Too Close For Comfort

I've been pretty lucky.  In all of my travels hither and yon, I've never had any medical issues that couldn't be solved with a little something sold over the counter from the local farmacia. The travel medical insurance through my benefits package is all I've ever relied on to get me there and back in one piece.  And they haven't had to expend any dollars on me...or the kid.  Until now.

I'm entering into unchartered territory now that I've had word that the kid had a close encounter with some pine nuts disguised as pesto.  We make our pesto with ground almonds -- the one and only nut she's not allergic to, except for Brazilnuts and who eats those things anyway?  She's really, really careful but she probably didn't think twice before chowing down on the green stuff.  As she is currently in a wifi free zone, I don't really have all the details, other than the phone call I missed where she insists over and over...and over...and over again, "It's okay, don't worry, I'm all right."

Yeah, 'cause no one ever worries when that get that message from 8,000 miles away.  But you know that old cliche that's been floating around since the 1930's -- Is there a doctor in the house?  Well, in this case there was. Right in her very own tour group.  And given that there's only eight of them in the group, that was pretty bloody fortuitous.  He administered her epi-pen and they whisked her off in an ambulance to the nearest hospital, where after who knows what else they gave her and a little monitoring time, she was returned to her group, good as new claiming, "It's okay, don't worry, I'm all right."

And really, I'm not worried.  It's not part of my DNA.  She's obviously in good hands and she has a spare epi-pen -- although I'm pretty sure she won't be eating anything that doesn't carry a 'guaranteed nut-free' certification label on it for the remainder of her trip.  Now it'll just be a case of trying to get reimbursed by the insurance company.  'Cause I've heard that's real easy to do.

Let's the games begin.


Book Review:  It seems rather coincidental that while I was anxiously awaiting word that the kid had arrived safely in New Zealand (got it 12 hours after she arrived...don't they know about wifi down there?) I was reading Above All Things, a fictionalized account of the final fatal attempt by George Mallory to summit Mount Everest.  The novel is told from three points of view -- George, his wife Ruth, and Sandy Irvine, another member of the expedition.  I could sympathize with Ruth waiting on the twice daily post for news of any kind that would be long outdated before she even read it.  (And I'm complaining about a 12 hour delay in an electronic transmission -- my, how times have changed.)  That George and Sandy were writing letters home from their various base camps on the mountain gave me pause -- just who the hell was running down the mountain, letters in hand to stick them in the post box?? This was a really great read, well researched, and not dry and boring with technical climbing details.  Despite knowing the ultimate outcome of the story (hey, it took place in 1924 so I'm not giving anything away) Tanis Rideout managed to keep the tension strong throughout.

My Technology Conundrum

I'm sitting here waiting, patiently waiting, for word from the kid that she's alive and well and made it to New Zealand along with her bag and all her camera gear.  Okay, I'm lying about the patient part.  I'm restless and wandering aimlessly, eating just about anything that enters my field of vision.  Yeah, that ice cream was in my field of vision -- well it was as soon as I got to the DQ drive-thru.  My attention span is limited so it's best I stay put and not endanger others on the roads.  Any more than I already have.  The last message I had from her was 21 hours ago just before she boarded her second flight in San Francisco.  If all went according to plan she arrived in Christchurch 2 hours ago.  I know everything is okay.  But I have to hear it, gotta read that little message that will beep into my cell phone.  Any time now.

How did people survive in the days of olde, yesteryear, the way back when? In those days when you got on a ship and left for parts unknown.  How did the people who were left behind -- those worried spouses and parents -- get through their everyday lives, waiting for snail mail with news that was outdated before it even arrived?  When I was a kid, my folks would go on holiday leaving us teenagers at home.  They walked out the door and after a designated amount of time they walked back in and that was that.  The postcards they usually sent would arrive well after their return.  I've buggered off on enough trips myself and never thought to call or otherwise keep in touch.

But now, not only are we able to stay in touch, it's absolutely expected.  It's the beauty of, as well as the downside of our technologically advanced world. Which brings me to my conundrum.  I was planning a tech free Camino -- no e-mails, no blogging, no texting.  Just me and my pack and an old-fashioned pen and notebook.  Perhaps a weekly call home to check in.  But now I think I'm gonna have to rethink my plan.  I have an elderly mother whose favourite pastime is worrying.  The kid might not worry but she likes it when I check in with her.  And for the very first time I'm on the receiving end of the kid being far from home and wanting, needing to know that she's okay.

Damn technology.  It's ruined everything.

   

Buggin Out

Today I was forced to bug out because I was buggin out.  I'll explain in a minute.  Remember bug out from M*A*S*H?  According to Urban Dictionary bug out is British army slang meaning:  to move away from your current location very quickly (often under fire) because your position has been compromised by the enemy.  Okay, the important bit for me is the compromised by the enemy part.  Next buggin out.  Urban Dictionary gives this one a four part definition:  1) to perform an action or display a behaviour that contradicts your normal persona; 2) to unintentionally act like you're under the influence of a hallucinogenic drug while sober; 3) conduct unbecoming of a person of sound mind and body; and 4) brief mental impairment.  I'm thinking #4 is most applicable in my case.  There was also bugging out (oh, what a difference the letter G makes) which apparently means:  when someone's stoned and starts freaking out over random ass shit.  Seriously.  These definitions, and the words themselves make more sense when you realize that 'Urban Dictionary is written by you' and when I last checked there had been 7,682,477 definitions added since 1999.  Their slogan is 'Define Your World' so I'm guessing that basically anyone can add any shit they want on there.  But their slogan could well be 'Defining a Generation.'  It's enlightening reading, that's for sure.

What does this have to do with me?  What was the cause of my brief mental impairment which caused me to flee my house?  Who is this enemy compromising my home sweet home?  Well appropriately, it's bugs.  Ants to be precise.  Appears there's an infestation.  The bitch of it is, I don't know where they're coming from.  So there's poison strategically placed everywhere.  The kind that the ants are supposed to take back to the colony. You know -- kill the queen, kill the colony.  But here's the thing...in order to kill the colony I can't kill the ants.  It's a bit of a catch-22.  And it is driving me crazy watching them wandering in their dizzy little ant circles around the windowsills, across the walls, here, there and everywhere.

So I got out.  Gave the little blighters the run of the house.  I put on my backpack and took the dog up to the top of the hydro cut. It's a decent hike, about 2.5 hours round trip.  Lots of loose gravel and rock.  Perfect for turning an ankle or twisting a knee.  Great practice for the Camino.  And so nice to spend time in the great outdoors where the sun was shining and a cool wind was blowing.

And not a bug in sight.



Book Review:  YA novel Hollow City is the second in the Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children series.  It's a cool concept of combining the story telling with vintage photos.  Pretty sure the author writes around the pics as it's pretty unlikely he could write the story then find supporting photos to go along with his narrative.  I loved the first in the series; I only liked this second one.  But enough to read another.  Then I'll see where it goes from there.

I love finding a book that I can't put down.  And I hate finding a book that I can't put down.  'Cause that's it for me for getting anything else done, including sleeping.  A.S.A Harrison's The Silent Wife was one such book. Even though she tells you right from the get go what's going to happen, it's a slow build that manages to maintain the tension.  The thought I couldn't get out of my head while reading it was, "Man, does this author hate men!"  But apparently she was married to the same guy for 30 years or something so I guess it was just really good writing.  The tragedy of this, her first novel, is that Harrison died at age 65 before it was published.  I would really have liked to have read more from her.  Many people have compared The Silent Wife to Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl with Harrison's novel coming out on top. While I thoroughly enjoyed The Silent Wife, Gone Girl would get my vote.