Category Archives: Unusual

Here’s a recap of my year: job loss, shingles, stillbirth.

This year has punched me, shoved me down and trampled me. On many days, I have wanted to walk into a hospital and request a leg amputation. Then people could see the hurt I’ve been through. Instead, I am left fumbling for words every time a stranger asks “Is she your only child?” or “Why did you decide to go back to school?”

Do I invite them into my world? Most people — parents especially — really don’t want to hear about children dying.

And yet so many people have listened — neighbors who I hadn’t met before, friends who I hadn’t talked to in years. We literally got cards from strangers, people who had never met us but heard about Genevieve from our friends and relatives. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so loved and so sad at the same time. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you.

I’m looking forward to 2012. I have to believe it will be better than 2011. I’ll end the year with a bit of wisdom from Winston Churchill: “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

A couple of weeks ago, Greg traveled to Madison, Wisc., for a tae kwon do gathering. A few times a year, a bunch of black belts get together and do ridiculous things to prove their mental toughness.

This time around, Greg was chosen for a special task. He laid down on a bed of nails. Two swords were placed on his abdomen, with the blades facing into his abdomen. Then two cement blocks were stacked on top, and another black belt, someone who holds no grievances against Greg as far as I know, used a sledge hammer to smash the blocks. What an inspired idea!

Please note that this was voluntary. No money was exchanged.

Greg returned home with a surprisingly mild cut on his abdomen and most of his sanity intact. I enjoyed his comments on this whole affair.

“That bed of nails was sharper than I expected.”

Really?

“The swords were sharper than I expected, too.”

Sadly for Greg, there was no sympathy on the home front. Because, you know, that childbirth hurt worse than I expected.

I feel a little bad writing about this because I seem to always be writing about Greg’s errors. I do a lot more stupid things that he does — a lot — but as the chief writer and editor for this site, I avoid documentation of those.

Last night Greg took Eleanor to the park while I headed out for a walk wtih Abe. This was a little after 6 p.m. Both a fire truck and an ambulance raced by while we were outside and stopped in front of a home about a block down the street. We didn’t hear or see what happened, but everything seemed to quiet down after a bit.

About 8 p.m., I sat on the couch reading, and Greg worked at his computer. I heard the growl of large trucks and saw flashing lights pass our front door. Then more lights. Three or four fire trucks passed. What on earth? Were they headed to the house down the street? Why were they showing up more than an hour after the other emergency vehicles?

I had to know what was going on (There’s a reason I became a journalist.). I pulled on sneakers and started in the direction the trucks had gone. A police car cruised by.

One of our neighbors was on his way to the mailbox and mentioned all the noise. I told him I was going to walk through the neighborhood to at least figure out where all the vehicles were headed. He pointed out the helicopter circling to the southeast of our homes. A spotlight shone down from it.

That sent me scurrying back into the house. A search helicopter? What did that mean? Someone armed and dangerous on the loose, perhaps. A frantic hunt for an escaped convict? But that didn’t explain the fire trucks.

In desperation, I posted a message on Facebook to see whether any of my co-workers knew what was going on. I waited. Some sort of large police vehicle that looked like a SWAT truck cruised past our house. By this point, I couldn’t take it anymore. Greg was on the phone and seemed far less curious than me, so I told him I was going to take the car to see what was going on.

As I grabbed my keys, Greg rushed over and said “Wait.”

“What?” I asked.

“I know what this is,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I know what’s going on,” he said.

He dragged me over to the computer and showed me an e-mail that he had received earlier in the day. It said an emergency drill would be conducted at the train tracks near our home. The police and fire departments were running drills to prepare for possible train derailments or crashes.

And when I checked Facebook, sure enough, one of my co-workers had said the same thing. Greg says he got confused because of the earlier emergency at the home in our neighborhood.

But I still don’t understand how he could have forgotten that message. It took six emergency vehicles, a police helicopter and an hour and a half to jar his memory.

This is why I never let him go to the grocery store without a list.