Seattle

I'm here! My mind is still trying to catch up with my body's location. Since it didn't take 6 days to drive the distance, I am having some dislocation issues. What day is it? I was in Chicago, took a five-hour flight and arrived in Seattle a mere 3 hours from when I began? And when I cross the Pacific, it's only going to get worse, except that the flight will be 19 hours long and I will arrive 2 days later. Obviously, I do not acclimate to time travel very well when it goes faster than driving speed.

But all the planning had its rewards. The travel to Kentucky and the early flight out of Louisville came off flawlessly. No knitting needles were confiscated. Baggage arrived intact in Seattle and signage to find the Light Rail Station was clear and accurate. I was able to buy a ticket to downtown for only $2.50. The electric train was fast and quiet, although I was confused by the attire of my fellow travelers--they were bundled up as if it were 20 degrees outside instead of a balmy 55. I was comfortable in my short sleeves/no jacket, albeit underdressed by local standards.

Juli and Tyra met me at the station terminus and then we hung around on 3rd Avenue at what Juli called "the most disgusting bus stop in Seattle," waiting for a Number 3 bus. Three #7s came by in a row, and many other numbers, while we watched the street people and marveled at the decidedly strange fashion statements getting on and off the buses. At last we made our connection and made it home, and the bus driver even took my rail ticket as a transfer.

I took a short nap, Juli made a delicious pizza for dinner, and we all talked and laughed until bedtime. Today, J and I will shop for ingredients and make Julia Child's Beef Bourguignon, and have a small dinner party with son Alex, niece Angela and friend Sara, Kerne's sibs Tyra & Beorn tonight.

At some point I will switch my digs over to Alex's house, and on Friday, we are all going to see Avatar at the IMAX in 3-D. Wow. I'm hoping to see my brother and his family over the weekend.

It is good to be here.

I think I'm ready (?)

I've been to the dump. I've washed my clothes. I've packed my suitcases, one for cold weather (Seattle), and one for hot weather (Singapore). I have all my paperwork and my passport and ID. I have a book and my knitting. I have all my drugs and vitamins. I've got my camera, batteries, memory sticks, notebook, cell phone and charger. All my fluids and gels are in 3 oz. containers in a quart ziplock bag. Phone list. Money. Toothbrush. Eyeglass Rx. Umbrella. Sunscreen and insect repellent.

I ran out of time and decided to use the extra day I budgeted for this possibility. Tomorrow I will clean house while ruminating on what I possibly have forgotten. I'll drive up to Jeannie's on Monday and we'll have dinner together before sleeping fast and getting up in the dead of night to drive to Louisville for my 7 am flight on Tuesday.

Because I fly so infrequently, this has turned into a major production. I know I am overthinking this. I have been very conservative on the amount of clothes I'm taking. I don't want to be overburdened with luggage. Everything is in red and black so I can mix and match. If I really have forgotten something, I can buy what I need, right? Right.

Chapstick? Nail clippers?

I am making myself crazy. Never again will I berate Bill on his packing procrastination and his before-flight jitters.

Crunch Time

Bill is in high-stress mode. Yesterday, he got an email from a shipmate that sent him into a major tizzy. Seems as though they are going to move the crew from the hotel back to the ship to save money, two weeks into the job. That would put him back on the ship right about the time I would be arriving on the 29th, leaving me with nowhere to stay. I wouldn't even be able to stay with him on the ship, as I have no security clearance.

He raged throughout the day, demanding that I try to get a refund on my ticket (bought on Friday morning), cancel the trip, and expecting me to be as upset as he was. I decided to "just say no."

I said no to cancelling the trip, no to worrying about where I would stay, no to joining in Bill's angst, and no to stressing out.

Where has all this calmness in me come from? I used to be the one who raged, stomped about and tried to wrestle inconvenience and outrage into something I could control and make right. Now, I just float. Is it the anti-depressant? Is it wisdom or faith? The experience with cancer? I'm not sure why I am suddenly a completely different person (Goodbye forever, Type-A personality), but I just can't get upset anymore about things I can't control. My continued health depends on many things, but a positive attitude and a calm, stress-free mental state can't hurt. I just don't worry about any of it anymore.

No luxury hotel? I'll find a cheap one. No per-diem money to play with? I'll use my eBay earnings. My serenity seemed only to fuel Bill's panic, and he kept ramping up the descriptions of all the dire scenarios he anticipated. I finally had to tell him to keep his blankety-blank negativity to himself, as he was making me crazy and super-annoyed. I was sure it would all work out, and by golly, I was going to have my Singapore vacation no matter what.

Sure enough, he received another email late last night, where his shipmate gave more details, and reassured him that it was okay to "bring the wife out," as Bill was scheduled for the night shift, and they wouldn't move the night workers back to the ship because there was no way they could sleep during the day when the ship was being torn apart. Bill finally relented his distress over that and went on to worry about other things he could do nothing about.

So, if Bill is on the midnight to 8am shift, we will be having lunches together instead of dinners, and I will play tourist while he is sleeping, instead of while he's working. This is easy. We'll work it out.

Now the floor is strewn with clothes and toiletries, staging for a final packing of the seabag. I have resisted packing for myself, until Bill is gone and life is a little quieter. I've been making lists and putting things away, cooking up perishables and taking out the trash. I like coming home to a clean house, and there's just no point in trying to do that until he's gone.

If I can just keep him from going ballistic for two more days, we should be fine, and I can get on with my plan of becoming an International Woman of Intrigue.

Now Where Did I Put That To-Do List?

Plans are coming together, and time is speeding up. All of a sudden, it's time for Bill to get into his frantic before-leaving mode.

Over the years, I have learned to expect some grand project, usually beginning in the two or three days before his departure. There was the one year when 48 hours before getting on a plane, he tore out the entire 2nd floor banisters around the stairwell, leaving a gaping hole with a 14 foot drop in the floor, just perfect for killing sleep-walking toddlers. Then there was the 10-week bathroom renovation that was supposed to take 2 weeks. And the rebuilding of the porch steps that were completed in the dark, 6 hours before we had to leave for the airport. Sigh.

He's gotten better. This time, he's been cutting and nailing trim strips on all the joint-gaps of our 30-sided house. He calls it "finishing building our house," because this simple step was never done. It looks great. I just wonder which will take precedence--packing his seabag, or will he still be out in the freezing cold, sawing and nailing lumber right up until the point of his departure?

I counter by fattening him up. I am baking pies, as fast as my sweet-toothed husband can consume them. Two days ago, it was my Killer-Apple. Today, I was going to do cherry, but Elvin and Debbie just sent the long-awaited Lemon Chess Pie recipe we raved about a year ago when we visited them in Oklahoma in January. I think I'll try my hand at that.

I have tickets for myself for all the legs of my trip except the one to Singapore and back to LA. We are still nervous about buying that non-refundable ticket until he actually gets to Singapore and knows for sure that he will be in a hotel or apartment and the ship won't be suddenly sent somewhere else.

And I too have a million things to do before closing up the house and winging away. I just need to remember everything and find that list...

Getting Ready to Go Again

No sooner do we return home with our dirty laundry, it's time to get ready to leave again. Bill is (tentatively--always tentatively) scheduled to fly to Singapore on January 11. We still don't know if the ship is actually going to dry dock, or just rumored to be headed that way.

In the meantime, I have an intense desire to see my children. Juli was in the hospital again, this time for 3 days over Christmas. I haven't heard from Alex, and I'm starting to worry about them both. So my plan is to drive to Lexington, KY to Cousin Jean's and leave my car there for the duration. She will take me to Louisville and I'll fly to Seattle on the 19th. Then to Long Beach, CA on the 26th. If the Singapore thing is a go, I will then fly from LAX to Seoul and Singapore on the 27th, arriving on the 29th.

The return to LA will probably be on Feb 10. I'm still trying to figure out my return to Louisville and then home, probably on March 2nd. That gets me back to work on March 4.

I am looking forward to spending February in the Land of 70 Degrees. There will be friends to see and old stomping grounds to explore. And time, that precious commodity, with Mom.

March will be be my Merry Medical Month. A final CT lung scan. Oncology checkup. GYN annual. Bone density scan. And then there's taxes to be done. It will be a busy homecoming. Busy will have to be my watchword this year. Bill's promotion to First Engineer requires that he "get into the rotation" of four months on and four months off with the other Firsts--which means that he won't be home until the end of July at the earliest. It will be a long 7-8 months for both of us. but then he will be home for at least the next four months.

It's very strange to be planning out most of the coming year, three days into 2010. I've given up on the concept of resolutions, so plotting out the calendar will have to suffice.

Home Again Today

We laid my dear mother-in-law to rest on Sunday, with a celebratory service at her church of 30 years, Grace United Methodist. The pastor told stories of her zest for life, her infinite curiosity and interjected humor into the somber proceeding. He had only known her from his visits to the nursing home, so he seemed genuinely delighted to retell our stories of the Anne we had known.

A wonderful reception followed the service. Almost all of the family was there, in spite of the horrible weather and bad roads. The church ladies put out homemade cookies and cakes, coffee and iced tea. We supplemented with a large tray of fruit and another of meats and cheeses. We told stories, renewed acquaintances, and laughed much.

We then repaired to the Super 8 motel where we were staying, and then on to the Szechuan Palace, where our group of 20 chowed down on mega-dishes of Chinese Food. This family can certainly put away the food!

I spent yesterday with Bill, Bud and Carolyn. We seem to have a peaceful closure. Through the ceremonies we participated in, in the gathering of family and friends, it seems as though the last five years when she was functionally "gone" have now receded, supplanted by all the memories of the Anne we all loved and treasured. It is an unexpected blessing to have those memories back at the end.

Bill and Bud are down at the VA hospital in St. Louis this morning. Carolyn and I are driving down to meet up with them at Aunt Millie's house in Alton. Then cousins will take Carolyn to the airport and Bill and I will get on the road towards home.

Oh, and I got an email this morning that we have been approved as potential Malinois parents, whenever we are ready.

Blue skies and clear highways ahead.

Christmas Eve

I feel a bit bad about letting Christmas take a back seat to the arrangements for Anne's service on Sunday. Our Christmas Day will be spent driving up to Illinois--but maybe we can find some carols on the radio, and give our time over to a little laughter and cheer in spite of it.

This morning Bill has to go back to Johnson City to have his TB skin test looked at and pronounced benign. You'd think in this era we'd be able to take a digital picture and email it to them, but that has apparently not been thought of yet. Or maybe they think we'd photoshop the image? It's an annoyance.

I will do laundry and pack bags, and gather up all the stuff we need to take with us. I am amazed that I got all my errands done yesterday, and even got my tooth patched. The dentist didn't even have to numb me up, and the whole thing took less than 20 minutes.

The car damage is almost $5,600, but the insurance will take care of it on the offending driver's policy. We're slated for January 4 for that project.

Yesterday, the Malinois inspector deemed us worthy pet-parents, so we will be pre-approved for an adoption when I get back from the Orient. If that's what we decide to do. Sometimes, fate intervenes. Maybe the right dog will just appear when we're ready.

This time right now is bittersweet. Mom's passing, while a relief and a blessing, puts a damper on our spirits. It's another reminder that time is fleeting, and seizing joy wherever one can find it is imperative.

Happy Christmas to all.

More Details...

It seems as though all these days now are too busy. We still haven't figured out when we are leaving to go to Illinois, but in the meantime, here are some of the things on my list for today:

Order food trays for post-service reception
Download photos and print them for the picture board
Set up appointment for us with the lawyer
Make motel reservations
Take the Hyundai to the body shop for an estimate
Pay Bill's union dues before the end of the year
Find someone in Jacksonville to buy potted plants
Start packing clothes and stuff to take to Illinois
Go to work

Yesterday, Bill went all the way to Johnson City for his DOT drug test and TB skin test. I went to the Hyundai dealer, Office Max for art supplies for the photo board, Fedex to drop off packages, the hardware store to return a door closer, the pharmacy to pick up scripts, gas station, and Walmart. Then home to bake biscotti, deal with a no-heat problem at one of the rental houses and fix dinner.

My idea yesterday was to use potted plants instead of cut flowers at the memorial service, as the variety of "casual" flowers is limited this time of year. Anne was also not a stuffy person. Having big formal arrangements of cut flowers, cloying sprays of roses, etc., just wouldn't do. I'm not sure if I should do that myself when I get to Jacksonville, or delegate someone there to do that.

Bill's idea was to offer Pease's candy party squares (his mom's Christmas favorite) at the reception for family and friends. She used to send boxes of the precious treat, kind of a creamy bark-type candy with bits of hard crunchy candy imbedded in it, to us. A visit to their website and a call to Springfield led to the disappointing news that they "stopped making those" about a year ago. Rats.

Tomorrow, Bill has to go back to Johnson City to get his TB test read. The Dog Inspector, Dianna, is coming at noon. I have an appointment to get my broken molar fixed at 2:30. I plan on spending the evening making the picture board with photos of my mother-in-law.

I'm feeling a little stressed with all the details -- the ones I know about, and the ones I haven't even thought of yet...

What a Day!

SNOW!

Just when I think things are too incredibly boring here on the rural mountain top, I have a day like the past 36 hours to remind me that excitement isn't all it's cracked up to be.

We started off at Oh-Dark-Thirty yesterday morning, driving off to Knoxville in the pouring rain and heavy traffic before sunrise. We got lost in downtown Knoxville. We turned around and got back on I-40, ignoring Mapquest's directions, and found our way to the gigantic UT Medical Center. We waited. Bill's orders were wrong (they hadn't included the flu shots, the DOT drug-screening or the TB skin test), and so everything was postponed while he contacted the powers that be and got it all straightened out. After a very long time (I knitted almost a full scarf), he came out with 6 holes in his arms.

We got back on the road to go home, still slick and raining hard but at least now it was lighter. Bill wanted to stop at Bass Pro Shop and I was hungry, so I dropped myself at the Cracker Barrel and told Bill to come have breakfast with me when he was done. I finished my breakfast. I read my book. I read some more and drank more coffee.

After two hours, I got up to use the rest room, and found Bill at the front desk, frantically talking to the hostess. He had apparently been looking for me for two hours, walking up and down the table aisles, driving back to Bass Pro Shop to have me paged, walking to McDonalds. They were getting ready to call the police and review the surveillance tapes when I came up behind him.

He kept saying "I thought I had LOST you!" (as he scarfed down my leftover biscuits and jelly). "Where WERE you?" (Right here, reading my book). I refused to take any responsibility for him not being able to recognize his own wife of 27 years. At one point the hostesses and Bill were standing right behind me, wondering where I was.

Now that our day's drama was done, (we thought--go ahead and read on), we finally got to laughing about it as we made our way home to Rogersville. As we came into town, the rain turned to sleet and then snow, and I remembered that I needed to go by the library to turn in my time sheet.

And there on Main Street, minding my own business, stopped and waiting to turn left into the library parking lot, some decrepit yahoo in a beat up pickup truck rear-ended me. I didn't even have time to take my foot off the brake and hit the gas to get out of his way. Boom. The whole tailgate of my new blue car (with only 7,000 miles on it) was smashed in, the bumper broke (but cushioned the crash beautifully, it was amazingly gentle even with him going 30 mph and me at a dead stop).

Bill got all the information from the driver, while I walked through the snow to go turn in my timesheet. Bill called the insurance company, who told him to go make a police report. So off we went to the police station to get that done.

At this point, the snow was really starting to come down hard; big, fat, wet flakes about the size of a silver dollar. By the time the police were done with us, we were wondering if we were going to make it home and up our driveway.

We did get up to the house, and Bill immediately put the red car down by the road. We snuggled in for a snowstorm. I heated up some leftover pasta and we were watching a movie and being thankful that the day from hell was over.

Not yet, however. At 6 pm, the power blurpped off. It went on. It went off. It went back on. At 6:30, it went off for good. We had flashlights and candles, but we finally gave up around 7:30 and went to bed to stay warm.

This morning, the power was still not on and the scene outside was a classic Winter Wonderland. The house was about 60 degrees, and we started working our way through our morning rituals without electricity.

First, there was the problem of water pressure. Without juice, the pressure pump wouldn't fill the toilet tank or keep a shower running long. Bill got a bucket of water from the tanks down in the basement to fill the toilet tank after flushing. I ran a bucket of warm water (the water heater is propane, so it was still hot) for "bathing." I got out the bottles of hand sanitizer for kitchen and bath.

Coffee was our next problem. We use a manual drip coffee pot, so all we had to do was light the propane stove with a match, and we could heat water. But we grind the beans fresh each time, and it's an electric grinder. A combination of a food chopper and then pounding them with a mortar and pestle made an acceptable, if weak, brew. Note to self: grind some beans ahead of time for an emergency stash and put it in the freezer!

Breakfast was accomplished by throwing a pound of frozen bacon on the griddle and peeling the strips off as they defrosted. Toast went on the griddle too. Eggs in the omelet pan.

Bill got the old propane heater in the basement going (once it was the only heat source for the house, before the heat pump was installed), but it was still pretty chilly upstairs. We ran around cleaning house (we had nothing else to do), and when Bill went outside to chainsaw the trees that came down in the driveway, I decided to clean out my pantry, something I've been procrastinating about for months.

The power came back on around 1:30 pm, and glory behold, stayed on! I quickly printed labels for my eBay buyers and used Bill's deer carcass cart to wheel them down the snowy driveway, hoping to beat the mail carrier. When I walked back up to the house, I quickly washed dishes, took a shower and ground some coffee beans, getting ready for a possible round two.

Life is returning to normal. When the furnace kicked back on, it was 50 degrees in the house; Now, it's back up to 64. Thousands of people are still without power, but we're doing fine. A mere 18 hours without electricity reminds me of all the things I need to do to be prepared for "an emergency." This wasn't hard, but it prompts thoughts of what we need to do better next time.

Off to the Big City

Bill made it home safely late last night. Now it's time to get up and do it again. I've decided I need a trip to the traffic and bustle of the big city to let me appreciate my sleepy, small town life. So we're going to Knoxville together--Bill to get his shots, me to knit and enjoy his company. He's done enough driving in the last few days.

I think the rush of eBay buyers has finally subsided to a few auctions per day. Those who have planned ahead have made their purchases. This week, I'll cater to the procrastinators. And the week after Christmas will be the wives who got "get what you want off eBay" from their husbands and the people who received money to spend on themselves. I'll probably shut down the operation when Bill goes to Singapore and take a vacation from auction madness for awhile.

This period of time feels like limbo. Waiting for Christmas, waiting for the trip to Illinois for the service, waiting for Bill to leave, waiting to buy my ticket and go too. There is plenty of planning to be done, but until the waiting time is over, nothing can be done.

Details...

The service for Anne will be held on Sunday, December 27 at 1:30 pm at Grace United Methodist Church in Jacksonville, IL.

Bill has done a super job getting everything organized, and plans on coming home on Friday via Knoxville, where he has to stop at the University of TN to get about 12 innoculations in preparation for his trip overseas in January. Cholera, yellow fever, typhoid, MMR booster, pertussis, tuberculosis skin test, polio booster, hepatitis A & B...the list is awesome. Because he does not have his childhood shot record, he has to get them all again so as to be documented. He'll then hurry home with his sore arms to meet the Malinois rescue inspector Friday afternoon.

I am off to see Mr. Acupuncture today. I have been experiencing a return of pain at my scar sites, and want to nip this inflammation before it has a chance to take hold. I also have to get to the dentist--the one tooth I didn't have crowned this year broke yesterday, so the repair is now critical.

Life is getting complicated.

Elsie Anne Valentine Plemitscher

Bill's mom died quietly at the nursing home yesterday afternoon. It is hard to feel the overwhelming grief that one expects at the death of a parent, mostly because she left us several years ago due to senile dementia.

Anyone who knew Anne in the past five years or so would not know what a vibrant, curious and energetic woman she was before her mind was stolen by disease. One only has to look at my husband to know her strength of character, her humor, and her practical, common-sense outlook on life.

I met Anne for the first time in the summer of 1981, when she was 52. She was a factory worker at Capitol Records' pressing plant, in the days when they still made vinyl LPs. She was also taking classes at community college, active in her church and many community organizations. She knew things--about gardening, raising livestock, how to use a grind-stone, how to compost. She recycled (before recycling was cool)! She knew how to de-tassle corn and how to get to a chicken dinner--starting with a live chicken. She was an enthusiastic Girl Scout leader; at one point her troop consisted of five blind girls, because, she declared, "they deserve the chance to be Scouts too!"

She read constantly, clipping articles of interest and sending them to friends and relatives. She bought a Nordic Track and started exercising everyday. Her drive was to constantly self-improve, and whether it took the form of canoeing in the deep woods in Minnesota, taking a class to learn how to write a story, doing the vocabulary exercises in Reader's Digest, dressing up as a clown for the hometown parades to entertain children, or playing dominoes with her grandchildren, she was always ready for action.

I remember driving with her up from St. Louis one night, in a car whose radiator leak suddenly became worse. I was all for calling Bud and having him come and rescue us, but Anne insisted we were just fine. We stopped every 5 miles and knocked on doors, begging water to refill the radiator. Anne knew how to charm even the most suspicious farmers in the dead of night.

When Juli was 10 weeks old, I flew out to see her. She immediately plopped us in the pickup truck and drove to Chicago to see the Petersons, then on to Wisconsin to see Aunt Carolyn, then back to Illinois to see her mother, Ruth, all in the stifling heat of summer, without the benefit of air conditioning (which she considered a wasteful, unhealthy invention). She and I hit every rest stop and truck stop for breast-feeding breaks, and she fixed everyone who seemed a little too curious with a gimlet eye, daring them to stare. I learned very quickly to follow her attitude, and became comfortable nursing Juli in public places without embarrassment.

After her retirement in the 1990s, she started her own business. She and Bud traveled the Midwest summer fair circuit, selling hot dogs and shave ice out of a trailer named "My Place." I first noticed something was off in April, 1998. The kids and I were on a driving trip to the West Coast, and stopped at Granny Annie's for Easter. We got up in the dark for sunrise services, but after driving around the cornfields for an hour, Anne announced that she was lost, and couldn't find the church. Bud was working in Florida, and I passed it off as isolated distraction because her husband had been gone a long time.

She started slipping away, and she didn't realize what was happening to her. After many tests and several years, no one knew definitively what was wrong. It wasn't Alzheimer's, it wasn't any other diagnosable dementia, but she was having auto accidents, wandering away in the night and losing touch with reality.

In November of 2005, she became a resident at Golden Moments Senior Care. At first, she recognized and conversed with everyone who came to visit. But over the past two years, she became more reticent, and eventually she stopped speaking all together. Where she had initially gained quite a bit of weight when she came to live there, she suddenly lost it all this year and kept losing. In the last few months, her diagnosis was "failure to thrive."

I knew and loved my mother-in-law. And I know positively that she would have hated the life she was held prisoner in. I would not be surprised if somewhere deep in her limbic brain, she decided that enough was enough.

Rest in peace, dear Anne. You had a wonderful life filled with people who loved you. We will remember you as you were before, and will not despair over your passing. In this case, it was truly a blessing, and I know this is what you would have wanted.

Another Rainy Day...

I'm not even sure why I got out of bed this morning. It's so rainy and gloomy again, I just feel like curling up and taking a nap, even though I've been up for less than an hour. Enough already! The pond is full, the basement is damp, the well isn't salty, so we don't need more precipitation right now.

But rainy weather is fine for things like wrapping Christmas presents and baking cookies. Bill misses the "Cookie Exchange." In NY, our group of friends would each bake batches of 3 or 4 different treats and then swap them, so everyone got a plate full of joy with a dozen or more candies and cookies to see Bill through the holidays. I won't get quite that ambitious, but I always enjoy trying a few new recipes each year, and I want to tuck some gingerbread into the packages for the kids, just so they can taste Mom's love from afar.

When I was 10, my great-grandmother "Ma" came to our house and made raviolis, noodles and an Italian cookie called "gesh-pel" (Sorry Mom, I know I'm not spelling it right, so I went for the phonetic representation). The cookies were simple rolled out rectangles, slit in the center and then one end was pulled through the hole. They were fried in Mazola oil until bubbly and crisp and then sprinkled with powdered sugar.

The raviolis took a lot of preparation. Ma brought a traditional filling of brains and spinach (at 10, I thought this was gross) that she had made in her home, and I think we also did one with the usual ricotta cheese too. The stiff dough had to be rolled paper-thin. I remember being amazed at my ancient great-grandmother's arm strength! With her one pass of the wooden rolling pin, you could see your hand through the dough, while I struggled with the springy blog and failed to make any progress. There were special tools--a frame to make the little pillows and a zig-zag cutting wheel to separate them (my default job, after the dough debacle). The dough scraps were made into noodles, which we draped on clean cloth towels to dry over the backs of every chair in the house.

While we were busy with the ravioli/noodle asssembly line, a big pot of my mother's tomato sauce was simmering on the stove, filling the house with the smells of garlic, oregano, fennel and basil. I loved the smell, but I didn't eat the sauce. As a child, I ate my pasta "naked," as my mother's sauce was always too spicy-hot for my young taste buds. And as I recall, my dad didn't eat pasta at all, except for the special occasion of Christmas raviolis. Mom must have despaired over both of us!

I pull these memories out in December, spooling them through my mind, and trying to remember the tiniest details. Replaying the visual pictures of long-gone, much-loved family and happy times of cooking, laughing and of course, eating, makes this time of year very special to me.

Animal Welfare Comes to Call

A few weeks ago, I signed us up to become "pre-approved" for eventually adopting another Malinois. Our initial references checked out, and now we are gearing up for a "home visit" from the ABMC inspector.

This impending visit begs the question, "what would cause someone to fail" a home visit? Twenty emaciated dogs in an unfenced yard right on the highway? Yep.

But it also brings to mind the needs we have in a future dog. We need a dog who does NOT chase cattle. That would be a death sentence, as we are surrounded by people who make a living raising beef, people who would not tolerate someone's pet running weight off their cows. We need a dog who can do stairs. Echo never went up and down stairs when we lived in NY (she would just leap over the porch steps), but when we moved here, she had to learn to negotiate the treehouse nature of our new place. At the end, she could no longer navigate the stairs, and we had to walk her slowly around the back and down the sloped driveway. She also could no longer come up to the loft to be with us while we worked.

I think this is a great process and am looking forward to meeting someone who agrees with us that this is a special breed, deserving of a good environment. I haven't seen "our next dog" yet on the site, but hopefully when we are ready, we will have all our approvals set up in advance.

I think I'm starting to understand...

Living in the land of "all deer, all the time," I've learned to tune out most of what Bill has been talking about for the past month or so. But this morning, I had a REVELATION.

It's all about being male. Deer hunting has all the essential boy elements: Sex, Competition, Toys, and Bragging Rights. The goal--shooting a deer--is secondary to the process. If I had the task of filling the freezer with venison, I would treat it as another chore to tackle and complete. I would choose the most efficient method of completing the task. I'd put a pile of corn in the backyard, a gun by the door, and while I was vacuuming or cooking dinner or folding laundry, I'd check out the window, and blast the darn thing when it showed up to feed.

Bill says this is NOT the way to hunt deer. Yesterday, he explained the foreign concept of "fair chase," meaning, you must figure out where the deer are going to be, track them, look for signs that the males are in the rut and looking for mates (that's the sex part), buy all sorts of stuff (guns, stands, clothing, doe urine, no-scent shampoo and soap, etc.) to stalk stealthily, get up in the dark and sit in the woods for hours on end, come home to the little woman cooking breakfast, spend the rest of the day sleeping, and then go out again before sunset to do it all again. It's a game.

Why this game is interesting is beyond me. Here I thought the object was to bag a deer and move on to the next thing. Apparently, drawing out the process, obsessing about it, worrying about where they are, talking about it (before, during and after), is what it's all about. The journey, not the destination. I would find this highly frustrating.

No wonder we women go to the store and buy meat in packages. The hunt is just too time consuming for goal-oriented multi-taskers.

Winter?

"You have a jacket on!" Caroline sounded shocked, when I came back from dinner break yesterday afternoon. While everyone else wears sweaters, scarves and ear muffs at the library, I am still in short sleeves and light pants or skirts.

But yesterday at 3 pm, it was in the 30s outside and looking like snow--and I broke down and put on the light spring jacket I keep in the car for such emergencies. Yes, even I was a tad chilled on my trip to the post office. It didn't last though.

While we spent the evening at the library doing our normal library things, we also decorated several trees, strung lights and dressed our environment for the holidays. Caroline brought out several hats (she was wearing the Dr. Seuss Cindy Lou-Who number) and asked, "do you want the reindeer horns, or the Santa?" I chose the Santa, and even managed to carry off the festive look for about 15 minutes, when suddenly my ears turned bright red and sweat started pouring off my face. I had to ditch the hat, or risk self-immolation, right then and there.

Snow is indeed predicted for tomorrow. It seems a little early to me, but it is December--in New York, I'd be looking at below-zero weather this month. At least if I start burning up here, I can go outside in my T-shirt and chill out without turning into an ice cube.

Poor Neglected Blog...

Where have I been for a week? Here, just slogging through life.

Thanksgiving was just the two of us, so there was no giant 28 pound turkey, children running through the house, oldsters sleeping in chairs or other holiday traditions. I roasted a chicken for Bill and myself, burnt the stuffing when he came home late from deer hunting, steamed some broccoli, and forgot to put cream in the onions. A total lackadaisical Thanksgiving. We had a nice meal and watched football together.

The rest of the week has been a blur. I'm listing auctions, going to work at the library, doing the first of the month chores like changing furnace filters, checking salt in the water softener, dosing the septic system with bio-spores. I cook, whenever Bill shows up home from the woods, cold and hungry. I knit, I read, I sleep. Just ho-hum life.

I'm gearing up to wrap Christmas presents and send them out to my far-flung family. I expect Christmas will be as quiet as Thanksgiving was.