Cautiously Optimistic

It’s 5 am on a Saturday and I am awake. Sick and twisted I tell you. Most days it’s all I can do to drag my tired self out of bed to say goodbye to Sir D and guzzle some coffee before I have to start educating my offspring. But today? When I can sleep in without the guilt? I’m awake.

I woke up because of the joint pain, you know, because I’m 80. And allergies. I was drowning, it was gross, I will say no more. I also woke up with a strange sort of supercharged feeling in my body, similar to that feeling you get when your foot falls asleep and is finally regaining feeling. Weird.

I’m sure it’s the new meds I’m on. I’ve had a new round of tests and they think they’ve found something.

When I went in to see the rheumatologist last month because Sir D made me, I was just in pain everywhere. You should see me trying to make it up the stairs, it’s pathetic. When this dr did an extensive exam and x-rays and what not, he said to me that he didn’t know what this was yet, though he had his suspicions, but he knew what it was not. It was not Fibromyalgia. I was told several years ago that that is what it was. All the treatments I have tried for FMS have not worked. AT. ALL.

Perhaps that is why.

So I went in yesterday to get all my results. Apparently my blood tests came back positive for Sjögren syndrome. I was quite surprised and I think the dr was too. We both thought it was Rheumatoid Arthritis. I’ve been tested for RA several times, always negative, but apparently sometimes people test in the negative for RA when they actually do have it. There are other tests you can do to confirm it. We did those other tests and it was not RA. Turns out it’s some strange, weird named syndrome I’d never heard of.

The dr seemed quite pleased. He felt like this is a treatable disease and that I will be feeling much better soon. Pardon my skepticism, but this is not my first rodeo. I’ve been told this by several doctors before. “We’ll figure it out.” “We’ll keep working until we get you better.” “We can fix this.” And every time I have not responded to their treatment.

Now, I guess this time, there is something that finally showed up in a blood test (I saw the numbers on the little chart!) not just some doctor guessing about what is going on because of a total lack of anything to go by in my test results, so that is positive.

I’m on a new medicine and was able to discard some of the other unsuccessful treatments I’d previously been using. This new drug is a little out there for me, but if it works, I’ll be singing its praises. The way the drug works is that it attacks and kills the white blood cells that are the bad ones attacking the soft tissue lining of my joints and other glands and organs and stuff (how's that for medical jargon!), but not the white blood cells that are doing what they are supposed to do. How can the little white pill that I put in my mouth and swallow, differentiate between the good and the bad white blood cells? All very Star Trek.

So when I woke up this morning, all my joints aching and this weird supercharged feeling throughout my body I couldn’t help but imagine this little white pill running throughout my body, sword in hand, slaying the evil white blood cells.

Maybe I should lay off the wine before I go to bed.

I think they just make this stuff up as they go along.

The choppers are at it again. Whoop, whoop, whoop.

It is not ice today that is causing the problem, but frozen fog. Never heard of frozen fog? Don't be dismayed, I think the weathermen recently made that term up. I do not ever recall hearing the term 'frozen fog' as a child. There was fog and there was ice.



So here's the situation, we have a thin layer of ice on the roads, thinner than yesterday, but when you're talking about driving your car over it does it really matter how thin it is? But instead of the sun shining in the sky and beginning to melt off the ice, we have fog.

What that basically means is that everything outside is slicker than snot, to borrow a phrase from the ever-so-eloquent Sir D, and you can't see more than a few feet in front of your face.

Happy Driving my fellow North Texans.

The Few, The Proud, The News Media

I woke up today to the sound of choppers whoop, whoop, whooping over my house. At first I thought we were being invaded. I got out of bed and made my way over to the window, and looked outside.

I saw several news helicopters hovering in the distance, and then I remembered. We live on a hilltop, and when I look out my window I can see the neighboring hilltop, but in the valley between the hills is a major interstate. Not just one actually, but two. There is another one, albeit smaller, that branches off and heads away from my house and up the other hill.

Usually this is not a problem. It is far enough away that we can’t see or hear it. Occasionally I can hear the hum of the traffic when it’s winter and the leaves are off the trees. A day like today however, I am reminded of how close I live to the highway.

You see, every time we have an ice storm down here in TX, this happens. Those necessary, but obnoxious semi’s try to exit the main highway onto the lesser highway and get stuck going over the overpass that is uphill. Every.Time.

Then the choppers start. I don’t think the news media knows there is a recession because each one of them has their own chopper and in this major city that I live? Many, many news outlets.



I really need to keep this foremost in my mind when I go to sleep when the weather men have predicted and ice storm. That way when I wake up I won’t think the news outlets have banded together and are trying to take my hill.

I could get used to this.

I thought you all should see what I got to eat for breakfast today.

This.



Ann made them for us.



We had a bunch of blueberries that were about to go bad. They were too soft to eat alone, but they were still good (and sweet!). So Ann whipped up some muffins.

Yum.

Tomorrow I think I'll request Banana bread...

Now I've (not) Seen It All!

You have to watch this. You will not believe it. It is the most jaw dropping, amazing thing I have ever seen.

WOW!

Must...Have...This...

How adorable is THIS? Do you see the Word of the Year necklace? That's MY WORD!



How cool!

I have to have this! Sir D? Are you reading? Valentines Day is coming, in case you were in need of some inspiration...It is lovely with the 24" ball chain in case you were wondering.

If Only I had Chocolate...

I think this might be the coolest thing ever.

I am always on the lookout for fun kiddie snacky things that Ann can eat with out, you know, dying. Since this has no dairy it fits the bill.

How fun would this be on a cold day? Or, really any day, because it has chocolate and chocolate as we all know is good any day.

Consequently, I have no chocolate in my house. I just ran across that recipe. I have bananas, I have marshmallows. Know what I don't have?

Yes. Chocolate would be correct.

I think I'm going to have to go to the store tomorrow.

I like the night life...I love to boogie...

Sir D and I had been planning a night on the town tonight. We were going to go out to eat with a gift certificate (excuse me, gift card, sorry I stumbled back to the early 90's for a minute) we got for Christmas, then really just go all wild and do some Wal Mart shopping.

But then, well, Bob reminded us of a Youth Group event that takes place tonight, and Will reminded me that he was asked to help out at said Jr High Youth event, and we'd have to leave the girls here alone. Then Sir D called to tell me he'd be home late, but we'd still go out he promised.

I could tell his heart wasn't in it. He's tired. I'm tired. I don't like leaving the girls alone for long, even though g-ma is right across the road.

So we're staying home. Sir D's going to pick up some Take Out. I'm going to open a nice bottle of wine (and by nice I mean cheap) and we're going to watch whatever movie the kids requested from Netflix. I think Ironman.

Hi. My name is Tricia and I'm an Old Married Person. (and I love it!)

Sometimes I Even Frighten Myself

I've been blogging for a while now, close to two years in fact. I have learned a few things along the way about the technical side of blogging. Like how to change the look of my blog and how to strike through the things I sorta meant didn't mean for you to read, how to italicize and bold and direct you elsewhere, etc. I have even figured how to create my own header!

But I learned something today that made me feel dumb. It's been there, staring me in the face during the whole blogging adventure and I just figured it out.

See, I like to comment on others blogs. I like to ask questions or just see what others have to say. Once I leave a comment, I often check the blog several times to see what others have said. I feel a little weird, like a bloggy stalker. But how else are you supposed to know what everyone else said? I have often thought they should have some sort of notification system like the do when the blog has a new post. They could even send it to my email.

Kinda like this.



How long has that been there? No, don't tell me. I don't really want to know.

Some things I take very seriously.

Last night Sir D and I had to make a run. We had an addiction to feed. For some this might mean making a trip to the corner store for cigarettes and for others it might mean heading on down to the beer store for a 6 pack.

Not for Sir D and I. We occasionally give in to our cravings and head on down to the Tom Thumb for Häagen-Dazs.

For me the choice is easy. I get this…



Every. Time.

I used to only get Chocolate Chocolate Chip. But no longer. My former love has been replaced by Chocolate Peanut Butter. I thought I would always be faithful to Chocolate Chocolate Chip, but the grass was so much greener on the Chocolate Peanut Butter side. I have strayed and I’ve never gone back. And I am unrepentant in my new ice cream allegiance.

You see I take my Häagen-Dazs allegiances very seriously. Not so with Sir D. He has no allegiance. He simply walks into the store, looks around, and then chooses whatever flavor or brand strikes his fancy at the time. Shockingly cavalier attitude, I know.

While Sir D was reading the contents of every container of ice cream in the freezer section I noticed something new, something odd in the freezer section. Something that was not there before.

Doggie Ice cream.

I do not jest.



I took a photo because I was afraid you would not believe me.



Doggie Ice cream. Really.

Thank You For Your Service Mr. and Mrs. Bush, and Welcome Home.

Today my children and I sat around the TV watching history in the making. I was awed. I was proud of my country.

I did not vote for Obama. Obama’s ideologies and mine differ greatly. In fact there is little we agree on. He is, however, my president and I respect the office greatly.

The thing that made me proud today oddly enough, was not the fact that we elected a black man, but the fact that a change of power occurred at all. I personally can’t wait for the day that we elect a man or a woman and little or nothing is said about their heritage other than for the sake of general interest, because it matters so little what color or gender they are. The only thing that matters is if they are the person for the job.

Ann asked me as we were watching Bush and Obama walk out of the doors to the White House together and get into the limo, “If Bush wanted to, could he stop the inauguration? He is still president.” she added.

Will said, “No he can’t stop it. While he is President, he is not King.”

I think that is the beauty of the democratic process. The drafters of the Constitution were somehow able to see into the future and lay the foundations for a Government that was bigger than its leader. Two powers, diametrically opposed and yet the transfer of power is so seamless.

While this is my normal, this is the only type of leadership I have ever known, it is not the norm around the world. There is instance after instance showing us men who get into power and the power corrupts them, goes to their heads, causes them to lose all perspective. They become dictators.

The countries of Congo and Zimbabwe and Haiti come to mind.

But not my country. In my country the people really do get to choose, for better or for worse, who is their leader.

When I sat there with my children and watched Former President George Bush hug the now First Lady Michelle Obama, the camera panned in close to his face and I could read his lips as he said to her his parting words.

“You’ll have the time of your life. I promise.” And he and his wife smiled at the Obama's, hugged them and boarded the helicopter to head home to Texas.

I watched as the Obama’s and the Biden’s stood on the steps of the White House and waved as the chopper headed out over Washington D.C. and I felt really, really proud of my country.



Not one shot was fired, not one person was killed. No one was sent off to some unknown jail or exiled from their country. The leader of one of the most powerful nations on earth simply got into his helicopter and flew away, his job completed, leaving the next President ready and waiting to step into the job. These two men, so very different in every way from color to generation to ideologies to governmental parties, and yet when the time came to hand over the reins of government, it was done honorably with a handshake, and a wave.




God Bless America.

Fairmont Fairies

I spent the weekend at a hotel with my aunt. The Fairmont Hotel in Downtown Dallas to be exact. We spent Friday night chatting and watching an extremely overpriced movie. We could have gone to the movie for the price we paid for that movie, but probably not in our pj’s so I guess it was okay.

On Saturday, my sister and her daughter (my niece), my other aunt and her daughter (my cousin), and the little guy in my cousin’s tummy all came to the hotel to hang out with us. I hesitate to mention the little guy in my cousin’s tummy because he did not contribute much to the conversation, but we were all happy to have him there none the less, even though it was a girls day. But I digress.

Once we all were together we hiked the block to the Museum with the Tut exhibit. The Tut exhibit was what you would expect. It was cool. It was old. It was crowded. There was culture. There was history. I loved it.

But here is the amazing thing. This is the thing that left me speechless and awed.

When we came back to the hotel…some sort of cleaning fairy had swept in and restored everything to order. The coffee had been replenished. The wet, dirty towels had miraculously been replaced with fresh folded ones. The beds had been made, the pillows had been fluffed, and the floors had been vacuumed.

It was like magic.

I checked online because I know The Fairmont sells many of their items. For instance, their body soap and shampoo were fabulous and I was tempted to buy some, but I did not. I was put off by the $100 a bottle price tag. Know what I would have paid $100 for? One of those Fairmont Cleaning Fairies.

Anyone know where I can get one? They didn’t sell them online.

Giblets ain't just for making gravy.

Sir D and I went last night to do our qualifying on the range. We already passed the written portion of the CHL classes, and all that was left was the shooting portion. I must say I was a bit nervous. I knew I could hit the target enough times to acquire the points needed to pass, but I was unsure if I could do it while The Rangemaster guy was yelling out instructions and looking over my shoulder. I don’t do well under pressure.

When we got there we were planning to do one more round of practice and then take the test. The Rangemaster said not to do that, our hands would get tired, just to do the test. “You’re either ready or you’re not.” Words of wisdom from The Rangemaster.

So we did it.

I was a bit nervous at first, but The Rangemaster was very nice and even gave me some tips when he saw my aim was heading south (literally) and it pulled it right back up.

In the end, I scored a 246 out of a possible 250. All 50 rounds hit the target and only one went really low on the target. That was the first shot at 15 yards, the farthest point you have to shoot.

I was really proud of myself and the guys at the range were joking about wondering how I’d do when I wasn’t nervous.

Sir D also did very well. He scored 3 points less than me. I felt a little bad for him because the guys at the range wouldn’t let him forget he’d been beaten by a girl. In fact, I believe The Rangemaster said that if we ever find out selves in a situation where we need to pull the weapon, he should hand it to me and he should be the one calling 911. Sir D handled it well, was very happy for my success, and reminded me he was qualifying with a type of gun he’d never shot before. Surely that was worth three points.

And on a much more refined and intellectual note, my sister, niece, cousin, aunt and myself are going to see the Tut exhibit tomorrow. I am really looking forward to it. We’re making a weekend of it. My aunt is coming to get me around noon and we are going to lunch and shopping then to a hotel near the museum. Then we’ll meet up with my sister, cousin and niece for a day of Tutting and a nice dinner out with the men in attendance after. Odd that the men were only interested in the meal and not the museum. Hummm?

I am looking forward to this weekend. After spending all this time at the gun range, I feel I need a little edification lest I start chewing, cussing and/or using words like ‘giblets’ when referring to where my low shot bullet would have hit an actual person.

Ahem.

I need some culture.

Getting Honest

I admit to you all that I am finding the teen years a little bit tricky. I am wading in unfamiliar waters. I am a bit adrift.

When I found out I was pregnant with Will, I read everything I could get my hands on about pregnancy and babies and toddlers. I soaked it all in. I learned. I prepared. I knew what to do.

When Will reached school age, I read up on all options; homeschool, public school, private school and everything in between. I made informed decisions based on all the information I obtained.

But the teen years? I am finding them somewhat confusing. There are many Christin people, 'experts' if you will, who have advice but so much of it is conflicting. I guess this was the case with all the info on how to raise babies, but I don't know, so much of taking care of my babies was intuitive to me. I just seemed to feel what was good advice and what was bad.

I don't have that intuitive feeling with the teens. I feel like I am doing it all wrong, honestly. I feel like my years to teach, train, and love my children are coming to a quick end and I don't feel like I have done it right.

I'm feeling a little overwhelmed at the 'how to's' of parenting really, for the first time in my life.

So that was my state of mind when I read this, by Sally Clarkson. She is so eloquent and encouraging.

Go on over there. Read this. You'll feel better.

Dead Center, My Friends!

Sir D and I went shooting last night. It was fun. It was really fun. I haven’t gone shooting since I was a teenager. Apparently it is a lot like riding a bike. In fact it was more like riding a bike than riding a bike. I got a new bike a few years ago and that did not come immediately back. The balance, she ain’t what she used to be. But the shooting? I’m all over that!



See all those holes in the black, dead center of the target? Totally mine! Okay, Sir D got some in there too. Okay, Sir D got a lot of them in there too. So while I may not be a better shot than Sir D, I am just as good. And that is important, you know, in case things head south and come to a shootout between us. Ha! I kid.

The point is I have to take the shooting test soon. I am quite nervous about the shooting test. I don’t doubt my ability to get the pointy sharp things through the paper in the correct spots, but I do doubt my ability to do this while instructions are being yelled at me (because of the ear protection you have to wear) telling me how many shots to fire and how long I have to fire them and at what distance. And there will be all the, READY!...AIM!...FIRE!...CEACE FIRE! And whatnot.

Have I mentioned being yelled at, and watched, makes me a little nervous? I am a bad tester. I can’t take the pressure in a classroom when my tool is only a pencil and paper. How much more nervous will I be if I am using a weapon?

The instructor did mention that I need to be able to perform these tasks while he is yelling at me. If he makes me nervous, how am I going to feel if I encounter an actual bad guy? Yeah, that sounds all good and well, but it’s faulty logic. I am counting on that fight or flight, desire to survive at all cost, instinct to kick in and guide me. That will not be the case in a nice safe gun range, now will it?

Perhaps I should think how embarrassing it will be if Sir D passes the test and I don’t. I’ll probably die of embarrassment. Perhaps I shall think on that. Maybe that will incite that survive-at-all-cost instinct and I'll be able to get the little pointy things through the black portion of the paper.

Remember, we used to be our own country.

I had quite a wild day yesterday. I’ll admit that sometimes, as a stay at home, homeschooling mother, I lose touch with the outside world. You don’t realize it is happening, you just go on about your merry way until something snaps you back to reality. Life is not the nice little cozy, clean, orderly, well mannered place that you’ve created (OKAY, are trying to create) at home.

There are people out there who are, shall we say, different.

I spent the day at the local gun range, taking the class to get my CHL. For those of you not from around these parts, that stands for Concealed Handgun License. Yesterday was the classroom portion. I spent from 8 am (YES! 8AM on a Saturday!) to 7:30 pm in this classroom.



This is not a new facility. This facility has been smoked in since its creation and even though it is now illegal to smoke in it you can still barley breath in there. The air is heavy with the smell of 50 years of smoke. The yellowing walls are plastered with every imaginable gun related poster. It was fascinating.

But even more fascinating than the environment were the people. There were about 25 people in my class and another 10 in a separate class to renew their licenses. The races were pretty equally mixed and representative of our area. 7 or 8 black people, 9 or 10 white people, 6 or 7 Hispanics. Of the black people, there were professionals, a grandma, a couple young college students and one kid that looked like a gangbanger with his saggy pants and hoodie. I sat next to him for a while early on.

Of the white people it was about the same, a few professional looking men, Sir D and I, one other middle age couple, and 5 redneck friends. I am sorry to be prejudice, but there is no other term for these gentlemen. They were all friends and sat at a table together across for where Sir D and I were sitting. They all had camo cargo pants on, hoodies with T’s advertising ammo or beer under them, and ball caps. I couldn’t resist surreptitiously snapping a photo of one of their ball caps during a break. Can you read it?



Here is a closer view.



Yes my friends, it says ‘Killing Machine’. Turns out, this guy is a Marine Reservist. And this was his hat. And, after listening to his comments with his buddies and in the class, it is also his life’s motto. Soon this man will be legally carrying a firearm. I pity the bad guys this guy encounters. Also, see the Pepsi bottle behind the hat? At one time it did indeed contain Pepsi. It now contains the chewing tobacco this gentleman chewed and spit out into this container during the class. Right across from me. I got to watch it drip down the inside of that clear Pepsi container for the better part of 10 hours.

I must say here that while I did learn some very important things concerning the legality and safety issues regarding carrying a concealed weapon, I think I learned more about human nature.

I would not classify myself as a prejudice person, but we all make immediate judgments on a person upon our first contact with them. For instance, there was a very nice Lexus in the parking lot. I assumed it belonged to one of the white, well dressed businessmen. It did not. It in fact, belonged to one of the middle aged black men wearing casual clothes that appeared to me to be of the Wal-mart variety (I should know).

The sweet little old grandma? She was downright frightening. Part of me hopes she does not pass. She’s ready to shoot anyone who looks at her cross-eyed. The pudgy Hispanic guy, and the non descript 60 year old white haired man? They were the best shots in the place. Dead center, every time!

But this one is the best. I love this part. On the written test, of 50 questions that you must pass after the course (along with a shooting test) only two people got a 100 percent. Know who they were? Not the Marine. Not the redneck hunter guys. Not even the best shots in the class.

It was me, and the gangbanger with his saggy pants and hoodie. Who by the way, turned out to be a very well mannered college student.

Also, I worked on my crocheting all through the class. Got a lot done too. I wonder how many times the instructor has seen a slightly pudgy, white, homeschooling suburban mom show up for her CHL, crochet her way through the class, then ace it with a 100 percent.

We’re just blowing stereotypes out of the water down her in TX. But don’t tick us off, apparently a lot of us are armed.

Oh, and the 5 redneck guys? Well, unfortunately, they were exactly as they seemed. 5 Rednecks; chewing, spitting, cussing and now legally packing heat.

5 Killing Machines, released onto the streets of Texas. It’s starting to feel a little like Tombstone in these parts.

Still Here...

Just popping in to tell you I have not dropped off the face of the earth. I have just been swallowed up by the teenagers. Of course, teenager #1 had surgery on Tuesday and is still in a significant amount of pain. He really just sits around watching ESPN and watching the clock for the next time he can take pain meds. Poor kid. Hopefully today will be less painful. He has not woken up yet today. I don’t know if that is a good sign that he is resting well, or a bad sign that he had a bad night. We’ll see when he emerges from the sick room.

The Other Teenager had a computer crash and most of last semester’s assignments for his Co op science class were stored there. Everything is due today so we’ve been heavily immerse in Earth Science. I hated Earth Science when I had to take it myself and have found age did not improve upon it. I still hate it.

His teacher was very merciful when she heard of our computer crash and Will's accident. (She is Will’s Advanced Biology teacher too.) She is a nurse and has 7 children herself, so The Emergency is nothing new to her.

Now I get to go drop off the three younger kids at Co op and go to the Wal-Mart to buy groceries. Also, I look like Hagatha and will probably remain that way, as I decided to blog instead of shower. You should feel good. Apparently I love my cyber friends more than those who have to smell see me today.

It's not the Bahamas, but it'll do.

I know you have all probably seen this already. It has been viewed by a gazillion people, but I put it here anyway.

I had not seen it before and Bob sent it to me. I laughed my head off. Seriously. I have watched it three times and I laugh hysterically every time.

I really needed a good laugh today!

Calgon where are you?

We started some school today. So far, it is not going well. Bob and Will had to go off and do his pre-Op stuff. I stayed home to do school with the girls.

It seems that Eve has become a grumpy teenager who does not like most everything and Ann has forgotten everything she has ever learned pertaining to math.

Will left a great deal of Science Co Op homework (due on Thursday) for this week. He is going to be unable to get most of it done because of the whole one hand thing, not to mention the mind altering (they make him GRUMPY!) pain meds and surgery . I am having a hard time feeling sorry for him. Procrastination is a big issue for him.

I refuse to jump through hoops because he can’t get it together! (Can you tell this is an ongoing issue?) I keep trying to explain to him that when we continually run our lives with no margin built in, we seem to always be running in emergency mode.

Emergency mode exhausts me!

Bob lost many of his labs during the great computer swap we experienced over the holidays. These labs were supposed to be turned in to the same science teacher Will has. That is going to be a fun conversation.

Will’s surgery is tomorrow at 2. He can’t eat or drink anything after midnight tonight. I’m not sure how he’s going to take his pain medicine or antibiotic. I’m sure that is going to make him even grumpier.

I want a vacation.

I want to go to the Bahamas.

Oh, and to add insult to injury, today I was given some idea of how much this whole accident is going to cost...lets just say I could be sipping drinks from a coconut with an mini umbrella in it on a nice beach for about the same price.

How Many Things Can We Break in 09?

Wonder what that picture is? That is the picture of money...burning. The One Handed Teenager dropped his laptop and now it looks like that.



I think the chances are good it is forever dead.

The One Handed Teenager will be starting an English Composition 2 at the Community College on the 20th using only his non-dominant hand and no laptop.

No, this is not a trick.

The One Handed Wonder is getting expensive.

He's a Little Broken

We’ve had another little incident here on the Hilltop. This cliché is getting well, cliché, but it’s never a dull moment around here.

Will and Bob were diligently working on their Uncle’s rock wall when a rock got away from them and landed on Will’s hand. And when I say rock, really I mean boulder as it was somewhere in the 300 pound range.

I am told that Bob managed to get his hand loose but Will was not quite fast enough. The other version of that story is that someone let go and the rock/boulder fell on someone else. I mentioned to someone, when he suggested this, that it was okay and it was just a freak accident. Someone replied, “Yeah, he’s the freak and I had the accident!” We all laughed uproariously, and a nurse popped her head into the ER room to make sure we’d not all been sharing in the happy juice they gave the patient.

We managed to get in and out of the ER in less than 4 hours which was miraculous, or a result of being at the upscale, ritzy ER near my SIL’s house and not the local Parkland extension we have down here on our end of town. I then stopped by BIL and SIL’s house to pick up Will’s stuff and leave Bob to have his turn at blunt force trauma work some more.

Will and I headed home from there and when we got home I made a few phone calls to try to locate a Orthopedic Hand Specialist in our area. I was not surprised to learn that there is such a specialization as we visited one last time Will broke a finger.

Because the Lord is merciful, the Dr.’s office said we could come in right then. Yes you read that right. RIGHT THEN. It was truly an amazing thing. We hotfooted it over to the Dr.’s office with all our ER paperwork and X-rays on CD (how cool is that?).

The Dr. took one look at his sad mangled hand and said ‘Wow, that’s bad”. Lovely. Not the kind of comment you want to hear from a Hand Specialist. Don’t they see this stuff every day? And that was before he even saw the X-rays.

Once he saw the X-rays he began to mutter things like ‘interesting’ and ‘bad’ and ‘Humm, that won’t work…maybe if we…no.’ ‘Humm.’ Yeah, it was not very comforting.

It seems that the bone in his middle finger, from the first knuckle from the tip, to the tip of the finger was broken…into 4 pieces. The growth plate was broken in two and the bone from the knuckle to the tip was split down the middle, vertically. He said normally they would but a pin down the middle of the finger to hold the growth plate together, but since his finger is also broken down the middle, they couldn’t do that. He knew he would have to surgically put the bones back together, but he was unsure how he was going to accomplish that. Surgery has been scheduled for Tuesday.

It is somewhat disconcerting to have a Dr. tell you he’s going to do surgery, but he’s not sure exactly how he’s going to do it. Oh, he also broke a bone in the tip of his index finger, but that will heal on its own, splinted as it is, next to the other broken one. He will also lose both fingernails. Oh, and he had a few stitches put in somewhere on one of those fingers. Needless to say his hand looks a little mangled and is quite useless. Yes, I know what you are all thinking now; right or left hand. Right, I am sorry to say. Guess who will be taking A LOT of dictation for Will once his English Composition class at the Community College starts.

I personally feel like it was a whole lot of bother just to get out of building Uncle’s rock/boulder wall and doing a few chores around the house.

And now for the pictures…if you’re squeamish, now would be a good time to look away.

In A Word (this time with the pictures I forgot)

Instead of making a resolution this year, I am choosing a word. A word to hopefully define the growth I want to see in ’09.

We spent the evening last night at Bent's house with Dan's crew also in attendance. Just think lots of cousins running amok and lots of loud laughter and fun. And gun cleaning and card playing, because we live in Texas and that’s what we do.

So after the clock hit 10pm we toasted in the New Year and announced our resolutions. We did this at 10 because we were ringing in the New Year with Nova Scotia, because we were all tired and wanted to go to bed and Nova Scotia rings in the New Year before anyone else on this continent. The little kids didn’t really care, or get it, and it just perpetuated the idea to the teenagers how dorky we adults are.


Here are the younger cousins toasting in the New Year with Sparkling Cider.


This is what the younger cousins thought of the Sparkling Cider. I guess we don't have to worry about underage drinking with this crew. They can't even handle cider.



Here are The Teenagers wondering how they got so unlucky as to be born into such a dorky family.



There were many good resolutions this year. Dave suggested he wanted to figure out how to earn more and work less. (I’m for that one), Dan, said he resolved to run a race this year. (Ambitious words from a man still on a crutch) Rachel said she wanted to drink more water, someone else said they would like to spend less, Bryce suggested he will resolve to become a mature adult (the adult part is unavoidable being that he will turn 18 in Aug, the mature part I guess is questionable).

Gunnar resolved to read the bible more, Evelyn said she will try to be a better sister, Annika said she will endeavor to keep her room cleaner…and it went on similarly, around the family.

Know what I said? Nothing. I didn’t want to tell everyone my word for ’09. Somehow after all those lofty things I felt silly saying it.

So on the way home I mentioned to Dave that I didn’t want to tell everyone, but in ’09 I resolve to be more courageous.

I believe he laughed. Loudly.

I have a long way to go.

In a Word...

Instead of making a resolution this year, I am choosing a word. A word to hopefully define the growth I want to see in ’09.

We spent the evening last night at Bent's house with Dan's family also in attendance. Just think lots of cousins running amuck and lots of loud laughter and fun. And gun cleaning and card playing, because we live in Texas and that’s what we do.

So after the clock hit 10pm we announced our resolutions. We did this at 10 because we were ringing in the New Year with Nova Scotia, because we were all tired and wanted to go to bed and Nova Scotia rings in the New Year before anyone else on this continent. The little kids didn’t really care, or get it, and it just perpetuated the idea to the teenagers how dorky we adults are.

There were many good ones. Dave suggested he wanted to figure out how to earn more and work less. (I’m for that one), Dan, said he resolved to run a race this year. (Ambitious words from a man still on a crutch) Rachel said she wanted to drink more water, someone else said they would like to spend less, Bryce suggested he will resolve to become a mature adult (the adult part is unavoidable being that he will turn 18 in Aug, the mature part I guess is questionable).

Gunnar resolved to read the bible more, Evelyn said she will try to be a better sister, Annika said she will endeavor to keep her room cleaner…and it went on similarly, around the family.

Know what I said? Nothing. I didn’t want to tell everyone my word for ’09. Somehow after all those lofty things I felt silly saying it.

So on the way home I mentioned to Dave that I didn’t want to tell everyone, but in ’09 I resolve to be more courageous.

I believe he laughed. Loudly.

I have a long way to go.