A Utah Family Travel Writer's Adventures with Altitude
*Because my mother-in-law took Hadley for the weekend…
*Because Jamie and I were supposed to have a fun and relaxing time in the mountains…
*Because I exploited Jeek on his birthday and he cursed me….
I HAVE BRONCHITIS!
P.S. Is this what my mentor Earl Hickey (on NBC’s My Name is Earl) meant by KARMA?????
Special thanks to Jeek for being such a good sport about his birthday “celebrations.” Well, kind of. Does his rebuttal, “As for revenge, I have a few things in mind…you better watch your back, Amber” sound rather bitter to you? Come to think of it, I thought I spotted a sniper atop my neighbor’s roof today. Hmmmm….
My illness last week passed without much incident except for a brutal cough. Last night, I was hacking so badly I raced to the toilet in fear I would lose my dinner. Sympathetic Haddie followed me. I was so touched by her sensitivity until she pushed me out of the way to see what I’d hacked up. She’s a sick, sick child. We’re off to the doc today (for me, not my warped little Hurricane!)
Finally, the results are in for Ralphie’s hot leathah walls in Extreme Makeover: Den Edition. We still need to load the books back on the shelf but you get the idea. And yes, that stupid bobble head in the upper right-hand corner was the first to be moved back in. And yes again, I did intentionally cut it out of the picture. When we first hung Jamie’s framed baseball cards, I made the comment, “They don’t really match the red wall!” He-who-is-obsessively-protective-about-his-collection retorted, “Of COURSE they do. They’re the Red Sox.” Baaaaad.
Any feedback on the before-and-after shots? (Or rather, the after-and-before shots due to the way the dumb system uploaded them!) Note: I am not responsible for the hurricane that hit the room prior to its makeover. Remember, it is 1 of 2 rooms of which Jamie is in charge. You don’t even wanna see his garage…..
Today’s blog is in his own words, relaying a mishap he had while on the job (he somehow rose above his pink elephant traumas to become a chemical engineer). All comments/well-wishers from yesterday and today will be forwarded to him as part of his birthday present (yep, I’m too cheap to buy him something).
“I was working in Newark, NJ in a beautiful industrial area. If you aren’t in the stolen-car market and didn’t know, Newark is the auto-theft capital of the United States, a fact that local residents hold in high esteem.
(editor’s note: boring but critically important Jeek engineer talk in this paragraph)
Part of the day’s task was to test storage tanks for steel thickness, corrosion, check for leaks, etc. The tank in question was situated in a ‘tank farm’, where about fifteen 20,000 gallons tanks full of a few different sorts of hazardous materials are found. Surrounding all tank farms is a concrete berm that prevents a rupture from draining into the storm sewers. There are always minor leaks and every now and then spills in this bermed area, so there are typically nasty chemicals on the ground, pumps and pipes, etc. There is usually a sump area in the tank farm so that in the event of a spill or a rain event, any built-up material in the tank farm can be pumped out to a tank truck or the treatment system.
(editor’s note: you made it. Keep reading)
Well, I was carrying an instrument called a Photo Ionization detector that can measure air contaminants that is used to verify it was safe to enter an empty tank and test it (the instrument in question costs about $10,000). Typical to NJ weather, it was raining and there were a few inches of liquid built up in the tank farm. I entered the tank farm to go do my readings and all of a sudden I stepped in the sump and fell flat on my stomach in this chemical rain mixture. Because there was a sheen of an oily substance on the water I failed to see where the sump area was and didn’t notice that the cover that normally covers the hole was off.
I quickly ran to the plant area, took my protective clothing off (which apparently does nothing when one goes swimming), and turned the shower on. As a note, the disgusting showering facilities at an eighty -year-old paint-manufacturing plant might have done as much damage (mental, if not physical) to me as the actual fall did.
I have not experienced any after effects from the experience, though I have some weird places that have been growing hair on my body (most likely the fault of my parents/genes). My wife Shannon is expecting any day now, and I am anticipating to see if in reality it is a boy as indicated from the ultrasound and not a third leg!
(editor’s note: a somehow befitting ending after the trauma of the pink elephant; the well-being of his future children seems to always be in question)
Wow, this Jeek-bashing is turning into a family affair (oh, BTW, I hope you’re having a good birthday, Jeek).
My dad just e-mailed me this story I’d never heard about. In Papa Canuck’s own words:
“Amber,Here is another classic Jade story that has been told and retold many times!!All our 3 children were volleyball players, and since all 3 were “setters” a favorite pastime was the annoying habit of practicing their setting skills by endlessly bouncing a volleyball off the walls inside our house. Well this one time Jade was bouncing the ball off the walls inside the bathroom.
We finally noticed that things went quiet in the bathroom. No more noise of a ball being bounced endlessly off the bathroom walls. And after the longest time, Jade finally emerged from the bathroom. Well, to our suprise we found that Jade had broken the bathroom mirror and that he had taped the mirror so that no one could tell that it was broken. The strange thing about his taping job was that he used BLACK HOCKEY TAPE.”
Subtle, Jeek. Very subtle.
It is commonly known that I suffer from a condition called O.S.S. (Only-Sister Syndrome), which often evolves into S.O.S. under dire circumstances.
Having two ultra-competitive and ultra-insensitive brothers would drive lesser people over the edge (case in point: we once had another sister but she was weak and they ate her). As a Survivor, I have learned a few tricks of the trade, and one of them is exploitation.
Since it is my baby brother Jeek’s birthday tomorrow, allow me to share a few incriminating stories about him to help with my own healing. Y’see Jeek was actually born “Jade.” Around the “Tween” years when he refused to shower and constantly grabbed his crotch, the words “Jade” and “Geek” melded into one. Prior to their wedding, his wife once commented, “Funny. I never thought I’d marry a man named Jeek.” The joke’s on her.
It started young. When he was less than a year old, Mom had just changed baby Jeek and had left his diaper off while he played with his toy train. After a few minutes, we all heard a blood-curdling scream from the next room. We raced in there and the little pink elephant caboose had diverted off the track and onto poor little Jeek’s manhood. Even worse was his little trunk (the elephant’s, that is) was securely fastened around its prey. Poor little Jeek was inconsolable. Imagine the even poorer ER staff when they had to keep a straight face during the incident we refer to as only “The Pink Elephant.”
Every marriage has someone who’s usually right (or at least thinks they are!) Ours is Jamie, and to my chagrin, he usually is. But for the first time in a long time, I won out. Our disagreement was over the bushel of Halloween candy I bought. Jamie said it was waaay too much (his argument was based on the fact that last year, much or our area was still under construction so we had very few kids come by.)
Last night was a different story. The evening’s festivities began with a neighborhood costume parade with 200+ parents and kids…so many they had to close the street down. And where did the parade end? Smack in front of our house. And as soon as those kids saw me with The Bowl, it was beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Worse than the first day of hunting season, worse than the day-after-Thanksgiving sales. These little moochers seriously ran towards me screaming “Candyyyyyyy!” I had about 100 kids those first 10 minutes and they just kept coming allll night long.
As for our little Mooch, she put up her usual fuss when I put on her princess dress. I reasoned with her that if she had any deduction capabilities, she’d figure out every time she puts on that dress she gets candy. And then something clicked for my little tempest; she finally got it.
When her trick-or-treating time came, she was a whirlwind. Our little 17-month-old Hurricane Hadley grabbed Jamie’s hand and went to each house, stuck out her bag to receive candy, gave the obligatory smile and then led Jamie (very business-like) down our street. I think she’ll go pro next year.
When she got back, she dumped her stash, did a dance only a black child with rhythm could pull off and then delved in. We hadn’t seen a scene like this since she ate half a full-size cake for her 1st birthday (see write-up in the local paper). http://www.yourhub.com/Story.aspx?contentid=4482
A sugar rush last night was followed by a sugar hangover this morning. She claims it was all worth it.
Hurricane Hadley learned how to say “no” today. Emphatically.
Once upon a time, I used to love Daylight Savings Time. In fact, I used to look forward to it; I mean, how could you not appreciate an extra hour of sleep?
And then I had a child. An early-rising child. Yesterday, she arose at her “normal” time according to her inner baby alarm–6:30 a.m. Unfortunately, according to DST, it was 5:30 a.m. This morning was even worse: 4 frickin’ a.m. When I calmly explained to her after her 10th wake-up call that she still had three hours to sleep, she claimed she did not receive the time-change memo.
Tonight? Why bother to go to bed at all? Good thing it’s Halloween and I’ll be able to stuff myself with sugary solace. Speaking of which….
Top Three Things I Love About Halloween
(And the pre-Halloween parties that go with it)
1. Breakfast (pumpkin bread, Twix, Smarties)
2. Lunch (M&Ms, Snickers, Licorice, Hershey’s bar)
3. Dinner (Lays Chips, Reece’s, Take 5, Twix, suckers and Skittles [for dessert, of course] )
Happy Halloween!!!!!!!!!
P.S. Pics of Extreme Makeover: Den Edition will be posted when the paint finally dries (hopefully by the New Year.) In the meantime, it’s kinda like the backdrop of the first picture below, only redder.
I’ve never liked Ralph Lauren…from his yuppie cashmere to his pouty, anorexic models. And after this weekend, I have even more reasons to hate him. Y’see, good ol’ Ralph couldn’t just settle for his high-society clothing but had to make the transition to paint (not exactly a natural evolution). And not just any paint but faux finishes and techniques that caused us extreme angst during Extreme Makeover: Den Edition.
Jamie confessed to me that he received his inspiration to do the Ralph Lauren antiqued leather faux finish in the most unpretentious of conditions–on the toilet reading Newsweek. Wouldn’t ol’ Ralph be pleased?
Our goal was to achieve Ralph’s antiqued leather look, where “rooms are transformed into regal environments, replicating the worn nuances and appearance of aged leather.” Since when do people want leather walls?* And since when do people use words such as “regal” and “nuances” when describing a den? After hitting Home Depot up for more brushes and paint textures than I could count, I wondered whatever happened to the yonder years when you’d simply slap on a layer of paint and be done with it?
After three layers of the base coat, we brought out the fitch-edging tools and stipplers. Don’t have a clue of what I’m talking about? Neither did I until yesterday. Picture taking a toothbrush that you bought for $20 and blotting every single square inch of a room to give it a “leather” feel (*note: see aforementioned query).
We spent two days in that tiny room. Two days of paint fumes, spills and stress. And what do we have to show for it? Red leather that I’d never be caught dead in. But tan leather; that’s another story. I can just see it now: Extreme Makeover: Master Bedroom Edition….
I have graciously given Jamie two rooms in the house–the garage and the den. He is free to do whatever he chooses with these domains; the rest of the house is mine. Sound familiar to any men out there?
As far as bachelors go, he didn’t do too badly with his furniture choices before he met me. What disturbed me, though, was that he had never once eaten at his dining-room table. Dinnertime consisted of pulling out the ol’ TV tray and livin’ it up with Homer Simpson. It’s a good thing I saved him when I did.
It reminds me of some of my good friends, Keith and Jason. They had the ultimate bachelor pad with a stellar overlook of the city that they used to their full advantage when wooing the ladies. One day, we were all sitting around playing X-box and I noticed the decor for the first time: an entertainment center worth thousands of dollars and a recliner for each of the roommates. That was it.
As for my hubby, the den has been a resting place for every single random receipt, letter, book and box. The only decor has been his framed baseball cards, which he previously had on display in his living room bachelor pad (it took exactly one hour after I moved in to retire ‘em to a less conspicuous locale.) Above my head sits a John Elway bobble head; is there anywhere in the Decorating Handbook that designates a place for a bobble head besides the garbage?
Out of the blue last week, Jamie decided the den was ready for Extreme Makeover: Home Edition (though I hope our experience is far less emotive than that show; it always reduces me to a blubbering fool). His designated palette de choix? Red. I am neither for, nor against his choice as I have no voice in his domain (if I did, that bobble head would obviously be gone.)
And so I bit adieu as we turn off the computer for the weekend and the den makeover begins! Pics to follow the completed project; Ty Pennington watch out!
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. Learn More