Santa's Helpers

The last few days have been heady, the boys were home. This means a house filled with noise and activity. Their friends stop by and give us great hugs. Every flat surface seems to be covered with kid debris and every bath towel in the house is in play. The dogface boys are beside themselves with joy to cuddle up on a couch with an old friend. A bonus this year was the addition of Hunter’s lovely wife Megan, and Carl’s delightful girlfriend Ashley. We haven’t had a family Christmas in far too long and when the house is full it truly feels like home.

Of course, we’ve redefined “home” since the boys moved out and on to their adult lives. They walk in the door expecting nothing to have changed and anything different is amplified for them. Mostly they just comment on the changes. Sometimes they struggle mightily to return things to normalcy; they made a big effort to do that during this last visit.

We’ve had the same refrigerator for years, a standard freezer on top model. It’s in a corner of the kitchen and for years the door handle was on the right hand side, opening into the kitchen. The spacing of the corner did not allow for the door to swing wide open to the left, so one of the crisper drawers wouldn’t open all the way. At some point Dan determined that the access situation would be improved by moving the door handles from the right side to the left side. Voila, the door now swung all the way open, both crisper drawers opened fully and Dan was happy; me, not so much. I found the left hand access awkward as this required maneuvering the corner when putting groceries away or getting out ingredients for food prep. When the boys would visit they commented on the ergonomically incorrect placement of the handle. Dad’s “fix” confused (and annoyed) them.

At some point during the night of December 22, Christmas elves snuck into our house and made some ergonomic adjustments to the refrigerator. A cryptic note was left on the chalkboard about corrections that were needed. Apparently these were “cookie” elves, because my kitchen was returned to “code” and I was given permission to start baking. Dan saw the note first but could not make sense of it. When I got up he pointed to it and asked me if I knew what it meant. Having not baked a Christmas cookies in about, oh, 25 years I too was confused. Megan, up early, said she noticed something was different. I looked around again, saw the fridge handles back on the right and exclaimed “they fixed it!”

This is the magic and madness that happens when the whole family is together. The entire house is filled with a different kind of energy. We renegotiate our relationships in new and fun ways as we come to grips with these wonderful adults in our lives. Yes, something like the refrigerator can be “fixed”, but we can never return the boys to childhood. I appreciate the confident and competent men they have become, so confident that they can push their dad’s buttons and just laugh about it. I love the wonderful women they love so much. And when I think about relocating I know that no matter where we live, the love will follow.

Happy New Year everyone!

Doctor. Who?

We have friends who (pun intended) are really into Dr. Who. Yes, we saw the low-budget British show many years ago, and the long-scarfed hero is…interesting. But hey, there are people who don’t get Firefly. Or Fantasy Fest. But I digress. Since February my all-consuming deal has been The Itch. My skin has been on fire, and I was/am willing to go to almost any length to Just. Make. It. Stop. Which led me to my own high-tech Tardis. About the same shape and size, mine boasted enough fluorescent lighting to overpower six George Webbs. My travels started at under 50 seconds and went to just under two minutes. But instead of a long scarf and overcoat, I stood there naked, well, except for the nifty green goggles…

Three days a week I left work early to get to the cancer center at Froedert to meet my new BFF David, a stocky black guy who escorted me to my Tardis, gave me my goggles, and made sure I had them on before flipping the switch. Bug Zapper engaged, I stood with my arms over my head absorbing the light. Seconds or minutes later I was done, dressed and out of there—feeling fried. What’s interesting is that, even on our most whacky Key West days, the bottoms always stay on. Apparently they have protected me from the effects of UV rays over the years, because that is the one part of me that has never burned before (ouch).

What should have happened, instead of coming out with a crispy back end, was a transport to a new and strange place. Unfortunately, this is where science and science fiction diverge. As I recall, Dr. Who in his Tardis saved the universe countless times, neatly moving through time and space. I, on the other hand, always stepped out where I started and a bit disappointed that real life isn’t like any TV show.

Photo credit: Dan Johnson

At the last treatment David’s parting gift to me was a large bag of lotions, and sensitive skin friendly detergents. For my part I made him a Cream Cheese Pecan Pie for Thanksgiving, thinking he could warm it up in the Tardis.

Enough time has gone by where it doesn’t seem that odd that I only wear white cotton undergarments (my body armor) and only sleep between white cotton sheets. The phototherapy treatments have helped, and tomorrow I go to Madison for a battery of patch tests that should narrow down what’s going on. A week of no showers. Yeah, I’ll be pleasant by Thursday…

So, loyal 17 readers, that’s where things are today. If I had a real Tardis and could jump into the future to figure out what’s up with my “Itch” I’d love to do it. But this needs to be fixed the old fashioned way. And, just sayin', that scarf looks itchy.