Microwave science and the Big Easy

Last Sunday, my two staff members (my sister, K and employee/friend, A) loaded up the Expedition for a trip to New Orleans. The road trip would take about 16 hours each way, so they decided to start it off with a bang - by writing cute slogans about our clients on the back and sides of the truck to amuse passing motorists. We discovered that people who drive Prius' LOVE microwave science. Also, several truckers got a kick out of Maxwell's equation. Who knew?

Many hours later, we found ourselves having dinner in Newnan, GA. The waitresses all welcomed us with a resounding "Haaayyyyy!" each time we'd enter from our outdoor table to use the restroom. We stopped for the night in beautiful Greenville, AL, which boasted two empty drug stores, a WinDixie that didn't open until 10 a.m. on Mondays, the world's smallest WalMart and a white shack with a sign that said it was Bush's headquarters. Not surprising in the least. We frequently giggled at the names of the local Alabama sites... Shorter, Pine Apple (two words), as well as the "famous" Hank Williams shrine and, of course, roadkill armadillos. Sadly, the armadillos were the most exciting thing to see during that long stretch.

The second day on the road went quickly, and we were surprised to find ourselves amidst the devastation of Hurricane Katrina so far from New Orleans. The Mississippi coastline was littered with demolished warehouses, uninhabitable apartment complexes, still-tarped single family homes and what looked like grave yards of concrete slabs that used to support houses. I had heard of the destruction, realized we may see some of the aftermath, but never in a million years expected to see the level of devastation... especially three years after the hurricane had hit the area.

The destruction continued well into New Orleans, until we found ourselves close to the French Quarter, which had been spared from the storm's destruction, but was worse for the wear. A block from our hotel we observed pimps and prostitutes, looted storefronts, empty-eyed homeless and barely-standing low-cost housing. From the point where our hotel started (Bourbon/Canal/Iberville block), the area seemed to look more-or-less as I remembered it... dirty, colorful, smelly, loud and full of excitement. We dropped off our bags and headed into the Quarter, where I was dismayed to see teenage girls clustered outside of "gentlemen's" (ha!) clubs in broad daylight, barely clad, and even more disheartened to see some so clearly lost to this world. By the end of Bourbon Street I had thought the city was no longer worth a visit, but as we turned onto Royal Street, my heart began to patter with excitement at seeing my favorite artists' galleries still present, the smell of Cajun foods and the sights and sounds of one of the US's oldest and most authentic cities. Man, I love New Orleans.

We stopped by the Riverwalk for a hurricane and some fried onions and chatted with a local bartender who had lived all her life in New Orleans. When the hurricane hit, her family had invested 20 years of their 30-year mortgage into their home. They had flood insurance, thoughmost of her neighborhood did not as they were close to a levy (deemed by FEMA as safe, thus removing the requirement for homeowners insurers in the area to require flood coverage). The flood coverage paid out the last 10 years of her mortgage. Twenty years of investment, along with all personal valuables and belongings, were lost. And she felt like she was one of the lucky ones. They rebuilt, and stayed. Most of her neighborhood left, and she didn't think they'd ever be back. It made me stop for a moment, and thank my lucky stars for all I have.

The next day we woke early and scurried about getting ready for the symposium, board meetings and other "real" reasons we were there. By three we were free again for a few hours, and jumped aboard the St Charles trolley to the Garden District and Magazine. K and A were mesmerized by the overwhelming smells of jasmine and roses and the towering, century old crepe myrtles and twisted magnolias that hung over the streets. We enjoyed peeping into the gardens of the antebellum mansions and perused the LaFayette Cemetary #1 to check out the infamous above-ground vaults of the long-dead. On Magazine we found a Mexican dive and imbibed in a margarita and taco salad before heading back to get ready for an evening of riveting discussion at a board meeting for our microwave science group. The meeting was held at the Red Fish Grill, which was pretty good, but overly loud, slow and boasting obnoxious waiters who called you "sweetie" and "dear" while bustling about doing everything in the world to avoid actual service of the customers.

On Wednesday our conference started, and we enjoyed catching up with our favorite international scientists, technical sales folks and other greats in the field of electromagnetic energy. We developed a few new nicknames (our favorite pastime at these events) for some newly introduced characters (Cookie Monster, Dracula, the Mercenary, Milton), as well as some who had not yet been inducted into our nickname hall of fame (McGyver, Romanian Thong-Slinger, Dirty FrenchMan)... all while lamenting those that were missing this year from our list of favorites (WonkEye, YaccoBlech and BigHead).

Thursday brought another breathtaking day of discoveries in microwave energy applications, followed by an even more exciting private dinner cruise on the Mississippi River. I made the mistake of feeling sorry for K and A's lack of New Orleans experiences in the trip thus far, and let them off the hook from the event so that they could find their own trouble in the Quarter while I herded about two dozen scientists, researchers and their wives and children down the winding streets to the river. I laughed aloud at the thought of the blog entry I had hoped to write that night, devoted strictly to directing the group through five blocks. Herding cats, indeed. The group, however, were even more conversationally challenged than I could have imagined, and I was exhausted by the mental anguish I'd suffered during my four hours aboard the smoky, creaking boat and went straight to bed. Not to mention the stuff they tried to serve on board that they called a "Creole feast." I ate nothing but white rice and a roll. That good.

Friday was the last day of our event, and I had the girls packing before noon so that we could make an escape the minute the conference wrapped up. During our closing reception, I invited an acquaintance to join us for dinner, Dirty Frenchman overheard and invited himself, and then we decided to invite one more to make it an even number. We rushed to close the exhibit area, pack and get ready for our one night on the town. We wandered through the Quarter until our dinner reservations, which were set at 9:30 p.m. at Emerill LaGasse's NoLa restaurant. THAT was worth eating a week's worth of steamboat cruise crap to have. I had the shrimp and grits, and it was to DIE for.

Our company for the night was beyond entertaining. Our party was something one would use to begin a joke... "Three American girls went out with an Italian, a Canadian Frenchman and a guy from Omaha for dinner...". The Italian introduced us to the finer points of grappe (I could find no finer points, but was introduced none the less), and we enjoyed a stimulating conversation that covered everything taboo in normal gatherings - from religion to politics (I found this week that Europeans are enthralled with current US politics) to music to, well, we covered it all before being booted from the restaurant at midnight. We found ourselves wandering the streets of the Quarter the rest of the night, taking in some jazz and blues, and finally landed at our hotel's courtyard pool (where the Romanian thong-flinger made her debut). We were all sad when we finally had to call it quits at 5:30 a.m. to hit our beds for a few hours sleep before heading out the next morning on our respective return trips home. I can't remember the last time I've had so much fun - it's been at least a few years.


The next morning K, A and I loaded up the truck and headed out of the city. I was a bit worse for the wear that morning and drifted in and out of consciousness in back until we hit Alabama. The rest of our day was a lot of fun as we discussed and rediscussed our previous night, the new characters in our "play" and the sights, sounds and smells from their first trip to the Big Easy. In Atlanta we hit a major traffic jam, but we thoroughly enjoyed it as we blasted Neal Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" (much to the amusement of local Hotlantans), took pictures of a General Lee replica on I-85 and developed television plots based upon our new "characters" (e.g. The Microwave Mafia, Electromagnetic Survivor (6 microwave scientists stuck in a lab with no way out), and The Ultimate Warrior). We spent the night on the border of Georgia and South Carolina and found a real-live drivethru that the local teens actually hung out at. All in all, a good day of travel.

I wish I could say yesterday was as exciting, but we were done. We'd had all the fun we could possibly squeeze out of a scientific conference, Mad Libs and 20-Questions, and drove most of the remainder of the way in silence, trying to find a decent radio station since the CD player burned out in the truck. We were back home at 8 p.m. and K and A departed before the truck was even in Park. I was thrilled, however, to get back to my kids, both human and furry.

Next up... Japan. I'm excited, especially knowing now that some of my favorite characters from last week will be there (Romanian Thong-Slinger, Cookie Monster and more!).

On a side note, check out these awesome digs in Richmond for rent... what a bargain.

From My Sister...

My sister Kerinda wrote this, and I wanted to share a portion here. Thanks, Kerinda, for sharing the experience from your perspective!

I entered this world as Kim's 9lb 1oz, broken collared, colicky screaming little sister. Life for us began in a very different way, and I’m told that I made it my mission to make sure everyone around me knew that it was different and exactly what I thought about it. We grew and before I could blink, she was getting married and starting a life of her own. I was soon flew the nest and was out on my own when I was 19. At 20, I became an aunt. Being single and very naïve, I was amazed at the miracle of birth, the tiny life that I held in my arms, and the absolute wonder of my infant niece Katie. She was gorgeous. She was so cute, little and incredibly snugly. I blinked again and she was 2, another blink and she was 3. I was so lucky to live near by and hardly miss a day and I didn’t think a more perfect child existed.

Then Sadie arrived. It was the scariest phone call I ever received, fearing for not only my sister- my soul- but more so for her baby. It was so fast, all the phone calls, not being able to leave and go to the hospital when I wanted, updates not soon enough, constantly worried, I couldn’t seem to calm down.

When I finally got to the hospital, my heart sank to the center of the earth at the sight of her. Cords looked to be thrown on top of her like snakes on Medusa’s head; they were everywhere. There wasn’t a spot on her that didn’t have a tube, a band aid or a monitoring patch. My sister looked fatigued but somehow determined; more so than I had ever seen any human being. I felt so angry, scared and mostly confused as to what was actually happening.

Then there was the night I got to stay with her alone. Weeks into this nightmare, my sister and brother-in-law were exhausted and desperately needed a break, and it was their Katie's 4th birthday. I felt my heart leap when they asked ME to stay for the night.

The first few hours were okay. I watched the nurses come in and out, checking monitors, fidgeting with tubes, squeezing bags, and fuss over the amount of hair this baby had. I tried to memorize everything in the room and read each monitor and guess at its function- but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Sadie too long. Every breath brought hope. Every delayed breath brought irrational fear.

Late into the evening, an IV had slipped out of one of her hair-width veins and formed a huge, fluid-filled blister. God I was mad. How did this happen? It’s not like she’s moving all around to have this “pop” out- she was pretty much comatose. Where’s the nurse!? Where’s the nurse that initially put this in to begin with? Lights flooded the room, machines started beeping louder and louder and there seemed to be a sea of white jackets in a 10x10 foot room. Then came the most terrifying noise I’ve ever heard. A long constant steady beep.

The next sound was silence.Every pore on my body seemed to be on fire. My eyes were dry from not blinking. This was a dream or I, myself, had died and this was hell or purgatory or something worse.

Sadie's screams broke the silence and I realized that no silence had ever taken place and I had unknowingly blocked any noise I heard after that one, steady, long beep. She was breathing. The nurses were still trying to “find a vein.” I got annoyed and wanted to intercept and help so badly. Three of the nurses left and there were three continued to hover.

Getting the nerve to look down- expecting to see something completely alien to my eyes, I saw Sadie was red and blue with rage. She was kicking and fighting them so hard. How this little baby, on all those drugs, was capable of even crying was beyond my knowledge. Two nurses were having to holding her down. It seemed so savage. In shock, I found a pacifier and touched her sweat-soaked head and began to talk to her. I told her how proud I was of her, how I would always look to her as my strength, my hope and would look fear in the face- just as she was then. But I was still getting so upset and I was desperate trying hold back my emotions to keep my voice strong and steady.

Two of the nurses had been switching places from holding to “finding” and both were overcome by this seemingly endless search. They stopped for a second, and I kept talking. She seemed to be calming down. At least she wasn’t purple with rage at the moment.

The IV still had to be put in. The inside of her tiny thighs, the top and bottom of her feet had been stabbed endlessly without luck. It looked like she was getting used to the pain.... and I finally started to freak out a little. The nurses were frantically looking at the monitors and I could see from their expressions that it was crucial to have this needle find a vein.

Then I heard them say that they wanted me to help. ME. I was asked to help hold her down, keeping her pacifier in her mouth and her arm from knocking out a different, perilous looking IV. Having lost track of the number of times they stabbed her before, I started the count again.
Three pokes later, the room began to calm and the drone of the steady beeps were welcomed again.

I felt ill but didn’t allow the thought to remain in my head for long. I had no complaints to bring to the table. In fact, I didn’t have a single thing in my entire life remotely comparable even to the last 30 minutes Sadie had fought through.

The rest of the evening was mostly, thankfully, uneventful. I couldn’t stop staring at her, watching her freshly cut skin beat from the thump of her determined heart.

Days later she went home and the drug withdrawals came along for the ride. The rest of the family was settling in, but exhausted. Screaming filled their heads, their house, their cul-de-sac and what seemed to be all of Central Virginia. Day in and day out there seemed to be no rest for Sadie's family. Swaddling and rocking and bouncing were what occasionally settled the savage beast-child. Dark circles found the best place to reside and quickly settled onto three faces. Katie was tired, somewhat jealous, but mainly the greatest big sister. She’d get close to Sadie in her swing and tell her it’s was ok, and how much she loved her. Kim and Jason were overcome with exhaustion and work-related stress. I tried to offer my help and the one or two nights that I relieved them, I was shocked how Kim, Jason and Katie had adapted and adjusted to that sort of hectic lifestyle. Weeks later the withdrawals subsided and Sadie's personality emerged.

Now Sadie is into EVERYTHING. I my job at an optometrist's office and started work for Kim’s business, and was around the girls every day. Katie is growing like a wild fire and Sadie’s scream has become a well practiced, banshee-like siren noise. It's great. I can’t turn my back for 10 seconds. No- I seriously, literally mean 10 seconds. Crawling was fun... but then the walking thing happened (UGH). And if that wasn’t fun enough, teeth grew into the fun zone. Yea! Of course it couldn’t be one at a time, but 1000 at a time instead!

As they grow, so do their personalities. Goodie for me – I have Katie, who wants constant attention, but even better that I have Sadie biting me and shoving Katie to have me to her self. She makes it very clear that I am her beef jerky and NOT Katie’s. It’s an endless war.

Everyday I spend time with the kids, and everyday I learn something new. Sadie is a spit fire. If I wasn’t in love with her Tin Man “icon,” that we've chosen to represent her, I’d somehow incorporate spit and fire into the next tattoo I get.

Katie is a total mush-ball. It’s hilarious to watch her freak out and “awwww” over a dead moth. But her in-tune nature makes me daydream that she will become a veterinarian. We all have decided that Sadie will be some sort of extreme sport junkie, as she loves to play "stick the hand in the pitbull/German-shepard’s mouth" and stand on chairs. (Wise investment Kim and Jason… “but noooo, Katie wanted a puppy”!!)

It’s a never ending, extravagantly fun, fast paced house hold. Need a heart attack? Come on by for a visit!

I took the Katie and Sadie to the Dollar Store recently to buy a ton of crap that Kim will later scold and swear me for. Then I took them to the park, only for Sadie to immediately pick up handfuls of mulch and offer them to anyone within toddling distance. Katie found a friend in about .00000019 seconds and I had to laugh at them needing to scream- just because. When it was time to leave and I was putting Sadie into her car seat when she decided that “anytime’s a great time to throw a fit.” Full-fledged, screaming tantrum. Not being the Mom, I don’t smack, but often have a little “Kerinda-devil” pop onto my left shoulder and say “Go ahead, one little POP on the butt would do her good. I won’t tell!” Instead I simply smile and look at her and say “Aren’t you glad that you’re not MY kid?”

I got them home and made a bottle for Sadie to go down for a nap. She threw herself on the floor beside me, screaming, then pulled at my jeans and found the right spot to bite as she decided that I wasn’t paying enough attention to her. *Ouch.* I finally got her into the rocking chair with a bottle. Katie ran into Sadie’s room just to tell me that she loved me. She left the room and Sadie and I settled again.

Before Sadie took the bottle, she looked at me and said “Ni-nah,” her name for me. I thought to my self that I was so lucky to live near by and hardly miss a day and I didn’t think a more perfect child existed.