Saturday, September 25, 2004
...and then a nuclear blast cloud mushroomed on the horizon...
...and everyone in the car (me as driver, MPS & BIL, Odo from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine in his Bajoran security uniform and some other character from the Star Trek multi-series whom I didn't recognize in an equally unrecognizable uniform) blurted their version of, "Oh, shit."
That is the dream from which I awoke this morning. As I recall from the dream, those of us in the car were not expecting the nuclear blast. We were all proceeding somewhere benign from an equally benign seminar held in a large auditorium in the Phoenix metroplex sponsored by social workers and featuring the explanation of the contents of a book that was about something having to do with creating some sort of kinder, gentler world by starting in one's home and community. As we drove from the seminar to a place I cannot recall none of us was expecting, nor had reason to expect, that we'd witness the beginning of the nuclear destruction of the United States. I do remember that we were being passed on the streets by impossibly large semis constructed to transport impossibly large objects along normal streets and freeways, all of which were carrying impossibly large parts of military planes: Pieces of fuselage, wings and tail.
This is not to say that the consolidation is going badly. It's going well. Today we should be able to complete packing out. The shed is the only room left to tackle. The house has only a few hanging and bathroom items left to collect, most of which will be thrown away.
Over the last 3 days the The Big Girl has become increasingly ill. It took me a day to figure out that she was suffering from something that wouldn't "go away". I took her into the vet yesterday. She has a serious upper respiratory infection, was severely dehydrated, thus is spending yesterday evening through Sunday morning in their hospital being fed IV fluids, antibiotics and being nursed back to relative health. I say relative because she also exhibits something else curious: Her liver is so enlarged that it has pushed her stomach out of the way. The condition and the cause is a mystery to our very fine veterinarian but is probably unrelated to the respiratory infection expect that the condition no doubt weakened her immune system to the point where she was unable to fight off the agents carrying the infection.
I consider us lucky that The Big Girl's illness happened at this time, as the money from the sale of the house should be just enough to cover the vet bills. Although the sale was negotiated for significantly more than a buck the amount is also significantly less than that which grungiest of houses would bring.
Mom is doing well. The Little Girl is doing well. Although I'm probably running on empty again it's hard for me to tell, as I am keyed so high I don't believe there is an instrument that has the ability to produce the notes I'm playing. I continue to be refreshed by an undercurrent of pure relief over the consolidation.
For those of you who have been wondering about the quality of the final push, it is strong and hardy. The mover's pick up date was pushed to Monday afternoon of next week which was fine with me since I discovered that packing out is happening more slowly with Mom there than I anticipated. We'll be ready. By Thursday we'll be a one home family. Again. Thank the gods.
Time to awaken Mom. I have no idea when I'll have the time to report again before the sale is complete. Assume, please, that no news is good news.
That is the dream from which I awoke this morning. As I recall from the dream, those of us in the car were not expecting the nuclear blast. We were all proceeding somewhere benign from an equally benign seminar held in a large auditorium in the Phoenix metroplex sponsored by social workers and featuring the explanation of the contents of a book that was about something having to do with creating some sort of kinder, gentler world by starting in one's home and community. As we drove from the seminar to a place I cannot recall none of us was expecting, nor had reason to expect, that we'd witness the beginning of the nuclear destruction of the United States. I do remember that we were being passed on the streets by impossibly large semis constructed to transport impossibly large objects along normal streets and freeways, all of which were carrying impossibly large parts of military planes: Pieces of fuselage, wings and tail.
This is not to say that the consolidation is going badly. It's going well. Today we should be able to complete packing out. The shed is the only room left to tackle. The house has only a few hanging and bathroom items left to collect, most of which will be thrown away.
Over the last 3 days the The Big Girl has become increasingly ill. It took me a day to figure out that she was suffering from something that wouldn't "go away". I took her into the vet yesterday. She has a serious upper respiratory infection, was severely dehydrated, thus is spending yesterday evening through Sunday morning in their hospital being fed IV fluids, antibiotics and being nursed back to relative health. I say relative because she also exhibits something else curious: Her liver is so enlarged that it has pushed her stomach out of the way. The condition and the cause is a mystery to our very fine veterinarian but is probably unrelated to the respiratory infection expect that the condition no doubt weakened her immune system to the point where she was unable to fight off the agents carrying the infection.
I consider us lucky that The Big Girl's illness happened at this time, as the money from the sale of the house should be just enough to cover the vet bills. Although the sale was negotiated for significantly more than a buck the amount is also significantly less than that which grungiest of houses would bring.
Mom is doing well. The Little Girl is doing well. Although I'm probably running on empty again it's hard for me to tell, as I am keyed so high I don't believe there is an instrument that has the ability to produce the notes I'm playing. I continue to be refreshed by an undercurrent of pure relief over the consolidation.
For those of you who have been wondering about the quality of the final push, it is strong and hardy. The mover's pick up date was pushed to Monday afternoon of next week which was fine with me since I discovered that packing out is happening more slowly with Mom there than I anticipated. We'll be ready. By Thursday we'll be a one home family. Again. Thank the gods.
Time to awaken Mom. I have no idea when I'll have the time to report again before the sale is complete. Assume, please, that no news is good news.
