Lost art of letter writing

I like to write letters. I like everything about it. The selection of paper, the pen choice, fixing an envelope for mailing, even choosing the right kind of stamp. Sometimes I include an article, an pictures, or whatever made me think of the person I am going to write.

My problem is that there are few people who appreciate a letter. There are a few and one of them is the guy at the place I buy paper. He sells me paper and envelopes and asks about who I write to. My aunt, Kregg's grandmother, my sister, and a few friends. The problem is he is the only OCD diabetic I have ever seen. He has Bandaids on multiple fingers and he takes FOREVER to put on a Bandaid if he has just checked his glucose levels. Last time I went and bought paper he bled on some of my rice paper and there was an awkward moment while we pondered the blood spot. He is OCD about checking his blood (about every hour near as I can tell) but he seemed remarkably unconcerned about the oozing of bodily fluids on my paper.

He finally said if I WANTED I could go get another piece of paper to exchange. I said I did. He wanted me to come show him so we would have an even exchange and I just stared. This man and his bad habits were putting a damper on my pleasure in letter writing. Now if I were to use that kind of paper I would think of the blood and the creepy germs.

I exchanged the paper but for a different kind. I did not go show him as I was in a hurry anyways. I was in a hurry to go write this down mostly.

A pretty day...

... I made it to almost 11 before I argued with someone. That is pretty good even considering I woke up and told myself, "Today you are not going to argue." Besides, I didn't start it so that really shouldn't count, I think.

Yesterday I stumbled through the day half-awake. I do not know why as I took a two hour nap on Monday and then we slept all night, everyone. I think the rainy cold had something to do with it... so I went to bed and decided to start anew.

Just when I was ready to snap...

....something nice happens.

Dinner at the fire station is always an event to be viewed as a sort of game. "What are we having tonight?" is how it starts.

"Oh I dunno. What's on sale?", they say.

"I haven't seen the paper because y'all took it into the restroom.", is my frustrated reply.

Someone goes and gets the ads (I won't touch the paper at that point. I have a germ phobia). "How 'bout chicken? We could stuff bacon in it."

"I don't want bacon." Now I am being ignored because we have entered the Bacon Discussion which I am always excluded from for protesting overmuch.

"Kim likes chicken and we could wrap it in bacon so she can peel it off. Do we have any Bac-O-Bits for the salad?"

This is the usual winnowing down of options. They always include bacon, though.

Last night however they said someone was coming with steaks for all of us. Huh... what did we do to deserve that? I wondered. Someone said, "I dunno. D-shift saved some guys wife or something and he brings each shift steaks from the Tavern each year." D-shift? But we are A-shift. I am always happy to eat some other shift's food but this seems like a bit of overkill.

The man arrives and he is a youngish man about 40-something with steaks, potatoes, and the fixings for all of us. I sat at the head of the table with Chief Kelley so we could continue bickering pleasantly about whatever the Discussion of the Day is but I was watching the guy out of the corner of my eye and the curiosity was killing me. After dinner I went and sat with him and some of the other guys migrated over. I finally asked him, "What is the story? Dinner was wonderful but I have to know what we did that was so outstanding to deserve this."

He is an insulin dependant diabetic and has been for several years. About four years ago he was at home early in the AM sleeping and his wife (a doctor at Scott and White) called 911 because he was having an alleged Grand Mal seizure. Paramedics arrived and he was severely hypoglycemic. They D50'd him up but in the grips of the seizure he dislocated his shoulder. HFD trundled him off to the hospital, routine stuff. We do it dozens of times a day.

I opened my mouth to say we D50 people like it was nothing and 9 out of 10 times we get complaints. After we get these people back to right, wander around a kitchen of varying degrees of cleanliness and make a sandwich out of what we can find (I have gone to a neighbors house to fix a sandwich before), watch them eat it, educate the incurious bystanders the best we can, we leave knowing that this is a problem we will usually be back to fix because of persistant ignorance, laziness, or the end effects of some longterm metobolic disorder. I kept my mouth shut, though.

Here is what floored me. He says he is so grateful for our service that every year he brings every shift steak dinner. He visits for awhile and repeats the process again the next year. He is a computer programmer. He has never desired to be a firefighter but just has a generous heart and shows it in his own outstanding way. Here is the rare shining gift we are being offered from a caring citizen that focused on the good we did for him and is giving a gift back in a way that comforts him and us both.

We chatted for about an hour and showed him pictures of fires we made, told him funny stories, we said he could not have a brownie under any circumstances, he shared with us and we invited him to come ride with us sometime. He was astounded. He said that would BE AWESOME!!! He wants to come soon and we will have to show him that we are grateful to him for showing us we are appreciated and we can live happy again for a few hours that we are indeed changing lives.

I hope he comes soon. For all our sakes. And with the steak fixings he brought... there was bacon. And it was good.

Well, it isn't snowing here...

...but it is in Harvard Square.

My best friend is in Cambridge, MA becoming far more edified than will ever really be appreciated in the position he has as Supreme Ruler of the Hero Corp. But we are proud of him and really hopes he brings back to his biggest supporter in the Hero Corp an XL Harvard sweatshirt. Veritas Christo et Ecclesiae... or Veritas for those of us in a hurry. Hurry home.

Today to combat the gloom I went and got a pedicure. I know it is an extravagance that would put about $33 a month back in the coffers but I look at it like this... I get a free Vietnamese lesson, tips and pointers on the best places to go get fresh SE Asia veggies and seafood, all the local gossip and if I am lucky Oprah is on and I can see exactly what I am not missing in the world. Today we were privileged to see the Octomom get brought to task about her finances by Suze Orman. The Pedicure Ladies and I (it was a slow afternoon in the salon) all agreed in my broken Vietnamese and their broken English that she was a few tacos short of a Combination Platter and near as I could translate, a pantleg short of a clean pair of underwear (any errors in translation are completely my fault). But you get the point.

I know Oprah is an icon in our society and you have to admit her story is impressive. However, despite the barriers she crossed and the leaps and bounds she has made for women, for women of color, for our society at large she has claimed that her greatest accomplishment has been to lose weight. Really? Lose weight. Not go from Industrial Size to Now-I-Don't-Need-Heart-Surgery, but to lose 50 lbs. I thought there would be more. I am just saying....

That is all. I am out of wine and I really do not think that that should be a condition to last much longer.

In vino veritas... thank you Mr. Pliny the Elder

Almost...

...but not quite in the seat. I was actually in the seat for about 7 minutes. Then a debit day chief came and saved us from ourselves. So I'm driving this guy. Who seems nice.

Pics from the 3-11 fire that I did not get to be captain on turned out great. Naturally. Kregg had the brilliant idea to let Texas-Fire .com copyright them and they will submit them to publications. It is like having an agent.

On the way to work this morning I ran into the house to get a sweatshirt and foolishly, despite it being 3AM and no one around, I left my car door open while I dashed in. I zipped off accompanied by the XM radio and unbeknownst to me, the cat Hoople. He became knownst about a mile from the house. So I thought about tossing him in Kregg's lap at his station at 0315hrs but felt sorry for the cat and turned around and took him home.

Now we are here and I feel a serious nap coming on.

Chicken is good for you...

...so now fry it.

Somehow, I got passed over for riding the seat today. So the fill in guy (who is super nice) is riding the seat. I know I know I know I get to have all the glory and delight that goes with being an ICT all the rest of the time other people are driving ambulances but I thought any captaining at all would be beneficial. Assuming the captain test produces. See previous post.

That poor guy is walking around on eggshells knowing I am casting a withering eye around, the chief looks a bit guilty like he did something, now I am mad, but he doesn't know what he did. The senior doesn't care because he has taken my phone and is playing with Google Goggles.  ANd the paramedics are here coughing and hacking on us.

So we are having chicken for dinner in an ethereal man-attempt to keep the peace they sense in disturbed but do not know why, I purposely filed stuff wrong, and I am pondering getting out my sewing and sewing in the lounge during football to make everyone nervous. Except I do not have my sewing. So I will be forced to vacuum around them, rearrange the couches, and scorch the cheese dip.