Monday, December 18, 2023

The Holidays, Part XV: Christmas in the 90s

 (Days of work remaining until holiday time off: 1)

This is long. Buckle in.

A few years back, I tried to put together a post of every Christmas I was alive -- how old I was, what I was doing, where I was living, and everything I remembered about it -- year by year. I believe I scrapped it and didn't put it up here because it got very long and there were just a lot of details I couldn't remember. Yes, I remember a good 70% or so of the 80s, because I lived through them, but I don't remember solid, vivid details about a lot of the Christmases involved -- I just remember feelings, I remember some events that would stick with me and helped shape who I was as a child, or were otherwise just some of those "core memory" sort of feelings and other little snippets that I could fondly recall. I'll write about this too, eventually.

However, the 90s were much more vivid for me. It's the 90s where I developed my love of Christmas, and Christmas traditions within our family were solidified, where the holidays began carrying a sort of magic for me that I still chase in one form or another even now, over thirty years later. Nostalgia runs strong and deep in my blood, and so much from the 90s still sticks with me in one form or another. So, this post is a story about the things I loved about the holidays during those years, as well as some of the gifts I gave, and got, during those years.

Mind you, not all of the 90s were great -- I mean that from a personal perspective as well as a historical one. The beginning of the 90s was traumatic for me as my mother had just married my abusive former stepfather, and the end of the 90s was traumatic for me because I was in my angsty high school years and suffered greatly from depression. A lot. 

Christmas in the early 90s involved a lot of back and forth. If I wasn't doing Christmas Eve with my father (which, I think, the last time I did that was 1990 or 1991, and I only did it once after he married my stepmother), it was spent in Fairmont, WV at the house of my former stepfather's parents -- I slept in the small guest room/sewing room and my mother and stepfather slept in his (much nicer/larger) bedroom. I can't say I slept much, though -- I was still at the age where Christmas gifts were everything to me, and the anticipation would keep me awake much of the night, staring at the ceiling. This was, of course, the age before cell phones, several years before I would even own a Game Boy or similar gaming system, and it was my sole hope every year that I would get a Nintendo or Sega Genesis. My cousins had a Nintendo and all I wanted was to be able to play video games like they could at any time. I could not understand why or how they could get tired of it, how they didn't want to play it every waking hour. 

I never got one during those years. I occasionally got an off-brand Transformer figure and a lot of NASCAR stuff, as I was really into NASCAR at the time (before, well, a few of my favorite drivers died and multiple others retired). I got a lot of clothes and occasionally a cassette tape here and there -- I remember in 1991 I got the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze soundtrack on cassette, which was a big deal to me because that was also the year I got a good GE radio/cassette player, which I still own to this day, and a pack of tapes that I used to record songs off the radio.

Christmas in the early 90s would usually operate in one fashion or another -- if we did the Christmas Eve and morning thing in Fairmont, that afternoon we'd drive to my grandmother's house a county away for the family dinner. The early 90s are what I really refer to as "peak Christmas" for my family's gatherings. All of the kids of my generation were between the ages of 6 and 20 -- as an adolescent I was right in the middle of this -- and all of the aunts and uncles were in their 30s and 40s, with the only exception to this being my grandmother (who was in her mid-60s at the time; she lived to be 90). The grand total of people doing Christmas in my grandmother's small double-wide trailer? If everyone came, it was well over 20 people. I did the math and some years it could've been 22-24. That's a LOT of people for one small space with one bathroom and a very small kitchen/small stove and refrigerator. 

Yet, every year, my grandmother made Christmas dinner happen. Some of the aunts and uncles brought some of the larger dishes -- one of my aunts was always in charge of the mashed potatoes, another was in charge of the ham, and others brought various side dishes and desserts. My grandmother usually handled the rolls and butter, but her centerpiece dessert every year that she was always very proud of was her giant bowl of jello, into which she would always put fruit -- bananas, grapes, sometimes the little mandarin oranges, etc. Most of the time it was red jello with bananas, though. I loved it and never could figure out how she could get it to "set" with the fruit suspended in it. I still don't know how it was done to this day. 

All of her kids and grandkids, from each family, would get my grandmother a gift. There were seven families (because there were seven of her children) so each year, each family would give her a "family gift" -- sometimes it was something for the kitchen, sometimes it was pajamas or slippers or fancy foods like the Hickory Farms gift sets or something like that. I don't know that or if she ever used the vast majority of it. When the house was cleaned out years later (when she was moved into a smaller trailer below the old one on the same family property) I was told they many of those things were found just stuffed into the backrooms, their boxes never opened again after the Christmas wrapping had been removed.

My grandmother had a tradition that everyone in the family got one gift from her, and there was generally a price limit of $20 for the kids and $50 for the married couples. She was already getting old though and couldn't shop for hours on end the way she used to back in the 80s, so by the 90s (especially the mid-to-late 90s) she would give a list and the money to her youngest two kids (my youngest aunt and youngest uncle) and would send them off to pick up the items for everyone. In the 80s, when I was a very young child, she did it all herself in person and the three of them would go do that shopping together in various stores/towns, from Morgantown to Fairmont to Waynesburg, PA. As she got older, that stopped almost completely, and by the end of the 90s she was just giving cash to everyone inside Christmas cards instead of actual gifts.

Many gifts from the 1990s, from my grandmother, I fondly remember. Most years I'd either get a videotape of a movie I wanted, or I'd get one of the Tiger handheld electronic games. My original VHS copies of Batman Forever (1995) and Independence Day (1996) were Christmas gifts from my grandmother. In 1993 or 94 she got me the Tiger handheld version of Mortal Kombat, which I was thrilled to receive.

As the 90s went on, and as my mother divorced my abusive former stepfather, holidays began to change. My mother met the man I refer to here as my Dad in the summer of 1993, and by the following summer the long separation and divorce from said stepfather was finalized and we were living on our own in a large, but fairly expensive apartment in Morgantown. We'd extricated ourselves from a bad situation and were finally free again -- a single mother and her twelve-year-old son, a son whose actual father had written him off for good a year prior, and suddenly the family Christmas was the only Christmas we had.

Christmas 1994 was strange and unlike any other Christmas I think I've ever had. We were finally on our own, but we had very little. I was not doing well in school -- truth be told, I'd lost almost all interest in school once I started reading and collecting comics about two years prior, and with the separation and divorce stuff going on, I focused on the comics and writing/drawing. I detached myself from most reality, I got really into the Power Rangers -- even though I got made fun of in school for liking them -- and just tried to be a kid. There was so much I'd missed out on living with the very strict disciplinarian who was my former stepfather, and because of that there was so much early 90s culture that had been forbidden to me -- stuff that I was not allowed to do, watch, or have -- major cultural touchstones in movies, music, and television that I was not allowed to experience. I never got a Nintendo. I never got a Game Boy, and when we moved into that apartment, we didn't even have a VCR. Our TV was very old and from the early 80s, purchased secondhand. Furniture was either gifted to us or also purchased secondhand, until my mother could finally afford to get a living room set and a table. We lived frugally for some time. 

But, for Christmas that changed. 

We'd continued the tradition, started a few years before, that on or around my birthday we would drive to Pittsburgh to have dinner at the Olive Garden and to go Christmas shopping at the Century III Mall. I've written about these trips here before -- they were something I looked forward to every year. Pittsburgh is about 90 miles north of Morgantown, and given that it was winter, sometimes the trip would be delayed a day or two or we'd go a day or two earlier than normal to beat incoming weather, but it was always as close to my birthday as possible. I think the earliest we ever did the trip was December 18th, and the latest probably December 23, depending on the year. In all of my years I think there was only a very few years that we skipped this tradition when I was living at home -- one was the first winter that Mom and I were alone before she'd really solidified her relationship with my Dad, and I remember another year that I was really sick/tired and did not want to go (my parents still went on their own), but I believe by that time I was already in college.

In 1994 though, I believe it was just me and Mom, and I remember we went on the trip two nights before my birthday. She'd asked me what I wanted that year and I told her either a Super Nintendo or a Sega Genesis -- it really didn't matter to me which one. I showed them both to her in the Electronics Boutique in Century III Mall, showed her the games I liked and/or would have wanted for each one, etc. She actually paid very close attention to my "presentation," so to speak. Both systems at the time were the same price -- $99.99. 

As an aside, what's absolutely wild to me as an adult looking back on this nearly thirty years later is that the new-design, top-loading NES system at that time was $49.99 (and may have been cheaper depending on Christmas sales) pretty much anywhere, and had thousands of well-known games for it -- I could've had one of those and the system itself would have been worth waaaaay more on the collectors' market today than both the Genesis and SNES combined, including the games I was interested in. I, at the time, was not interested in the NES anymore -- I wanted the newest, up-to-date system(s) that all of my friends in school had. 

We came home with other gifts and I thought nothing else of it. Honestly I don't think I thought about it again. But, the next night, my aunt brought me a wrapped birthday gift from my grandmother, and I wasn't allowed to open it before my birthday. Even then I didn't think much about it. It was small, it was a wrapped hard box, and I assumed it was a videotape or another handheld Tiger game. 

The morning of my birthday -- I turned twelve that year -- before my mother was awake, I opened my gift from my grandmother. It was a copy of Batman Returns for the Sega Genesis, in its hardshell plastic case, brand new. I remember going to my mother with it and saying something along the lines of "okay, where's the Genesis?" and holding the game up so she could see the jig was up.

That was what my mother had gotten me for my birthday, obviously -- she'd split up from me and doubled back to the Electronics Boutique while I had gone off to get gifts for her, and had purchased the Genesis -- which came with Sonic Spinball as the pack-in game -- and had run it back to the car before meeting up with me again to go home. 

It was one of the best Christmas gifts I'd ever received, even though it was really a birthday gift, because it wasn't just about having a video game system of my own -- it was about my mother being able to gift me the freedom to own one, something that had been forbidden for me for years by my former stepfather. It was about letting me be a kid and having the Christmas that I wanted -- a delight that had been stolen from me in my more formative years by the former stepfather. It was a symbol of "fuck that guy" as much as it was a gaming console. 

Christmas morning came that year and with it, a few other games -- the one I remember most was Spider-Man and the X-Men in Arcade's Revenge, which was a truly terrible game and one of the worst games ever produced for any system -- but the box art and pictures looked cool. It wasn't her fault that the game was awful. She didn't know either. 

I had that Genesis until 2018 -- nearly 25 years. It blew out its video port sometime in the late 90s and had been sitting in a box, with all its peripherals, until I sold it to a local game store here in Omaha for parts. The games had all been sold long before that, with the exception of the aforementioned Batman Returns game from my grandmother -- that game I played the shit out of, finally beat it, and then traded it to a friend in 6th grade (read: several months later) for his old Game Boy. Yes, he traded me a Game Boy for a four-year-old Genesis cartridge. I think I got the better deal on that one. 

I had gone from having zero game systems to having two current ones in less than the span of a year. 

With the former stepfather's family Christmas time eliminated (and good riddance, I couldn't stand those people....well, okay, his dad was a good/decent enough person), for the second half of the decade, our Christmases would change a lot. First and foremost, my mother was now with the man I call my Dad and would be from that point forward. It did not take long for me to see him as a father figure and likewise, for him to begin treating me like his own son. He had three children of his own from his previous marriages -- my oldest brother was twelve years older than me, so he was already well into his twenties by the time my parents met. His middle son was two years older than me, and his daughter was four years younger than me. His family was large -- he had two sisters with children, his parents, and various aunts and uncles of his generation and the previous generation, and all of them had a family Christmas (as well as all other holiday gatherings) at their family home in southwestern Pennsylvania. I believe we began attending these, all as a cohesive family unit, around 1995. 

There were some bumps and hurdles, of course. I don't think Dad's family really accepted us for a couple of years. They were happy to have us, and would buy me and my mother nice gifts, would be happy to feed us and have family time with us, but they were always sort of detached from us as we were very clearly the outsiders of the gathering. This softened more as time went on and as we attended more family events/dinners not just on holidays -- we indeed spent a lot of time with that extended family, had many Sunday dinners with them, went to the occasional event with them (like fireworks in the park and that sort of thing), etc. It softened more once Dad's niece also found a man she wanted to marry and eventually did, and he was brought into the family much like we were. 

Likewise, in our own family, my Dad was very quickly accepted and brought into the fold -- my family universally hated my former stepfather and had no idea why my mother was with him, and my Dad was a breath of fresh air to the family gatherings. It also helped that the bassist in Dad's band was, coincidentally, someone that almost everyone in the family of my mother's generation had gone to school with, and that Dad's band had played some of the district fairs and school dances -- keep in mind my parents are ten years apart in age. 

Anyway.

Christmases, for a couple of years, would start at my grandmother's house with just the three of us, and then Dad would get his kids (except for my oldest brother, who was out on his own and would come by himself) and we'd all head up to Pennsylvania for the family Christmas there. This meant that sometimes Christmas would start at like 6 or 7am when we woke up and did our own Christmas morning, then by 9 or 10 we'd be on the road to my grandmother's house, and then after spending several hours there we'd go to Dad's parents' house for the big family Christmas there, usually getting in riiiiiight around the time dinner was starting -- presents came after dinner -- and we would not get home that night until close to (or sometimes, well after) midnight. If the weather was bad, it took even more time.

This doubling up shit was brutal. I loved the dual family time but my mother was in her 30s at the time and Dad was in his 40s and as time went on, it became harder to actually do it all every year. Add to that the fact that sometimes his kids had special Christmas plans with their mother that we'd have to work around, and within 3-4 years at most, it became untenable. For one, it was hell on my parents the next day if the day after Christmas was a weekday, as they'd have to get up and go right back to work. As a kid in middle/high school when Christmas break was a thing, this wasn't an issue for me. 

Luckily for us, by the late 90s our own family's Christmas gatherings had become unstable. The older kids of my generation were getting married and/or having kids of their own, and a lot of squabbling between the brothers of the family was firing up. By the end of the 90s, half of the family was doing one dinner that some others may or may not attend, and the other half wasn't bothering to come to my grandmother's house. By the early 2000s they would switch up where and who was doing the Christmas dinner at which house and they would just go get my grandmother to take her there. The last everyone family dinner we had was Thanksgiving in 1999 at my uncle's house, and the last holiday dinner we had that multiple families (but not everyone) attended was Easter, at another uncle's house, in 2003.

That meant that we only had one place to go for big holidays from the late 90s forward -- and that was to Dad's parents' house in Pennsylvania. Christmas there was an event every year. My mother used to call it "a production" because it was very elaborate, very structured, and like a stage play. 

Everyone would need to be there by 4, no exceptions, or dinner was starting without you. If dinner started without you, you were basically on your own because nobody was getting up from the table until dinner was over. Get a plate, get in line, serve yourself, find somewhere to sit. Kids sit at the kids table in the living room. Adults sit around the kitchen table and around the dining room table. After dinner was coffee and desserts, if warranted and available. Then all of the food was put away and the kitchen was cleaned, and the tables were cleared. Only the immediate family was allowed to help do this (my mother offered for several years before she was allowed to help clean up). Shelf-stable desserts like cookies, brownies, and the like were left out on platters so people could graze on them as they wanted.

After all of this was done, everyone would gather in the living room and find a sitting spot. And it had better be a comfortable spot, because you weren't going to move for hours -- several hours. Why? Because you wouldn't be able to, not with the chaos that was about to erupt. Dad's family had a very specific tradition where everyone opens their gifts one by one from the youngest (all of the youngest grandkids and kids) to the oldest (Dad's parents -- both of whom are now deceased). Before this process, however, you had to get your seat because all of the gifts would be distributed and put in piles in front of everyone's sitting spot. There those gifts would sit until it was your specific turn to open them. When it was your turn, you were the center of attention -- you'd open your gift, hold it up and show everyone what it was, say who it was from, and let everyone ooh and ahh at it -- usually this would also be accompanied by a short story from the gift-giver as to why this particular gift was given and where it was found. You'd do this one by one until all of your gifts were gone, at which point your time in the spotlight would be over and they'd move to the next oldest person. 

I lived through this throughout enough years to where I figured it was normal, that's just how all big families did their Christmases -- and it wasn't until I was well into my adult years where I realized just how bizarre all of it was. Once Daisy and I got together and we began having Christmases with her sisters, their husbands, and the kids -- even before Daisy and I were married -- I remember being puzzled that everyone just opened their gifts all at once and they didn't necessarily focus on one person at a time. Sometimes we did, as adults, but the kids? Hell no, the kids wanted to tear into everything as soon as possible.

So, because the family Christmas presents started with the kids -- all of the youngest kids first, guess who had the most presents? If you said "the youngest kids, all five or six of them at the time" you'd be correct -- from the infants on up through the teenagers and adult kids and then to the actual adults, the present counts would slowly decrease and the "production" would speed up, but every year it took a very long time to get through the kids' stuff. This time only increased once my oldest brother got married and had their first kids, and when my Dad's niece got married and had her own kid. 

I was right in the middle of the kids' lot -- I was in my teenage years in the 90s during the heyday of this, so in the beginning I was third, and by the time the 2000s rolled around I was fourth, fifth, and then sixth as more kids were being born into the family.

I will also stress that these weren't little gifts either -- some of them were pretty large and/or expensive, enough to rival the gifts I got from my parents at times. From Dad's family I got many videotapes (Men in Black, Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers: The Movie, and a bunch of anime), a ton of Star Wars figures and merchandise during the re-releases and the prequels, a lot of music on CD, a lot of good clothing (band t-shirts, some pants, and an Old Navy performance fleece that I wore for many years) as well as stuff like food, coffee, candies, board/card games, etc. It was always a really good haul from the family -- and I was always surprised by the gifts they'd lavish on me.

Once the kids were all done, we tended to gather our stuff and take it out to the car. My brother usually had a game system with him -- I remember the year he got the Atari Jaguar, which was wild at the time -- and we'd hook it up to the small TV in the kitchen and play games while all of the adults would take another two or three hours to open their gifts. If I got a book that year, I'd usually spend some time reading it. If the weather wasn't awful, sometimes we'd go outside in the night and play in the snow. When I became a smoker in college, I would step outside onto the porch and smoke a few cigarettes just to get away from the noise and hubbub for a bit, as by that time I was much older and was no longer really "one of the kids." 

Eventually, as the years went on and the generations grew up and/or got much older, the focus became more on the kids and grandkids and my mother and I would continue to go just to see everyone, but it wasn't as much an event as it had been in my teenage years when all the kids of my generation were much younger -- the focus was now on the new additions to the family, of which there were many (my oldest brother alone had three kids over the course of seven years or so). Eventually my mother and I just sort of...phased out of it? I don't know how to describe it other than that. The last year we both attended the big family Christmas was 2004, I think. I was getting ready to graduate college, and the youngest kids at the time were slightly older than toddlers. Once I graduated college and moved out of the house, Dad would go by himself to the family Christmas, sometimes with or without his own kids as well (depending on their own holiday plans). As far as I know, the family Christmases continued for many years afterwards, including after Dad's father's death a few years ago -- however, with the death of his mother about a month ago now, they may be all done now. 

I mentioned above that during the 90s was when I got into a lot of the "traditions" that I still hold dear today, that the 90s was when most of my warm-and-fuzzy memories associated with Christmas or for the season in general got their start, and that's true. I hate to really say it but a lot of them are commercially-based -- and by that I mean "in the spirit of commerce and consumption" not "holiday television commercials." A lot of my best memories of holidays in the 90s involve shopping and excursions to do things that I didn't normally get to do, simply because it was my birthday or Christmastime. 

I've mentioned here before, and even above, about the Pittsburgh trips to Century III Mall around my birthday every year. Malls in the 90s were magical places, and Century III was one of the best in the area. Occasionally we'd go to South Hills Village, as well, though Century III was always the clear winner in my book -- because the Olive Garden, Burlington Coat Factory, and Best Buy were all right next to it. 

Dinners at the Olive Garden were quite special and magical to me -- mind you, this was the 90s, and I didn't exactly grow up in a wealthy environment. This food was fancy to me and it was an absolute event. My choice was usually the Tour of Italy -- it was my go-to year after year. I believe it's actually still on the menu. It was chicken parm, fettucine alfredo, and a big slice of lasagna. Nothing ever tops my mother's lasagna, but Olive Garden came pretty close. The excitement of that coupled with the salad and unlimited breadsticks -- plus, usually, a dessert of tiramisu afterwards -- was pure joy to me as a kid. I don't think it would carry that same joy today (even if I were still eating meat, which I'm not) that it carried in the 90s.

The next stop was always Burlington -- which, in the 90s was also a much different place than it is today. "Coat Factory" was still part of its name, and it definitely played the part -- the entire basement/downstairs of Burlington (because yes, it was a two-story Burlington in Pittsburgh) was coats, trenchcoats, parkas, suit jackets, etc. I got my first two trenchcoats in Burlington in the 90s -- a black one in 1996 and a gray one in 1998. The black one I wore well into college until it eventually just disintegrated into scraps, and the gray one I wore after that for many years, until I finally donated it to Goodwill well after Daisy and I were married. Both coats were birthday or Christmas gifts in their respective years. 

I got a lot of other clothing from Burlington over the years as well -- several denim vests, many pairs of jeans, most of my socks, some sweaters and button-up shirts, etc. They weren't as "fast fashion" back then as they are today -- they didn't carry a lot of t-shirts with comic/anime characters or logos on them at the time. They were just a basic clothing retailer for normal folks, and as a fat kid I was always thrilled that they carried stuff in my size for not a lot of money, stuff that would last a few years and not quickly fall apart. Some years during the December trip up there, I'd get a lot of stuff (I just counted it as birthday/Christmas presents, because the vast majority of it I didn't pay for myself, the parents bought it); other years it was a bust and I couldn't find much of anything. As the 90s transitioned into the 2000s, the latter started becoming the common outcome.

Sometimes after Burlington, but before the mall, we'd go to Best Buy too. This became more frequent in the later 90s and afterwards (98, 99, 2000 etc) once my parents had bought our house on top of the mountain together and after we had a giant TV, 5-disc DVD player, and my PlayStation (1998 Christmas gift). We didn't always hit up Best Buy. Sometimes it was getting late in the day and we either weren't interested or wouldn't have time to work it in. If we went on a weekday for this trip, eventually the parents would begin to just take the day off for us to get an early start and be able to do it with enough time to get everything done, because if we left for Pittsburgh when they got off work at 5pm, depending on weather it could take two hours to get there from Morgantown, then dinner for another hour or more, and by the time we would even start shopping it could and frequently would be after 8 or later. It just wasn't possible to fit everything in, so by the later 90s it became an all-day thing -- my parents would take the day off work for my birthday (or we'd leave early on a Saturday or Sunday morning if my birthday fell anywhere near close to a weekend) and just make it an event. Also, by the time the later 90s rolled around, and I was getting older and could appreciate electronics/music/games, Dad's kids would sometimes come along with us on said trip -- when they did, Best Buy was always a stop we made.

For those of you who weren't alive in the 90s, or are too young to remember, Best Buy in the 90s was an amazing place if you were a music and video game nerd like I was. I'm not sure how many things I actually purchased over the years on those trips, either for myself or for other people, but it was a magical time when if there was a particular record you were looking for, if you couldn't find it at Best Buy, you likely wouldn't be able to find it anywhere else. In the years where VHS and DVD could be found on shelves together, you could also find DVD-audio discs -- DVDs that were music-only albums and were to be played in your DVD player with apparently "better" sound quality. I never had any, but quirky stuff like this is a lot of what I remember -- aisles filled with tube televisions or big-screen projection TVs (not flatscreens), or giant Packard Bell or IBM-branded computers with a whopping 16MB of RAM and a Pentium 1, 166mhz processor being advertised as "lightning fast" or "this computer will never be obsolete!"

It can all be yours for $1,900! With a 16-inch monitor that weighs eighty-five pounds!

Yeah, electronics shopping in the 90s was wild, all. 

Not to mention the video games. Aisles upon aisles of video game systems, games, display consoles you could play demos on, and everything video-game related. In the mid-90s this wasn't a big deal to me; I just had the Genesis and the Game Boy, and both consoles were on their way out at the time to make room for the next generation of systems like the N64, Saturn, and PlayStation. Once I got the PlayStation -- but more importantly, after my brother got his PlayStation -- I began to pay a lot more attention to the games that were available. 

By the way, the NES I never got? I did get it in the 90s, in a roundabout way. I was one of the first people I knew with the internet and a decent (at the time) computer, at the time when emulation was first getting off the ground. I therefore had an entire NES collection of roms and an emulator on my first computer by 1998. I vividly remember the night we came home from my oldest brother's wedding, I configured it and spent hours playing The Legend of Zelda and the first few Mario games until I was tired enough to go to sleep. 

I did purchase a secondhand NES from a local game shop for $35 when I was in high school. 

Anyway.

When we were done at Best Buy, we'd finally hit up the mall, which was usually (because of the season) a madhouse. But, I always had a plan.

You see, every year for my birthday, my godfather (not sure what else to call him, really) would write me a $75 check as a present. It would come in the mail shortly before my birthday and we would generally cash it at the bank on the way to Pittsburgh. That money was my money to do with what I wished. $75 to a kid is a lot of money, honestly, and it was doubly so in the 90s -- quite literally, $75 then was $150 in today's money.

That $75 check every year was my Christmas shopping budget for the parents more often than not. Sometimes I would use it all, sometimes I would use some or most of it, and sometimes I'd spend more on myself than I did them (I was a teenager and was set loose in a thriving mall, so...you do the math there). Usually I had some other cash to supplant it with -- I'd save any other cash I got for a couple of months for the Pittsburgh trip -- but if I didn't have anything else, $75 was what I was working with.

I don't remember a lot of what I got my parents over these years; I know one year I got my mother a $40-something Bath & Body Works gift basket that weighed a ton because it came in a giant glass fishbowl. I remember getting Dad a book or two, or some various comic-related collectibles (he was, and is, a giant nerd to this day, and he's who really got me into comics) and some various electronic things here and there, but for the most part it's impossible to try to remember specifics for different years.

Century III Mall always had multiple stores I'd hit up for multiple reasons, because it was the heyday of mall culture -- and all of those stores no longer exist: Waldenbooks, Babbage's, Electronics Boutique, Kay-Bee Toys, National Record Mart, and the comic shop in the mall (had various names, various locations, and various owners over most of the 90s and early 2000s before eventually shutting down completely). 

The stores that I hit up that do still exist are Bath & Body Works, Hot Topic, Spencer Gifts, and Suncoast Motion Picture Company. None of them are the same now as they were in the 90s.

Well, okay, Spencer Gifts is mostly the same. I didn't even think Suncoasts existed anymore, but there's one in Westroads Mall here in Omaha that is open and still doing good business, surprisingly enough.

Anyway, once we were in the mall, we'd set a time and a place to meet back up at (usually an hour or so later), and then we'd all split up and go our separate ways. If my siblings were with us, I'd occasionally run into them as we went to similar stores. If they weren't, then it was a marathon run through all of the stores I needed to peruse before I'd have to get back to meet the parents at the agreed-upon time. Throughout the trip, by hitting up these stores and/or a few others at random if/when I had the time, I could almost always do all of my Christmas shopping in one fell swoop. But, if I'd already done some or all of the necessary gift-shopping at Burlington or Best Buy, whatever money I had left at the mall was all mine to use on whatever I wanted.

As the trip was partially a birthday trip for me (well, it was mostly a birthday trip for me every year), I always looked to get at least one thing for myself -- a birthday present to me, from me. More often than not this was a t-shirt or CD or game of some sort. In different years, I purchased Akira and Ghost in the Shell shirts from Hot Topic -- they were one of the only places where you could get anime-related clothing at the time -- and other years I purchased my first Misfits and NOFX shirts there too. One year I bought a t-shirt in Suncoast that was the poster for Transformers: The Movie when all of the G1 stuff was getting a resurgence and being re-released. I used to scour the discount t-shirt racks in all of these stores for nerdy stuff I couldn't find anywhere else. 

I don't own any of that clothing anymore, by the way; this was over 25 years ago now for the most part, and over that time most of it either disintegrated from heavy wear or were later donated in purges of my closet.

At the end of the night, on the ride back home in the backseat, I would either doze off or would be quietly satisfied with the events of the day. It was always a good way to celebrate my birthday and set me in the mood for the remainder of the Christmas season.

We stopped the trips around the time I was ready to graduate from college; I had mostly outgrown the need or desire for them at that point and nasty weather had snarled one or two of them in the later years. Olive Garden was no longer the novelty it once was, and Burlington rarely had anything I was interested in as the years shifted from the 90s into the early-to-mid 2000s. As for Best Buy, as I got older I realized just how inflated their prices were compared to, say, Walmart -- for the exact same things. After 9/11, and after internet shopping began to become the new norm, many of the stores in the mall started quietly shutting down or their parent companies began going out of business or changing/merging with other companies. Waldenbooks and Kay-Bee Toys disappeared. Hot Topic changed its business strategy from goth/punk culture store to more pop-culture store. Babbages merged with Electronics Boutique, which eventually became EB Games and then eventually became Gamestop. Suncoasts began disappearing everywhere. The comic shop in the mall -- somewhere I could almost always find some interesting stuff or back issues in 25-or-50-cent bins, closed down sometime after I started college.

The mall rapidly went through a decline in the late 2000s and closed down for good in 2019, long after I'd moved out of the area. Recent reports say that it is collapsing in on itself and is scheduled to be demolished. The last time I was there was probably 2004 or 2005, and even by that point it was a pale shadow of what it once was. The era had truly ended.


Sunday, December 17, 2023

The Holidays, Part XIV: Time Enough at Last

 (Days of work remaining until holiday time off: 2)

With everything done before the holidays that I can feasibly do at the moment, I've found myself with a bit of actual breathing space this weekend. I can sleep when I want, watch TV when or if I want, play a video game, write something, cook, clean, and/or just actually relax. If I sleep weird hours, I don't really care -- sleep when I can; the last two days at work before I'm off for a week will very likely be extremely easy as we roll into the holidays, and I can put my head down and power through two quiet nights in my sleep. 

No pun intended, of course.

Bonus? I'm no longer the director -- I survived my days as director backup unscathed and, mostly, as an observer. I didn't have to engage on nearly anything personally.

My birthday is four days away. At this juncture, the plans we made (and I mentioned here in previous posts) are still relatively unchanged. It's actually supposed to be partly sunny and in the 50s for my birthday too.

Aside from wrapping the Christmas gifts for Daisy, I find myself with little to do way ahead of schedule, far sooner than I ever thought I'd come to that point. 

And it feels very nice.

Because I've been awake weird hours (read: most of them, including overnight hours), I've been able to keep a close and watchful eye on work email. It's not an obsession or anything, of course, but I like to be able to gauge what I'm walking into when I'm coming back from a weekend. If anything looks wild or if someone engages me while I'm off, I can also forward it to the teams on shift or I can boot up Microsoft Teams here on my normal PC and help out on something in real time without needing to go login on the work computer downstairs. I've made the joke with some of the colleagues I'm closer with that I can and sometimes do have eyes on everything that happens in that place. It is mostly a joke indeed, because about 90% of the time I don't give a single shit when I'm not there. I'll give even less of one from the 19th to the 26th, too. 

Anyway.

I've been spending my newfound bit of free time in several ways, as my body only seems to want me to sleep at weird hours for weird stretches. Yesterday morning, despite Daisy being sick, we had a good lead on another candidate for Empress at the humane society in Iowa again. We went over there, found that she'd been moved to the local PetSmart, went there, and she'd already been adopted out. I never even got to see a picture of her -- we were going on text description only.

In the afternoon we found another solid lead for another candidate for Empress, and this one I did get to actually meet -- and she was perfect. Exactly what I was looking for. But her adoption price was $200 and she was being adopted out by a private organization, not the humane society. The private organization's vetting processes and lists of pages upon pages of straight up invasive bullshit questions and requirements to pay them for a cat was ridiculous, and I flat out said no. I'm adopting a cat, not a child. They wanted personality references and background checks and wanted to consult with your current vet, wanted a tour of your house to make sure it's a suitable environment, and I said no. 

I told Daisy that cat will get a wonderful home with someone willing to jump through all of those ludicrous hoops, but that home won't be with us, not when I can go to the humane society and come back with a cat in less than an hour for far cheaper and I can give it just as good of a home.

But Brandon, you may be saying, you said she was perfect.

She had the exact physical look I was looking for in Empress, but I did not get enough time with her to gauge her personality -- and this facility didn't allow you to even pick up the cats to hold them and see if they were cuddly or lovey. I was in a small room with seven other people and about ten other cats,  constantly on camera, and it was intensely uncomfortable to even try to get to see her for more than ten minutes. She seemed interested in me for a few minutes but really just wanted to hide away from the other cats and people in the room. Because I couldn't get to know her or get a feel for her, I finally just gave up, and we left. I will not have anything to do with that organization again, and the 90 minutes I spent there waiting to go into the room to see her is time I'll never get back. 

I'm a little bitter. Could you tell?

I think I'm just going to give up on actively or even passively really looking for Empress for a while. It's really done nothing but provide frustration and disappointment, and a lot of wasted time. Daisy wants other cats too and knows what she's looking for in them, and if she finds one then I'll be happy for her -- but I just can't keep expending this emotional energy for no reason with nothing to show for it. It's becoming unhealthy for me mentally.

In other news, all but the last flash drive has been mailed out to the extended family. The last one will go out on Tuesday, as I mentioned, once I get the last bit of postage I need. I've sealed up the parents' flash drive as well and it will be wrapped with the other Christmas presents during this coming week.

Daisy is still sick. She went out with me yesterday as she wasn't feeling too awful at the time, and we had a nice sit-down dinner date at the local Chinese place afterwards -- but in the late evening hours she got really ill again and that illness has persisted. There's not a lot I can do to help her, really, as much as I'd like to. This cold or whatever it is she has just needs to run its course. She needs to rest more than anything else, and I can't rest for her -- she has to do that herself. 

As for me, I'm fine -- and despite what I've said above, I have been resting a lot, just at weird intervals for weird hours. Yesterday, for example, I slept several hours in the evening and then a few more in the overnight. I'll likely take a nap again this afternoon or evening just to make sure my sleep amounts remain fairly consistent for today and tomorrow. After I finish with work tomorrow night, it doesn't matter when or how I sleep, or how much or little sleep I get, because I don't have to stay up until 7am for work duties anymore until well after Christmas.

Saturday, December 16, 2023

The Holidays, Part XIII: What's in the Box?

 (Days of work remaining until holiday time off: 2)

So here it is, the final weekend before Christmas.

I don't count next weekend because next Sunday is Christmas Eve, and I count that as Christmas as much as I do the day itself.

And Daisy is sick.

We don't know exactly what's wrong with her, but it's likely another bad cold. She tested negative for Covid, and her symptoms don't seem to be as severe as the flu. But, suffice it to say that she's on the struggle bus at the moment and is basically -- for all intents and purposes -- down for the count.

This means we likely won't leave the house today or tomorrow -- which is, honestly, fine by me. This coming week -- and I'm including Christmas in that, even though it's still nine days away -- has a lot of activities and social energy will be needed for it, and I'm perfectly content to just be a vegetable for the time being. 

Every bit of the digitizing, archiving, and storing of all of the family videos is now done -- the last of the flash drives for the Canadian side of the family arrived yesterday, and I spared no time in getting them loaded up with the appropriate videos as necessary. In front of me on my desk I have the copies for everyone else. I was even able to back up my hard drive (on the new 4TB HDD) to not only double-down, but triple-down on the storage of these precious videos -- they're all on the flash drives, my PC's hard drive, and now on the backup drive as well. This means if anything happens, short of the house burning down or something like that, I can't possibly lose them. 

The international stamps I need to send the drives to Canada don't arrive until Monday. That means the absolute earliest the Canadians will get all of their stuff mailed out will be Tuesday, the 19th. Knowing the speed of the mail during the holidays as well as accounting for Canada's mail speed once it crosses the border, it's almost certain that they won't arrive until after Christmas at this juncture. It can't really be helped; I've done everything as fast as I could. I've been working on this stuff since around Thanksgiving and I've likely failed in this regard.

Yesterday, something else arrived in the mail for us -- the yearly box of things my parents send me/us for my birthday and Christmas. My mother had told me she'd sent it on Monday, but there was no tracking provided for it and I honestly had no clue how she'd mailed it -- if she'd done it via USPS, UPS, etc. Normally if something's sent via USPS, I can track it on my "Informed Delivery," which tells me what I'm getting in the mail every day -- mail, packages, etc -- with pictures of all of it and tracking numbers for the packages. However, this giant box never showed up on there.

We've not opened it yet; I was awake for approximately four hours yesterday afternoon, during which time I ate dinner and watched a little TV with Daisy before being back asleep by shortly after 7pm. I plan to open it later today once Daisy and I are both awake and up/about for the day. 

The way presents with my parents work is a bit strange, but there's always a pattern to it, and it goes like this:

  1. Sometime in November, usually before Thanksgiving, my mother asks us what I want for my birthday and what we want for Christmas for the year. I respond by telling her we don't really need anything, but I'll get back to her. This is usually done by text.

  2. Sometime around or after Thanksgiving, my mother asks me the question again, and adds the secondary question of whether I want her to make her famous Chex Mix (which she makes according to the original recipe that Chex put out in the 70s or 80s, following it to the letter). I tell her sure, because her Chex Mix is fucking amazing. This conversation is usually done via phone.

  3. I select what I'm doing for them for Christmas, and it's almost always a random smattering of things that I like that I want to share with them (coffees, usually some sort of food like energy bars or vegan jerky, and at least one personal item for each of them that is very clearly meant for its designated person). Sometimes I do one large blanket gift -- I've made them canvases of pictures of us and of their dogs, for example, which they have hanging on the walls of their house in NC (I can prove this, we were there). Sometimes the "blanket gift" is an actual blanket, as there was a weird tradition in our family that at least one person, if not everyone, would get a blanket every year for Christmas. Anyway, I figure out whatever I'm doing for them -- with or without Daisy's help (mostly without, but sometimes I get her input if it's a big thing, like something large or expensive), order it and have it shipped to their house in NC.

  4. I then reach out to my parents, tell them their presents are on the way and provide the known delivery dates once I have them so they can watch for them -- and then I update my yearly logs* to reflect what I got and how much I spent on them.

  5. My mother will then reach out to me a third time to tell me she's making the Chex Mix and readying a box of stuff for us -- including both something uniquely for me for my birthday and then Christmas presents for each of us -- even though we've not told her anything we've wanted and when I've actively tried to dissuade my mother from spending money on us or on the shipping of a giant box to us. This is usually done via text message. I acknowledge and thank her warmly without putting up a protest, because she's set in her ways and I also think she feels obligated to send us stuff after she knows I've sent them stuff. Also, I want the Chex Mix, so...

  6. At this juncture my parents' presents arrive -- usually anytime between Black Friday and December 10th. This year I sent them early and they arrived well over two weeks ago. They confirm with me that they received all of them. They will not open any of them until Christmas morning, even if I tell them to.

  7. My mother then texts me that she's sent the box and to be looking for it. Usually she follows up with subsequent texts over the course of the following few days asking if I've gotten it yet, but she did not do so this year. I again acknowledge and thank her warmly.

  8. The box, eventually, arrives -- usually about a week before my birthday, but I've had years where it showed up on my birthday or right before/after Christmas, depending on the speed of whatever shipping service she uses on any given year. The box is always repurposed and home-taped with an excessive amount of clear packing tape, and is almost always a re-used box from pet superstore Chewy.com with the old address labels removed and ours pasted on. 

  9. I tell my mother the box has arrived and she encourages me to open it and enjoy all the treats and presents within.


The dates may vary a little here and there every year, but that series of events is, almost always, exactly chronologically the same from year to year.

What's interesting is what my parents send every year. I wouldn't call them eccentric, but there are a number of things that are almost always inside the box no matter what every year:

  1. K-cups of some sort -- sometimes a box, sometimes an assortment
  2. At least one or more boxes of cordial cherries or cordial blueberries
  3. Candy bars, usually Zero bars or Payday bars
  4. Lindt truffles
  5. Two cards -- one for my birthday and one for both of us for Christmas
  6. The aforementioned Chex Mix, two gallon-sized Ziploc bags
  7. The Christmas/Birthday presents themselves
  8. Fuzzy or otherwise holiday-themed socks, which Daisy will generally wear
  9. Some random assorted household things, such as kitchen towels or a bottle of fancy hand soap or something like that -- one year they sent us some kind of airtag devices called "tiles" that I don't think we ever actually used -- perhaps Daisy did, I can't remember
  10. Utz chips

This list has changed considerably over the years; it used to include loaves of bread from my favorite bakery back home in WV (my Dad could not find them this year, I checked with him beforehand), and before I was a vegetarian it would always include pepperoni rolls and giant bags of beef jerky. It also used to include bags of coffee too, or variety packs of flavored coffee, back when I still used the drip coffee pot and not just the Keurig. 

It'll be interesting this year to open the box later today and see how many things I'm right about. I'll also note that usually my Dad sends over an e-gift card to Amazon or somewhere like that for my birthday/our Christmas gift as well, in addition to everything in the box. 

It's very sweet that my parents do all of this for us. I am my mother's only child and while she and I may not have seen eye to eye on everything over the years, I am truly her pride and joy and even when I'm in my 40s and she's in her 60s, she wants to continue to "take care of me" with these boxes as a way to show her love.


*I keep yearly logs for everyone I get gifts for, including what they were, the dates they were purchased, and how much money was spent on each individual gift, along with a grand total for each "set" of folks. My parents' stuff this year was a total of $122, and the stuff we did/bought for Daisy's parents was somewhere in the $130 range, give or take. I'm not going to mention here until after Christmas is over what everyone got, on the off-chance that my parents or Daisy's parents randomly decide to visit this website between now and Christmas. We didn't just do the videos for the parents, of course -- we also got them other stuff. In addition, I'm absolutely not going to mention what I got for Daisy or what her total was because if I mention the total, she will know what 2/3 of the gifts are, and she did tell me that she went back and started reading through my posts here again recently. 

Thursday, December 14, 2023

The Holidays, Part XII: The Beauty Girl

 (Days of work remaining until holiday time off: 3)

With Daisy confirmed to be off from the 20th through the 26th, that changes around our timetables a bit for what we're doing and when we can do it. Her sister, husband, and their boys arrive in town on the 26th -- the day Daisy returns to work. I myself have the 26th off; I took it off on purpose, so that I am not working:

  • Another Tuesday (Tuesdays are the worst nights at my job, consistently, every week)
  • A Tuesday after a holiday weekend -- the biggest holiday weekend -- when our clients are returning to business as usual for the week before New Year's, and
  • It happens to be a full moon.

Yeah, fuck all of that, precisely all of it. Working that night would be like asking for trouble and to be punished, and I'm already punished enough in that soul-sucking place. 

The past three nights, I have been acting director of the entire After Hours program while my boss is on vacation. I'll do it again tonight, too, to end my week. He returns on the 19th -- my first night off for the holidays. I told him, before he left, that was good timing. Truth be told, this week hasn't been awful being the big boss so far, and tonight's my last real night of it -- when I return on Sunday and Monday, our other director is in, and power goes to him.

Now that I've said that, tonight will be terrible, you watch. I've jinxed it now.

I am completely done with the archiving and digitizing of the family video collection. I've made a copy of it for us, a copy for the parents, and a copy for each of Daisy's sisters. For her sister in Pennsylvania, that copy went out in the mail today, and I gave our brother-in-law the heads up on that (I'd rather it be a complete surprise for Daisy's sister if possible). I'll give the parents their copy this weekend and Daisy's oldest sister will get her copy when she arrives in town with the family on the 26th.

So what's left? Well...

Three more 32GB flash drives arrive in the mail tomorrow -- one for each of Mom's brothers/family in Canada. I also ordered two more sheets of international stamps. Once everything arrives, I'll load the family-specific videos onto those flash drives and send them out one by one over the course of the next week. One goes to Ontario, one goes to Halifax, and the other goes to the family homestead (mainly because said uncle lives next door to grandma and handles the mail). I'm really hoping that I can get everything done and sent and have it all arrive before Christmas, but as we're nine days out at this point and I don't know how long Canada Post takes to mail things -- especially as the holiday mailing season ramps up -- I don't know if that will be possible. I also can't rush the new international stamps being mailed to me by the USPS, because...well, they move at the speed and efficiency of the USPS. I'll leave it at that.

Daisy has not been feeling great this week; we were supposed to have a friend over for dinner tonight, and she had to cancel because she's been under the weather. She'll be working from home tomorrow too, even though she's normally in the office on Fridays, because of her feeling sick.

I've been fine; Daisy always worries about making me ill whenever she's sick, but aside from a handful off times (less than I can count on one hand over the course of our entire eleven-year-long relationship, and that includes Covid) have I ever gotten sick with or from something that made her sick. Neither of our immune systems are what they once were, but I'm still pretty healthy most of the time. 

"Watch me work tonight, have this weekend, and work Sunday and Monday," I said, "and then get sick and be sick throughout all of the holiday time I have off, including my birthday."

Because I know my luck, and I also know that anytime I have planned time off that I've been looking forward to for a long time, something always fucks up part of it. 

Anyway.

There was another cat we were interested in at the Humane Society today. Daisy, despite feeling ill, was there when they opened to go see her -- only to find that they'd moved her to the PetSmart up the street from our house. She is gorgeous:



But,
sadly, she just is not the cat for us. Daisy said she had no interest in humans nor did she want to do anything but roughhouse and play with the other cats in the kennel with her, and as beautiful as she is, there were zero vibes for Daisy when she was there -- those behaviors aside. I'm sure she'll find a home very quickly, but it just won't be with us. 

Again, I will stress that we do not want another cat right now, nor do we need one -- but there's just this instinct that tells me that I need to keep looking, that my Empress might be right around the corner, as a blink-and-you'll-miss-it sort of opportunity. This cat would not have been Empress, she would have had another name entirely because she is not Empress, but I would've been open to her had she been the right fit. That's all we're looking for, really. The Right Fit. Daisy has always had a dream of a house filled with many, many cats, and now that we have the house, the means, and the time, I would like to slowly help her fulfill that dream. But those cats have to be right, and even though this beauty girl was gorgeous, it's not just about the look. 

I will say that there's a long-haired orange boy kitten at the humane society right now though, and if he were not male I don't care what his personality is, he'd be in our house tomorrow. 

Tuesday, December 12, 2023

The Holidays, Part XI: The New Tapes

 (Days of work remaining until holiday time off: 5)

Saturday afternoon, we returned the first batch of tapes to the parents' and Daisy and her father found the rest of them. Daisy was right -- I did get most of them on the first go-around, as there are less than ten left. 

Until you count the camcorder.

In the late 90s, Dad got a new camcorder, a Sony Handycam. 





The Handycam takes Hi8 tapes -- 8MM tapes, unlike the more common VHS-C camcorder format. They're about double the thickness of an audio cassette and slightly smaller in overall size, and look very similar to a miniaturized VHS tape.

Well, there's no such thing as a VHS adapter for a Hi8 tape -- at least none that I could find anywhere online. Even the VHS-C adapter tapes are somewhat hard to come by and are expensive these days.

Dad had 7-8 tapes for the camcorder, all with various stuff on them. Unlike the tapes from the basement, on which I never knew exactly what I'd find, these tapes were all guaranteed to be home movies -- family footage from events and holidays and the like.

I just didn't know how to get them onto the computer, and from there onto the flash drives. Truth be told, I've never actually used a camcorder before. Of any sort, large or small -- they were sort of a novelty and very expensive when I was a kid, so very few people I knew had them, and as I got older and became a teenager and adult, I just...never cared, I guess? I grew up in the 80s and 90s in rural West Virginia -- a lot of people didn't even have fancy cameras, let alone video cameras. Part of this is why there's no family videos of me and very few pictures of me from my childhood. I didn't own a digital camera until 2005, didn't own a decent one until 2011, and didn't have a phone with a truly useable camera on it until somewhere around that point too. So, I was behind the times on a lot of tech and didn't really think about camcorders. 

Because there's no adapter for the tapes, they must be transferred via the camcorder itself -- by plugging in the AV cables and hooking them up to the plug that runs into my USB port -- and then turning on playback mode. The problem is that the camcorder runs off rechargeable batteries and after 25 years, they've degraded to the point where they're almost unusable. I've had to keep the camcorder plugged in while I've gone through the set of those tapes.

What did I find? Well...

  • Daisy's oldest sister's pre-prom video (2002)
  • Our oldest niece's first birthday party (2007)
  • That niece's preschool Christmas pageant (2009)
  • Daisy's 14th birthday (2002)
  • Family Christmas (2009)
  • Daisy playing her cello in orchestra (2002)
  • A high school theater awards ceremony, where Daisy's oldest sister and her now-husband both win multiple awards (2002)
  • A full 90 minutes of Daisy's grandparents' (the Canadian ones) 50th Anniversary Party™ -- with everyone there, including people who are now sadly deceased (2002)
  • and a video I called "Thirty Minutes of Rocks: Mom and Dad Explore the Utah Desert"

As an aside, that really is what it is -- it is thirty minutes of rocks. Oooh, look! Another rock!

Amongst other short snippets of "life as it happened," as Mom says. 

The last tape I have yet to go through and digitize -- and as far as I know at this juncure, that's all of them -- is Daisy's performance in Fiddler on the Roof. At least that's what the tape is marked as. Who knows if that's what's actually on it. 

So far I'm at 73.3 GB of video. The Hi8 camcorder tapes seem to be encoded differently, so it's not a continual stream of 1MB per second of video for the most part. It appears to depend on the tape manufacturer and recording speed, though. 

This has all been an incredible undertaking of time and effort. I've spent hours at this computer every day for three weeks doing this work. I've sacrificed sleep to do it. I've sacrificed decompression and meal time to do it. I have (temporarily) filled my hard drive with a lot more data than I'm comfortable with losing were a catastrophic failure to occur.

Don't worry, I back up all of the videos to one of the flash drives at the end of every session. I won't lose those. But still.

Throughout all of this, there's still a lot going on in the background. Daisy has been busy at work as well as socially, and my job's not been that fun this week either. For the next three nights in a row, I am the Director in charge -- as my boss is OOO until the day I start my holiday vacation (Sunday/Monday, our other director is there). I'm not exactly happy about this as it was a nightmare the last time my boss was OOO, but I'm hoping that as we creep closer to the holidays, the idiocy will die down somewhat. I told my peers that this week is likely going to be the last real week of craziness before our workloads die down like crazy for the rest of the month -- as is the way it generally works.

I am still in the "Christmas spirit," though it feels like it's taking forever to get here this year. November went quickly -- so far, December has not. As you can see at the top of each one of these posts, I'm counting down the days.

My birthday is a week from tomorrow and we finally have some rough plans for it. Daisy confirmed with me that she is fully off work from the 20th through the 26th -- almost a full week -- so we do have some wiggle room if the plans fall through. We will:

1. Have breakfast at a small restaurant downtown that does vegan/GF options
2. Drive out to the waaaaay west side of Omaha to the putt-putt golf place and do that
3. Return to the parents' for my birthday dinner, where Mom is making me poutine

That's the rough plan, anyway. Whether we actually do it remains to be seen; weather/cold may be a factor, and I may just not feel like doing anything but the dinner (which is important to me). We may choose to do something else entirely. I'm not fully settled on everything yet.

Saturday, December 9, 2023

The Holidays, Part X: The Birthday

 (Days of work remaining until holiday time off: 7)

My birthday is December 20. That's eleven days from now.

I have no plans for my birthday. 

Usually, I get a new tattoo (or attempt to do so). This year I already did that -- I got the blue jay on my arm in July. I don't want or need any more ink right now.

I wanted to go see the new Ghostbusters movie for my birthday -- it was originally slated for release on my birthday. But, it got pushed back to the spring, so...can't do that.

There are no movies coming out that I am even a little interested in. 

I used to request we go to a Chinese buffet for my birthday every year -- well, I've been a vegetarian for over five years now, and even before that the Chinese buffets in this town that used to be good experienced an incredibly drop in quality, to the point where I wasn't interested anymore even before I went vegetarian.

I sometimes request pizza from our favorite local place at some point around my birthday/Christmas -- it's a treat. However, we've had their pizza multiple times since Halloween or so and I really don't need/want more of it at this juncure.

We've already gone to the zoo to see the fancy light displays (the night before Thanksgiving; I documented this here too). 

Any cats at the humane society that I'm interested in either disappear or are adopted very quickly before I can even go see them with Daisy.

Going shopping in a post-pandemic world, five days before Christmas, sounds like a terrible idea. And generally shopping requires money. Also, there's nothing I really want or need. I rarely leave the house unless I have to -- it's not like I need more clothing to "show off." Who would I show it off to? The cats?

We generally always have enough food and supplies in the house, and when we don't, we go get more or order necessities online. Food shopping right before Christmas is a terrible idea -- I generally advise people to avoid that nightmare as much as possible.

There aren't any events coming up anytime soon that I'm aware of or interested in. 

I hate parties and have discouraged Daisy from throwing one for me. I did a birthday party with a bunch of friends at the house but once. Halfway through it I wanted it to end, and by the actual end of it I had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room.

Soooo....yeah, no plans.

Throughout the morning today -- while we were in the car driving to and from a humane society in Iowa to look at (yes, you guessed it) more cats, Daisy and I began to brainstorm ideas. I'm not dead set on anything yet, but putt-putt golf and a special dinner are some strong contenders.

I told Daisy in our conversation that it didn't have to be anything special, I just wanted to do something different that I'd enjoy. I'm not one of those people who needs to have grandiose plans or have everyone make me the center of attention, lavish gifts on me and generally be an asshole about his birthday. There are very few things in life I want or need, and most of them I already have in abundance. Any excess just seems wasteful and labor-intensive. 

I'm not dead set on anything yet. I have some time. Daisy is supposed to be off the 20th, 21st, and 22nd (she clarified with me this morning) -- so if weather doesn't pan out, or if one of us isn't feeling that great, or anything along those lines we do have some options and some time to work with. 

As for the cats? Eh. There was a beautiful little female tabby that Daisy wanted to see and visit with, but she was already "on hold" for someone to come get her, per the humane society staff. We looked at a tiny little black cat, a boy, who was very much like Pete, and a male gray tabby that was very much like a male version of Sadie, but while both of them were very cute, they didn't have the vibe. Daisy later told me that if I'd wanted the little black boy she would not have been opposed to us taking him home, but...after Hank, and seeing Pete's reaction to Hank (it got better) I don't really want to introduce another male into the household for territorial competitions. If we only had Hank and didn't have Pete, I would've immediately brought him home. I'm sure he'll make a wonderful little boy for someone who's not us and I don't expect him to last long in the shelter before he's snatched up.

The Holidays, Part IX: The Archiving Continues

 (Days of work remaining until holiday time off: 7)

Christmas is gonna be wild this year. 

I am convinced that I will win Christmas this year -- even more than the year where I gifted the parents a $400 iPad that I'd won in a work raffle -- a raffle I'd specifically entered for them because hey, it was 2016, I didn't need an iPad. But Mom and Dad did, because theirs was too old to really use anymore.

I've said that each year, if possible, I try to create something for the parents and the family if I can. Yes, there are years where I've just purchased things due to time, creativity, or plain stress, but if I have the time and energy I do try to make something.

A few years back I got a soldering iron with some special craft-related wood-burning tips for it, some unfinished wooden plaques and wood stain, and a thick polyurethane lacquer -- and I made plaques with everyone's names on them. For Daisy's sister's family, it was a big cutting board made of olive wood and purchased from HomeGoods, and put the family name on it. 

That was then. The future is now, old man.

I have completed the run of tapes that I brought over from the parents' last weekend. Some of the tapes are blanks, some contain what appears to be documentaries or taped news coverage (Mom likely used this when she was working/teaching at the school); some have kids' programming on them (Barney, Elmo, etc). The rest were all family videos dating from the 1980s to the mid-1990s. There are still more in the house, of course. The parents and Daisy do not currently know where they are. Daisy said I likely got most of them, but I do not think I did. The family has a decent idea of a general area they might be in, and I'll likely look for them tomorrow when I return this big box of tapes to them. I have a little more than two weeks before Christmas to find them, digitize them, and get the videos onto flash drives for the family if I want it to be ready for the holidays. 

The recording software has its limitations -- for example, I can record anything as long as I want, but once it reaches over a certain size (generally around 4-5GB) I can't move it off my hard drive for some reason -- it says the file is too big for its destination, even when there's way more than enough room on my portable external HD as well as the flash drives. 4-5GB is about an hour of video, give or take, so anything longer than that must be broken into chunks. I digitized an entire school play last night and it's too large to put on the flash drives -- I'll have to re-record it all over again and break it into chunks. 

That play, by the way, is Miracle on 34th Street -- and one of the most absolutely unhinged versions of the story I have ever seen. It includes:

  • Liberal usage of the Seinfeld theme in the most inappropriate places
  • A metal version of the Inspector Gadget theme (no, I'm not kidding)
  • Liberal usage of the Night Court theme for no real reason
  • Liberal usage of Yello's "Oh Yeah" -- yes, the song from Ferris Bueller, also in the most inappropriate places
  • Liberal usage of the Perry Mason theme
  • High schoolers playing old men and women, but
  • Actual old men and women playing old men and women too
  • Intermissions that whoever recording the tape didn't pause through, so it's just a black screen with people coughing/talking in the background while tinny Christmas music is playing
  • Entire sections of the play that's just spoken dialogue with a black stage, where I guess the action is supposed to take place in the viewer's mind. And yes, this is intentional and bizarre -- whoever was making the recording was zoomed in on the stage as if they were like "uh, is it supposed to be dark?"

It is one of the lowest-quality recordings I've digitized yet, but not because of the tape -- the tape is fine; it's the angles and zooms that makes everyone slightly blurry. It's watchable, but barely.

Daisy and her oldest sister are in it; Daisy is an extra (one of the children in the background in several scenes; she waits in line and actually sits on Santa's lap at one point), while her oldest sister has a rather large part waaaaaaay at the end of the play in the last twenty or so minutes when Santa is on trial (spoilers?).

In talking to Mom about it, the play is from when they lived in Iowa, approximately 1998 or 1999. Daisy would've been in middle school at the time and her oldest sister was in high school (probably why she was in the play).

Anyway.

To assist me in all of these endeavors, last week when I knew this would be a thing, I purchased five 128GB flash drives from Amazon -- one for the parents, one for each of Daisy's sisters, one for us to keep (so these videos don't permanently live on my hard drive), and a spare in the event we'd need one, if one got lost or failed/was defective. I mentioned this here before. What I didn't mention is that for the first time in a decade, I purchased a new external HDD to use as a backup. The backup external HDD I've had since 2013 or so is a 500GB HDD. It works wonderfully and up until now has proven to be more than adequate for my storage needs, as my PC's internal HDD is 2TB. However, these videos I'm recording are massive and there could still be 20-30 tapes to go that I haven't found yet. I need somewhere to put all that data in the event that my PC suffers a sudden catastrophic failure -- which has, of course, happened before, and I need room to spare for anything I can find in the future.

The new external HDD is 4TB, eight times more space than the one I've been using for a decade. It was a little over $100 on Amazon and I've had an eye on it for some time. No better time than now to pull the trigger, I suppose, when I'm going to be spending the next few weeks needing as much space as I can get my hands on.

Now comes the process of moving everything off the old backup drive onto the new one -- while I backup my files regularly from my PC, the old backup drive contains a lot of stuff not currently on this PC and not currently saved anywhere but on that drive (so that I don't take up more space on my computer's HDD than I have to). Easiest way to transfer is to get those files onto my PC again, then to fully back up all of my current files onto the new drive along with those ones. 

Please note: I am well-aware that describing this process is likely mind-numbingly boring for most of you.

Anyway.

The 22.6GB of video I've saved from these tapes so far is a total of about six hours of footage. It's a drop in the bucket compared to the space I have, but again, I don't know what's left in the basement. This is only about fifteen tapes I have so far. Even if this is it, if this is all I can get before the holidays, it's been worth it. 

This week went remarkably fast at work, and I don't exactly know how because it honestly wasn't easy. I have wished and hoped for these last remaining days I have to be there before vacation to go quickly and quietly, and it's likely that the closer we get to the actual holidays, the work will dwindle down and the nights will be quieter as our clients begin going on extended vacations for those holidays.

At least, that's the way it generally happens every year. Some years are anomalies all their own.

All coverage has been pretty finalized for the holidays for overnights; I've done the work there myself to make sure the holiday shifts have enough staffing. I do this for every holiday, because -- if I don't -- nobody else cares enough to do it. I do get some gratitude from the higher-ups for it, but nowhere near enough for the amount of work I put into it. Add to this that nobody wants to work holidays, so I feel like an absolute dick asking the teams, essentially, "hey, do you want to sacrifice personal and family time for the sake of a soulless telecom conglomerate?" 

As an aside, I think it's absolute horseshit that there aren't holidays where everything shuts down and businesses close and stay closed until they're over. Well, there are, for some companies. We do not. I am very resentful that what we do operates 24/7/365 like we perform emergency services or something like that. Trust me, we don't. Clients can be inconvenienced for a day at a time sometimes, over a holiday, and nobody's going to die. Shit will still get fixed. I long for the day where every job, especially mine, is like the postal service -- yep, we're closed down hard on all of these different days of the year and also, all of our leadership has weekends off. Oh, also, Saturdays are spotty for deliveries and general mail, so...best of luck. If you want to complain about any of our services, go for it, but nobody cares. We'll handle your stuff in business hours. Deal with it.

That will likely never happen for my place of work. But, a man can dream.

Wednesday, December 6, 2023

The Holidays, Part VIII: The Archivist

 (Days of work remaining until holiday time off: 9)

Hank seems fine. He'll get the last of his medications over the next few days -- mostly just the steroids -- and he has been the wonderful little lovey goblin we've come to expect him to be over the course of these last six months or so:




He has very different relationships with both Daisy and myself. With Daisy he is very affectionate, will lay on her chest and snuggle/lick her, will want to be held for long stretches of time, and absolutely recognizes her as his mom. With me, he wants love and attention and to be my shadow -- sitting on my feet, always needing to be in the room with me, crying at me for love or food, and always bringing me toys so I'll play fetch with him. He will almost always sleep with me when I sleep during the day and he just wants to be with me more than anything else. He has brought so much love and good vibes to this household dynamic and is the best little cat we ever could have asked for. 

And this weekend I'm going to put the Santa hat and scarf on him to take some good photos -- if the lighting is good and he continues to act like he's feeling better, of course.

Anyway.

I have begun the long and resource-intensive process of archiving the VHS tapes I was able to retrieve from the parents. So far, this is what I've been able to uncover just for the family stuff:


  • Daisy's oldest sister's modeling video from September 1991
  • Daisy's cousin's ice skating performance from 1998, along with home movies from that family
  • Daisy's oldest sister's ballet performance from 1988 -- recorded three weeks before Daisy was born (Mom is heavily pregnant with Daisy in the video)
  • Daisy's middle sister's birthday party, from 1994 or 1995
  • Dad giving a presentation on some software, likely a work-related video from the mid-90s
  • Daisy's oldest sister's 6th grade graduation video from 1996
  • A tape Daisy's grandfather (Dad's father) made of family activities, including outdoor tourism, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, and scenery in Maine/Vermont in 1989 -- anyone in the video who was over 50 at the time is now long dead -- seriously, I don't think there's a single one of them left alive today, and I only ever met 2-3 of them before they died
  • Daisy's middle sister's high school speech performance (part of it, anyway -- the tape was pretty damaged)

And that's just what I've gotten through so far. Of the tapes I brought back home last weekend I easily have ten more or so to go through. And this doesn't count the giant collection of tapes that Daisy will need to retrieve and bring over to the house so I can go through them between now and Christmas too. When I collected the tapes last weekend I made sure to grab all of the ones that didn't have labels on them, or that the labels were barely legible, as to not skip over something that was possibly an absolute gem, and I'm glad I did -- a few of the above recordings were on otherwise fairly unremarkable tapes, or tapes that were labeled with something innocuous (the grandfather's tape was just labeled with the grandparents' names and "The NeverEnding Story" -- which was also on said tape in its entirety). 

Most of the recordings are short. Daisy's older sister's modeling video is a minute and a half long, Dad's software presentation is something like fifteen minutes, the birthday party is like five minutes, etc. But sitting in a basement deteriorating over the decades, these things would have been lost forever. I only hope the rest of the tapes that Daisy is able to retrieve are in as good condition. 

Through it all, the trusty, ancient VCR has been a trooper. I'm afraid I'm going to wear it out or otherwise kill it before I'm done with my work, and if that happens I will be devastated because they're not exactly easy to replace these days. 

I'm also finding really interesting snapshots of history on the tapes -- such as two back to back news broadcasts (one local, one national) from CTV -- Canadian television, from December 5, 1994. I saved those as well for my own collection because they are absolutely fascinating to me. And let me tell you, Canadian holiday TV commercials in the 90s were wild. I can't wait to see what else I find on these tapes. I told Daisy that I live for this sort of shit.

In other news, we did finally nail down plans for Christmas. Daisy's oldest sister (the one mentioned above) and her family will arrive on the 26th, so Christmas this year will indeed just be the four of us. Daisy offered to do it at our house, but Dad declined that saying he didn't want to go out anywhere, he just wanted to be at home. We will attend the Christmas Eve church service together as planned, barring any unforeseen circumstances. Everything else will be fairly traditional as far as I know -- normal holiday rules apply and all that. We will, of course, celebrate with Daisy's sister and the boys once they're in town, too.

The Holidays, Part VII: He Lives

 (Days of work remaining before holiday time off: 9)

Hank seems mostly fine.

He's eating normally, using the pan normally, seems to be sleeping and exploring the house just fine (well, not at the same time) and for the most part, he's breathing normally. He is purring and lovey and meows and nips at my hand just the same as he always did.

Last night, he did seem a little lethargic still, and I know that was likely due to whatever sickness he has as well as the meds he's on -- I can't imagine they make him feel that great. I'd say he was at about 85% of his normal self at the time. Today he's been almost completely normal during the time I spent with him earlier this afternoon, so either he's getting over what made him sick or the meds are really working, or both.

Daisy cleaned the fish tank yesterday as well, and I don't know that I've ever seen a fish so happy in my life. He swam and explored the whole tank, including the decorations we put in there for him, he gulped down the food Daisy gave him (and the same thing happened when I fed him this morning), and every time we walk in front of the tank and he sees us, he gets all happy and dances for us.

How am I? Well, that's a question I don't really know how to answer.

Most of the time I'm fine. I wake up, I eat something in the evening, I log on to my computer, and I work the night. I get off in the morning, decompress a bit in my chair, and eventually either fall asleep there or move to the bedroom where I will sleep the rest of the day away until nearly dark (because it starts getting dark here at like, 3-4pm now). 

But, there's something wrong with my stomach, and I don't know what it is. Sometimes, when I eat a meal -- it doesn't matter what it is or how little/how much -- within an hour or so I will begin feeling very ill, and will have to run to the bathroom for several rounds of what I call "the screaming shits." It is not every time, but it is often enough now to where there's a noticeable pattern. It will continue for 2-3 hours, off and on, and then I'm fine again. Perfectly fine, in fact, feeling better than I felt beforehand.

I know it's not what I've just eaten in those scenarios -- it physically cannot be what I've just eaten because food does not move through the human body in 30-60 minutes. And I'm fat, so there's more distance to travel.

That's a joke, folks.

Anyway.

There seems to be no real rhyme or reason to these events. I could eat an entire pizza and be fine, or I could have a bowl of soup and be screaming. I could eat a giant bowl of steamed vegetables and (vegetarian) chicken and be fine, or I could have some gluten free pasta with spinach-infused sauce and destroy the bathroom for several hours. There's no discernable pattern other than if it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen shortly after I eat. Which is, frankly, terrifying to me. Does this mean I can't go have holiday meals with the family? That Daisy and I can't eat and then go do something afterwards unless I have close access to a toilet?

I used to say that I had an iron stomach -- I could eat anything at any time and it wouldn't affect me. A full pot of coffee on an empty stomach? Meh, no worries. I did it every day in college and grad school just to survive. Hot sauces and/or curries? No problem. A 32oz porterhouse steak or a two-foot-long sub sandwich from the grocery store deli? Sure, bring it on. 

Not anymore.

Daisy has said that I've had digestive issues ever since she's known me, and I think that's mostly inaccurate. I have never had anything diagnosable, but the first five years we were together, my actual daily diet was total dogshit -- I did not have much discipline, I ate a lot of high-sodium, high-sugar, high-fat foods, with a lot of bread and a lot of calories, supplemented with enough caffeine and nicotine to kill a horse. As such, during those first five years I did have a lot of digestive problems -- problems that mostly cleared up once I stopped eating so much bread, went vegetarian, and greatly cleaned up my diet overall. 

I began to think I might have a gluten allergy or sensitivity that has developed over the course of the last several months -- new allergies can, of course, spontaneously pop up sometimes. Daisy's mother acquires 2-3 more new food allergies every year. I've never had an allergy to any foods that I'm aware of -- any foods. But, my theory about gluten was dashed when I had many gluten-containing foods -- such as noodles, bread, and pizza -- and it didn't trigger the screaming shits. At all.

I began to think I might have irritable bowel syndrome -- I did fit a number of the symptoms for it, but not most of them. To be fair I have a lot of questions about some of them. but I don't think that's the overall cause. Daisy, the incredibly intelligent woman that she is, pointed this out:




I haven't vomited and I haven't had any of the heart issues, but a lot of the stuff on that list, holy hell, it matches up with me. And I started the Trulicity about six months ago, give or take. I don't fart more on Trulicity, but I have found myself belching more (eructation). I was constipated for a weekend a few weeks ago. I always have fatigue and general weakness because I work overnights and barely sleep, so that's a wash, but yeeeeeah this drug that is so far working wonderfully to control my diabetes and lower my A1C like crazy may be what's making me sick.

How did Daisy figure this out? Deductive reasoning -- it seems to be more prevalent or severe in the 1-3 days after I give myself my weekly injection, something I never put two-and-two together on before. It may be something I just have to live with, which is somewhat depressing to think about, but if that's what it is, at least we now know why. 

I've been okay over the past few days, which also leads me to believe that's part of the culprit.


Saturday, December 2, 2023

The Holidays, Part VI: Crisis Mode

 (Days of work remaining before holiday time off: 12)

This will be a long one all, and is sort of traumatic, so buckle in. 

First of all, before we get into the really...traumatic stuff...

We did go to the parents' today and I was able to get about twenty random tapes. About half of them are unmarked, so they could either be home videos or stuff taped off television (or blank tapes), etc. We don't know. The other half are a few commercial movies I wanted to save, and a good chunk of family videos of one sort or another. Included in that is a tape with just Dad's name on it, a tape of Daisy's oldest sister's 6th grade graduation, a tape containing that same sister's modeling audition (from the 80s, so I'm sure that'll be interesting), a tape with Daisy's other sister's name on it and nothing else, and some other various tapes of various ages that I don't know what I'll find on them. Many of these tapes are over 30 years old and I don't know how deteriorated they are. Some could be great, some could be terrible/unplayable -- degraded past the point of no return. So really, time is of the essence to get this stuff transferred. 

Doing so may kill the tapes or kill the VCR, or both. It's a risk I'm willing to take just to try, honestly. It's worth it to try. This "archiving data" stuff is the shit I live for, honestly. I love unearthing things and examining them.

So, I came home and began running them through the VCR. I normally take my nap in the evening on Saturdays because, well, I have to reset my sleep schedule so that I can work on Sunday again. The longest tape, to my knowledge, was the second 9/11 tape I had made myself -- it was a full six hours. I put it on, made sure the tracking was as good as possible, ate dinner with Daisy, and then came back upstairs. It had about 3.5 hours to go, so I set an alarm on Alexa for three hours later and passed out in my chair.

An hour later, Daisy threw open the door of my room and called my name to wake me up. 

In her arms was Hank, who -- unlike most times -- was not trying to get away.

"Something's wrong with Hank," she said. "He's breathing funny."

"Bring him over here," I said. 

She did, and laid him on my chest. He did not struggle. He did not try to get away. He laid on my chest, looked at me with his big orange eyes, and was struggling to breathe -- little gasps, like a chest rattle in someone with bronchitis. He was purring a little, but he looked scared. And that, in turn, made me scared.

"I'm taking him to the emergency vet," Daisy said. "Keep him there, hold him while I get dressed."

I did. I put my hand on him and talked to him sweetly. He didn't try to move, he didn't try to get up. He looked at me, and then looked for Daisy when she left the room to get dressed to leave, but he seemed calm. His breathing was very labored, like he was trying to breathe through a snorkel. And he seemed...limper than usual. 

Five minutes later, Daisy was in the car with him in the cat carrier, on the way to the vet.

I was still half-asleep -- it is very hard for me to wake up completely if I've just fallen into a deep sleep -- and I was sort of out of it. But my worry about my smallest son forced my brain to awaken quickly, and for the next four hours Daisy texted me continual updates about our child.

When she got there, Hank was whisked away into the back rooms for observation. They put him in a high-oxygen room so he could breathe better, and said they wanted to do an x-ray, bloodwork, and the full gamut of exams. Daisy agreed to this, of course.

His x-ray showed that he had some fluid on his lungs (probable fluid, anyway) and what appeared to be an enlarged heart, which is a possible sign of heart disease in cats.

"He's seven months old," I said. "How could he have heart disease?"

Apparently it can present from six months forward, and 1-2% of kittens can have it.

This began a waiting period of hours while Daisy was shuffled around to multiple rooms -- waiting room, exam room, etc.  During this time we both ran through a number of worst-case scenarios in our heads -- Daisy has a shamrock in the front window, and apparently that can be toxic to cats, and he's been getting up in that window to tear shit up -- did he eat part of it? Did he have feline AIDS? That can present as respiratory illnesses and he's right at the age where it could start up, if so. What if he did have heart disease or congestive heart failure? How can that be treated? How long would his life expectancy be? The internet says anything between weeks and years.

In the vet's office, Daisy was spiraling. 

"If he dies, I'm not getting another cat," she told me.

At home, I was spiraling, and my heart rate was going up out of stress/worry. He's so young. What the hell could be wrong with him? Why would he have an enlarged heart? Did I do something wrong? Did I give him treats or food he's allergic to? What could have affected him?

I went downstairs to get a couple of bottles of water, and Pete looked at me very concerned. I gave him and the girls some pets and lots and told them everything was okay. Pete followed me back upstairs and stared at me, as if he was saying she took the orange child, dad. Why is the orange child gone?

The vets got back with Daisy and told her that he did not appear to have pneumonia or asthma, and while his heart was enlarged, it did not seem to be in distress. The bloodwork would have to tell us anything else, including whether heart disease and feline HIV (I can only assume) could be ruled out and taken off the table. 

I waited. I finished digitizing the 9/11 tape and moved on to a couple of other known family videos one after another. They were mostly short and I could get through each of them quickly. There was no way I was going to be able to take my nap -- it just wasn't happening now. 

Finally, Daisy got back to me. The bloodwork looked good with no real cause for concern. He did not have heart disease, but they did discern that by ruling everything else out, he did have some sort of respiratory infection, or similar infection, and they wanted to give him steroids and an antibiotic to see if that would knock it out.

They also wanted to know if Daisy wanted them to keep him overnight for observation, and finally brought her into the room to see him. They left her there with him in her arms for half an hour, during which Daisy said he held onto her tightly and was shedding like crazy due to the stress. He was still breathing in a labored fashion. She asked me if I thought he should stay the night for observation.

"Waaaaaaay more expensive," I told her. "[Daisy], if they're giving him steroids and antibiotics, he's likely just going to sleep through the night at home anyway. If he doesn't have any heart issues they can find, I'm guessing he'll be fine once the drugs kick in. If he's not, we can always bring him back."

This was a remarkably calm statement for me in a time of crisis, and I commend myself for it. I don't know how I did it.

"TBD," Daisy said. "If his breathing is still bad and It's under $200, I'm going to consider it."

"Understandable," I replied. 

"He's clinging to me," she said a few minutes later. "He doesn't want to stay. Plus, it's $2,000."

"Yeah, fuuuuuuuck that," I said. 

They took him back into the back room to administer the meds at this point -- which I was frankly shocked they hadn't done before -- and gave Daisy pills and a dropper bottle full of medicine we have to give him every twelve hours. Daisy paid the bill (I won't say what it was here, but it was substantial) and brought him home.

By the time he got home, he was once more breathing normally. He still looked tired and stressed, and as soon as we administered the first dose of the liquid antibiotics to him (he wasn't a fan of that), he explored the house and looked at everything like it was the first time he'd seen it. He ate food, he drank water, he used the pan, and I even took him upstairs to give him "the pattern" of me touching him while he ate some of his special dry food in the cat tree. He chased Pete around a bit, briefly played fetch with one of his toys, and for all intents and purposes seemed normal again. Per the x-ray, he is also now weighing in at 11.24 pounds -- bigger than the 10 pounds his normal vet expected him to weigh at his next appointment in July. 

Daisy pulled any "poisonous" plants out of the front window as a precaution and tried her best to seal off the area so he wouldn't try to get back up there anymore. The remaining plants are harmless to cats. The vets said that likely wasn't the issue anyhow, as that would present itself with a lot of vomiting, generally. 

We're going to have to watch his heart -- meaning, we'll need to get it checked every year at his normal vet appointments, which would be an extra step compared to just a normal check-up, but at least to us, his heart is a cause for concern.

Daisy was finally able to go to sleep around 3am, and my guess is that the orange lad followed her to bed as per the usual. 

I am still very concerned. If he starts wheezing again in the night and it doesn't wake up Daisy, we wouldn't know for hours. What if he has an episode when we're not around and just keels over? I'm terrified of waking up -- maybe not tomorrow, next week, or within the next year -- but eventually, and just finding him dead. I don't know what to do. He was fine until this evening, though he had admittedly been a sleepyhead most of the weekend -- we now know that was perhaps because he was feeling sick. It's very easy for me to become obsessive and start spiraling. He's such a sweet little boy and I'm so terrified of something being seriously wrong with him that I'm unable to prevent, fix, or really even treat.

Looks like December is starting off to be a banner month already.

Friday, December 1, 2023

The Holidays, Part V: No Empress

(Days of work remaining before holiday time off: 12)

After the last entry here, I feel the need to clarify a bit. 

I am not heartless -- there are many cats Daisy has wanted over the years that would not have been practical or ideal for many reasons. And, while she would likely disagree, I've not been an out-and-out "fuck no, and fuck off" asshole on most of them. But I'm very discerning, and a cat can fit the vibe check for her and not me, or me and not her, and that's fine. It has to be right, it has to be something we both want. We are, after all, adopting what amounts to a child.

There have been other circumstances too -- the apartment we rented for five years had a limit of two pets (we still had the three old farts, and just didn't tell them -- but it would have been very hard to hide a fourth in a place so small). We did adopt a fourth one time and it very quickly didn't work out and had to give him back, so that has cast a pall over our adoption thoughts for a very long time that was only really lifted by Hank. 

It is true over the years that there are cats that I absolutely wanted that Daisy had no interest in whatsoever, even after meeting them, because the vibes just weren't there for her -- and I wasn't going to fight her on it because she'd been in that situation before too. Other times, cost was a factor, stress was a factor, etc -- but most times if either of us have ever found a cat we've really liked and wanted, it's been very quickly adopted out from under our proverbial noses by someone else. 

That may have happened this time as well.

We expected the little black cat to be posted on the website or otherwise made available by tonight. She was not. We went to the shelter this evening to look around. She was not there. By the time we'd returned home, she'd been completely wiped off the "lost pets" section of the website, which is generally the "these are the cats that are going to be available for adoption in the next few days" because, well, it's basically the page that shows strays that were brought in. Hank was one of those, I'm sure.

She was gone off of any and all listings. We can only assume that she was either claimed, or (darkly) that when she was brought in, she was very sick and later died. We'll never know.

This...upsetted me more than I thought it would, really. 

"It wasn't meant to be," Daisy said, sadly.

I still checked the site multiple times just to see if they were in the middle of updates or something like that the first time we checked. Nothing. She is gone as if she never existed.

I have often said that with Hank, I was satisfied and that I did not want another cat. But this one, for some reason, hurts to lose -- and I never even got the chance to meet her. 

I might just be being emotional.

Anyway.

The VHS to PC video card cable arrived, and I very cautiously hooked up the VCR to try it out with the tapes I made from 9/11. Surprisingly, the VCR does still work normally, and the tapes -- while a bit degraded (22 years old, recorded off broadcast television, etc) work just fine -- a time capsule from a time this country faced its greatest crisis of my lifetime.

The first tape was digitized tonight, all six hours of it, to the tune of twenty-two gigabytes of video. But, for six hours of video...I don't really think that's too terrible. It is not great video, to be sure, but it IS video.

The next step of Christmas now goes into motion -- Daisy and her parents have a massive amount of tapes of home movies from the 80s and 90s, some of them events, some of them just around-the-house stuff apparently -- and my goal is to gather as many of them as possible to begin the digitizing process, put the digital videos on flash drives/portable hard drives, and then have that be Christmas gifts for the family. 

It is a very long, time-consuming process. It's a 1:1 transfer time -- meaning if the tape is six hours long, it has to play/record all the way through to get it digitized. It's not like you pop it in, press a button, and it's done in five minutes -- oh no. It's done in real time, baby. Which means if I want this stuff done for Christmas, I need to start now. It's December 1st; I have 24 days.

I do not, of course, have flash drives large enough to do this yet. My own backup portable HDD is only 500GB and is close to a decade old, and is what I use to make backups of my PC's files -- once every 2-3 weeks, in the event that I have another catastrophic computer failure. I have another 500GB portable HDD that I use for all of my music -- all of the albums I ripped during the pandemic while I was buying random batches of CDs off eBay, as well as all music I've purchased or downloaded over the course of the past twenty-plus years. But obviously, if I want to get this stuff off my PC once it's all converted, I'll need something easy and something cheap -- some $12, 128GB flash drives off Amazon are likely the solution, but I'll need to order those. Today is payday, finally, so we'll see what I can do. After all, I have to get the tapes first, and the VCR has to keep working long enough to get everything off them.

Thursday, November 30, 2023

The Holidays, Part IV: Searching for Empress

 (Days of work remaining before holiday time off: 13)

It is the last day of November. Any sort of pretenses about it "not yet being the holiday season" ends at midnight tonight, as once December hits, nobody can deny that the holidays are now upon us. November 30th means the end of Pumpkin Spice Season and the beginning of Peppermint Mocha Latte season.

I mean, figuratively anyway.

I neglected to mention in my last entry here that sometime over those many days off, I'd like to take some hours or the majority of a day to focus on my writing. My actual writing, not what I put up here that probably less than ten people read during any given six-month time span. I've been trying to work on the book for years now, and when I have the time to do it, that time is always filled with something else that needs to be done, somewhere else to be, or (more frequently than not) I'm too tired to focus and need sleep. So, doing some writing during that time will likely do me some good.

I have been very tired this week, and really unable to get true quality sleep. It's not that I don't sleep, but I don't really count passing out in my lounge chair half an hour after I get off work in the morning and then sometimes, but not always, moving to the bed later in the day to sleep somewhat fitfully as "quality." I mean I want the sleep of the dead, where I can lie motionless in a dark room with the cats for twelve hours and actually feel somewhat reinvigorated when I awaken -- and that's not something I can ever really do anymore. I might be able to get that, somewhat and occasionally, when I have my time off -- but I can't count on that as a certainty. I can't do it during the work week, and if I do it during a weekend it sacrifices large amounts of time I'd otherwise be spending with Daisy. 

This was not helped by Daisy -- who worked from home today, I might add -- waking me up at noon telling me to call her.

Call her? She was home.

Well, she wasn't. She was at the humane society the second they opened because there was a cat there that she'd fallen in love with. That cat was not a cat I was interested in, but one I thought was cute. She wanted to send me videos. This cat wanted to love her, wanted to sit on her chest and shoulders and lick her lips and up her nose like Hank did when he was a baby (okay, well, he still makes out with Daisy every day, he's a weirdo). 

I...did not approve. 

Look, I have my reasons, we'll get to that in a bit.

Daisy was of the mindset that she was going to come home with this cat whether I approved or not -- she later told me that she hadn't had vibes like this for a cat ever before, with the exception of Hank -- the strongest vibes she'd ever gotten from any cats she'd ever looked at in the humane society.

She was in line to adopt her when the lady in front of her said she wanted to adopt not only that cat, but the one in the cage with her, together. The humane society is first-come, first serve. Daisy was heartbroken. 

I did not have a hand in any of this -- meaning that regardless of whether I gave my approval of not, Daisy still would not have been able to bring that cat home. That's how it goes sometimes in the first-come, first serve system -- it's why we were there waiting in line long before the humane society opened the day that we got Hank, because we knew we wanted him and knew if we were the first people there, we'd very likely get him, and we did. 



And he has a very happy life, as you can see.


But this time just wasn't in the cards for Daisy. There have been a few cats we've missed out on (not that we're particularly really looking at the moment most of the time, with few exceptions -- I'll get to that) because they've either been very swiftly adopted or they've been moved to local PetSmart stores where they've also been very swiftly adopted out same-day. There are a lot of cats in this town and there are also apparently a lot of "cat fans," like ourselves, who hover over the humane society's website and wait for their dream cat(s) to be posted. 

I have long said that I don't want any more cats at the moment -- with one exception. Our next kitten (it must be a kitten, so she can be raised/conditioned properly in our household) as I told Daisy, will be a long-haired, black (or otherwise dark) female, preferably one who will become huge, with a very loving, cuddly, teddy-bear personality who wants all the love, and her name will be Empress. 

I have had this dream for a long time, and I am somewhat particular about all of the details. I don't care if she's black -- I prefer it, of course, but I'd be fine with a tortie or a brown tabby. The two big things for me are long hair, potential for large size, and the proper personality. She can be the most beautiful cat in the world, but if the vibe check isn't there and I don't think she'd get along well with the old farts and Hank, it's a no for me. Not being mean, just being discerning out of concern for her as well as for our current children.

We've had several candidates pop up over the past six months or so, of all different colors and, well, breeds, I guess. There was a very sweet male named Ghost who fit the bill, but he wasn't a little girl. There was a very sweet gray-blue female who liked most attention, but hated the other cats around her in the shelter and wanted to hide -- yeah, I don't need another Sadie, I already have one of those. Daisy herself has seen a few kittens that she thought may or may not make good candidates, but either I didn't feel the vibe looking at them or I had a very strong "that's not my Empress" feeling.

I told Daisy months ago that she didn't have to get me anything for Christmas, but if Empress magically showed up on the website or otherwise we were able to find this elusive cat of my dreams, she could be my present.

Well....




Last week, this cat showed up in the "lost and found" pets section of the website.

She is a long-haired female, approximately 8 weeks old, who was found on the streets as a stray and was brought to the shelter. The shelter will hold onto these cats for a bit to see if anyone claims them before they're spayed/neutered, cleaned up and any medical issues are taken care of (including fleas, parasites, etc) and then they're put into the adoption pool a day or two later once they've recovered. 

Look at that little bow tie!

Ahem.

This little girl was fixed on Wednesday and was not available tonight (we checked -- we actually went to the humane society again once Daisy was off work to see if she was in the holding kennels to get a vibe check). She was not there yet. The expectation was that she'd be put into the holding kennels for viewing on Friday night and likely made available for adoption on Saturday morning once the place opened. 

We absolutely plan to go back tomorrow night to see if she's there. She checks many boxes for me right off the bat. We won't be able to like, touch her or interact with her, likely, but we can view her personality and see if she seems like a good fit -- and then if we have the right vibes, or even a hint of them, we can be there when they open on Saturday morning and make our decisions at that juncture.

I'm so excited.