That time I fell through the attic

Oh yeah, about that time I fell through the attic.

It's sort of amusing and makes me look like an idiot, so I thought I'd share it with the world!

This happened two years ago I think? As I've mentioned, I'm an avid reader and there isn't enough shelf space for all my books in the house, so we keep several boxes of books in the attic above our garage. I always wait until Betsy's out of the house to do risky things because I know she'll just say, "You know you'll just fall and hurt yourself, dummy!!!" So one morning, while my wife was at work, I decided to go up in the attic to find some books.

It was summertime. I went up there early so it wouldn't get too hot, but the temperature was already rising rapidly in the dimly lit, confined space. Like many attics, ours has an area running down the middle (where the roof peaks to its highest point) that has a plywood floor we use for storage. Step off the wooden floor, however, and you find yourself trying to balance on 2 by 6 inch joists with nothing between them but a flimsy layer of sheetrock.

The books were far from both the entry to the attic and the only light source, so I was trying to juggle a flashlight while slinging boxes around. Sweat was already beginning to drip off my nose as I struggled to find the right books as quickly as possible. After a lengthy amount of time partially bent over and perspiring, I was so intent on looking at the next box that I failed to look where I placed my foot and brought it down on sheetrock.

Abruptly, I started to drop through the floor to the garage below. Using my cat-like reflexes, I was able to grab on to one of the joists on my way down. Or maybe I was just flailing wildly in my panic and got lucky--we'll never know. Regardless, I managed to arrest my fall and dangled from the joist with nothing but a five foot drop below me.

It took roughly 500 man-hours to create this image

A decade ago, this would have been no big deal. I could've just brought my other hand up to grab the joist and gently dropped down to the floor below. In this case, though, my left hand wasn't working and I wasn't sure about my ability to land without hurting myself since my left leg is partially paralyzed and it can't absorb the impact from falling like it used to.

There was another, much more pressing, consideration. In the picture, can you see the cable dangling down from the hole? That is part of the cable that runs from our TV, back into the wall, up through the attic, and out on the roof to our antenna because we're too cheap to buy cable. That cable was between my legs.

Here's what was running through my head (yes, I hanged there from the ceiling for quite a while): just how strong was that cable? Because if it was a strong cable, I could let go of the joist, then painfully take that tight wire straight to the balls, then perhaps it would flip me over, and I would land on my head, and Betsy would come home to find her husband's brains spattered on the floor.

So, there I was. Dangling from the ceiling like that kitten on the "Hang in There" poster. I kept trying, unsuccessfully, to swing one leg over the wire. Also the garage door was open. I hoped that someone would pass by, walking their dog on the street. Then I could yell at them to come up and help me down. But my neighborhood picked that moment to be devoid of life.

"Why don't you try 'hanging in there,' asshole!!"

Nobody tells you what happens when that cat can't hold on any longer. Where's that demotivational poster?

I was fighting a losing battle. My pitiful cries for help went unanswered. My right side has the strength of ten men, but even my herculean muscles begin to flag over time. I finally figured oh, screw it, kissed my private parts goodbye, and let go of the joist.

As you can tell from the dangling cable--and the fact that I'm alive and writing this post--it snapped as soon as I put weight on it. I came down fairly hard and banged my head on the car hard enough to put a dent in it, but otherwise I was fine. No pain to the groin area!!! 

There's still a chalk outline on the ground where my body fell

After hitting the ground, I realized I'd dropped my flashlight and it was still up there where I fell through. So, like any moron, I went right back up the ladder to retrieve the light (didn't fall that time though...SUCCESS!!). I didn't say anything to Betsy until she happened to call later that afternoon:

Betsy: "Hey, babe, I'm on my way home. I think I'm going to stop by Target. Do you need anything?"

Brian: "No, I'm good...well I might have a medication ready. Could you stop by the pharmacy?"

Betsy: "Sure. I'll see you in a bit! Love you!"

Brian: "Love you! Oh, I fell through the attic so don't freak out when you see the hole in the garage."

Betsy: "WHAT?!?!?!?!?"

Brian: "See you later!"

Betsy: "YOU SON OF A-"

*click*

I ate duck yesterday.

Here's my latest confession: I use Twitter a lot (@Traveling_Tubie). This probably isn't much of a revelation if you're a Millenial, or if you're a techno junkie. But most of my friends have never tweeted in their lives.

When I first heard about Twitter, I scoffed at the idea. All you do is tell all your followers what you're doing?? The only people who might be interested in such a thing is the Kardashians--because they're so self-absorbed--and anyone who avidly cares about the Kardashians--because they have no life. Why on earth would anyone care if I tweet that I'm going to get a haircut? Who am I so enamored with that I would check twitter to see what they had for breakfast?

It's not really like that though, and actually it turns out there are certain people I love to follow on twitter. I'm a geek, and I love to read fantasy and science fiction books. I kept this from Betsy until after she married me (Ha Ha!). You can read more about it in my road trip post. It turns out that many of the authors I like (Tad Williams, Patrick Rothfuss, Brandon Sanderson, Scott Lynch, Neil Gaiman, John Scalzi...wait...you don't care do you?) are on twitter and tweet often about the projects they're working on. I love reading their tweets and sometimes they respond if I say something to them. Usually they tell me stuff like, "please stop tweeting me," or "what is wrong with you?" so I'm clearly making an impact!!

I also follow news outlets because I get news much faster on Twitter. During that Australian hostage standoff the other night, I turned to Twitter for news because I could get eye-witness accounts of what was happening. Plus I follow ESPN and CBS Sports because every team I like has a Twitter page and if I can't watch the game on TV, they tweet scores real-time on their feed. I follow the University of Tennessee women's soccer team because Grace and I like going to the games. They keep their Twitter page updated with play-by-play action during every game.

On top of this, I can follow others who inspire me. I'm interested in astronomy so I follow Neil deGrasse Tyson, the Mars Curiosity Rover, NASA, SETI, the 2013 class of NASA astronauts, and the astronauts on the ISS for pictures from space. In terms of tube feeding, I follow Real Food Blends, Vitamix, Blendtec, DrinkYourMeals, and other tubies (my current favorite is Shane Burcaw; check out his book, Laughing at my Nightmare).

But anyway, the point of me telling you this is that I follow the Washington Post's Food page on Twitter. My Aunt (not my real Aunt, but I've known her all my life and I've always called her 'Aunt') is an Editor for the Food Section of the Washington Post so I like to hear their fun recipe ideas.

It's hard to cook turkey for our family because they weigh about 100 pounds (rough estimate) these days and this is way too much meat for the three of us. Even turkey breasts have more meat than we could eat over three or four days. So, I got the idea to try duck this year. Before Thanksgiving, I bought a Peking duck at the grocery store.

The picture doesn't show the dog drooling under the counter

They are the perfect size for two or three people. I've never cooked duck before so I tweeted to the Washington Post and asked if cooking a duck was the same as cooking a turkey. They immediately responded, told me the two don't cook the same, and they gave me a link to a recipe I could use. I followed the recipe exactly and it turned out perfectly.

Looks delicious, if I do say so myself (Aspen was still drooling)

Betsy said it tasted like "really good turkey;" Grace loved it.

We also had rice and a vegetable medley

I put a bunch in my Vitamix, and we still had quite a bit for leftovers today!

Betsy makes me pose like this until it pours out on my lap

If you're not on Twitter, give it a try. If you are, then follow @Traveling_Tubie. I only tweet about vitally important things (like the last time I trimmed my nose hair).

You can call me Brain

This has nothing to do with tubefeeding or my health, but I feel the need to rant.

I hate the DMV.

Is there anyone, other than people who work there, who likes the DMV? Do people who work there even like the DMV?

For those who don't live in the US, the DMV is the Department of Motor Vehicles. It's where you go to get your license to drive.

Everyone I know, or see, around Knoxville is perfectly normal, they regularly groom themselves. They all possess average intelligence. Basically, everyone I come in contact with in this town is a productive member of society.

Then, I go to the DMV.

Much like the "Fourth Floor" on Parks and Recreation

You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.

On Parks and Rec, the "Fourth Floor" has the DMV, divorce court, and probation officer (and poisonous popcorn)

Where do these people, these creatures, come from?? I don't see them in everyday life. Am I in some small bubble of normalcy while the  rest of the population lives in a sort of dystopian, alternate-dimension Knoxville?

Anyway, let me share the story of the DMV's latest affront. In 2009, we moved to Knoxville. At that time, I went to the DMV office (eerily similar to every other DMV I've been to) to exchange my Colorado license for a Tennessee license. I walked in at 9:00 AM and I was out of there by dinner time--it was a typical visit to the DMV. They cut up my old license, snapped my picture (the most hideous picture I've ever seen), and I had my new card.

I was a Tennesseean.

A few months go by.

One fine day, I was showing my license to Betsy to prove to her that my license picture was far worse than hers (she agreed), when she happened to notice that they'd misspelled my name.

No, surprisingly they spelled 'Liebenow' correctly. No one ever spells that right. Even I misspell Liebenow at least once a day but the DMV got it right.

They actually got 'Brian' wrong. Nope, they didn't spell it 'Bryan.' That happens fairly often, but they got that right. The state of Tennessee decided to call me 'Brain Liebenow.'

BRAIN.

Betsy and I shared a good laugh about it, but I decide not to get it changed. Nobody ever notices it anyway. I figured it would be a pain in the ass to switch it. Plus, I try to make a habit of spending as little of my life as possible at the DMV. So, I thought, I'll just get it corrected when I renew my license in five years.

Fast forward to the present day.

I get a renewal notice in the mail, so once again, I make the trek to the DMV. I walk through the gates of hell and into their office and low and behold, there is almost no line in front of me. Only one kindly old woman getting her own license renewal. The people behind the counter have smiles on their faces. There's no one in handcuffs over in the corner. No one curled up in the fetal position mumbling profanities. Is my life about to change? Is this a sign that things will get better? Will 2015 be the year I finally get my hoverboard and flying car??

I walk up to the counter with a shy, hopeful grin on my face.

"Hello, I'm just here to get my license renewed," I declare.

"Alright, sir," the man answers kindly.

As though I'd just thought of it, I mention, "Oh, also I need to get an error changed on my name. You guys spelled it 'Brain' last time. Could you please change that to 'Brian?'"

The man gets a crestfallen look on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry sir. We can't change names at this office. You have to go to a state office to do that. The closest one is about 45 minutes away. Do you know where it is?"

My mouth gapes open in surprise. "No, I don't know where it is," I snap.

"Here's the address," he says helpfully. "You'll need to bring your birth certificate with you."

I grow more incredulous. "So you guys made a mistake and spelled my name as 'Brain.' But now you can't just go on your computer, and switch out the 'a' and the 'i' without me producing proof that my parents weren't cruel enough to name me 'Brain?!?"

"Sorry, I'm not allowed to change names here," he repeats. "You should really get that changed though. So....uh...did you still want to renew your license or go and get your name changed?"

You see what's going on here, right? This guy can renew my license, even though he knows my name is 'Brian.' Even though I have IDs indicating that my bank, my health insurance, the University of Tennessee, the Department of Defense, United Airlines, Costco, Target, the Public Library, and the Veterans Administration all agree that I'm not called 'Brain.' The local DMV office can overlook all that evidence and give me a new 'Brain' license because he's not permitted to fix a typo. But if I want to fix THE DMV'S mistake, I have to dig up my birth certificate and drive 45 minutes to wait in line at some other office.

A judge in Tennessee can order that a newborn's name has to be changed from 'Messiah' to 'Martin.' Yet if the family had named him 'Martin' to begin with, but the hospital had mistakenly typed his name as 'Messiah,' it would have taken an actual Messiah to get the kid's name changed back. Yes, I know these two things aren't in any way related but can you see the madness that is bureaucracy???

So that's it. I'm changing my name to 'Brain.' I figure it'll be easier to switch my name to 'Brain' with every other agency in the country--including the IRS--than it would be to get the DMV to fix their typo.

I will only respond to 'Brain' from now on. It's because I'm incredibly smart.

I nearly died the other day

Sorry I haven't blogged in a while, but I was moments away from death last week.

Ok, I was definitely at risk of dying.

Ok, ok, there was a slight chance I was going to die.

Alright fine, I fell down, broke several bones, drove the car to the ER while in blinding pain, and I'm currently in the ICU encased in a body cast.

ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!!! I fell down on some rocks and it really hurt. Are you happy?!?

I turn 40 next month. It's crazy how the older I get, the more one fall has the potential to inflict some serious damage. In this case, no broken bones, but I was so sore I could barely walk the next day, and it still hurts to take a deep breath.

How did this happen? Let me set the scene. 

I love taking my dog, Aspen, for walks. He is the perfect dog for walking. He never pulls on his leash. He loves being outside, doesn't care how cold he is (obviously; he's a freaking polar bear), and really enjoys exploring new places. 

He especially likes hiking in the snow. We get a TON of that in Eastern Tennessee!

I've been all over Knoxville with him--to every park I can find. My favorite place to go with Aspen is Ijams Nature Center. Ijams is a beautiful natural area on the Tennessee River just outside downtown Knoxville. There are hiking trails all over with a boardwalk along the river and plenty of wildlife scampering through the woods. The park is never overly crowded and has just enough hints of wildness that you can forget for a moment that you are still near the city.

I had to show Betsy and Grace the scene of the accident yesterday

On a whim, I took my handsome, noble pet to Ijams last Thursday. It was a perfectly crisp fall day--still fairly early in the morning so few people roaming the trails in the park. Normally, I took Aspen on a loop along the boardwalk by the river. But, he gets bored if we go the same route. I can tell when he's bored because he no longer stops to sniff every foreign object along our route. Instead, he just walks, glumly behind me. He steadily falls further and further behind, until I'm practically dragging him back to the car. So instead of hiking down to the river's edge, I chose a different route that first climbed up to a river overlook, then meandered down past a sinkhole and over a swampy area back behind--and probably 100 ft below--the park visitor's center.

Grace loves packing a really heavy backpack...then making us carry it

Such a beautiful morning for a hike. The autumn leaves carpeted our path and the high canopy of the older trees dimmed my surroundings and kept undergrowth away so I had a mostly unobstructed view of the rolling landscape and small woodland creatures surrounding us. Not another person in sight; only the peaceful sounds of nature that were so far removed from our suburban life across town. My fiercely loyal pet and I wandered, first following a tributary of the river, then circling around the visitor's center and some other historic buildings. As I said, we ended up far below the parking lot, on a series of boardwalks in a marshy area. By this point of the hike, I was tired, and--as so often happens on our morning walks these days--feeling the call of nature and in need of a bathroom.

His camouflage is amazing, isn't it?

So, I'm standing down there looking up this steep incline at the back end of the visitor's center, knowing our vehicle is within easy reach, ready to just get this walk over with so I can find the nearest restroom and do my business. The trail seemed to continue on, with a series of steep stairs cut into the hill and a rope railing leading up about 20 feet. 

Looks safe to me!

With my best friend at my side, I climbed those stairs, thinking there would be a trail leading me straight back to civilization. Instead, the path abruptly ended. That was it. The only way I could get back was retracing my steps and following the winding trail back over the roughly 10 miles* I'd just hiked. I looked my steadfast companion in the eyes and we decided to take a little shortcut, even though we'd just passed a sign warning us to stay on the trail.

Actually, it was this sign

Aspen swore he would help me over the difficult parts. I knew I could rely on my dog--just as early man depended on the first domesticated wolves for our survival. I set off up the mountain with my partner cautiously picking out a path in front of me. With only one working arm and my left leg weaker than the right, I couldn't race up the rocky hillside like I could've done a decade ago. But, I made steady progress with my furry white knight leading the way.

The hill I climbed looked strikingly similar to this

I was nearly at the summit. I could see the tops of cars and the pressure from my bladder had me in panic mode. Then, disaster. My left foot slipped on the moist ground. My left arm couldn't catch my body and there was nothing to prevent my left side from slamming against the sharp rocks embedded in the hillside. I emitted a sharp cry of pain and maybe a profane word or two as I wallowed in the dirt and leaves in agony. As I vainly tried to count the number of broken bones, I cried out for my friend, my loyal companion, the pet who I've fed and sheltered for countless months to come to my rescue!!

Did he come rushing back to my side? Did Aspen immediately rush off to find help or medical assistance?? Nope. The fat bastard just scrambled the rest of the way up the hill and without a backward glance, he walked away as though declaring, "I never really liked that dude anyway. Anybody want to finish my walk with me?"

"Thanks a lot, lard-ass," I muttered to the no-good mongrel as I painstakingly dragged my body the rest of the way up the hill and slowly limped back to the car. The hairy, conniving traitor, as though coming to the realization that the park was deserted and no one was likely to rescue him from his incarceration with the Liebenow's, trotted back to me and climbed into the car. As he sat in his preferred spot in the front seat, slowly drooling on the dashboard, he gave me a look that said, "Guess you didn't die back there after all. Since you're the only human around, I suppose I'll have to abide your company a while longer. You just gonna stand there staring, you scrawny punk?? Let's go!!!" Yes, his look said all those things. He's a very expressive animal!

Somehow, I was able to drive through the pain and dragged myself home. I managed to whine to Betsy enough that she took me in to see the doctor. I was certain I had a few broken ribs and a cracked pelvis but the X-ray came out completely clean. A couple days later, my hip was feeling better but my chest was hurting even more. I couldn't even take a full breath without being in pain. So this time, I got a CT scan because surely I had multiple fractured ribs that the X-ray failed to catch. Nope. All that extra radiation from the CT scan was for nothing because I only had badly bruised ribs. The only positive thing that's come from this experience is that I've gotten out of even more chores around the house. Also, I've come to see my evil, self-serving dog in a whole new light. 

Oh Aspen, how can I stay mad at you??

* This may, or may not, be accurate. Could've been 5 miles. Could've been 0.5. The truth is we'll never know just how far that return journey would've been. Hey, aren't we all on our own separate long journeys called 'life?' Think about it. 

Fulton's Crab House

On our last night in Orlando, we all went out to eat in Downtown Disney. In case you didn't know, Downtown Disney is an area of shops, restaurants and clubs near the Disney parks. It is Disney World's attempt to keep the tourists spending their money on all things Disney every minute they're in Orlando. So, not only are you blowing your money on hotel rooms, parking, Magic Kingdom passes, lunch and snacks; you can also bring the kids to Downtown Disney after hitting the parks for Cirque du Soleil, the Lego Imagination Center, and dinner at the Rainforest Cafe.

Kerrie and Betsy discovered they have something in common. They are both CRAZY about crab legs. I wrote about Betsy's obsession with crab legs in another post (link). Kerrie is about that bad--maybe a little worse. So, we decided to go to a crab leg mecca in Downtown Disney: Fulton's Crab House.

It's on a boat...how clever

It was such a lovely dinner. Matt's kids and Grace played quietly down at one end of the table while the adults could enjoy cocktails and talk at the other end. Or maybe the kids weren't at our table at all. I lost track of them but I'm sure they were fine.

I had a drink called the "Category Five." Then Betsy drank it.

I fully intended to get nice and tipsy during the meal, but for once Betsy decided I should be the responsible one that night. She finished off her martini, then proceeded to drink some of my "Category Five." Not sure what was in that thing, but by the end of the night my wife was singing loudly with a saxophone street performer playing "Billie Jean."

Then we got to the meal and Betsy and Kerrie tuned the men out as they attacked the poor crustaceans with gusto.

These innocent morsels never knew what hit them.

On the surface, Kerrie appeared to be enjoying her meal and politely devouring her crab legs:

"Om Nom Nom Nom"

But, if you look a little closer at her face, you'll notice something fascinating:

The Zombie Apocalypse has begun!!

I really loved this restaurant and wanted to give it a special mention on my blog because the chefs were so amazing to me. When I ordered my meal, THREE chefs came out to ask me about my feeding tube, the Vitamix, and make doubly sure they knew how to blend up the food the way I needed it.

Fulton's chefs are the best chefs

Fulton's bent over backward for me. The food was excellent. The service was fantastic. We couldn't have asked for a nicer family to share this dinner with. It was the perfect end to an awesome vacation. It's always a little bittersweet to talk with friends I knew before cancer. It reminds me of all the things I've lost, physically. But at the same time, it brings back memories of happier times and assures me that no matter how crazy my life gets and how much crap I go through, good friends will always be there to listen to me, to support me, and to punch me in the balls when I get too full of myself.

Cheers, Dunker's!!

Happiest Place on Earth: The madness continues

The next park we went to was Animal Kingdom. I was really excited about this park because I'd heard great things about it, but I was a little disappointed. It was the busiest park we went to so it was hard to squeeze through the press to see the animals. I can see most of the same animals at the zoo here in Knoxville and it's a whole lot less crowded. The safari was kind of lame; the animals weren't very close. At no point did I think I was on a real safari. I think the younger kids liked it, but whoever said Disney World is all about the kids?!?

The most I can say about Animal Kingdom is that they serve a tall cup of sangria:

Get it without ice to get you through the next line

I didn't learn my lesson and brought the blender, again. We left it at the first aid station near the front of the park and never used it. I had a Real Food Blend for lunch at one of the cafes.

With a sangria chaser

As I mentioned, the animals in Animal Kingdom were disappointing. The roller coaster they had, "Expedition Everest" was definitely my favorite of the whole trip though. It's the only one I went on twice. Betsy's favorite was "Space Mountain". I went on that one when I was a kid, but I was afraid to go on it this time because I thought it might jerk my head around too much.

 Video of "Expedition Everest" I pulled off youtube

Grace tried "Thunder Mountain Railroad" in Magic Kingdom then decided to opt out of roller coasters. While she waited with one of the adults for the rest of us to hit the scary rides, she discovered her talent for the "Whack-a-Mole" game. She is crazy-good at "Whack-a-Mole!!" If only that had some bearing on her education.

The cane was a big help to me, or maybe we didn't walk around as much

Grace's favorite ride was the "Kali River Rapids." It's one of those rides where a large group faces each other in a circular tube as it careens down a river. The tube was large enough to hold our entire group. There were ten of us--five kids and five adults--on that tube. We all knew some people would get really wet and others would get to watch it happen as one side or the other went under a waterfall or was at the front on a steep decline. The Liebenow's were fortunate because Matt and Kerrie got soaked and we got to watch as the wall of water engulfed them. Grace talked about it the rest of the trip.

That night, for dinner, we picked up from Bonefish Grill and brought it back to the house. So, I really didn't need to bring my Vitamix out the whole day.

Bonefish Grill, good friends, and copious amounts of wine

For our final day in Orlando, we decided to go to Hollywood Studios. I finally chose not to bring the Vitamix into the park so that was one less thing to worry about.

Grace and Anders at the Hollywood Studios entrance

For that last day, we were really missing the other adult in our group, Matt's sister Melinda. Ah, I've just realized I don't have any pictures of Matt's totally cool sister on my camera! Sorry about that, Melinda, or maybe you're just as happy I don't lampoon you on here. She was a HUGE help with us corralling the kids and very fun to be around. After she went home to Chicago, the rest of the adults realized we had to be parents again.

In Hollywood Studios, I was determined to bring a Real Food Blend on a ride--maybe even eat a Real Food Blend on a ride. It was a photo opportunity too good to pass up. The "Tower of Terror" was too dark and I couldn't possibly imagine trying to pour a RFB while getting bounced around in that elevator. So, I set my sights on the "Rock 'n' Roller Coaster."

Eating a Real Food Blend at the entrance wasn't nearly enough of a thrill

I slipped the bag into my pocket as we waited nervously in line. Betsy and I planned out the photo. It looked like the shoulder restraints would prevent any kind of tube feeding plus there's no way to hold a camera while the thing was moving. So we decided to snap a picture as I jumped in, right before we took off:

Nailed it.

The ride itself was fun, especially the first part. The bit at the end jerked my head a lot though and wasn't too comfortable.

Once again, I had a Real Food Blend for lunch. And once again, I flushed it with a very large cup of sangria.

With all these little girls around, I see why Matt is bald

Wait for it...

"Happiest place on earth" indeed.

We'd heard great things about the "Toy Story" ride, so we bit the bullet and waited an hour in line to get on. It was our longest wait time of the 3 parks we visited. Having a lengthy wait time is much more fun with a group than it would have been with just the Liebenow's. We managed to pass most of the time playing an iPhone app called "Head's Up" where one person holds the phone to their forehead displaying a word and the rest of the group gets him/her to guess the word. I'm not so good at explaining it but there's a free version and it's very fun to play if you have time to kill. Everyone else in line was asking us for the app name. When we finally got to the ride, it was pretty fun but I don't think it was worth such a long wait. You sit in pairs and shoot different targets with a laser-tag-type gun. It took two hands so I was a little handicapped. That's my excuse for getting demolished by Matt at the game anyway. Plus I'm pretty sure he was cheating.

Toy Story photo op.

Can you believe there were no costumed characters (Mickey, Minnie, princesses, etc.) walking around in Magic Kingdom??? Only a few in Hollywood Studios.

We went out to eat at a really nice restaurant in Downtown Disney that I'll discuss in a separate post.

So that was the trip. The Dunker's stayed a few more Liebenow-free days but we felt the need to get Grace back to school.

Oh, I should also talk to you about this little monster:

Yeah. Those are his actual eyes.

The morning we were about to leave, I woke up and took a fast shower. This was the end of our journey. I was thinking fondly of the time we spent with the Dunker's and of how much I admired their children. No bickering; very little complaining; very respectful, responsible kids. I can't say enough good things about them. If Matt and Kerrie suddenly sent them to our house to live with us for 6 months, I would have no problem with it. You don't understand what that means. Did you know I can't stand kids? I mean I guess I could take in my sister's two boys for a few weeks but I'm contractually obligated to say that. Even my own kid is barely tolerable. But Matt' and Kerrie's kids are terrific. 

No gawking at my tube-feeding either. The other day, my neighbor's kid told me, "no offense, Brian, but your neck freaks me out." That's fine. I appreciate his honesty and I have no problem answering kids' questions but the staring makes me a little uncomfortable after a while. Avery, Sloane and Anders didn't do any of that.

So there I was, coming out of the shower, blissfully thinking about how fortunate I was to have been introduced to such wonderful children, contemplating how bright the future of humanity was with such an inspiring generation of youths coming of age. All of a sudden, I hear a blood-curdling scream as Anders leaps out of the dark to frighten me.

Scared the crap out of me. My heart stopped. I may have given a high-pitched squeal, cowered in terror and peed a little, but it all happened so fast I can't remember. The next thing I know, I hear fading laughter as the little bugger (actually, 'bugger' isn't good British slang to use, is it? No, screw it. Anders is a little bugger--I said it!) scampered off back to his room. 

All I can say is, your time will come, Anders. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day. One day.

The Happiest Place on Earth

Yep, we did Disney. Some adults immediately groan when they hear that. I'll admit there are some negatives when I think of Disney World. The crowds; waiting an hour or more in line surrounded by screaming kids for a 2 minute ride; the muggy, oppressive heat of Florida; and the cost--a one-day park pass can set you back more than a hundred bucks these days. However, in this case I was pretty excited. We went in October, so there weren't so many people. Lines were shorter. Also, it wasn't as hot. I mean, it got up into the mid-80s during the day; I was sweating in shorts. But I can imagine it is much worse in July. The military offers a sweet deal on 4-day passes for retirees, so the cost wasn't so bad. The best part: My friends Matt and Kerrie were going too, along with their three awesome kids!! Going to a park like that is SO much better when you're with friends. You're kind of forced to be on your best behavior, you know what I'm saying? If it was just the three of us, I can imagine there would be a lot more moaning and groaning (mostly by me) and bickering. I couldn't imagine a better family to go with either.

I think I mentioned earlier that Matt and I were roommates in college. Here's a grainy class photo (sorry, my scanner sucks):

The main idea here is that he used to have a full head of hair

Matt was the captain of our swim team and near the top of our class of ~950 athletically, academically and militarily. By contrast, I tried playing intramural water polo one time and I was really horrible at it and surprisingly out of shape. I was decidedly average both academically and militarily--I mentioned in a previous post that I'd gotten in a bit of trouble when I was a freshman for being "out of uniform."  I had a 2.99 GPA (you'd think they could've thrown in the extra 0.01 just out of pity, the bastards). Not bad, but not stellar either. I graduated about #350 out of 950. I think Matt was #12. Matt would go on to get his MBA at Cornell. The only reason Matt agreed to room with a low-life like me is because his options were limited and because he went to the same high school (Go Raiders!) as my good friend, Dave--the same Dave as that "out of uniform" post.

I guess Matt's views on streaking were fairly liberal or maybe he had a lapse in judgement. Regardless, he was stuck with me for our last semester of college. This is where Kerrie comes in:

She still has hair today--others weren't so lucky

Kerrie Gribuski (I'm not making that up; her name was Gribuski; I can laugh because people laugh at my name all the time) and I were in a class together our senior year, Engineering 410 or something like that. Kerrie worked with me on a class project in our dorm room just once, and Matt was smitten. Actually he probably knew her before that semester--I can't recall. Regardless, a few days later, he sent her a long, thoughtful note complete with poetry expounding on her beauty and how he longed to share an evening with her if only to gaze into her eyes. Then he whisked her off for an intimate, romantic evening that would bud into a loving bond that could not be torn asunder.

I'm just kidding. He sent her a terse e-mail that said "I need some Gribuski time!" Then he picked her up for their 'date' with two freshmen girls in the back seat who needed a ride. At the end of the night he got no kiss and it was several months before Kerrie agreed to go for a second date.

But anyway, Matt and Kerrie now have three awesome kids. It was so cool catching up with them, reminiscing about college and sharing a few days in the Disney parks. It was especially gratifying that Matt planned our park visits like the Normandy invasion and had apps on his phone that would show how busy the parks were on a given day and up-to-the-minute wait times for each attraction.

Our first stop was Magic Kingdom.

Anders, Grace's cousin Julie, Sloane, Avery, and a strange Chinese kid who photobombed our picture at Magic Kingdom

Betsy and Kerrie standing in line; we did a fair amount of that

One of these men is devilishly handsome. The other is bald.

We brought in my Vitamix because we thought I might need it later on if we decided to eat dinner in the park. That turned out to be a mistake. It was a pain to drag the suitcase into the park. Then, we had to check it in at the first aid clinic. We left the park before dinner so there was no point bringing it in. To anyone who wants to bring their blender into the park: yes, they'll let you bring it in and you can leave it up near the entrance to each park where the clinic is. When you're ready to eat, you can pull it out and bring it to the restaurant. There are some sit-down places where I could've brought the Vitamix. Or if I was really bold, I could've plugged up on the wall of any snack bar. Disney will bend over backward for anyone with special needs, in my experience. I'm sure there are exceptions, but they wouldn't make much money if they had poor customer service.

As I'm sure you're aware, the food in the park is expensive and isn't the healthiest (though I noticed the market in Animal Kingdom had fresh fruit, veggies, and gluten-free stuff beside the Cheetos). I'd recommend bringing your own blend in. Better yet, bring in a Real Food Blend because you'd need to refrigerate your own blend until you're ready for it.

The little one lost a leg in the Haunted Mansion...the rides seem perfectly safe

After that first day, I was really exhausted. My left leg was dragging. Just way too much standing in line and walking around. For the other two parks we visited, I brought my cane and it helped tremendously.

Getting one of my pre-made blends from home for dinner

Thought I could do this whole post in one fell swoop, but I'll have to split it up. I'll talk about Animal Kingdom and Hollywood Studios in the next post. Plus I'll discuss why this kid is a little punk:

Because he liked to scare me and it's not funny when I'm not the one doing that, ok??

Road Trip: Take 2

Two of my friends from college (Matt and Kerrie) are now married and residing in London. They have three kids ranging in age from 6 to 12. The family rented a large house in Orlando and had a few extra rooms they weren't using. They decided to share the space with old friends so they could reconnect and enjoy the Disney World parks together. Unfortunately, those old friends weren't available at the time. So, Matt and Kerrie contacted all their other friends to see if there was any interest in sharing a house with them and going to Disney. Their plan was to go during a week when most kids are in school, though, so every friend they asked was forced to turn them down. Desperate to find someone to share the week with them, Matt and Kerrie put an ad on Craigslist and offered to pay any family to stay with them in Orlando that week. Even homeless families. But there were no takers, and after exhausting every possible avenue, the couple reluctantly asked us to join them in Florida. Without a moment's thought for her educational future, we decided to pull Grace out of school and immediately began planning our drive down. Like it or not, the Liebenow's were crashing their Disney party!!

So, I needed a plan for potentially long days walking around the Disney parks with no access to my Vitamix to make my meals. I decided to store all of my breakfasts and a couple dinners in Blender Bottles. The rest of my meals--the ones I'd be eating in the park--would be Real Food Blends. The day before we left, I spent a couple hours preparing my blends. The breakfasts were a mix of hard boiled eggs, sunflower butter, almond butter, frozen mixed fruit, goat yogurt, and green tea. The dinners were leftovers from a chicken, radish and carrot meal I'd made the night before, along with the rest of my frozen fruit. I filled up all of my blender bottles:

Blender bottles are the perfect size for my meals

The bottles were packed in a couple small coolers. I also packed my Vitamix for the other dinners we shared with Matt and Kerrie plus clothes, meds, and my suction machine to clean errant drool out of my mouth before bed--ah, how I miss the days when I only needed one small suitcase for a trip like this. I threw Betsy' and Grace's crap in an old grocery bag (because this trip was all about Team-Brian; who cares what they packed??) and we set out on our journey.

This is the beginning of the trip; that's why she's smiling

Just for fun, we took her to an abandoned warehouse and told her it was Disney World

We set out in the afternoon on Friday. The plan was to drive down to Katie's ("Hey Brian, watcha doin") house in Atlanta, spend the night, then drive the rest of the way on Saturday. The drive down was perfect! No traffic AT ALL. I've never had such an easy drive in my life!!!

Or maybe it looked like this. I'm trying to repress those memories.

Yeah, we were stuck on the Interstate for a few hours and I saw an old man with a walker race by our car. Since it looked like we wouldn't get to Atlanta until late, we decided to stop at a Wafflehouse so Betsy and Grace could eat and I could get one of my blended dinners.

The restaurant was way too crowded, so I told everyone I had Ebola (too soon?)

Fortunately, the next day went pretty smoothly. I got up, had my breakfast blend along with some coffee, and we hit the road. The drive was about seven hours. Halfway down, I had a Real Food Blend at a gas station along the Interstate.

It's much more fun when I do this while I'm driving

We reached Orlando in the afternoon and picked up Grace's older cousin, Julie. She had Monday off from school and her parents (Betsy's sister and brother-in-law) asked if we could bring her to Disney with us for a couple days. Grace was extremely excited that Julie would be joining us!

They began bickering shortly after this photo...they never stopped

A few words about Julie.

Julie is a genius.

I don't mean 'genius' like when I tell people I'm a genius after I've figured out how to put together a piece of Ikea furniture. Sure, it's an achievement. But needing five hours to realize I had it upside down the whole time probably doesn't mean I get to join Mensa.

No, Julie is an actual genius. She recently had her IQ tested and she's up there in the 145 range. She goes to a special gifted and talented school. She is, for all intents and purposes, a smarty-pants. That's what makes the following story so intriguing. Is 'intriguing' the right word? Frightening? Bizarre? Stinky? You be the judge.

When we were living in Colorado, we took care of Julie for a few months in 2007. She was a cute, little two-year old girl doing cute little two-year old things.

What an adorable little angel!!! (Julie's kinda cute too)

She was still sleeping in a crib and we had a hell of a time getting her to lay down for naps during the day. Normally what we ended up doing was put her up in her room then close the door for a couple hours of 'quiet time'. She would just play in her room and no one had any delusions she was doing any sleeping.

Then, one day, I guess she got bored or decided to branch out with her artistic talents. We walked in to find this:

Wait...where did she get mud? What's that awful smell?? Oh my God!!!

No, that's not mud on her crib. The little angel decided to use all material at hand for her art, including the clay-like substance she produced in her diaper. We walked in to a God-awful stench with poop all over the crib, in every conceivable hard-to-reach spot, on the walls. She even climbed out of the crib to decorate the rest of her room. We stood there, stupefied, and tried to take in the sight, the smell, the shear magnitude of the cleaning job in our near future. Julie, just stood and smiled proudly, looking over her handiwork with pride as though it was a quilt she'd been working on that she could finally show off to the rest of the family. She softly uttered one simple word:

"poop"

Part of her handiwork included rubbing feces on some of her toys. Julie had a little dollhouse with dolls representing Aunt Betsy, Uncle Brian, and little baby Julie. I noticed that Aunt Betsy and baby Julie were completely clean while Uncle Brian had poop smeared all over him; as though Julie took particular satisfaction in dousing her dear sweet Uncle with her own excrement.

.

Poor, poor Uncle Brian

What did we learn here? What's the lesson to take away from this story? Geniuses need an outlet for their creativity, and they obviously need sufficient materials or they'll be forced to devise their own art supplies with less than desirable results. We've also learned that my sweet, angelic niece would like nothing more than to rub shit all over me. Don't believe me? Just take a look back at Uncle Brian up there. A good, long look.

Like staring in a mirror--a grimy, crap-filled mirror

So, we finally made it to Orlando, got into our beautiful house, and met Matt and Kerrie's awesome kids. Grace and Matt's youngest child started playing outside and didn't stop playing until they were thoroughly exhausted and needed to come inside for bedtime.

Or maybe they just sat on the couch and played Minecraft

We were ready to start our Disney adventure! Then, that night, the most astounding thing happened. Every person in that house in Orlando came close to death, met alien life forms, and had the most amazing experience that anyone has ever gone through in the history of our species. It all started when--

To Be Continued...

(I've always wanted to do that)