Horse walks into a bar. Bartender says "Why the long face?"

Have you ever noticed how often powerlines get in the way of a really nice photo opportunity?

I've had this thought running through my head since I was in Santa Cruz last. It's really been bugging me for a couple of reasons. One, ever since I first realized it, I've been noticing just how often they do ruin an otherwise great picture. And second...well just a minute ago I had another reason, but it seems to have gone away. Maybe I summarized them both with the first one.

Really though, they are all over the place, powerlines. I realize that they provide us with the juice for all of our modern domestic conveniences. This laptop I'm using is a perfect example of that. But they are sometimes a real pain in the tukhes, like when a big blizzard blows through and knocks your power out (like yesterday). Or, when they get in the way of what would otherwise be a nice picture that I'd like to take. Maybe I should just start taking pictures of things I see with interfering powerlines. I could make it a category on Flickr, or something.

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I've seen my father in a hospital bed for 3 days now. Everyday, it seems harder and harder to see him like that. Sometimes, I feel like I can really get everyone through this. Other times, I feel completely helpless. Today, his tailbone was hurting him and making him toss and turn in the bed. He can't really turn on his side all the way. I wish I could give him mine for a little while, or at least I wish I could hold him up off of his. His right quad atrophied some and is making it very difficult to lift his right leg. The parts of him that aren't artificial in his knee are very stiff as a result. Bike riding has given me pretty strong quads. I'd like to lend him mine until his are stronger. He hasn't been able to take a shower since before his operation. I'd like to give him my morning shower, and make it a nice long one. Genetics gave me his sense of humor. I'd like to lend it back to him so that he'd be able to smile. He's tired and frustrated and weak. He wants to go home. He wants to be able to walk again. I really wish I could hang a bag of positive endorphins on his IV drip. And while I'm at it, I'd like to serve up a dose of Hang In There to my mom. She's a rock when she's with my dad, but she's tired of trying to keep his spirits up as well.

I know things could be a lot worse. I know that. I haven't seen my dad like this since the radiator cap on the car engine blew and gave him some bad burns when I was 7 or 8. I was too young to really understand his healing process then. I know that all of this will be worth it in the end, but getting everyone to believe that isn't as easy as I'd hoped it would be.

Take care of your knees, people.