Man this is awesome!

So I ran 20 miles on Sunday and another 5 yesterday. When I sit down for any period of time longer than say 2-3 minutes - my joints seem to freeze up. It takes about 20 steps for my gate to somewhat return to normal. Getting up in the morning is a chore - it reminds me of when Michael J. Fox once said every now and again when he gets up in the morning he forgets he has that illness, until he takes a couple of steps. Same thing (sort of) for me. I forget that everything hurts until I almost fall flat on my face each morning after rolling out of bed. Going up stairs is not a problem really but going down requires both hand rails. Right now I have some weird crook in my right ankle, a quarter size water balloon blister on my left arch, and my quads seem to be miss-firing when I walk. My hips are like a tin-man's that are in desperate need of some oil. My back is a little sore and I've learned the hard way that excessive running can do a number on your intestines and bowels so I also have to squeeze the sphincter muscle while I hobble along. My right shin hurts, as does my left heel. I've learned that during long runs you can drink too much water, or too little - each of which can have dire consequences - swelling of the brain being one of them. How do I know when that happens? my sinuses are a bit stuffed up right now but maybe that's allergies?

The good thing is I only have to run 8 miles tomorrow morning so that will be a nice change of pace.

Man I love this hobby....

Did you know.............

It is interesting that sometimes we miss out on some piece of knowledge along the way. Like I heard this person say they just always thought those street crossing signs that read: "Ped X-ing" were read as Ped ZING. Now that is perfectly understandable to me, because no one ever reads that sign out loud nor have I seen it explained properly in a text book. I am not sure about now, but when I was growing up no one told me the deal on those signs. I wouldn't know one way or the other. I do remember PED from my two years of Latin, meaning foot or something like that.

And I never learned exactly what seasons are what months. Like is summer technically May, June, and July. Or is it June, July, and August? When does "fall" really start? Is it always the same day regardless of where you live? Does it change with time zones or longitude? I hear the weatherperson sometimes say this day or that day is the first day of winter, but I never know if that is correct or just a throw away line. Was this some knowledge we were supposed to learn along the way and retain for future use? Does everyone else know this except me?

I had a kid ask me the other day at school "what number is October?" I looked at him with close encounters of the third kind face and didn't have a clue what he was talking about. I was thinking, Jesus have we started saying a number now instead of the name of the month? Is this some new Google term? Was this on Letterman? Did I misplace this tidbit at my 'things to remember' brain drawer? Then I saw he was filling out a form and wanted "10" for October. So I was on it like a duck on a June bug and told him "TEN"! My brain kicked into gear and I remembered all the months have numbers associated with them in the order they appear in the year. Quickly I reeled off, inside my head, the numbers and months. I knew the number and name perfectly except April, May, July, and August. January , February, and March were as easy as 1, 2, 3. June made sense too because it is middle month and I should have been able to remember July because it is middle month plus one. But August had no special attachment. September was easy because of Rudy Giuliani saying 911 over one million times in the past 4 years., October fell into place because thats when some of my favorite people were born, and November / December were easy because that's at the end of the cycle.

It is interesting to think about the things we don't know and why we don't know them.

Anaphylaxis / Anaphylactic Shock

This weekend I was lucky enough to learnt what Anaphylaxis / or Anaphylactic shock is - the hard way. We had found a nice campsite that was right on the lake. We were planning to spend the weekend camping, boating, swimming, etc., Unfortunately however it seemed that our campsite was overrun with fire ants. Now, I've been bitten by fire ants in the past; a couple times while playing golf, once on a lake, once in my backyard, etc., and while it would swell up, burn, itch, etc., it wasn't 'that' big of a deal. The little bastards can sure pack a punch but it would go away after a couple days.

On Friday however I got about 7 bites at the same time on my foot. I brushed them off, killed a couple and said some colorful words but then went about my business. About 2-3 hours later however I was sleeping in the tent (which had some more ants in there as well) and my entire body started to burn. I woke up my wife and asked if she could see anything on me, ants, spiders, ANYTHING? - I was on FIRE. I then frantically went into our car to use the dome light and still couldn't see anything - but the burning was getting worse my entire body was on fire. I was starting to really freak out because it seemed that whatever had hit me or bit me - was still hitting or biting me so I took off my shirt frantically, then I fully disrobed in the van. I didn't know what to do - I was thinking about jumping in the lake. I wasn't sure if I had poison ivy and needed to wash my hands and my frantic actions were actually spreading the toxin? I just didn't know. Then the welts / hives started to spread and grow very FAST. Within seconds my ENTIRE BODY was covered in hives... under my arms, inside my thighs, legs, my hands were swelling, my ears were burning, and my mouth was starting to tighten up. I needed some immediate medical attention but we were in another town and we had no idea where to go. I was certain however that time was of the essence and I honestly felt like I was losing the battle.

We were driving down the road, and when we'd hit a red light (at 3:00am mind you) we'd ask people in the car next to us for directions. We finally found the hospital / emergency room and the employees there were having a hard time even looking - apparently I looked VERY bad. I was covered in hives and my face looked like I should have been in that "Thriller" video, very blotchy and looked as if death was setting in. When I looked in the bathroom mirror I'd never seen anything like it - my eyes were blood red and my face was indescribable really.

They rushed me to the back and quickly gave me an adrenalin shot (see also Pulp Fiction) as well as an IV with steroids, souped up benadryl and some other meds. The Nurse told me that my body was shutting down in response to the venom. Amazingly, within about 10-15 minutes everything had cleared up at the hives had essentially vanished.

The next day I went to the store and got a bunch of ant killer, spray, powder, etc., and treated our camp site. I had created a 'perimeter' if you will around the fire pit, our tents, tables, etc., and it worked well. I just paid close attention to not stopping or standing still in 'untreated' areas.

I had gone all day without getting bit, and at the end of the day I had decided to sleep in the car since I still wasn't that comfortable with the idea of sleeping outside after what happened the night before. Unfortunately however the car was hot and so I was going to see if my friend would mind if I slept on their boat instead so I walked outside (barefoot) and talked to them for a couple minutes (as they were still out by the camp fire) unfortunately I was standing still on yet another ant hill that I had not treated with ant poison yet and WHAM. They started nailing me again all over my feet. I frantically swatted them off and ran back into my car - where I found that a couple were still on my feet, one was between my toes and they just continuously kept biting. (as I read later they will bite, rotate around, and bite again.) This time however the severe reaction was almost immediate (where it took a few hours the night before). I instantly started to burn up, and hives started breaking out all over my body - but this time it felt much worse. I was wheezing and had hives sprouting up on the back of my neck around my hair line. I immediately rushed to the E.R. again where the same people were working from the night before. One nurse even gave me some grief "What are you doing here again!?" using the tone of a disappointed but caring grandmother. "Order up the usual" I mustered, and so it went again, a strong dose of adrenalin, rapid muscle twitches, a racing heart, followed by an amazing turn-about of events where the allergic reaction quickly subsided - but not without the help of some very strong medications.

I asked the nurse this time what would have happened if say I lived 50 to a 100 years ago or in another country without such advanced medicine and she said "you'd be a gonner - done, no question."

So now I have to carry around with me (at all times) what's called an "Epipen" which is an individual dose needle thing carrying a strong dose of adrenalin - that I'm supposed to stab / jam into my thigh in the event I get bit by another fire-ant (or have someone else stab me in the event I've passed out - comforting).

Unfortunately now, after coming close to death two times, before I put on my shoes I shake them out. Before I put on socks, I shake them out. I also pay attention to the ground a lot more, and I regularly feel like something is crawling on me. The "good thing" however is that I have a nice needle ready to go that I can "Swing and jab" (per instructions) into my leg at a moments notice. The best part was that this epipen thing came with two doses, and a third non-medicinal "practice" needle so that I could "practice" jabbing myself in the thigh.

Other than that we had a great weekend. The weather was just awesome and we told some good campfire stories. The kids had a great time. We all got a bit too much sun, and maybe drank 1 or 2 too many beers - but hey.... life is about the stories right?

Running Man

So I have this GPS watch thing that tracks and reports my pace, distance, etc, I just found a button on there where it will tell me what I've done year to date.

So far this year I've logged the following:

195.3 Miles

26 Hours :20 Minutes : 41 Seconds

31,857 Calories

The best part is.... I don't really like to run

What the!!!!!!

Several weeks ago I had set out on a run.. it was dusk and I was running along this dark winding wooded trail when all of a sudden some massive flying bug of some sort smacked me in my ear (even the bugs are bigger in Texas) … I could hear it BUZZING around and subsequently I was frantically trying to swat it away… and then I noticed it maybe it was STILL IN MY EAR because I could feel this massive structure of some sort in my ear which really freaked me out so I stopped running, leaned over, and frantically tried to dig it out of my ear but it turns out it was just my ear-bud from my ipod headphones.

(See, apparently a bug had in fact hit me in the ear, made a buzzing sound, but then quickly went on its way… however I still thought it was in there … but it was just my ear piece for my ipod)

In closing, I will say, even though it may "sound" like a good idea at the time… don’t take acid before you set off on a run. While you won't read that in any "Runner's World" magazines (A curious omission for sure!) .. I think it's worth mentioning.

Things that make you go hmm.....

Isn’t it ironic?

As we all know, just about everything in life can be looked at a couple different ways. I’ve noticed some things recently that sort of make me scratch my head and wonder.

As everyone may know, Mccain recently mocked Obama as being too much of a “celebrity” and compared him to Brittney Spears and Paris Hilton. However, wasn’t Ronald Reagan actually a celebrity? He was a TV host and President of the Screen Actors Guild right? – And it seems most republicans look at him as if he is the second coming. So I suppose McCain could have compared Obama to Reagan no? unlikely right.

Anyway, I also find it interesting (or ironic) that the most outspoken President against gay marriage in history, has seen more advances under his watch for homosexual protections than any other president. Many people voted for him because of this divisive issue and now gay marriage is more acceptable than ever before – it’s now even legal in a couple states. I’m not judging I’m just saying it sure is ironic.

In addition, the one president who claims to have kept us safe, while claiming that for example John Kerry, Democrats, etc., could not keep us (as) safe was the one president who was actually supposed to be at the wheel during one of the most horrific attacks on our soil in history.... hmmm…

Funny too how we're posturing against Iran, calling them evil, which I won’t discount here .. but it's the USA who signed a "doctrine" whereby we would not hesitate to invade another country 'preemptively' i.e. without provocation if we felt justified. It’s also the USA that leads the world in Nuclear stockpiles. McCain says we need to stop Iran from processing nuclear fuel – while also campaigning himself to create another 40+ nuclear power plants inside the U.S. We fear Iran using a Nuke, but the U.S. remains the only country to have ever used one – and ironically we dropped them on densely populated civilian cities to boot. We’re also the country that spends more on military than the next top 15 countries combined – and we recently manufactured evidence to justify invading another country.... but we need to keep a very close eye on Iran... hmm....

I also find it Ironic that the leader of the biggest evangelical Christian church (Haggard), who had regular access to the White House, turned out to be a homosexual crack head himself.

I’ve also always wondered how one can reconcile being pro-war, but also pro-life - you'll find this a lot on the "religious right" if you will. Can you on one hand say that death in war is just collateral damage so that the survivors can have a better life – when isn’t that also the justification a person might use when considering an abortion?

Things that make you go hmm…one's perception can become their deception.

Genetically Bootylicious

So Wednesday I go to pick up my wedding dress from Ursula's Alterations. Ursula had hemmed the dress - mostly in the front. It is a full length MOG (mother of the groom) number with lots of glitter and a long zipper down the back that won't lay flat when I try the dress on. On my first visit, Ursula had kindly opined in her German accent that this is the result of it being one of those nylon zippers. On my return visit, Ursula's assistant seemed pleased when she saw the dress and hem length until she saw the back zipper and commented "dress too tight here" while tugging at the fabric. This whole episode put me in the mind of an earlier family booty story about Aug being fitted for a tux for Glenn's wedding. The jacket had one of the center flaps at the back hem, and the sales clerk commented: "It will lay flat when you take the wallet out of your back pocket" - to which Aug sadly responded that there was no wallet in his pocket. I called him last night to verify the facts before writing this blog, and he reminded me that at the time Glenn offered, "Tell her 'If you have a spike up front, you might as well drive it with a hammer.' " (Fortunately, my dress comes with a jacket.)

No Sudden Moves

When I was growing up back at Broad Rock, occasionally Gram Records would make an afternoon visit. She would drive her Plymouth Duster from North Kingstown with her annoying chihuahua Taffy (adjective unnecessary?) in tow. After bidding her goodbye at the back door (in response to "Gram is leaving now. Come say good bye."), I would rush into the living room to turn on the tube - as TV was not allowed when company was present. (good rule) Broad Rock had a long narrow driveway, bordered by the house on one side and a chain link fence on the other. This fence was installed by the neighbors to the west after their son Martin began to walk. (That's another story. Suffice it to say the phrase "child ain't right" applied to Martin.) Anyway, Gram was VERY cautious when backing out of the driveway, and it was not a quick exit. I figured my time was better spent warming up the TV than continuing to wave my arm off while she was concentrating on her reverse.

I just wanted to share this picture I found with you. There's no big story here except to relate that I remember one afternoon waving goodbye at the back door and rushing to the living room in the front of the house to turn on Dark Shadows. I was intently enjoying the show for at least 5-10 minutes, it seemed, before a commercial break. Something caught my eye, and, when I looked out the window, Gram was STILL backing the car out of the driveway. (Taffy was in the back window with his paws covering his eyes.)

Follow up....

As a follow up to the previous "re-told" story about the Dr. Pepper explosion... while no pictures were taken at the time of the incident, this unidentified writer was able to re-inact part of the incident for investigators and has provided the following photos.

A day in the life with rain and canaloupe.

So I have been in the Florida house a day or two. I get up this afternoon and decide to ride my bike to the grocery store: Publix. My main purpose is to take my receipt with me and get a replacement cantaloupe for the bad one I got the other day. I started to cut it for breakfast and it had mold on the rind. I think Publix has some policy that seems like “if you ain’t happy we ain’t happy”. I figure what the hell…I ain’t happy about this worthless cantaloupe. Which I should have been suspicious of to begin with because it was labeled an “Athenian” cantaloupe…whatever the hell that means. So I cruise over by boan and bay-bo's on the Publix run. They are working in the back yard and wander out front to chat. I tell boan that she has a package on her front porch and a flyer stuck in the door. Being naturally curious and with time to kill, I wait for her to look at both of them. Boan has just received a package from UPS or FedEx. She opens it up and it's a stainless steel water bottle. She and Abbzug were discussing the fact that reusing plastic water bottles could be toxic….so she ordered this safe stainless one for their bike rides. I said I had heard that too as I took a swig from my water-refilled-Gatorade-plastic-bottle. Bay-bo has a mallet in his hand and claims to be fixing their gate locks. They spy a bottler of tea sitting on their new wall. Apparently Boan had left it there earlier in the day. I allowed as to how P-Lou and I had both left our keys sticking out of the door lock in the past few days. Seems forgetfulness is common in the village.

I bid adieu and begin to pedal down the street to Publix. I see Vail the plumber working on his small house next door to his big house. I wheel around and hail him with "do you know what you are doing?" He says he is putting a solar heating panel on the roof. We discuss the merits of solar heat, 50 gallon water heaters, and O’Doul’s. He said he wants to lose some weight so he has been drinking O’Doul’s and likes the taste. Said it cost about the same as beer but has a different taste. I can't remember drinking any O’Doul’s but now may reconsider. After about 15 minutes of conversation I am ready to head to Publix.

I start down the road on my bike again determined to go to Publix. Pedaled into the town and out…cruising on 58th street….hair flying in the breeze……life is good…… I see a woman get out of a car and walk over towards an old man lying on the sidewalk. She waves at me to come over. I stop and get off my bike….. cross the road and we approach the guy. He is lying on his back and seems to be awake. He has really thick glasses and stares at us like we are aliens. "Are you ok? Do you need any help? Are you hurt?" He grunts that he is ok, just needs help getting up. He had fallen backwards and cracked his head....no blood. The woman kindly asks if he has been drinking or is on some medication. . He said no, he just has trouble walking. Another guy , Alex, stops and helps me get "George" up to the standing position. George wobbles but he doesn't fall down…….if we both hold him. George is 79 and lives down the road alone and wants to go home. After some more discussion and grunts we put George between Alex and me with an arm over each of our shoulders and begin walking him home...slowly. The woman says she will stay there and watch my bike while we take the guy home. I notice she is in a Jeep Liberty with what appears to be her teenage daughter, so I am guessing my bike is safe. (And I feel I can trust her because now every time I see a Jeep …… I think of Jay being in that Jeep TV commercial with the singing birds, squirrels, and wolf) George is short, overweight, and large of stomach so me and Alex are humped over walking squat-crab like down the road with George between us. We finally get George home and he doesn't want to go in the house. We sit him in a plastic chair in the drive-way. He assures us he is ok. I have my doubts but Alex and I leave him there. I walk back to my bike a block or two away. The woman was true to her word, standing vigilantly beside my bike. We all mumble some "have to look out for each other" statements and disperse. I mount up, turn around and pedal down to the village police station. I think someone needs to check on George or at least be aware of the situation. Our village police station office closes at 4:30 PM...It’s 4:36 PM. I walk up to the police office door and press the intercom and tell the Voice a readers digest condensed version of what is happening with George. the Voice says hang on and some one will let you in. I wait. P-Lou calls me on the cell phone wanting to know where I am. I start talking to her on the cell phone and the Voice says something else. I press the button again and talk to the Voice. It says "open the right door". I try the right door and it doesn't move. I tell P-Lou I will call her back. I press the intercom button again. I am trying to talk as the Voice is trying to talk. Finally I get in the building. I tell the officer the story. He says he will go check on the guy. The officer asks my name and date of birth. I give him my middle name and last name, because I am from the south and when people say: what is your name? I always say "Vic". He then throws me a curve and asks for my middle name. He has me now. I have to admit my middle name is Victor. I tell him my real first name. He eyes me suspiciously and writes my full name and a small spiral note pad. He wants my phone number now too.

I leave the police office and pedal back to my house. Explain to P-Lou the story of my travels and why after 1-1/2 hours I haven't been to the store yet. I take a pee and refill my plastic drink bottle, get back on my bike and head for Publix ….again. And just for the hell of it , I retraced my route back to George's house. George and Alex are sitting out in plastic chairs in the driveway. I stop and talk to them a few minutes. George seems ok. He said are you Victor? The policeman came by and said you asked him to check on me. I was amazed that the policeman actually went and checked on George. I pedal off again to Publix….about 3 miles down the road.

Almost there and the rain and lightning start. I just make it to Publix and the bottom falls out. About a million gallons of water pour from the heavens. I go into the market. I explain to the service desk lady the deal about the cantaloupe. She tells me to go get another one and bring it to the service desk. I grab a melon, check out at the desk and head out the door. About 40 people are all standing in the doorway because it is raining cats and dogs and nobody wants to go out the door. I butt my way through the crowd and go outside but stay under the overhang. P-Lou calls and asks if it is raining. I said yea I will just wait it out before coming back home. She said she has talked to Bay-bo and he will drive his truck down to get me and my bike. I said don’t worry about it. She said Bay-bo is already on the way. I wait under the overhang for Bay-bo. I have my cantaloupe in hand and watch the rain fall, people get wet, and cars slow down.

Bay-bo pulls up in his big 4 door crew cab black truck and motions for me to take my bike and fat ass down the walkway a bit so he can pull up next to the curb. I walk my bike down and meet him past the restaurant. It is raining like hell now. We can hardly see each other. I stand under the overhang and watch as he hops in the back seat, opens the passenger side front and back doors and shouts through a curtain of water: “hand me the groceries”. I hand him the cantaloupe. He stares at the one item and then at me in disbelief………and asks “that’s all???”. (I assume when he volunteered to come and get me that he thought I had ridden my bike to the grocery store, bought several bags of food, my bike baskets were overflowing. And I really needed a ride home.) So I walk my bike behind his truck, he jumps out and helps me load it up. We get back in the cab. Both soaking wet. Fortunately, Bay-bo had the foresight to bring a dry towel with him. We dry off and head home.

I am thinking on the ride home. I sure hope this is a good damn cantaloupe. I would hate to have to bring it back tomorrow.

Re-told

Entitled "Tuesday" (Written again by unnamed family friend....)



So, I went on a Starbucks run today; the nearest is about 12 minutes away. I was sent to get a hot chocolate, venti iced coffee and grande vanilla bean frap with an extra shot. I ordered and the total was $10.63. My coworkers had given me $7 in cash but I was just going to use my debit card to pay. So I looked in my purse and no wallet. This morning I had realized I didnt have my wallet, but did have my debit card, so I thought I was cool unless they asked me for ID. Anyway, so I start looking through all the little pockets and couldn't find my card. I thought maybe I had left it in my car this morning when i got coffee so I went to look. I couldn't find it so considered driving all the way back to work or gathering all the loose change to pay the difference. I looked all through my car and found a handful of nickles and dimes. My coffee had spilled in the center console and the change was all stuck together and was really really gross. So I went back in and the cashier was just kinda waiting for me... I had to go in the bathroom to rinse off the change so I could SEPERATE it.... I FINALLY got it all unstuck and went to pay and I was STILL short 2.86. The cashier was looking at me like, really?? You are that broke and you are spending the last bit of your money on coffee?? So I guess she felt bad for me and took off the charge for the extra shot, the total was something like 1.76. So I pulled out this REALLY old used gift card I had saved to give to my daughter and told her to try it. She said "Well if you don't know the amount on the card it probably won't work". I had no idea if there was any money on it... so she tried it and it didn't work for the total so she tried it again for $1.50. Thank god it worked that time! So I still owe starbucks some change... pathetically she took it out of the tip jar.

Seriously... every day this is my life.

Re-Told.....

Entitled .... "Monday" (By a family friend)

So, in order to get Diet Dr. Pepper here at my office I have to walk about half a mile to the other office and buy them from one of the sales teams refrigerator. I really wanted one so I walked over there to get one and they were not in the refrigerator yet; but I bought 2 any way, thought I would store one over here for next time. SO, on the way back I stopped in the breakroom/cafeteria thing to get ice so that I could drink one of the sodas.There were about 60 people eating lunch and hanging out- some of the execs were in their as well. I washed my cup and filled it with ice and was carrying the 2 sodas and my cup out and somehow both sodas slipped out of my hand and fell on the ground. They both exploded and starting spouting out soda like a sprinkler. Diet Dr. P was spraying all over the place and the cans were spinning in circles. I wasn't sure if I should grab them really fast and head for a sink or wait for them to slow down, either way, I was already getting soda all over me and so were all the people in their nice work clothes in the area. What made it worse, their was a huge floor fan right where the drinks fell and the air was literally blowing the DDP all over everyone! People were jumping all over the place and screaming.... it was pretty funny and embarassing. Anyway, I finally grabbed them and ran over to the sink, but the soda was ALL OVER the floor (and all over my coworkers)..... I started cleaning it up and misstepped and slid one foot almost all the way across the floor... so I was basically doing the splits and the only way I could get up was to sit down in the soda pool, everytime I tried to get my footing I would just slip more. I finally got up and EVERYONE was laughing at me. Finally, some guys helped me clean up the mess.... this one guy had on a pink lightweight button down shirt and it was so wet... and spotty...so... yeah. I had the whole fight or flight moment and decided to not run out (although I TOTALLYwanted to) I started chatting people up, trying to be all funny and got this guy to buy me a new soda. But, I look so gross today, my hair is all wet with soda and sticking to my face and halfway in a ponytail and half all over the place. My clothes don't match, I look like I had an accident in my pants and I have no makeup and bags under my eyes.... so I couldnt even try and play 'cute'.... for reals... this just happened.

They just all look the same don't they?

As a preface, and as everyone might know by now, I work for a Korean Company.

Anyway, upon my return from a recent business trip, I met with my boss to discuss what I had accomplished, we went over some questions, opinions, etc., The following day however he sent me an email asking me various questions about my trip. At first I thought it was a little odd because we went over most of the stuff already, but nonetheless I figured maybe he wanted a recap in writing, so I obliged.

As time went on we discussed more topics, resolved some more issues, etc., and yet again I got an email from him asking again some of the same questions that I'd thought we already answered. This time however, in the email, I had to use wording like "as per our previous discussion" and "as you mentioned", etc., in hopes of refreshing his memory a little. I even went and spoke with another manager to see if she knew why he was sending me these emails after we had already spoken about the matters at length... maybe he was tired or stressed I wondered.

Last night I got another email from him, and at the end of the email he said "Please respond before you leave" and I looked at the time of the email and it said 6:40pm and I almost spit out my cold coffee "as if" I thought to myself... he knows I'm out the door at 4:59:59.

Then it hit me. It wasn't my boss sending me the emails - it was someone from our Seoul, Korea office. See my boss' name is, at least as I call him, "W.Y.Kim" (they use initials in the US) his full name, as it appears in email (as I know now) is "Kim.Wonyong" and I was getting emails from "Kim.Woohyong" who is actually "W.H.Kim" as in "Woo Hyung", where as my boss is Won Yong... I guess it's true what they say... they do all look alike.

Plumbing Problems Can Be a Pisser

(Basic Guidelines to Problem Solving and Decision Processes Concerning Location and Repair of Water Leaks or Advice to Polvo)

1. Ask yourself what causes you to think there is a problem. This is very important and often where you will go wrong. Don’t react to what they think the problem is. Instead, seek to understand more about why you think there is a problem. First things first: In a potential water leak situation, make sure there is an actual water puddle. Do not be tricked by some “maybe this - maybe that” stain, dampness, slight wetness, vague moldy-fungus smell, or the fact that some family member slipped and fell on the floor. All of these things can be ignored or put off. If you even think there is a possibility of a water leak, observation of a water puddle is a must.

2. Circle the puddle with a magic marker to determine if it is getting bigger. Hell, it may go away. If it doesn’t dry up and disappear, watch it for a minimum of 7 days. Don’t start wasting your leisure time and limited brain power worrying about a potential water leak until you have something to worry about. Jesus H. Christ, we all have enough problems in this world to keep us occupied without looking for more. (This 7 day observation period may need to be modified or severely shortened if your wife finds out about the puddle and starts riding your ass to do something.)

3. Step three is evaluating the puddle to determine best course of action. If the puddle shrinks and goes away, you are home free. If the puddle stays the same size, determine if you can live with it. If the puddle gets larger you need to start thinking about causes. Note: do not spring into action; a little thinking now can save you a lot of work later.

4. You need to broaden you knowledge of puddle history when trying to determine possible causes. I suggest a few afternoons/evenings of drinking beer and brainstorming with buddies at the local sports bar. This may not help you with the puddle problem, but is fun during football and basketball season, when Tiger woods is in the chase, Jeff Gordon is making a final pit stop or happy hour. Guys drinking seem to have (or think they have) vast knowledge of assorted problems and solutions. Ease the puddle problem into the conversation, sit back and enjoy another long neck Coors and listen up. You are going to discover a multitude of causes and solutions. Probably none will be related to your specific situation, but it is always good to hear about others having worse problems than you have. And keep in mind: One of these yappers could (A) have a cousin that is a plumber, (B) possibly know a plumber, or (C), if you hit the jackpot, actually be a plumber. This is sometimes valuable future information. However be very, very careful about approaching plumbers or discussing water leaks with them. They are pretty tight lipped with any really helpful “free” information and always have this wild and crazy idea about getting paid somewhere in the back of their minds.

Bottom line: think of all the possible causes of a puddle on the floor.

5. Try to rule out by observation as many puddle causes as you can. Is this a spilt bottle of bleach, Windex, or beer? Is it a roof leak caused by a tornado? (Hint: look up…..do you have a roof?) Did the dog, a neighbor, the meter reader, or some visiting relative just pee on the floor? Is this a sign from god? (If so, try to think of ways to cash in on the face-of-Mary-shaped puddle.) And some really important stuff like: is the puddle near the sink, bathtub, refrigerator, air conditioner, or washer? Etc.

6. Make sure you understand your role in this specific problem. Ask yourself: was this puddle caused by any action (of lack of action) on my part? Did your wife tell you to do something or not do something that may have caused this? This is very important. Think hard. When initial discussions of the problem begin….and you can bet your sweet ass they will.......I mean come on now, you know these types of chickens will always come home to roost. You want to make sure you are not fumbling for words or making up lame shit on the fly. (That adlib approach never works for a guy and you know it.) Do not ever ever ever ever enter into the “problem-was-caused by” stage of the conversation unprepared. Imagine yourself standing there with nothing but the truth to offer…...not a pretty sight.
If the answer is yes; you did something wrong….. begin thinking of an alibi, excuse, or someone to pass the blame to immediately. (May want to consider another run to the sports bar.)
If this is one of those extremely rare instances…like once in a lifetime happenings…… where you didn’t have anything to do with causing the problem (or you can look your wife in the eye and say that with a straight face) enjoy the moment. Relax, have a beer.

7. So now, say you may have identified the problem as something to do with the washer area. Your days of research, observation, and calculations have narrowed it down to the washing machine: reservoir tank, valve, water supply, hose, fittings, or tub. Before going any further, think about alternatives to resolving the problem. Can we just not wash clothes for a while? Can we put a towel over the puddle each day? Can the dog lick the puddle up as needed? Can we step over the puddle and pretend it is not there?

If none of these seem like a workable solution, you need to start thinking about fixing the leak.


8. Select an approach to resolve the problem. Consider all avenues, even radical solutions like calling a plumber before you actually decide to risk your life, waste several days, and eventually end up spending more money than you would have by hiring a plumber and do it yourself.

9. First you stand and try to look behind the machine for a clue. You don’t have the flashlight so you cup your hands around your face, like this is going to help. This never works. Next you start reaching into the accessible areas of the washing machine. This never works because it would be too easy and everyone would do it. You finally decide to crawl behind the machine just because you have run out of options based on your limited knowledge of water leak identification.


10. Now listen up………at this point it is best to go take a pee before trying to climb behind the washer. It is pretty much a given that once you hang over the machine, avoid the shelf hanging over the machine, snake your self down thru spider webs, hoses, wires, and pipes that you are going to have to take a piss. You will find yourself upside down, trapped, and having to pee each and every time. You can’t call for help. You can’t go up or down. And you are going to have to pee.

Retelling assignment

Now the story that goes with this picture must be retold - by Boan, Abbzug, or Polvo - or perhaps Mocha.

Self inflicted torture

I think back to a time around 6 or 7 months ago that I couldn’t run to the end of the block. After a hundred yards my lungs would ach, my chest would burn, and my head would take on a pulse of it’s own, beat red, covered in sweat and my head was throbbing. I remember about 5-6 months ago almost puking at 2 miles. I remember the first time I ran 2.5 miles without stopping. Even after showering I would continue to sweat for another couple hours, face still flush red for several hours after running.

I remember about 2 months ago running 4.5 miles straight for the first time. I couldn’t walk afterwards, my calves were locking up, my thighs twitching and cramping up. I remember on that same 4.5 mile run I actually collapsed to my knees one block from my house. I recall the first time I ran 5.5 miles straight at 5:30 am. The earliest I’d ever been awake during the work week and the furthest I’ve ever run in my life. I remember when I got to work at 8am I could hardly walk. Walking to get coffee was next to impossible.

Still only about 2 months ago I recall the first time I ran 6.4 miles straight without stopping. This past weekend I ran the furthest I’d ever run at 9.2 miles – and it hurt. At mile 8 I was having troubles lifting my legs to take the next step in my run, my hips were sore and it started to feel as if I was running on bone – I could feel every pounding step, needles on the sides of my ankles, knives in my hips, and little monsters with sharp teeth biting my calves.

So this past Sunday I partook in my first ever run / race competition. The Austin Half-Marathon, a grueling hill-packed 13.1 miles – nearly 4 miles, or 43% longer than I’d ever run before – and I’d never run on hills like this before. It was 6:45 AM and around 45 degrees outside when I took off my long sleeve warm-up shirt, and took my place among nearly 11,000 other runners.

After about mile 3 I was sort of wondering why I got myself into this. I just didn’t feel that into it for some reason, and realized I had a long long way to go. I grabbed my first on-the-go cup of water at around mile 4 which was an experience as well. I’d never tried to drink water while running and ended up with the majority of it up my nose and down the front of my shirt.

The torturous hills kicked in at around mile 7 – it was as if running on a treadmill for the first 7 miles then switching it up to a stair master, or literally running up 10 flights of stairs, and then hopping back onto the treadmill. It was absolute murder – but I kept going.

I recall at one point I asked another runner where we were at? He told me we were on mile 10 – and I got a huge lift knowing that I only had 3 miles to go. Then about a half mile later I asked some other people, not sure why, but I asked them – “are we approaching mile 11?” and they literally laughed – “we’re just now coming up on mile 8" they scoffed. Needless to say that deflated me a lot – I now had wrap my mind around having another 5 miles to go.

After mile 8 it was as if I had two miniature people on my shoulders. Just like you recall in the cartoons. On one shoulder a devil telling me to stop, rest, go ahead and stretch, and the other voice on the other shoulder saying – no chance, keep going, no one else is stopping, this is what you've trained for. This internal conversation would only get louder and louder over the last 5 miles – the urge to stop growing and growing with each pounding step. Each hill I would get over would just bring the next hill into focus. I could see people to my right and my left falling apart, but I could also see people twice my age running faster and stronger than I was – and the voices in my head telling me to stop, and pointing out the amount of pain I was in – but I kept going.

Along the route people would read your name on your bib and yell your name, tell you to keep going, etc., which was a big lift. I saw my family at mile 5 which also gave me a boost.

As the final mile came into focus the home stretch started on 10th avenue, and went to 9th, then 8th … etc., acting as a visual countdown to the end of the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. At around 6th avenue or so I heard my wife and kids screaming my name, my son propped up on my wife’s shoulder smiling ear to ear – eyes fixed on me – and all of a sudden the pain was gone – the needles were removed, the monsters stopped biting, the negative voice on one shoulder vanished – and I was able to hit the gas for one last 50 yard sprint.

When I crossed the finish line I could have collapsed. My legs were wobbly and the needles returned to my ankles, and my legs started to seize up – it felt as if someone had chopped off my feet and I was walking on my bare leg bones - the acid build up in my legs was severe. I grabbed my finisher’s medal, some water, a banana, etc., and found a quite secluded place to stretch. When I bent over to touch my toes, head down, I closed my eyes, and I almost started to cry. It was such an emotional experience, a relief, an accomplishment. I didn’t stop once – although I wanted to stop after about mile 5 and every step thereafter.

I ended up finishing in 612th place out of 10,989 finishers or in the 95th percentile; my pace was at 8:03 minute miles for 13.1 miles for a total time of 1:45:30. I didn’t stop once. I got faster each mile with my fastest mile being at Mile 10. On a treadmill, if you’re interested, an 8 minute pace would be a setting of 7.5 – without any incline – for 1 hour and 45 minutes straight - however there was most certainly some extreme inclines and declines in this race.

Some interesting tid-bits. I got beat by a 70 yr old male, and a 55 yr old female – but I also beat some kids in their teens and early 20’s. I was the fastest “Allen” on the course, out of 19 others. The next closest “Allen” was 6 minutes behind me. I was the fastest “Dustin” on the course out of 9 other “Dustin’s”. The next closest “Dustin” was a full 20 minutes behind me – and he was 23 years old.

Baby I'm amazed...........

I had this dream the other night. I was taking some courses at a college somewhere. The way we got from classroom to classroom was to ride in an old beat up cabin cruiser boat that had no upper deck or motor. It was really just a shell of a boat. The interesting thing was the boat simply floated along about two feet off the ground. It would move along the walkways with all of us students onboard…. stopping and starting as students would get off and on.

I was riding along in the boat and thinking: I would love to show my granddaughter this amazing mode of transportation. But then, I thought, she would probably not be impressed. I am 57 years old and amazed by something that seems to float and automatically function with no one controlling it. She was born and raised in a world of computer images, special effects, iPods, and cell phones. She would probably not think it was that fantastic.

Friday Schmiday

I've already done all the training I can do for the half-marathon and so today and tomorrow are supposed to be filled with rest and relaxation. So I drove to a nice little sub shop during my lunch today, ordered my sandwich, and was going to eat my lunch in my car and listen to a little Jim Rome (http://www.jimrome.com/) (Sports talk) but I turned the key and just heard a little 'click' ' click ' which wasn't a good sign i.e. el battery es no working. That's just awesome!

So I asked two guys who were getting into the car in front of me if they had jumper cables, and could help - "nope, sorry duuuude". Then the gal next to me who was pulling out - "Nope sorry, I just took them out of my car" yeah right! Of course you did I mean who wouldn't make a point of "removing" jumper cables from their car. Then another couple pulled in and quickly said "no, sorry" and wouldn't even make eye contact with me, as if I was was a homeless bum looking for some spare change - why don't you put on some more makeup lady! I wanted to say.

So I sat back in my car, dejected, wondering what Jim Rome was talking about today, watching other people who got in their car and took for granted the fact that their car started "You don't even know!" I wanted to scream. It was also starting to get cold outside, the "Feels Like" meter had dipped into the 30's, and the wind was gusting.

As I hung my head I looked down at my wrist and my eyes fixed on my hemp wristband with the letters "WWJD" on it i.e. "What would Jay Do" so I decided to pull myself together and scope out a hill that I could push my Civic down and roll-start it. There was only a small hill, about a 50 yards away that served as the 'exit ramp' if you will from this particular parking lot onto a 6 lane highway - so there were some risks. Right now I had a dead car in a parking lot, I could end up with a dead car on the freeway. So I looked at again at my wristband and thought, ok here goes nothing.

I proceeded to back out my Civic with the ancient heel-toe push method, cranked the wheel and then started to push it towards the aforementioned exit ramp. All the while people are looking at me from the comforts of their "Running" car and most likely have heat, music, maybe even Jim Rome on the radio I thought? Even one gal I could see through her windshield was saying to herself "oooooo" as in "ooooo - sucks to be him" - and she was right. I made it to the exit ramp, hopped in and popped it, and nothing happened, "click" "click" and it was getting closer and closer to the highway and then I popped it again - and finally it sputtered and started.

So I pulled into my parking garage back at work, turned off the car, and checked to see if it would turn back on. Nope. So in about another 3 hours, I'll have to push start it again.

So much for R&R. TGIF!

A father's guidance...

I recall a time when we were living in a duplex at 3831 Findlay lane in Longmont Colorado. I think I must have been around 6 or 7 years old at the time. It was a relatively small house and there was a bathroom located between the dining room area and living room. I remember one time I used the restroom and whatever 'actions' or 'functions' I carried out in there apparently must have been heard through the thin hollow door.

When I came out my dad told me to turn on the fan next time so that "people can't hear what you're doing in there". To this day, when I go to use the restroom either to go number 1 or number 2 I always turn on the fan.

At lot of kids who grew up without dads missed out on this type of guidance.

Where were you when...

A lot of times I've heard, "I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard that JFK was shot". However some of us are not old enough to have gone through that. However we've all been around long enough to have gone through Sept 11, 2001. I'm just curious if that had the same impact? Personally, I know exactly where I was when I heard - I can see it clearly in my eyes.

I was on my way to work, driving down C470 highway heading towards I-25 right around Quebec / University blvd when the radio station I was listening to reported it. At the time, they weren't quite sure the significance of it.

Family Road Trips to Maine

Growing up, economical family vacations were often defined as a trip to Maine. The 6-8 hour drive in the old Plymouth seemed endless, and Gid was not one to speed. I remember his explanation that other cars just appeared to be whizzing quickly by because they were traveling in the opposite direction. I later figured out that it was also because they were going at least 10 – 15 mph faster than we were. To his credit, Gid always felt the need to provide something educational, so he included activities like a tour of the paper mill in Rumford, Maine. The ultimate destination, though, was a visit to see Grandpa Records sister, Aunt Ida, in Livermore Falls. A visit to see Aunt Ida, who modestly considered herself a “handsome woman” (see photo), was no frills* but always included homemade molasses cookies waiting for us upon our arrival. (* There was no indoor plumbing, but the outhouse was just a few steps up from the kitchen in the attached garage.) The stay at Aunt Ida’s farmhouse was broken up with side trips: visits to the lake and to see Aunt Amy, Ida’s sister, another widow, a retired school teacher who lived in a fancier house (indoor plumbing) in North Leeds. The highlight of the trip was often a visit from Ruth and Jake who had always just returned from one of their many trips to Moosehead Lake. Ruth and Jake were considered a bit odd and talked about with pity because they were unable to reproduce. This was also offered as the explanation for why cousin Ruth had the energy to play with us kids, crawling around in the fort we built under a card table. Most of the time, though, the subject of the conversation (as in all of Aunt Ida’s letters) came around to which relative was feeling “poorly”. I will try to remember this and censor myself as I get older and feeling more poorly….

I'm sure he'll appreciate this...

I will tell this story simply to bump the horrifying Wacko Jacko pic down the blog and below my vision line.

When Ethan was little, about five we were watching TV. We had spent the morning at the beach and now we were showered and sunburned on the couch. Lisa was in the kitchen making dinner. Ethan was intensely scratching his butt. You know, really digging in there.

I could see this in my peripheral vision but ignored it as he was five, and after all it was his ass. Every once in awhile he would pull his hand out and sniff his fingers. We all do it....let's just admit it. But he was still young enough to do this in public and think that deep ass scratching created a magic bubble around him where no one could see in. Much like when I was seven and would pick my nose and eat it under the cover of my other hand so no one was the wiser.

But then he turned to me, holding out the offending hand and said, "Sniff my fingers."

"No."

"Come on, sniff 'em"

"No, you've been scratching your butt."

"I know, they smell like poop, smell 'em."

Ah, to be young again.

The web less traveled....

Last night some of my fellow "Texans" reported seeing what could only be called a "UFO", and now it's the talk of this here town. With all the hype and concern I figured I'd add a link to this "other" blog for which I am also a "contributor" about reporting Alien Abductions. So then my travels took me to http://www.iwasabducted.com/ and found this interesting posting (below), and figured it was worth re-telling.

Brought to you in it's original form;

"...Reported by No Names Sunday, November 18, 2007 at 4:38PM : ... but a lot of things have happened to me since i was a child, i am now 42, i have a v high profile career and lifestyle, but i always knew what i would be doing since i was 14, and i made everyone know that. my job needs no qualifications, neither is it a job where you can reach the highest rank just by working hard for 20 years. my whole life has been determined and steered by the people around me..... who i 've sat next to on a plane, who i've rented a house from, who i've sat next to at a theatre etc . I have also lost count of te amount of times i have moved homes, not because i ever wanted to move, but because with everytime each and everyone of them was because something happened, and never at all by me doing something wrong or from any form of neglegence or bad behavior on my behalf, 1 short example... i am happy in my rented home of 5 months so far, no plans to ever move, love the area, so peaceful....a storm, a heavy storm, a tree falls...my roof is destroyed....i have to move...get it?............i'm babbling....cut to the chase..........both my shoulders still really hurt from 4 weeks ago... the last time something 'happened' to me. i suffer from insomnia to a point where i stay awake till i actually pass out, and i get up when i am no longer tired, i have probably used an alarm clock about 6 times in 20 years..... its 8.07am and i still haven't slept yet, to give you an example.....anyway........during my sleep that time, i dreamt that i wqas being held down (again) and as usual i lashed out fighting and kicking and punching, i dreamt that i had been hung up like an dungeon prisoner on a wall, but this time when i woke up my right shoulder really hurt, and still does to this day...i checked it out and have actually torn a ligament in it...during the 4 hours i slept.....i am never afraid though...also both my clocks lost an hour, i spent most of the day telling people that it must be because of daylight savings etc etc ...which i found out was not for another 2 weeks......another time, same thing...legs being held down.....struggling strugglin....this time i wake up and my legs are aching so bad, they feel like i have just run a marathon, i have also lost count of the amount of times i have woken up completly paralized...that scares me. i also have so many scars on my knuckels that i cant account for... i used to think that maybe i puch the wall in my sleep......babbling again.........i want to be asked questions..... i went to some site and found some page that asked about 50 odd questions on abductions, i could answer 'yes' to all of them apart from one if i remember. but who made up that questionarre?...other abductees?......psycologists?...who?....are there really genuinly other abductees out there, that could help me or ask me questions...there is so so so much more to say, enough for a book, but i really am no writer, and i hate writing, but i dont want to go through this alone anymore, something really isnt right. "

Back in the Day

Back in the 50’s I was seven years old for one entire year. Life was pretty easy for me in Lakeland, Florida. We played sandlot baseball, basketball and football year round regardless of the season. Basketball was at Jimmy’s house because he had the only basketball and hoop in the neighborhood. Football was at the Wilkerson’s because they had a big back yard and their parents would let us play anytime we wanted. Baseball was across the street from our house in Mr. Macdonald's field. (Joe Oswalt always played first base because he had the only first baseman’s mitt.)

When we weren’t playing sports, we had other pastimes that kept us out of trouble. One was the skinny trees. Several of us from the neighborhood would go down to the woods behind the Ryder truck terminal…....a mile or two from our houses. We would walk across the creek, through the field, and down the embankment into the woods. Most of the trees were 20’ to 30’ high and no more than six inches in diameter. We would climb to the top of the trees, hug the trunk like bears and start swaying. Once we got the trees rocking back and forth we would try to jump from tree to tree. Sometimes we made it and sometimes we fell….if you were really good you could change trees and pull someone down at the same time.

Another fun thing was chasing the mosquito fogger. We always had lots of mosquitoes in the spring. So about once a week the mosquito man would drive up and down the streets of the neighborhood. This was always just at sundown. He pulled a small trailer behind his truck. On the trailer was mounted some type of compressor that pumped out a giant cloud of DDT fog or something that would kill mosquitoes. We would all chase the truck pushing, shouting, and disappearing into the fog for blocks at a time.

I don’t remember anyone getting seriously injured or experiencing health problems from any of this stuff. But I moved away when I was 18 and lost track of most of the neighborhood gang.

Unicorn Grandma

Of my many clients I have given some nick-names. Of course, they aren't aware of this fact. It's more like, "Well, I'm off to work. Today I've got Crazy Republican at 10, ambiguously gay veterinarian at 1, The Debater at 2, and Unicorn Grandma at 4:30."
"Unicorn Grandma" is not a unicorn. Hell, she's not even a Grandma. Her name is Sherri, a very attractive, successful medical sales rep in her mid-thirties. Of Sherri's many quirky family members there is one we affectionately call "Unicorn Grandma."
When Sherri's younger sister got married a few years ago her new husband came with some fun accessories. The best of which was a grandmother whom wears a unicorn horn at all times. No, she is not mentally ill. She is of a mental state far superior to illness. She just doesn't give a shit. At some point she decided she liked unicorns and their magical power. She deduced that this power must be held within the beautiful, single, glistening horn atop their heads. She fashioned herself a horn; actually many horns. She owns horns of all sizes, and for all occasions. The more important the event, the larger and more elaborate the horn. For the wedding she wore a tasteful cream, pearl and lace horn affixed to her head with the ever present chin-strap.

Sherri's father was furious, screaming, "I paid $4000 for these photographs, and she's got a fucking horn on her head."

It was all fun and games until Sherri's sister and "Unicorn Grandson" had their first child. One day a package arrived in the mail from Grandma, a onesie, or perhaps booties she was sure. Inside was a tiny baby horn....the first of many. Within her arose a deep rage....calmly she hid the horn in the back of the closet in her bedroom. Later she would lament, "My son is never going to wear a fucking horn on his head!"

Behind Every successful man.....

At a company Christmas party one year the CEO was at the head of the room giving a speech. He told a story of a time when he and his wife were at a gas station getting gas. The CEO said that he pointed to one of the male gas station attendants and said to his wife (something along the lines of) – “see, you could have ended up with him” as if letting her know how lucky she is. She, in turn, told him that had she married that gas station attendant, that he, and not her husband, would have become a CEO one day.

Long Day’s Journey Into Night

I took a half day off of work so we could leave before noon and beat the snow that was predicted to descend on the state later that afternoon. “These weather guys are as full of shit as those hurricane chasers are in Florida”, Vic opined as we drove north in sunny 50 degree weather. The clouds were darker in Castle Rock, the blue sky now gray.
The first snow flakes swirled across 470 just west of the airport. I had never seen so many birds flying in formation before. They blackened the already dark sky. “Canadian”, Vic observed with the same one word assessment he’d made about pale tourists waddling St. Pete Beach.
The 3:45 flight to Tampa was rescheduled to 4:15 then to 4:30. The plane was full, no room for standbys unless at least 2 passengers had signed in online and then decided not to show. 4:35 p.m.: no plane at either gate C49 or C43 where another flight with room for two “non-revs” was scheduled to leave for Orlando at 4:35. Both planes arrived and began boarding at the same time. Decisions, decisions, deal or no deal – two guaranteed seats to Orlando, rent a car, get to Gulfport after midnight – OR take a chance on two no shows to get to Tampa by 10.
Time for me to walk the 200 yards to the Orlando gate that was out of sight of Vic at Tampa gate 49 - but not out of cell phone range. Cold wind blew in through the doors at gates 47 and 45. The line at gate 43 dwindled as the paid passengers boarded the plane. “Last call for Allen and Miller for Orlando flight 706.” This could be the last chance for FL tonight. Grab the cell phone. “Babe, get down here now. They’re closing the doors.”
Vic let me go ahead of him to take the last aisle seat. A few minutes later I saw the back of his gray head 5 rows in front of me in a middle seat. I had scored the better spot, I thought, unaware at that time that the kid sitting next to me would fart most of the way to Orlando. We sat hostage on the tarmac for an hour waiting for our turn to be de-iced. We got into Orlando late then waited a half hour in line for a rental car (that had already been arranged by our “ground crew”: a last minute call to Steph just before takeoff). We got home to Gulfport at 1:30 a.m., and we slept with the bedroom windows open. 