Jesus, it is TOO EARLY on a Saturday for me to go through what just happened. And no coffee yet, even!

This morning after I got up and let dogs out and back in, and fed everyone, I had taken some garbage out to the carport. I thought I had latched the door completely shut. I went back into the office and sat perusing the internets. It got quiet. I didn’t notice anything.

After a time, I got up to make said coffee… and the door in the kitchen to the big, evil, outside world was wide open. I raced out to the carport.

Gypsy and Pixel were cat-skulking around the car- I yelled and both flew into the house. But where were the dogs? And it hit me- Sumi didn’t have her collar on. Panic really began to set in.

I threw on shoes and grabbed my keys and wallet, belatedly realizing I should have grabbed my phone. I did a quick tour around the block, windows down, looking. Nothing, turn by turn by turn. I decided to head to the recently redone park/community area behind our house. I looked up on the ridge as I banked through the turn, and there they were- Sumi, smiling and gleefully leading Loki through a tour of the new area. Both were running and smiling and looking like life was just. So. AWESOME.

I parked the car and turned the hazards on, and ran up the stairs. They hadn’t seen me yet, but probably heard me calling. I don’t know the last time I ran up three extra-long flights of stairs like that. At the top, they were nosing around and smelling, and about 40 yards from me. I called Sumi first.

“Sumi! Hey, whatcha doin’?” She stopped and stared at me. I could see on her face she was planning at least two moves ahead.

“Let’s go for a ride! You ready? C’mon!” And I started back down the stairs. Shooting a glance behind me- they were both racing to catch up. The panic began to ease.

We got about a third of the way down when both were in grabbing distance. I snatched Loki up, muddy as a goat, then Sumi. But she’s 30lbs and I can’t carry 40lbs of struggling wet dogs. So I put her down but held onto her scruff. She obediently went into the car. Loki of course didn’t have much choice.

Once home I toweled them off -both were very muddy- and then hugged them long. Back in the house they went and I finally brewed that pot of coffee.

I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.

I just had a moment so humbling, so inane, that I almost had to pull the car over as I drove home.

Today has been one of those “no plans, do whatever I feel like” kind of days. I cleaned a little, surfed a little, talked a little, and generally moved like a dust bunny in the in breeze. The sun eventually came out and I decided to geocache a bit.

I was cruising home after my last (failed, I might add) attempt when I got some new email. It was to our shared geocaching email, and it was a note about a cache I’ve been watching. You can put certain ones on a list and monitor the logs, kind of like remote reconnaissance.

The first thing I saw was “So and so found…”. Then I opened the email. A lesbian couple we casually know through caching had found a cache in Kauai that I’ve been watching for months. My lip began to tremble involuntarily and I felt my still-surgically-tender eyes sting.

They’re in Kauai and we’re not. And I felt this wave of anger and frustration wash over me. Read more…

Well, it’s not, really. I gave it to myself in my honey’s absence.

• Get cat litter
• Get DVDr’s for copies of L&M’s wedding photos
• Buy a new shredder
• Make DVD of said wedding photos
• Clean out the fridge
• Add slats & dirt to the potato box
• Clean up the yard
• Mail DVD’s to L&M
• Mail new TB to Wisconsin
• Clean the house
• Organize geo stuff- about half done with this
• Fold clothes
• Fill holes Loki dug (grrr)
• Fill hummingbird/bird feeders
• Pull the big trash up to the curb
• Paint geocache containers
• Eat. Seriously. For real. Get a meal, will ya?
• Deposit some checks
• Get spare keys (re)made
• Prep replacement travel bug for mailing
• Renew the car plates

I’ve had an interesting couple of days since the Big Gay Laser reconfigured my corneas. And interesting in a good way.

The first few hours post-procedure were hazy, literally. The surgeon told me: “It will be like looking through a clear plastic shower curtain for awhile.” And it was.

The procedure itself was not as cringe-inducing as I expected. It was, to be clear, weird. Here’s a basic, jargon-less rundown of how it goes: Read more…

Couldn’t resist the Xbox reference. seemed appropriate.

My eyes are indeed a bit red, but not horribly so. After several hours of rest, they feel alllllmost normal. Mostly a tad sore, like I’ve been out in the wind or sun all day.

Tomorrow is my post-op. I’ll write a more in-depth description of the procedure then.

That post title could mean oh-so-many things in my life, right now, but in this instance I’ll keep it narrowed to one.

Tomorrow is the Big Gay Laser Day, aka LASIK. (Why did I call it Big Gay Laser? I have no idea) I got the pre-surgical call, the directions there and back printed/readied, and a ride procured. Bayou has other stuff going on that day so she won’t be able to drive me back to the house.

I have Thursday off. I’m sure I will spend most of it laying on my ass, since right now I have the emotional and mental capacity for bubkiss. Life has been draining and hard and slogging.

So this is sort of my treat to myself. An expensive one, natch, but dammit I’m tired of glasses/contacts and the associated hassle. I want to be able to try new things (fencing) and revisit other things (lacrosse) and not have to worry about the stupid specs.

So wish me luck. This time tomorrow I will be specless in Seattle.

…2. Determined searchers armed with a metal detector, 0.

Our search, even with an extra set of eyes, did not yield anything. I am beginning to wonder if it’s even still there. There were piles of leaves, wooden shingles, broken plates & cups, casters for a metal bed frame, and all manner of detritus strewn in the area. The grass is also very high. It’s worse than a needle in a haystack.

I’m going to offer to remove ALL of the junk from the fence-line, if the neighbor will let me, so that I can really look near the fence. The metal from it and the other debris is confusing the metal detector, and there’s really no way to search well with it all in the way.

This is so disheartening.

Remains, well, missing. Or hidden in the tall grass, anyway.

My neighbor, via my other neighbor with whom we enjoy a cordial relationship, invited us to feel free to search.

That huge air whoosh you just heard is my relief. And a tinge of fear.

Despite ordering a metal detector almost instantly after I accidentally flung Dad’s ring over the fence, I haven’t had the guts to look for it. Yes, I said guts. When it happened, my reaction was one of avoidance. Don’t think about it and it didn’t happen. Don’t talk about it and it will be erased from memory.

Of course, that hasn’t happened. But for me, once I begin to avoid something, it becomes easier and easier to do. And that’s exactly what happened. It’s been 81 days.

So it is both a relief and a fear-spawning feeling to know I can go home, fire up the metal detector, and look. Why am I afraid? I don’t really know. All I can say for certain is that the thought of finding it has put a gigantic lump in my stomach.

My honey decided awhile back to buy herself a treat with her bureoning freelance work. True to geek designer form, she chose an iPad.

We picked it up today, and then had dinner. We were at a BBQ place with multiple TV’s. I was watching soccer when my cell went off with a text.

“I love you- even more than beer and BBQ”

I laughed and said:

“I think you left something out.”

Bayou thought about it for two beats and said, “I amend my text to include “…and all Apple devices combined.”

Never let it be said that I don’t know my wife.

It would’ve been a perfect evening if I could have kept from having a major dumbass moment earlier.

About a week ago we had some hellacious wind in Seattle, and it loosened the front board on the carport. That board had attached to it a cable that ran to the electric pole across the street. We figured that the natural tension of the cable and other factors eventually loosened the board. It also didn’t help that the nail pattern on the board suggested a drunken monkey put it up there…

I tried to fix it myself this weekend, but no go. A friend of ours came by yesterday to fix it. In about 15 minutes, he had it all reinforced and prettified, and had removed that pesky cable that had caused the issue. He left and I went back inside to continue working.

I use a VPN when I’m home, and it’s not exactly the most reliable. It seemingly had kicked me offline, so I spent several minutes trying to reconnect. I went back into the room where we have our network set up and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

The cable was the internet cable. DERRRRRRRRRRR.

So…. now we’re going to have to wait on Comcast to come fix the damn cable, sometime today. I can safely say that is the blondest I’ve felt in ages.

Today Dad would’ve been 66.

It still feels so wrong, so weird, to say “would’ve been”. There is a void in my mind that should be occupied with the “why” of how he died. Instead, I -and my family- are left with a cause of death so generic that anything could’ve happened.

I have to accept it. And I am, bit by bit. But I believe it will always sting a little. I’ve never dealt well with not knowing the why of something. You can tell me all you want that that is setting myself up for pain, but it’s in my nature to dig for reasons and understand. Maybe more of a curse, at times.

In the months since he died, I find myself doing the oddest rituals that I don’t even question. I just do them, as if compelled by an unseen force to honor my Dad in ways no else can even see.

All of my passwords at work have been variations on his name, date of birth, affiliations, or interests.

I placed a geocache with his nickname in the title, filled with things he liked.

Every time I look at the sky, and see pinks and reds, I think of the old saw he told me as a kid. “Pink sky at night, sailor’s delight; pink sky at morn, sailor be warned.” It’s become reflexive, now; I hear it in my head every time my eyes catch sight of pinkness in the clouds.

During the NFL draft I found myself paying special attention to tight ends, the position my Dad played.

His obituary is on my fridge. I touch it every time I shut the freezer.

On and on… little things that make me feel both sane and insane at once. As time has marched on I’ve felt the evolution of my grief take hold, even if I don’t entirely understand where it’s leading.

I miss you Dad. So very, very much.

Here’s where I found mine, not long ago.

4/20/10

Eavesdropping
Standing in the fallen night
my back yard cocoons me in relief
Relief from the day, its worries, my heavy heart

In the wetlands I hear the frogs
heir chorus is loud, growing louder
As the night embraces the earth softly
I take in their million tiny voices, imagining connections

And that I am an invisible observer of their nocturnal lives
Not interfering, just eavesdropping on their pleadings
promises
desires
to one another in the dark

If I close my eyes and listen
Everything else falls away
And only the frogs remain

Their cacophony soothing my soul
Before another day rises
and silences their choruses
Until night falls once more.

Lachlan Greer, all rights reserved, 2010