Good People to Know

In April 2008 a man identifying himself by the name of Wesley Wyndham-Price stood to make a comment in the Salt Lake City Council and berated them for their lack of emergency preparation. His chief complaint was that the city had no plan in place to deal with a zombie outbreak. The City Council, for a variety of reasons, including the date, did not take him seriously. They have not had reason to regret this yet, but they might.

Like them, I do not have a specific zombie plan, but I have at least thought about it and even gone as far as to read some of the literature available. Honestly, though, I'm something of a procrastinator, and I haven't quite gotten around to working on the problem. I have, however, made a list of those people who would be most useful to stick with in the event of a zombie outbreak.

It is an important question. When the zombies rise you're going to need a variety of skills and abilities to survive, but large groups are hard to hide and more susceptible to hidden carriers. So you want to pack each person in the group with the most skills you can. Anyone who can do many things will be more valuable than the person who is useful for only one. You just have to make sure there's overlap so the loss of one member won't cripple the group.

I'd want Sarah with me, of course, she's an excellent shot. Holly can drive anything from bike to bus and her husband Wade is really good with tools, so they'd be welcome. They'd probably want to bring their son, but humanity needs a future so that's okay, too, I guess. Ex-ranger current-cop Lockard seems like an easy pick, but then again if he gets turned on us, he'd be a really hard zombie to put down. Still, I think the ranger training would outweigh that danger. The list goes on.

In fact, this week, I added another person, my brother's girlfriend Ellie. Bill has always been on the list and his recent firefighter experiences only make him more valuable (he's chainsaw certified!). Ellie is even better. I spent a weekend with them and my father at a Wilderness First Aid class and every story I heard from Ellie just further demonstrated her fitness for a zombie survival group. She's a former EMT with significant wilderness medical skills (she was recertifying as a Wilderness First Responder and one of the most knowledgeable people in the room after the instructors). Besides that, though (remember, a variety of skills in each person is key), she can maintain and repair pretty much any automobile you throw at her. Perhaps most importantly, she has demonstrated an ability to adapt to a variety of evolving situations, keeping a cool head when it's most necessary, as it certainly will be during a zombie outbreak. I must admit, I'm pretty excited to add her to my zombie survivor group list.

It's a pretty good list. I'm pleased with it, with one glaring omission. I'm not on it. I don't offer many of the skills that would be required to survive the outbreak. Zombies haven't been shown to be deterred by attractive product design, I'm afraid. Thinking about it further, though, I have realized that I do have one thing I can offer and it's pretty crucial. I have the list. Think about that when the outbreak comes and you're gathering your band of survivors. Call me first. Please?

I don't know why I bother...

Clearly my brother does not need me to promote him... he does just fine on his own.



This was last week. Next week he's going to a bikini pageant party. Seriously.

I can't tell you how happy I am that he's the one in charge of my bachelor party.

Hot!

I have often maintained that I am the less attractive Smith brother. Those of you who have not met my brother may find it hard to believe that he could possibly be handsomer than I am. Well, to reassure you, he's not MUCH more attractive, but he is both taller (by a hair) and darker than I am. Also, he wears his facial hair better, when he chooses to grow it. For the past few years he has also been in much better shape than I am (I'm working out again, so maybe that disparity will diminish - I won the last arm wrestling match we had years ago and have been smart enough not to let him try again).

Also, and this is where he really gains the points, he's a bit more adventurous than I am, more daring. He has a certain boldness that so many (men and women both) find charming. He's the second child and he and I play those respective roles pretty well.

You can take this whole summer as a prime example of this. He started with a stint on a research boat out of Woodshole on a NOAA cruise, saving baby seals or something like that.



Okay, so heavy weather gear isn't his best look, but then he drove from Massachusetts to Wyoming for the express purpose of fighting forest fires. Yeah, that's right, my brother now has firefighter chic going for him, too. It produces pictures like this:


(he's also more of a ham than I am)

He was officially stationed in Wyoming, but they sent him to California for weeks at a time. He helped fight the American River Complex fires and the SHU Lightning Complex fire, largely by creating firebreaks to contain them. Basically he and his team walked along the edge of the fire (on the windward side) and dug a trench down to mineral soil, clearing any brush that crossed the line.



The two pictures below show him using a drip torch to start a fire, clearing out underbrush and depriving potential (wild) fires of fuel.



He worked hard, clearly, but had an awesome time. It sounds like quite the adventure (helicopter rides and everything!).



(He is also, if this is not obvious yet, an expert at the one-armed-self-portrait.)

And now he has a kickass answer to the question, "What did you do this summer?"

The Continuing Adventures of Mr. Mr. Smith

My father is continuing to recover from his heart attack (now officially labeled arrhythmia), although there was another scare last Sunday night. He started to feel dizzy again and experienced tightness in his chest, so he returned to the hospital. The ambulance crew recognized him from the last trip they took together, although Dad, understandably, did not remember them. The hospital ran some more tests, kept him overnight, and then decided it was probably a side effect of his medication and changed his timing so two pills wouldn’t interact.

So the week began on a roller coaster note. It continued in large part as a long wait for the cardiologist appointment on Friday. Mom stayed home from school again on Monday, and called her own mother to help. Grandmother lives just over an hour away, and my aunt, who happened to be visiting at the time, brought her to my parents’ house.

Grandmother stayed the course of the week and helped Mom with a variety of tasks around the house and kept Dad company. He’s had good days and not-so-good days. He’s not really the sort to watch movies all day long and was, I think, starting to get bored. Fortunately, my grandmother is crazy (it runs in the family). I’m pretty sure they kept each other well entertained. Also, she cooked. Dad is allowed to have peanut butter cookies, so she made plenty of those, among other things. I’m sort of jealous.

Dad’s doctor appointment on Friday went well. He confirmed what the hospital suggested earlier, that one of Dad’s medications was causing problems. He went a step further and decided that, ultimately, it was not necessary. So Dad’s off that one. All else is well. There was no permanent damage to the heart, and Dad is healthy enough that the doctor is dropping the recommended rehab time from three months down to one. They are getting a twenty-four hour heart monitor just to double-check, but the doctor believes Dad is in good shape.

Dad himself feels much better. That comes partly from being off the medication, and also partly just from getting the doctor’s reassurances. He’s moving around more (still not so much with carrying laundry, but Mom’s got him folding it at least) and his bruises from the surgery are going away. He needs to avoid excessive stairs and sitting up quickly. Also, breakdancing is probably out. He’s spending most of his time reading, eating, and watching movies, but is also beginning to get back into his workshop and generally beginning his return to normal activity.

Next week he comes here to visit me (the doctor has no problem with that) and he will return to work in March. If all goes well with the heart monitor and rehab, he’ll return to the doctor in May for a follow up. Then all should be back to normal (with the exception of those diet arguments he’s going to lose, but I’m of the opinion that’s an acceptable compromise).

Helluva Monday

On Monday morning, my Dad had a heart attack. He's okay, they released him from the hospital Wednesday morning, but it was apparently a very near thing.

At around 6:20 am, Dad wrapped up his workout at the YMCA and began cool down stretches. When he sat back up, he felt dizzy and after that the rest of the morning is a bit fuzzy for him. The staff at the YMCA told my mother that he appeared to have a seizure. They began CPR, noticed his heartbeat was incredibly erratic and got the defibrillator. They saved my father's life. Doctor's told my mother later that if my father had needed to wait any more than three minutes for the defibrillator he would almost certainly not have survived. He was rushed to the emergency room where he received two stints in a major artery that was 99.9% blocked. There's another that's 80% blocked, but they didn't want to stress the heart too much in one go. It is a wonder, the doctors say, that this attack did not occur sooner.

In all ways, except the event itself, we have been very lucky. My father just recently changed gyms. The staff at this one knew just what to do, and did it quickly. The attack occurred in an open visible space, and he was already lying down. My mother, who is a teacher, had already made her lesson plans for the week and did not need to worry about the details of turnover. The weather was pleasant for Connecticut in winter and thanks in part to the gym change (which led to a fifteen minute trip instead of an hour trip to the hospital nearest the old gym) my Mom had no trouble getting to and from the hospital. One of her friends also happened to be home and was able to help her get Dad's stuff from the locker room and to bring his car back from the gym. Both my Mom's school and my Dad's office have been very supportive.

Everyone has been surprised. Dad had no symptoms of any problems. He's had no previous heart tremors. There was no tightening in the chest, no pain, just the sudden dizziness. Dad has always been fairly active, running, biking, and swimming regularly. His coworkers thought he was the healthiest among them and are in a bit of shock (Dad's boss reportedly took a look around the conference room at the number of men over fifty and declared that the company would buy defibrillators and train people in their use). He does not drink often, and when he does it's usually red wine. There are probably some food decisions he could have made differently, but both my parents are healthy eaters. (Mom more so than Dad; he joked on Monday that the biggest drawback was that he won't be able to win any food arguments with my mother any more.) He has, however, been under a lot of stress at work recently. The biggest contributor, though, was family history. Both of his parents have had heart attacks (both have survived them), as have a variety of other relatives. With his genes, "usually eating right" isn't quite enough (a lesson my brother and I need to absorb right now). His exercise and fitness level helped him survive this one, and will mean he should recover quickly.

My brother will see him this week. I'm a bit further away, so I won't see him until their trip here in February (already planned, and now approved by medical professionals). I did however, send him a box of goodies that should keep him entertained for a while. He won't be moving much in the near future and the doctor told him not to lift anything more than 10 pounds for the time being. He told Mom that means he won't be carrying the laundry to the basement for her. Mom said she'll make sure the laundry is in small piles.

In other words, everyone is in good spirits and Dad has a pretty legitimate excuse to miss that work trip he had been dreading.

BE AFRAID, BE VERY AFRAID

My family enjoys grab bags. I am not sure why I’m presenting this topic today, there’s no way I can adequately convey this experience. Which is probably for the best, really. But it seems I’m not actually letting that stop me.

Grab bags are a bit odd to even before you do something foolish like involve my family. Everyone’s family is odd. There is no such thing as a normal family. I make no claim that mine is any odder than any other family. Actually, for the most part we’re pretty well balanced. But one manifestation of our particular brand of oddness, well we can be a bit goofy.

For those of you who need help with subtext that last sentence was an understatement.

The annual Christmas grab bag is a distillation of that goofiness, refined and delivered in its purest form. I believe it was my grandmother who started the tradition, which explains a lot. It actually started within my life time. I remember Christmases when we did not do a grab bag, and now it’s a tradition. I don’t, unfortunately, remember the exact year it started. I do not believe it will stop any time soon, though. It’s well on its way to becoming legend.

The first few years, my grandmother bought all the gifts. Eventually, though, I think she got tired of shouldering all the blame, so this year she empowered each of us to purchase or otherwise acquire our own “contribution.” My brother remembered this (curse him) and reminded all of us about our obligation shortly before Christmas.

He used phrases like “hopefully significantly increase the Grab Bag gift quality,” “perfect opportunity for regifting,” and “Don’t spend more than five bucks!” My grandmother was a bit irritated by that first line, especially when combined with the last one. Then my uncle reminded her that the last grab bag had provided him with a plastic deer that “offered jelly beans in a novel manner” (again for those of you who have difficulty with subtext, “novel manner” means “pooping”). And that is one of the gifts that was fought over.

Fortunately, for comic value at least, my brother’s prediction did not come true. If anything, things got worse. I left with a pink Barnes & Noble t-shirt and a book of etiquette, and I was one of the lucky ones. My cousin got a cat statue made of real rabbit fur that is supposed to look like a sleeping kitten. I do not think I’ve ever seen anything creepier. My uncle, to go with his deer, ended up with a lamp. It is a leopard print lampshade sitting on a woman’s leg (in fishnets no less). I love the holidays, and I really love my family. We have so much fun.

RACING AGAIN

Last weekend, for the first time in nine years, I ran a 5k (3.1 miles for those of you who are metrically-challenged). Considering it followed twelve miles of biking and a 250 yard swim, I didn't do too badly (the biking is the part I did quite poorly on). Okay, so it would have been more accurate, and probably quicker to say that I ran a triathlon.

Woo! Go me. And go my brother, too. It's largely his fault I was there. See, entering this triathlon was his idea; one small step in our larger campaign to make sure we are able to survive the hike we have planned with our family (one uncle, one cousin, our father, and us) later this summer. We entered it on the hope that a general fear of embarassment would drive us to exercise and to exercise hard.

Well, it partly worked. I started excercising in March. Unfortunately, I needed ANOTHER carrot to do it - the Back to the Beach Contest at work. I entered THAT so I'd work out for the triathlon so I'd be ready for the hike. Eventually enough things loaded up on top of each other that I had to work out.

And I largely stuck to it. What I did not do, however, is work out as much as I should have.
It was enough, but not enough enough.

I survived the triathlon, even prospered in parts, but I can do better. Which is why I intend to do another one, and another one after that.

I've wanted to run a triathlon for some time now. Although, to be honest, what I really think I've wanted is not necessarily to run a triathlon, but to know I could (and to be able to tell other people). Well I've demonstrated that part to my satisfaction.

I completed the entire race without stopping (except once when someone handed me a cup of water and I couldn't figure out how to drink it and keep running at the same time - something I should work on). There were 500 contestants listed (although fewer than that showed up for various reasons). I was 83rd in the swim (pretty good), 321st in the bike (ouch), and 192nd in the run portion (not bad). That ugly ugly bike portion hurt though, and I ended up 276th overall, 24th out of 26 in my age group (which is not an age-group that bothers to reward casual efforts).

So I now know I can run a triathlon. What I want to know next is, can I run one well? I think so, but I'm just going to have to do more triathlons to prove it to myself. I've learned a number of lessons including practice more, don't kill yourself in the swim (that high place came at a high price), practice more, and don't use a thirteen year old Huffy mountain bike from Kmart to compete in a road race. When I, pedaling steadily, was passed going downhill by a woman whose chain was BROKEN, I realized part of my problem might just have been the bike. Also, I need to practice more.