Ice Cream, the Best Medicine

I was anxious to hear the daily report on my Dad's evolving condition yesterday. My Mom kindly called me around dinner time and filled me in. For the first day he ate, and that was welcome news. And he ate well, so the medical staff removed his feeding tube.

When I was in the hospital I asked the doctor what I have to do to get out of here.

"You have to eat. You have to pee. You have to poop. And you have to get up and walk around," the doctor told me.

I set out to meet those requirements as quickly as possible.

Now my Dad is on the same mission. It's good to know that the first step, eating, has been crossed off the list.

According to my Mom, they presented him with some pretty good looking roast beef, mashed potatoes and green beans.

Now my Dad is not real fond of green vegetables. "They all taste like grass," he has always said. I don't know where my Dad was eating so much grass, but that's his story.

When my Dad saw the green beans he said, "Green beans? Why do they always serve green beans?"

Then he ate all of the roast beef, all of the mashed potatoes, and all of the green beans, according to my Mom.

To top things off, my Dad ate all of his ice cream too. But that's not surprising. My Dad loves his ice cream. As he's always said, "There's always room for ice cream. It fills in the cracks."

We were thrilled to hear the good news about my Dad. He's on a long road back. But small steps forward is what it will take.

But outside of that good news it was an exhausting day yesterday. I woke up on a mission to get two coats of primer up in our second living room. With Barb's help brushing the edges that I couldn't reach with the roller, we got the job done. It was a long and tiring day for me. A hot shower and a hot meal felt very good at the end of yesterday.

But that wasn't the only trial of the day. Somewhere in the middle of the day our dryer decided to give up. Of course that is only discovered after you have a load of wet laundry ready for the dryer. So we're scrambling to try to get a replacement dryer in here today. That was decided after a round of phone calls revealed that getting this one fixed would likely cost as much, or more, than a new one.

And to top the day off, I had the pleasure of interacting with some of the local delinquint teenagers.

Every town has a group of young teenagers who just hang out on the street, hold up street signs, and are generally loud, boorish and obnoxious. Marietta is no exception. And right in front of our house for some reason seems to be a favorite spot.

Every year we get a new group of delinquints as last years' group earns their drivers' licenses and starts to drive around rather than hang out on the street.

Now I really don't understand the appeal of hanging out on the street, and never have. There are so many more interesting things to do, and plenty here in Marietta. There's all kinds of sports opportunities. The river is right here for fishing and boating. We have great trails along the river and up Chiques Rock into the state park. There are parks and playgrounds. All kinds of things.

But last night there they were, girls and boys around 14-years old, hanging out right in front of our house. The vulgarities were flying. They were shouting and noisey. To my shock one young girl was rehearsing a stripper's routine with a parking meter in front of our house.

I thought to myself, "Where are there parents?"

First I opened the blinds and stood right at the window to let them know I was watching. I figured maybe that would embarass them to know that an adult was standing right there. Nope. That just egged them on more. The young stripper impersonator laughed and then pretended to moon me.

I know from talking to our neighbors that this group had become a problem in recent weeks. They were frightening older people off the streets, and hurting businesses. We were told that there had already been complaints to the local police.

About a week or so ago, someone had moved one of our heavy planters out front right in front of our front door so it was difficult, nearly impossible, for us to get out that door. I suspect our local bunch of troublemakers. It was such an immature act, who else could it be?

I had enough.

I stepped out front, much to their surprise, and asked them to break it up and move along. "There's no loitering in Marietta," I told them. "Either you leave or I'll call the police."

One secret weapon I've always had is I can look pretty darn big and scarey. I don't think they were expecting to see a 6'4" 200-pound guy come out of the house with a scowl a half-a-block wide.

They instantly scattered.

But not without their parting shots. I was just closing the door when one young punk decided to call me a part of the body that is most often sit upon. I opened the door again and just stared him down. He went white, cowered across the street, and waited in fear for my next move.

Barb had enough and called the police. I closed the door and the front blinds and watched as they all scattered away. Five minutes later we saw the police cruiser do a couple laps around the business district of Marietta.

They'll be back. We'll be here.

I told Barb that next time I may just accidentally dump a bucket of mop water out the second floor window.

Actually I should buy a soccer ball and drive them all out to the soccer field.

Next time, I will be seeking out their parents.

Too much unnecessary drama. I've got a dryer to buy and painting to finish.

Well just about anything is more important than having to deal with the local teenage delinquints.