For The Boids

It was high time Evelyn learned the difference between a "boid" and a bat. So I took Christa and Evelyn to the Henry Doorly Zoo, and we saw about a million examples of each.

The Zoo is quite nice for Lincoln's size, and considering one of the largest zoos in the country is in nearby Omaha. They had a red panda - I didn't know there was such a thing. They had two huge seals, but one died the day before we got there. They were selling seal salad sandwiches in the food court (Kidding.) Evelyn climbed all over everything.

She is wearing a million hair clips. Another mother remarked, "Did you have a hard time picking one out this morning?" Well ... as it turns out, Evelyn cut her own hair a few days ago. I thought this was industrious and thoughtful of her. Her mother didn't think so. The million hair clips are an attempt to make Evelyn presentable.

We ended the afternoon by going over to Evelyn's grandmothers, where we all talked about Knitting for Novices. Evelyn fed me Club crackers. I told Christa that Evelyn is adorable and she replied, "Well ... she has her moments." I bailed before seeing any of them. This, friends and neighbors, is the perogative of the childless.

Susan and Mike and I went to The Indian Oven for dinner. Chickpeas and potatoes, jasmine rice, and deep fried vegetable pakoora, with a nice sparkling Pinor Noir. Heavenly! We then went to the University of Nebraska dairy store for ice cream. I had Karmel Kashew that was very, very intense without being chunky.

The last social call for the day was Mike and Lorrie. Mike was my BFF through high school and college, and Lorrie is his wife of 11 years. They are both wheelchair-riding individuals, and they pilot around each other like a pair of Shriners in tiny cars - nary a bump or a scrape between them.

As it normally happens when Mike and I get together, we spent hours talking about his 8 brothers and sisters, plus the assorted nieces and nephews, romantic interests, etc. It's like War and Peace without all the vodka.

Today I got everything cleaned up - new clothes purchased, plane tickets reconfirmed - for California. I hope they have a budget in place. If we get a wildfire chasing on our bikes, I'd like to think fire fighters are around somewhere. Catch you there!

Let Them Brush Your Rock and Roll Hair

If your ship ends up 1500 miles inland, the lighthouse at Linoma Beach will keep you safe. Isn't that good to know?

Linoma Beach is on the Platte River, halfway between Lincoln and Omaha. Back in the early 80's, my friend Mike was in a pretty bad car accident, and he went to an Omaha hospital to recover. Mike's mother Toni used to drive a whole carload of us up to see Mike every Sunday. Sometimes we would stop at Linoma Beach on the way back and eat BBQ ribs. They were pretty darn good.

I passed the lighthouse on my bike travelling from Lincoln to Omaha on Monday. It was a good 45 mile trip, fairly flat, and 2 1/2 hours of riding. Lisa and the kids and I went for a huge Fuddrucker's burger (this is going to be a constant theme through this whole blog, I'm afraid). Then to Penze's Spices for a stroll through olfactory heaven.

We ended up down in Omaha's Old Market district, one of my favorite places on earth to browse around. I used to make a bus pilgramage to there once a year or so. The Antiquarian, the most unique book store in the world, however, was not there any more. The Antiquarian had four floors of old books, and darn good ones too. When you arrived at the door the manager would greet you with, "Wooouuuullllddd yyyyoooouuuu lllliiikkke aaaa ccccuuupppp offff ccccoffffeeee?" And a group of guys would always be sitting on the couches talking obscure philosophy. These people loved books above all else. I miss it.

But we did get to Ted and Wally's for homemade ... and I mean, really homemade, ice cream. I had vanilla ice cream swirled with cran-grape sorbet. Mmmmmm!! Then down to Drastic Plastic for some used CD's. We capped off the day with a Gilmore Girls marathon and some Wii Bowling.

After fixing my third flat tire (yes, I'm cursed), I biked back to Lincoln. It rained about half the way and my bike was full of sand ... but it was a fun time. I now am quite ready for the California leg.

Lemme tell you something. Valentino's in Lincoln is still the best pizza I've ever had. And the East Coast has pizza places on every corner, you know. Every different kind of Val's pizza has different spices in the sauce. So Sausage, for example, has a bit more fennel. Yummy!!!

So I met my friend Christa at the Valentino's buffet and we made a serious run through all the different kinds of pizza. Her daughter Evelyn, who is approaching three, loves Pizza as well, but also likes their little deep-fat fried battered Corn Bites. "CORN!!!!" she yelled as she bit into one. In Nebraska, you must learn the important stuff early in life. Like corn.

After taking their dog Frankie the Dachsund for a walk, we went down to Home Depot where I got to drive Evelyn through the aisles in a car-shaped shopping cart. When I snapped the picture above, she had just attempted to kidnap Travellin' Tom and take him home. The lil' heart melter!

I just love the espresso down at The Mill, so I ended up there for a double. The crema is so thick you can lay a spoon on top of it. Then I retrieved my cell phone down at the Zoo Bar (see Friday), went home and had grilled steak and cucumbers and tomatoes. What can I say. If I don't help the Nebraskans thin the herd of cattle down, they'll just take over the joint. I'm just doing my part.

"Let the good times roll. Let them leave you up in the air. Let them brush your rock and roll hair." What does it mean? No one can explain it, but if you know it on an instinctual level, you are having a good time. Like I am.

Saturday, I got to visit Susan, my high school bud, and her husband Mike. She made Zucchini Pie and raved about the awful linoleum they had pulled up a few weeks ago. Some things about her do not change. She still loves great music, says exactly what she thinks, and tells you to f*** off as a sign of affection.

There are a lot of Susan stories, but here's the one most people remember. We skipped the prom together to go see The Outsiders, after which I took her home, promptly backed up her driveway ... and right into the drainage ditch. So I rung the doorbell and called my folks from inside. Susan's mother was very nice and pitched in to help, while Susan was laughing hysterically in the corner. "It was so cute," she described it later. Ehhhh. I dunno. I'm still working through it.

This was the first time I met Mike, and he's really cool. He's a prof in the English department at the University of Nebraska, so we talked about some of my old eccentric professors, and about academia and old movies. Susan is the Young Adult's librarian at Loren Eisley library, and she is very protective of her customers. She's the kind of person I'd want to guide my reading my life at that age. But then again, she pretty much did that with music - she got my hooked on The Clash and The Sex Pistols and all that. And I find myself unearthing old treasures like The Smiths, and she'd say, "I told you 20 years ago about them. But did you listen?? No-hoh!"

Travellin' Tom and I went out on our first bike ride this morning. I rented a cool Trek Pilot on Saturday, which developed a spontaneous flat tire by Sunday morning. (Where did this curse come from?) Having fixed it, I cut a diagonal path through the town, along Lincoln's newly constructed bike trails. They're really cool, and there were many bikers out and about. Monday I'm going to riding from Lincoln to Omaha, about 45 miles, so this was a really good warm up.

What's in Omaha besides Warren Buffet? That would be my brother Bret and his family, off to the left there. My folks and I drove out there for an early dinner of barbecued country-style ribs, corn, cucumbers, green beans, homemade french bread and pie. They had used a hand truck to load me back in the car afterwards.

It's been like ten years since I've seen them. My sister-in-law Lisa and I share the same birthday, although in different years, and we had lots to talk about. My niece Taber (holding Trvaellin' Tom with Lisa) is about to start her senior year, preparing to do the veteranary school track. I let her practice on Tom (some cosmetic surgery would do him a lot of good). Tess, who Tom is looking at, is an avid reader and wonderful to talk to. And Cameron, my only nephew, seems to be the only jock ever in the Riecke lineage.

I didn't mention Bret, my brother. After a hug, it took 30 seconds for us to devolve into a volley of name-calling ("Scumbag! Jerk! Fool!") It was so dysfunctional. Hee hee.

Well, the rule is ... if you feed Craig he keeps coming back to your door. So Monday I'm riding out to their place. More meat will be involved, I'm pretty sure. I am such an environmental disappointment. Oh well.

Life Without Dramamine

I love O'Hare. It's the only airport that plays blues over the PA. And it has a Starbucks every couple hundred feet or so - this, to me, is the perfect SPD (Starbucks Population Density).

It also has thousands of travellers, some of whom get asked to pose with their buddy for pictures.

I haven't been on a plane in 10 years, so I was a little taken-aback at the sneaker-inspection checkpoint. (Had I known, I would've worn cleaner shoelaces.) My first airplane ride was in a cramped Cessna way back in the 80's, and I was sicker than a dog. Every ride since then, I've been doped up on Dramamine ... always drowsy and dehydrated.

This time, no Dramamine. I'll take my chances. And after all, that's what the innocent looking white bag is for. The comedian Shelly Berman describes this bag: "It has instructions in three different languages: French, Italian and Hebrew. Roughly translated, they all mean IN HERE, SLOB!"

But no such illness came to pass and I arrived in Lincoln Nebraska at 2:30, bright-eyed and ready for action. My folks picked me up and took me back to the home I spent many years growing up in.

Immediately, trouble arose between Travellin' Tom and the "one I left behind" - my stuffed raccoon Rocky, whom I left in a bamboo chair when I moved to Utica, NY in '89. (Rocky's the one with the stocking cap and raincoat.) A fight broke out. It was very awkward. Can't we all just get along?

Dinner was a succulent grilled pork roast wrapped in Applewood Smoked bacon. Vegetarian Times called me on my cell phone and notified me that my subscription has been cancelled. Topped off with grilled corn, stir-fried hot curry vegetables and rice, and a refreshing cucumber salad, it was a fantastic meal. The fact that I didn't have to cook anything was a very nice bonus.

And then I went to The Zoo, a Lincoln institution (http://www.zoobar.com/). A blues bar to its core, the walls were lined with photos of Chicago blues legends, sketches of folks who played there (Koko Taylor, Magic Slim). Little paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling and Christmas lights lined the walls. I asked why they hadn't taken them down yet. The manager replied, "The ladder's all the way over there." He pointed to the back of the bar behind the stage. Yes, folks. Keep your priorities straight!

The Royal Prawns opened - surf guitar music and some soul. The Hundred Miles did a couple of sets of rockabilly. It was a great time! I love the crowd there. The guy next to me was drinking $10 shots of top-shelf tequilla, and between us we tried to name every Blues musician whose last name was King (BB, Freddy, Albert, etc. etc.)

Lincoln has changed a lot, and I'm going to do some exploring!

How the 2009 Vacation Pretty Near Ended Before It Began

"Sideways". Yeah, that pretty much describes it.

You feel like you're progressing, moving 60 mph down the road and your hands firmly on the steering wheel. The horizon looks reachable through your windshield. Then someone tells you, "That's the driver's side window."

Dealing with the medical-industrial complex feels like that.

OK, so I had planned this vacation since February, when I put down the deposit on the 2009 Wine Country Bike Tour package. I haven't been anywhere in 2 and a half years, and caregiving tends to burn you out after that long. (I take care of my wife, who has secondary-progressive MS, in our home.) Four weeks ago, I called the Central Park Rehabilitive Care Facility, where Kathy goes to a day program twice a week, and asked for a two-week block of time in late July, early August.

The admissions coordinator at Central Park said, "No problem!" Two weeks was fine. They had open beds and everything. So I started working on the details - getting the mandatory PRI (Patient R-something Instrument) required for nursing home admission in NY State, scheduling all the stops and starts of transportation, therapy, etc. etc. The Day Program coordinator even pitched in and made some phone calls for me. Everything was going fine.

At the beginning of this week, I had a question and called the admissions coordinator. She wasn't there - she was gone to England on family business. The business officer, being her temporary backup, asked me some details on my wife.

She said, "Hold on a second."

Five minutes later, she returned. "Uhh, I just talked to my head of Nursing. She has no record of Katherine Squair coming on Thursday. And we have no beds open."

I said, "Huh???" (Tex Avery-style eyeball-burst goes here.)

"Well, not only that ... even if we had a bed open, we wouldn't take her. We don't do two-week stays here," the business coordinator replied.

Now let's get this straight. An Admissions Coordinator does not know the most basic detail of admission. And she's making money doing this?

But in context it makes sense. This is the same medical-industrial system that produced the following exemplary workers:

• A Home Health Aide who was convinced a mammogram caused her 24 hours of vomitting
• A nurse who stuck a foley Catheter up the wrong tube and left before checking her work.
• Another HHA who left for the day, only to return 20 minutes later and proclaim, "I put on your shoes by mistake." Her shoes were Crocs. She had put on Kathy's sneakers.

OK, back to the nursing home. Let's just say that if you throw enough social workers at the most intractable problem, you will eventually solve it. So, Kathy has a place to stay. I have the traditional Survivor Guilt - I get to escape this sideways world for two weeks, and she is stuck deeper in it. But I will return to pull her from the muck.


In the meantime, Travellin' Tom and I are getting packed. We're going to Nebraska for a week and California for a week. My aspirations are high. There are lots of interesting people in the world, and I'm going to find me a few ... ride many a mile ... breathe in the fragrance of the almighty grape. Tom's ambitions are more down-to-earth. "I'm going to eat a burrito as big as me!"

Get your helmet on!