Take Your Pick

The complete (and sometimes graphic) story of Norah & the Toothpick...

Her mood changed this quick.

Our last day in Chicago was not supposed to be a memorable one. In the morning, we packed our bags to leave. Then, our journey hit a snag. A wooden kind of snag. While at our hosts' house, the kids had been engaged for countless hours playing what they called 'Shop'. They made various items, and then forced us to spend our actual money on these goods. It was a great game. For them. It did, however, occupy them completely, and it was totally self motivated, so we let it go on for days. The biggest hit in their shop was the 'candy'. This was basically raisins, chocolate chips and popcorn on toothpick skewers. The candy was so popular, that the shop owners themselves decided to eat into their profits. There's no telling how many of these candy kabobs they devoured. While little kids may be good at setting up a make believe store, they fall woefully short in the cleaning up department. A discarded toothpick, waiting in the plush carpet, was bound to find a child's bare foot. It did. And Norah wailed as she realized she had been impaled. Jenny came running. What she saw, was a small hole in the bottom of Norah's foot. Right below her toes. “I stepped on a toothpick!” she wailed. There was no longer any sign of a toothpick still in her foot. Some blood. But that's it. “She pulled part of it out”, said Nina. Then Jenny felt the top of Norah's foot. The opposite side of the entry wound. A pointy lump. Part of the toothpick was still in her foot, and it was in really deep.

Luckily, the nearest ER was ridiculously close, so Jenny raced there for what we hoped would be a quick extraction. We were wrong. The x rays turned up nothing. Not because you couldn't tell there was a toothpick still in her. You could. It made a cartoonish lump where it was sticking out the other end. No, because it was made of wood, it apparently didn't read on an x ray. So, without being able to exactly pinpoint its location, the orthopedist likened it to the proverbial 'needle in a haystack'. He worried that more damage could possibly be done to Norah's foot by digging around in it, if he couldn't quickly locate the toothpick. The alternative was to wait. That's it. Take some antibiotics. Some pain meds. And wait for the thing to work its way out. 

So, that's what we did. We waited. We were told we should follow up with another orthopedist in St. Louis, so we headed back that afternoon. With her leg propped up on the seat in front of her, we powered through Illinois quickly. Once back in St. Louis, we started doing everything we could to coax that toothpick out of her. And I don't mean the figurative 'everything'. I mean the literal one. Everything. She soaked it in Epsom salts. Several times a day. We tried salve. We tried just about every remedy that anyone recommended. It read like a nice sized grocery list. Bananas. Soap. Sugar. Bread. Milk. Salt. We learned what a poultice is. And we even contemplated wrapping her foot in bacon. All this to try and help her body works it magic, and start to eject the toothpick on its own. If it would simply 'present' itself, (meaning the tip of it start to poke back out) it could then be easily extracted. We waited some more. It wasn't easy at first. Norah's foot was swollen and she was in a lot of pain. We kept the pain medication coming around the clock at first. We tried to make light of the situation. Clark nicknamed her The Gimp. Jenny called her Woody. The follow up visit in St. Louis told us pretty much of the same. No digging around. Too risky. Waiting was still our best option.

*Authentic wooden leg (contain less than .01% wood)

It had been almost a week now since the toothpick became a part of our life. Norah gimped through Halloween. We called her 'Woody the Peg Legged Pirate' (now with actual wood!) After the holiday, we were ready to hit the road, and Norah was starting to cope better now.  Your body is pretty amazing sometimes. Once it recognizes a foreign body, it starts building up barriers around it, to make you more comfortable. It adapts to it. Some people incorrectly think that your body can 'absorb' or 'break down' something. It does not. It just builds up cushions around it and keeps it. For a long time sometimes. As we talked to others about Norah's condition, we heard many similar stories of things being poked into peoples bodies. For years sometimes. Decades other times. Then one day, pop, out they would come. These were not the stories we wanted to hear. We didn't need this toothpick to become a permanent member of our family.

Soaking rays, soaking feet.

It was time to leave, and Norah still couldn't walk. We got her some crutches, brought our box of remedies, and hit the road. We had to alter some of our stops along the way, because there was too much hiking, or walking at them. Instead, we had lots of layovers along the way where the kids could swim. Indoor pools at hotels. Hot Springs pools. Hot tubs. We hit them all. They were great for a couple of reasons. It was something Norah could do without pain. And all that soaking was bound to help work that thing out of there. Certainly a few hours in a mineral rich hot spring would draw that thing right out, right? The entry hole which had closed up, was starting to look a little bigger. We were hopeful. Any day that toothpick would present itself.

Eventually Norah got better and better on her crutches. The swelling on her foot had gone down. The pain had pretty much subsided. She even started putting some weight on the side of that foot. Her body was doing its job. It was adapting to the toothpick. It just wasn't doing the 'pushing out the foreign body' kind of work that we were hoping for.

Once we finally arrived in Phoenix, Norah followed up with a 3^rd orthopedist. This time we'd get different answers. They used ultrasound on her foot, and finally pinpointed the location of the toothpick. It was deep as we had thought. It was located between the 3^rd and 4^th metatarsal. It had not moved towards the entry wound as we had hoped. It was, in fact, still near the top of the foot. Surgery was set. It was coming out through the top. 

Slightly larger than a needle. Her foot, slightly smaller than a haystack.

The surgery was crazy simple. The most worrisome part of it, was having her go under general anesthesia. Even though the cut would be small, and relatively painless, they couldn't have Norah squirming around while they removed it. So, out she went. It would be a quick procedure. Just thirty minutes from the time they took her away from Jenny, to the time she could go back in to see her. A tiny incision was made, and the slightly larger than 1 inch toothpick fragment was easily removed. 

Recovery was almost instant. No stitches. No big bandages. By the next day, she was already running around like normal, glad to be rid of her little wooden companion.

Goodbye Woody the Gimp.

Good riddance toothpick. 

I Like Big Buttes

The "Mitten" Buttes

Near the Arizona/Utah border, deep in the heart of Navajo Nation, sits the magnificent area known as Monument Valley. This region is famous for its sandstone buttes that emerge abruptly from the desert landscape. Well known in many western movie settings, this majestic place is breathtakingly beautiful.

As we approached the park, we attempted to get the kids excited about this stop. No rides. No games. No activities. Just cool landscapes to look at. 

"Hey kids, we're going to Monument Valley."
"Will there be monuments? Like the Arch?"
"Not exactly.... just some cool rocks and buttes."
"What's a byoot?"
"It's like a small mountain that rises straight up out of the ground."
"Oh."
"It's spelled b-u-t-t-e"
"Like butt?"
"I guess."
"Yay! We're going to go look at butts!"

At least they were excited.

A tour through the visitor center showed us some Navajo art work and an insight into Native American lifestyle. We learned the names of the rock formations in the area, and bought some Navajo souvenirs. On the way back to the car, the girls discovered that there was hard packed sand covering the ground. A giant sandbox essentially. They were set. Geology be damned, there was sand to play in.

What State Are You In?

New Mexico...check.

One of the fun parts of this trip for the girls, is to identify each new state that we travel to. They each have a map of the United States where they color in the corresponding states once we've visited them. The only rule is that we have to actually do something in the state for it to count. Just driving through, stopping for gas, or eating lunch does not count. There has to be at least one destination within the state before they can fill in their maps. 

Colorado...check.

Arizona...check.

Utah...check.

You can imagine their delight when they learned about our next stop. The Four Corners Monument marks the point in the Southwestern United States where the states of Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah meet. It is the only point in the United States shared by four states. Since, technically the monument rests in all four states, it counts as a destination for each one.

There are literally lines in the pavement that converge in the middle, in a cross pattern. We all enjoyed goofing around in what is probably typical Four Corners behavior. “Hey...I'm in Utah! Can you hear me all the way over there in New Mexico?”... “Where's the kids?... They're each in a different state!” … “My head is in Arizona, but my butt is in Colorado”. Good fun.

The girls were also interested to learn that there are still Native Americans living in our country. The monument sits inside Navajo nation, and there were vendors selling Native American trinkets all around the monument. “Why aren't they dressed like Pocahontas?” We really need to work on some more history lessons.

We're so close together, yet so far apart.

 

The Beer Garden of the Gods

    Near Colorado Springs, sits The Garden of the Gods, a geological marvel created millions of years ago. The amazing geologic features of the park were formed when the Rocky mountains were created. The immense force needed to make mountains caused a massive uplift of sedimentary rocks. Once deposited horizontally, these rocks now tilted vertically. Over time, erosion has left these awe-inspiring figures.

Since its creation, people and animals alike have been drawn to the area. Both the Native Americans and wildlife were attracted to the plant life in the area and used overhangs created by the rocks for shelter.

In 1859, a surveyor suggested that it would be a "capital place for a beer garden.” His companion, awestruck by the impressive rock formations, exclaimed, "Beer Garden! Why it is a place fit for the gods to assemble. We will call it the Garden of the Gods."

A short paved hike around these natural structures was the perfect way to spend our first afternoon in Colorado. The girls tried to match the formations to their appropriate names. Kissing Camels. The Three Graces. Nina read on a sign that there were bighorn sheep in the area. She persistently searched for them (without success) for the rest of the day. The afternoon sun turned the sky an amazing shade of blue when set against the backdrop of the red rocks. What a cool place.

Real Men Don't Need Guardrails

     They say as an adult, you're not able to remember much before the age of four. For me, that's true. I can't really recall much of anything from those early years of my life. My family moved to Missouri when I was three years old. I remember nothing about that move, or my life before it. My very first memory that I have, is from the first family vacation we took after the move. That summer, my parents loaded my sister and I up in our Datsun station wagon and drove us to Colorado. As my Dad tells it, they had no idea how far a drive it really was. Before the internet, people looked at maps. And, on a map, it was only one state away. To their east coast mentality, that was nothing. Just one state. So, we crammed into the car, and twelve brutal hours later, we arrived in Colorado. That part of the trip I can't remember. 

The most visited mountain in America

While in the Rocky Mountain state, my parents decided to take a drive up to the top of Pike's Peak. Once again no internet, and a lack of planning would leave us ill prepared for the voyage. The drive up to the summit of this mountain is 19 miles long, and takes you up to 14,000 feet. The switchback roads are super curvy as you ascend the peak. At certain points along the drive, there are sheer drops, straight down. No guardrails. Just a steep edge. This I remember vividly. I recall being totally frightened as my sister and I sat in the back of the Datsun. “Surely my Dad is going to just drive off one of these cliffs.”... “We're all going to die.” These are the thoughts that somehow ingrained into my long term memory bank. My earliest memories are ones of pure terror. Finally, after somehow dodging death multiple times, we made it to the top. 

I remember being cold.

We got out at the summit, and it was freezing arctic cold. Frigid. Polar. It was summer, and we were ill-prepared. No coats. No mittens. No hats. Just freezing ass cold. Again, this I remember very well. I remember the cold.

When looking for things to do on our current adventures, I wanted to take that drive up Pike's Peak again. This time, as an adult, it would be different. It wouldn't be as scary. We would be ready. This drive would be fun and exciting for everyone. Perhaps our four year old would make a memory to last her a lifetime.
      We headed out first thing in the morning and began the ascent. First stop was the admission gate. “The road is only open for 15 of the 19 miles. There's too much ice and snow on the roads right now,” we were told by the park ranger. “We're hoping the road to the top will be open in a couple hours.” she added. “That's OK,” we thought. “Fifteen miles is still pretty good. Ice and snow on the roads? Hmmm....”

 The first few miles were relatively peaceful. Some reservoirs. Plenty of pretty views of the mountain. No ice or snow, yet. The girls were enjoying the sights. Nadia was even coping with her car sickness so far. The pamphlet they gave us at the gate said it was best to drive to the top first, then do all the stopping on the way down. It would be easier on the car that way. So, that's what we did. Onward we pushed. No stopping. Past the gift shop, and past the halfway point. A little bit of snow lined the side of the road now. The girls couldn't wait to go play in it. Nadia wanted to eat it.  

Suddenly at around mile 12, the roads got curvier. Steeper. Windier. The side of the road dropped straight down. No guardrails. 
I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Poppa, look at that nice view over there.” Nope. My eyes were glued on the road ahead. Right about then, Nadia started feeling bad as well. My palms grew sweaty. My heart rate raced. Suddenly I was four years old again. This time I was the one who was gonna drive off the edge of the mountain, killing us all. Onward.



Finally, we reached the point where the roads were too icy to go any further. Somewhere around mile 17. We got out. We were ready. Coats. Hats. Gloves. Lots of layers. It was frigid. Windy. Brutal. The wind was surely going to blow us off the mountain. A couple of quick photos later, and we jumped back in the car. Frostbite was surely about to set in. We had gone far enough. We started our descent. 

Brrrrrrrrrr

After a couple miles down, the rangers informed us they were finally opening the road all the way to the top. We could turn around, and head back up. Nadia was miserable by now. “Nope. We're good.” Downward. The big girls got to stop and play in the snow, and even eat some. Nadia had reached her limit, however, and was now drifting in an out of motion sickness induced sleep. I guess that means as an adult she won't remember this part of the trip at all.  


I'm OK with that.

 

Grassroots Art - Lucas, Kansas

American Fork Art

Just south of the geographical center of the United States, smack dab in the middle of Kansas, sits the quirky and eclectic town of Lucas. Dubbed the “Grassroots Art Capital of Kansas”, this small town of just 400 people is  packed with a crazy amount of what is known as outsider art.

Our first stop was the Grassroots Art Center, where we got a private tour from the center's director, and a thorough explanation of this art form. The mission of the center is to exhibit and preserve the self-taught, recycled, and visionary art environments found throughout Kansas. “No formally trained, fine artists here” we were told. Often driven by a vision, most of these artists work for years creating their pieces. Grassroots artists make a statement. No rules intimidate them. No one tells them how it should be done. They create in a particularly uninhibited way. Working primarily to please themselves, they have little concern that their works will find an audience or that others value what they have made. Thanks to the Art Center, though, their work has an audience, and we were glad to have found it.

One particular art form was described as 'yard environments'. Popular throughout, but not unique to Kansas, this style of artistry is displayed, usually in massive numbers, in one's yard. Again, anything goes here. Farm equipment turned into magical creatures. Roadkill bones crafted into unusual sculptures. Recycled items. Barbed wire sculptures. Some were more impressive than others, but all of them had a special and unique charm to them.




There were some artists' works that really stood out to us. Herman Divers spent his whole life working with his hands. Then, in is later years, he started making art out of soda can pull tabs. After a short explanation to our kids of what a pull tab is, they were impressed with his full sized automobile and motorcycle, both crafted from this outdated recycled material.




Another surprisingly cool art piece at first glance appeared to be nothing more than an assortment of junk. After an explanation from the director, we learned it was just that. Junk. But with a twist. It's creator had made this piece all from items he recovered from the bottom of one particular lake. When they dredged the West Park Lake in the 1970s, this man painstakingly recovered all sorts of items from the muck. He cleaned them off, arranged them, and voila.... art. This was just one art composition of the over 70 that he made. Each one of them assembled from treasures lost in the lake.


The girls were also fascinated with the work of Mri Pilar. Using only recycled item, she creates a huge variety of art pieces. Her most abundant works, were what she appropriately calls “Rebarb”. What originally started as Barbie dolls, she turns into something far different from the prim and proper iconic toy. Her work is so plentiful, it filled an entire separate house. This 'Garden of Isis' is a 7 room, foil-lined art gallery jammed with her savvy obsessions. The girls loved it.

I don't think this one's living in the Dream House with Ken.

Our Grizwold Family Outing

We are the Grizwold family. Up until this point in our travels, the comparisons have been ignored. Our family, like theirs, is driving across this great country of ours. We departed Chicago. Drove through St. Louis. Worked our way across Kansas. Eventually we're heading to the Grand Canyon and Arizona. And more obviously, the patriarch of our family is named Clark. Yup. It cannot be ignored any longer. We're the Grizwold's.

Like his counterpart, Clark also wanted to stop and see all the fun roadside attractions along the way. In the movie, his family did not share this enthusiasm. Convinced by his wife to abandon these stops, Clark W. Grizwold gave up on his hopes. Unlike the fictitious Vacation family, we would succeed where they had failed. Kansas was just the state to provide us with such an opportunity.

Specifically,  this scene.

That's right, we were heading to the LARGEST ball of twine in the world. Located in Cawker City, Kansas, sits this 18,000 pound ball of sisal twine. Started in 1953 by a local farmer, the landmark was donated to the city in 1961. The town of Cawker City has fully embraced this goofy roadside attraction. And when I say they embrace it, I mean the town exists solely because of it. Every year they celebrate their claim to fame with a Twine-A-Thon where they add to the ball's total size.

This is what 9 tons of twine looks like.

Additionally, in the windows throughout Main Street, are recreations of famous paintings with the ball of twine hilariously added into them. A twine path, conveniently painted on the sidewalks leads from the ball to these pictures.