Ups and fucking downs. I've had worse collections of days. I've had better ones, too, but this particular set needs to be gotten down somewhere and this is as good a place as any. At this point, I don't remember much from last Monday, other than to tell you that I was glad the Steelers had won the Super Bowl, and that my chili tasted better than perhaps it ever has. So - that was a high point, yeah? The only thing I can say for certain is that I was tired enough that I came home and did a layout job for a family friend and went to bed with no TV or reading. That's tired.
Tuesday: While at work on a fairly busy day, one of my employees stabs another at about 3pm with an X-Acto knife in the hand causing an open wound (you could see tendons and stuff) requiring four stitches. This happened while both parties were fucking around instead of working, and led to a huge loss in productivity and arguments about insurance with measly pricks named Chip. After ending my day like this, I come home to find that my wife's school had multiple fights which required police intervention and ultimately, arrests. During a phone call with my mom, my daughter throws up all over me. While trying to wrangle her vomit, clothing and self into something like a bath, a glass is broken which later cuts my son's foot. I am up until 2 AM dealing with sick child. The foot bleeds a little, but is largely unharmed.
Wednesday: Continued fallout from stabbing incident mars morning, conversations ensue. Another employee injures himself in the leg with an improperly stored blade. Work progresses at a dead run as I must leave at one so C can attend an afternoon meeting. I spend my afternoon reading books, pouring drinks, and changing diapers. While Abby watches TV, I gather the sickbed laundry, do dishes, and tidy up. I pick up Max and eat the world's worst chicken sandwich at Ruby Tuesday's, while simultaneously recieving comment from waitstaff about having "the best behaved children ever."
Thursday: Note from Max's teacher upsets morning. A progress report in his backpack seems to indicate a major slippage in work and application since January's report card. It suggests all kinds of things which upset me and C. I draft a quick but concerned note back to the teacher and send all on their way. I destroy two co-workers at lunchtime trivia after pouring my heart out to them about what I expect will be a troublesome weekend. Evening contains failed attempts to procure costume items and bad food at Davis-Kidd bistro. I swing by and pick up a stack of old comics from the Guys, (also chatting about the various potentials of the coming weekend) which contains many randomly nostalgic items, including my old transistor radio. That night I am up sick with the vomiting from 2:30 in the morning until 4.
Friday: I am locked out of my apartment by my two-year-old. She closes and locks the door while my keys are hanging inside. After 20 minutes, I give up on doing this the right way (waiting for the security guy with keys) and pop my lock with a slotted screwdriver in seconds. We go in and find keys, and I take my son who is dressed as Harry Potter to school, where he must be signed in because he is late. I walk him to class where his teacher, clad as Laura Ingalls, tells me that she had another child in mind when she wrote the upsetting note, and that I should disregard it. (I should perhaps mention here that Max's school is in the midst of Read-A-Thon, where kids read as much as they can and get points and raise money for the school. The costumes were a part of that ongoing event.) I get to work late to find the empty threat of a lawsuit in my email. This is quickly dealt with (20 minutes spent on a carefully crafted response) and the rest of the morning passes without incident.
I did my "invisible phone" gag at the bank, and no one said a word.
I pick Abby up from school and pay the day care, and we head home into a swirl of packing. The four of us leave sometime after six to drive to Birmingham, where we check into the Medical Center Inn for a night of relative rest. I am now dealing with phase two of the sickness using Mucinex D, (which is available without ID and forms in Alabama, so I took the opportunity to start my own meth lab) Aleve, and Sudafed. I fall asleep around 11:30 or so.
Saturday: We awaken in our hotel room, the kids having arisen at 6:50. Cartoons are watched, snacks are had, showers taken, coffee consumed. After contacting my mother-in-law, a fun trip through the city of Birmingham is had as we become lost trying to find this charming bakery. Once found, delicious pastries and cookies are consumed as a cavalcade of dogs passes by. (Matt and Cayce - go here when in Birmingham!)
We meet up with Carolyn and go see Vulcan, the second largest statue of its kind in the United States and a monument to Birmingham's rich manufacturing heritage. We spent some time in the museum and rode the glass elevator up the eleven stories to the observation deck. Vulcan is way cool, though the history of the statue is nearly cooler than the statue himself. His ass is bare, though,which is amusing. Also, I kept making the same joke: "How long have we been looking at this Vulcan statue?" "Does it have to be so Vulcan high?" Hilarious. We parted ways with Carolyn then, and got some Gus's hot dogs. If you ever get a chance to have a Gus's chili dog, I will say that his chili recipe is perfect for dogs - not a lot of extras, good flavor.
After Gus's in the car, we went to Birmingham's Civil Rights museum. It is awesome, in the old-school sense of the word before it was corrupted by generations of ignorant children and admen. In the pre-"hundred million hot dogs" sense. I could have spent forever there. From the origins of Birmingham as a city to the election of Mayor Arrington, the whole institute is a treat for all the senses, and a mind-numbing experience that makes point after point about racism and humanity's ridiculousness over and over again without becoming tiresome, but often being deliberately overwhelming. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and would like to go back. When it closed, we wandered the corner there where 16th Street Baptist Church is, and also Kelly Ingram park, with its monuments to civil rights leaders and milestones. There, we met a crazy man.
He was the good kind of crazy, like Sun Ra, in his flip-flops and socks carrying a huge bag of 100 double-A batteries, and we paid him five bucks to listen to him run down the history of the area and rap about the park itself, the symbolism of the area, and the evils of too much Internet. We left him and returned to our hotel, where gifts were given, and we managed to leave the dolls and Transformers flying around long enough to grab some BBQ. The sausage was my favorite. And the potato salad. That night I "slept" restlessly next to Max after Carolyn went to her room and Abby resisted bedtime for a while.
Sunday we had breakfast and came back. We are fully into February's Valentine week, which is always fun when you have kids and plans. We are all of us tired today, and settling into sleepiness. Next time, I'll try to get enough time on my hands to break these up into smaller entries.