What could go wrong?

What Could Go Wrong?

“Becky, this is going to be the perfect storm for you,” her father told her on the phone.

“Dad, the storm is very cold, very wet and very windy. What’s so good about it?”

“It’s a perfect test to see how well you and your brother get along.”

“We’ll get along just fine. Stan goes to his room and I go to mine. When we get hungry, we pop dinner in the microwave. What could go wrong?”

“You could burn the house down.”

“Dad…” Becky started to say before the telephone went dead.

Stan asked, “Who was that?”

“Mom and Dad are stuck in San Francisco. They can’t fly into Eureka until tomorrow afternoon. It’s just me and you, kid.”

“Don’t call me a kid. I’m fourteen years old.”

“So, I’m sixteen and Mom and Dad still call me a kid.”

The tit for tat was interrupted by a crash of lightning, followed by a blackout. Although it was still late afternoon, the house was plunged into darkness.

“Oh, great,” Becky said, “Now what do we do?”

Stan said, “I’ll make a fire in the fireplace if you cook dinner.”

She said, “Why don’t I start the fire and you cook dinner?”

“Do you really want to eat my cooking?”

“On second thought, you start the fire and I’ll cook dinner.”

It took Becky fifteen minutes to locate their one and only working flashlight, two candles and a box of matches. The faint candlelight was enough for her to find a can of beef stew. Next, she searched for the manual can opener that her mother threw out six months before.

Her second idea for dinner was stir fry. She found containers of chopped veggies and beef cubes in the refrigerator. She poured a cup of oil in the wok and lit the gas flame with a match. Yes, she thought, I can make dinner during a blackout.

 “EEEEEEEEE” the living room smoke detector emitted its annoying shrill. Becky rushed to the living room to find smoke billowing from the fireplace and Stan struggling to open the flue damper with the fireplace poker. A cathunk sound from the fireplace signaled his success. The smoke changed direction, floating up the chimney. But a layer of smoke still hung over the living room.

“Next time, open the flue, then start the fire,” she scolded as Stan opened the front door. When Becky opened the back patio door, a blast of cold wind and rain hit her in the face. She turned around just in time to see the oil in the wok burst into flame. She screamed over the shrill of the smoke detector and howl of the wind. She heard a whoosh and a cloud of blue fire retardant engulfed the wok, stove top and kitchen counter. Becky stood for a minute, trembling and staring at her brother with the fire extinguisher.

“Go ahead and say it,” she mumbled, “I’m such an idiot.”

He said, “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”

“It’s a deal.”

By the time the wind cleared the smoke from the house, the dining room floor, table and chairs were soaked. Thankfully, the smoke detector finally shut up.

Stan asked, “Are you still going to cook dinner?”

“What do you suggest?”

 “Why don’t we heat up some pork and beans and cook hot dogs over the fire? I can open the can with my camping knife.”

She said, “I know. I’ll heat up these pork and beans and we can roast hot dogs and marshmallows.”

The house became colder and darker as afternoon turned to night. Since the only warm spot in the entire house was next to the fire, Becky suggested they bring their mattresses and sleeping bags to the living room.

As they settled into their makeshift beds, Becky said, “Nothing else can go wrong now.”

Becky was sound asleep when she felt a shove on her shoulder.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“You were snoring like a chainsaw. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Aaargh, go to sleep.” Becky was almost asleep again when she heard a wheezing louder than the howling wind. She couldn’t believe her brother could snore so loudly. She decided to ignore him.

The power was still out when their parents returned the next evening. A candlelight dinner was waiting for them. Stir fry was on the menu.

“Wow,” Mom said, “I’m impressed. You didn’t burn the house down.”

Becky said, “Really, Mom, would we do I thing like that?”

How to Drive Like a Man

How to Drive Like a Man

Men are not allowed to ask for directions. I don’t know why, but that is just the way it is. That’s why it took Moses forty years to get to the Promised Land. He didn’t stop and ask for directions. So the first rule is to “Know your Directions.” This is easy to do in coastal California if you remember that the ocean is to the west of California. If the ocean is on your left, you are traveling north. If you forget where the ocean is, look for the “101 North” signs to properly orient you. This is important to remember when you are traveling between Los Angeles and Santa Barbara. Otherwise, you may think you are heading in a west ward direction.

I tend to get lost in the city of San Luis Obispo. I never knew which way was North.  In desperation, I privately took a peek at a map of the town. Now I knew my problem. The SLO streets run in a Northwest to Southeast and Northeast to Southwest direction. In other words, the drunken padre that laid out the town had his compass off by exactly 45 degrees. Okay, maybe he wasn’t drunk. Maybe he was a man-hater. I am certain he did not have a driver’s license. I still tend to get disoriented in SLO town, so I use Rule Two, “Bring a woman with you.” Fortunately, I am married to one. She never knows which way is north, but she can navigate San Luis Obispo.

If you venture away from the Golden State, be aware of the idiosyncrasies of the other states. Generally speaking, the further west you are, the straighter the compass. For example, Chicago streets tend to be north-south and east west. Manhattan Island in New York City is laid out very well, considering it’s in the East.

Then there is New England. My wife, my daughter Rachel, and myself were visiting Massachusetts. The town roads were confusing, even to my wife. I hate to admit it, but I had to implement Rule Three, “If you and your wife are both lost, ask for directions.” We needed a good city street map.

With our trusty laptop computer and an Internet connection at our motel, we used MapQuest to obtain directions from our motel to the nearest AAA office, which was a mile and a half away. The directions contained thirteen steps. I have been accused of exaggerating, but New Englanders will wonder what my problem is. Thirteen steps to find a location a mile and a half away through a New England town is about right.

We carefully followed the directions and promptly got lost. While trying to guess where we were, we caught sight of the AAA office we were looking for. This brings me to Rule Four, “If dumb luck smiles on you, smile back and pretend you were never really lost.”

I asked two of my wife’s cousins, “Which way is North?” Neither the wife nor the husband could answer my simple question. No one had ever asked them that question before.

Rachel was very impressed with New England. It is one of the reasons she lives in Mesa, Arizona, a town with north-south and east-west streets. That’s my girl.

Utah is a special case. I joke that there are too many Mormons there, but I don’t think that has to do with the roads. When Brigham Young stuck his cane in the ground and said, “This is where we will build our temple,” someone else heard, “This is where we will start our street addresses.” The city fathers of Salt Lake City went beyond that. They conjured a city grid of numbered streets. For example, 100 South, or 300 East, etc. If you tell me a house is located at 750 South 200 East Street, I can go there… most of the time. If I am on 200 East Street, I just need to drive seven and a half blocks south of the temple. I will be south of 700 South but north of 800 South. This works well in Salt Lake County because the suburban cities in Salt Lake County extended the city street grid of Salt Lake City. For example, 10900 South in the city of West Jordan is one hundred and nine blocks south of the Salt Lake Temple. I like this system. My wife hates it.

However, just to the south in Utah County, they have a problem. The townsfolk in the small rural towns used the same system, but set their zero-zero point in the center of their own towns. As long as Orem was a separate city from Provo or Spanish Fork or American Fork or Springdale, this was not a problem. Notice my use of the words “was not a problem.” The Mormons, like all other Americans after World War Two, made lots of babies. Those babies grew up and made their own babies. Today, the rural towns of Salt Lake County are one big city, with numerous address grids. It confuses my wife. If you promise not to tell her, I will confess that it confuses me also.

Regardless of location or religion, if you want to avoid getting lost, there is Rule Five, “Do not, I repeat, do not enter any major college campus.” When you are trying to find your way on campus, you will feel like you are going in circles. I will explain. When the egg heads laid out their cities within a city, they used the wrong kind of compass. They used the drafting tool that makes perfect circles. That is why the streets on any college campus do NOT run straight for any appreciable distance. The most common street name is “College Loop.” 

I like my adopted home town of Grover Beach. Good old D.W. Grover used the correct compass and a straight edge to lay out the town with north to south and east to west streets, except for mine. My street is curvy and at a weird angle. When I’m at home, I don’t know which way is north. It’s a good thing I’m not lost.

Vaso-vagal attack

Vaso-vagal Attack

In 1979, I was in my kitchen with my wife, drinking a glass of water. Something funny was said and I started laughing while the water I was still swallowing the water. The next thing I know, I am on the floor and Cindy is saying, “I’m calling 911.”

I get up and tell her to put the phone down. She is still holding the phone and looks like she has just seen her husband pass out.

She asks, “Are you sure?” I wasn’t feeling too bad and told her I was okay. I was almost correct. For many years, I thought I had just choked on the water. I was wrong.

What really happened was I triggered an inappropriate response of my vagus nerve. This nerve’s job is to send more blood to the stomach or bowels as these organs need a greater supply of oxygen, such as when you have just ate or you are on the toilet. In some people, this nerve can be triggered to send too much blood to the lower part of the body and not enough blood to the brain. Dizziness can occur and the person, such as yours truly, can faint. This is called a “vaso-vagal episode or vaso-vagal response or vaso-vagal attack.” The trigger can be caused by laughing very hard, trying too hard on the toilet, or swallowing something wrong.

A did faint one morning while using the toilet. I had no idea why at the time but I did see a doctor the next day. When the nurse took my blood pressure, it was about 90 over about 50. That is a tad on the low side all right. When I acknowledged that I was avoiding salty food because of a family history of hypertension, he told me to eat all the salt I wanted. True, my blood pressure was low, but I now believe it was due to a vaso-vagal episode.

Swallowing something wrong and getting a dizzy sensation happens to me so frequently, I thought it happened to everyone. Last November, with dinner guests present no less, I actually passed out for a few seconds. I shook it off and didn’t do much about it.

I did do some googling and found that same thing happened to President George W. Bush when he was eating pretzels. That was the first time I ever heard of the Vagus nerve. I know that self-diagnosis is dangerous, but the article explaining what happened to President Bush and the descriptions of the symptoms exactly matched what happened to me.

It turns out that uncontrolled, gut wrenching laughter can also trigger a vaso-vagal attack. I am watching a funny skit on television last night. A gym instructor is doing a workout with his two partners behind him. The girl is just sitting or standing, and eventually takes out a blanket and pillow and lies on the floor to take a nap. Meanwhile, the other guy in the back works himself so hard, he collapses. I laughed really, really hard...

Suddenly I was dreaming something weird and Cindy was tapping on my shoulder, asking me if I was all right. I am startled awake and startled by the sight of my wife. She is trembling, holding the telephone, and talking with the 911 dispatcher. She doesn't like the way I am looking and tells them to send the paramedics.

I do not like the way I am feeling so I do not object. I feel like all of the energy went out of me. By 8:30 p.m. I am taking a ride in the ambulance to the Emergency Room.

The Emergency Room personnel see these events all of the time. The only thing to do is to conduct tests to rule out other causes of the fainting. They drew blood, conducted an EKG, and took a chest x-ray. Everyone, including myself, suspected it was a malfunction of my vagus nerve. I was feeling better by 10 pm. The doctor came in about 10:30 and told me all of the tests came back with normal results. He handed me some literature about vaso-vagal episodes and sent me on my way. I walked out of there on my own two feet, although I was still tired. Cindy drove us home.

I was still feeling tired this morning. Evan had a music practice in Atascadero from 11:30 to 1 pm. Cindy and I had a picnic lunch at Atascadero Lake and then we planned on going for a walk. I decided I would walk as fast as I normally do and see what happened. No, I didn’t faint. I actually felt better and better.

I’m cured, until next time. But now I know what to do next time, just lie down before gravity takes me down.

How to shop like a man

How to Shop Like a Man

Men and Women shop differently. Since I am retired, it is my privilege to shop with my wife more frequently and to note these differences. When I go shopping, I like to go into the store, find the item I want, put it in my shopping cart and immediately head for the checkout stand. My wife likes to go into the store, find what she’s looking for, and then browse around looking for other items to spend my hard earned money on. Fortunately, she is something of a cheapskate, so she doesn’t usually overdo it. That’s why I love her so much.

Once, my wife dragged me to the store to shop for a birthday present. The birthday boy was turning two years old and he is one of our grandsons. While she was browsing through the cute little boy outfits, I saw a perfect present for our daughter’s little boy, a noisy telephone toy with all kinds of bells and whistles and lights. It was in the shopping cart before my wife chose an outfit.

When another grandson was the birthday boy, my wife dragged me to the store again, with similar results. I sought out the famous push toy that makes the annoying popping sound. She could buy the kid all the clothes she wanted, but he was also getting that popcorn popper.

When it was time to purchase a new television, I wanted to shop for the new electronic gismo the man’s way. I decided we should buy a “Smart” TV. An old dumb one just would not be sufficient for a grandma and grandpa trying to transition from the twentieth century to the twenty-first.

I went to a few stores by myself. I found a “smart” TV that was just the size we wanted. It was a little bit more expensive than the same sized dumb TV, but it was two to three hundred dollars less expensive than the other “Smart” televisions that were on display. The next step was to return to the store with my wife and show her the good deal I found. She was impressed by my bargain hunting ability and agreed the displayed TV was just the thing for our humble abode. We waited until we had the attention of a sales clerk and I went into action.

I pointed at the display and said, “I want to buy that TV.” Yes, that is how a man shops.

“Okay, let me see if we have it in stock.” After checking his computer, he mumbles something unintelligible and says, “Come this way, please.” He then starts to show us how to use one of the other smart televisions for sale.

“Why are you showing us this one? We want that other one.”

“Oh, that one is out of stock.” What he didn’t say was, “I’m pulling a bait and switch and trying to sell you a more expensive model.”

“No thank you,” we said, and left the store. We found the same television at another store, for the same price no less.

With the second sales clerk by my side, I point to the television and say, “I want to buy that TV.” Yes, I think to myself, this is how a man shops.

“Oh,” he says, “That television is out of stock.”

We did some research on the Internet and discovered that the “good deal” model is no longer being manufactured.

When in this quandary, the intelligent Man shopper will implement my second rule of shopping, “When you don’t know what you are doing, ask questions.” I actually do this all the time when I shop at the local hardware store. I often don’t know exactly what I want, but the hardware sales staff is always helpful. Besides, it’s always a Man thing to shop at the hardware store.

So I pretend I am in a hardware store, rather than a big box electronic store. I start to ask questions. It turns out that we could purchase a dumb TV and a “Smart” blue ray player. By connecting the “Smart” device to the television, we get a “Smart” TV as well as a new Blue-Ray CD player, for about the same amount of money as the purchase price of my original “good deal” find.

We made our purchase, and after some false starts, we get our brand new, up to date, entertainment system to work. When our daughter came to visit with her sons, she made sure she brought her son’s popcorn popper push-toy. I don’t know why.