The Macchu

Enjoying the photo feature... this is me at Macchu Pichu last year.

Good Times On Cliffs

This is us on the California coast.

Better

She's out of ICU and will be going home with her parents for a bit. I need some sleep.

Buckling

For the last couple days I've been at Central DuPage Hospital in Illinois. Jackie is in the ICU there. Her family and friends have swarmed to her side. She's scared and exhausted, but doing well. She became dehydrated, which led to her developing some blood clots in her brain. Her weeklong headache transitioned to confusion and problems speaking. Her sisters got her to the hospital without much time to spare. Her family are gracious, caring and sweet.

I'm writing this from my kitchen table at The Compound, drinking a coffee and getting my head together. I've made arrangements for the hound for the next few days.

I'm usually pretty good at buckling my emotions down, which Jackie says is sometimes a downside, something I need to work on. I don't want to get her upset. She needs to rest.

I wasn't this scared jumping out of a plane. I wasn't this scared looking down cliffsides in Peru. I wasn't this scared being driven to a desolate part of Delhi in the middle of the night.

I'm going to sit here for a while and get my head together. Then I'm going back to the hospital.

Good Neighbors, Good Fences, Etc

So, I have new neighbors. They live in the house that is back, to the left. They've been there about six weeks. Three little kids and an older lady. And sometimes a guy. And sometimes some other woman. And a lot of yelling and screaming.

Now, I don't find the sound of little kids carrying on, being little kids, disagreeable. I do find the sound of children screaming in mortal terror to be a call to action.

Yesterday I got home and laid down on my bed to relax for a moment. Jackie came in and laid down. We listened to the neighbor lady screaming in anger and children screaming in reply. Jackie said this had been going on, on and off for parts of the afternoon. Most of their words were unintelligible, but the tone was not mistakeable. I dithered for several minutes. The yelling continued. I got up, exited my backdoor, walked across the neighbor's lawn, and banged on their door. A dishevelled and remarkably subdued and meek woman answered the door.

K-I've been hearing screaming for the last half hour coming from your house. Is everyone OK, because it doesn't sound like it.
L-Well, my son disobeys and he... he yells sometimes.
K-I'm hearing you screaming. You need to stop screaming. I don't want to hear it. Whatever you're doing, you need to stop screaming. OK? I don't want to have this conversation again, OK?

I formally accepted her grunt as acknowledgement of our verbal contract: She will cease screaming, I will cease visiting. We'll see.