Jon, not Job

So, as work Friday's go, things were going well -- I finally got that damn presentation done that was dogging me for months. Krista took off at 3:00 pm for a catered party at Ravina (a posh outdoor concert arena). Devin was still at camp, Ian and Nolan were farmed out to the neighbors.

When Nolan and Ian came home, they put on their swimsuits and headed over to the bi-weekly neighborhood happy hour. This time it was at a new neighbor who had a back yard you could land a B52 on. You know how you have like 5 trees in your yard? He has 200. Com'on, some people aren't going to heaven, just on principle. The yard is viewable from outer space with the naked eye. Just to prove it, look here ==> +42° 3' 46.12", -87° 48' 33.96" (42.062811, -87.809432)

I broke the ninth commandment by drooling over the house (and then the tenth by drooling over his wife). I waited past the original start time of the party, as to not seem to eager. I arrived with cocktail in hand and a nice appetizer that my wife pre-arranged. It was a gorgeous party, as I left the kids abandoned at the pool (getting my money's worth out of those swim lessons), and enjoying another question from Nancy -- "Name a funny sex or poop story . . . go!"

I seldom take my cell phone, but this time I did. I remember when I was 10 and my mom switched hotels without telling anyone. That's when my Uncle died, as an omen to never let people not get in touch with you. Well, my thigh shorts pocket kept tingling, and I swore it was because I was not exercising. After the forth ring, I finally realized it was the phone.

Long story, short, (wait, I think this is a two hour story, so not that short), I had to take my Mom to the emergency room. With hypertension, the nurse was worried about her blood pressure, so after dumping the kids again, making a trip to the pharmacy for a blood pressure detector, and after confirming the measurements we saddled up for another Friday night at Glenbrook Hospital.

I got some blood pressure medication after a three hour wait, and ended up with us back on the road headed home. And then, the floods of Noah came. Like a horror movie the thunder and lightning shook our car, and the torrential down pour made us stop the car waiting for reprieve as we headed home.

As mom was settling in for the night, the cell phone rang. Nolan was crying from the storm (an unusual occurrence), but I was headed home. Picking him up from the neighbors at 1:00 am, I realized my lesson of "if you want anything, cry" was not paying off for me. I picked him up, and as we sat eating 1/2 day old cheeseburgers we settled in for the night. An easy weekend, I thought -- pick up Devin from camp, and head downtown to the Manchester United vs. Chicago Fire game at the Soldier Field. Nolan and I settled in for bed at 1:30 pm.

Knock, Knock, Knock -- the door pounded like a machine gun target. Knock, Knock, Knock - you know how you wake up in the middle of the night in a panic attack? Knock, Knock, Knock -- "Anyone there?," came the voice from downstairs. The lightening and thunder had continued all night, so I was somewhat easily awakened.

WTF, and I don't mean "Welcome to Facebook." I stumbled downstairs as might heart raced with panic. In the back of my mind I go through the seven signs of a heart attack -- short of breath, tightness in the chest, . . . shit, what are the other five?

"Our basement is flooded. Check your photo albums, they maybe ruined," came the odd warning. As I turn on the lights, my greatest fear is a reality, the first step at the bottom of the basement is covered in water.

Krista is staying overnight downtown. The neighbor's are in Greece. Boom. Thunder and lightning set the stage again.

I call Krista. "Are we flooded?"

"Yep," I reply wondering how this prophet knew.

"So are the Jacks, they just texted I am headed home"

I go outside to take care of my neighbor's yard that is a flood plane for the whole neighborhood. He is in Greece with his family, and has given me explicit instructions -- if we get a flood again, like 2008. (I later learn we exceeded all flood records for the past two centuries that night.). After jerry-rigging (how come only the wasp slurs are still pc?) the outdoor sump pump while standing in two feet of water with the electrical cord dangling in the water, I finally open the Parkview lock to drain half of Glenview. Picture the cover of "Shawshank Redemption" and you can imagine my victory.

Krista finally comes home, after borrowing the car from the guest of honor, we embrace each other in a good cry. It is now 3:30 am.

We decide that the only thing to do, is to try and get some sleep. After 10 minutes in bed, Krista rattles off 26 things that are underwater -- the table leaves to the dinning room tables, the photo albums from Devin's first year of life, Devin's Ugg boots, yearbooks from High School and College. "Damn," I think to myself, realizing that I am not going back to bed until Sunday.

We rescue items 1-26 on Krista's list, and she heads back to bed. Meanwhile, I am now in fully engaged in my "Street Car Named Desire" wife-beater tee, and cannot go to sleep as my heart races like the Hulk after a gamma radiated rage -- "Must move entire basement to the garage within the next hour, and pull up all carpeting with my teeth."

As I started my long journey into dawn, I realize that tonight God must have confused my name with Job. A bird is now flying in the house. I don't make this stuff up. It writes itself. Normally when confronted with small creatures -- birds, mice, chipmunks -- I get kinda girly. However, tonight I have had enough -- No, No, No, No, not tonight." I scooped the damn thing up with my bare hands and throw it of the house. Welcome to Facebook (wtf).

Later, I still think God has me confused, as I am electrocuted from the soaked light switch in the garage. Welcome to Facebook.

By 7:30 am, the flood plane was drained, the basement furniture adorned our garage like an indoor yard sale, and I was taking the box cutters to the carpet. Any normal person would have gone to bed by now, but today was special. Nolan cajoled my into buying $250 tickets to the Mancheter United exhibition game downtown, and I would do anything not to miss this game.

Mom had a 10:00 appointment at the doctor's office. After cat-naps, a cramped waiting room due to floods at the office, fulfilling a prescription and shopping for grandma's mid-week supplies, I went home for some final furniture moves, mopping the basement with bleach, a cold shower (flood took out water heater), I was determined to be on the road by 2:30 pm, for the 4:00pm game.

On the road at 3:00 pm, I realized I might be a little late, but me and the little guy would make the majority of the game.

2 1/2 hours later after sitting in Chicago traffic, me at 61, 308 other soccer fans finally made it to the field. As I pulled up to the parking garage, the attendant said, "there is only 16 minutes left of the game."

"So, I get to park for free, right?"

"Nope. It's still thirty bucks."

As I look at Nolan now in full cry mode, I think to myself, "What's another $30?" We park the car with doors unlocked, windows down, and run to the stadium.

We have the best damn seats in the stadium -- in the shade, with Man. UTD kicking towards our seats. We watch just as Nani scores the final goal on a fake kick blooped over the head of the Chicago goalie. He does a bicycle flip in celebration. A tear come down my check as Nolan stand atop of the folded back stadium seats, and yells "Gooooooooooooooooooal." Best 16 minutes of soccer ever.

We drove home, and I got to bed to enjoy a coma-like night's sleep.

I still can't determine if it was a good weekend or not. After all, I got rid of all that nasty carpet in the basement, purged the toddler toys and costumes, saved the neighborhood from Noah like proportional floods, and saw the best international soccer game of my life.

Okay, I guess it is Jon, not Job.