Tiffany’s fall

Today was pretty trying – Tiffany has fallen again, and once again could not get up.

This morning Shelly was looking for my parents' loading ramps for their quads. She needed them to load my parents' quads so she can go riding with me tomorrow. These ramps are very big, and not very easy to lose; Shelly could not find them. I had borrowed them a couple years ago, but was certain I returned them.
After receiving several calls from Shelly, I finally called Tiffany to see if she remembered where they were. Tiffany thought that we still had them, and that they were leaning against the side of the garage. I asked Tiffany to walk outside and look to see if they were there; Tiffany didn't want to go. She said she would fall. I told her that was ridiculous – all she had to do was walk down the driveway and onto the sidewalk. She never had to leave the pavement. Finally, she agreed to look for the ramps.

I left my desk and went down into the shop. While I was discussing some necessary rework with a couple machinists, my phone started ringing off the hook. At first it was Shelly, and then Tiffany . . . I told the machinist the story about how they just wouldn't leave me alone about those ramps, and continued discussing technical stuff, ignoring the phone.

After four or five minutes of receiving nonstop calls and texts, I finally got a chance to duck into a lab; only then did I see Tiffany's latest text message: "911 CALL ME". Of course, I called, then ran out the back door, jumped in my truck, and started flying home. On the way home I called my boss and told him what had happened, and that I might be out for the rest of the day. I then turned my fifteen minute commute into a ten minute drive.

When I got home I found Tiffany sitting in the house with blood all over her face, hands and shirt. There was a lot of blood. Most of it appeared to be coming from her nose, but there was a large abrasion under her nose. Both lips were cut. There was a lot of blood on her hands, so I did not know whether or not they were bleeding. She said her teeth hurt, but I did not immediately see any obvious dental damage. Her glasses were sitting next to her, and the lenses had been ground away by the concrete. She said she was certain that her foot was broken, her nose was bleeding and swollen up several times its normal size, and her left pinky hurt.

Our neighbor had seen her fall and come to help her. Somehow he got her electric scooter out of the van then helped her on it and into the house. From there, she said she was fine and that I was on my way, so he went home. Without cleaning her up, I rushed Tiffany to the van to go to the Urgent Care Clinic. She was asking for pain medicine and cloths to clean up the blood – I didn't give her pain medicine because I wanted the doctor to be able to give her something good, and I didn't want to waste time on cleaning up the blood.. Before we left, my mother and a couple of my sisters showed up; I think one of them gave Tiffany a damp cloth for the blood as we were pulling out of the driveway.

Because we had been there in the past, we went straight to the Urgent Care Clinic on Fourth Plain, next to Bi-Mart. The office was empty, with a sign saying they had moved to Vancouver Mall. We drove to the new clinic at Vancouver Mall and wheeled Tiffany inside. To my surprise, the Urgent Care Clinic said that they would not treat her. Here she was, in pain and bleeding all over their office . . . insurance card in hand, and they would not treat her because I had not grabbed her purse on the way out the door, so she did not have photo ID. I had our insurance card, I had my ID, I had membership cards with both our names on them, but nothing with her photo. And they refused service – they said that I should go home and come back with her ID, and that they would treat her when I returned. When I made an empty threat to call an ambulance and sue them for the bill, the receptionist offered to "ask her supervisor"; finally, they "made an exception this time".

While waiting to see the doctor, Tiffany noticed that she had a couple huge bumps on the top of her foot.

When we finally got to see the doctor, the service improved only marginally. The medical staff did nothing to clean or dress any of the flesh wounds. They X-Rayed Tiffany's foot and hand, and found nothing broken. As I was looking over the doctor's shoulder, I saw a giant diagonal crack across Tiffany's fibula and asked about it. The doctor asked Tiffany if her leg hurt – Tiffany said no, and the doctor said that it must just be a blood vessel or something. The clinic did not X-Ray her nose because they said they lacked the expertise; based on a physical exam, they do not believe her nose is broken.

The final recommendation was for us to see what her nose looks like after the swelling goes down, and to follow up with an appointment in a week. We plan to see Dr. Hughes, Tiffany's general practitioner, in a week, and will probably ask for a new set of X-Rays.

When we got back to the van, we realized that Tiffany's nose was still bleeding (not bleeding again . . . STILL bleeding), and that the clinic had done absolutely nothing to dress any of the flesh wounds. I started to go back in to get a Band-Aid, but then stopped . . . there was a long line in the reception area. We ended up stopping at a pharmacy on the way home to buy big Band-Aids. Ridiculous!

Tiffany took her prescription pain medicine, changed her shirt, and we dressed her still-open wounds. I stopped by work for a few minutes, and then we picked up Alex at school together. Before he saw Tiffany, I explained to him that she had fallen again and hurt her face this time. At first he was upset that we had to go to the hospital. When I explained that we had already taken care of that, he was fine. As long as HE didn't have to go with us.

After we went to the Optometrist to order a new pair of glasses, Tiffany said she wanted to eat something fattening, so we all went to Red Robin for dinner.

Wiring . . . wiring . . . wiring

I just finished my two wiring projects this evening. I started as soon as I got home from work, and spent about three hours; this is about two hours longer than I had planned.

Project number one was to fix the trailer plug wiring in my truck (a 1989 Ford Ranger). I will be taking Alex ATV riding at Brown's Camp on Saturday, so I will need to pull the trailer and ATV with the truck. A few days ago I hooked the truck up to the Soap Box Derby trailer and saw that the tail lights weren't working. I did enough troubleshooting to figure out that it was in the truck, and left it at that.

I was expecting to have to replace a single bad wire and nothing more. I discovered that it was SO MUCH more! I discovered that both the taillight wire and the ground wire were bad. I'm not sure why the trailer turn signals were working. It looked like each turn signal was grounding back through the other; I didn't spend much time trying to figure THAT one out. It also became quite apparent that I was going to need a new trailer plug; the one on the truck was quite corroded inside. In fact, I think that's where the ground was interrupted. Also, when I started troubleshooting the tail lights and pulling on the truck's wiring harness, the wires started literally crumbling in my hands. Before I had decided what to do, neither the trailer lights NOR the truck's tail lights were working; I needed to replace the trailer plug AND do some patching on the truck's wiring harness.

Trip number one to Schucks was a quick one. I took the truck, and was frantically hurrying to get home before dark (because I didn't have tail lights). Intending to buy a $3.99 splice-in trailer plug, I found a plug-in kit for $15.99. Instead of splicing wires, this kit just plugs into the truck's existing wiring harness. I had already spent more time that I wanted, so the extra $12 didn't seem bad. The kit said it fit 1989 F-150s, but did not list Rangers. I crawled under my truck in the parking lot and determined that I had the same plug as the kit, then bought it. I got home and found out that I did NOT have the same plug. It looks very similar, but has a small clocking tab in the wrong position.

For trip number two to Schucks, I took the van (it was dark) and took my time. I returned the plug-in kit and, after determining that they do not have a plug-in kit for my Ranger, bought the $3.99 splice-in plug. Once I got home with everything I needed, the splicing and wiring went fairly quickly. I plugged the truck into the Soap Box Derby trailer, and . . . voila . . . it worked.

Project number two was to wire in an electric outlet on my ATV. I've been meaning to do this for a while. With a 12V outlet, I can mount a GPS on the handlebars and (theoretically) never get lost in the woods again. Don't laugh – it's happened. One time after dark. It's too cold this time of year to spend the night in the woods, and Saturday I plan on riding pretty far out – past the places that I know well – so I figured a GPS would be a required piece of equipment.

I purchased an outlet at Baxters today during lunch. I pulled the ATV out of the shed and into the garage and started looking at how I wanted to mount it. I ended up not really mounting the outlet. There is a little empty pocket under the seat and next to the battery; it is a perfect size to place the outlet. I put ring terminals on the outlet pigtails and hooked it straight into the battery. The cord on the GPS is long enough to reach from the handlebars, under the seat, and back to the outlet. This is really a nice setup, and did not require me to drill any holes or physically mount anything. In addition, I did not have to splice into any wiring on the ATV. My fear now is that the GPS will drain the battery because it is hooked into non-keyed power. I've got it hooked up right now, so I'll find out before I get out in the woods. If it does drain the battery, I'll just have to lift the seat and unplug the GPS when I shut off the ATV.

Alex’s Egg Juice

This morning I was cracking one of Alex's chicken eggs to make scrambled eggs. These eggs have very thick shells, and this particular one had a thick inner membrane (just under the shell). I shattered the shell, but the inner membrane just would not break. After wrestling with it for several seconds over the bowl, "POP"! Most of the egg went into the bowl, and the scrambled egg was good. But a good bit of 'egg juice' also went all over my shirt. Alex loved this, and it evidently gave him more than enough entertainment for the morning. He was still giggling about it when I left for work (in a different shirt).

Chickens in the Mall???

A few years ago, we took Jake, our German Shepherd, into the mall and had his picture taken with Alex at Picture People. We've also taken Sunshine, our cat. Alex has seen those pictures, and for about a week now has wanted to take his chickens into the mall to have his picture taken with them at Picture People. He doesn't seem to see the difference between taking a dog and cat through the mall and taking a couple chickens through the mall.

Terraplane Purchase

My dad finally bought the Terraplane he has been wanting for years.

Racing has run in my family for years. Back in the '50s my grandpa had an Essex Terraplane that he raced. I have been teaching Alex that you have to take enough parts to make a spare car to the race; using this same logic, my grandpa had bought a spare Terraplane for parts or as a backup car.

Then he had his accident. One night in 1959, as he was driving Westbound along Highway 30 near the Sauvie Island bridge, a drunk stumbled out of a tavern and into the road in front of my grandpa's car. He swerved and missed the drunk (who stumbled away, never to be heard from again). Unfortunately, at that time, the road was only two lanes, with a retaining wall against the hill on the SW side of the road; he hit the retaining wall. In the days before air bags, crumple zones, and even seat belts, this was a devastating occurrence. The 1954 Plymouth was, of course, totaled. Worse, my grandpa's head was shoved into his chest cavity and he was assumed to be dead at the scene by the emergency crew. Fortunately, he was NOT dead, and had nearly 50 years ahead of him. However, he never raced again.

That spare Terraplane sat in his garage. It sat . . . and sat . . . and sat. Even when he didn't have much garage to put it in, the Terraplane was always there, inside the garage. Today it is really in good shape, considering that it is nearly 80 years old, hasn't ran in at least 50 years, and has never been rebuilt. To people who do not often see un-rebuilt cars from the '30s, the Terraplane would look like a pile of rusted steel. To an old car aficionado, however, the Terraplane is in very good condition – very restorable would be a little more accurate.

That restoration is a project that my dad has put quite a bit of time and money into. Over the past several years, he has searched exhaustively for all the parts it would take to restore the Terraplane, and has bought many of them. Because this car is so rare, however, the problem with parts is not just the expense . . . it is the existence. There are a handful of collectors throughout the country, and they have snatched up all of the Terraplanes and Terraplane parts in existence. Occasionally he will find a part or two for sale – he once had a bumper shipped from Pennsylvania – but in general the only way to get the parts is to make them from scratch.

Then, last week, he found a Terraplane for sale on eBay. A complete, fully restored Terraplane. A 1933 Hudson Essex Terraplane 5-window coupe, restored as a Street Rod, but with generally original lines – it hasn't been drastically altered by chopping, etc. Through the small world of Terraplane collectors, he was able to figure out who owns the car; it belongs to a collector in Ohio who has an entire heated shop full of Terraplanes – he has spent years (and a sizable fortune) buying every Terraplane that has come on the market. My dad called the collector, and got the story behind the car. This particular car was rebuilt for a wealthy Canadian rancher who later developed MS, so he had to sell the car. As part of the deal, the collector agreed to let the rancher visit the car and take him on rides whenever he is in Ohio. Basically, the Canadian rancher has visitation rights. The collector is now forced to liquidate some of his collection, but is not willing to allow the Canadian's visitation rights to expire. For this reason, he does not want to sell the car to any of the numerous dealers who have inquired about the car. Instead, he gave my dad an offer he could not refuse . . . and he did not. He bought the car, and agreed to give the Canadian rancher a ride anytime he happens to be in town.

Now he is trying to figure out how best to ship the car from Ohio. He had considered flying back and driving the car (it is fully restored, and is mechanically capable of a long-distance road trip), but I believe he is leaning toward shipping it.

Fisher’s Landing Volunteer Work – Math Facts & Chess Club

Yesterday was my first stint at doing Math Facts with the 3^rd graders in Alex's class. I'm going in once a week for an hour and administering what used to be 'timed tests' back in the day. They no longer rely on a set time goal, but rather on observation of the student's pacing to ensure that they are recalling facts, rather than counting on their fingers. The odd thing is that I still count when I recall some math facts. 5 + 8 = 13. But I have to count. I can count as fast as I can say the problem, but still . . . I count. Always have, always will. I'm also helping kids out one-on-one with whatever the teacher may have written in their file. Basically, I'm tutoring math one hour a week.

Also, the Chess Club is looking more and more like a 'go'. Several weeks ago, I responded to a request for parents who are experienced chess players and willing to 'help out' with the Chess Club and Fisher's Landing. I replied that I had played quite a bit back in the day, including tournaments, but that I haven't played in quite a while, and would be willing to 'help'. The response was basically, "GREAT! We've been looking for someone to start a Chess Club for several years!" There were a couple other 'volunteers' – at least one much more advanced than me, and some who do not know how to play chess – but all of them were smart enough to say they will not commit to organizing, or even making it to every weekly meeting. I alone did not take a big step back.

Plans have been made; equipment has been purchased; flyers are going out in next week's bulletin. Despite not yet having an official announcement, there are already 14 kids who want to join Chess Club, and most of them have never played. Our first meeting is on November 5, and we're limiting it to 20 kids to start out with, although I think the program has the potential to grow much larger. I would like to reach out to all kids, all the way from kindergartners who have never played, all the way up to 5^th graders who want to prepare for tournament competition. My immediate goals are twofold: First, do not look like an incompetent fool. Second, I would like the beginners to know the fundamentals and be able to sit down and play a game at home within 6 weeks.

I have less than 4 weeks to prepare. I'm going to be reading a lot of "How to teach chess" books, as well as trying to put together a 6-part lesson plan that will bring a non-player up to speed.

School Skate Night

Tonight we went to our first Fisher's Landing school skate night, and we had a lot of fun. There were a lot of people at Golden Skate; the roller rink was a little crowded at times. It's hard to tell, but I would say there were about 150 people in the building. There were at least three or four other boys from Alex's class, and I was happy to meet some of his classmates. There were door prizes drawings for Fisher's Landing items (water bottles, pencils, etc); Alex did not win a door prize, but he did FINALLY win the dice game. In this game you stand under a number and they roll a giant die to eliminate people until only one person was left. Alex has wanted to win this game for a couple years, and tonight he FINALLY did it. The prize was a free small soda. I also convinced Alex to play Lazer Tag. This is played with 10 people at a time, and they said that they normally have one game per night; tonight there were three games. I discovered as I entered that I was the only adult playing – this made me a favorite target. My gun was not working, but I had fun running and hiding from the kids, then making a big deal when they shot me.

One of the very interesting things about the place was Michael Jackson.  Golden Skate's heyday was during (or even before!) Michael Jackson's reign as the king of pop.  Now, there are a couple posters on the stage beside the skating floor memorializing Jackson.  Near the end of the night they played 'Beat It'.  It was incredible to watch the 8 and 9 year olds, whos parents were probably 8 or 9 when the song came out, scream 'Michael Jackson' during the unique opening, then sing the entire song word-for-word.