The Plague Years



Sorry for the long delay in finishing the exciting, non-stop action tale that is Winter Trip ’06. Sometimes there are other things in life besides blogging. No it’s true! Sure, I could have tossed off an update but you don’t want a half-ass blog. You people deserve the full ass that is my blog.

So when we last left our band of merry gentlefolk they had recently arrived at their final destination deep in the wilds of Wyoming. With no electric power, it seemed our protagonists were going to have to revert to barbarism, striking at each other with clubs and eating the flesh of the weakest man-child. Normally one likes to wait a week or two before resorting to such desperate measures, but I have always been a bit of a go-getter and felt that I should probably get a jump on this one. One never wants to be the last to revert to barbarism. Sadly we will never know what man-child I was going to eat first, as the power resumed before I could even select a properly blunt object for my club.

It turns out that perhaps I should have gone through with my hastily put together plan for cannibalism, as something I ate turned out to be tainted with Bubonic plague… or Ebola… or Mad Beaver disease. OK, I don’t know what it was, but I know what the results were: vomiting and lots of it. Chills and fever were bosom companions the first night, followed by diarrhea the likes of which I hate to describe to a reader with sensibilities as delicate as yourself. Let us just say I could have sworn I had eaten solid food in the past 48 hours, but my exertions showed no signs of it. Uncontrolled vomiting at the same time (that first night was a pip) was not conducive to the reliable maintenance of hygienic undergarments. There, that is certainly more than you hoped to read. Hope I did not catch you over a morning Danish.




While the vomiting lasted a mere 6-8 hours, the accompanying symptoms were roughly 2 days in duration and then some substantial recovery weakness for another day or so. To make matters worse, one by one everyone in the house succumbed to the dread malady. First my step mom, then my father. I was really concerned about Candy and the babies, but they avoided the scourge. Still, it was not a Merry Xmas, as by the 25th three of the four adults were in various stages of illness and poor Candy was taking care of two babies and us at the same time.



The cause of the pestilence is still unknown. My step mother was quite certain it was some sort of virus I contracted in Idaho or Utah. My belief is that some sort of food stuff we all partook from was corrupted. Food poisonings of all sorts are dramatically under-reported in this country. The speed that it went through the house and the fact that the people I interacted the most with, my wife and children, did not get sick leads me to believe bad food was the culprit. The opposing theory is the magical powers of breast feeding which apparently produces an impenetrable force field of goodness around all involved. Personally, my money was on the chunky peanut butter.



We had a nice time the rest of the trip, but we took things real slow. No skiing, no sledding, not much in the way of movement at all. We did take the girls out into the snowy wonderland, but I am not sure they got as much out of it as we did. Did get a nice action shot of Dad's pooch Bridger.




We left Wyoming on the 30th and did a single day run all the way back to Las Vegas. For those of you who like numbers, that is 12 hours driving, 6 hours of stopping to feed, 18 hours total that felt like 30 hours as the last 5 hours the girls spent a lot of time screaming. Do not try to drive that far in one shot with infants. Make a note. Keep it somewhere you won’t forget.

To finish the tale I will mention that we once again visited Gramma Carolyn at her jewelry store at the Las Vegas Hilton. Sadly I forgot my camera, as we had lunch at Quark’s Bar where I had a prime opportunity to get a picture of the girls with a female Klingon: K’Plah!



On the plus side, the girls have become really interactive and aware of their environment. Here is a great photo of them in Las Vegas, where Kayla has become intensely interested in the sleeping Rylie. She is actually poking her repeatedly with her fist to try and get her to move. Rylie did eventually wake up, but she was not as amused.

Then we left for home, stopping once again in beautiful and deserted (on the night of the 31st) Barstow. I had something at Quigley’s Bar and Grill which claimed to be ribs. I don’t know what animal they came from, but it could not have been a pig or cow. It might have been man-child. Mmmm, the sweetest of meats. We were home by 10:30pm and asleep before the New Year. Yes, we are now officially old. Happy 2007, y’all!

May all your dreams be dreams of Rock!