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I went back to Goodwill and bought a roll-up keyboard, which I unbought the same day. Junk! They issued me a gift card and I bought some more LPs.
On Saturday I went to the Red Cross to give blood (double red; type O-). Took about 45 minutes to sign in and wait for my turn, after which things went well enough until I thought I heard, through my earphones, an instruction to bend my arm. Turns out she said "don't" bend my arm. Then the next time the machine started returning plasma to my arm, I started swelling up. I watched it for a few seconds, then the woman saw what was happening, turned off the machine, took everything out, squeezed extra blood out of my arm, bandaged me, put ice on it, and that was it. As they say, the way to pass a blood test is to bleed. I seem to have failed. Almost a week later, there's still some bruising in the area. Next time a blood worker says something I don't fully understand, I'll ask them to repeat it.
Went home. Rested. Mowed the lawn in preparation for being out of the house six days. Did some packing. Next morning, we said goodbye to the cat ("And remember, don't eat all your food up at once!") (Just kidding; she's being looked after.) and started the drive down to Cathy's mom's house in NJ. Sarah's getting marginally better at traveling, but still leaves much to be desired as a long-distance companion. We passed through construction slowdowns and endless merges that would have tested the patience of someone who actually had some, and finally arrived. Sarah headed for the pool, and Cathy and I lugged stuff into the house.
That night I slept on the screened-in deck porch. If the sofa had been six inches longer, it would have probably been a nice night, once the screaming drunk finally got into his pickup and roared off down the road. Next day, we drove some more to the shore house of Cathy's Uncle Al and Aunt Mary. They were great hosts. We went out in Al's boat, and when we got into open water, he turned off the motor and unfurled the jib, so we have actually been sailing now. Coming back, he sat Sarah on his lap and let her turn the wheel.
The next day was a big day. We headed out to the beach for my first ocean wading in about 50 years, and Sarah's first, period. For some reason, nobody heard me ask for the sun screen, and I gave up asking after a couple of times. In retrospect, I should have kept at it. Anyway, Sarah and I frolicked in the surf for about three hours, letting the big waves carry us toward the shore and then trying to find the next big wave. I rated them from one to three. We wanted threes. We drove home, and I was slightly pink. When I woke up the next morning, I was a bit pinker, and the pus-filled blisters had begun to form, mostly on my shoulders. Thanks to the fact I now wear short-sleeved shirts most of the time, my arms never became painfully red, and my legs were mostly in the water, so they were spared too.
The drive back up to Cathy's mom's house was somewhat uncomfortable. Things felt scratchy against my skin. I took it pretty easy and was granted the air mattress to sleep on. If I stayed motionless, the feeling went away after a while and I could sleep, so I got some sleep. We used skin cream and burn spray to try and moderate the discomfort, but I woke up ultimately a little worse.
Which brings us to yesterday, and the arrival of Cathy's sister and our niece, who are staying with Cathy's mom. We moved operations to the Wyndham, where even the soft bed and pillows didn't help after a while. From 3:30 to 5:00 am, I camped in a chair where gravity didn't push me down on the burn zones quite as hard, then I was able to get back in the bed. I felt better in the morning, and the blisters seem smaller. (I had worse blisters when I was about 12, and have managed to avoid them ever since by wary avoidance of the eye of the sky demon.) Cathy and Sarah have been in NYC with her sister, her mother, and our niece, taking in the Museum of Natural History. I had a plan to go to the Odyssia Gallery to try and see their Tricky Cad (more information on Tricky Cad can be seen at my flickr page, where I have some scans and photos I snagged off the web), but my present red, itchy state would be keeping me from that (and from the music store that was my second choice) even if it hadn't turned out to be closed for the summer, and even if they exhibited the work, which they don't, as light degrades it and has apparently already rendered two of Jess's masterful collages unviewable, according to the museum's curator.
So I'm just hanging out. Tomorrow we'll drive home, and I hope I'm up to it. Not that I have a choice. Also, the engine light in Cathy's car is lit up. She called Honda, and they said it was nothing. We'll see about that... eh, readers?
.
I went back to Goodwill and bought a roll-up keyboard, which I unbought the same day. Junk! They issued me a gift card and I bought some more LPs.
On Saturday I went to the Red Cross to give blood (double red; type O-). Took about 45 minutes to sign in and wait for my turn, after which things went well enough until I thought I heard, through my earphones, an instruction to bend my arm. Turns out she said "don't" bend my arm. Then the next time the machine started returning plasma to my arm, I started swelling up. I watched it for a few seconds, then the woman saw what was happening, turned off the machine, took everything out, squeezed extra blood out of my arm, bandaged me, put ice on it, and that was it. As they say, the way to pass a blood test is to bleed. I seem to have failed. Almost a week later, there's still some bruising in the area. Next time a blood worker says something I don't fully understand, I'll ask them to repeat it.
Went home. Rested. Mowed the lawn in preparation for being out of the house six days. Did some packing. Next morning, we said goodbye to the cat ("And remember, don't eat all your food up at once!") (Just kidding; she's being looked after.) and started the drive down to Cathy's mom's house in NJ. Sarah's getting marginally better at traveling, but still leaves much to be desired as a long-distance companion. We passed through construction slowdowns and endless merges that would have tested the patience of someone who actually had some, and finally arrived. Sarah headed for the pool, and Cathy and I lugged stuff into the house.
That night I slept on the screened-in deck porch. If the sofa had been six inches longer, it would have probably been a nice night, once the screaming drunk finally got into his pickup and roared off down the road. Next day, we drove some more to the shore house of Cathy's Uncle Al and Aunt Mary. They were great hosts. We went out in Al's boat, and when we got into open water, he turned off the motor and unfurled the jib, so we have actually been sailing now. Coming back, he sat Sarah on his lap and let her turn the wheel.
The next day was a big day. We headed out to the beach for my first ocean wading in about 50 years, and Sarah's first, period. For some reason, nobody heard me ask for the sun screen, and I gave up asking after a couple of times. In retrospect, I should have kept at it. Anyway, Sarah and I frolicked in the surf for about three hours, letting the big waves carry us toward the shore and then trying to find the next big wave. I rated them from one to three. We wanted threes. We drove home, and I was slightly pink. When I woke up the next morning, I was a bit pinker, and the pus-filled blisters had begun to form, mostly on my shoulders. Thanks to the fact I now wear short-sleeved shirts most of the time, my arms never became painfully red, and my legs were mostly in the water, so they were spared too.
The drive back up to Cathy's mom's house was somewhat uncomfortable. Things felt scratchy against my skin. I took it pretty easy and was granted the air mattress to sleep on. If I stayed motionless, the feeling went away after a while and I could sleep, so I got some sleep. We used skin cream and burn spray to try and moderate the discomfort, but I woke up ultimately a little worse.
Which brings us to yesterday, and the arrival of Cathy's sister and our niece, who are staying with Cathy's mom. We moved operations to the Wyndham, where even the soft bed and pillows didn't help after a while. From 3:30 to 5:00 am, I camped in a chair where gravity didn't push me down on the burn zones quite as hard, then I was able to get back in the bed. I felt better in the morning, and the blisters seem smaller. (I had worse blisters when I was about 12, and have managed to avoid them ever since by wary avoidance of the eye of the sky demon.) Cathy and Sarah have been in NYC with her sister, her mother, and our niece, taking in the Museum of Natural History. I had a plan to go to the Odyssia Gallery to try and see their Tricky Cad (more information on Tricky Cad can be seen at my flickr page, where I have some scans and photos I snagged off the web), but my present red, itchy state would be keeping me from that (and from the music store that was my second choice) even if it hadn't turned out to be closed for the summer, and even if they exhibited the work, which they don't, as light degrades it and has apparently already rendered two of Jess's masterful collages unviewable, according to the museum's curator.
So I'm just hanging out. Tomorrow we'll drive home, and I hope I'm up to it. Not that I have a choice. Also, the engine light in Cathy's car is lit up. She called Honda, and they said it was nothing. We'll see about that... eh, readers?
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