Life of Wry

We had dinner tonight at Rick’s wonderful little compound in the foothills–the Flying Fish Mine. I’m sure I’ve heard the story, but I’ve forgotten how it got its name (way, way back when).  In any case, it’s a very sweet, peaceful place among the pines.

Always good to get together with our hiking buddies (minus a few for one reason or another), especially during election season (isn’t it always). Lots of ground covered and lots of political prognosticating. More than fish flew tonight.

If Jerry Brown enters the race for President, you can thank/blame us…. or at least trace it back to predictions proffered over a couple bottles of wine at the Flying Fish Mine.

Dinner was lovely…

The company sparkling…

It was a lovely day for a bike ride. Bike riding, while pleasant enough, is not one of my all-time favorite forms of exercise. But it is turning into a pretty good way to get a much needed cardio workout these days… easy on the hip, as it turns out.

But rather than drift into a sorry discourse on hip issues, how ’bout some nice shots from South Davis…

A bit too dappled to appreciate the charm of this two-story shack along the bike path. I thought if I used the toy camera filter, I could hide the city’s very uncharming 8 1/2×11 flyers-in-sheet-protectors–tacky!–that tell people not to trespass. Sigh.. whattaya gonna do.

Along a fork of the Putah–off to the left–super shady, and while it looks deserted, it was actually full of walkers, runners, bike riders and dog walkers for most of the way. Who ARE all these people… I did not recognize a soul.

Not my usual side of town, I guess.

And finally a nice view south out by the Putah Creek winery. Nice spot…

I should take my car to Honda more often…. nice excuse for a bike ride.

The good news is my mom’s back home, after nearly three days in the hospital. The other good news, I guess, is that she’s as testy and feisty as ever.

Welcome home, mom!

Here’s a picture taken a couple years ago at her favorite spot along the Esplanade. Here’s hoping she gets down to the beach for a nice walk soon!

Somebody asked me about our trip today and it was a chance to reflect in a deeper way about some of the more meaningful aspects of our little adventure.

What’s going to stand out most, especially as time goes on, was the opportunity to spend extended, quality time with Peter. Truly. The definition of quality time: all three of us ready, relaxed and happy, with nothing to do but open our eyes, hearts and minds and let a whole bunch of new and exciting adventures wash over us. And talk about them. And talk about everything else under the sun, including lots of physics and way too much Donald Trump. And eat.

Perfect quality time, right?

From start to finish, Peter was a delight. He was a mature, young adult, ready to experience all kinds of new things, and perfectly happy to be sharing them all with us. In fact, I think he actually enjoyed us. Not a single obnoxious teenage moment. He was a little hard to get up some mornings, and once he threw up all over a shirt I was going to wear, but aside from that, he was extremely fun to be with. He totally, totally rose to the occasion.

Not that it’s a significant measure of adulthood, but he drank coffee with me in the mornings (with cream and sugar). On our last night in Paris, he had his first beer (at least the first that he’ll admit to). He had clear ideas of what he wanted to do and asserted them. He wanted to step out on Kjeragbolten in Norway, he wanted to go to the watch museum in Geneva, he wanted to see a Michaelangelo in the Louvre. Just a few examples, but he had no trouble making his wishes known. No trouble stepping up.

One of my greatest satisfactions was exposing him to European travel. He’s been to Italy, but he was so young. He’s traveled to Brazil and Costa Rica, but again, he was so young, and on those trips distracted and/or insulated by friends and family. Europe is so accessible, so familiar–western–yet different enough to be eye opening and expanding. Far enough away to offer new perspectives. Far enough away to feel far away. Now that he’s nearly an adult, with a whole new global curiosity, he’s coming to understand what travel is about; this trip provided him with some context for future travel. Meeting Leslie and Svein’s smart and pretty daughters and their very cool boyfriends and hearing about all their easy-peasy-drop-of-a-hat trips around the continent, and seeing other young people in train stations, I think gave him a sense that traveling around Europe was something he could do, too. When I suggested it to him before, he was unenthused. Now the opposite.

That alone made the 45 billion dollars we spent on this trip worth it.

And did I mention he was awesome to hang out with? That I enjoyed [just about] every conversation we had? (I did.) One big bonding fest, I’m tellin’ ya.

We’re back home now, and roles and routines are pretty much what they were before we left, but while it’s not exactly measurable, I think he was changed by the experience. I think he expanded, and learned, a ton.

All I could ever want.

Sooooo…. I’ll be blogging the trip, backfilling, posting lots of pictures. Could take a while. In the meantime, here’s a picture taken on our first full day in Norway…..some fjord outside Stavanger on our way to hike to Preikestolen…. (shot over my shoulder, through the window of a moving vehicle)…

…. a hint of things to come.

Because I can’t help myself… because these guys are just. so. damn. cute….

Unless they received two such gizmos, this is the thing we gave them at one of the many showers held before River’s arrival. It’s a round, padded blanket attached to a pair of padded arches which support dangly, colorful padded items one can bat about.

Peter had such a thing–we called it the Dome of Pleasure. It was a very popular item in the rotation… read: held his attention for great gobs of time. We have a ridiculous amount of video of Peter batting those items around, with a look very similar to River’s (and John’s).

Also in the rotation: the Vibromatic (vibrating chair); the Bouncy Swing; the Wind-Up Swinging Chair; the Barcolounger (a portable crib-like unit with a mobile overhead); and something whose nickname I cannot remember, but Peter sat inside it with a 360-degree table surrounding him full of manipulatable items.

Those were definitely funny days.

*John posted this photo to Facebook a couple days ago on his 30th birthday with this caption:

“A 30-year-old can learn a lot from a 30-day-old…Thanks for the birthday wishes. We’ll be chilling in our “pack n’ play” if you need us!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the state….

Got calls from my brothers Chris and Matt this afternoon.. Mom’s not doing well. SO not well that they determined a trip to the ER was in order.

So, at this moment, that’s where they are. Tests, tests, measurements, assessments and tests. I’m glad for that.

She’s not.

All of this has to do with her need these days for supplemental oxygen, and what happens if she doesn’t get it. In the last two days, two mishaps have occurred with her oxygen line, both resulting in periods of time off the O2. As a result, her O2 levels got way too low. Not good. She’s been in and out of lucidity all day, and very weak.  So Matt made the decision–always a tough one where my mom’s concerned–to call the paramedics.

When she’s in a moment of lucidity she’s feisty and annoyed and is making it clear she does not want to be there. I know, I just heard the exchange she was having with the staff while I was on the phone with her.

Tough customer, my mom.

Did I mention the US Open Tennis Championship began today?  Where she would rather be is at home with a glass of wine, watching the Open and cheering on her guy Djokovic.

As always, our dear, dear friend Betsy is on the case. It is a crazy gift from the gods to have a lifelong family friend who is the head ER nurse at your local hospital. It’s been a tough afternoon, made worse by the distance; so good to have a couple of brothers there AND Betsy.

I grabbed this photo… mom and her acorns, thirteen years ago. It was a weekend celebration of my aunt Ellie’s 70th birthday. It’s amazing, everyone looks very much like they do today, except mom, who’s changed monumentally from the time this picture was taken to now. I do like seeing the fullness and vitality in her expression.

We are standing in front of a tree planted in my grandfather’s honor at Fallen Leaf Lake, next to Lake Tahoe:

Mom, Jay, me, Matty, Chris.

Go mom.

We are still the sick people, in the sick house. We sound like sick people, we’re doing sick people things, but Jim and I did manage to take a walk downtown this morning for breakfast.  I’m mostly on the mend, Jim is still on this side of the sick curve. It was just too beautiful a day to stay inside…. it seemed like a good idea.

And it was.

Stepped out the front door, looked up and saw this!

Fever and dehydration do not mix. Even if you’re a strapping seventeen year old athlete. Even if you think you’re immune to the health vulnerabilities the rest of us mortals deal with. Even if you’re quite used to a certain standard of self abuse in the form of lack of sleep, a random diet, and chronic over exertion.

Dehydration catches up to you.

So that, on top of the deliriousness of your high fever, you may get dizzy, you may get disoriented, you may loose control of your limbs, you may collapse on the floor.

Which is super scary!!!  For you and your parents. Maybe especially your parents.

So tonight was spent in the ER.

About four hours, anyway, in the reasonably quiet wee hours of the Kaiser Vacaville ER. Peter was hooked up to an IV and administered several bags of a rehydrating solution. He also had a chest XRAY and a blood test. They determined he has a mild case of pneumonia on top of the flu. Antibiotics, a very effective fever reducer, and some strong words from the medical staff, made for a very productive visit.

All’s well that ends well.

And we all know a little bit more about the importance of hydrating.

Humans suffer too much.

Here’s the score:

Flight from San Francisco to Stavanger, via Copenhagen:

Kari gets bug. Manifests initially as a seemingly benign, if slightly coy, cough, but which, by Switzerland, 10 days later, at the height of the hiking portion of the trip, fully inhabits her and she is down, hard, for the count. Full on flu with all the trimmings. 

Switzerland, day four, she finally sees a kindly Swiss doctor in the remote, carless Alpian (Alpian?) town of Wengen, gets three Rx’s and life soon turns around. Remainder of trip is at full throttle. 

Fight from Paris to San Francisco, via Copenhagen:

Kari gets another bug. Jim gets a bug. Peter gets a bug. Kari goes down first, with two days, and counting, of nasty flu symptoms. Jim’s ramping up. As of today, Peter’s now down for the count… came home from school with fever, chills, aches, the whole enchilada. 

 

We have now, since, compiled a list of precautions for future flights–because it’s not like you can’t fly–crowd-sourced from our respective online communities:

1. Emergent-C + Airborne + orange juice, whipped into a thick, viscous nutrient-rich cocktail. Consume with relish (not the pickle kind).
2. Have on hand a mini can of Lysol and/or lots of antiseptic wipes to swab down surfaces you will come in contact with on the plane.
3. Also, use those antiseptic gels and wipes to keep hands clean.
4. And wash your hands often and often.
5. Pound those fluids. Fluids, fluids, fluids.
6. Maybe even wear a mask! Why not? Just to show them you’re serious about enjoying your vacation once you’re off this flying germ factory…it’s not about vanity, baby!
7. Get lots of sleep; do not let travel exhaustion weaken your reserves for fighting the inevitable bug exposure. Before, during and after those long journeys. Sleep!
8. Matt even suggested having on hand a broad spectrum antibiotic… just in case.

Because who wants to lose valuable hiking days in the middle of a hiking vacation.

Lost in yesterday’s red-letter moment–the start of Peter’s year at the top of the school-age food chain–was a spontaneous trip down to Santa Cruz with Lorilyn.

Lorilyn’s family’s saga continues as Allen’s 3-year work contract ended in Singapore, Quinn begins yet another new school–this time in Northern California–they are reunited with their sweet doggie Aqua, and they have just found a place to settle into, for at least a year, right here in Sacramento. Long story short, there was a key–a very important key–locked in a safe-box in the Santa Cruz house–that was needed up here in Sacramento, and a trip down to get it was a great vehicle for hours and hours and hours of catching up.

So we did that.

More important than all the crazy details of Lorillyn’s family’s life–which they manage with amazing creativity and grace–is the reconnection with a cherished friend.

If life is about family, friends, community, love, sharing, giving….   I feel blessed.

The work of the day was about 1) getting that key; and 2) hauling as many boxes back to Sacramento as would fit in a Toyota Highlander… and still have room for Aqua dog. We built a dog cave:

She was sad to miss a romp on the beach, and sad with limited attention… note very sad face… but satisfied, I think, with her temporary digs…

Next time, Aqua.