Pilgrimage to Jasper

30 September 2006 - Had to see a man about a horse cart on a "ranch" located near Jasper, MO. I estimated the distance at about 300 miles each way. I told myself I was over the post-traumatic stress syndrome from the accident where a Palmentere Bros. semi slammed into the back end of my old red pickup truck Victor. I was determined to drive there and back in one day, but I took my dog with me, just in case and to ride shotgun. All in all it was a pleasant outing, green fields on either side, NPR on the radio, leaves starting to show fall color. There were
odd things on the road, like the "Mule Trading Post" selling life-size replica draft horses. A little further down the road someone had a lifelike but fake Appaloosa tied to their front porch. Yeah, I could see something like that in my front yard but it would be a kid magnet, better not.

I was looking for cheap gas. Gasoline in Belleville IL was going for $2.16 (down from the summer high of $3.09) but gas in St Louis was mostly $1.97. I didn't find anything cheaper as I headed towards Joplin, in fact prices spiked up around the turnoff to Branson. I settled for $1.99 and filled up the tank west of Springfield. As I was pulling back on the interstate, it was one of the Situations of my PTSS nightmares, the one where I'm trying to merge in traffic with a big truck overtaking behind. I dithered, said I'm over this, stomped hard on the accelerator and merged okay. Looked in the rearview mirror and almost had a heart attack. Being dsylexic meant I could read the "Palmentere Bros." logo on the truck behind me. Looked up in front--there was another one. I was in a Palmentere Bros convey. The driver behind me dropped back rather than tailgate. Maybe my suing them has had this good effect; or maybe the driver who tailgated me, hit me twice and then stalked me with crank telephone calls was an aberration.

I got to Jasper, loved the look of the cart and took home one fully assembled, well bungied down in the bed of the truck. I can recommend dealing with Brad and Lynda of Frontier Equestrian. They also have draft horse saddles and bridles as well as harness and tack for minis. I will say that driving home was more nerve-wracking and not just because I was tired. People had to pull right up behind me or alongside, I guess they were trying to figure out what that strange object was. Sad that lots of people have never seen a horse cart.

Sammy's Brief Career as a Bloodhound

At 3am this Sunday morning I threw the dogs outside, not aware that the gate was open. When I got up at 6am, Sammy came running from across the street where he had been playing (!) with the enormous but gentle St. Bernard who has to live on a chain. Tara was nowhere. I walked up and down the street with no luck, then thought of trying to get Sammy to help find her. Alas, he led me straight across the street to the neighbor's hot rod and sat down at the driver's side door. When "lifted" and set back on the trail, he went a little further -- choosing another hotrod. I decided I could do better without him. By 8am, I had scoured the neighborhood. By 10am, signs were posted. The temp was rising.

Someone had sent me an email -- send out to 10 people and make a wish. So I tried that. I'm happy to report that Tara is home, safe and sound. She found somewhere to hole up during the heat and then returned home -- only to discover that she was a wanted fugitive. None of the neighbors were able to catch her. I returned from checking on Rudy and found her still evading pursuit -- so much for my fears of her being dognapped! I don't know -- credit apparently goes to the email. Now I have to go take down all the signs.

Fire and a Freak of Luck

30 July, 2003 - Driving to work today took me past a dramatic fire in downtown East St. Louis, IL. One of the abandoned brick buildings in the middle of the row near the MetroLink stop at Fifth and Missouri was sending out a plume of greasy brown smoke, while fire engines shot jets of water and the police cordoned off the roads. There was the small fire engine stationed behind the building which all the MetroLink riders would have gotten close view of, then the larger fire engine and the crane in front, firing down through the collapsed roof. It looked as if the fire would soon be out.

Coming home was merely normal: the usual traffic accident, construction and stupid drivers cutting one another off. The light was flashing on my answering machine: St.Louis Public Library calling to say I've won two tickets to a Cardinal's game.

The 7 Stages of Vacation Preparedness

Stage 1: From the end of the last vacation to 6 months: It’s over. You grieve but come to terms with it, and go back to work.

Stage 2: 6 months to 2 months prior: A faint hope dawns. Pleasant memories resurface and go back to sleep.

Stage 3: 2 months to 1 month prior: Practical arrangements are considered.

Stage 4: 1 month to 1 week prior: Anticipation builds. Practical arrangements are made. Packing is mentally organized. Lists are made. This time, one will not leave town in a hideous last-minute scramble.

Stage 5: 1 week to 1 day prior: Laundry, work and loss of lists interfere with orderly preparation. Anticipation turns to despair, rage and exasperation. Practical arrangements frequently become unstuck at this point.

Stage 6: The night before: Washing machine breaks, dishwasher explodes and coyotes trash garbage bin.

Stage 7: The morning of: Stuff dirty clothes hamper into truck of car, set timer on detonator to dynamite under house to explode in 50 minutes and drive off. Return 45 minutes later to retrieve toothbrush. Forget to turn detonator back on.


Vacation!


Return to find house still standing. Cancel insurance claim. Resume Stage 1.

Sudden Storms

Saturday July 22, 2006 - The story really begins with the heat wave that
blanketed much of the country earlier this week. The St. Louis Metro
area was locked down under a hot, humid lid of air that became hotter, more stifling and more polluted as the week wore on. The electric power
grid was strained even before the storms.

The first storm hit my neighborhood around 7pm Wednesday night. Sammy, my weather predicting Shih-tsu, insisted on crawling into his crate around 6:30pm. I went to bed early as well. The storm did not seem that serious inside my well-built house. The big tree in the front yard shed a few twigs and some leaves. Thursday morning, driving into the office in Fairview Heights, IL I could see
branches down and every other traffic light was not functioning. The radio recited a litany of storm damage: part of the roof of the airport blown off, widespread power blackouts, buildings collapsed and the Cardinals baseball game
delayed. I arrived at the office at my usual time to find the power out in our building. No phones, computers, lights or air conditioning and the forecast for Thursday July 20 was that it would be the hottest day of the year with temperatures reaching a life-threatening range.

My coworkers and I would have preferred to go home. We bitched and moaned about making the long trek into St Louis, made doubly difficult and dangerous by the condition of the bridges across the Mississippi. The Poplar Street Bridge which carries three interstates has been partially closed by construction and was obstructed by a tractor-trailer accident. The Eads Bridge which carries the
MetroLink trains had been shut because of the collapse of the Switzer Building, a decrepit brick structure beside the Laclede Landing/Arch stop. Only the narrow and nasty King Bridge continued to link downtown St. Louis with the Illinois hinterlands.

But management asked us to go. The Lackland Hills office in suburban St. Louis has an emergency generator; it had power and was already taking our calls. And despite all the bitching and moaning, most of my coworkers braved the bridges (reopened by 9am) and debris-strewn roads to go in and help our travelers. We had to use other people's desks, chairs and computers, arranged to their
convenience and not to ours. We didn't have our "stuff" - the printouts, notes, manuals or phone rolodex files that have the details of serving our special accounts. The fumes and the noise of the generator made us a little sick. We weren't as productive. Yet we answered the phones with bright cheerful voices
and did the best we could. Management bought in lunch. With great relief, power was restored to Fairview Heights by the middle of Thursday afternoon.
Business as usual tomorrow. Hooray!

Friday morning found us happily working at a relaxed pace. Someone checked a doppler radar website and said that new storms were on the way. The storm broke with a burst of rain and wind around 11:25am. Power went down and the computers died. Power staggered up again a few minutes later, and I had just started to reboot when it crashed again. We were herded out of our glass-walled office into the atrium. That building is not well-designed for a tornado zone and there is limited space to shelter away from all the glass. The storm didn't last long,
but the power didn't come back.

It was my normal lunchtime. Management had planned a "Festa Day" and had nacho fixings in the break room. Because of our staggered lunch schedules, I never see more than a few of my coworkers at lunch. This was almost like a party. People were chattering in the dark, loaning flashlights and cell phones, pointing out the location of the chips and the soda. After we had eaten, we drifted around, waiting for power. At least this storm had cooled things down.

I had to leave at 1:30pm to go to the doctor's. None of the traffic lights were working and big trees were down. Sullivan Road between Lincoln Trail and Frank Scott was bumper to bumper because of the lack of traffic lights. Once I crossed North Belt, everything was working. I was 15 minutes late at the doctor's, but they had other people running still later. When I went to my usual Walgreens to file my prescription, they told me the wait would be 45 minutes rather than 20--they were helping other drugstores in their chain who had
lost power. Pharmacists from other stores were running in and taking out
loaded baskets of prescriptions.

When I got back home, I could tell that my house had lost power since the clock on the stove was blinking but that the power outage had been brief since the kitchen radio still had its alarm setting. Sammy was worried but fine. This morning my dentist's office called and cancelled my appointment. Because of the power outage, all water from the tap must be boiled. St. Clair County, where
I live, is part of the disaster area.

If you are reading this, take a moment to give thanks for the blessing of power and the miracle of light. Consider also the importance of civilization, which requires heroic effort to keep going. I am fortunate to be only lightly touched by a local disaster. Compared to some of the other disasters in Indonesia, North Korea, Israel, Lebanon, Iraq and China, St. Louis is a better
place to be.

Talegate of Two Trucks

Sunday, March 28, 2004 - I'm still laughing over a pickup truck that was sitting right in front of mine at a red light yesterday. It was a big Dodge, bright red. Along the roof of the cab in letters upside down ran the slogan: "IF YOU CAN READ THIS, ROLL ME BACK OVER". Emblazoned on the window behind the driver was a Dodge Ram emblem with the words "BAD ASS" under it. On the passenger side window was the motto: "Git in, siddown, shuddup and HANG ON!"

Despite these words, not a single ding, dent, or scrape marred the finish on this beautiful new truck, which looked like it has just been waxed and washed. Sitting in my own 10-year old pickup, I started to laugh. My truck has a dent in the passenger side door, and numerous nicks, dings and scratches. These have been honestly earned hauling horses, hay and picnic supplies, carrying supplies, equipment and volunteers for three day events and helping friends and neighbors move furniture. Every scratch and dent represents a good time had or a good deed done. Which pickup truck is more beautiful?