2015 So Far

Well, this new year seems to be starting off different.

Three police cars showed up out on our main road about 1:45 a.m., parked in a line about a hundred feet apart with lights flashing and stayed there for an hour or so encouraging a party down that way to break up. It was a pretty good party, too, from the sound and sight of it, with music, fireworks and a large bonfire. (I'm pretty sure it was just a bonfire despite looking as if the host house was burning down with flames rising above the roof and thick smoke billowing out since the fire department never showed up.) It took a while for the dozen or so cars to leave.

Fortunately, the police didn't come any sooner since one of the neighbors down our street had been shooting off commercial-grade fireworks from the pavement in front of his house. They were very impressive (Literally. You could feel the force of the shockwave when they exploded.) and quite beautiful and very loud. The cats hid. They started well before midnight so after an hour and a half someone came out and yelled at them to knock it off. They yelled back, "Happy New Year!" The complainers yelled back, "Happy New Year, to you!" and went inside. A couple of shots later the fireworks ended. That's how civilization is supposed to work.

January is a Blue Month for my platelet donations this year: my every-four-weeks schedule means I will donate twice this month. The first one was scheduled for the first of the year which wasn't going to work for anybody so we moved it to Friday, the 2nd. The regular RN was still out on vacation and the hospital was low on platelets so the sub asked if I'd be willing to do a double, which I was. All went reasonably well with only minor beeping of the machine. When we were done, however, the bandage was not applied tightly enough (can't place blame since I participate in that process). I mentioned that I was feeling a little light-headed when I stood up and another donor said, "Maybe it's because you're leaking all over the place."

Sure enough, the bandage was soaked through, blood was running down my arm, and drops were spurting out all over the floor. I hadn't felt a thing. I sat back down and we got it stopped quickly enough. They spent several minutes scrubbing and decontaminating the floor. I went home, threw my shirt in the wash and took a nap. We all promised to be more observant next time.

My brother decided to put the cats on a diet. It's only the mom, Jasmine, that's fat but they all eat at the same time from shared plates so they're all being cut back in both volume and frequency. One of the enterprising little buggers quickly figured out how to self-serve by nibbling/tearing a small hole in the kibble bag. It was perfectly done and only released food when they stuck their faces in the hole. The only reason I noticed was because they acted totally disinterested when I put out the scheduled meal, instead of the hunger-fueled frenzy that had quickly become the norm. So now the bag is in a sealed bucket and they're unhappy again.

Happy Birthday to All

It's taken some time to really sink in that, now that Mom has died, I am no longer anchored to the house. Yes, I went to Tampa for the Android developers' Meetup and we're no longer careful about making sure one or the other of us is always home, but it still feels a little . . . weird . . . to be able to just get up and go somewhere.

We had our barbecue early in the afternoon because my brother had to work yesterday evening. Ribs, sweet corn, potato and macaroni salads and cole slaw with apple pie for dessert. The fourth is one of those one-meal days. As the sun dropped behind the palm trees to the west, it occurred to me I could, for the first time, go watch the fireworks in person, up close, as opposed to the TV broadcasts of national celebrations and glimpses of the local shots half-hidden on the horizon in previous years when Mom couldn't travel.

I drove downtown in the dusk through a thin intermittent haze of barbecued meats and parked as close as I could to where the fireworks were to be launched which was about a mile away. Half that distance was due to the sheer number of vehicles taking up every conceivable parking space in the center of town and half because the authorities had blocked off the bridge to Ft. Myers (from which the fireworks were to be launched) and all the approaches and intersections.

People were massing, drawn on foot and bicycle, skateboard and stroller, to the foot of the bride, past tents offering ice cream and pizza, fries and gyros and falafel, shaved ice and bottles of water and mango peach tea. I walked past a bouncy castle and inflatable obstacle course for kids. Aisles of booths offered handyman repairs by veterans, enrollment in GED classes for Spanish speakers, sign-ups for cable TV and pool services, club-store memberships, vacation plans, and more politicians on the make than is probably safe for one's sanity (mostly Republicans since they have a primary coming up soon and are all running against each other right now but I did see one lone Democrat who will face the winner in November) all handing out fans with their names and pictures on them which, considering the heat and humidity, meant people were willing tolerate, if not approve, their presence.

And, oh, the people. Tall and short, skinny and fat, old and young. All the hues from pale pink to dark chocolate and every shade of brown in between, mostly natural but an awful lot thanks to some serious sun time. The woman in the hijab. The guy in the confederate T-shirt. All the folks in variations of flag shirts and shorts and bikinis. The black kid with the impressive dreads. The white kid in what I thought was a blue spiky mohawk threaded with flashing green LEDs but turned out to be a wig. The Germans standing next to me struggling to identify the "Star Spangled Banner" as the band up on the inflatable stage slid from a patriotic medley through military anthems to Johnny Cash. The group of children behind me who, when the show started, exclaimed "Wow!" at every starburst until it became a chant that eventually became a rhythm of its own and slid out of sync with the explosions taking on an unintentionally ironic tone. These are folks who might not run into each other on a day-to-day basis, who might not otherwise associate. all down at the foot of the bridge, together, having fun, sharing the one thing we all have in common: the freedom to be us.

If a country is the people (and that is the premise behind our whole experiment, after all), we are in great shape.

The Fifth of July

Mom didn't get up until almost 1 p.m. today. This is because she stayed up to watch fireworks on TV last night.

First was Washington, D.C. which was marred by the prominent display of celebrity and some really lousy camera work on the fireworks themselves. The shot which was supposed to be primary was obscured by gun smoke from the cannon used fir the truncated 1812 Overture but that didn't stop the director from using it so we got to see the back scatter form fireworks going off on the other side of the cloud. Other cameras kept missing shots by focusing in on boats in the river or marching bands or just close-ups that were so close up the screen turned a uniform red.

Next was New York which was fine (although some of the fireworks were lost in the lights of the city itself) except for the decision by some idiot producer to accept the idea of some moron artistic designer to include an endless sparkler effect in the upper right corner drawing attention to the fact that this was "Live." Seriously?

The last was Boston, which really pushed Mom's endurance. Before it started, she went out front where we could hear, but not see, the city fireworks going off. The commercialism during the concert part was crass, but once the fireworks started Boston didn't do too bad.

Neighbors were shooting off small stuff all evening and Mom got as much out of that as she did from all the TV hoopla. Anyway, it was close to midnight by the time she went to bed. The good thing is, her exhaustion trumped her insomnia, at least for last night, and she stayed in bed.