A Touch of History

For those who know Denver Doug, this note came in this morning from our mutual friend Jeanne:

Our dear Doug has been in the hospice Hospital for the past 3 days and is not doing well at all. Even though Doug is a fighter with a strong will to live, The outlook is bleak. His wife is at his side sending him love. She has asked me to let all his friends know this sad news.Please pass this along to all Doug's friends whose email addresses I do not have.

Love to Doug and his family.

---

When Tom first introduced me to Laurel, by the end of the first day, I could see how much she and I were alike. Shortely before they married, Tom came to me and said "you know how they say you always marry your mother...?"

So it doesn't surprise me (and delights me!) to see that Laurel is keeping a diary of Bri's baby days. I love reading the updates and seeing how things are going. I remember those days when SLEEP became such an overwhelming issue, when a baby was little. I can hardly wait until she gets older.

I was reading back over my old diary and came upon this entry from 1970. We had three kids then. Paul was just slightly over a year and I was pregnant with Tom. We also had two dogs, Mutt and Jeff. This was a typical day:

1. Mutt got out
2. I went out in pajamas with Jeff to chase him (and caught him)
3. I got a hammer, nails and wood to fix the fence
4. I smashed my finger with the hammer
5. We had no bandaids
6. Billy (our friend's son) arrived
7. Paul wouldn't take a nap and cried all morning.
8. Jeri and I spent half an hour arranging all her books in her new bookcase.
9. Ned decided to take the books 'camping' so Jeri threw them all in a big pile in the middle of the floor.
10. I went into a purple rage.
11. Billy started ripping books
12. A new quart of milk was sour.
13. Billy threw his lunch all over the kitchen floor.
14. I spilled a new half gallon of milk all over the floor.
15. Jeff pooped in the kids' room and we all stepped in it.
16. Pat (Billy's mom) came home from nursery school, dropped Steve off and went out again.
17. Ned took a drawer out of Jeri's dresser and broke the bottom of it.
18. Kids went down for naps under pain of death.
19. I folded every piece of laundry in the house and am so sore I can't move.
20. The kitchen is still a disaster area
21. I still have half a day to go

How the Day Ended: Walt came home and smashed his finger with a hammer. Ned had 3 dirty pairs of pants, we ran out of gin, I practically crawled into bed. I was so sore nd in the process smashed my leg against the cedar chest. Two seconds after I lay down, Ned came in to say 'I have poop poop.'

I ended the evening crying hysterically.

Ahh the good old days! Some things still haven't changed. I'm still dealing with dog poop, the laundry still isn't folded, the kitchen is still a disaster most of the time, and Ned is still talking about poop.

I note that I mention that we "ran out of gin." We didn't know that you shouldn't drink if pregnant, and Walt and I used to have a gin and tonic each night when he got home from work.

I look back on the days when the kids were little fondly. But boy, I wouldn't go through it again for anything.

Twooshing the Day

Twitter is getting a lot more buzz as the up and coming social networking site. I feel so "trendy." I've been on Twitter for months. Twitter is a place where you let people know what you are doing throughout the day in 140 characters or less. (A very funny video is "Twitter down for Hitler," which I have posted in "Look at These Videos!" over in the left hand column--it will mean more to anybody who has ever used Twitter and experienced the various site outages.) An entry that is exactly 140 characters is called a 'twoosh' (yeah, it's all kinda silly). The idea, of course (at least for me) is to make it as entertaining as you can in 140 characters. So I thought I would record my entire day in twooshes for an entry. Here we go:

• I am trying to write only "twooshes" today and to collect them into one blog entry at the end of the day. Should make for a good challenge.

• Woke up to shocking headline news: Julia Childs was a spy. Heavens-- that's common news. I heard that years ago. Why such a big deal now?

• Grey haired old man on The Today Show. Shocker--it's Mark Spitz. I remember seeing him in person after he won the 7 gold medals. I'm old.

• Must take the puppy to the vet this morning. It's time for a snip job on those little balls. Maybe he'll finally stop humping everything.

• http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/ has become one of my new favorite blogs. I'm a former cake decorator and some of these look like my cakes

• Puppy was dropped off for trip to the vets. Now I'm going to go to Kaiser for a blood pressure check. Doctor started me on meds a week ago.

• Meds must be working. My BP at the doctor's was 136/90 a week ago; today, after a week on meds it was 129/70. Doctor is going to be happy.

• What's that weird headgear the fencers wear? It looks like dressing up for a walk around the Space Station. Like the flashing lights, tho.

• Is there an Olympic sleeping event? I'm in training. Took a 1-1/2 hr nap this morning, after taking pup to Vet. I missed the real Olympics

• If you're a fan of song parodies (I am--I write them) you'll love this web site: http://www.amiright.com/parody/misc/. Some funny stuff there.

• Walt is buying smoke alarms. We can't get approval for new a/c system til we have smoke alarms in every bedroom. 1 on each floor isn't enuf.

• Michele's ques of the day: "Have you ever been invited backstage?" Seemed a silly question to me. I sometimes feel like we LIVE backstage!

• MSNBC reporter, who claims never to have tasted Peking Duck, says you can get a whole duck in Beijing for $2. Guess they have two buck duck!

• My advice: If you're going to walk on a treadmill, don't put on sweatpants when it's 100 degrees outside and walk at 3 p.m. I'm just saying.

• @OzaMeilleur -- I am going through a blueberry phase too. A great way to fill your body with antioxidants! Too bad I don't have a balcony.
  (this is in response to this tweet from someone else: "Going out on the balcony, with a pint of blueberries, to thumb through books I borrowed from the library. Must take in more sun. Loving it!")

• My kids used to talk about "facial discracial" all the time. Never knew til today that it came from vollyball terminology. Live and learn.

• The Democratic convention takes place the week before my daughter's wedding. I've asked her nicely to reschedule. She says no. Selfish kid!

• John McCain: "In the 21st Century nations don't invade other nations." Uh..? Remember that little business in Iraq? Was in all the papers

• My afternoon of peace is over. Time to pick up the neutered puppy and bring him back home again. Then off to a meeting with @kariapeterson
  (when you use the @ sign in front of someone's name, then they can find out that you've written something about them)

• Good meeting. I actually learned a lot about things I've been using and doing for many years. Too bad I didn't have this meeting 5 yrs ago.

• Finished leftovers for dinner--"something with rice in it" for him, leftover chili for me. That means I'll have to cook something tomorrow.

• I'm seeing more and more of the manga avitars. Pretty soon we won't have anybody using his/her own face any more. I do like the one I made
  

• OK-- I'm calling it a night; going to watch Olympics. I've done my entire day in twooshes, 140 characters exactly. Pressure's off tomorrow

Olympic Star

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You're Not Listening, World

Look. I'm getting tired of stomping my foot and repeating myself. Let me try it one more time: nobody else gets to die until I do. OK? I'm tired of funerals and grief and pain.

There have been two deaths that touched our extended world in the last two days. While neither was a personal loss for us (one guy we didn't even know of, much less know), they were both too tragic and people who were too young.

Jeri's soon-to-be-husband Phil sent a text message yesterday asking for details about Paul Narr. I turns out Paul Narr was a good friend of Phil's, who committed suicide this week. He was 42 and a Davis police officer who leaves behind a wife, two kids age 5 and 2, a twin brother, a sister, and his parents.

A senseless tragedy. I'm sure it makes sense only to Paul Narr himself. The pain he must have been suffering to take his own life when he seemed to have everything going for him (at least on paper) must have been overwhelming. I wonder if he thought about the pain he was leaving behind for all those who loved him. Or was the pain so all-encompassing it blotted all of that out?

Then last night we went off to Sacramento to see Evita. When we got home there were two messages, letting us know of the death of Ken MacKenzie.

Ken was the son of Natalie and Malcolm, whom we have known for nearly 40 years. We met through the Davis Comic Opera company. Their kids were in school with our kids. Ken was in school (and the jazz choir) with Tom and Dave.

I've never known parents who were more proud of their kids and their accomplishments. Natalie practically glows whenever you ask about any of her three kids. I know the anguish they are feeling right now.

Ken was 38 years old and was married two years ago. He died of an apparent heart attack. My god, who has a heart attack at 38?

It's one of those "did God really get mixed up?" sorts of things. When Michele died, she was 65 years old and in apparent good health, and her husband is pushing 80. Whoever thought it would be Michele who would go first?

Ken's father has suffered a stroke and has been fighting back from that for several years. Who would think that it would be the son who would die from a heart attack?

Sometimes I just don't understand why things happen. All I know is that I'm tired of going to funerals and memorials services for people who died too young. Doesn't God have enough new young people with all the deaths from the war in Iraq? Or maybe this reinforces the old addage that "only the good die young."

I'll be around for a long, long time.

---

I've been watching a lot of Olympics this week, seeing oddball sports like archery and handball (which I did not realize could be a team sport). I do have a few comments and questions. Feel free to weigh in if you have the answers.

In the opening ceremony it seems they played "Scotland the Brave" on the bagpipes a lot. What is it with China, bagpipes and Scotland?

How would you like to grow up known as the Milli Vanilli of the Olympics?

Why do male volleyball players wear shorts and t-shirts, while female players wear bikinis?

Is "Misty Hymen" the best name for a swimmer ever?

Greco Roman wrestling makes me feel like I'm watching the puppies play.

Does every team sport insist on double high-fiving everybody on your team, your coaches, and other support personnel, or is it only gymnastics?

Is it just me or is MSNBC afternoon coverage of the games really Entertainment Tonight with parallel bars?

Bouncing Bodies

I've probably spent more time sitting and watching Olympic events in the past two days than I would have normally, if I hadn't been feeling out of sorts. Just blown away by the incredible strength and agility of the human body and the enormity of the human spirit. I loved it this morning when Matt Lauer was talking with Michael Phelps mother and asked her about this "8 gold medal" thing and she said that Michael has never once mentioned wanting to win 8 golds and Matt admitted that it was a media driven goal.

Last night I watched the men's synchronized diving, as I had the women's earlier in the week. What a gorgeous sport. As I watched the Chinese team's first dive, a forward in the pike position, it just took my breath away. I don't know that I'd ever seen a tighter pike, and to watch them do it as mirror images with each other, entering the water with hardly a splash. Well, it just doesn't get better than that!

I couldn't help but think of the years that we spent poolside watching bouncing bodies.

It all started when Ned was about 8, I think. His friend, Matt, was on the Davis Diving Team (coached by Brett Evans who was, it was rumored, on an Olympic diving team in his youth). Ned would watch Matt on the diving board and then try to imitate him. Matt's father thought Ned was pretty good and suggested he join the diving team.

And the path of our lives was changed for the next 4-5 years.

Originally it was just Ned and Paul who signed up for diving lessons, but soon all five kids were going to Manor Pool every day and spending hours learning how to leap up, out, and off of high platforms. And of course there were the swim meets, the "rec meets," where they dove in competition with other amateurs, and the meets where they dove in competition with other Olympic hopefuls. Not, of course, that most of the kids on the Davis Diving Team were actually Olympic hopefuls (though I think one did, eventually, get onto an Olympic team). But they were, like today's athletes, all after that elusive prize.

Dave, age 5, with his first place ribbon

Paul, age 8

The difference between having kids on the swim team or on the diving team is that when you go to a meet, the swim folks are there all day. All you have to do is look at the Olympic swimming events to see that there are relays and individual competitions in various swim strokes. With diving, there are age divisions. When your age group finishes its competition, you're free to go home. We really liked that!

But nevertheless we spent a lot of time poolside, whether at practice sessions or driving all over No. California to meets. I was in charge of publicity for the group (of course--that seems to have been my role in most organizations I was involved with!) and even got the team some TV time at least once.

We had our share of difficulties. Swimmers' ear was always something we had to be aware of, and once, when Ned was practicing on a 5 meter platform, he hit the water so hard he broke his ear drum and was out of the pool for several weeks. But I was always so proud of him that no matter what the adversity, he always seemed to get up and continue on.

The kids learned a lot about diving, about self-confidence, about being part of a team. But Walt and I learned a lot too. I often worked the scoring table at meets and we both learned how to judge dives.

Oh we didn't judge dives well. I still can't look at a turning, twisting dive and figure it all out without a slow motion replay. I listen to the instant commentary by former divers during the Olympics and wonder how they can see those small imperfections when I'm not sure if it's 2 twists or 2-1/2 twists. Walt remembers the time he sat by another father, judging dives. They decided that one would count the sommersaults and the other would count the twists and between them they might come up with a proper score for the dive.

(I don't think they do that in Olympic scoring!)

We met a lot of interesting people during those years. I still remember the mother of twins who drove about 30 miles to bring her kids to Davis to practice. She was a large woman and drove a Volkswagon bug with a Great Dane in her lap. Quite a sight, lemme tell you! I was glad I was never on the freeway with her.

Ned even got to dive against Greg Louganis once. It was at a fun meet in So. California and at the end, the winners in each age group dove against each other. Greg (then 16) had just come from winning the silver medal in the 1976 games in Montreal. Ned had won the 10-and-under competition, so at the end of the event, he got to compete with Greg (and the winners of all the other age divisions). (Uh...Ned didn't win that competition!) I still remember watching Greg do a back dive in the pike position. He seemed to go up in the air forever before he finally headed toward the water, straight as an arrow, entering with barely a splash. Amazing.

Those were good years, or at least I remember them as good years (I never know if the kids share my memories). But it all ended rather abruptly when the coach decided go to pro and we couldn't afford his fees any more. Ned continued for awhile after that with the rec department coach, but his heart wasn't in it any more and I don't think he finished out the season. I've always felt a bit angry about how it all ended, but that was a long time ago. I haven't seen Ned dive in...probably decades.

Believe it or Not

I'm not writing a journal entry tonight. I just feel too rotten and I'm going to sleep instead. I'll leave you with some photos of Scrappy's (Max/Winston) last morning here. His new Mom picked him up this morning...and if you want to know how the morning went, check the video of the day--it's quite a story!

Freddie learned how to chase his tail

I put Scrappy/Max/Winston's leash on him early, so
I wouldn't have to deal with catch him when his "mom" came.

"Mouth wrestling" always looks so fierce!

Petri Dish

I feel like I'm a time-lapse film of a petri dish trying go grow some sort of bacteria today.

It started with "the tickle." You know--that little rough patch waaaay back in the back of your throat that's hardly noticeable except every now and then.

Then while you're sitting there thinking "gee--I think there's a little rough patch waaay back in the back of my throat," you become aware that waaaay down in a far corner of a lobe of your lung there is this hint of a burning. Not so much a burn so much as perhaps a warming.

You give a cough and it relieves the tickle. And then it comes back.

Then your nose starts itching. By then the tickle is more pronounced and the warming is more definite.

Gradually you realize that your eyes really are kind of burning and you just want to sit down and close them. You doze off a bit.

But you are awakened by the sneeze. The sneeze followed by the drippy nose.

Then the cough becomes deeper and it passes beyond the rough patch waaaay back in the back of your throat and it plunges down to the warming in the far corner of a lobe of your lung.

You are aware that you are slouched down in your chair, staring off into space and moaning softly.

Now it is entirely possible that all these growing viruses slowly expanding to become noticeable enough that you are starting to think about them mostof the time will all just decide to disappear. But as I sit here, the rough patch and the warm spot are more pronounced and seem, now, to be connected. And then there's the sore throat and the headache. And the cough.

I'm not going to get sick. You heard it here. I am not going to get sick.

Where is Mary Baker Eddy when you need her?

---

While I was busy sneezing and snoozing the puppies were having a wonderful time. Well, Freddie was having a wonderful time. He leaped from one recliner to the other, across my stomach, apparently found a container of cottage cheese that had been my lunch and cleaned that out, and he again found my cell phone. This time he removed the battery, which I found and it still works. Now I am carrying the phone around with me because I don't know where to leave it that is safe.

They all race outside en masse and start barking at ghosts in the yard. Freddie and Scrappy will come in when I call them, but Scooby won't come in the house if I call him in because he remembers that he was put on a leash and he won't come near me at all, which means he stays outside and barks.

I had to wait until the bigger dogs found something interesting to bark at in front and raced into the living room, with the 3 puppies in hot pursuit. I leaped out of my bed of pain and ran to the sliding glass door and shut it, then blocked off the dog door, so they are all in for the night.

I expect to be cleaning up Freddie pee.

All I really want to do is sit somewhere soft, with a nice box of kleenex and a gallon of water, watch the Olympics and moan softly.