Wednesday, April 30, 2008

When words are not enough

After having given birth, nursing the baby I gave birth to with the worst case of mastitis EVER, having a lidocaine injection in the sole of my foot I thought I had toughened up; my doctor did say I was one tough cookie, after all.

Boy, was I wrong. I have recently experienced a pain that was in a different league of pain than the list I gave above. (Disclaimer: I had an epidural so I didn't get, no, I didn't have to have the complete birth pain experience).

My brain couldn't comprehend the pain it was so intense. It was like a tidal wave of fire washing over my foot. The fiery sensation was only part of the agony; to complete the torture it felt like my foot was being crushed by an anvil.

To make matters worse I blew through my narcotics. Seeing I was getting low I pulled out the drugs I was sent home from the hospital with. I called the podiatrist to get more drugs. Stingy, stingy man. The first time he gave me 60 pills, the second time he gave me 20.

Did he not fully understand how miserable I was sitting on the couch, moaning and rocking? Could I really become an addict if the drugs simply made me less miserable?

With the pain only becoming worse and my drug supply running low I was getting desperate. I figured it was time to call the doctor again since I was contemplating chopping my foot off.

After several phone calls I finally got to speak to the doctor in the afternoon. After he asked me what I felt and I told him, "It feels like I woke up during surgery and I could feel you cutting me," he asked, "Hmm, why do you think you are experiencing this pain?"

My response: "Well, I'm gonna say it's because there was a scalpel in there last week."

He laughed.

No. no. no.

At least he understood he was dealing with a smart ass. But, ask a lame question, expect a lame answer.

He determined the pain was being caused by an irritated nerve. My heart sank. From what I recall, nerve pain is just something you have to deal with. He confirmed my fear. He told me to try loosening my boot and taking ibuprofen four times a day to take care of swelling. If by Friday it didn't get better to call him back and he might try one other pill.

So, if I could endure two more days of complete agony then he would give me a pill.

Grr.

Turns out he was right. I loosened the boot and what do you know? The pain went away! Now I'm left with normal post surgical pain. The post surgical normal stuff is NOTHING compared to the previous hell that was living in my lower limb.

So I'm hanging out at my mother-in-law's house for the next couple of weeks. My mom came up and stayed for 3 days. She made dinners and washed laundry and plain old took care of me, her baby. Ryan welcomed the help. He was working over time taking care of me, Gavin, the animals and the house.

My MIL won't let me lift a finger. It's kind of nice. I've only changed a handful of diapers. My mom tried to keep me planted but it's easier to disobey your own mother than someone else. Sorry, mom. I was a naughty girl when you were in town.

I even made my mom venture out into the city to get a prescription from my doctor and to the pharmacy to get me my fix.

Time to go wash my wounds. Maybe I'll gross my sister-in-law out. Bonus.

Monday, April 28, 2008

Bunion v. Gunshot

The podiatrist took the cast off my foot today! Right after which he put a stretchy 'brace' around the arch of my foot, a splint on my big toe and a connector thing that went on either side of the foot and stretched behind the ankle. Over that went a flimsy sock like thing and over that went a ginormous boot that stops shy of my knee.
Here's the scoop according to the good doc: stitches look great (to me they looked like a dried bloody mess), side of foot from tendon repair is kind of numb (I told him that, he didn't just magically know when he touched it - unless he's the Foot Whisperer) which may or may not be permanent. If it is permanent it's no big deal since I would only realize it's numb I touch it. The reason it is numb is because the tendon repair job was a bigger job than they thought it was going to be. He said it was torn and stenosed. If I remember correctly stenosis is a hardening - you mostly hear it when people talk about aortic stenosis.
I still have to be off my feet for several more weeks. 3 weeks and 1 and a half days to be exact.
After the podiatry appointment I asked my mom to take me to the PCC since we were in West Seattle. There I loaded up on baby food since it is going to be a while since I can go to grocery shopping. Sure, I could have Ryan buy the food but I wanted to make sure it was organic and had a single ingredient only and wanted only vegetables, no fruit.
It was while at the PCC I encountered the first perk of the crutches. Instead of waiting in either of the two longish lines a cashier opened up his register and helped me. He opened up just long enough to help me then closed up again.
Since I wasn't in any big hurry to rush home to continue my confinement I took Mom on a driving tour of my 'new' neighborhood. Mom drove and I narrated what little I knew about the area.
The last stop on the tour O South Seattle was Galaxie Espresso where their coffee is out of this world. Yes, you may gag on my pun as it was fully intentional. Mom really enjoyed her Americano and I enjoyed my orange juice. Don't ask me why I got orange juice when a hand crafted espresso drink is going to be the ultimate treat these next couple of weeks. Lame. So, we drank our respective beverages and each at a very naughty chocolate croissant in just the right amount of time for as soon as we were done Gavin chimed in that he was sorry he refused his morning nap and could he please take the first of his afternoon naps now?
As I stood up my eyes fell on a shiny cane being held by a man at the counter. I followed the cane up and saw it belonged to a young man, and by young I mean in his 30's - funny how the definition of young changes as one ages. The young man saw my crutches and commented on how much more he liked my boot than the one he had. I told him it was brand new and to give it a few days. He asked what happened to my leg so I told him what I had done and "bunions: not just for old ladies, anymore". I asked him what happened to his leg.
He said he was shot. It took a second to register. At first I thought he was joking so I said, "Well, at least that's a cooler story than a bunion." To which he replied, "No, it's not."
I felt like a jerk but he followed it up with, "It would be if it was a gun fight and I had a gun and was shooting back."
We wished each other well and Mom and I left the store. Part of me wanted to know the story of the shooting but I could imagine where that story could go. It had the potential to be so much weirder than the Subway man's story about abandoning his children.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

TMI

I was one of those people who asked a question that maybe I should not have asked and as a result got an earful for a response. Here is how the whole thing went down.

Ryan and I started going to the gym in the evenings after Ryan gets off work. After our respective work outs we pick up Gavin from childcare and head home. Lately we've been stopping at Subway for dinner since they are having a great sale right now and I have not been able to have dinner ready before going to the gym.

Ryan met the new Subway employee a couple of weeks ago and decided he liked him. I met the new guy and sure enough he was really nice. Very warm and personable and easy to talk to.
Last week he was asking questions about Gavin. We were answering questions about Gavin. Since he was so interested in our son I thought I would ask him if he had children so I could give him an opportunity to show me pictures of his kids and to brag about them if he had them.

I am sorry I asked!

Here is how our conversation played out, the only thing I can't properly convey is the AWKWARDNESS of the whole unfortunate situation.

Me, with innocent doe like expression on my face: "So, do you have kids?"

Subway man: "Yes. They are with their mother. We had a problem and she took the kids."

Me, expression on face fading to uh-oh, what have I gotten myself into expression: "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

Subway man: "It's OK. She went to the court and the judge gives her 85% of the time and me 15%. What is that? 15%? That is nothing. I say, 'You take 100%.' and I have not seen them in 3 years."

Me, now trying to not look disgusted and reaching for my debit card so we can get out of there: "Oh."

Subway man: "It's OK. I'm fine. I have a new life, no responsibility. My wife takes the children and pays for them; I have no responsibility. I haven't seen them in three years and that's OK."

Me, "Oh."

Subway man: "Don't feel sorry for me. I'm happy."

What I wanted to say was, "I don't feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for your kids since you abandoned them because you and your ex-wife had a falling out. You may be happy but what is the emotional toll you are inflicting on your kids?"

I left the store with a cold and empty feeling in my stomach. How can someone be so callous about abandoning their children? Does he not view his actions as abandonment? Ryan was pretty upset by the whole situation, too. He doesn't understand how he could not care about his kids.

As I write this I look at the the Wall O' Gavin that Ryan made. There are three 8"x10" black and white pictures that we took at home that he spent hours doctoring on photo shop (to remove baby acne and such) that he put in a frame we bought at Penny's when we were there for our 'formal' photo session for Gavin. Ryan put so much time and effort into lovingly displaying those photos of his son - it is such a contrast to the man at Subway.

Now for a rare moment of mushiness from me: I love my husband. He is a good man who loves his family and would do anything for us. I am very blessed to have Ryan in my life to be my partner and to help me raise Gavin and whatever other children God may give us. I am very content and thankful for all that the Lord has given to us. We are very blessed.

Cabo, not so much Wabo

Before it is completely gone from my immediate memory I should write a bit about our vacation in Cabo San Lucas.
We stayed at the Riu Sante Fe, an all inclusive joint. When we arrived Ryan checked to see if there were any ocean view rooms available for an upgrade. There were not but there was a pool view room on the third floor that we could have for no additional charge.
Sweet!
Or so we thought.
The view was spectacular. We were smack dab in the middle of the courtyard overlooking the main pool and the beautiful grounds and since we spent a lot of time on our balcony we really took advantage of the view.
You know how in some countries the first floor is not counted? First floor is ground zero and the second floor is considered the first floor? Well, that's how it was in Mexico. Our third floor room was actually on the fourth floor. Bid deal you say.
I'll tell you what the big deal is: there were no elevators!
Walking four flights of stairs is normally not a big deal and I would normally enjoy the opportunity get some exercise versus taking the elevator.
Two factors changed my perspective on the absence of an elevator being a negative thing. One: we had head colds. All three of us. Huffing and puffing up and down four flights of stairs in the arid desert air was not exactly what the doctor ordered for swollen and irritated nasal passages. Two: we had Gavin. Gavin is portable in that he goes where we go because we carry him. He doesn't walk. We are at the point where we are glad he doesn't walk yet but oh, man. Carrying an 18 pound baby up and down four flights of stairs in the the dry, dry desert air while you have a cold does not make one feel any better.
The good thing about having a cold on vacation is that it really cuts down on indulgences. Why sample every dessert when you can't taste it? Why eat the bacon wrapped whatever when you could just as well have the slice of ham and side of rice?
There was evening entertainment but we did not partake in those activities because Gavin was in bed by 7:30 at the latest every night. Vacation was a good introduction for us into the world of early bird dinner specials. : )
A little over half way through our vacation the people in the room next to us had a fight. I don't mean a slightly heated argument I mean a knock down, drag out fight. We arrived back at our room after eating an early dinner when we heard people yelling in the room. We rolled our eyes at each other and went into our room. Ryan hopped in the shower. The fighting became louder and louder. Finally I called the front desk and asked for security to come up. At one point the man in the other room screamed so loud that I could feel it reverberate in my chest and in the walls. It almost echoed it was so loud. This time I stepped outside of the room and heard something being thrown around and a woman crying. Then it went silent. Then I heard a man crying. I heard him saying, "Anna? Anna? Anna?"
In my head he just killed her. So I retreat back to my room and call the security again. Anna was however alive because Ryan saw her trying to leave the room and her boyfriend trying to pull her back in. Ryan yelled at the guy and some other dudes from down the hall came out and the boyfriend retreated into his room. The dudes made sure Anna was OK and told us the room they were in should there be more trouble later on. We urged Anna to come into our room to collect herself.
Anna came in our room and sat down on the floor and cried. I gave her a hug and sat there with her. She was in a state of shock. She said she is always the one who gets girlfriends out of these kinds of relationships, she is never the one... She is such a nice, beautiful girl who has such a big heart that I bet she stayed in the relationship even though she said she was going to leave. If she is always trying to fix her girlfriends and to save them then why wouldn't she try to 'fix' her boyfriend? I hope I'm wrong.
She stayed with us for about an hour until she figured her boyfriend had passed out from being drunk. We told her she didn't have to leave and that the hotel would probably help her find another room for the night since she was leaving the next day anyway.
I saw her the next morning walking back to her room; a few paces ahead of her was her boyfriend. We exchanged near silent hellos and she immediately put her eyes to the floor.
That was the real excitement of the trip. Excitement we could have done without but I think we handled ourselves and that situation well.
The rest of the trip we did pretty much what we did the first half of the trip: eat, swim, nap, eat, sleep. I was able to finish my book on vaccinations that my doctor recommended but I didn't get far with any other reading. There was still a lot of work to be done with Gavin.
My plan is to post some pictures of him swimming later in the week when I'm at my mother's-in-law's house. Too bad we don't have many pictures of the poolside bars. Those are so much fun! I enjoyed swimming up to the bar and ordering my virgin daiquiri or virgin pina colada although the bar stools (submerged under water) were so slick that I would often slide right off. People probably thought I was cutting myself off when they heard me order my virgin drinks.
As much fun as a swim up bar is it just seems like a really bad idea. Swimming is dangerous enough when everyone in the water is sober but you throw booze into the picture it takes everything up a notch, or down, depending on how you look at it. I bet one is much more likely to win a Darwin award after drinking than one would if one were sober.

Stairs

There is my foot all bandaged up. My first cast and not one signature. I was fortunate enough as a kid that I was either a) inactive enough that I didn't break a limb or b) graceful enough that I didn't break a limb. Ask me and I'll tell you the reason is b. You ask anyone else and they will tell you the answer is a.
Although I never had a desire for the pain that went along with a broken arm or leg I did want the cast and the attention that goes along with it when I was a kid. Now that I do have a cast I have a lame story to accompany it. No, I didn't lift a car off my baby to save him. No, I didn't fall out of a tree rescuing a kitten. Yes, I did have a bunion and a torn tendon from a couple of years ago when I sprained my ankle taking a light suitcase down some stairs while I was wearing sandals.
Today was a good day. I left the house for the first time since arriving home Wednesday afternoon. Before we left the house I read a comment on-line about the nice weather we had on Friday. I turned to Ryan who was sitting next to me on the couch and asked if it was true that Friday was a nice day. He confirmed it was indeed a sunny day. I think I need to put "open curtains" on the daily to-do list.
It was so nice to get out of the house! Fresh air and sunshine on my face! It was great. Going down the stairs was much easier than going up the stairs. The stairs leading up to our house don't have a hand rail on the right side so I scooted up the stairs on my butt like I did the other day on the basement stairs.
My mom is coming up tomorrow and part of me wants to plan something because I'm getting cabin fever but I know that I should stay put and rest. I don't know who is more excited about my mom coming up, me or Ryan.
I could really get used to this whole have someone take care of you deal. It's the best! (Minus that part about needing help because you are helpless).

Friday, April 25, 2008

Third Boob & Best Back Scratcher

Here is the bra story I promised and so much more...


Using crutches to walk with the added hindrance of not being able to even set my dominant foot (right one) down is kind of tricky especially for someone like me who is not exactly twinkle toes. It was about 5 am when I got out of bed Thursday to take some pain medicine and to eat breakfast. I managed to make it to the kitchen in one piece but now I had to fill my water bottle, take my pills and eat.

My lounging pajama bottoms don't have pockets which I don't completely understand. Some PJ's have pockets, why not lounging pants? It didn't matter since I discovered an old friend worked great as a pocket. Why, I was able to fit a small apple and two bottles of drugs into the middle of my bra. Wow! That freed up my hands to use my crutches while still allowing me to carry a bottle of water and a bag of Sunchips. Can't go wrong with Sunchips and an apple for breakfast.



I even managed to make a pot of coffee, too. It wasn't too difficult to do, either. It was so easy in fact that I think I'll make coffee again today; every other day isn't so bad. I make the pot and have Ryan bring the carafe to the living room with my mug.

The next time I run out of coffee I have to make a special trip to Wallingford (a cutesy neighborhood in Seattle) to buy some Litehouse coffee. Litehouse coffee deserves a whole post devoted solely to its wonderful goodness. My first fateful sip of the oh so smooth coffee was at Trophy Cupcakes which was very fitting to have the best cupcakes in Seattle served with the best coffee in Seattle, too. Unfortunately Litehouse roasters are based in Portland and there is only one place to buy their coffee in Seattle.

Right now I have a can each of whole bean regular and decaf from Trader Joe's. They were sampling their Bolivian blend when I was at the Burien store a few weeks ago with my friend Jenn (it was really good) but I couldn't remember the name of it so I called Jenn on Tuesday afternoon when I was at the uber cramped TJs on Madison because that is the stuff she buys. Fortunately she remembered. I'm going to take the Bolivian blend out to my mother's-in-laws house with me along with my grinder since they are not coffee drinkers themselves.

Wow. It's almost 4 am and Gavin hasn't been up since about 11. Way to go, little G! Let your Daddy sleep. I'm up because I needed to move my leg a bit. I want to take this darn cast off already. My leg itches and I can't do a darn thing about it.

I know I mentioned earlier that the drugs they gave me for the surgery made me itch. Well, that itching is nothing compared to the itching that oxycodone brings on. It is so bad that I am willing to take less effective drugs for pain.

Ryan is way too nice when he scratches my back for me so I had to take matters into my own hands. I got out the big gun: the pasta scoop. Oh, yeah. Now were talkin' 'bout some extreme scratching action going on. It has 12 prongs with a slightly rough surface - perfect for serious scratching.

Save the lectures on scratching for someone who cares because it is not possible for me to care even less than I do now. If the scratching of the itch feels good right now then that is what I'm going to do.

I've been writing on this particular post on and off all day. I am so loopy that I really hope this makes sense. I should have Ryan proof read it first but he might get a kick out of me misspelling a word or something. Wow. It is time to be done with this. I just looked down and there was a sentence that said something like: "fanks for doi tis.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Gimp

I can't say or even write the word 'gimp' without a thinking of Owen Wilson in Meet the Parents. That is such a funny movie and the scene where Owen Wilson talks about the dog with the hurt paw is so funny. After watching it with roommates back when Ryan and I were dating we all would laugh when if someone used the word, bonus points for holding up your hand like a hurt paw. Ah, I miss Amee. If you read this Amee: I miss you!

So, back to my state of gimpiness.

I went under the knife yesterday afternoon. My surgical package included a bunion repair, aka lapidus something or other, and a peroneal tendon repair but it did not include the calf muscle repair they thought might be necessary as it was related to the torn tendon. At least I don't think they did it. I asked twice and they told me twice and I think I've forgotten twice. My calf doesn't hurt so I'm assuming it was left alone.

The anesthesiologist sounded like Hawkeye from M.A.S.H., at least I think his name was Hawkeye - the one who was always dressing up like a woman. So, Dr. Hawkeye sold me on a spinal for anesthesia instead of general (where they completely knock you out) because it would be better for Gavin as I'm breastfeeding.

Side note: I almost wrote, "still breastfeeding" but realized that has a negative connotation as if 'm doing something abnormal for breastfeeding at 6 months. Well, lemme tell ya (although you are probably well aware) breastfeeding is the best for baby and great for moms and the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends breastfeeding for 18 months.

So... I curl up in the fetal position on the tiny operating table and Dr. Hawkeye puts the needle in my back sans lidocaine (numbing medicine) because he said the needle for the lidocaine is much larger than the one for the spinal. It didn't hurt, not even a little. It was an odd sensation, though. It was nothing compared to the epidural when I gave birth to Gavin.

Legs go numb then I was given the sleepy medicine. He only gives me a little and tells me so. I ask if I will be able to feel pressure and stuff being done on my foot. He assures me that I will but it will not be painful. Since that feeling creeps me out like you wouldn't believe I ask him to give me more. He complied and I had a great nap.

Ah, nothing exciting happened. I'm bored just writing about it.

Recovery was a little more exciting since I was lying next to the female version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. There was a concrete like barrier between our gurneys, you know, a curtain. She was crying because she was in pain. Her partner/husband/boyfriend/companion was with her. I don't know why he was with her. She was so abusive towards him. I know being in pain can make someone a little snappy but she was just nasty to her man and sweet as pie to everyone else around her. She heard Gavin cooing and said, "He sounds cute," to which I replied, "He is, wanna see him?" Then I had Ryan take Gavin over so she could gaze on the cuteness that is Gavin.

Man: "What about the kids?" (I have no idea what the guy said since he was so soft spoken).
Grumpy: "They're at my moms; she said it's not safe. Can't you hear? Clean out your f-ing ears! F! What's wrong with you? Are you an idiot?!"

That was pretty much their conversations.

Here is a snippet of mine and Ryan's conversation:

Me: "Hi, honey! Hi, Gavin! Ryan scratch my back please."
Ryan: "How was surgery......."
Me: "Great. Scratch my back, please. How was your day."
Ryan: "Great, I .... blah, blah, blah."
Me. "Great. Scratch my back please."

I forgot how those anesthesia drugs make you itch like crazy. Argh. Just thinking about it makes me itch. Or the oxycodone I took at 5 am are making me itch.

Does it drive anyone else out there nuts when people use itch and scratch interchangeably?

Getting upstairs to the house was fun when we got home. And by fun I really mean no fun at all. We figured the easiest way in would be through the basement. It wasn't that bad but I can't do crutches on stairs so I sat on the steps and scooted my way up. I'm so glad the discharge nurse suggested that.

Except for one excursion to the bathroom I stayed planted on the sofa the rest of the night with my foot propped up. Poor Ryan; he had to do everything. He is going to have to do everything for the next 5 days at least until my mom maybe arrives (if not I will go out to my mother's-in-laws house earlier).

I don't know what I'm going to do about coffee this morning. Ryan doesn't drink coffee. I know I could teach him how to make it but I think that could very well be the one request that would be akin to a straw on the camel's back. He is going to go into the office today as he has some work to finish up so he has to get me all situated, get ready himself and get Gavin ready. The only thing he isn't taking over in the house is breastfeeding.

There is one last story of my bra doing double duty (no pun intended) but the spacey component of the drugs I took a little while ago are kicking in to full gear so I'm going to stop writing because it is requiring more energy with each passing stroke of the keyboard. Just writing that last sentence was a monumental accomplishment. Definitely using spell check today.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Cultural Clash

Our last morning of vacation was pretty relaxing since we did most of our packing the night before. Besides, check out wasn't until 11 and our taxi wouldn't be there until 11:30. That gave us plenty of time to eat breakfast and use up the last few minutes of our Internet time making sure our flight was on-time.

At the airport each bag was opened and checked before you could check in. That line took forever. Or so we thought. The security check fast. Boarding the airplane was fast enough. That was the end of anything fast.

The pilot got on the overhead speaker and told us that there was a small mechanical problem (couldn't get the fuel cap on/off - something minor). It would take a few minutes to repair and then they would have to fill out some paperwork and we would be on our way.

HA!

Mechanics were dispatched and they did their duties and fixed the fuel cap thingy. Paperwork was filled out. The little TV screens came down and the safety video was started. We learned about emergency exits and water "landings" but then the pilot interrupted the riveting safety video.

It turns out that if he flew the plane from Los Cabos, Mexico to San Francisco he would have exceeded the maximum flying time allowed for a pilot in any 24 hour period. Therefore our flight was cancelled.

Cancelled.

Porque?

The Los Cabos airport is tiny. Not just tiny but teeny tiny. There was no way another airline could take us. We were stranded!

OK, we weren't stranded really. Just delayed by a day. United hooked us up with some great accommodations. Accommodations that were just a 15 minute drive from the airport.

Here is where the cultural clash part comes in. I tend to think of myself as more of a type B personality. I found out that in when something goes a little wrong in Mexico I am type A and everyone around me is type B. There should be a rating system for personalities like there is for blood.

A+ An energetic go getter
A- An angry workaholic
B+ A happy go lucky person
B- A lazy sloth of a person
AB+ One who has energy but knows how to chill
AB- eh, I dunno. Can't think of anything for O, either.

So back to my story of frustration.

Unfortunately it would take 3 hours from the time we got off the airplane to get to our nice digs for the evening. Yes, you read that right. It took THREE hours to get our bags and into a taxi and to the hotel 15 minutes away. Time stands still in Mexico. That is a good thing when you are on the beach or swimming in a pool but not when you are waiting for luggage or taxis or flights to leave on time.

At every airport I've ever been to the baggage collection has been the same. Wait at the carousel, look with eager anticipation for each bag birthed through the black rubber flaps to see if it is yours and when, after 20 minutes of let downs, you spy your bag you grab it and figure out the best way to get out of the airport.

That was the procedure the previous Saturday when we arrived in Los Cabos. Our bags were put on the carousel and we took grabbed our respective bags and hopped in waiting taxis to take us to our respective destinations.

On this day however, the fine folks at United wanted to check each of the 153 passengers baggage claim tickets before releasing the luggage to us. While our luggage was being unloaded and lined up against a wall 15 feet away from us they sent out their most soft spoken employee to speak to the masses. The mass of people that was growing grumpier and grumpier with each passing second. They were quick to arrange the accommodations for us, maybe a half hour for that. The soft spoken employee told us, "The first 120 people will stay in hotel X and the rest will stay in hotel Y. The flight tomorrow is at 7 am. We will have buses waiting for you at your hotels at 4:30 am as you will need to be here at 5 am."



She repeated that no less than 50 times and she had the nerve to look annoyed. Could they have not sent out a louder employee? She was not the only one who spoke English. Nerdy.



So... we are standing there waiting for our luggage. The mousy woman is telling everyone to have their baggage claim tickets out. Everyone behind me looks confused because they can't hear her instructions so I hold up my baggage claim tickets and say, "Have these out and ready." Everyone says, "Oh." Then they look confused again because NO ONE EVER USES THEM. So I then hold up the envelope with the tickets where they stapled them. That cleared up confusion about where they were but not about why they wanted us to have them out.



People start getting antsy about an hour into the wait for the luggage that is sitting there, so close yet so far away. People start going to get their bags after 15 minutes of the employees telling us they are going to call names and check tickets without one name being called. United employees balk at the passengers as we storm over to get our bags. We go commando on them and break through the sturdy barrier of red plastic tape and get our bags in a nice and orderly fashion.



With our bags in tow we all go to the front where we are told buses are going to be to take us to our hotels. We go outside and lo and behold there are no buses. We ask, "When will transportation arrive for us?" "Ten to fifteen minutes," we are told.



Ten to fifteen minutes pass, then a few more minutes. We again ask, "Where are the buses?"



Ten to fifteen minutes away.



An hour and a half later we are one of the last of the passengers to get into a taxi van. There are three seats open in front of us. The driver is standing outside the van. Our luggage is loaded in the van. There are other passengers milling about, there are United employees milling about. We are sitting in the taxi waiting to get out of there.



I waive a United employee over. I ask her what our taxi is waiting for. She says, "More passengers." Duh. I say, "Can we just get three more people in here and leave?" She pokes her head in the van and I hear, "uno, dos, tres..." as she takes tally of the people in the van. She turns around and another United employee sticks his head in the van and I hear, "uno, dos, tres..."



(#*%&#@(*&



We only need 3 more people!



It doesn't take 10 minutes to find 3 people to stick in the van. Lame. Finally three more people are loaded up and we are off to the hotel.



The hotel was nice. We check in and try to make a free international call but they were smart enough to not make that a part of our package so Ryan gives the front desk man our credit card information so I can call my friend who is house/dog sitting and let her know what was going on.



By this time it was almost 7 pm. We take advantage of the last bit of warmth and get into our bathing suits and hop in the pool for all of 10 minutes before getting out to eat dinner. Dinner was OK. I had a cold so the food on vacation was at time completely flavorless.



With just a few hours to sleep before our 4 am wake up call we had the lights out at 10 pm. Four am came early especially since Gavin wanted a midnight snack ala Mom at a quarter to 3.



Being the good passengers that we are we were downstairs ready to go by 4:30. We ate a muffin that the hotel provided as our breakfast and I had a cup of coffee.



Other passengers were getting into taxi vans. I was waiting for a big bus to show up. Lots of us were waiting for a big bus to show up. It was nearing 5 am and we realized United lied to us again. There was no bus coming to pick us up. We eventually got into a taxi who told us $25 to go to the airport.



We get to the airport and the taxi driver tries to get $5 a person. There were 9 of us in the van. I don't think so, Mr. Taxi Driver.



We negotiate with him to give him the $25 cab fare between the 9 of us and we see him try to get reimbursed from the airline, too. We let him take it up with the airline but make sure he gets paid. The airline pays him.



At this point we are all really, really grumpy. They stole our day and made us wait at that cursed airport for 3 hours then they don't pick us up like they promised us. To make matters worse for United we had 3 hours to bond with our fellow ticked off passengers the day before, that evening at the hotel, that morning waiting for our transportation, the ride to the airport and finally while waiting in line to have our luggage checked again. We were like a big family all united against United.



At long last we have our bags checked. It was about an hour from the time we arrived at the airport until we had our bags checked. Save our flight the airport was closed. The same crew that helped us the day before was there to help us again. I use the word 'help' very loosely.



Mr. United employee checks us in and gives us our boarding passes. Ryan says, "What about our connecting flight to Seattle?" Mr. United gives us a blank look with a hint of annoyance. "Seattle?"



Ryan, "Yes. Seattle. We were told yesterday that all connecting flights would be taken care of overnight."



Mr. United, "Hmm. No. I don't see anything."



Me: "What?!!! We were told this was going to be taken care of last night. Why wasn't it taken care of? We were promised! Why? Why?" I think I said more but it was incoherent babbling.



Mr. United, "Oh. I see. Seattle. Your connecting flight is at 6:00."



Me and Ryan: "No! 6:00? We have to hang out in the airport all day?!"



Ryan to me: "Don't worry, we'll get an earlier flight when we get in San Francisco."



Mr. United doesn't give us any connecting flight information when Ryan asks for it because he says we will get it in San Francisco.



LIAR.



So we go through security and dump all of our waters even though they allowed us to keep one the day before "for the baby."



7 am comes and goes. All stores are closed. We are growing restless and hungry. The United employees tell us nothing. Our flight was supposed to leave at 7, maybe 7:30. 7:30 comes and goes and still we are waiting in the terminal. We are finally told the pilot is trying to secure food for us on our our less than 3 hour flight.



That nearly brought us to riot stage. Food?! Our flight was delayed another hour for food? It's a nice thought but we just wanted to get out of there.



At 8 am we finally board the plane and the pilot tells us that he thought he had secured food for us the night before by talking to corporate who apparently were less than helpful and really ticked the pilot off. So much so that he has the flight attendants hand out his business card with the CEO's information on it. I think I'm going to send the CEO a link to this post if he wants the full story.



We take off and land in San Francisco. Yipee.



The story is not over yet.



We go to the nearest United counter in hopes of catching an earlier flight. The United employee is very nice but says, "You don't have a connecting flight."



What?



Me to Ryan, "He lied to us! He was just trying to get us out of his hair! Why would he do that? Why? Why?"



Nice United woman looks for another United flight for us. They are all booked so I ask her to check other airlines because Alaska has flights like every hour. They are not only booked the whole rest of the day they are all oversold.



It was at this point I felt tears forming. I tried some self talk, "April, pull it together. Don't cry. Wait, cry! Don't fight it! Cry like there's no tomorrow."



Waterworks ensue with me babbling about my baby (who is crying in my arms), my cats and dog at home with no one to let them out or to feed them. She tells us we can try to fly standby.



If we try standby then our luggage goes to Seattle even if we don't. What do we do then if we don't get on a flight? Besides are we supposed to spend our WHOLE day in the airport in the hopes that we get a flight? I ask for her supervisor. She was very nice but supervisors can do just a little more.



She checked connecting flights and told us there were going to be some close calls and that we had a shot of getting on the 12:41 flight. So we did what any good Christian folk would do and prayed that some people would be a wee bit late for their connecting flight so we could get home since we were already a day late. We were put to the top of the list and we actually made it on that flight!

Now we are trying to go to the website United gave us so we can "select a token of our appreciation for your patience and understanding" (gag) and the site can not be found. Lame.

OK, that's enough for a rant on United. They did get us home safe and with all of our luggage so it could have been worse.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

IN

We are on vacation at an all inclusive resort. It's like a cruise but the alcohol is "free" and they don't try to sell you stuff every time you turn around and you are on land and there is less entertainment BUT the entertainment staff are just as annoying on a ship as on land.

An all inclusive resort is great for us because we don't have to think about anything and if we want a drink of anything other than water we don't have to have a cow over paying $10 for a silly foo-foo drink. However there are some people here who are determined to drink every pennies worth of their time here. Some people just do not appreciate their livers like they should.

The other half who are not liver lovers are skin haters. Why, oh why would you want to subject your skin to so much sun? Really. Do you think you look attractive 4 shades darker than your natural color? Do you not see the other people only 10 years older than you who have wrinkles and sun spots? Are you that dense?

I look around and see the Mexican people. They have lovely brown skin. They were born with it. Don't try to compete, white folk. Your pigment challenged selves are only hastening aging and skin cancer. Collective dumb asses. Dumb assi.

Then there are the people who embrace the drinking the excessive tanning AND the smoking. Well, they are going to have a ball when they have cirrhosis of the liver, skin cancer and lung cancer all while appearing 15 years older than they really are. But let's not forget that they are having fun right now.

Oh, I almost forgot about the food. Sure, it is all you can eat but you don't have to eat all you can. This one is the one that hits the closest to home for me although I have been really good.

I also have a cold and just lost my ability to taste food as of this morning. I've been eating lots of fruit in hopes of kicking this cold a little sooner than I would otherwise. So, having a cold on a vacation where food is every where isn't all bad. It really helps curb the appetite.

Gavin is having a blast. OK, not really. He is having as much fun here as he does at home. Well, he is getting more daddy time where I on the other hand are getting more time to myself. : )

He has been swimming three times now. Each time he seems to enjoy it more and more. We put him in his little swim diaper and green swimsuit that matches his green sunglasses and drop him in the pool. Just kidding. He hasn't cried once in the pool and lemme tell ya, he is oohed and ahhed over like no ones business. We can't go anywhere without drawing scads of attention because of his super duper cuteness. I believe the technical term is hyperacute cute syndrome. I believe the affliction lasts at least through toddler hood. If he is like his dad it will be a lifelong ailment only to be disturbed fashion trends in junior high and high school.

*****

I was going to add this to the bottom of my previous post but I ran out of time getting ready for vacation and laying the groundwork for the cold to take hold by not sleeping well....

So, after I wrote the last post about being a white girl and having maybe just a wee bit of hip hop I realized that while I was driving to a shopping center in West Seattle that, no, I am w-h-i-t-e.

This realization hit me as I was rockin' out to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Gimme Three Steps" in the car. I really like that song. Ryan, not so much. But then he doesn't seem to appreciate CCR, either. Sheesh. He doesn't like the Eagles or the Stones, either. Ugh. Unbelievable, I know!

Well, time to go tell Ryan that of the hour of Internet time I bought (not part of the all inclusive package) and the half hour I was supposed to use I used 57 minutes and counting. I'm thinking he is going to want to buy and hour for himself.

As for pictures of Gavin in the pool in all his cute glory - it will have to wait until we get home.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Grill

After seeing an A-board (sandwich board) that advertised "Grill Special ask for details inside" almost every day as I drove past I thought I would inquire but not within. I'm still not brave enough to go into the store because I have no intention of buying anything. The clothing they sell isn't what I would call 'me' as I'm not so hip hop. Not even a wee little bit. Well, maybe a wee, wee little bit. I do like a song by Obie Trice, OB Trice, Ob Trice - I don't know how to spell his name. It's called "Snitch" and was a free download advertised after an episode of CSI that he appeared on. Not a great song lyrically, he basically says it ain't cool to be a snitch. You see something you pretend you don't or else...

Yo.

So, back to the grill. I saw the owner of the store - I recognized him from a neighborhood event last summer when I was enormously pregnant - in front of his store. The G and I were walking home from the grocery store so I seized my opportunity to talk the shop owner without having to go into his store to ask my silly question.

Me: "Hey. What's the grill special? The only grill I know is the teeth thing." (Me pointing at my teeth).

Shop keep man: "Yeah. We don't do the work but we do the moldings. Laugh, laugh, laugh. You want a grill?"

Me (Laughing hysterically): "No, thanks. (Continue laughing hysterically). Just curious."

Shop keep man to friend: "Wow. She cracked up!" Laugh.

I saw shop keep man yesterday as I was coming home and unloading the G and the car. He called from across the street, "When you coming in for the grill?"

I told him I was saving up for it.

Ha. A grill on a girl. A grill on a white girl. I'm 'bout white as they come. I dance like Elaine from Seinfeld and can't pull off slang. I can try out some slang.

Hmmm, I don't know any.

The most current slang I know is from just after high school. You know, digits and dis and that's about it. Oh, Gavin is going to be sooo embarrassed by me in a few years. And his dad.

We are going to have so much fun!