Ok, so southern Minnesota didn't get us out of the 30's temperature-wise, but it did my heart (and my attitude) a lot of good. The SPAM museum was actually quite informative (there are 12 varieties of spam, did you know that?) and entertaining, the poolside rooms at the Holiday Inn were comfortable (enough) and the poool warm, but the company was what made the trip. My boys run as a pack with their NeskeMoen compatriots. The five of them span the ages of 6 to 11, none of them in the same grade, but they adore each other and play together incredibly well- never pairing off- the dynamics change throughout the day, but they are always positive. And all five of those boys adore the older Nielsen kids. While we were hanging out before a lovely dinner at Wally's house, I walked through the living room to find all of our kids literally kneeling at 14 year old Pete's feet. He was discoursing on some topic and they were lapping it up. Then they quit being so serious, outfitted themselves with Pete's nerf arsenal and had a battle royale.
I do believe the highlight of the trip for me was when we surprised Pete and Kara on their return from an overnight Speech Team event. You see, our three families have been going to DuNord together for years. And it has been a tradition that whenever we get off of the little shuttle that takes us from our tents over to the main part of camp, we form up a 'bridge' of bodies and cheer everyone off. It can get a bit raucous. So when Jen mentioned that their BUS was due back in the high school parking lot in 15 minutes, it was only natural that we should round up all 13 of us to go pick them up, DuNord style. I loved that when we hustled Ildar into the car he asked what we were doing and when I said, "We are going to completely embarass two high school kids" he was totally game. Didn't need any more info.
So three caroads of us pulled into the lot with a few minutes to spare. Other parents were already waiting in cars, and more drifted in before the bus arrived. As the bus pulled into the lot, the 13 of us piled out of the cars, ran to the door of the bus and formed up our 'bridge'- two rows facing each other, hands in the air, wild screaming- and several parents jumped right out to join us. I like how the Fairmont speech parents roll. The coaches were trying to have give some closing comments to their team, but all eyes were peeled out the windows, trying to figure out just what in the hell was going on. I heard later that when kids were asking, "WHO are those people? Does anyone know them???" Kara denied us, but Pete, after some hesitation, claimed us proudly. Kara only hid her face for a few moments, then decided to make the best of it. The team started piling off, initially a bit cowed, but you could see the smiles growing, see them walking tall, walking proud. And when Pete and Kara came off they did as they should be getting to the end of the line and then joining right in. Good kids, those Nielsons.
I love that all of our kids had absolutely no qualms about making a scene in a random parking lot. Even our exchange students- this had to be one of the more international bridges we have ever formed with representatives from both Russia and Hong Kong. As soon as the whole team got off the bus, all of our kids ran back to the warm cars and jumped in, as if nothing unusual had happened. We then sped back to the Neilson house while Wally and Jen delayed Pete and Kara a bit, so our kids could take up their positions with Nerf weapons on the roof of the garage. On to round two of the welcome party- the attack.
It was no glamorous beach escape, but it did my spirit wonders to be around good pals and have some deep belly laughs over the weekend.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Loving a little satire
This past weekend at our friends' house, Eli stumbled upon a coffee table book of stories from The Onion. He was chortling with laughter. Of course, there are any number of stories that are not so appropriate for an 11 year old, but he spots those early and turns the page. I think. At the library last night we found some MAD magazines. He was lazing on the couch reading yesterday and could not stop giggling. Finally he had to read the story about the Free Amish Fireplace Mantle aloud. This is a topic that has caused us some mirth in the past. He tried to read, but he absolutely dissolved into laughter. He couldn't get more than 2-3 words before the giggles would take over, his eyes tearing up. It was lovely.
Happy 69th birthday to a great pops!
Yesterday was my dad's 69th birthday. And he's looking great. Today I got an email from a friend from my childhood. I had not heard from her since the day we graduated. She recently found me on facebook and wanted to just write and let me know how much time spent at the Sage house when she was growing up meant to her. Apparently we came across as normal. And loving, and accepting, and fun. And it's true- the Sage household was a great place to spend time back in the 70's and 80's. In honor of my dad's big day, I want to just highlight the role he had in creating that space. Mom. This does not diminish your role in anyway. Your turn will come. I have lots of great things to say about you as well.
Here's what I love about my dad: He believed in me 100%. He still does, too! I was a girl growing up in the early stages of Title IX- my first sports experiences were as 'the girl' on boys' teams. Soon enough we got all girls teams (which my mom was sweet enough to volunteer to coach). I was never very good at any of them, decent, passable, but surely not a lot of fun to watch. But he would be at every game, cheering away. Thankfully he was one of the good fans, enthusiastic, but not getting in trouble with the refs or jeering the other team. There were parents in that camp and I was so glad they were not mine. 14 years of basketball games too watch. Wow. That's dedication.
He also was always available to help with homework. I remember getting a little frustrated with his math help when he actually had to take 15-20 minutes to read the chapter before helping me figure things out. Now that my oldest is tackling algebra I understand why you need the little refresher. I mean, I know that stuff, I just don't know it in a place in my brain that is easily accessible. But Rodg always found it. He'd sit with the texts puzzing it out and then translate for me. Even when I was getting testy and frustrated, he'd figure it out, work me through it, and help me get it done. He was an ideal tutor.
Rodg was also willing to teach me other things. I was always fascinated by the things he could churn out in the basement workshop. And I wanted to do it to, only I didn't have the best attention to detail, or follow through. But he'd take me down and lead me through whatever crazy project I had in mind. I remember back when I wanted to make a wooden puzzle for my soon to be spouse. He took me to the woodshop in the basement and on the first cut I nearly took off half a finger. He got a little pale, the forehead started sweating, but then he cracked some joke, got me a bandage and walked me through the rest of the project.
Our weekends and summers were chock full of parent-led adventures. They got us out on bikes, canoes, skies, our feet. We toured the US by van, camping our way through state and national parks. We backpacked in the Beartooth mountains, drove dune buggies and skied in the rockies, sailed through the bahamas, and met up with distant relatives in Switzerland. I was not always the easiest to travel with- sometimes refusing to get out of the car because my book was too good- but they only left me behind twice. But those were mistakes. Or so they say!
Now Rodg does all these things with my own kids. He's been hanging with my boys once a week since the day Eli was born. He and my mom get them out and about, but also spend crucial hours on the ground with them- talking, laughing, playing, loving. What a gift for my family. I'm hoping that his math skills are still accessible in that lovely brain of his, because I think I will need some help helping my boys very soon.
So. There's my little tribute to my lovely fabulous 69 year old pops. I love you dad! You're the best! Thanks for helping create the space in my childhood where I could grow and stretch and dream and be wonderfully happy! And for continuing to do it through all of these years.
Here's what I love about my dad: He believed in me 100%. He still does, too! I was a girl growing up in the early stages of Title IX- my first sports experiences were as 'the girl' on boys' teams. Soon enough we got all girls teams (which my mom was sweet enough to volunteer to coach). I was never very good at any of them, decent, passable, but surely not a lot of fun to watch. But he would be at every game, cheering away. Thankfully he was one of the good fans, enthusiastic, but not getting in trouble with the refs or jeering the other team. There were parents in that camp and I was so glad they were not mine. 14 years of basketball games too watch. Wow. That's dedication.
He also was always available to help with homework. I remember getting a little frustrated with his math help when he actually had to take 15-20 minutes to read the chapter before helping me figure things out. Now that my oldest is tackling algebra I understand why you need the little refresher. I mean, I know that stuff, I just don't know it in a place in my brain that is easily accessible. But Rodg always found it. He'd sit with the texts puzzing it out and then translate for me. Even when I was getting testy and frustrated, he'd figure it out, work me through it, and help me get it done. He was an ideal tutor.
Rodg was also willing to teach me other things. I was always fascinated by the things he could churn out in the basement workshop. And I wanted to do it to, only I didn't have the best attention to detail, or follow through. But he'd take me down and lead me through whatever crazy project I had in mind. I remember back when I wanted to make a wooden puzzle for my soon to be spouse. He took me to the woodshop in the basement and on the first cut I nearly took off half a finger. He got a little pale, the forehead started sweating, but then he cracked some joke, got me a bandage and walked me through the rest of the project.
Our weekends and summers were chock full of parent-led adventures. They got us out on bikes, canoes, skies, our feet. We toured the US by van, camping our way through state and national parks. We backpacked in the Beartooth mountains, drove dune buggies and skied in the rockies, sailed through the bahamas, and met up with distant relatives in Switzerland. I was not always the easiest to travel with- sometimes refusing to get out of the car because my book was too good- but they only left me behind twice. But those were mistakes. Or so they say!
Now Rodg does all these things with my own kids. He's been hanging with my boys once a week since the day Eli was born. He and my mom get them out and about, but also spend crucial hours on the ground with them- talking, laughing, playing, loving. What a gift for my family. I'm hoping that his math skills are still accessible in that lovely brain of his, because I think I will need some help helping my boys very soon.
So. There's my little tribute to my lovely fabulous 69 year old pops. I love you dad! You're the best! Thanks for helping create the space in my childhood where I could grow and stretch and dream and be wonderfully happy! And for continuing to do it through all of these years.
Friday, March 25, 2011
A funny little Max story
Earlier this week, my boys spent the night at their grandparents with their cousins from Prior Lake. The next day the plan was for me to collect my 3 year old nephew Max and then meet the pack at Como Zoo for an outing. I was lucky enough to get Max a few hours before the zoo roundevouz so I got some one-on-one Max time. This is hard to come by. Usually my Max time has to be shared with my boys, or my parents, or his dads, and the kid has NO time for me. I am so clearly second or third or fourth fiddle.
But Wednesday morning he was mine. We went up to the boys room and took all of their toys down from the baskets on the bookshelves. I was planning to combine some good sorting/organizing time with my Max watching stint. Although organizing anything as Max moves through the toys is a challenge. At one point I was de-tangling a bunch of Theo's necklaces and one caught Max's eye. It had a glass pendant on it with a small scorpion inside the glass. We had a long talk about if the scorpion was dead or fake- Max had quite a few scientific theories about how you could tell. And then he looked up at me with excitement in his eyes and said, "I know another place where you can find bugs in glass! In your lights! Come on! I'll show you!" He then took me on a tour of our overhead light fixtures. He pointed to the one in the hallway and said, "This one has lots!" then dramatically flipped on the light for the big reveal. Sure enough. Lots of dead flies. Then on to the light on the landing. "Only two here!" Then the flip and the reveal...and so on around the house. He's apparently been keeping a running total of our bug 'collection' on his weekly visits to our house. At one point during the tour he said over his shoulder, kind of conspiratorially, "You know, Grandma Jean does say that there are ways to clean these out."
But Wednesday morning he was mine. We went up to the boys room and took all of their toys down from the baskets on the bookshelves. I was planning to combine some good sorting/organizing time with my Max watching stint. Although organizing anything as Max moves through the toys is a challenge. At one point I was de-tangling a bunch of Theo's necklaces and one caught Max's eye. It had a glass pendant on it with a small scorpion inside the glass. We had a long talk about if the scorpion was dead or fake- Max had quite a few scientific theories about how you could tell. And then he looked up at me with excitement in his eyes and said, "I know another place where you can find bugs in glass! In your lights! Come on! I'll show you!" He then took me on a tour of our overhead light fixtures. He pointed to the one in the hallway and said, "This one has lots!" then dramatically flipped on the light for the big reveal. Sure enough. Lots of dead flies. Then on to the light on the landing. "Only two here!" Then the flip and the reveal...and so on around the house. He's apparently been keeping a running total of our bug 'collection' on his weekly visits to our house. At one point during the tour he said over his shoulder, kind of conspiratorially, "You know, Grandma Jean does say that there are ways to clean these out."
Spring Break '11
This year we decided to have a quiet spring break at home. The week started with some promise with temps around 50. I got each boy out on their bike for a lap around the 'hood as I ran. But it wasn't warm. We were fooling ourselves. The wind was raw and their hands were freezing. And then it started to rain. And then the snow. And it's been real hard watching so many friends and relatives bail out to warmer climates. So we had to do something. Hence our soon to happen Spring Break '11 trip to the south. We leave soon from departure gate Brimhall with the NeskeMoens and head directly south to a spring break mecca: The SPAM museum in Austin. Minnesota. Not Texas. The website promises meetings with SPAMbassadors, free samples, and interactive museum exhibits where you can try your hand at packing SPAM. Can't wait! The free samples may even lure me away from 20 years of vegetarianism. I mean, my only fond childhood meat memories are of boxcars- those campfire delights were you take a slab of SPAM, sprinkle it with brown sugar, throw on a pineapple ring, wrap it in tinfoil, and throw it into the coals. Loved those.
After SPAMville, we'll head west, with perhaps a stop at the Jolly Green Giant statue in Blue Earth and then on to poolside rooms at the Holiday Inn in Fairmont, where some good pals reside. Not in the Holiday Inn. In Fairmont. They promise to join us poolside with coolers and games and some good laughs. I'm hoping I can find myself one of those styrofoam can holder things and my flipflops before we go so I really feel like I'm on vacation. We splurged and are spending two whole nights in the hotel, thus maximizing our exposure to chlorine.
Throw in free kids meals at the attached GreenMill, and we've just about hit vacation paradise for Eli. Noodles, swimming with friends, and a promised epic nerf gun battle back at the home of our Fairmont friends. I dare say that my boys are just as excited for this little weekend getaway as they were for our spring break trip to Peru last year. I'm not kidding.
After SPAMville, we'll head west, with perhaps a stop at the Jolly Green Giant statue in Blue Earth and then on to poolside rooms at the Holiday Inn in Fairmont, where some good pals reside. Not in the Holiday Inn. In Fairmont. They promise to join us poolside with coolers and games and some good laughs. I'm hoping I can find myself one of those styrofoam can holder things and my flipflops before we go so I really feel like I'm on vacation. We splurged and are spending two whole nights in the hotel, thus maximizing our exposure to chlorine.
Throw in free kids meals at the attached GreenMill, and we've just about hit vacation paradise for Eli. Noodles, swimming with friends, and a promised epic nerf gun battle back at the home of our Fairmont friends. I dare say that my boys are just as excited for this little weekend getaway as they were for our spring break trip to Peru last year. I'm not kidding.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Summer is shaping up
A friend mentioned the other day that she felt like she needed the help of an air traffic controller in order to make her family's summer plans. I agree. Once you start trying to match up with several different families, who are all coordinating with 6 other familes, who need to allign their trips with the waxing of the moon, it gets complicated. But I think we've got the backbone figured out here. As I looked over the scribbled calendar, I realized that we have a lot of little camping trips planned. But they all have their own unique style.
We'll be hitting the southwestern part of the state on our annual tour de state parks with pals Leone-Gettens. We are hoping to make reservations to stay in both a tipi and a covered wagon. Who knew MN state parks could get so wild? (Ok- the covered wagon is in South Dakota).
Our second camping trip will bring us up across the border into Canada, to a little A-frame cabin on an island that can only be reached by boat. We do stay in a cabin, but the lack of electricity, running water, or any hope of finding a roaming cell phone signal, qualify it as camping in my book.
We will then trade Lake Namakon for the Namakagon River- canoing for 3-4 days down it's crystal waters with pals from the boys' school.
The summer will be rounded out by the annual pilgrimage to DuNord where we will move back into the trusty 'cabin tents' for our ninth summer of sharing a week with old pals, family, and gigantic wolf spiders.
Eli also gets to jet off to Bryce and Zion National Parks with his grandparents, and the boys are once again returning to Camp St. Croix for a week.
So tipis, covered wagons, cabins via motorboat, tenting via canoe, our trusty faux cabin/glorified tent on the lip of the BWCA- all hopefully separated by trips to berry patches, afternoon floats in the highland pool, and plenty of time in the back hammock reading great books- the summer of 2011 is shaping right up.
We'll be hitting the southwestern part of the state on our annual tour de state parks with pals Leone-Gettens. We are hoping to make reservations to stay in both a tipi and a covered wagon. Who knew MN state parks could get so wild? (Ok- the covered wagon is in South Dakota).
Our second camping trip will bring us up across the border into Canada, to a little A-frame cabin on an island that can only be reached by boat. We do stay in a cabin, but the lack of electricity, running water, or any hope of finding a roaming cell phone signal, qualify it as camping in my book.
We will then trade Lake Namakon for the Namakagon River- canoing for 3-4 days down it's crystal waters with pals from the boys' school.
The summer will be rounded out by the annual pilgrimage to DuNord where we will move back into the trusty 'cabin tents' for our ninth summer of sharing a week with old pals, family, and gigantic wolf spiders.
Eli also gets to jet off to Bryce and Zion National Parks with his grandparents, and the boys are once again returning to Camp St. Croix for a week.
So tipis, covered wagons, cabins via motorboat, tenting via canoe, our trusty faux cabin/glorified tent on the lip of the BWCA- all hopefully separated by trips to berry patches, afternoon floats in the highland pool, and plenty of time in the back hammock reading great books- the summer of 2011 is shaping right up.
Mr. Vocab
Eli has put the writing of his novel on the back burner, in favor of comic book reading, model painting, and taunting his younger brother, but his penchant for using just the right word for every situation has not weakened. I just found out from a friend that he answered the phone this morning while I was gone and assured her that I would be home 'within a span of 30 minutes'. And the other night at dinner, while we were working our way through a pizza, I cut off the tip of one of the pie shaped pieces. Later, Jon asked if anyone wanted the piece that mom had 'stunted'. Eli said, "I'm not eating that truncated thing." Me either.
I challenge you to a jig-off
That's what Theo did the other night. I had never heard of such a thing. But he clearly had. Knew all the rules. One person challenges the other, if they accept, the music is started up and the last person to keep moving their feet (rather wildly if you are Theo) is the victor. So I accepted his challenge. He went over to the speakers and queued up some Black Eyed Peas and off we went. I made sure that the first thing I did was jig over to the living room curtains and shut them. I have a student living next door and I don't want any tales told in school. I lasted for 3 or 4 songs, but between my own energetic jigging, and my laughter at Theo's wild dancing, I had to throw in the towel first. He was a good winner. He let me rest for a while. Then went to get his sash on (see below), bowed before me in my chair, and asked, "May I have this dance?" We took a victory lap around the room. I can't wait to be challenged again some evening soon.
May I have this dance?
Theo has a new habit. He takes a scarf from the front entryway, ties it around himself like some sort of fancy sash, then hunts me down wherever I might be in the house, He sidles up, takes a low bow, extending one arm, and asks, "May I have this dance?" in a slightly swarthy accent. Melts my heart each time. Sometimes I accept and do a little number with him, other times I just grin and he spins off, dancing by himself. There is usually not any music on- who knows what is playing in his head. But I like it, and I hope this song doesn't end anytime soon.
Just a little bit miraculous
It amazes me each and every spring how good it feels when we hit daylight savings and all of the sudden the sun is out until after the dinner dishes are washed and put away. The neighbor kids have all emerged from their respective caves and the posse runs free once again. There is no way I can pass by the window upstairs, catch a glimpse of litle old Meredith in the back yard, holding her own against the pack of 8 year old boys wielding wooden weapons, and not smile. She's out there in a bright blue jacket, crazy striped tights tucked into her snow boots, blond hair flying, and I think, this is what we have been missing all winter- color. And smells too. Now that things are starting to thaw a bit the winter's habbit of tossing the rabbit litter box in the garden instead of the compost bin that was buried under 6 feet of snow is proving to be, perhaps, a mistake. Unless the smell that is completely rendolent of a horse stall is something you favor. But really, I don't care- it's a smell, proving that we are once again winning the war against ice and dark and cold.
I've lived in a climate that doesn't change all year, and there was something great about the fact that you could go for a swim in the ocean any old day, and the sun always rose at 6 and always went down by 6:30, and everything was just so dependable, but it also lulled us into complacency. Visitors from up north would come to our little carribean island home and gush about the sun, the sky, the palms, that blue blue ocean, and we'd say yep, it's hot, isn't it? Here's some more sunblock and careful why don't you move back here into the shade with us?
I'm a northerner to my core- and not a bitter one either. I bike from March til November, then trade in my bike happily for my skies, getting out there in all temps as long as there is a bit of snow on the ground. But when it melts, and the sun comes out stronger, longer, I'm the first one to cheer. And it is that change, that joy that comes with the warmth of the sun, that keeps me here.
I mean, if I lived somewhere that didn't experience a freeze/thaw cycle, I wouldn't have felt such wonder and excitement at the site of a swarm of ants, coming up between the cracks in the sidewalk in front of the Y today. Ants! It's only 32 today and we still have 3 feet drifts of snow out front, but ants! Yeehaw! I bent down to check out their frantic excitement- and to be truthful, they looked to be in a panic to get back underground- like they had mistakenly come out too early- but there they were, causing me to crouch and watch and smile. Until someone came up behind me and wondered what in the hell I was doing crouching on the sidewalk in front of the Y, but let them wonder- the ants are out!
So even though the view from my window right now is of dirty icy snow piles that promise to linger a while longer, and the wind still has a sharp edge, I can't help smiling. It's happened again. Winter has been vanquished. And it feels just a little bit miraculous.
I've lived in a climate that doesn't change all year, and there was something great about the fact that you could go for a swim in the ocean any old day, and the sun always rose at 6 and always went down by 6:30, and everything was just so dependable, but it also lulled us into complacency. Visitors from up north would come to our little carribean island home and gush about the sun, the sky, the palms, that blue blue ocean, and we'd say yep, it's hot, isn't it? Here's some more sunblock and careful why don't you move back here into the shade with us?
I'm a northerner to my core- and not a bitter one either. I bike from March til November, then trade in my bike happily for my skies, getting out there in all temps as long as there is a bit of snow on the ground. But when it melts, and the sun comes out stronger, longer, I'm the first one to cheer. And it is that change, that joy that comes with the warmth of the sun, that keeps me here.
I mean, if I lived somewhere that didn't experience a freeze/thaw cycle, I wouldn't have felt such wonder and excitement at the site of a swarm of ants, coming up between the cracks in the sidewalk in front of the Y today. Ants! It's only 32 today and we still have 3 feet drifts of snow out front, but ants! Yeehaw! I bent down to check out their frantic excitement- and to be truthful, they looked to be in a panic to get back underground- like they had mistakenly come out too early- but there they were, causing me to crouch and watch and smile. Until someone came up behind me and wondered what in the hell I was doing crouching on the sidewalk in front of the Y, but let them wonder- the ants are out!
So even though the view from my window right now is of dirty icy snow piles that promise to linger a while longer, and the wind still has a sharp edge, I can't help smiling. It's happened again. Winter has been vanquished. And it feels just a little bit miraculous.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Dangerous squirrel underground active once again
A couple years ago I went on a bike ride and experienced what I think had to be a united attack by a highly organized squirrel underground military force. Only they work overhead. I was pelted with about 10 acorns in a row as I biked under a canopy of oaks. I know you are thinking that acorns grow on oaks and do fall off. It's nature. But these things were pelted. It was more than gravity. My family does not believe me. And they will be woefully underprepared when the squirrels take over.
I must admit that even I have been getting complacent lately. Forgetting about the dangerous squirrel operatives lurking all around me. Until today. I was out for a ski with Becky D at Lebanon Hills and we were passing through a lovely pine forest when a huge chunk of wet snow landed smack in the middle of my head. I mean it was so big and heavy I think my spine got compressed a few inches and I'm now about 5'7". It could not have been a more direct hit. Becky and I both nearly died laughing, until I came to realize that this was no accident. It was a warning! The squirrels are back in action, organizing, plotting, carrying out surprise attacks. Ok, you might be thinking, I was in a pine forest a few days after a big snow storm and there's a serious thaw happening right now. But how do explain that we didn't see any other snow chunks fall the rest of our ski? Anywhere. Except for the one that konked me on the head.
You have been warned.
I must admit that even I have been getting complacent lately. Forgetting about the dangerous squirrel operatives lurking all around me. Until today. I was out for a ski with Becky D at Lebanon Hills and we were passing through a lovely pine forest when a huge chunk of wet snow landed smack in the middle of my head. I mean it was so big and heavy I think my spine got compressed a few inches and I'm now about 5'7". It could not have been a more direct hit. Becky and I both nearly died laughing, until I came to realize that this was no accident. It was a warning! The squirrels are back in action, organizing, plotting, carrying out surprise attacks. Ok, you might be thinking, I was in a pine forest a few days after a big snow storm and there's a serious thaw happening right now. But how do explain that we didn't see any other snow chunks fall the rest of our ski? Anywhere. Except for the one that konked me on the head.
You have been warned.
Technology
We have been limping along the information super highway with a real slow irritating computer lately. It's like a bike that is stuck in low gear and you can never get it going at any kind of decent speed. We finally broke down and bought a new one, and it is real nice. But before this entered our house, we were using the computer less and less, just because it was so frustrating. And in the middle of this, we told Ildar our tale of fever woe (see below) from our days in the Peace Corps. And I got to thinking about those two years back in the mid-nineties. Granted, we were in the Carribean, so not so far away as Borneo or something like that, but we lived without TV, a phone that could make international calls (and for one year without a phone of any sort) or a computer. This was right around the time that email and the internet were being introduced at the household level, so it's not like we were used to it and having to do without, we were just without. Our news came from the BBC radio programs we could find, and letters from home. Today it seems absolutely crazy that you could be anywhere in the world and still have only letters as a form of communication with home. Not to mention just communication between Jon and I as we both went about our business on the island. There were no cell phones or texting or any such thing. All we had to rely on was the market lady where we both stopped for fruits and veggies before jumping on the bus home. It was often that I'd stop by and be about to grab a few grapefruit or something and she would say, "No sweetie, no need, your husband just bought a handful of those about an hour ago." She would then go on to tell me that he did not get any onions, and it had been awhile since either of us had bought any of those, we probably needed some. Texting shmexting. Not needed when you have the market lady watching over you.
Fever stories
This household has gone through quite a bout of sickness over the last month. I was down and out for over a week, Jon has been battling various viral ickiness, and Ildar has been hit with every nasty thing that floats around a Minnesota winter. The other night at dinner Ildar was not feeling so hot. Well, actually he was too hot and that was the problem. He asked me how long my illness lasted and I refused to tell him, but did say that once I felt a little better I was amazed at how great a little better felt. He was having none of that. So we started to tell him tales of past illnesses to try to put the current health picture in better light. I think the story that tops all the rest is our dengue fever tale from our Peace Corps days in the Eastern Carribean. Or the Antilles. I alwas thought that sounded a little more exotic. Whatever you call it, it was a malaria free zone, but did have a different, less severe, mosquito born illness that was to be dreaded. Dengue. There are two kinds. The first and less serious knocks you out for a month or so, but then is gone and you supposedly suffer no long term health effects, although I have my doubts. The second is called Hemorragic Dengue Fever or something like that and it can kill you. By causing your organs to fail one after the other. From my understanding, both exist down in the carribean, but the first is more common.
Jon and I both ran into mosquitoes who introduced us to the first variety. And it was awful. I went down first, with a serious fever and these body aches that made all of your joints hurt horribly. Especially your eyes. Now, you may not have known your eyes were joints, and I don't know if they technically qualify, but they do move and every movement you made with them during the dengue caused you to want to cry. So no quick looks to the left or right. I mean even the little movement it takes to read a page of a novel could move me to tears. So a person in the throes of Dengue can't do much but lay still and stare straight ahead. Under a mosquito net- because you get paranoid as well and I got real nervous everytime I heard the dreaded buzzing. Once Jon joined me in fever hell, things got interesting. We were both kind of halluncinating (how do you kind of hallucinate? I'm not sure, but to this day I am hoping that those cockroaches I saw in our kitchen during one fever-y night were a hallucination, not the real thing. I mean, I know that we had a cockroach problem in that house, but I mean, that night there were millions) and generally not doing more than sitting and staring in front of us. Luckily a friend took pity and would stop by daily to cook us a little something and do some dishes. Until he was hit by dengue as well.
After a couple weeks, I started to feel better and one day I went back to work. Only, after being there for a couple hours I broke out in this horrid rash on my hands and feet. At first I tried to grin and bear it, but soon it was driving me nuts. I mentioned it to a co-worker and she said, "Ahhhh, stage two of the dengue." Stage two? She suggested I head right home and said to take showers whenever the water was running, otherwise to keep buckets of water around and soak my hands and feet in those whenever possible. So I did. Shower a lot. I was showering through about day three of manic itchiness while Jon was still laying listlessly and staring ahead, trying not to move his eyes when I spotted a gigantic spider. Gigantic. Right above me on the ceiling of the shower. I mean, we had seen some spiders during our stay, but this thing was nuts. Or, I was still halucinating. But sure enough, after I screamed and Jon ran in (looking straight ahead) he saw it too! So it was real. Jon went for a broom and started swiping at it, but to our horror we found out it could jump. Far. And towards me in the shower. It was an awful 2-5 minutes after that as we screamed and batted at the spider, me naked and itching, Jon trying not to move his eyes, and the spider making heruclean jumps around our apartment. I don't really remember how it ended, but I think we were not victorious. I think it crawled into some dark corner and caused us more paranoia until we moved out of that place.
It was soon after that when my itching started to diminish and Jon's began. The dengue was sweeping through the Peace Corps volunteers by this time and I found that no one had any pity for your rash stories until they hit that stage. Whenever anyone entered stage two, word would spread. Richard's got the rash....Beth started itching last night....Joyce can't stop scratching... calls would come in from around the island at all hours of the day or night. Because once they had it, they wanted sympathy and remedies and promises that it would end. And it did. But it is not forgotten.
I think our tale roused Ildar out of his stupor for a little while- we even got a few chuckles as he imagined us cowering and swatting at the giant jumping spider. And the next morning he woke up feeling just a little better, and you know what? He was amazed at how much just a little better can feel.
Jon and I both ran into mosquitoes who introduced us to the first variety. And it was awful. I went down first, with a serious fever and these body aches that made all of your joints hurt horribly. Especially your eyes. Now, you may not have known your eyes were joints, and I don't know if they technically qualify, but they do move and every movement you made with them during the dengue caused you to want to cry. So no quick looks to the left or right. I mean even the little movement it takes to read a page of a novel could move me to tears. So a person in the throes of Dengue can't do much but lay still and stare straight ahead. Under a mosquito net- because you get paranoid as well and I got real nervous everytime I heard the dreaded buzzing. Once Jon joined me in fever hell, things got interesting. We were both kind of halluncinating (how do you kind of hallucinate? I'm not sure, but to this day I am hoping that those cockroaches I saw in our kitchen during one fever-y night were a hallucination, not the real thing. I mean, I know that we had a cockroach problem in that house, but I mean, that night there were millions) and generally not doing more than sitting and staring in front of us. Luckily a friend took pity and would stop by daily to cook us a little something and do some dishes. Until he was hit by dengue as well.
After a couple weeks, I started to feel better and one day I went back to work. Only, after being there for a couple hours I broke out in this horrid rash on my hands and feet. At first I tried to grin and bear it, but soon it was driving me nuts. I mentioned it to a co-worker and she said, "Ahhhh, stage two of the dengue." Stage two? She suggested I head right home and said to take showers whenever the water was running, otherwise to keep buckets of water around and soak my hands and feet in those whenever possible. So I did. Shower a lot. I was showering through about day three of manic itchiness while Jon was still laying listlessly and staring ahead, trying not to move his eyes when I spotted a gigantic spider. Gigantic. Right above me on the ceiling of the shower. I mean, we had seen some spiders during our stay, but this thing was nuts. Or, I was still halucinating. But sure enough, after I screamed and Jon ran in (looking straight ahead) he saw it too! So it was real. Jon went for a broom and started swiping at it, but to our horror we found out it could jump. Far. And towards me in the shower. It was an awful 2-5 minutes after that as we screamed and batted at the spider, me naked and itching, Jon trying not to move his eyes, and the spider making heruclean jumps around our apartment. I don't really remember how it ended, but I think we were not victorious. I think it crawled into some dark corner and caused us more paranoia until we moved out of that place.
It was soon after that when my itching started to diminish and Jon's began. The dengue was sweeping through the Peace Corps volunteers by this time and I found that no one had any pity for your rash stories until they hit that stage. Whenever anyone entered stage two, word would spread. Richard's got the rash....Beth started itching last night....Joyce can't stop scratching... calls would come in from around the island at all hours of the day or night. Because once they had it, they wanted sympathy and remedies and promises that it would end. And it did. But it is not forgotten.
I think our tale roused Ildar out of his stupor for a little while- we even got a few chuckles as he imagined us cowering and swatting at the giant jumping spider. And the next morning he woke up feeling just a little better, and you know what? He was amazed at how much just a little better can feel.
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