The commotion is no more… but, the complaint lives 
New domain and I just absobuggerlutely got tired of trying to transfer - so, I give you:
Okay. I’m sick. Back when I was younger and feeling anywhere near this badly I would pitifully walk up to my mother and ask her to write me a note excusing me from whatever activities were going on at school that day. It worked then, so I figured that it could maybe work again, right?
Turns out that it is much harder to ask your mother to write you an excuse from work – or in this case from writing your weekly column – than it used to be; especially if your mother happens to be dead. Now, hold on a minute before you slap your head and groan at that joke. If you’d known my mother you’d have figured that death wouldn’t have been much of a speed bump for her when it came to taking care of her children when they were sick.
Anyways, once I accepted that my mother was unavailable, I went and asked my wife to help me out – and this is what I got:
I have taken over my husband’s column today because he is sick, though to hear him, you would think he was dying of the Black Death. He’s not - He has a cold.
The source of this mysterious cold is unknown, but I would really like to smack the person who gave it to him. Why, you ask? My husband must be the worst sick person in the world, is why. Since I am a lousy patient myself, that is saying quite a lot.
The cold started on Sunday with coughing and with, well, whining.
“Honey, my throat hurts. Honey, I hate to cough. Honey, bring me some iced tea.” Sunday wasn’t too bad though. We went and bought some medicine; he took it and stopped coughing some. He clearly felt lousy though because he wrote his boss an email saying he might miss work, something he rarely does.
We decide to take his temperature to see if he had a fever, and he did. As soon as he saw the numbers climb over 100 degrees a more pitiful sight wasn’t to be seen in the house, and that includes the cat desperately rolling on the floor to get a tummy rub.
It’s one odd cold because once he’s asleep, his coughing slows down a great deal. I mean it never wakes me up. I’m a light sleeper—well compared to everyone else—so if I haven’t woken up from his coughing, I can be sure he’s getting some sleep.
When Monday morning rolled around and my husband was sleeping peacefully with not a cough in hearing range, he didn’t start coughing until after I’d woken him up and he was in the shower. Then he started coughing up what sounded to be at his left lung. Well, ok, it sounded like it was his left lung, at least.
He gamely went to work, though. By the time he came home he was clearly tired and looking a bit out of things, which led him to head towards the bedroom. A nap ensued and then my husband woke and begain whining again that he “hated being sick,” and that he was tired of coughing.” I cannot count how many times I have heard this.
We did the same routine on Tuesday, and again this morning. Now, even I am tired of his coughing, but I am sure he is tired of it more than I am. So he is sick and has asked me to write his column for him this week. He’s got me coughing as I write it, though, and if he’s gotten me sick he’ll wish it really was the Black Death!
Yeah. That’s what I got! All in all, while I love my wife, I think my mother would have been more understanding of my sickness. Not once have I whined or complained or done anything other than act in a manly, tough, and outright macho manner while dealing with this cold… and if you buy that one, my friends, have I got a deal for you on some ocean front property just outside of DeWitt!
P.S. – All thanks to the wife I adore who gamely accepted the cough-filled gauntlet thrown in her general direction when I whined – yes, whined – that I didn’t feel good enough to come up with a column worth reading. Love you, Rosa!
Oh, my poor broken city… Tuesday was the first time I’ve had a chance to see with my own eyes what Mother Nature did to you. Instead of the kind and nurturing spirit that we have always depended on in this area so rich in agricultural blessings, we’ll never know what caused her to lash out at us in such fury.
All around your roads and neighborhoods are the ugly blue bandages of tarpaulins lashed to the remains of so many rooftops. Put up for the purpose of protecting what little is left of some structure’s integrity if not dignity – and don’t get me wrong, each blue square is a precious godsend for all the families that have entrusted their home and hearths under their spread – they seem to make the heart heavier the more they are clustered together.
Guiltily, each neighborhood passed that still resided in chaos, was compared to my own home. Even though my house was only darkened for the moment from lack of electricity and otherwise whole, I would mentally anguish over how close the destruction had come to my doorstep.
Such and such is only four blocks away from me, I’d think; that could have been my home but for the fact that this neighborhood had a home for sale when we were in the market, instead of that one; etc. etc. it was as if I needed to make myself ashamed that my family had made it through basically unscathed when so many had suffered so much.
After a while and as each neighborhood blended into another neighborhood of fallen trees and shattered homes, my brain simply couldn’t handle it, and my eyes began to gloss over everything and not really take the time to see. Even though I chastised myself when I noticed it, now that I am back home again I think it might have been a case of my mind blinding itself so that it might see.
Freed from fixating on the broken timbers and jagged rooftops, my eyes were able to see hundreds of my fellow citizens walking and working around their homes. Whether standing around and taking a break with each other over a well-deserved bottle of water, or pausing in the middle of what used to be their driveway to simply wipe away the sweat from their eyes as they stared up at the sky, it was something to see.
Instead of the blue patchwork of bandaged homes, there were children dressed in shirts of blue as they took a moment to play in their front yard with a ragamuffin puppy. Instead of the strained support beams standing naked and ugly in the sun, there were volunteers standing weary if not exactly straight and tall as they watched yet another tree go by that they had helped clear away from someone else’s home. Instead of these things and more, I saw the heart of a community as it beat proudly beneath ribs more than a little bruised.
Turn by turn, though, brought me closer to a return from where my journey began. For a moment, the view from the car window threatened to bring me back towards thinking of all of this as some sort of sad and desolate war zone that I’d visited as opposed to streets and neighborhoods where many of my Stuttgart brothers and sisters had long ago chosen as their “home”—the place special enough for them to settle down and raise their families – and that’s when I noticed something that shook loose any such thoughts in a flash.
Written on a broken wall that still helped to hold up a home that was missing a rather large part of its roof, was a simple notice that read “Home for Sale. Roof leaks.” And in that instant, as quick as lightning and just as harsh as summer thunder, I allowed myself to laugh at the surest sign I’d yet seen that everything eventually would be all right.
How could we not be?
Sure, we are battered, and we are definitely a bit worse for wear, but I see now that we a city that is far stronger than perhaps we ever imagined ourselves to be; stronger, and filled with the ability to laugh hard enough at ourselves and our situations; that we are able to shake free the tears from our eyes and focus on tomorrow’s possibility instead of yesterday’s pain.
That is what I love about this town, and why I am now positive I made the right choice in making it my home. Having said that – I’m always looking for real estate opportunities, and I’d like to ask if utilities are included in the price on that house? Let me know, ok?
Before I get too far into the joy of writing tonight, I’d like to ask forgiveness up front if this seems a bit rougher than my usual rambling. It isn’t often that I find myself writing by the light of an uprooted solar-powered lawn lamp that used to rest in the ground off to the immediate left of my front door. You’d be amazed at the glow that this thing gives off when everything is completely dark, though!
Here goes nothing…
Much like a battered prize-fighter who finds himself woozily wandering around the ring after having been flattened to the ground by a punch he never expected, everywhere I looked Monday, people had the look of simply being amazed to find themselves alive and well in the wake of Saturday’s tornado. At least, that’s how I looked when I found myself staring into the mirror before heading out for work this morning.
First of all, I’d like to offer up my immense gratitude at my prayers being answered that all of us seem to have come through Saturday night with our lives intact. Even though my words might not have been the ones actually heard and answered, the outcome was still the same and for that I am going to try and keep my end of the bargain I made that night, in trying to do more on my part as regards reconnecting with my faith.
My family and I were lucky enough to be home and hear the sirens go off somewhere around 7:20 p.m. Saturday. Just sitting down for a late supper, we turned on the television and watched the weather updates as they scrolled along the bottom of the screen. Within moments, though, the program stopped and was replaced by the sounds of the Channel Four weather team as they began to tell us about the intense storm cell that seemed to be aiming itself toward our town.
That is about the most beautiful thing that I could type this morning. My family as well as everyone on my community - are alive and well after Saturday’s EF3 Tornado which tore hell though our small town. We are without power at home as are many many people - but we are here.
As I’m sure everyone is aware of, thanks in large part to the ninety-nine million advertisements bombarding every possible corner, this Sunday is Mother’s Day; so, should you be the one soul out there that was unaware of this fact and you do in fact somewhere in your family have a person that would qualify as being a mother, I’d like to suggest that you rush out right now and set things in motion so that you are still with us on Monday.
Seriously, I’ll wait.
Hopefully I’m not going to alienate anyone, but while you’re out there rushing about and buying flowers or jewelry, I’ll be sitting here confused and feeling awkward. With my own mother having passed away and my mother-in-law living an entire state away, it’s a holiday that has me anxiously sitting about and thinking that I should DO something to celebrate it.
Not only did he outdo Radiohead’s “Pay what you want” structure with NIN’s last release “Ghosts I-IV” - an instrumental masterwork, btw - he’s now gone and totally created and released for download (in a variety of formats ranging from mp3 all the way to “better than cd quality” .WAV files) - a brand new and “proper” NIN album, entitled “The Slip” and has done so for FREE.
Eventually “The Slip” will be released on CD and Vinyl - and I’ll be pre-ordering it as soon as possible. It’s a damned fine album. What’s amazing is that, released from the restrictions of a major record label, Reznor seems happy and motivated and PRODUCTIVE as all hell - and he’s channeling it all into becoming one of the more savvy artists as regards how his music is handled and spread with the help of the web. Kudos, Mr. Reznor, Kudos!
Head on over to NIN.com and download “The Slip” for yourself.
Even though we overslept a bit and got off to a slow start - the day ended up being wonderful and wonderfully spent. There is nothing quite like an afternoon spent with family to help recharge your batteries after a stressful week at work. So, armed with that thought, we headed out and had a grand time wandering around the Little Rock Zoo. With perfect weather and just the right amount of a breeze, nearly all the animals were walking about and showing off for the many (MANY!) people oogling at them.
It was wonderful! Afterwards, we hit (naturally) up a bookstore. In a weird departure from the norm it was my wife who ended up grabbing nearly an entire aisle of books compared to my two (one of which was for both of us, at that). Come to think of it - the sisterbeast also ended up with more literary loot than I.
No fair!
Afterwards, a slight detour to Target where the sb found the 2nd season of “Feasting on Asphalt” - another wife thing! Grr - and then on to the pet store so that we could by a nice screen top for the sb’s gerbil aquarium o’ doom. All in all - our Saturday rocked - and I hope the same was true for anyone and everyone else.
Until later…