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Day 2 – Calamet, OK, to Gallup, NM
March 11th, 2010 | Author: Eric Hays-Strom

Hi, again!  Today’s journey was a long one!  654.3 miles to be exact.  I’ve driven longer, Scott and I once drove from Houston to Omaha without stopping except for gas and food.  But pulling a trailer 654.3 miles makes for a long day in my book.

We got off to a fairly early start, about 10 minutes later than I’d have liked.  At 8:10 we pulled out of the KOA and hit the road. 

Our first stop was in Elk City, where we visited Gene Smith, Inc. the Chevy, GMC, etc dealer in town.  Their technician came out, took a look, did a few magical things, uttered hocus pocus several times, then changed two fuses, and we were off.  Total cost of 15 minutes work?  $8.21 for the fuse!  We now had turn signals, brake lights, and the trailer brakes to assist with stopping!  Very important.

Todays’ journey was pretty straight forward.  Interstate 40 from the minute we started until we pulled off here in GAllup.  This isn’t to say it was uneventful.  Okay, it was uneventful.  Except for constant wind out of the north, which made it very hard going.  We had to keep our speed down to 60 to 65 mph to keep the trailer under control.

It snowed.  It rained.  It was sunny.  It was overcast & foggy.  Sometimes all of those in a 2 minute time span!

We got to Gallup at about 7, unhooked the truck, hooked up the trailer to water and electric and sewer, and now, we’re getting ready to think about bed time.  And that, my friends, family & other readers… is that!  Now for the story I promised you the other day: I promised you a look at our modern routine.  Of course, that really is a little harder than it sounds.  We travel in many ways, these days.  Sometimes, we travel by car alone.  Others we take the trailer.  Others we fly.  But currently, we’re on the road with our trailer, so that’s what you’ll get.

Now

I have been conditioned to arise early.  Princess Nikki likes things just right, and that means at 5:30 a.m. we wake up.  Whether Daddy (that’s me) wants to or not!  This, coupled with Dad’s careful training, assures that when I’m on the road, I’m up at 5:30 a.m. every day.  I sneak out of bed, quietly dress, and slip into the main area of the trailer (the living room).  Thanks to modern technology, I pour myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, then step outside to get some fresh air and enjoy the quiet of the great outdoors.  My cup quickly finished, I return to trailer, pour another cup of coffee and fire up the laptop.  I’ve carefully ensured that the campground selected for the night has WiFi for my internet connection.  I peruse my emails, favorite websites, and a bit of news.  At 6:30, if it’s a travel day, I pour my 3rd cup of coffee and another cup for Scott.  Scott isn’t like Mom.  He needs to be awakened.  I gently call to him and present him with his coffee as he joins me.

We eat a quick bowl of cereal with some toast, generally in silence unless there is some really interesting news, as it takes Scott a bit to fire up in the morning.  During this time, another pot of coffee is brewing.

Dishes are now washed, and the trailer put into “travel mode”… all things put in their places, the bed made, and breakables nestled in their protective nests.  The new pot of coffee is poured into the thermos, the brewer cleaned, and pot rinsed then nestled away.  While Scott is doing all this, I’m “breaking camp” carefully following the checklist to disconnect the hookups and hookup the truck. 

At 8 a.m., we’re on the road, if not a bit sooner.

And that is our daily routine!

Category: Our Life Together, Our Travels  | Leave a Comment
Day 1 – Iowa to Oklahoma
March 10th, 2010 | Author: Eric Hays-Strom

I certainly never anticipated that this post would be coming so late.  Today’s journey has been a little daunting!

Scott and I left home at 7:30 a.m., heading for Camping World where our trailer was… and then, we left home AGAIN at 7:50 a.m., heading to Camping World!  The first time through, we made it about 2/3 of the way when I asked Scott “Did you get the milk?”  “No,” Scott responded, “It was in the fridge next to the other chilled food for the trip.”  Oops.  So, we turned around and headed home!

We got hooked up relatively quickly, and then realized the right rear tail light on the trailer was burned out.  Only, it wasn’t.  It seems something was wrong with the wiring harness.  So, I trundled inside to get one of the technicians to take a look.  “Everything worked yesterday,” the man told me.  So he came out, sure enough, it’s not working.  After working a little magic, he was able to demonstrate that the wiring on the trailer is just fine.  It’s the connection to the truck that’s not working.

Disgruntled, Scott and I set off on our journey at 8:45, discussing how we were going to get things fixed.  We decided we’d try to get to Albuquerque, and get the truck serviced there.  By Lincoln, we discovered that we didn’t have trailer brakes… it was just the pickup trucks brakes doing all the stopping work.  But we were determined to get to Elk City, so we powered on through.  All across Nebraska to York, the sky was cloudy.  As we neared York, and then drove south to Kansas, the low clouds became fog.  This slowed us down, a little.  Passing through Wichita, it began to rain, and then, miraculously, the sun came out.

Shortly in to Oklahoma, however, that changed again.  We were hit by a massive squall, rain driving sideways blinding us.  Hail.  We had to pull to the shoulder and let it pass.  After it cleared enough for us to drive on, we encountered the accidents.  And then the piles of hail that made it look like 4 inches of snow had fallen. 

We took OK33 from Guthrie to Kingfisher, then dropped down US81 to El Reno and the interstate, I40.  As we pulled on to the interstate, it was just after 6:30 p.m.  The GPS said there was a nearly 2 hour drive ahead of us.  The sun was setting.  It was getting dark.  And we realized we were driving in the dark with no running lights on the trailer.

We called it quits.  We’re in El Reno West KOA, near Calumet, OK, for the night.  We arrived at 7 p.m.  In the morning, we’ll try to find someone who can repair our towing plug.  But, of course, now, the entire timeline of this trip is in question.  We’ll make it, but when? 

Now, I’ve promised some of you a bit of a story, and here it is:

In my last post last Saturday, I alluded to the road trip traditions established in my childhood when Mom, Dad and I travelled.  I want to address that a little more fully in today’s post, since really, this first leg of our journey is a bit mundane!

Then

Dad always started his days before we did ours… at least when I was very little.  However, as I grew older, I found these were good times to “hang out” with Dad.  So, Dad would awake very early while we were on the road.  His day would begin about 5 a.m. when Dad would quietly slip out of bed.  Normally, I’d hear him stir and crawl out as well.  We’d dress in the dark, quietly so as not to awake Mom, then sneak out of the motel room.  Dad always knew where to find coffee, whether in the motel lobby or in a nearby cafe.  And coffee was the first thing on Dad’s mind.  We’d find a little table or a booth and Dad would order a cup of coffee and a glass of milk for me.  Of course, as the profligate hunter of the family, not only was a cup of coffee on the menu… so was the donut or cinnamon roll.  As I grew older, I’d join in the coffee myself.  Dad would quickly sip his coffee and read the major news stories.  By 5:30, we’d be done, and Dad would order two more cups of coffee to go and more donuts.

Arriving back in our room, we’d find Mom putting on the final touches of her morning preparations.  She’d gratefully accept Dad’s proffered cup of java, then sit and drink her coffee and eat her donut while Dad and I finished getting ourselves put together (not a lot to do for real men like us!) then we’d pack, load the car and hit the road!  “We’re off!” cried father, and an hour later we pulled away from the curb.  Okay, that last part isn’t true, but that was said at the beginning of virtually every day, our morning ritual of a sort.  I think that stemmed from something my grandfather started, though I really can’t say for sure.

As Dad drove, guided by Mom’s able navigation, I set to arranging the back seat.  The back seat of the car was always crammed with everything we might need for the day.  Games, pillows, blankets, maps, drinks, food, pads of paper.  It was the ultimate nesting ritual for me to carefully organize the back seat, and settle in for the ride.

After an hour, we’d find a restaurant or a McDonalds to stop for breakfast.  The rest of the day’s journey really never changed.  Dad drove (sometimes Mom would spell him) and Mom and I would nap, or we’d talk, or we’d play games (generally the alphabet game… we’d start with A, and look for that letter on signs and license plates, progressing through the alphabet).  Or one of Mom’s favorite games… she’d start a story, tell a few paragraphs, then each of us would take turns developing the story.  On one of these trips Mom shocked me by revealing her greatest secret: She was really the queen of a distant empire on a planet far far away, and some day her people would return for her.  She wasn’t sure if we’d be allowed to go with her, though!  They never did, though. 

In the evening, Dad would find a motel, naturally it needed to be close to the highway, not a lot of searching was permitted.  Dad really would have been satisfied with any facility that provided a bed, a bathroom and morning coffee, but in deference to Mom, he looked for one that was relatively nice, and hence clean.

Oddly enough, I don’t recall any particular evening routine.  We were always in bed by 10. 

In tomorrow’s entry, I’ll pass along what travels TODAY look like!

Category: Our Travels  | One Comment
It’s Official!
March 08th, 2010 | Author: Eric Hays-Strom

Most of my regular readers will actually know this already, due to a flurry of emails I sent out earlier (but not MUCH earlier!)

As of today, I am no longer unemployed!  At about 3:30 p.m. today local time, I accepted an job offer from a local governmental agency.  Once things are really secured, I’ll post an update on what I’ll be doing and the agency name.

It’s been a LONG drought for me!  And the really good part is, they want me to start the Monday AFTER Scott and I were expecting to return from our vacation, and so the vacation is still on!

I’m as giddy as… I don’t know what!

Category: Eric's Life  | 2 Comments
Planning a Road Trip
March 06th, 2010 | Author: Eric Hays-Strom

I collect minutiae.  I don’t recall it, but I do collect  t!  Well, at least when I travel.

When I was growing up, we took lots of road trips.  We drove to the east coast, and to Canada.  We drove once to Mexico City.  Days were filled with traditions.  We always started early.  Very early.  Dad liked being on the road by 6 a.m.  We’d stop about 8 for breakfast.  When they came along, the tradition changed ever so slightly in that breakfast would be Egg McMuffins at the first McDonalds we came to.  Dad loved those Egg McMuffins!  We’d drive through the day, long drives, til nearly 8 at night.

Mom always liked stopping at places of interest.  Dad not so much.  You get in the car, and you drive until you get to your destination.  Interesting sites along the way do not constitute “your destination”, so you do not stop at them.  In the ongoing battle between turning trips in to something somewhat educational by stopping at historical markers and the like, and driving without stopping until the destination is reached was not a hard fought battle.  Mom won.  Almost all the time, Mom won.  But she learned to temper her requests.  Dad got long stretches of driving, Mom got to stop and see things.

As I grew older, I helped with the driving somewhat.  I learned that one drives until one gets to the destination.  It’s the way I am.  I’m not big on sight seeing all the little roadside museums along the way.  And with the interstate system, driving to the destination without stopping at those little museums is so much easier.  I suspect I’ve missed lots of interesting stuff along the countless miles I’ve driven.

One other thing I learned at the seasoned hands of my father on those long road trips is the collecting of minutiae.  Driving minutiae, to be precise.  Dad and I kept simple logs of our trips.  Mileage of each segment of the road.  Cost of gas.  Gallons of gas.  Time on the road.  All these little tid-bits of data were carefully collected, written down, surveyed and then forgotten once the destination was reached.  The FINAL destination, that is… HOME.

Dad was also very inclined to detailed planning.  He knew what time we’d depart, precisely the roads we would take, which towns we’d stop in along the way for gas and for eating.  He never quite caught on to planning for those sightseeing forays of Mom’s.  And yet… and yet, even with those unplanned stops, we always made our planned stops.  And almost always on time!  It just dawned on me.  Just now.  You don’t suppose he was smarter than I thought, do you?  Maybe he didn’t bother planning the stops, but he must have taken them in to account.  Those detailed planning sessions began a day or two before the trip began.  And the detailed plan for the return trip began almost the very moment we arrived at our goal!

Today, we have so many more tools at our disposal.  In those days, planning involved stacks of maps.  Dad was not opposed to going to AAA for their Triptiks.  He loved Triptiks.

I no longer begin my roadtrip planning with stacks of maps. Or with Triptiks from AAA, though I DO love those tools.  No, I might not ever even look at a paper road map during my planning.

Google maps, and MapQuest, and RandMcNally online provide my mapping needs.  But, like Dad, each leg is carefully planned.  And there’s no room for sightseeing!

Planning for our currently planned California trip began 3 weeks ago.  All potential permutations of the drive were considered. Some of these didn’t include driving.  I looked in to driving the car and staying in hotels.  I looked in to flying out and renting a car and staying in hotels.  I looked in to taking the trailer along.  The trailer won.  Of course.

I looked in to driving I80 to Sacramento, then south to Orange County, stopping at Yosemite along the way.  I looked at the possibility of driving via Denver, St. George, UT, and then through Las Vegas on to Orange County.  And I looked at the “southern route”.  South won out (the weather, of course!)

Next I planned each leg of the journey, taking in to consideration hours of daylight, speed and expected miles per gallon.  Finally, I set about making arrangements with campgrounds along the way.

Next, I assembled my own version of a Triptik.  This is a one inch binder with tabs for each day of the trip.  In to each tab, I inserted the appropriate form of camper checklist (Departure list, Arrival list), a printout of the email from the campground confirming the reservation.  And (drum roll please) my Minutiae Form.

This is a printout from a corresponding Excel spreadsheet.  Each page has places for the starting location for the day, the name, address, phone,  website and cost of the day’s destination campground, a place to enter the starting time and the ending time.  There’s a section for recording data about each fill up along the way (place, miles drive, gallons purchased, cost per gallon, total cost & time of stop).  There’s a segment for entering other, non-planned purchases.  All this goes into the binder.  At the end of each day, this information will be typed in to the Excel Spreadsheet, and the mpg for each leg of the day’s trip as well as the overall mpg for the day will be automatically calculated, along with the cost of the day.

And finally, the GPS is pulled out, and each leg of the journey is input so that each days journey is at our fingertips.

And when the trip is over, I’ll never look at the data again (except to enter the pertinent data in the trailer’s log book.)

Category: Eric's Life, Our Travels  | 2 Comments
Hitting the Road
February 20th, 2010 | Author: Eric Hays-Strom

The winter chill seems to have settled in permanently over our home.  We’re now in record breaking territory, as we have had in excess of 1 inch of snow on the ground for over 75 days.  The previous record (records are for this locale, only) was 73 days back in 1974.  And, unless we have a major heatwave, this will continue for at least another 30 days!  Snow in our yard is still well over 1 foot deep.  And there’s more snow coming on Sunday.  In fact, it has snowed every Sunday here for the past month.

In light of this, and because I have an overpowering desire to see my grand-niece, Karen, and grand-nephew, Bennett, we have begun planning our “Really Big Spring Trip”.  In less than 3 weeks, Scott and I will set off for Corona del Mar, CA.  We’ll spend a day and a half seeing the family, then head for Alamogordo, spending an evening in Fountain Hills, AZ, so we can stop in and spend a little time with my Aunt Jeanie.  We’ll spend a day with Scott’s parents in Alamogordo, then return home.

Our trip begins March 10, and we get home, with luck, on March 20.  As we did last year, we’ll blog about our journey daily while on the road.

To see our planned route for this trip, down below this map is a link that says “View Larger Map”.  Click on that, and it will take you to a map with the route highlighted.


View Larger Map

Category: Our Travels  | One Comment
Some Thanks and a Request
February 11th, 2010 | Author: Eric Hays-Strom

While adjusting to a new member in our family, and the inevitable changes in lifestyle (I have to take him for a walk in the bitter cold at 10:30 at night… THAT is a big adjustment) life hasn’t been all fun and puppy kisses.

Many of those who get my updates are members of my family, and are intimately involved in what I’m about to write.  This post is for the 2/3s of my readers who are NOT family.

This week, our family is reeling from the news that one of my young nephews (I’m not naming him, as I don’t know if his family would want that disseminated) has been diagnosed with lung cancer.  The family is blessed to have several professionals in the health care profession, doctors, nurses, administrators.  These individuals have jumped to the plate, and are moving heaven and earth and the medical bureaucracy to get my nephew all the bestest of the bestest of care and treatment.  That’s what they do so well, among many other things.

I can’t be of any help to my cousin and her son (the nephew in question) when it comes to medical things.  I don’t know a tibia from a fibula… except I think they’re both bones.

So I do what I can.  I want to thank all of you who read this blog.  Specifically, I want to thank the Prayer Ministry of MCC Omaha, my local congregation.  I want to thank the Prayer Ministry team at Resurrection MCC in Houston, Texas.  And I want to thank all the Prayer Ministry people with Excel International de Colores, an International organization providing weekend spirituality courses, similar to retreats.  All of you who are praying for my nephew, your prayers mean more than I could possibly express.

And to those not in my family, and not in one of the aforementioned prayer ministries, please add “Eric’s Nephew and family” to your prayer list.  They need all the prayers they can get.  And while you’re at it, add the medical personnel overseeing his care.

Many thanks to all of you!

Category: Spirituality  | Comments off
More on Our New Puppy
February 11th, 2010 | Author: Eric Hays-Strom

Okay, as I’ve said before, he’s not a puppy.  But it’s hard not to think of him as a puppy.  He’s got the most charming personality, and loves to give doggy kisses!

As I mentioned before, Gary wasn’t sure he liked the puppy’s name, and was considering changing it.  Monday, Gary says “I really don’t like calling him Buddy.  I can’t remember that!  Besides, it’s a dumb name for a dog.”

“Well, Gary, what do you want to call him?”  I’m thinking ‘Buddy’s a dumb name?  It’s one of the big 10 for dogs!’

“I’m thinking Pookie.”

I give Gary a stunned stare.  Surely he’s kidding!  Pookie?  POOKIE???? All I can think of is ‘talk about stupid dog names!’ (My apologies to anyone reading who may have named their dog Pookie.  It’s just stupid for US.  Really.)

“Uh, no.  We will NOT name this poor dog Pookie.”

“Okay, I guess you’re right.  We’ll keep it Buddy.”

And so it was done, I thought.  No name change for Buddy.  Tuesday, I tell one of my best friends “We have decided not to rename him.”  The chapter is closed.  The End has been posted to final page of the book.  It’s decided.

Tuesday afternoon, Gary says “I just can never remember Buddy’s name.  I want to change it.”

“Don’t EVEN mention the name Pookie.  It is NOT going to happen.”

“How about Buster?”

I like Buster.  It’s a good name, and it REALLY fits this puppy.  So, Buster it is.  Name change is now a fait accompli.  So, as promised consider this your Puppy Name Change Notification.  Pictures still pending!  In about 5 years when his dynamo runs down, and he’s calm, I’ll see if I can get one!

Oh, and poor Nikki. She just doesn’t know what to make of this interloper in her life.  I’ve been getting lots more cozy cuddly time from her.  She’ll come around!

Category: Eric's Life, Pets, Ramblings  | 2 Comments
Ophidiophobia
February 04th, 2010 | Author: Eric Hays-Strom

My last post briefly referred to the “snakicidal tendencies” of my earlier years.  I really was quite surprised at the number of people who have commented on that portion of my post, a post primarily about a new dog!

Those snakicidal tendencies… probably better referred to as herpetocidal tendencies… stem from the fact that I really have a problem with ophidiophobia.  Ophidiophobia is a variety of herpetophobia, a generalized fear of reptiles.  Wikipedia says “an ophidiophobic would not only fear them [snakes] when in live contact but also dreads to think about them or even see them on TV or in pictures.”  That pretty well describes me.

I have held snakes.  That didn’t gross me out or anything.  But the reality is I fear them at a very basic level.  Like the definition, I have problems watching them on TV… my hands sweat, my heart rate increases, my breathing gets fast and thready.  I get jumpy, having a hard time sitting still.  My body tenses like rock.  I used to hate thumbing through the “S” volume of our encyclopedia as a kid.  When I would push myself and come to the snakes, if I turned a page and discovered that my finger was on a picture of a snake, I’d darn near wet myself!  Scott loves going to the herpetology displays in zoos.  I tag along.  I hate it.  When we finally finish, I have to go to the bathroom, then drink huge quantities of water.  Then go to the bathroom again.

Where does it come from, this ophidiophobia?  I suspect it came from my mother.  I think she genetically implanted it in my DNA before I was even born.  Mom was terrified of snakes too.  She came by her fear a little more naturally.  She often told me a story about how that fear developed.  It seems that back in the 30s, the lake she lived by with her family (Lake Manawa, south of Council Bluffs, Iowa) came very close to drying out.  Of course, being the 30s, it was the pit of the depression.  Mom tells that she was out playing on the dried lake floor.  Maybe she was with her sister, my Aunt Jeanie, I don’t know.  As I recall the story, she stayed out later than she was supposed to, then went running home.  On the way, her foot caught in a deep fissure in the dried mud (you know how mud dries… in a jig-saw design?) and her shoe came off.  Arriving home, my grandfather, her dad, was extremely upset with her over losing that shoe, so he made her go out with him to find and retrieve the shoe (remember, this was the Great Depression; I’m sure the expense of having to buy a new pair of shoes would not have been greeted warmly by Grandpa.)  Anyhow, at some point they stepped over a log and there was a snake.  As I recall the story, the snake was large, and grandfather grabbed mom and jerked her away from it, thus implanting her fear of snakes.  Also, as I recall the story, the snake was a rattlesnake.  But I am not sure of that part.

And so, from my earliest memories, snakes were very much NOT liked by mom.  I remember Dad taking snakes caught in our yard, little garden variety snakes, never longer than a foot, foot and a half, down to the sewer grating where he killed it then dumped it down the sewer.

Years later, while working at a Boy Scout Summer Camp as a young man (21) I had two more experiences (in about 3 days) with snakes.  The first one was while out hiking.  I startled a snake, and the sound of it slithering off made me jump.  I followed the snake, getting relatively close to it, fascinated, and trying to overcome my fear.  Later, I had the Camp instructor who was teaching about snakes and reptiles help me to hold a snake.  It was ok.  Even managed to keep my terror under control.  But, then, the next morning, any progress I made was erased.

It was my habit, as the person in charge of the aquatics program, to get up before my staff, go down to the pool, do a walk around making sure everything was okay.  Then, against all safety rules, regulations, and common sense, I’d go for a swim.  The morning following my snake handling break-through, I decided to forego my walk around, and just dove in to the pool and started swimming.  I was about half way across the pool when I heard a shout.  It was the camp ranger, a big burly man, standing on the edge of the pool off to the side waving and motioning for me to swim towards him. “HURRY! HURRY! Swim like you’re in a race for your life!”  So, I swam toward him as fast as I could.  As I neared the edge of the pool he reached down, caught me by one wrist and yanked me out of the water.

I was sure I was in big trouble!  He just set me down and pointed.  There, in the pool, not far behind me was a rattler.

“We’re having a bit of a dry season up here.  They sometimes come to the pool, drawn by the water and the mice that come around here.  They sometimes fall in.  You should look before you leap.”  He scooped the snake out, killed it, then left, taking the corpse with him.  Nothing more was said about my irresponsible swim.  And I never swam alone there again… much to the chagrin of my staff, as I thenceforth made one of them wake up early with me and watch while I swam.  And I ALWAYS looked for snakes!

But that didn’t end my experiences with snakes.  When I moved back to Council Bluffs in 1998, we lived about 6 houses from a big creek that runs through town, under the 16th Street Viaduct.  One day, coming home from work, I tromped up the stairs to our apartment on the 2nd floor.  As I entered the room, I thought I sensed movement, and reached to turn on the light.  There in the middle of the floor was a garden snake, about 18 inches long.

I screamed.

I turned, and ran down the stairs to the living room, and sat with my friends until Scott could come home and go get the snake out of our apartment for me.  A few days later, there was another smaller snake.  Again, I screamed, and ran downstairs, and waited for Scott.  This soon became a pattern.  I finally got smart, and waited for Scott to come home before going upstairs.  It wasn’t long before we discovered the walls of the house were infested with snakes.  And can you believe it?  I lived there for 10 months knowing that!

One night, I awoke in the middle of the night, feeling the call of nature.  Not thinking I trudged through the apartment, and in to the bathroom.  I stepped on one of them.

I screamed.

Category: Eric's Life, Ramblings  | Comments off
New Member of our Family
February 02nd, 2010 | Author: Eric Hays-Strom

Anyone who knows me, knows I love animals.  Especially dogs, with cats coming in a close second.  But I love all animals.  I used to hold out some of that love for snakes.  I hated them.  I viewed it as my duty to society to eradicate as many of the slithering critters as possible.  However, my cousin Bonnie Marie put a stop to that.  Not by criticizing my snakicidal tendency, but by what I think she was so good at… by reason.

“Eric, why do you love animals?”

“I don’t know.  I suppose it’s because they are God’s creatures, God’s creation.  Man can reason and understand.  Animals, can’t, so they can’t understand how to live in our world.”  (As an aside, I’m no longer so certain the bit about reason and understanding is necessarily true.)

“But you hate snakes.” It was not a hard observation to make.  We were in the car, and I’d just swerved to purposely run over one.

“Yes.”

“God didn’t create snakes?”

“Well, yes.  God did.”

“You said (in a part of the conversation I left out) that you love all God’s creation.”

“Uh-huh.”  I might not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I ain’t burned out, either!  I knew where this was going.

“And you don’t see anything wrong with what you just did.”

I met her last comment with silence.  No more was said.  I won’t pick up a snake.  I’m terrified of snakes.  I think I’d be hard pressed to say that ‘I love snakes’.  But, they get a pass from me, now.  We have a truce.  I won’t swerve out of my way to hit them, and they won’t drop out of the clear blue sky and bite me.

So what, you might ask?  This week, we have a new addition to our family.  Scott and I arrived home from church about 3 pm.  There was a… noise… coming from Gary’s room.  I knocked and walked in.  There was Gary, and there was a dog. (Yes, the bit about a snake was just a side story.)

The dog’s name is Buddy.  “How old is Buddy?” I ask.  “I don’t know. He’s just a puppy.”  “What’s his breed.” “I don’t know.”  “Who is his vet?  Has he been vaccinated?” “I don’t know.”  “Is he house-broken?” Wait for it…. wait for it…. “I don’t know.”  “What CAN you tell me about him?”  “His name is Buddy.  Steve had to get rid of him, so he brought him here.”  “Do you WANT him?” “Yeah, kind of.”

[A little bit about Steve.  We have a tense relationship with Steve.  Over the years some things have gone missing from our house.  A camera.  A video camera.  A laptop.  We always thought it was another man, Josh, who was Gary’s nephew.  But when the last item, a camera, went missing, Josh was in Oregon.  He was there because I told him he was no longer welcome in my house, whether or not he was Gary’s nephew.  So he moved home, where he is now a ward of the state, having stolen a car. It took us another several years to catch on it was Steve.  Steve would be banished as well, but he is one of the very few friends Gary has.  Since Gary can no longer leave the house, we let Steve come over, as long as he’s never unattended.  Steve is not the most responsible of adults.  When I say “Some people should not be allowed to have pets…” Steve is who I am referring to.]

Gary’s been asking for over a year for a new dog, ever since Lacy went to the Bridge, so I knew he wanted Buddy.

So, Buddy came out to the living room to greet us, and spend a little time with us.  Nikki isn’t too sure what to make of this interloper, so she’s reacting the way she always does when she’s not sure… she’s scared.

Buddy came galloping in… he never walks, he always runs.  And immediately, the leg goes up.  Nope, not house-broken.

A little while later, I go back to talk to Gary. “Gary, I have some questions you need to ask Steve.”  Gary goes me one better, and immediately calls Steve, then hands me the phone.

Eric: “Steve, how old is Buddy?”

Steve:  “He was 6 months when we got him.” Like that tells me anything.

Eric:  “When was that?”

Steve:  “Last February.  Or March.”  Buddy is 18 months old.

Eric:  “I see.  Is he house-broken?”  Leading question, there.

Steve:  “We’ve been working on it, but no, not really.”  Yeah, right.

Eric:  “Okay.  Is he up to date on his shots.”  I already know the answer.

Steve:  “When we got him, he was.” In other words, no.

Eric:  “Who’s his vet?”  Again, I already know the answer.

Steve:  “I don’t know.”  Yup, that’s the answer I expected.

Eric:  “What’s his breed?”

Steve:  “Half Schnauzer, half Chihuahua.” Really?  I don’t see any Chihuahua in him!  He’s easily twice the size of any Chihuahua I’ve ever seen!

Well, I’ll keep the rest of our conversations on the dog out of the story, and just give you the facts.  Since Gary can’t walk the dog, I do.  I take him 6 times a day for a walk, but should probably go more.  I’m getting good exercise!  By the end of the day, yesterday, Gary (who hasn’t done anything for the dog) had had it.  He didn’t want the dog.  So he called Steve up and told him to come get the dog.  Surprise, surprise, Steve said NO!  Gary asked me to take Buddy to the Pound today, and I agreed.

But that didn’t set well with me.  It made me feel like a bad person to consign poor Buddy to the shelter.  Scott thinks Buddy is so cute, and still young enough, that they’ll have no problem adopting him out.  But, they have to tell prospective adopters everything they know, and I’m thinking the house-breaking problem might be an issue.

So this morning when Gary got up, we talked.  He really does kind of want the dog.  Okay, he really wants the dog.  Gary told me that after we decided to take Buddy to the shelter he (Gary) cried.  It turns out that Gary wanted me to take Buddy to the shelter because Gary thought that was what I wanted to do.  By this morning, he thinks it was my decree, not his decision.  Men may be from Mars and women from Venus… but Gary… he’s from Andromeda!  He doesn’t feel it’s fair to me to have to walk him, and everything else in the way of care, and to a degree I agree with him.  We have to walk him, because our back yard is not fenced in completely, and the first time out he made a beeline for the street.  “COME!” is not a command he understands.  Well, maybe he understands it… he just chooses not to obey it!

Oh, I should probably add that I told Gary in no uncertain terms that this house would not become home to a litter of puppies, so since Nikki is 8 years old and unspayed, Buddy HAS to be neutered.  And Gary has to pay for it.  I told him I thought it would come to about $400.  I think that weighed in his decision to take Buddy to the Pound.

I got on the phone today and called our vet.  I explained our situation, and got the facts.  See, not only did I think  the neutering would run $400, but I thought we’d have to take Buddy in for a checkup first… at about $100.  It turns out, I was way wrong.  They’ll do the neutering without a preliminary checkup, or we can pay for an optional pre-screening which is, they said, about the same as a physical.  They’ll bring him up to date on all shots.  And they’ll do the neutering with laser surgery if I want… an optional procedure, but recommended in Buddy’s case.  And all of it comes to $295.  There’ll be a second round of vaccinations in 3 weeks for another $42.

Scott and I talked, and we agreed we would pay $110 of it.  That’s half the neutering fee, and all of the laser option fee.

And this coming Saturday, Scott and I will jerry-rig a fence along the south side of the back yard so we can put Buddy out without as much supervision.

One more thing I learned… Buddy goes all night… seven hours… without accidents.  He IS house-broken.  But he’s a compulsive marker.  All he’s doing is marking his territory.  Neutering should help with that.  Already, I’m seeing less of this behavior.  The frequent walking, the controlling water and food intake… it’s all helping to get us to the point where we’ll be able to allow Buddy to spend time with us, instead of keeping him locked up in Gary’s room with Gary.

Now, if we can get Buddy (stay tuned for a name change!  None of us like that one) to calm down for a little while, we’ll get a picture of him posted here in the next few days… or weeks…

Category: Our Life Together, Pets  | 3 Comments
Taxes, Our Responsibility, Our Right
January 26th, 2010 | Author: Eric Hays-Strom

For over a decade, I have relied on the services of TurboTax for preparation of taxes.  Each year I do Scott’s taxes, my taxes, Gary’s taxes (his are EASY) Dad’s taxes.  I used to do Pam’s taxes.  If I had to do these manually, I’d be stuck up a creek!  By and large, though, with TurboTax, I’ve had it pretty easy.  Not so much for 2009.  I’ll come back to this in a moment.

One of the most resounding lessons I recall learning from my Dad as I was growing up was that, in a land that guarantees us so many rights, it is essential to remember that for every right, there are responsibilities.  We have the right to free speech, but we have the responsibility to exercise that right appropriately (the cliche about yelling FIRE! in a crowded theater comes to mind.)  It was the sense of responsibility for defending those rights that encouraged me to join the US Army.  We have the right to vote, but we have the responsibility to actually DO so, and do so from an informed conscience.  I admit, this last responsibility is one I’ve neglected for a few election cycles.

Scott and I embraced the opportunity afforded to us by the State of Iowa to legally marry.  We did so because of the rights that come to us as a result of that piece of paper, the marriage license.  I never forget, though, that there are responsibilities that come with many, perhaps all, of those rights.

Over the years I hear from friends about this thing called the “marriage penalty” that come at tax time.  This year, I’ve learned it for myself.

First of all, here’s what Scott and I now have to do.  I have to prepare my own individual tax forms, Federal, Nebraska, & Iowa tax forms.  I file as Head of Household because I have, until August of this year, supported Gary.  Then I have to prepare Scott’s tax forms, Federal, Nebraska, & Iowa.  He files Single.  THEN, I have to prepare a third set of tax forms, Federal, Nebraska, & Iowa, combined for Scott and I.

When it comes time to file, I file Scott’s Federal and Nebraska forms, MY Federal & Nebraska forms, and OUR Iowa forms. 

First of all, I find it totally annoying to have to go through that.  But that’s the way it is, with our current laws.  Scott and I are only married, from a mere legal perspective, in Iowa.

Generally every year, Scott and I get refunds from the Federal & Nebraska returns, I get a refund from Iowa, and Scott pays to Iowa an amount roughly equal to his Nebraska refund.

As a result of the joint return for Iowa, we owe Iowa taxes an amount slightly larger than if we were to file all our forms individually.  But, overall, we are only paying combined a little less than if we did individually.  But, looking at all the forms, if we were legally able to file “Married filing Jointly” all three taxes we’d take a hit of about $1,000.00.

So, now I understand the Marriage Penalty my “Het-married” friends are talking about!

And you know what?  When that day comes, I’ll proudly and happily pay that penalty!  Because, the right to be legally married to the person I love, a right denied to us, as second class citizens of the United States of America, is a precious right, and it is one I’ll gladly and proudly take responsibility for… even if it means losing $1,000 or more in refunds.

Category: Our Life Together, Ranting  | Comments off
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