Not So Sweet Home Alabama

First let me say that the time I spent at Scott & Suzie's home in Birmingham was lovely and wonderful. This morning Jared gave Suzie a note from "heaven" that said 6-year-olds did not have to go to church today. She pointed out to him that it really said they HAVE to go to church. He then asked for the note back so "heaven" could make the appropriate change. What a fun kid!
So, Scott & Suzie's = way fun, getting there and back = not so much.

The main trouble with the route between Ft Walton Beach/Eglin AFB, FL and Birmingham is the fact that I-65 heads North somewhere around Mobile, AL much too far to the west of my starting point. Ergo, I was forced to make my ever-so-merry way using the yellow and even red lines on my atlas. Yes, I tried the Google Maps trick (I'm not entirely computer inept, in fact I consider myself to be rather ept). The search yielded a yard-and-a-half long list of rights, lefts, u-turns and enough different road numbers to win several games of Bingo. So I asked directions of a couple of the guys at work who live here.

That was all well and good until I never did see a turn-off for FL 189 North (which turns into AL 137 North when it crosses the border, go figure) 189 South yes, but no 189 North. I wound up going all the way to beautiful downtown Milton, FL where I asked directions (yes, I may be a male but I do ask for them. Perhaps it's the diminished supply of testosterone) at an official county/city building of some sort. The kind lady behind the glass gave me excellent directions and sent me on my way. Too bad they didn't have a public restroom though as I really need that too.I made it from there to Birmingham without incident until I tried to find Scott's exit.

He told me several times and texted me #246. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Oh no. It seems there is much construction being foisted upon the Birminghamians, especially those who have to use I-65. As I felt I was nearing good old number 246, the entire right side of the road was lined with pretty orange and white striped barrels. No signage, just barrels. Not even overhead signs. I finally saw an exit sign but it had a big yellow caution-type sign right in front of it to the point of blocking all but the arrow. As I got even with it (and PAST the actual exit) I could see the number, 246 (of course). I got off at the next one, called Scott, got his directions and, voila, made it to his house.

For the return trip I was determined to correct my previous error and eliminate the extra 30 miles. This entailed leaving the comfort of I-65 much sooner and entering the wilds of yellow/red lines (mostly red ones).

Let me tell you something about rural Alabama. I should have learned from the movie "Deliverance." Evidently no one has ever left their community, EVER! Hence no one knows how to get anywhere else on the planet. I would have settled for the blind kid with three teeth and a banjo if he could have told me how to get to 137/189.

Also, there are NO speed limit signs in rural Alabama. Sure they have reduced speed ahead signs, but absolutely nothing that would give me from what to reduce it. The Po-Po don't take Sunday off either. On three different occasions I was followed by various and sundry gendarmes who pulled very close behind me then backed off. I can only assume they were running my plate number. I had no idea if I was going too fast or not so I decided to err on the side of slowness. I was almost ready to run my speed up to 70 just so I could ask one of them dhow to get to 137. I did notice that 55 was the road number and not necessarily the speed limit. I also noticed that Red Level, AL is neither.

Somewhere semi-close to the Florida line I was confronted with the choice of either turning right toward Pensacola, FL (too far west, I was looking for Crestview) or continuing straight on a road that was now a county road. Straight ahead I went but it felt too wrong so I opted to turn around in an empty (rats!) National Guard parking lot. I really wanted to ask someone, anyone how to get to bleeding Crestview.

The road toward Pensacola took me to US 90 and then close enough to I-10 that I could u-turn, jump on it and find my way back to Ft Walton Beach and my current abode at the Hampton Inn. I didn't get to make the 189 to 137 switch at the border on the way up nor on the way back but I shan't try again. Not on this trip anyway...

Sunny? Florida

Yes boys and girls, sports fans of all ages, I am writing this from Florida. Not the warm Miami, Key Westish part but the LA (Lower Alabama) part. True there is plenty of beautiful beach to be had but what good is wearing my speedo if it's under a parka?

This is a short-notice temporary duty (TDY) trip that dropped into my lap last week. This is only the second time I've gone TDY since I started working as a scheduler over 7 years ago. Oddly enough it's to the very same base (Eglin AFB). This time is much different though in that it's to test a software system and not to attend training. The best part is that the Air Force, not my company is paying for it. The good news is I'll get per diem and make some money. The best news is that I'll be able to drive up to Birmingham for the weekend to visit Scott, Suzie and their kids.

I flew here yesterday (Wednesday) and go back to Tucson Saturday the 5th. I will miss some birthdays as my sister Lorna, son Benjamin, and granddaughter Rose all have birthdays 1 FEB. How cool is that? I do get back in time for Melissa's on Sunday.

So far, since I left, the left tail light on the Altima went out and Danny says my car is going chug, chug, chug. How sweet it isn't. Move over Pauline. There is light at the end of the tunnel though. January 2011 will soon be history and we can only hope February will be much better to us.

I did receive quite the tender mercy on my way here though. I didn't notice until just before we left for the airport that I only had 45 minutes between flights in Dallas, making it impossible for me to get some lunch. 10:00 is way too early for me to eat so rather than have Babs make me a sandwich or buy one on the way or at the airport, we decided I could make do with the rice crackers she had bagged for me.

She dropped me off and as I was at the self-service kiosk, an American Airlines guy asked if I was on the 11:35 flight. I said yes an he said it was running late (really?) and if I hurried he could get me on the 10:30 flight. I did and he did so there was plenty of time for me to eat in Dallas. Hope springs eternal...

The Beat Goes On

Linda suggested a sacrifice to the plumbing gods to help the situation from my last blog but it turned out that the water was coming from the refrigerator so I made a blood sacrifice to the appliance gods along with $82 dollars to replace the leaky solenoid that feeds water to the ice maker. Problem solved.

We enjoyed a whole three days with nothing breaking down or leaking then came Tuesday morning. I was barely out of bed when Babs said, "The dryer quit." "Oh, and your Lazy Boy is broken." Really? Do I have my own personal rain cloud following me around?

It turns out that the dryer had been beeping for some time and the only way to make the beeping stop was to unplug it. Then it started beeping while it was drying. The fix for that was to give it a whack. It seems the whacks were so effective that it stopped working altogether.

I couldn't dissuade Babs from dismantling the thing so she did it while I was at work. Re-assembly didn't fix it so we had Benjamin come take a look at it since it used to belong to him. He said the beeps meant something was wrong (go figure). A quick peek on the internet proved him correct. In fact it said that eventually the dryer would stop working (duh). Problem? The controller board.

Summoning my paltry internet skills, I was able to find a replacement board for $121 directly from Sears. Since I didn't know how long it would take to ship it here or what the charges would be, I reverted to old school and went to a parts place that Benjamin suggested. They had a board in their Tempe store but it cost $132. I said I'd just get the one on line but she (the clerk) said I could have theirs for $117. Sold, to the man in the yellow hat. As I write this itt should be somewhere between Tempe and Tucson so we may be drying clothes by the weekend.

The Lazy Boy news is not as good. They guaranty them forever so all we have to pay for is labor, $60 worth of labor. That's bearable but the kicker is that the part to fix it could take EIGHT weeks to get here. It must be custom made in Tibet by 117 year old blind monks and shipped by asthmatic yaks.

So here I sit, on a camp chair with my feet propped up on a folding chair from the dining room. It could be a long eight weeks.

2011? Not So Great So Far

The first two days of 2011 were wonderful. Granddaughter Olivia was baptized on day one then granddaughter Charlotte was blessed on day two. It went straight downhill from there.

Day three was spent busier than heck at work trying to get three days of work done because I was going to be off the next two.

Day four was colonoscopy prep. That's not a college prep school. It consists of completely cleaning out your digestive tract by consuming only clear liquids for 24 hours and downing industrial strength laxative pills. This cleans the system like a white tornado. Or in my case, a blue one. I made the grand mistake of using blue jello as part of my clear liquid diet. I felt like Grandpa Smurf. Put as delicately as possible, poo should NOT be blue!

Day five, colonoscopy. Docs put me out (thankfully) and a camera where the sun don't shine. The procedure was tons better than the prep because I had a wonderful nap while it was happening. A&D Ointment became my best friend. The only redeeming social value of the day was when a Mexican (from Hermosillo) came by the house while I was recuperating and wanted to know if the yard ornament Prizm was for sale. I sold it to him for $100 and 3 dozen tortillas. It is now living a happy life in Mexico.

Day six, back at work. In my absence they pushed a new version of our database (PEX). I am the PEX administrator for my squadron. Nothing works. For anyone. RATS! I spend all day fixing and fixing and fixing. Very little scheduling, just fixing.

Day seven. Get to work at 6:30AM to try to get some scheduling done. Work until 6:00PM, still can't print out the schedule. Give up and go home for a late start on date night.

Day eight. Awake from a good night's rest with an improved attitude and ready to get something (anything) done. Decide to find/fix water leak that has caused a $92 bill followed by a $162 one. I had previously sent Pete out to check the meter when we had nothing using water in the house to see if it was still turning and he said "No." I thought it best to check for myself and found that it was indeed still turning. It turns out he had checked the gas meter.

Upon searching for the leak I find an oasis in the middle of the yard under the swing set. Eureka! Broken pipe between the house and the faucet at the back of the yard. Easy fix. We don't need to use that faucet anyway. Benjamin comes over and in less than an hour and less than $10 the problem is solved, the meter is no longer turning, Benjamin is back at his home and I am watching football. God is in His heaven. All is right with the world.

Ten minutes later Bekah informs me that there is no water in her bathroom. Great. I dig up the pipe to find that we have cut the water supply to that entire addition to the house. Benjamin comes back and he, Danny, and Joshua spend until 10:30PM digging a trench around the house so we can replace ancient paper-thin steel piping the the idiot previous owner snaked all over who knows where.

It is now day 13. The guys have successfully cut through the concrete slab and have the new lines run. We may have water to the washer and Bekah's room by tomorrow. I was off work yesterday having an endoscopy. It's much like the procedure last Wednesday but from the other end (ENDoscopy?) and without all the nasty prep. At work, we still can't print the schedule.

I can hardly wait to see what the rest of the year brings.

Addendum: Day 14. Woke up to water soaked carpet in the hall by the furnace room. Oh joy.

Sick, and Tired of It

I suppose it's just a part of "maturing" but it's driving me nuts. When I was a kid and for most of my life I seldom got sick. Measles and chicken pox were no fun but I missed the mumps even though two of my sisters had them at the same time. I thought they looked pretty funny with their fat faces. I didn't think much about it until I was on my mission in Guatemala and holding this cute chubby-faced kid on my lap. I commented to his mom about how cute he was with his fat cheeks when she she said he was sick with something called "paperas." I had no idea what that word meant so I asked my companion and he said mumps. I all but threw the kid back to his mom and ran out the door. I had heard what happens when young men get mumps and they (the mumps) drop. I later saw it first hand when both Scott and Jer had exactly that happen when they were teenagers.

Anyway, I managed to have some kind of creeping crud stomach ailment over Christmas then again the following Monday and Tuesday. It was bad enough Tuesday that I missed going to Zinburger with the rest of the family here for Amy's birthday. They make the best burger I have ever put into my face. I was so sad to not be there. It was pathetic. I felt like I had spent the night in a concrete mixer with a load of river rock. My gas had gas. My eyeballs hurt.
The redeeming social value was that it didn't last long and I got to come home from work early.

I'm reminded of some of the home remedies my Mom would use. Vick's Vapo Rub was the absolute best part of having a cold. That stuff smeared on my chest in the winter was better than an electric blanket. My Mom kept a Vick's Inhaler with her all winter long. It was a plastic tube about the same size as a lip balm tube and had that eucalyptus smelling stuff inside it. She kept it in her cleavage where it stayed nice and warm and would all but knock me on my backside when she gave me a whiff of it.

Hot toddies weren't too bad either. They were some kind of mixture of lemon juice, water, whiskey, and who knows what else. They may or may not have had any medicinal qualities but they made us feel nice and warm and not care whether we were sick.