I’ve Got To Pick Up a Pick-up

“So when are you going to pick up your pick-up?” my children kept asking. I’m not sure, but they said this so many times, I think they just liked to hear how it sounded.

It is an amazing thing, that when you are eagerly anticipating an event, time seems to crawl. But when you are not looking forward to something, time has the disobliging habit of proceeding quickly. When I finally made the decision to purchase the truck, it would be about 4-5 weeks before I would actually get to Denver to buy it. I can’t remember time ever passing so slowly, even waiting for Christmas as a child. It didn’t help that my children, as well as everyone at work, kept asking me when the big day would arrive. I imagine this is how expectant mothers feel when they tire of hearing, “So, when is the baby due?”

Finally, the day did in fact arrive. I got an amazing deal through orbitz.com on a plane ticket to Denver. I would have a 40 minute layover in Salt Lake City, but that would be just about perfect since they usually board 30 minutes before take-off. Plus, I had never been to the Great Salt Lake, which you fly over as you come in for a landing. I also got to see the Olympic stadium from somewhere between 15-20 thousand feet. I always think about taking pictures days after the opportunity occurs, so no photos, sorry. It was really something though. I was not the least disappointed in my layover.

I will tell you right now, I am a card-carrying cheap-skate. Everything I do, every day of my life, is in as inexpensive a manner as possible. Sometimes this causes me more expense and trouble in the long run, but as a general rule, I save money whenever and wherever I can. My original plan was to fly out of Bismarck, ND, as early as possible, make the deal on the truck, and drive back that night. Ambitious, I know, but I’ve succeeded at more ambitious endeavors than that and thought I could manage.

My other shortcoming is that I hate to impose on people. I didn’t want to ask Bob and Judy, the people I would be purchasing the vehicle from, to provide me with a bed. My brother Jeremy also lives in the Denver area, but too far away to be feasible. Lois and Rick, my aunt and uncle, are closer geographically, but like I said, I hate to impose. Deanna talked to me at length about how long a day I would have and to drive 12 hours back from Denver was probably not a good idea. So I made reservations at the Motel 6 in Belle Fourche, SD. This is the cleanest and cheapest lodgings I’ve found, at a good halfway point between ND and CO.

In the meantime, my dear father is extremely concerned this deal goes down smoothly, since he was basically the one who got the party started. Unbeknownst to me, he was making calls on my behalf. When I finally got wind of this, the revised plan was for me to cancel my Motel reservation immediately. When I got to the Denver airport, I was to take an $8 skyRide bus to the Wagon Road Park ‘n Ride bus stop. Bob would pick me up there, we would sign the deal on the truck and enjoy a fantastic dinner at the Rib House in Longmont, CO. Rick and Lois, who are good friends with Bob and Judy would be joining us for the festivities.

My dad sent me an email, and at the same time, Bob actually called me and told me that fathers do know best and, if I knew what was good for me, I should do what he says. I’m still in shock as my mouth is slowly falling open and saliva is starting to drip out because I’m thinking of ribs. I kept thinking at some point I will get pinched and wake up from this fantasy.

Then Bob said I had a decision to make. After dinner, I would have the privilege of driving the truck to Rick and Lois’s house, spending the night and leaving the next morning from there, or I was extremely welcome to spend the night at Bob and Judy’s and leave from their house instead. I did pinch myself at this point just to make sure this was not a dream.

It wasn’t. Follow-up emails and phone calls confirmed this was going to happen. So I canceled the Motel reservation and looked up the procedure for using the airport bus service. It was a very tough decision as to where to spend the night. I would have liked to spend some more time visiting with my aunt and uncle, however, I had already committed to playing the trumpet in a brass group that was performing for a celebration Mass to dedicate a new sanctuary at one of our local Catholic churches. I was supposed to play the night I was driving back from Denver. It was important that I left as early as possible the following morning. As much as I appreciated Rick and Lois’s hospitality, I thought it would be quickest to stay at Bob and Judy’s.

The plans were made and all I had to do was await the departure date. After a few days, the first change in plans occurred, but it was a great change. I would not have to take the bus, because my saintly Aunt Lois would be picking me up at the airport instead. We would then go to visit my cousin Paul, Rick & Lois’s son, at his place of employment, the National Center For Atmospheric Research (NCAR) in Boulder, CO. We would take a tour of their facility and have lunch with Paul. He has a computer related job like myself, so I was very interested in seeing the NCAR super computers. Plus, not only would I get to visit Rick and Lois, but I would get to see Paul as well.

The big day finally arrived. I cannot describe the excitement I was feeling when Deanna was driving me to the airport. I really enjoy flying, I would get to see relatives I don’t see nearly enough, tour some new sights, and drive a new vehicle home. I got on the plane almost without a hitch. Since I was only staying one night I really didn’t need to check any luggage so I fit all my overnight stuff in a backpack. Evidently my spray can of antiperspirant was too large to be allowed. I had no choice but to dispose of it and hope I could buy something driving out the next morning.

The flights went as scheduled and actually took off a few minutes early. I don’t believe I’ve ever had that happen to me. I was on Delta Airlines going into Salt Lake City and then would pick up the connecting flight to Denver. I’d never been to Salt Lake City so I was kind of excited about that. I chose orange juice and some cookies for my complimentary refreshment.

The Great Salt lake is pretty impressive. As I was looking at the lake the Olympic stadium passed by my window. I always request a window seat if I can. I didn’t expect to see that, so that was pretty neat. The SLC airport was about like other airports. I grabbed a venti (large) Latte at a Starbucks and followed the signs to my gate.

The 40 minute layover was just about perfect. I found a seat, and called Lois to tell her everything was on schedule and when I should be arriving. Then I checked in with Deanna to let her know I didn’t crash, yet. “Ha ha, that’s not funny,” she would say. I drink coffee like water so I did manage to finish my drink just when they were calling for boarding. I got on and we were off to Denver. The crunchy cookies were kind of tasty on the previous flight so I chose those again with a Ginger Ale for my refreshment.

After getting off the plane things started to get more exciting. The Denver airport makes you take a subway-like train to the baggage/passenger pick up area. As I got to the bottom of an escalator, a woman was frantically reaching her arm in the gap between the up and down sections. She had accidentally dropped her dad’s wedding ring and it was lying in the gap. I tried, but my arms just weren’t quite long enough. Not to mention the escalators were moving so when you reached in, they wanted to rip your arm off. Needless to say, she was borderline hysterical at this point.

I couldn’t think of any way to help her. I did look at the emergency shut-off button for the escalator. I considered pushing that and probably would have, had I been sure I would have been able to push the button to get it started again. I also had no idea how quickly the emergency shut-off stopped the stairs moving and I had visions of people falling down. I just wasn’t ready to shut-off an escalator at a busy airport. I breathed a sigh of relief when two airport personnel showed up. I wished her good luck and awaited the next train.

Just as I got on the train, my cell phone went off. These trains are super fast and this one decided to take off just as I was reaching into my pocket for the phone. I wasn’t holding on to anything and just about fell on my face. I just barely managed to wrap my arm around a pole. I wrenched it in the process, but stayed on my feet. The backpack hit the floor but thankfully didn’t go flying across the car. Slightly out of breath, I answered the call. It was the director of the brass group making sure I would be at the church on time for Mass the following day. I assured her I would do my best to make it.

I managed to pick my backpack up, put the cell phone away, and calm down just as the train slid to a stop. The trains stop just as fast as they take off. When you see signs demanding you hold on to something. It is in your best interest to do what they say. I walked off and headed towards the baggage claim carousels. I wasn’t picking up any baggage but that was where the exits were. I called Lois to let her know I had arrived in one piece, barely, after that train ride.

Denver has two terminals, East and West, depending on which airline you are flying. It is important to know which terminal you are at when arranging for someone to pick you up. I had done my homework on this and knew I was at the East terminal because I was flying Delta Airlines. What I didn’t know was that public transportation is on a different level than private transportation. Public transportation is conveniently located on the 4th level where the baggage claim is.

There are all kinds of signs directing you to the baggage pick-up area as well as where the bus and taxi services are. There are very few, if any signs, directing you to go down to the 3rd level for private transportation. Evidently, they feel if you’ve got private transportation, either the flyer or the driver knows what’s going on and there’s no need for signs. In my case, my wise aunt Lois knew all about this and asked what terminal and what level I was on.

I said the East terminal but had no idea the level. To the uninformed, such as myself, it’s just like you are walking outside. Again, wise Lois directed me to look at the numbers on the doors. They all said things like, 402, 403, 404, etc… She said I needed to go down one level to the 3rd floor. Thank goodness for cell phones, that could have been messy if I didn’t have any way to communicate with someone. I made my way down and walked out, on the 3rd level this time, right underneath the Delta Airline sign and awaited Lois to come and get me.

The pick up went off without a hitch. Lois drove up and I got in. The first words she said were, “there’s been a change of plans. The first thing you need to know about spending time with us is the schedule is always subject to change.” I couldn’t help but laugh. This sounds exactly like my schedule at home. Besides, I knew this was going to be a grand adventure and it was shaping up to not disappoint me.

Instead of meeting my cousin Paul at work, we would be going to the eye doctor where my uncle Rick had an appointment. My other cousin, Kara, works there. So after the eye appointment was done, the four of us would go to lunch and then get Paul at his house. Their nanny was ill and he was at home taking care of the kids. Paul’s wife, Jaime (hopefully I spelled that right), would be done with her work by the time we got there, so Paul could come with us to the NCAR building and we’d still get our tour. I thought this was fantastic, as now I’d get to see my cousin Kara as well as Paul. I don’t see either of them very often.

We got to the eye doctors' office. This particular establishment provides eye-care services to the Colorado Avalanche hockey team so there were jerseys displayed on most of the walls. I thought that was pretty cool. I have and have had quite a bit of family living in the Denver area so I’ve become somewhat of an Avalanche, Rockies, and Broncos fan. I’ve never really been into pro basketball so I can take or leave the Denver Nuggets. Rick was sitting in the waiting area. He hadn’t had his appointment yet.

It’s a good thing he was at the eye doctor as I must have stood in front of him for 10 minutes before Lois gently reminded him I was here. Then the lights went on and he crushed me in one of his trademark bear hugs. We had an enjoyable time chatting and catching up on family news. Kara came out and said hello.

After the appointment, Rick, Lois, Kara, and I went to a Mexican restaurant for lunch. One thing Bismarck/Mandan is lacking is a good Mexican restaurant. We have some, and the food is good, but it just doesn’t taste like authentic Mexican cuisine. As you get further south, this changes. I was really spoiled when I went to visit my dad in Tucson, AZ. We went to Las Cazuelitas De Tucson. Their burritos are absolutely amazing, plus they had a live mariachi band when we were there. As a trumpet player, I was sorely tempted to join in.

I can’t remember what the Denver restaurant was called, but I was not disappointed. The burrito I had was very good. I’m partial to the green vs. the red chile sauce, so I really like it when I’m given the choice. I also like it when the salsa doesn’t come from a jar and tastes like the vegetables were just chopped up that day. It was a fabulous lunch and was great visiting with Rick, Lois, and Kara.

After we finished eating, Kara went back to work, Rick went home, and Lois and I went to get Paul. One thing about driving in Denver is that it takes 1-2 hours to get just about anywhere. I’m sure I dozed off on the drive to Paul’s house. I really appreciated Lois providing transportation all over. She put in a fair share of driving that day.

We got Paul, said hello to his adorable children who were focused in on the FernGully movie, having been chased indoors by a recent rain shower, and drove to the NCARS building. The architecture of this place is amazing, set into the foothills of Boulder, CO, it makes for a very scenic place to work. There are scads of things to see here. It is designed to accommodate groups of school children on field trips. There are all kinds of little stations relating to weather and space exploration. I’m extremely interested in these subjects so I was fascinated. I wanted to read everything, but we would have been there several hours longer and we needed to meet Bob and Judy.

I especially liked a tornado simulator that is constructed with jets, a vacuum, and mist. You have a real live miniature tornado on display and the signs encourage you to stick your hand in and observe how that changes the shape and direction of the funnel. If you really get your hand in there, you can temporarily dissipate the mist only to have it re-form when you take your hand away. I had to laugh when a small group of kids came up to the display. I very cautiously put my fingertips into the funnel and then my hand for just a little bit. These kids went for the full body experience and dove into it like junior versions of Superman. Paul said kids will do that all the time. The funnel scattered and reformed as soon as the kids got off. I experienced a brief flashback of my own childhood. There was a time I would have dived in just like those kids.

But there are also advantages to being an adult and cousin to someone that works there. We got access into the computer room where the super computers are housed. To most people, this probably wouldn’t be very interesting. On the outside they just look like a lot of cabinets with blinking lights on them. But when you think of the sheer processing power, storage, and cooling systems of these computers, for a computer geek like myself it was awe inspiring. I worked at the computer center when I was in college but that was one mainframe which just isn’t in the same class as a super computer. The college mainframe was cooled with liquid nitrogen which was kind of neat to see at the time.

The most fun part was looking at the automated tape library. There was a two-story library filled with tape cartridges and tape drives. There were several little robots on rails that were responsible for retrieving tapes, inserting them in the drives, and putting them back when they were no longer needed. The whole thing was enclosed and you had to watch through windows, but I was still startled and jumped back when a little robot came zooming out of nowhere, flying right at me, and stopped just short of the window. It’s little arm grabbed a tape, zoomed over to the drives, and put it in. Absolutely fascinating how that works. We sat and watched the robots work for awhile.

After the tour, we took Paul home and went to pick up Kara’s son Tyler from school. He plays baseball, and usually hangs out with his grandparents or walks to a friends house before the game starts. Lois is a quilter and has several masterpieces hanging up in their beautiful house. Another uncle, Dave, living in MN, is a brick layer and had done their fireplace. Rick also took me on their deck where you can see their bird feeders and a water feature complete with fish. We relaxed and chatted a bit more until it was time to go to Bob and Judy’s house.

I started getting butterflies in my stomach as I was about to come face to face with the pick-up I’d only seen in pictures until then. Bob and Judy also have a beautiful house and greeted me as if they’d known me their whole life. We’d never met, but they are very good friends with my dad and stepmom, and doubtless had heard countless stories about my brother and me. After our greetings, I was introduced to the pick-up I was going to buy.

Their garage was spotless and the pickup did not have a speck of dust or dirt on it. You would thought it had just come off a show room floor. Everything was so clean I was afraid to touch it, but Bob encouraged me to open the doors and climb in. The inside was just as immaculate as the outside. It was almost surreal, I really felt like I was dreaming. I’d never in my life had a vehicle like this. Bob gave me a brief walk around and then it was time for dinner. I started it up. It even sounded beautiful. The truck has twin Magnaflo pipes in the back and rumbles. Loud vehicles do tend to annoy me, but this was different. It wasn’t loud enough to be obnoxious, just a soft deep-throated sound that makes you want to growl back in return.

I drove the pick-up to the restaurant to get a feel for it. I can’t remember being so nervous driving something. I backed inch by inch out of the garage. Almost in a daze, I drove Bob to the Rib House. The restaurant was every bit as good as it was claimed to be. The ribs fell off the bone and melted when they hit your mouth. My only regret was my choice of sauce. I’m kind of weird and choose spicy things just to see how hot they really are. I went for Jessica’s Fire sauce which is supposed to be sweet and spicy.

This is generally my favorite, but this variety had more emphasis on the spicy and not enough on the sweet. It was good, I just needed something to put out the flames afterwards. I’d probably try the mild or medium sauces if I ever get there again. I highly recommend this joint if you like ribs and ever find yourself in the Denver area.

After a very enjoyable dinner, I hugged Rick and Lois goodbye. It’s really tough when family members get sprawled across the country. I believe everyone that reads this blog can relate to that. You never get to visit as often as you’d like. Bob and I drove back to his house and I got a more detailed tour of the truck. We opened the hood, went over some of features, and talked about maintenance and the products Bob uses. Then we had to have a moment of silence just to stand there and look at it. Bob was probably saying goodbye to the truck and I was still trying to figure out if it was dream and at some point I would wake up. After awhile we went inside to sign the papers.

We looked over everything very carefully. The last thing I wanted was to drive all the way back to ND only to have the Department of Transportation tell me I didn’t have this form or the other and I couldn’t get the title transferred. As we were reading, writing, and signing, my dad called.

As I said, my dad was very concerned that things went smoothly. Living in Tucson, he couldn’t be on site at the time of sale. He was also probably a little nervous I wouldn’t like something or any other number of things our minds tend to dream up that would throw a wrench into our carefully made plans. He needn’t have worried, everything was going great. I was having a wonderful time, I loved the truck, and got it for a very reasonable price. I visited with dad for awhile and then called Deanna to let her know how everything was going. Then Bob showed me my choice of suites. They had two guest bedrooms. One of them had a waterbed and I’ve only slept on a waterbed twice in my life and found it to be a very comfortable experience, so I went with that.

And so ends an absolutely fantastic, fun-filled day. Thanks hugely to the efforts of Rick and Lois, and my now very good friends, Bob and Judy. If you look in your bible to Matthew 5:13, you will read Jesus talking about us being the “salt of the earth”. If you had a picture bible, you would probably see photos of these 4 wonderful people as perfect examples of what Jesus means. I am truly blessed to have Lois and Rick for an aunt and uncle, as well as Godparents. Bob and Judy are also two of the nicest people you could ever have occasion to meet. My gratitude to their generosity and hospitality simply cannot be put into words. I thank them from the depths of my heart.

Stay tuned for the ride home…

A New Addition In the Meissner Family

Yes, the Meissner family is pleased to announce the latest addition to our family. However, instead of two legs, it has four very impressive wheels!

My good ‘ole reliable green bomber (or blue, or possibly teal, depending on your level of color blindness) just turned over 210,000 miles. It is a 1993 Olds Cutlass Supreme that we got in 1995. It’s had some expensive repairs over the years but I have never owned a more reliable vehicle. Our 2001 minivan that we got in 2003 turned over 100,000 miles and is working on it’s 2nd transmission and probably has cost us the same amount of money in maintenance as the car we’ve had twice as long. This car has seen the birth of both our children, now ages 11 and 14, has gotten us to Colorado and Minnesota several times and last year made the journey to Canada and back. It's also still running strong after at least one severe vehicle collision and a deer collision you can read about here.

Add to the fact our teenage daughter got her driver’s permit last week. So she needs a vehicle to practice on. The green bomber is tailor-made for her. Incidentally, I’m soliciting volunteers (I may even pay you) to teach driving lessons because my wife just got fired for causing too much stress and I REALLY don’t want to do it. I’m also not the best teacher as my driving skills are, shall we say, not exactly above board? We'll just leave it at that, but I may be violating some obscure law if I attempt driver's education. I need to be a student, not a teacher.

Here it is. Hopefully we can still coax a few more years out of it. The picture actually makes the car look pretty good. You can’t see the 6 cracks running horizontally and vertically across the windshield, nor are the massive dirt smudges all along the bottom or any of the more massive scratches and bug and tar marks visible. I would have washed it before taking the picture had I not just gotten done spending 3 hours washing and cleaning the new vehicle for it's photo op coming up.

We purchased a 2005 Dodge Dakota Pick-up. I’ve wanted one a long time, but they just have never been in our price range. When we lived in town and had a small lawn we really didn’t need a pick-up other than just to say we had one. That's not a good reason to invest in anything.

A few years ago we purchased an acre outside of town and now have lots of grass and tree branches to haul away every year, and we get less than adequate snow removal services available in the Winter. I’ve been hauling the grass and tree branches in the back of our minivan but that just doesn’t work very well, and having a 4X4 vehicle will be nice in the Winter.

This year fortune finally smiled on our family. My dad was well aware of our vehicle concerns having to ride in the back of my green bomber all the way to Winnipeg, Canada and return. He lives in Tucson, AZ and was driving back by way of Denver where he stopped to visit with a long-time very close friend who just happened to have a Dodge Dakota he was thinking about selling but hadn’t quite reached that decision yet. The fact that it was a 2005 model put the truck closer to our price range, but what really put icing on the cake was the fact that it only had 8,600 miles at the time of purchase!

Back then, it was still just outside what we could afford, fast forward one year, and after quite a bit of vehicle shopping, I really could not pass this opportunity up. Regular vehicles with low mileage are not cheap and pick-ups were still completely out of the question. Everything I looked at that even came close to the price we wanted had more than 60,000 miles on it.

So here it is, just look at this baby! Flame red with every option that was available in 2005. Sport exterior package, fancy wheels, 6-disc CD changer, heated leather seats. (Should make for a nice toasty bottom during the cold winter drives.) 4X4 with a complete towing package. I can tow with electrical hook-ups just about any type of hitch inside the weight limit of the truck.

The one problem was that the truck was in Denver. I live in the middle of North Dakota. Somehow I had to get down there so I could make the purchase and drive it back home. Again, God has a way of just making things happen. With a lot of help from my family and the now, very dear to my heart, previous owners of the vehicle, a plan was hatched to get me a one-way ticket to fly into Denver, spend the night, and drive back the next morning. This truly was a grand adventure and deserves to be told in another blog. I will try not to keep you waiting too long.

So this is just our birth announcement. I will tell you about the journey in the very near future. Stay tuned, you won't want to miss the ride.

A Happy Birthday and a Good Friday

I did promise a sequel didn’t I? I left you with a busted coffee maker and a broken washing machine. Pretty much how this series started out. I went to work Wednesday morning, planning on taking another afternoon off so I could meet with the repair person.

I’m blessed with a job that allows me to have fairly flexible hours. I also got a laptop computer instead of a desktop tower for my last computer upgrade. I used to be sort of an anti-laptop person. I’m a computer geek which means I look at computers the same way Tim “Tool Man” Taylor, from the TV show Home Improvement, looks at cars and tools. Bigger is better and more power is a desirable goal.

I still salivate over big and beautiful computers but have come to appreciate the mobility my new laptop gives me. It’s still got a reasonable amount of horsepower (or gigahertz if you prefer) and storage capacity for my needs, and I can take it with me when I have to be at home. This allows me do my job without actually being at the office. So at noon, I undocked the laptop and went home to meet the repair guy. He was actually running early so he beat me home and was almost done by the time I got there.

Thank goodness it was under warranty. The water pump was broken and apparently, you can’t just order the water pump by itself, you have to order a new motor with the pump, even though the motor we have was fine. Then, of course, you have the 2 hours labor which ends up costing more than the parts.

The down side was the parts had to be ordered and yet another service call scheduled for the installation. We would be out a washer for a week. Ouch! While visions of rolls of quarters danced in my head with daily commutes to a Laundromat, my wonderful in-laws came to the rescue. They graciously allowed us the use of their facilities while our washer was down for the count. So my wife accepted the job of laundry shuttle driver ferrying loads of clothes back and forth.

I decided to work from home the rest of the day. It is amazing how productive one can be when you get away from the phone constantly ringing and people barging into your office. Add the fact that my kids were in school and my beautiful wife was keeping the interruptions to a minimum. I’m not kidding, I got more work done in 3 hours than I would have done in a weeks time at the office. Employers need to look at this when they consider people for telecommuting. In certain situations, it really works.

Since I was at home and so was our dead coffee maker, I decided to give their customer support another go. Once again I was on hold for almost 30 minutes, and once again got annoyed that every 20 seconds the computer voice told me my call was about to be answered. However, again, a very pleasant English speaking American answered the phone. This woman needs to lead seminars on phone support. Other than my crazy-long wait, she got 5 stars across the board. She gave me fast, clear, easy-to-follow instructions on how to submit a warranty claim. I simply needed to chop off the plug, and mail it with a statement explaining what happened and a check for $12.99 for shipping the new coffee maker to us. I will gladly pay $12.99 for a $54.00 coffee maker any day of the week. Of course, getting to whack the power cord was an added bonus.

Lest you forgot, it was my lovely wife’s birthday. Wednesday’s are also church family nights with supper. That night it was going to be Domino’s Pizza. Deanna and I don’t really care for Domino’s and that happens to be Brianna’s (daughter) favorite meal in the known universe. Brianna also can’t stand Mexican or any of the American simulations of it. So we dropped Brianna off at church so she could eat with her youth friends and Deanna, Brian (son), and me went to enjoy a delightful supper at Paradiso with Deanna’s entree being free on account of her birthday. Things had started looking up.

The coffee maker plug, letter, and check were sent off the next morning. Thursday was uneventful and passed without incident. I alternated between moments of relief that the dreaded 3rd thing would yet come to pass, and trepidation that this was just the calm before the storm and things were setting up to really get bad. It turned out the calm before the storm was exactly that.

We woke up Good Friday morning to a howling mad blizzard, in April. Though not unheard of, the magnitude of this storm is something I hope never to see again. My wife, Deanna, and I were supposed to be in church to participate in our time slot in a prayer vigil we have every year before Good Friday. Various church members sign up for hour-long slots so there is a continuous stream of prayer. The plan was for us to leave early, go to my in-laws house, put in a load of clothes, and then head to the prayer vigil. After our hour was up, the one load would be done and we could do another.

Because of the weather and some errands I needed to run in town, Deanna was going to drive herself to her folks and would try to meet me at the church. But if the weather was too bad, she would just stay there and pray at the house. I would go to the church so I could run my errands afterwards. She left first and wasn’t on the road 5 minutes when she called back telling me under no circumstances was I to leave the house, the weather was that bad. Unfortunately, I had already left.

Horrible driving conditions. Wet, slushy, and very slippery. I don’t think I exceeded 15mph all the way to church. It’s a miracle both of us made it to our destinations. After calling Deanna to ensure she was safe and letting her know I was safe, I proceeded to pray. I really enjoy this quiet time. If you have never participated in a vigil, it can be an extremely moving and rewarding time. Praying for a whole hour seems kind of intimidating but you get used to it very quickly and usually my time is up and I'm still going strong.

I was a little disconcerted the lights kept flickering on and off in the church. At the end of my hour the power went off for good. I shoveled the entryway and dug out my car. The snow was still falling in huge amounts so I was sure the entryway would fill in 10 minutes after I left but I had to make the effort anyway. I got in my vehicle and called Deanna to tell her I was on my way to the grocery store. The driving conditions were still bad but not quite as much as they were North of town where I live. It was almost fun plowing through the slush.

After getting the needed groceries, (I was getting ingredients for a fantastic cheese ball made from cream cheese and shredded beef jerky of all things, it tastes amazing and gets better the longer you leave it in the fridge-recipe available upon request), I called Deanna again to let her know I was on my way home. The power was still out and she had a load of clothes half way through a wash cycle. She had to stay at her parents just in case the power came back on.

I made it home. It’s always interesting to watch me open a heavy garage door with no electrical power. The kids, of course, were home alone. Our daughter is 14 and our son is 11. They are, for the most part, responsible, and can be left at home for a few hours. Brian was a little freaked out the power had been out so long. He was pretty excited to see me. Brianna was rocking away with iPod plugs in her ears, not a care in the world. I expected she would change her tune when the battery ran out.

Before leaving for prayer vigil we had boiled a dozen eggs for dying purposes. I had a dozen more to go with no power in sight. I was not discouraged, however. I’ve got a propane grill and a camping cook stove. Three burners just begging to be used. I’ve mentioned in a previous blog, my son likes to cook. So we loaded up with eggs and utensils and made our way to the garage now turned camp kitchen. I set Brian to work monitoring the boiling water for the eggs. You have to do this carefully or else your hard-boiled eggs get that ugly green colorization around the yolk.

I’ve also got this barely ever used camp cook set which includes a coffee pot. The old fashioned kind with no filter. You do remember I’m a coffee junkie and had been without for a few days? I also remember the hideous coffee we had on my fishing trip to Canada. (I’m sorry fishing buddies, but the coffee just wasn’t the best) I was determined to do better. I carefully read the instructions (I know, a novel idea) on how to make camp coffee. So I monitored the coffee production. My son enjoys coffee too.

The trick where we went wrong in Canada is to take the coffee pot off the burner when the water boils before adding the grounds. The grounds just need to steep and we boiled the beans out of them up North. Brian enjoyed it so much he wanted to make coffee like that all the time. We went for the whole experience and drank out of the camp cups that came with the cook set.

While waiting for water to boil, we passed the time throwing Whitewings paper airplanes around the garage. These are really cool airplane kits which involve cutting out index card pieces and gluing them together, they fly so sweetly and come in all different styles. We had a great time.

Deanna, not so much, the power never did come on and wouldn’t for several hours yet. Deanna had to go to work, not to mention getting Brianna prettied up for a Good Friday Passion performance at church. It was getting desperate for the females. Deanna gave up, left the soggy laundry in the washer at her parents and came home.

Curling irons and hair straighteners don’t work very well with no electricity. Deanna had the brilliant idea of trying my mom and stepdad’s house. They were celebrating Easter weekend in Minnesota, so I had to call a buddy who lived close to them to see if he had power, he did so off we went. Sadly, the house probably did have electricity, but the snow plow had gone by and left a ridge comparable to the Himalayas so there was no way to get in the driveway. We turned around and went to church, hoping they might have some power we could borrow.

Alas, it was not to be. Funnily enough the vigil had been cancelled. Ah well, at least I got my great hour of prayer in. The only thing left was to go back home, throw Brianna’s hair in a pony tail and call it good. There are times when a husband just needs to keep his mouth shut, and this was one of those times. I could have said all sorts of things, but none of them would have improved the situation.

One of Brianna’s school friends was also in a Passion reenactment at one of our local Catholic churches and she wanted to go to that. At that time, it was still up in the air if our own Good Friday service was going to be held, so we had to pack her clothes for that as we would have to go from one church to another. Deanna went work.

Meaning no disrespect or offense to the Catholics at this church, but it would be nice if non-Catholics wouldn’t get stared at as if they were little green men who just stepped off the mother ship and wandered into the sanctuary. It was extremely uncomfortable. We watched the service and left towards the end when everyone stood up for communion.

I called Deanna who told me our church service was cancelled. There was still no power so the service was moved to Saturday. We needed something to eat, so rather than worry about what we could manufacture at home, I called A&B Pizza, who blessedly, had power. We are not Catholic, but have a family tradition where we abstain from red meat on Good Friday, so we had a cheese pizza and a shrimp burger and french fries. We went home and to our delight, found electrical power restored. It turned out we were the fortunate ones as there were people who would be without power several weeks. The very wet ice and snow created so much weight on the power lines, huge metal towers crumpled like aluminum foil and the wooden poles snapped like toothpicks.

Since my mom and stepdad were out of town, I had mailbox and paper retrieval duty. So Saturday found me shoveling a wet slushy mountain just so I could get in their driveway. With any luck most of what was left would be melted by the time they got back.

It was an extraordinary week.

When It Rains, It Pours

This post is a bit dated but I had enough things happen to me the week between Palm Sunday and Easter, that I just had to write about it, albeit a bit late.

Monday, the coffee maker died. People who know me understand I can drink coffee by the gallon. I’ve alluded to this in a few older posts. I love the smell of coffee. I love the taste of coffee. I can drink it all day long and still not really get enough. When people look at me like I’m some sort of freakazoid from the java solar system, I usually respond with some comment along the lines of, “there are worse things to be addicted to.” I drink decaf as much as possible to keep the heartburn at bay and moderate my caffeine intake. Other than that I see no adverse affects I’m doing to my body.

My wife also uses the coffee maker to make hot water for her foo-foo cappuccino powder. Our coffee maker gets used every day and sometimes 2-3 times daily on the weekends. Having it malfunction is not a good thing.

So I called the 800-number support line. Of course they were closed for the day. So then I brought the user’s manual to work because that had the model number on it. After waiting on hold for 30 minutes I finally got to talk to a live body. Here’s a hint to businesses that use automated answering systems. It gets a little wearing when I’m told every 20 seconds that my call will be answered in the order it was received. I can’t even enjoy a whole song on the waiting system because the voice has to interrupt and remind me my call will be answered. I knew that, now please just let me listen to the music. Even bad music is better than an annoying voice telling me for the thousandth time my call will be answered.

The live body asks me what my problem is. “My coffee maker doesn’t work”.

“Did you clean it with vinegar?” she asks, way too quickly.

I was ready for this question. “Several times,” I said.

“When did you purchase this unit?”

“Less than a year ago.” I answered, patience running very thin at this point. I told myself to be thankful she was at least speaking English with an American accent. A rarity in phone support these days.

“I need to have the model number and series number, this can only be found at the bottom of the unit.”

“Excuse me?” I asked

“I need the model and series number from the bottom of the unit.”

“I don’t have that.”

“I need to know the series number before your warranty claim can be processed.”

“I need to call back later, are you sure I don’t need anything else, any other number?”

“That’s all you need, sir”

“You’re sure, absolutely nothing else?”

Now she’s laughing at me, “I’m sure, sir, just the model and series number.”

I groan, now I’m going to have to wait on hold again and who knows when I’ll have the coffee maker with me during business hours? But I resign myself to my fate.

Tuesday, the washer died. Things just got a little more serious. We’re a family of four and we wash clothes practically every day. Not being able to wash is huge. They say bad things come in threes, I can’t wait to see what Wednesday has in store. My wife calls me early that afternoon shrieking because the washer won’t drain. So I took the rest of the afternoon off and raced home to see what could be done.

The code on the washer was “LD” which apparently means “Long Drain”. I called an 800 number for this as well, I was put on hold again but this time it was only for a few minutes. I found out the washer was still under warranty and they would dispatch a repair person at once.

Now a smart person would have just left things in the hands of professionals. Unfortunately, I’m not always what one would consider a smart person. There was still a load of soaking laundry in the washer half filled with water. The “LD” code meant that the drain hose was clogged. So that sounded simple enough if I could get the drain hose out and clear it, maybe I could at least finish the load in progress.

I must also register a complaint with the Whirlpool owner’s manual. I found the page that listed the error codes. We have a wonderful digital push-button washer, too bad it didn’t work. “LD”-means long drain. The solution is to clear the drain hose. Absolutely nothing else to tell you how to clear or disconnect the hose. Totally worthless instructions.

The back of washers and dryers are never in convenient places. I had to pull out the washer, disconnect the power and water hoses, vacuum and clean the several inches thick of dust, and finally I was able to squeeze myself back there.

The hose entered the back of the washer at the top, but then fed down inside and connected to the wash basin at the very bottom. So I had a panel and some plastic tie-downs that I needed to remove first. Then I was able to see where the hose attached to the reservoir underneath the washer.

If you can picture the most cramped, hard to get to place, that’s where this hose was connected. There was a huge clamp securing the hose but no good way to press the pinchers together. The clamp was really big so I had to get my large long-handled pliers to get around it. My patience really started to get tested as I moved and jiggled the pliers in every direction imaginable to try and get the clamp off. Finally, I managed to squeeze the pinchers and remove the clamp. Then I pulled off the hose.

It was then that Hoover Dam broke open. The reservoir underneath the wash basin probably held 2-3 gallons of water. When the drain hose was removed all that water started gushing out. I quickly slammed the hose back on the outlet and considered my situation.

My hand was holding the hose onto the outlet, the clamp was off, and large amounts of water were spreading across the floor of the laundry room and soaking into the seat and legs of my jeans. What on Earth was I going to do?

I believe “Lord help me,” were the first words out of my mouth. It was then I noticed several rags lying about that I had brought in to help keep things clean and (chuckle) soak up any leaking water. I thought if I could twist a rag in a tight enough wad, I might be able to shove it into the outlet so I could take the hose off and clear the blockage. I might not stop it completely, but hopefully I’d avoid any more gushers.

It’s not easy twisting a rag one-handed. My other hand was still holding on to the drain hose. So I used my teeth, an elbow, and my one free hand to twist up a rag I hoped would be the right size. I went through step by step in my head the motions I would have to go through. Take the hose off, quickly insert the rag, twist and push it in far enough so it would not pop out once I let go.

It really helps to plan things in your head before acting. The rag plug worked surprisingly well, and I was able to avoid a repeat deluge of water. I twisted and shoved the rag as far in as I could and let go.

It stayed. I had to stare at it awhile to convince myself it wasn’t going anywhere. I grabbed the now separated drain hose and stood up. Grimacing as I experienced the cold soaking wetness of my pants.

I took the hose into the garage. I tried to blow through it. Nothing, totally blocked as I was told by the worthless manual. But now how to clear it? It was very long and narrow. I had nothing in my garage that would be able to snake its way through the hose.

Still holding the hose, I paced around the garage, thinking now what? I knew that rag plug wouldn’t last forever. It would either become too saturated with water, or it would pop out and then I’d have a real mess. I usually gesture when I’m talking to myself or others, so as I paced, I shook the hose up and down.

I heard rattling. Something inside the hose was loose. Well, maybe I could at least shake that out. I tipped the hose down and listened to the pleasant sound of rattling as the obstruction made its way down the hose. It finally stopped but nothing came out. When I looked at the end of the hose, I saw a kind of gasket inside that was preventing whatever it was from escaping. So I turned the hose the other way and listed to more pleasant rattling sounds as the object made it’s way out the other end.

I was very surprised when a penny fell onto the sidewalk. At some point in my pacing I had wandered outside. I have no idea why so don’t ask.

Here’s a picture of the obstruction. I apologize for my poor photography skills. I’ve placed a new penny next to it for comparison. It appears the penny had been there for some time. It was fairly worn around the edges. It’s possible it just finally got moved and jostled around enough by the water that it clogged the hose. I blew through the hose again and to my delight found it was completely clear.

I charged back into the house flushed with my success. I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts after I’d finally squeezed back behind the washer. There was a steady stream coming out of the outlet. The rag was quite soaked by now. I went through all the motions in my head again.

The hose went on much harder than it came off. Then I had to fiddle with it to get the clamp and these two notches in the hose to line up with the two pins on the outlet. People who’ve been around me know I have this annoying tendency to have everything perfect so I didn’t quit until the hose and clamp were in proper order.

Then my wife came home from work. (Queue the sinister background music.) She works weekday evenings and had gotten some groceries so it was around 10:30PM. She was hopping mad. “SO WE’RE NO LONGER GETTING IT REPAIRED TOMORROW?” Then, before I could respond, she launched another attack. “EVERY LIGHT INSIDE AND OUTSIDE THE HOUSE IS ON!” We’ve really been trying to cut expenses so any unnecessary power usage is a bad thing.

She had no way of knowing that it was only about 15 minutes ago I had turned any lights on to go out to the garage and then outside. I'm still not sure why I went outside. It’s not like they had been on all night.

She also had no way of knowing why I was in my predicament. Yes, I admit, I have a difficult time letting things go if I think I have a solution. But my real reason for attempting the repair myself was because the next day was Deanna’s birthday and we had planned to go out for her free birthday lunch at Paradiso, a local Mexican restaurant. Waiting for a repairman had not entered our plans so it was debatable we would even get to go. You don’t get a free meal every day so my plan was to try and repair the washer enough so we could still use it and then it wouldn’t be so critical for the repair person to come over so quickly and we could schedule the repair another time.

She didn’t know any of these things and if she had, she probably wouldn’t have shouted at me considering everything I had gone through to get to that point. As it was, now I was hopping mad. I told her to go away until I was done otherwise I would lose my temper. We would discuss this after I calmed down, cleaned up, and found a dry pair of pants.

I got the washer all hooked up, mopped up the residual water, and cleaned all the disgusting filth that lurks behind washers and dryers. Then I attempted to finish the load of laundry. Would you believe it still didn’t work? “LD” was still blinking in bold red digital letters. If I had a sledgehammer I might have fixed the washer permanently. Thankfully, the sledge was still in the garage.

Finally, I surrendered to the inevitable. The repair person would still be coming tomorrow and we probably would have to forego the free lunch.

I still had to have a conversation with the Mrs. I found some dry pants and she had made a nice cup of cappuccino (courtesy of microwave oven heated water) We were able to debrief like calm, grown-up adults. (how’s that for redundancy?) We both apologized and all was well. Considering we still had a defective washer and coffee machine.

Sorry folks, I know serials aren’t for everyone, but I’ve got to save the rest for part II. I’ll try very hard not to run into a part III.