Ah, the final day of football season. The big game. A newbie team against an oldie team. An aging quarterback against one just entering his prime. A great defense against a great offense. For the first time in a long time I care, but I don't care. I like both teams. I like both quarterbacks. For sentimental reason I want to see Peyton Manning ride out with a Super Bowl win on the 50th anniversary of the game if only to shut up those critics who believe worth is measured in how many rings are on the finger. For annoyance reasons I want Carolina to win because John Elway gets on my nerves and he thinks this game is all about him. I would love to see a great game that isn't one sided.
How bad does Manning want this game? If it is great he needs to step up and be the Peyton Manning of old. The defense needs to crush this Panther offense. I suppose I lean more heavily toward the Broncos, but I'm not sure I'm feeling it. Perhaps I too am caught up in Manning's lack luster performances in the big game. Perhaps I am too caught up in Cam Newton's arm and rushing ability and sheer joy of the game. Maybe I'm secretly pulling for the Panthers because Denver has already won several rings. Or perhaps it is that my daughter now resides in the state of North Carolina (and had no clue the Panthers were even in it). Either way....
Carolina over Denver
Or wait...
Sunday, February 07, 2016
Happy Birthday Shout out #4 - Susan
Happy Birthday Susan
It took a long time for me to get to know my SIL, and I've written about our past on here before, but the thing about her is that she doesn't dwell on the past and so in this shout out I'm not either. Because now we are besties and that's all that matters.
This month is Breast Cancer Awareness Month as well as Susan's birthday month and it is fitting because she is a breast cancer survivor. She found the lump right before she came to visit us in the summer of 2014. I can remember looking at it, touching it, and thinking it was the oddest shape. I worried about it, but after she went home I just didn't think it would be anything. I was wrong. She had triple negative cancer and had to undergo chemotherapy treatment and she fought the disease as she fought everything else that tried to block her life and bring her down; with strength, faith, and humor.
Now cancer free she approaches life with the same attitude she always had, but with a little more enthusiasm, a little more grace, and a lot more laughter. She can pick me up when I am down, and if I'm being more stubborn then usual she reminds me that she had cancer and I need to suck it up. She doesn't take herself so seriously and she fights harder for things she wants now. She is a great mother, a good neighbor, a wonderful friend, and a patient wife (which she has to be putting up with my brother these past
For her birthday this year I wish for her sunshine and some warmth because deep down she is a palm tree loving, flip flop wearing, sunshine soaking, beach going, pool worshiping girl living in the frozen tundra.
Happy Birthday my dearest sister-in-law and friend.
Sending hugs and kisses your way.
Love ya!
Saturday, February 06, 2016
The bobby pins are invading my house
For years Darcy has worn her hair back in a tight bun and because of that her hair started breaking off. Our hairdresser told her this was the issue, but she didn't stop the bun until a few months ago. Now the fly around her head wisps are driving her crazy and she uses bobby pins to hold them all down along with several different bottles of hair gunk. I've purchased several packs of bobby pins, but have told her that I'm done buying them. The reason being is that everywhere I go I find bobby pins. It's like they are following me, taunting me. I literally cannot go into a room without spotting one lying somewhere, and so this week I decided to photograph them so other people would understand.
Sunday - Floor of her bedroom
Sunday - Entrance to the bathroom
Sunday - On the kitchen table
Monday - On some homework
Monday - On some books in the Steelers room
Tuesday - Hallway
Tuesday - On my dusty coffee table
Tuesday - On the couch in the Steelers room
Wednesday - On her desk
Wednesday - On Madison's dresser
Wednesday - On the pink chair in Maddy's room
Thursday - On the back of the hall bathroom toilet
Thursday - To the side of the toilet by the shower
Thursday - In her bed
Friday - On the back of my couch
Friday - In the shower on the ledge
Friday - On the window sill above her desk
She got her haircut this week so I'm hoping her hair is on its way to better health. Be gone wisps before I lose my mind!
Friday, February 05, 2016
Delivery Crew
After taking down the waterbed in The Condo I've been searching for a replacement mattress. I went to Sears because I've purchased all of my mattress, sans those filled with water, at Sears. Plus they were clearing out their old mattresses to make room for 2016 mattresses, and I'm all about the deals. Especially on a bed that I don't plan to sleep on.
I was very honest with the sales guy telling him my story of changing out beds for a place that most likely would be a rental. I only needed a mattress and not the box springs and so he showed me several floor models. I climbed into bed more times than I could count with him standing over me looking down as I tossed and turned. I felt very exposed doing this, and when I didn't find anything at Sears I left. I decided that mattress shopping was better with two people and so I arranged a shopping day with my friend SueG and her daughter Sydney.
We set off on Saturday and went to the closest shopping area by our house. There were three mattress places on one corner; two of them Mattress Firms. We went inside and again I told the sales guy my story and what I wanted; a decent mattress for a decent price. Austin agreed he could find me that and explained the store color code; green is firm, orange is medium, blue is soft, something along those lines. Sydney and I hopped on beds, rolled around on beds, pretended to sleep on beds. We inspected those with memory foam and those with springs. Mattress Firm also sells back mattresses that have been returned after a certain day trial run at a discounted price. I made a comment about things that might have gone on on those mattresses and Austin was quick to insure me that the mattresses were thoroughly cleaned, disinfected, and sanitized as required by law. Uh huh.
Austin went off to check the computer and returned with the bad news. No warehouse had that mattress in stock. We went back to examining mattresses and found another one only to find that the one they had in stock wasn't all that nice looking. So much for the cleaning, disinfecting route. We thanked him and left. We spent the next couple of hours visiting various stores that sold mattresses. I found a kitchen table I wanted at a furniture store, but their mattresses were too expensive and the used ones smelled smokey. We finally headed back the way we had come and ended up at the Mattress Firm across the street from Austin's Mattress Firm. Supposedly he had checked their inventory, but since we still didn't have a mattress we decided to check for ourselves.
Paul was very helpful, but once he found out we had been across the street he called Austin to get the scoop. That was probably something we should have discussed among ourselves before giving up, but the damage done we went about climbing up and on mattresses. Eventually Paul found us a mattress, in stock, for the same price Austin had given us for the other mattresses. Uh huh. Our bad. But at this point my back was hurting from all of the trying out of beds and so I said, "Sold! Ring me up." (the mattress above is the one I bought) We sat down and he went about trying to sell me covers that would ward off everything including cancer. I turned him down and then he told me it would be a $70 delivery fee and it wouldn't be able to be delivered until February 7th. WHAT? SueG and I tried to dicker with him, but he said it was a logistic issue. SueG then said we should save the money and tie it to the roof of the car.
SueG: "Think what a good blog story that would be."
SOLD. Paul let us try to move the mattress in the store so we could see if I was able to do it, but Sydney and SueG could do it and so we set off to pick up the mattress at another Mattress Firm. Apparently Mattress Firm is on more street corners than Walgreens or CVS. Who knew? The fact that there are two or more across from each other had to do with buying out other mattress stores and agreeing to take over those stores. Strangely, we didn't question that and headed south. At the store John, sales guy number 3, had us drive around the back down an alley where he attached the mattress to the top of SueG's van.
While John was tying it down with rope with our verbal help Madison face timed me on my phone. I answered so that I could tell her that I would have to call her back.
Madison: "Where are you? It looks very suspicious like an alley."
Me: "We are at Mattress Firm tying a new mattress to the roof of SueG's van to save $70 in delivery fees."
Madison: "It looks like a very shady deal."
Me: "Well, it is and now we are going to tie Sydney to the mattress and the roof to hold it all together."
I promised to call her back later and we thanked John, signed away our lives on some forms he had, and headed to The Condo...without Sydney on the roof, although we agreed that would have made a better blog entry. About halfway to The Condo I realized I didn't have keys to the place and we had to make a detour to my house to retrieve those. Every few minutes SueG would ask if the mattress was still attached, and I would look out my side of the window and Sydney would look out her side of the window and we would give SueG the thumbs up.
Once at The Condo it took me longer to cut through John's ropes then it did to haul the mattress up the stairs to the second floor condo. My mother's neighbor, who is a sweetheart, immediately popped out of his condo to assist in the carrying. He and SueG took an end and up the stairs they went with me following behind snapping photos.
Neighbor: "Why's you taking pictures?"
SueG: "For her blog."
Neighbor: "I don't know what that is, but I hope she gets my good side."
From there it was a breeze into The Condo and on to the box springs where Sydney and I promptly jumped on it to make sure it was as comfy in there as it was in the store. Once we agreed it was going to work just fine we left it there to breathe.
And then we went out to dinner where we spent $70 and agreed that food and booze was a better splurge than a mattress delivery.
I was very honest with the sales guy telling him my story of changing out beds for a place that most likely would be a rental. I only needed a mattress and not the box springs and so he showed me several floor models. I climbed into bed more times than I could count with him standing over me looking down as I tossed and turned. I felt very exposed doing this, and when I didn't find anything at Sears I left. I decided that mattress shopping was better with two people and so I arranged a shopping day with my friend SueG and her daughter Sydney.
We set off on Saturday and went to the closest shopping area by our house. There were three mattress places on one corner; two of them Mattress Firms. We went inside and again I told the sales guy my story and what I wanted; a decent mattress for a decent price. Austin agreed he could find me that and explained the store color code; green is firm, orange is medium, blue is soft, something along those lines. Sydney and I hopped on beds, rolled around on beds, pretended to sleep on beds. We inspected those with memory foam and those with springs. Mattress Firm also sells back mattresses that have been returned after a certain day trial run at a discounted price. I made a comment about things that might have gone on on those mattresses and Austin was quick to insure me that the mattresses were thoroughly cleaned, disinfected, and sanitized as required by law. Uh huh.
Austin went off to check the computer and returned with the bad news. No warehouse had that mattress in stock. We went back to examining mattresses and found another one only to find that the one they had in stock wasn't all that nice looking. So much for the cleaning, disinfecting route. We thanked him and left. We spent the next couple of hours visiting various stores that sold mattresses. I found a kitchen table I wanted at a furniture store, but their mattresses were too expensive and the used ones smelled smokey. We finally headed back the way we had come and ended up at the Mattress Firm across the street from Austin's Mattress Firm. Supposedly he had checked their inventory, but since we still didn't have a mattress we decided to check for ourselves.
Paul was very helpful, but once he found out we had been across the street he called Austin to get the scoop. That was probably something we should have discussed among ourselves before giving up, but the damage done we went about climbing up and on mattresses. Eventually Paul found us a mattress, in stock, for the same price Austin had given us for the other mattresses. Uh huh. Our bad. But at this point my back was hurting from all of the trying out of beds and so I said, "Sold! Ring me up." (the mattress above is the one I bought) We sat down and he went about trying to sell me covers that would ward off everything including cancer. I turned him down and then he told me it would be a $70 delivery fee and it wouldn't be able to be delivered until February 7th. WHAT? SueG and I tried to dicker with him, but he said it was a logistic issue. SueG then said we should save the money and tie it to the roof of the car.
SueG: "Think what a good blog story that would be."
SOLD. Paul let us try to move the mattress in the store so we could see if I was able to do it, but Sydney and SueG could do it and so we set off to pick up the mattress at another Mattress Firm. Apparently Mattress Firm is on more street corners than Walgreens or CVS. Who knew? The fact that there are two or more across from each other had to do with buying out other mattress stores and agreeing to take over those stores. Strangely, we didn't question that and headed south. At the store John, sales guy number 3, had us drive around the back down an alley where he attached the mattress to the top of SueG's van.
While John was tying it down with rope with our verbal help Madison face timed me on my phone. I answered so that I could tell her that I would have to call her back.
Madison: "Where are you? It looks very suspicious like an alley."
Me: "We are at Mattress Firm tying a new mattress to the roof of SueG's van to save $70 in delivery fees."
Madison: "It looks like a very shady deal."
Me: "Well, it is and now we are going to tie Sydney to the mattress and the roof to hold it all together."
I promised to call her back later and we thanked John, signed away our lives on some forms he had, and headed to The Condo...without Sydney on the roof, although we agreed that would have made a better blog entry. About halfway to The Condo I realized I didn't have keys to the place and we had to make a detour to my house to retrieve those. Every few minutes SueG would ask if the mattress was still attached, and I would look out my side of the window and Sydney would look out her side of the window and we would give SueG the thumbs up.
Once at The Condo it took me longer to cut through John's ropes then it did to haul the mattress up the stairs to the second floor condo. My mother's neighbor, who is a sweetheart, immediately popped out of his condo to assist in the carrying. He and SueG took an end and up the stairs they went with me following behind snapping photos.
Neighbor: "Why's you taking pictures?"
SueG: "For her blog."
Neighbor: "I don't know what that is, but I hope she gets my good side."
From there it was a breeze into The Condo and on to the box springs where Sydney and I promptly jumped on it to make sure it was as comfy in there as it was in the store. Once we agreed it was going to work just fine we left it there to breathe.
And then we went out to dinner where we spent $70 and agreed that food and booze was a better splurge than a mattress delivery.
Wednesday, February 03, 2016
And the ending isn't so happy
So while writing yesterday's entry and reading the newspaper clipping I decided to see if I could locate the girl that I rescued. Stacey was a part of my life while I worked at the pool just as she had been before the incident. We were all friendly with the parents and kids on the swim team and we hung out with them and went to events with each other. Sadly, the child's mother died. She contracted AIDS through a blood transfusion and didn't know it until it was too late. We were all there for her and her husband as she fought the disease, but she didn't win. We all attended her funeral. Before she died she thanked me again and reminded me that saving a life makes you a guardian angel over the person you saved. I took that responsibility to heart. The children's father would not allow the stepfather to have custody of the kids so they went to live with their aunt who continued, along with grandpa, to bring Stacey to swim practice.
Eventually the drive to practice was too hard and the kids transferred to another pool closer to home. I followed her swimming career in the paper and I kept in touch with the stepfather who would give me updates on Stacey, but eventually he too lost contact as she and her brother grew up. She and her grandfather were always at the back of my mind any time I passed by the pool or thought of the relationship between grandchildren and grandparents or passed by the street where she had once lived. I always wondered what had become of her and since this trip down memory lane brought her to the forefront of my brain I set about to find her.
She was nine when the incident happened and so I figured she would be on Facebook, and I started there. I typed in her birth name and immediately someone else's page came up mentioning Stacey in a tribute BECAUSE SHE WAS DEAD. What the hell? What kind of ending to a story is that? I did some more research online and read her obituary and found she died in 2011. I don't know how. I found her aunt on Facebook and through her page found Stacey's husband's page. He had pictures, and I got to scroll through them looking at the adult I never got to meet. In many of them she is in water, at the beach, or on boats. I like to think I helped give her her love of the water. She looks very happy in the pictures and so I'm taking that with me instead of anything else. I'm sorry that her young life was cut short, but I'm also glad that I knew her.
As for the junior coach who was with me that day...he became a lifeguard and worked with me for several summers. We had a friendship born from that day and experience. He finished college and became a pediatrician, is married with children of his own.
Eventually the drive to practice was too hard and the kids transferred to another pool closer to home. I followed her swimming career in the paper and I kept in touch with the stepfather who would give me updates on Stacey, but eventually he too lost contact as she and her brother grew up. She and her grandfather were always at the back of my mind any time I passed by the pool or thought of the relationship between grandchildren and grandparents or passed by the street where she had once lived. I always wondered what had become of her and since this trip down memory lane brought her to the forefront of my brain I set about to find her.
She was nine when the incident happened and so I figured she would be on Facebook, and I started there. I typed in her birth name and immediately someone else's page came up mentioning Stacey in a tribute BECAUSE SHE WAS DEAD. What the hell? What kind of ending to a story is that? I did some more research online and read her obituary and found she died in 2011. I don't know how. I found her aunt on Facebook and through her page found Stacey's husband's page. He had pictures, and I got to scroll through them looking at the adult I never got to meet. In many of them she is in water, at the beach, or on boats. I like to think I helped give her her love of the water. She looks very happy in the pictures and so I'm taking that with me instead of anything else. I'm sorry that her young life was cut short, but I'm also glad that I knew her.
As for the junior coach who was with me that day...he became a lifeguard and worked with me for several summers. We had a friendship born from that day and experience. He finished college and became a pediatrician, is married with children of his own.
Tuesday, February 02, 2016
Keepsakes - to a time when I did something right
Yesterday while searching through my filing cabinet of old files looking for something, I stumbled upon something else; a file of my "working" days as a city lifeguard. In the file was an envelope full of accolades and papers regarding an incident that occurred one day while I was on duty. I opened it and went through it, and when I was done strolling down memory lane, I put it aside to blog about it because one, while I remember the incident very clearly I hadn't remembered all of the nice cards I received from it, and two, because while my girls have heard the story about what happened they haven't seen all of this stuff.
As I go through my mother's keepsakes and memories I wish I knew more of the story behind things. As a kid I knew my mother was once a teacher, but to grasp who she was or what she did as a teacher wasn't something I could fully understand as a child. And while I got it more as an adult and listened more to her stories, I still don't know it all.
I know the same holds true for my girls. They see me as "mom" the woman who cooks and cleans, carts them around town, and loves them unconditionally. I'm not a working person in their eyes and so to understand who I was before I became their mom isn't something they spend a lot of time thinking about. I get it. I understand because I'm not that same person that I was back in those days either. Finding these keepsakes, and not remembering a lot of it, got me thinking that I really should share the information with them so that someday they too wouldn't wonder. And then I thought, "What the hell, I have a blog. I'll toot my own horn on it and they will then be able to look back on it!" So here is a new theme: Keepsakes and here is the first entry:
I was on deck lifeguarding in 1993. The swim team was practicing with its junior coach while the head coach was off in our shelter having a meeting with parents. The junior coach had the kids racing to see how far they could get without taking a breath. It's one of the things I hate that swim coaches do, and it's something I did not do when I was coaching. I hated it before then and I really hate it now. In fact Darcy doesn't usually tell me when they do it because she knows it makes me come unhinged.
One of the swimmers, a young girl that I had taught a few years back and had recommended for the swim team, dove off and started swimming. I watched her swim 25 yards without a breath, flip, and start back. More than halfway through the second 25 yards I think she lost her breath, but her body kept on going. When she got to the wall her arms kept moving, and I can remember the junior coach leaning over the block to yell at her, asking her what she was doing. That's when she began to sink. I will never forget the look on the coach's face as he looked up at me with a huge question mark.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was out of my guard chair, kicking off my sandals, and blowing the whistle for back-up from the guard house. I remembered yelling that I needed help. I remember yelling at the coach to grab her arms. I remember running around the diving area, pushing the coach, who was frozen, out of my way, climbing over the rope that hadn't been taken down from across the starting blocks, lying on my front and reaching down into the pool for the child's arms. I remember talking aloud as I went through the procedures that I had taught so many times to students in my lifeguarding class; pull out the child, watch her head, get her on land. I had to pull her under the stupid rope and over the ledge of the pool. I got her on her back and knelt down to assess her. She wasn't breathing and her lips and the skin around her lips were blue. I remember thinking that she could not die on me as I had known her too long.
The junior coach, and by now the head coach, and the other swimmers were crowded around us. I tilted her head back as I had practiced so many times before, and I went through everything I had been taught and that I had taught for so many years. As I bent over to begin breathing for her, the opening of her airway by my tilting her head gave her enough air and she sucked in a breath, but there was too much water and she choked. I turned her on her side and helped her expel the water, but she wasn't breathing again. I turned her back and repeated my opening of the airway, pinching of the nose, leaning over to breath, and suddenly she inhaled. Her eyes popped open and she sat up her arms taking over in the crawl stroke as if she were still in the pool.
Everything after that is a blur. My co-workers got her to her feet and took her inside to the guard station and called 911. The fire department just across the parking lot and the paramedics were there in an instant, but they didn't have a pediatric cuff and had to call another squad so that our parking lot was full of fire engines and ambulances. I remember shaking so uncontrollably that the paramedics took a look at me. I remember them shaking my hand and telling me I had done a remarkable thing; that most of the time when they got those calls it was too late. The child's grandfather, who was always her ride to swim team was there, but was very confused about what had happened. The one thing I will not forget is the girl's mother arriving.
She came into the guard room running, screaming her daughter's name, her eyes wild. She threw her arms around her daughter, and then when she realized her kid was just fine, she looked around the room quickly. When her eyes landed on me, she was running again, and she threw her arms around me and hugged me tighter than I have ever been hugged before. She thanked me and thanked me and thanked me. I remember feeling embarrassed and telling her it was my job. I remember her pulling back, looking at me with tears running down her cheeks, and telling me I had saved her child from death. She told me she would never forget what I had done. Then I was in tears and we stood that way for a long time hugging and crying.
I had nightmares for several days. It was certainly not my first rescue, and it wouldn't be my last, but it was by far the most serious one. I was nominated and then honored as the city's Employee of the Quarter. The newspaper wrote a blurb about it, misspelling Cara with Kara. Eventually I would be honored as the city's Employee of the Year and have to travel around to various organizations to accept certificates and plaques and eat a lot of rubber chicken. I used it as a platform to speak about lifeguarding, something I don't think other winners had done. I gave multiple speeches and they were damn good and wouldn't you know it, those aren't in the file.
What was in the file were the clippings, the program from the banquets, my commendation letter, the various letters announcing my selections, and congratulation cards from family and friends. I didn't remember any of it. There was a nice card and message from my brother. A card from my sister. And a card from a former co-worker and a friend who wrote this:
"You're mom called me Thursday to tell me about your rescue. I thought I was going to cry --it's just so scary when you think about how close a child has come. I can't even imagine all the things you must have been and still are feeling. (I hope I never really have to find out for myself). "Congratulations" didn't really seem like exactly the right word...I always felt like you could handle it...you always worked well under pressure or in a panic. I'm just so glad you were there! If only all lifeguards really took this job as seriously as you do (as they should) it'd be so much safer! Really, Cara, I've always felt like you're the very best lifeguard I've ever known (and we've gone through quite a few, huh?). I just get so choked up when I think about that little girl's parents an how they must think of you. You should be so proud of yourself, Cara, you've been through the scariest thing of all and you did it! On the days when things don't seem to be going as well as you'd like, perhaps if you think about this time, all the other worries won't seem so big and you can feel good about yourself and the job you do and know that you are and what you do is very important! I hope I do half as good a job as you. Thanks!" Love, Joan.
I have no memory of this nice card, but I'm sure glad I kept it. I suppose that is why we keep this stuff so that we can go back and relive those nice moments when things were good, or we did good. While I have kept more than my fair share of nonsense I will hold on to this stuff so that my girls will see it someday and maybe feel proud that their mother did work at something and did accomplish something more than being just their mom.
As I go through my mother's keepsakes and memories I wish I knew more of the story behind things. As a kid I knew my mother was once a teacher, but to grasp who she was or what she did as a teacher wasn't something I could fully understand as a child. And while I got it more as an adult and listened more to her stories, I still don't know it all.
I know the same holds true for my girls. They see me as "mom" the woman who cooks and cleans, carts them around town, and loves them unconditionally. I'm not a working person in their eyes and so to understand who I was before I became their mom isn't something they spend a lot of time thinking about. I get it. I understand because I'm not that same person that I was back in those days either. Finding these keepsakes, and not remembering a lot of it, got me thinking that I really should share the information with them so that someday they too wouldn't wonder. And then I thought, "What the hell, I have a blog. I'll toot my own horn on it and they will then be able to look back on it!" So here is a new theme: Keepsakes and here is the first entry:
To a time when I was at the right place at the right time and I did it right:
I was on deck lifeguarding in 1993. The swim team was practicing with its junior coach while the head coach was off in our shelter having a meeting with parents. The junior coach had the kids racing to see how far they could get without taking a breath. It's one of the things I hate that swim coaches do, and it's something I did not do when I was coaching. I hated it before then and I really hate it now. In fact Darcy doesn't usually tell me when they do it because she knows it makes me come unhinged.
One of the swimmers, a young girl that I had taught a few years back and had recommended for the swim team, dove off and started swimming. I watched her swim 25 yards without a breath, flip, and start back. More than halfway through the second 25 yards I think she lost her breath, but her body kept on going. When she got to the wall her arms kept moving, and I can remember the junior coach leaning over the block to yell at her, asking her what she was doing. That's when she began to sink. I will never forget the look on the coach's face as he looked up at me with a huge question mark.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was out of my guard chair, kicking off my sandals, and blowing the whistle for back-up from the guard house. I remembered yelling that I needed help. I remember yelling at the coach to grab her arms. I remember running around the diving area, pushing the coach, who was frozen, out of my way, climbing over the rope that hadn't been taken down from across the starting blocks, lying on my front and reaching down into the pool for the child's arms. I remember talking aloud as I went through the procedures that I had taught so many times to students in my lifeguarding class; pull out the child, watch her head, get her on land. I had to pull her under the stupid rope and over the ledge of the pool. I got her on her back and knelt down to assess her. She wasn't breathing and her lips and the skin around her lips were blue. I remember thinking that she could not die on me as I had known her too long.
The junior coach, and by now the head coach, and the other swimmers were crowded around us. I tilted her head back as I had practiced so many times before, and I went through everything I had been taught and that I had taught for so many years. As I bent over to begin breathing for her, the opening of her airway by my tilting her head gave her enough air and she sucked in a breath, but there was too much water and she choked. I turned her on her side and helped her expel the water, but she wasn't breathing again. I turned her back and repeated my opening of the airway, pinching of the nose, leaning over to breath, and suddenly she inhaled. Her eyes popped open and she sat up her arms taking over in the crawl stroke as if she were still in the pool.
Everything after that is a blur. My co-workers got her to her feet and took her inside to the guard station and called 911. The fire department just across the parking lot and the paramedics were there in an instant, but they didn't have a pediatric cuff and had to call another squad so that our parking lot was full of fire engines and ambulances. I remember shaking so uncontrollably that the paramedics took a look at me. I remember them shaking my hand and telling me I had done a remarkable thing; that most of the time when they got those calls it was too late. The child's grandfather, who was always her ride to swim team was there, but was very confused about what had happened. The one thing I will not forget is the girl's mother arriving.
She came into the guard room running, screaming her daughter's name, her eyes wild. She threw her arms around her daughter, and then when she realized her kid was just fine, she looked around the room quickly. When her eyes landed on me, she was running again, and she threw her arms around me and hugged me tighter than I have ever been hugged before. She thanked me and thanked me and thanked me. I remember feeling embarrassed and telling her it was my job. I remember her pulling back, looking at me with tears running down her cheeks, and telling me I had saved her child from death. She told me she would never forget what I had done. Then I was in tears and we stood that way for a long time hugging and crying.
I had nightmares for several days. It was certainly not my first rescue, and it wouldn't be my last, but it was by far the most serious one. I was nominated and then honored as the city's Employee of the Quarter. The newspaper wrote a blurb about it, misspelling Cara with Kara. Eventually I would be honored as the city's Employee of the Year and have to travel around to various organizations to accept certificates and plaques and eat a lot of rubber chicken. I used it as a platform to speak about lifeguarding, something I don't think other winners had done. I gave multiple speeches and they were damn good and wouldn't you know it, those aren't in the file.
What was in the file were the clippings, the program from the banquets, my commendation letter, the various letters announcing my selections, and congratulation cards from family and friends. I didn't remember any of it. There was a nice card and message from my brother. A card from my sister. And a card from a former co-worker and a friend who wrote this:
"You're mom called me Thursday to tell me about your rescue. I thought I was going to cry --it's just so scary when you think about how close a child has come. I can't even imagine all the things you must have been and still are feeling. (I hope I never really have to find out for myself). "Congratulations" didn't really seem like exactly the right word...I always felt like you could handle it...you always worked well under pressure or in a panic. I'm just so glad you were there! If only all lifeguards really took this job as seriously as you do (as they should) it'd be so much safer! Really, Cara, I've always felt like you're the very best lifeguard I've ever known (and we've gone through quite a few, huh?). I just get so choked up when I think about that little girl's parents an how they must think of you. You should be so proud of yourself, Cara, you've been through the scariest thing of all and you did it! On the days when things don't seem to be going as well as you'd like, perhaps if you think about this time, all the other worries won't seem so big and you can feel good about yourself and the job you do and know that you are and what you do is very important! I hope I do half as good a job as you. Thanks!" Love, Joan.
I have no memory of this nice card, but I'm sure glad I kept it. I suppose that is why we keep this stuff so that we can go back and relive those nice moments when things were good, or we did good. While I have kept more than my fair share of nonsense I will hold on to this stuff so that my girls will see it someday and maybe feel proud that their mother did work at something and did accomplish something more than being just their mom.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Dog ownership hazard #52
At Christmas we had a nice beef roast and my husband saved several of the bones for Elliot. He froze a few of them and last Monday pulled one out of the tundra to thaw for a treat. He went out on the back patio with Elliot figuring he could read while the dog gnawed. I was sitting at my desk trying to clean it some and I saw Elliot come inside out of the corner of my eye. A few seconds later I saw Tom follow him inside. A couple of seconds later the dog walked by again and went out the door. Then came Tom. I was too engrossed in my chore that I didn't register anything abnormal. I heard Tom talk to the dog, but again, I went on with what I was doing. Then the dog came in again, followed by Tom. When the dog returned and exited again with Tom at his heels I asked what was happening.
Tom's face was full of anguish. "I think the dog has a bone stuck in his mouth." He sighed. "I can't believe it."
I immediately took action. I freaked out. "WHAT? WHAT? What do you mean stuck in his mouth? On the roof? In his throat? Is he going to die? Is he crying? What are you doing? What should we do? Oh, god, this is why we shouldn't have a dog! All of the manuals say not to give dogs real bones."
But I was talking to the air because Tom was once again outside with the dog, and so I stood in the doorway and shouted it all over again in case he had missed it the first time. By this time Darcy was outside and she and Tom dealt with trying to remove the bone which was lodged over his canine tooth on the bottom of his mouth. He, of course, wanted nothing to do with these humans sticking their fingers in his mouth or messing with his mouth at all. He would get away from them and frantically try to use his tongue to dislodge the bone that was sticking in in such a way that Elliot could not close his mouth.
I refused to do anything physical. Instead I barked orders. "Darcy, pick him up. Hold his mouth open. Do you want tweezers?" I got tweezers and suggested Tom call the vet. It was 5:20 pm. on a Monday at this point, but the vet answered. Tom was having a deep conversation with the office that to me seemed to go on forever and so I interrupted. "Why are you standing here talking? Get in the car and talk to them at the office." I made Darcy go with him and I shooed them out the door.
They were back within forty five minutes and Elliot was happy and smiling. Darcy was covered in beef dog slobber and immediately went into the shower. Tom looked like he had been involved in a dramatic rescue that included heroic actions. I asked how it went first from him.
Tom: "It took no time at all. The vet just popped it right off. I mean, I could have done it myself. I just couldn't hold Elliot at the same time. His tooth went right through the bone and got stuck. Dogs teeth are so strong. I just couldn't get to it because he wouldn't let me. The lady took him back and she was back before I could finish filling out the paperwork. It was that quick."
Darcy, entering the room from her shower, rolled her eyes. I figured there was more to the story so I asked.
Darcy: "First of all, you couldn't have gotten it out Dad. We tried. I was holding Elliot and you were too afraid to stick your hand in his mouth. You were afraid he was going to bite you. I was afraid of that too. And if you want my opinion, you filled out the paperwork really terrible. No one is going to be able to read the gibberish you wrote on those forms."
Tom: "Well, they wanted my social security number. And they asked for my address and my phone number. Why would they need all of that? I didn't think I needed to fill out that stuff."
Darcy: "For their records. But they won't be able to read what you filled out. I'm telling you. It was awful. The lady came and got Elliot and left us to fill out the forms. She brought him right back to us in like a minute. That's how easy they did it. We had to stay and finish filling out the paperwork. That took longer than anything."
It all seemed very odd to me and upon further questioning I discovered that they hadn't gone to our vet. While on the phone with our vet they had sent him to the after hours emergency vet clinic because they were backed up and closed at our office. Darcy, while holding a slobbering and frantic Elliot, had had to find the clinic address on her phone and direct Tom to the place.
Darcy: "Yeah. And Dad says to the lady that he just needs someone to hold Elliot and then he can get the bone off. Like I wasn't already holding Elliot and he hadn't already tried to get the bone off. The lady looked at him like he was nuts and said the doctor would take care of it, sit down and fill out these forms. Which he made a mess of. He couldn't even get our address right."
I told her privately later to stop picking on her dad since he had been scared and not thinking clearly.
Sort of how I act when I deal with children emergencies. Like the time I had to drive to the ER with both girls to take Darcy in with a head wound. Just one of the reason why I stay out of the dog business when Tom is home. I figure its his turn with the son.
Tom mentioned later that there had been no charge for the visit. "I mean we weren't there longer than five minutes. Why would they charge for that? I could have gotten it off myself if the lady had just held Elliot."
I smiled and didn't bother to tell him that's why they had had him fill out the paperwork. I'm sure a bill will arrive any day now. Or maybe not. Because Tom's handwriting was illegible. Either way our dog was saved! Whew.
Friday, January 29, 2016
Saturday at The Condo - Part II
I dialed the three digit number that got me into the land of the cable company and pushed the prompt buttons that got me to a representative while my husband turned on the cable dvr box above the television. The message telling us we were not authorized to use the cable box was still there. A female voice answered my call and told me her name was Shannon. She asked me to verify the address of the account and the name on the account and proceeded to refer to me as my mother the rest of the conversation.
I sat down, zoned out for awhile, and came back to hear Tom repeat what Shannon was telling him; that we had to switch out the cable dvr box. She told him we could do this at the nearest cable store in Clearwater Mall. Now we have two malls in Clearwater and those of us that have lived here longer than ten years refer to them as Countryside Mall and Clearwater Mall which is what they were called back in the day. They have since changed ownership and Countryside, which isn't far from The Condo, is now Westfield Countryside Mall. When Tom said Clearwater Mall and changing the box I pictured Countryside Mall because in the back of my mind I remembered my friend SueG telling me that her husband had to drive to Countryside five different times when dealing with their cable box.
Shannon: "What can I help you today with, Mrs. M?"
Me: "My cable box on my second television is telling me I'm not authorized to use the box."
Shannon: "Oh, my, well let's pull that up and check on it. It looks like it has been asleep for some time and when that happens we usually just need to reboot it."
While she was talking the box would go off and Tom would push the on button to retrieve the message again. Shannon told me she was going to reboot the box on her end and so I told Tom to stop messing with it. He ignored me and kept turning it on when it would go off. I kept whispering to him to stop it and he kept waving at me to stop worrying about what he was doing.
Me: "Ok, Shannon, my husband keeps messing with the buttons on the box. Should he be doing that?"
Shannon: "If he could just let it go while I reboot it that would be fine."
Me: "Stop it! Tom! Stop it. She says to let her mess with it now."
Shannon: "Just tell me when anything changes on your TV."
Me: "Okay. So far nothing is changing. Well, now it went off."
Tom: "It isn't going off. It's going into stand-by mode."
Me: "My husband says its going into stand-by-mode."
Shannon: "I see that. Let me reboot it again. This will take one to two minutes."
She and I discussed the weather for two minutes. She rebooted it again and we talked more about the weather. Tom went back to pushing buttons.
Shannon: "Are you able to get behind the box by any chance?"
Me: "Let me pass you over to my husband because he can do that and because he isn't listening to me about turning the box off and on."
Shannon: "Oh. Okay, well..."
Shannon: "Oh. Okay, well..."
Tom: "I don't want the phone."
Me: "She needs you to do something to the back of the box."
Tom: "I can do that."
I handed him the phone and he began to talk to her. At one point he called her by another name and that seemed to be the last straw for me. I burst out laughing and couldn't stop. I told him her name was Shannon. As usual, he did not believe me so he asked her if her name was the name he had called her. She corrected him. Her name was Shannon. He admitted defeat and the two of them started messing with the box. I got up and began moving furniture around. About five minutes into that I realized that the TV which had been on in the living room was not making any noise. I went out to check it and reported back that the cable box was beeping and the TV was counting down to something. The TV in the bedroom was also counting down and Tom was reporting the countdown to Shannon.
I sat down, zoned out for awhile, and came back to hear Tom repeat what Shannon was telling him; that we had to switch out the cable dvr box. She told him we could do this at the nearest cable store in Clearwater Mall. Now we have two malls in Clearwater and those of us that have lived here longer than ten years refer to them as Countryside Mall and Clearwater Mall which is what they were called back in the day. They have since changed ownership and Countryside, which isn't far from The Condo, is now Westfield Countryside Mall. When Tom said Clearwater Mall and changing the box I pictured Countryside Mall because in the back of my mind I remembered my friend SueG telling me that her husband had to drive to Countryside five different times when dealing with their cable box.
Tom: "We have to change out the box."
Me: "Well, that's annoying. I'm paying for that box. Is she going to credit me?"
Tom: "We can ask that. Let's clean up here and go do that."
Me: "Really? You want to do that now?"
Tom: "Don't you? Get it over with? She said they are open until nine."
Me: "I suppose so. I just thought you wouldn't want to do that and come back here to hook it all up."
Tom: "I wasn't planning on doing that, but I guess it makes sense."
Me: "I really do appreciate you helping me out today and doing all of this."
Tom: "You said you wanted me to take down the waterbed. I wasn't planning on all of this other stuff."
Me: "You should have just accepted the compliment."
We cleaned up, grabbed the box, and got into the car, Tom at the wheel.
Me: "Where are you going?"
Tom: "To Clearwater Mall."
Me: "It's at Countryside Mall."
Tom: "No. She said Clearwater Mall."
Me: "I know that, but I'm pretty sure that SueG told me that they had to go to Countryside Mall."
Tom: "The lady told me Clearwater Mall so that's where I'm going."
Clearwater Mall is a good twenty minutes south of the other mall and so I took out my phone as we drove and tried to find information. It took me awhile and when I found the information on places to exchange equipment it said "Clearwater/Countryside Mall" and gave an address and directions which led to Countryside Mall. I relayed this to my husband as he came up to the turn to the road to the wrong mall. I told him to get into the U-turn lane. He ignored me and got in the left lane.
Me: "We have to turn around and go to Countryside."
Tom: "Call them to make sure."
Me: "What? Babe. I'm on the site now. Look. It says Countryside."
Tom: "It says Clearwater/Countryside and Shannon told me Clearwater Mall. Just call the phone number and make sure."
Me: "Why can't you just trust me?"
Tom: "Because you don't know. Just call to make sure. How hard is that?"
Me: "Damn hard because all it gives me is an address and the hours, but no phone number. The directions are to Countryside Mall."
Tom: "Give me the phone."
I handed the phone to him so he could read for himself, but somehow in the passing of the phone he lost the information. I had to look it all up again as he turned into the wrong mall. I pulled up the Bright House site and pushed the "Call Us" button and handed him the phone. Of course he didn't get a human and had to keep saying, "Representative", which made me think of the commercial, which set me off in a fit of giggles, which annoyed him. He finally told the system he wanted sales and got a male human. Of course we were at the wrong mall which set Tom off. He started telling the guy that they should know their information better. I reminded him that the male wasn't Shannon and hadn't sent us the wrong way. The male was unfazed and wanted to know the problem and could he sell us better cable. Eventually Tom and I were laughing so hard we didn't think we could stop.
We hung up with the guy, turned around, and headed back the way we had just come. As we drove we discussed how we would handle the exchange. I didn't want it to be known that I wasn't my mom. Tom didn't think they would ask. I was sure they would ask for ID. We talked about changing everything, the price, the account, but decided that would need to be for another time. Once at the mall we had to guess where to park since we didn't know where inside the mall the store was located. We parked where I always park and found that for once that day we were right. The store was upstairs from where we had parked and we went up and in.
There was no one waiting in line and five customer service people. The woman took us immediately. Tom laid down the device and told her we needed to switch it out for an upgrade via Shannon. She told us no problem and scanned the device into her computer.
Bright House Lady: "Hmmm...let's see. That didn't work."
She scanned it again and when that didn't work she punched the barcode number in manually. She asked for the phone number associated with the account and then asked for the name on the account. I gave her all of that.
BH Lady: "I'm not showing this device at all in our system."
Me: "Okay, well the Bright House tech lady on the phone had it on her screen. I'm paying for it, aren't I?"
BH Lady: "I'm only showing one device on your account actually. Do you have another one?"
Me: "Yes. I have two. One at home and this one."
BH Lady: "Was this device working? Because I'm showing it isn't even in our system."
Tom and I started laughing. I laid my head down on the counter and pounded it. She called over another employee. He punched in some numbers.
BH Man: "This device was on your television?"
Me: "Yes."
BH Man: "And it worked?"
Tom: "No. It wasn't working that's why we are here."
Me: "But it did work. At one time."
BH Lady: "How long ago was that?"
Tom: "Christmas?"
Me: "We really don't know. I was told it wasn't working at Christmas time, but don't know when it worked before that."
BH Man: "Because it is showing that this device was lost. In our system this device is marked lost."
Me: "Well, we found it. Here it is. On my television where it has been hooked up for years."
BH Lady: "It is showing that this box has been lost since 2013."
Me: "Well, I can tell you that it worked in 2013. It worked in 2014."
BH Man: "It did?"
Me: "The Bright House lady on the phone had it up on her screen. She rebooted it."
BH Lady: "She rebooted it from her end? Or you rebooted it?"
Me: "She tried from her end, but it didn't work. She did it twice."
Tom: "Then I rebooted it. That's when she told us to come in and exchange it."
BH Lady: "Okay, well, this device was not hooked up to your television. It couldn't have been. That's why she couldn't reboot it and had you do it."
BH Man: "It hasn't worked since 2013. Did you change out devices then maybe? Upgrade to HD?"
Tom: "Well, this is her mother's account."
BH Lady: "And it works for her?"
Tom: "Well, um,..........she's dead."
BH Employees: "Oh! Oh sorry. Sure. How long?"
Me: "No, no the device worked when my mother was alive in 2014. After that I couldn't tell ya."
Tom: "We've been cleaning up stuff at her place all day. We're tired."
BH Lady: "I'm sorry. Do you want a new device?"
And suddenly we were doing everything we said we wouldn't do. We talked about the account and changing it. The lady needed the death certificate just like I had told Tom, but she did lower my bill and we did discover that the TV would work hooked up to a cable since the association forks out cable money for a handful of channels. We left there laughing, happy to have lowered our bill. Tom left her with the antique Roadrunner kit which he had insisted on bringing and which she found fascinating.
We went back to The Condo and hooked up the TV to the cable coming out of the wall. It worked. I was leaving the room and reminded Tom that he had to turn off the light at the fan. I was pooped and ready to get some dinner and go home.
Tom: "Why do I have to turn off the light right here? What's wrong with the switch?"
Me: "Who cares? It hasn't worked in years. Turn it off and let's go eat."
Tom: "Why is there tape on the light switch on the wall?"
Me: "Because it doesn't work. Because my mom didn't want anyone messing with it. Frankly, I just don't even remember anymore why there is tape. Who cares?"
Tom: "Do you care if I look at? Where's that electric meter we found earlier? I can check the wires with that."
I let him. I figured what the hell. I need the man to mess with another electric issue later down the road and I figured maybe all of it was connected so what the hell. I got the meter and he took off the plate and tested the wires. They were dead. He then went over to the fan/light and started following the cord. That led to him noticing that there were live wires capped off outside the fan at the base leading into the ceiling. He ranted and raved about that for some time shaking his head. I didn't want to tell him that I think it had been that way since he last looked into changing out the fan because I vaguely remembered that. I told him not to worry about it tonight.
Me: "Lets pack up and go get food."
Tom: "Those are live wires. That's so...well, I can't even begin to tell you how stupid that is. Where's the attic?"
Me: "The what? There isn't an attic."
Tom: "Of course there is an attic. How do you get into it?"
Me: "Why of course there is an attic. How do you know there is an attic?"
Tom: "Because there is always an attic."
Me: "What kind of an answer is that?"
He was already moving. He checked the laundry room. He checked the guest bedroom and that closet. He checked the bathroom. I checked the hall closet. All the time I was telling him there wasn't an attic. All of the time he was telling me there had to be one. Suddenly as we stood in the hallway looking at each other I vaguely remembered...well, an attic entrance.
Me: "We should try my mom's bedroom closet because if there is going to be an entrance to an attic it would be there. Actually now that I think about it there is one."
And there was. I got Tom a step stool. He wanted to peek into the attic and see if he could see where the wires for the light switch were running. The stool didn't get him very high so he climbed on top of the handle of the step stool and I held the bottom step so he wouldn't tumble over. He opened the entrance and just barely could peek his head into it. It was quite large, but dark as night.
Tom: "What's all this stuff up here?"
Me: "What stuff? There's nothing up there."
Tom: "There is all sorts of stuff up here. Boxes."
Me: "WHAT?"
And immediately this is what went through my mind at warp speed:
"Holy, mother of god, my mother has hidden things in an attic that I didn't remember existed. She has hidden boxes of cash. Millions and thousands of dollars in cash. No. It can't be cash. It's coins. Gold. Treasure. I told her she should do this before she died and she did. But...wait. I told her that the day before she went into hospice. She couldn't have done it. But she did and she didn't tell me. That's not like her. What if I had never gone up here."
And then Tom leaned up in the attic and pulled down this little travel suitcase that looked like something from the 1960's. I didn't recognize it at all and was disappointed when I saw it. But then more treasure, money, coins, and cash went flying through my mind, and I was thinking about how exciting it all would be and what I would spend it all on, and then Tom opened it so that only he could see into the suitcase and he burst out laughing.
Me: "What? What? What is it? What's in there? Is something in there? Is it empty?"
Tom: "No. It's full."
Me: "What's in there? What is it? Is it money?"
Tom: "It's fate."
And he turned it around so that I could see the knitting materials inside the box. It was full of yarn, thread, knitting needles, and a croquet needle. There were pouches of patterns yellowed with age and a book on how to knit and croquet that cost $.35. It did not belong to my mother. He kept laughing and now I was the one not in the mood for that. I was tired and hurting and was not able to see the humor in the knitting box despite the fact that my own new knitting hobby bag was in the other room.
He pulled down another little suitcase; this one blue. The seam of the lid had popped on this case and foamy stuffing was falling out of it. That case was empty. He pulled down a large, under the bed, box that was full of lady's elastic pants and capris, the elastic disintegrating with age, and yellowed baby outfits. Not exactly the treasure this greedy, tired, woman was looking for. It also did not belong to my mom. I have no idea who it belonged to, obviously a former tenant. I wondered aloud if my mother or father had even ventured into this attic. I figured the cable guy had been up there and the bug man, but obviously no one mentioned the boxes in there.
Tom couldn't reach the other boxes or see into the darkened attic for wires or treasure. We agreed to call it a day and collected the stuff we had found. I mused aloud how the attic was now going to be another item on my to do list. Or rather Tom's list as he was taller. He reminded me again of how he was only there to to take down the waterbed. Tom put the light switch back on while I headed toward the exit.
Me: "Don't forget to turn the light off at the fan!"
Tom: "Let's not start with that again. That's what got us in trouble in the first place. That's the first thing I fix when I come back."
Well, at least he is willing to come back again. Whew!
Bright House Lady: "Hmmm...let's see. That didn't work."
She scanned it again and when that didn't work she punched the barcode number in manually. She asked for the phone number associated with the account and then asked for the name on the account. I gave her all of that.
BH Lady: "I'm not showing this device at all in our system."
Me: "Okay, well the Bright House tech lady on the phone had it on her screen. I'm paying for it, aren't I?"
BH Lady: "I'm only showing one device on your account actually. Do you have another one?"
Me: "Yes. I have two. One at home and this one."
BH Lady: "Was this device working? Because I'm showing it isn't even in our system."
Tom and I started laughing. I laid my head down on the counter and pounded it. She called over another employee. He punched in some numbers.
BH Man: "This device was on your television?"
Me: "Yes."
BH Man: "And it worked?"
Tom: "No. It wasn't working that's why we are here."
Me: "But it did work. At one time."
BH Lady: "How long ago was that?"
Tom: "Christmas?"
Me: "We really don't know. I was told it wasn't working at Christmas time, but don't know when it worked before that."
BH Man: "Because it is showing that this device was lost. In our system this device is marked lost."
Me: "Well, we found it. Here it is. On my television where it has been hooked up for years."
BH Lady: "It is showing that this box has been lost since 2013."
Me: "Well, I can tell you that it worked in 2013. It worked in 2014."
BH Man: "It did?"
Me: "The Bright House lady on the phone had it up on her screen. She rebooted it."
BH Lady: "She rebooted it from her end? Or you rebooted it?"
Me: "She tried from her end, but it didn't work. She did it twice."
Tom: "Then I rebooted it. That's when she told us to come in and exchange it."
BH Lady: "Okay, well, this device was not hooked up to your television. It couldn't have been. That's why she couldn't reboot it and had you do it."
BH Man: "It hasn't worked since 2013. Did you change out devices then maybe? Upgrade to HD?"
Tom: "Well, this is her mother's account."
BH Lady: "And it works for her?"
Tom: "Well, um,..........she's dead."
BH Employees: "Oh! Oh sorry. Sure. How long?"
Me: "No, no the device worked when my mother was alive in 2014. After that I couldn't tell ya."
Tom: "We've been cleaning up stuff at her place all day. We're tired."
BH Lady: "I'm sorry. Do you want a new device?"
And suddenly we were doing everything we said we wouldn't do. We talked about the account and changing it. The lady needed the death certificate just like I had told Tom, but she did lower my bill and we did discover that the TV would work hooked up to a cable since the association forks out cable money for a handful of channels. We left there laughing, happy to have lowered our bill. Tom left her with the antique Roadrunner kit which he had insisted on bringing and which she found fascinating.
We went back to The Condo and hooked up the TV to the cable coming out of the wall. It worked. I was leaving the room and reminded Tom that he had to turn off the light at the fan. I was pooped and ready to get some dinner and go home.
Tom: "Why do I have to turn off the light right here? What's wrong with the switch?"
Me: "Who cares? It hasn't worked in years. Turn it off and let's go eat."
Tom: "Why is there tape on the light switch on the wall?"
Me: "Because it doesn't work. Because my mom didn't want anyone messing with it. Frankly, I just don't even remember anymore why there is tape. Who cares?"
Tom: "Do you care if I look at? Where's that electric meter we found earlier? I can check the wires with that."
I let him. I figured what the hell. I need the man to mess with another electric issue later down the road and I figured maybe all of it was connected so what the hell. I got the meter and he took off the plate and tested the wires. They were dead. He then went over to the fan/light and started following the cord. That led to him noticing that there were live wires capped off outside the fan at the base leading into the ceiling. He ranted and raved about that for some time shaking his head. I didn't want to tell him that I think it had been that way since he last looked into changing out the fan because I vaguely remembered that. I told him not to worry about it tonight.
Me: "Lets pack up and go get food."
Tom: "Those are live wires. That's so...well, I can't even begin to tell you how stupid that is. Where's the attic?"
Me: "The what? There isn't an attic."
Tom: "Of course there is an attic. How do you get into it?"
Me: "Why of course there is an attic. How do you know there is an attic?"
Tom: "Because there is always an attic."
Me: "What kind of an answer is that?"
He was already moving. He checked the laundry room. He checked the guest bedroom and that closet. He checked the bathroom. I checked the hall closet. All the time I was telling him there wasn't an attic. All of the time he was telling me there had to be one. Suddenly as we stood in the hallway looking at each other I vaguely remembered...well, an attic entrance.
Me: "We should try my mom's bedroom closet because if there is going to be an entrance to an attic it would be there. Actually now that I think about it there is one."
And there was. I got Tom a step stool. He wanted to peek into the attic and see if he could see where the wires for the light switch were running. The stool didn't get him very high so he climbed on top of the handle of the step stool and I held the bottom step so he wouldn't tumble over. He opened the entrance and just barely could peek his head into it. It was quite large, but dark as night.
Tom: "What's all this stuff up here?"
Me: "What stuff? There's nothing up there."
Tom: "There is all sorts of stuff up here. Boxes."
Me: "WHAT?"
And immediately this is what went through my mind at warp speed:
"Holy, mother of god, my mother has hidden things in an attic that I didn't remember existed. She has hidden boxes of cash. Millions and thousands of dollars in cash. No. It can't be cash. It's coins. Gold. Treasure. I told her she should do this before she died and she did. But...wait. I told her that the day before she went into hospice. She couldn't have done it. But she did and she didn't tell me. That's not like her. What if I had never gone up here."
And then Tom leaned up in the attic and pulled down this little travel suitcase that looked like something from the 1960's. I didn't recognize it at all and was disappointed when I saw it. But then more treasure, money, coins, and cash went flying through my mind, and I was thinking about how exciting it all would be and what I would spend it all on, and then Tom opened it so that only he could see into the suitcase and he burst out laughing.
Me: "What? What? What is it? What's in there? Is something in there? Is it empty?"
Tom: "No. It's full."
Me: "What's in there? What is it? Is it money?"
Tom: "It's fate."
And he turned it around so that I could see the knitting materials inside the box. It was full of yarn, thread, knitting needles, and a croquet needle. There were pouches of patterns yellowed with age and a book on how to knit and croquet that cost $.35. It did not belong to my mother. He kept laughing and now I was the one not in the mood for that. I was tired and hurting and was not able to see the humor in the knitting box despite the fact that my own new knitting hobby bag was in the other room.
He pulled down another little suitcase; this one blue. The seam of the lid had popped on this case and foamy stuffing was falling out of it. That case was empty. He pulled down a large, under the bed, box that was full of lady's elastic pants and capris, the elastic disintegrating with age, and yellowed baby outfits. Not exactly the treasure this greedy, tired, woman was looking for. It also did not belong to my mom. I have no idea who it belonged to, obviously a former tenant. I wondered aloud if my mother or father had even ventured into this attic. I figured the cable guy had been up there and the bug man, but obviously no one mentioned the boxes in there.
Tom couldn't reach the other boxes or see into the darkened attic for wires or treasure. We agreed to call it a day and collected the stuff we had found. I mused aloud how the attic was now going to be another item on my to do list. Or rather Tom's list as he was taller. He reminded me again of how he was only there to to take down the waterbed. Tom put the light switch back on while I headed toward the exit.
Me: "Don't forget to turn the light off at the fan!"
Tom: "Let's not start with that again. That's what got us in trouble in the first place. That's the first thing I fix when I come back."
Well, at least he is willing to come back again. Whew!
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