BAD MOJO

This past weekend had all the trappings of a relaxing, fun-filled escape from the toils of the labor force; Thursday night was Valentine’s Day, I had a four day break from the office, and Landon was set to turn four-years old on Sunday. What could go wrong? It turns out I somehow managed to lasso a dark cloud that has followed me since, and because of the shadow an increasing surge of bad luck has loomed over my shoulder. What follows is a painful recounting.

Thursday night was Valentine’s Day, however the strains of the work week and the care of our two sons had left Rhiannon and I exhausted. We anxiously dusted off our snowboarding gear in preparation of a rare trip to the mountains scheduled for early the next morning. It was going to be Rena’s first time on a snowboard in nearly five years. We fell asleep a little after nine o’clock, without even exchanging cards, oh well, we had an extended weekend ahead of us.

Friday morning the sun lit the sky as my parents arrived in our driveway, my Dad would be joining us on the slopes, while my Mom stayed behind to entertain her grandsons. It had rained locally the night before, and the San Bernadino Mountains had received a few fresh inches of snow. The day was looking perfect. Because of posted road closures to any cars not carrying chains we opted to take my Dad’s old Camry up the hill since neither of our cars have the required snow gear (although the Pilot does have four-wheel drive). I jumped behind the wheel and we were off. Not fifteen minutes into the drive we noticed that the car was running a little hot. We shrugged it off to the toll road hills and I eased back on the gas pedal. We hit the northeastern freeway and watched the engine temperature continue to climb. When we slowed due to some traffic the gauge continued to creep upward. The needle hung just below the bright red top of the scale. By the time we reached San Bernadino and the base of the mountains we decided that we had better stop to investigate, maybe a quick trip to the local dealership could have this problem analyzed and solved and we could be back on the road.

That turned out to be a bad call. An hour later we still sat in the waiting room, no progress on our wounded vehicle to report, we instead decided to salvage what was left of the day and head back home after all agreeing that we had zero confidence in the Camry climbing to an elevation over 6,000 feet without a repair. So we gently pointed the car south, and begrudgingly headed home without feeling the refreshing splash of fresh snow across our face. At least we still had the rest of the weekend ahead of us.

After returning to Rancho without having the car completely break down, I made a few phone calls, borrowed a truck, and headed south to San Diego with my parents with the dual purpose of ensuring that they were able to get the Camry to their local mechanic, and to secondly pick up a dining room table that had sat in storage for nearly two years. The table used to hold a place of prominence in my grandparent’s home, and so now it would migrate into our dining room ready for more memories to be shard across it. In general the transport was uneventful, the table reached its new destination, but my eyes continued to drift to the snow capped local mountains that dominated the horizon on the clear winter day. We found out later that the roads were open that morning and didn’t require chains after all.

That night Rhiannon and I exchanged Valentine’s gifts, which was nice, we shared a good meal and some memories, we watched a video of our wedding that I had converted to dvd. By the time we drifted off to sleep though Rhiannon wasn’t feeling great, and by the next morning she was plagued by the stomach flu, or food poisoning, or something that left her weak, and often curled up either on the bathroom floor or in the fetal position in bed. So I essentially was left in charge of three individuals for the rest of the day.

That afternoon while Rhiannon and Colt napped, Landon and I snuck away to the local trout stream for a little exploring. Without a doubt this was to be the highlight of the weekend. Landon had never been to the creek before and we both laughed and talked our way over the bumpy dirt road. We hiked around the creek, threw rocks and floated a few flies, I hooked a trout, we shared Gatorade, trail mix and smiles. Landon asked when we could come back and took a walking stick home as a souvenir. Other than a few pictures and memories, my only trinket that I took home with me was some poison oak. Luckily Landon was spared this infection. Saturday night was quiet, and we all went to bed early to prepare for the following day – Landon’s fourth birthday.

We awoke early, and Landon and I headed out for some donuts and juice smoothies. The donuts were good, the juice place was closed. Next stop was the Irvine Amtrak station for a trip down the coast for some lunch followed by a return trip on a real, full size diesel. Any illusion that Landon and Colt had lost interest in trains was shattered the instant we arrived at the train station – they were pumped. Only problem was that some depressed soul decided that it was a good morning to jump in front of a locomotive somewhere down the line, so all trains were delayed several hours to investigate and clean up this ‘incident’. The boys were saddened and confused, they obviously didn’t understand why their highly anticipated train ride had been cancelled.

In an attempt to salvage the morning we headed over to the Irvine Spectrum mall aware that they had a small train ride and a store stocked with toy trains. Good plan we thought, until we arrived and realized that the mall wouldn’t be open for another hour. We threw pennies in fountains until our pockets were emptied and then finally rode the little train and grabbed some food. We headed back home with plans to recharge with an afternoon nap and possibly another attempt to ride the railway that evening.

I had an indoor soccer game scheduled that afternoon that initially I had written off due to the day’s schedule, but with the change of plans I was able to attend. Five minutes into the game my left foot got hit from behind and rolled over its outside, I was pretty sure I had at least sprained it, but after walking around the sidelines I limped back onto the field determined to help my team to victory. Not too much later I scored a goal and was boarded roughly by the keeper. I lightly pushed the back of his head and told him to settle down, this was after all just a recreational community league and not the World Cup. Its probably also fair to recant that this keeper outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds. He quickly turned and threw a sloppy punch in my direction which thankfully missed. I laughed and told him to take it easy. He yelled and swung again, and again. I defended myself in disbelief, not throwing punches, just determinedly blocking his. Eventually he wrestled me into the boards at which point the rest of the players on the field removed him from my back. Somehow I emerged unscathed. I continued to limp around, scored another goal, and our team won 6 – 5.

After returning home I iced my injured appendage and watched as my foot continued to swell. By the time everyone woke up and got dressed we decided a trip to the local diner, where trains looped around the ceiling on tracks, might be an easier destination for my foot. We returned home, Landon blew out his four candles and we shared some cake. Landon opened his presents (more trains) and begged to play with them for a few minutes before he went to bed. His parents of course obliged, it was the least we could do considering how badly his birthday plans had floundered. We went to bed hoping to salvage what was left of the weekend with a trip to Disneyland the following morning.

When I attempted to step out of bed the next day a jolt of pain alerted me to the fact that my foot was still swollen and now also black and blue. So instead of the happiest place on earth, I headed off to our doctor’s office. Upon arriving I was directed to an urgent care facility across town because the doctor and his associates were all booked for the day. I waited at urgent care, I waited at the radiologist, and then I waited at the urgent care some more. Eventually I left with a pair of crutches, a walking boot, and a broken foot. The weekend (what was left of it) and the impending six weeks were all officially cancelled.

Aside from the trip to the local creek, nothing this weekend went well, and even the hiking trip came tainted with poison oak. I’m struggling to remember a worse stretch of bad luck that I have waded through – ever. And I can’t come up with one. Bad things happen all the time, and really none of the events from the past weekend were that tragic. The calamity and desperation revolve around the fact that for four days straight essentially nothing went right. I was actually relieved to get back to work on Tuesday.

Ugh.

Note: Aside from this past weekend things are going well for the Buhr clan (except for the potential layoffs facing our State due to predicted budget cuts). Both boys are growing and learning and laughing, and Rhiannon hasn’t left me yet. Dakota still wags her tail. Next weekend is the boy’s shared birthday extravaganza; I pledge to return here with a fitting summary of both the party and our lives from the past 2 months.