My Room

Earth Day 2.0

2009-05-03T10:15:00.010-05:00

Saturday we spent the day hiking at Hoffmaster State Park with Racie and Dan, and then the four of us went to House to watch Planet Earth and have dinner with Miranda. It was a great day.

Christine and I spent the morning making white chili and guacamole for dinner, then we headed over to Miranda's to plug in the crock pot and meet up with Racie and Dan. Being us, we took the scenic route.

The only person I know who is more directionally challenged than I am is my spouse, and she makes the same claim. As she was driving, I told her that I knew a better way to get to Racie and Dan's than the route we usually take. So we passed the exit we took all last summer due to roadwork, and when we hit the next one, we got off the highway. Only for Christine to exclaim, "We're not going to Racie and Dan's!" So we turned around to get back onto the highway, only to get on going in the direction we had just come from, and because nice weather in Grand Rapids means 131 shuts down, we couldn't get off and turn around until we were almost back where we started from.

So I called Dan to tell him we were running late, only for him to tell me that they were also running late. We finally parked in front of House within seconds of each other.

Dan graciously drove so that they could get an annual pass for their car once we got to the park. Conversation on the way was lively and interesting as usual. I'll spare you the details since this isn't the blog where I welcome debate.

As we neared the park, we passed an ice cream store with a sign that said:

Happy Hour

2-5

Ice Cream

2 for 1

It was nearly two, but we figured we'd be more in the mood for ice cream after hiking, so we pressed on.

The weather was beautiful, and we hiked two of the trails, one to the dunes and the other along a boardwalk with nearly 500 stairs. I usually count stairs, but I lost track. Back at the visitors' center, we saw polliwogs and snakes and taxidermy animals. It was very much as I remember it when my family used to visit on a weekly basis.

On the way home, we stopped for ice cream, only to discover that the bottom line of the sign had been changed to "Sandwiches $1." What a load. But we bought ice cream anyway, and not in sandwich form.

Back at House, the chili smelled amazing, and we watched several episodes of Planet Earth while enjoying chips and guacamole, which turned out surprisingly well for my just throwing together what I thought sounded good. I'm glad I'm getting to the point where I can trust my food instincts.

I slept unbelievably well last night. I'm not used to so much exercise, but I hope to one day say that's no longer true.

Monday, Monday

2009-04-27T21:34:00.002-05:00

Today at work was a day of computer issues punctuated by meetings. Not fun. I'd love to go into detail, but unfortunately, somebody reading would surely know the person I complained about or lampooned mercilessly, so I will simply leave it as I hate meetings, and I prefer for my software to work the way I need it to. But given the state of the economy, I am happy to have a job at all, especially one that I can (for the most part) leave at the office.

I also appreciate that my job can be done while listening to audiobooks, which is how I connect my current work life with my degree in English. A few weeks ago, I started listening to Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. Having just read (and loved) Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food, I thought this would be a good follow up. And I'm sure it would be. Unfortunately, the book was read by the author, and while I've heard she's a great writer, she is not a great narrator. So I gave up and brought the book home and asked Christine to return it to the library (she was studying there on a regular basis -- she is not simply my book courier). When she got to the library, she noticed that the first CD was missing and asked me to bring it home from work.

I didn't have it at work. Neither did I have it in the car, in my backpack, or in the case of any other audiobook. Now, in addition to my overdue book fines' single-handedly making up for my library branch's shamefully low funding (I would support a candidate who wanted to raise taxes for libraries and museums, but that's not a popular platform right now), I have had to purchase two books in as many years due to water damage (I carry them to work in my backpack with my coffee thermos and water bottle). So far they have been books that I liked, so it seemed worth it to me, but I was now faced with having to purchase most of an audiobook whose narrator made me want to eat my own head. And I had nowhere else to look for that disc.

When our department's IT guy finished installing the correct software on my computer, I remembered that my computer had been reimaged last week. I recalled the IT office at college and how the shelves were always full of CDs and DVDs that students had left in their computers when they turned them in or had them fixed. So I e-mailed the IT guy and asked, on the off chance, if my CD could possibly have gotten mixed up in some of the software used on my computer. His reply seemed a bit defensive (I realize that I should have stated more explicitly that I do not think anyone in IT would maliciously steal one disc of an audiobook about sustainable agriculture), and he said that he had not worked on my computer in quite a while before today. I replied, conceding his point, and admitted that he was the only IT person whose name I knew, and so might he know who reimaged my computer?

Five minutes later he showed up at my desk with disc one of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. I could have kissed him. Well, not without losing my job, but whatever. I thanked him profusely and threw the disc into my backpack. I'm sure it's a great book, but Barabara Kingsolver certainly has a voice made for print.

I can wholeheartedly recommend In Defense of Food, however, including the narrator, Scott Brick. As you may have noticed from previous blogs, Christine and I are very interested in real, sustainable, and organic food. In the next couple of weeks, the farmers' market will be opening and, we'll be buying a share in a CSA. I look forward to updating this blog with our culinary adventures.

And while I don't have any pictures, tonight's dinner was a sandwich on the homemade rolls with cheddar cheese, avocado spread, lettuce, alfalfa sprouts, mayonnaise, and Dijon mustard. It was quite tasty.

Sunday

2009-04-26T20:09:00.007-05:00

Day two of my return to the Blogosphere. Today was a good day, and I'd like to note it for posterity's sake.

Last night we slept with the window open, listening to the storm. I love the sound of rain, especially at night. When I was younger, whenever a storm came through, I'd sit on the porch with my parents and watch it. The neighbors across the street did the same, and we'd Ooh and Ahh over the particularly bright flashes of lightening and loud peals of thunder. Growing up in a poor neighborhood, we took our excitement where we could find it. Although I wouldn't have traded those evenings on the porch for any number of video game consoles.

I awoke around 9:00 and realized that the room was freezing. That's because at 9:00 my wife woke up and informed me that it was freezing. It's a service she provides for me, knowing how much I hate to wake up on my own time and realize for myself what the temperature of the apartment is. So she got up to do yoga (which is a Japanese word meaning, "You put the dog out; I'm busy sitting on the floor") and I got up to play Settlers of Catan online.

For breakfast Christine made polenta with butter and vanilla which we enjoyed with coffee (espresso for me, Americano for Christine). It was delicious. After breakfast, I put together rolls for dinner. As I was playing my second game of Settlers while the dough was rising, my brother (hereafter referred to as "Evan") called to invite me to my sister's (Dana's) for lunch. I told him I could be there when my rolls were done at around 1:30, and he said he'd confirm with Dana and call back to let me know what I could bring. He never called back, so I didn't bring anything.

After game three the rolls were glazed and ready to go into the oven. The recipe made too many to fit on one baking sheet, so I got out two smaller sheets. One of the smaller sheets had been put away dirty. Does this happen to anyone else? No amount of scrubbing could remove what I believe was congealed olive oil, so I resolved to use the large sheet and one smaller sheet. The problem was that the large baking sheet and the small baking sheet did not fit into the oven at the same time, which meant the large pan of rolls would come out of the oven five minutes before I had to be to Dana's and the next batch would be done fifteen minutes after I left. My wife, who stayed home to grade college English papers today, graciously agreed to take them out when they were done. I had time to split one roll from the first batch with her (they were awesome) before I left.

At Dana's I was greeted by my nephew, who smiled at me but refused to talk, and my niece, who extended her arms and demanded, "Up!" to everyone except me. Perhaps I need to babysit more often. My brother-in-law (Daryl) and soon to be sister-in-law (Kara) were there as well. We had tacos, chips and queso, and cheesecake for dessert. We discussed wedding plans, the hypocritical political positions our acquaintances hold, and whether Kara or my cousin Chris had worse taste in movies. Chris arrived shortly thereafter, and we never did settle the debate. Daryl was in another room watching the Tigers vs. the Royals, which I realized with some dismay was a sporting event, not great cats mauling European monarchs.

After lunch, I kept suggesting a game of Settlers of Catan, which got a tepid response, so when Evan and Chris went outside to "have a catch," I left to run some errands. We had run out of the organic dog food we started buying when we realized we love our dog (Lily) and probably shouldn't be feeding her sawdust and reconstituted fish bits. She loves it and has much more energy and much less body mass. It also make her obnoxiously regular. I'm grateful that we live on a ground floor apartment, but picking up a bag of poo in my pajamas is not how I want to greet the world every morning.

I got home shortly before Christine who was taking a break by doing the weekly grocery shopping (I've done it the last three weeks in a row and was just plain not going to do it today). I did help bring in groceries, including oil which I needed to make mayonnaise, and we made dinner together.

Dinner tonight was portabella mushroom burgers on the aforementioned homemade rolls, topped with caramelized onions, feta cheese, artisan lettuce, homemade mayonnaise, and Dijon mustard with roasted potatoes. It was delicious. While we ate, we watched the Mystery Science Theater 3000 episode Merlin's Shop of Mystical Wonders. Now Christine is on the couch sleeping off a migraine, and I am playing my fifth game of Settlers of Catan and enjoying my two-day writing streak. Soon I must wash dishes, hang up my work clothes, and go to bed.

It's been a good weekend.

I'm back. Let's see how long it lasts.

2009-04-25T21:09:00.004-05:00

My New Year's resolution this year was to write more. The year is nearly a quarter over, and so far, I am not meeting that goal. I've had several people ask me if I'm writing, and I am writing this to let them know that no, I am not.

I was very prolific in college, but since then, I haven't written much more than a Facebook status or a response to a meme. The reasons for this are, 1. in college I got paid to write. Not much, but the satisfaction of writing things I knew my readers wouldn't read otherwise made up for that somewhat, and 2. in college I had deadlines.

When I was assigned a paper in college, I immediately began thinking about what I would write. I thought about it constantly, yes, even when it looked like I was just watching TV and eating grilled cheese sandwiches and French fries out of a to-go box (that was a great semester). Then the night before the paper was due, I would sit down and write it. It never turned out the way I expected it to, but it was usually good.

Now, no one pays me, and I don't have deadlines. Several people have offered to set deadlines for me, but the problem is that if I failed to meet their deadlines, nothing would happen. I wouldn't forfeit payment or waste my tuition. I'd just say, "I didn't meet the deadline," and nothing else in my life would change.

I do, however, see a light on the horizon. I'm not getting paid to write this, and it's not due at any time. But I wrote it. And I like it. I'm gonna chase this feeling.

This sucks

2007-08-03T11:43:00.000-05:00

I know I keep saying I'm back and then disappearing for months at a time, but the stuff that's going on doesn't seem worth writing about.

We moved into our new apartment a month ago, and since then, both the job leads that seemed so promising when we moved led nowhere. I had done two phone interviews and one face-to-face with each. One e-mailed me five minutes before 5:00 on Friday to say that they wanted someone with more marketing experience. Did they expect me to have picked some up between the first and third interview?

I did get a job at Cornerstone for a week, though not the one I originally applied for. I was an RA at the journalism institute. I had a lot of fun, but didn't make much money (why is it that the jobs that require you to work the longest always seem to pay the least?). The last time I took temporary work at a camp, I broke my leg, so this time was much more successful (although worker's comp sounds pretty good right about now...).

I spent the week with high schoolers who had chosen to spend a week of their summer at a writing camp, so i was pretty much in my element. We played Egyptian ratscrew (which I of course won), talked about Harry Potter (all I really want to talk about right now), and I was able to offer advice for college (don't major in English if you want a job).

When I'm not applying to jobs, I've been doing a lot of cooking. We had an awesome cream of mushroom soup last night made from baby portabellas. I'm also rereading the Harry Potter series. I just finished Goblet of Fire and hour ago. I realized while reading book seven that I couldn't remember a thing about book six (probably because I was hopped up on Vicodin when it came out), so rather than just reread book six, I am reading the entire series. I am trying to do so quickly to absorb the entire story rather than having it broken up into sections. If you enjoy good stories of any kind, I cannot recommend the Harry Potter books highly enough.

Well, that's all from me for now.

How are you?

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

2007-05-10T13:41:00.000-05:00

I have been too long away from the blogosphere, relegating my brief posts, friend comments, and inane video to exclusive online clubs such as MySpace and Facebook, and even those contributions have been few and far between. You may remember when not a day went by that I didn't contribute something to these cyber pages. That was when I was in England, studying what I loved and enjoying (most of) the culture surrounding me. Somehow, living in a basement and working at a bank has made me less prolific in my blogging.

My life is about to change, however, and during times of transition, I reach out to the blogging community... or my parents, their blog friends, and a few Europeans who still occassionally check to see if maybe I'm not as boring anymore. After two years in Illinois, Christine and I will be returning to the G.R. (don't call it that), Grand Rapids, MI, my hometown and the city where Christine and I met.

We began considering a return about a month ago. Christine was very stressed out with graduate school, and I suggested she take a year off to recharge. In that same conversation, Christine mentioned that the university we had attended in Grand Rapids was hiring a writer/editor. I pursued the job, Christine deferred her admission into Northern Illinois University's doctoral program, and we made plans to move to Grand Rapids for a year.

While I was waiting to hear back about the job, Christine was offered a funded position at Western Michigan University. After days of deliberation, she accepted the position. After weeks of being jerked around, I learned that the job I was pursuing was offered to someone else. You really have to question the value of your degree when you can't get a job doing what you're trained to do at the university that trained you to do it.

We plan to move back to Grand Rapids in June, which means looking for a place to live and getting a new job in the next couple of weeks. We could use a lot of prayer, and if you have any leads on proofreading or copy-editing positions, please let me know. I don't want to work at a bank anymore.

A Meme from My Mom

2007-02-11T20:32:00.000-06:00

My mom mentioned that she wanted me to post this one because I was Home Schooled.

Year of High School Graduation - 1999. And I partied like it was.

1. Who was your best friend?
Steve Rodenburg.

2. What sports did you play?
Looney Tunes Basketball on my Super Nintendo.

3. What kind of car did you drive?
I didn't get my license until I was 19, but then I drove a Mercury Tracer wagon.

4. It's Friday night, where were you?
Cast party.

5. Were you a party animal?
I went to a lot of Youth Group all-nighters, where I would often select the movies. I believe I was single-handedly responsible for the guidelines that only educational movies could be shown at church functions.

6. Where you in the "In Crowd"?
I was the coolest kid in my graduating class.

7. Ever skip school?
Only to go to my full-time job.

8. Ever smoke?
In High School? No.

9. Were you a nerd?
I was the biggest nerd in my graduating class.

10. Did you get suspended/expelled?
I lost TV privileges once in a while.

11. Can you sing the alma mater?
I'm not fluent enough in Latin to know what that means, but if it's referring to the fight song, it was I Want It All by Queen. I don't think I realized it was a gay rights anthem when I chose it. It is now featured in a Dr Pepper commercial. Take that, Wyoming Park High School.

12. Who was your favorite teacher?
My mom.

13. Favorite Class?
Going to the library to decide what to learn. One day I decided to read a classic book a week. I selected Silas Marner. When I met my mom at check out, she had had the same idea and picked another copy of the same book! Weird. She read it; I didn't. She didn't enjoy it, but she's glad she read it.

What was your school's full name?
Haskill School for Brilliant Teenagers and Their Whiny Little Sisters.

15. School Mascot?
Flying Fox.

16. Did you go to Prom?
Yes, I took my sister, my parents chaperoned. No, the answer is no.

17. If you could go back and do it over, would you?
I enjoyed most of it, but no.

18. What do you remember most about graduation?
That my life did not change significantly.

19. Favorite memory of your senior year?
Nothing comes to mind.

20. Were you ever posted on the senior wall?
I was posted on the refigerator.

21. Did you have a job your senior year?
I had a job that started the week after I graduated from 8th grade and that I quit to go to college.

22. Who did you date?
Dating kissed me goodbye.

23. Where did you go most often for lunch?
The kitchen or the breakroom at work. It was also pretty easy to talk my teacher into going for Chinese.

24. Have you gained weight since then?
Yes, but I've always been queen-sized.

25. What did you do after graduation?
Took a year off to work before college. I saved squat, but i bought a lot of cool Legos. They're in my parents basement somewhere.

Five interesting things about Buddy that you DON'T already know

2007-01-18T18:03:00.000-06:00

OK, many of you may already know them, but I read my brother's blog, and so I guess I'm tagged. Also, my wife said I need to update, which means that a nagging comment from my mom can't be too far behind. Why is my family always pestering me to write? Oh yeah, because it's my passion, and they are very supportive. What a burden it is to be blessed.

Onward!

1. I studied at Oxford. I took two tutorials, one in Victorian Gothic Literature and one in Greek Tragedy and Epic. I also took two seminars, one in Shakespeare and one in British History and Culture. The latter included several field trips, including Stratford, Portsmouth, and Canterbury. Check the archives for pics.

2. I have been to Paris, Rome, and Vienna. Whilst my wife and I were studying in Oxford, her parents came over during our travel week and took us on a whirlwind tour of Europe. We visited The Louvre and d'Orsay in Paris and Vatican City in Rome, or, more appropriately, in Vatican City. We drank amazing coffee on this vacation, which was wonderful after drinking Nescafe all the time in England. One day I had ten coffee drinks. Apparently I was pretty irritable that day.

3. For one as well travelled as I am, I consider myself a homebody. I love to spend the day reading or watching movies with my wife or playing games with friends. Game nights with my friends in Michigan were what I missed most while we were in Europe and what I continue to miss here in rural Illinois.

4. I majored in English writing. I did very well in all of my classes, but one I graduated, I found I wrote very little. I've recently realized why. When I have an assignment, I don't start writing until the night before it's due. That doesn't mean I put it off. The time before I write is spent constantly thinking about what I want to say. Then, with the pressure of a deadline, I sat down and the words poured out of me. Now that I no longer have that deadline, I've spent the last two years just thinking, and as my wife will tell you, I've thought of some great stuff. Now I just need to get disciplined, give myself deadlines, and write down the ideas that I've been formulating. To that end, today I purchased First Draft in 30 Days with a gift card my sister and brother-in-law gave me for Christmas (there's that supportive family again...). I've always been a bit of a snob when it came to such writing tools, but I've had to humble myself and realize that I who have published nothing in the past two years am in no place to judge anyone who has published a book, even if it is trite in spots. I read the introduction and feel that it will be a helpful guide for me. be sure to ask me in thirty days how my draft is going.

5. I am a trivia buff. The more useless the knowledge, the longer I'll retain it. Par exemple, I know who wrote and sang the "Cheers" theme song and that he also wrote and sang the theme song to "Punky Brewster." He and his collaborator also wrote the theme to "Mr. Belvedere." Click here to find out who. This information I will remember until the day I die, and yet, I cannot remember not to leave my giant size-14 shoes in the middle of the floor. Oh well.

That's a little bit about me. I hope you enjoyed it, at least more than you enjoy Gary Portnoy's music. It sounds like Weird Al singing Contemporary Christian music.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2006-12-11T18:15:00.000-06:00

Tomorrow is my 26th birthday. I love having my birthday in December. It fits nicely right between Thanksgiving and Christmas, making this time my favorite month of the year.

To make things even better, my birthday festivities are being stretched out over the week of my birthday. Saturday Christine and I went to dinner with several of our friends to my favorite restaurant, the Claddagh. Because that was the day we were celebrating, Christine gave me my presents when I came home from work. They included two books: The Prestige by Christopher Priest, which I spent today reading, and Evil and the Justice of God by N.T. Wright, which I spent all of yesterday reading. She also got me the DVD Dress to Kill, featuring the stand-up comedic genius of Eddie Izzard. NIU recently had a fair trade fair, and Christine bought me a black and gold foil river rock paper weight with koi and an all-natural sandalwood soap.

At dinner, I was surprised by many generous gifts from friends. Meredith presented me with The Little Mermaid two-disc special edition DVD. It is my favorite Disney movie. I saw it in the theatre when it first came out around my ninth birthday. Holy crap, that was seventeen years ago (yes, Dana, I had to use a calculator to figure that out). Elizabeth got me a Stephen King desk calendar. I love it. I shall bring it to work and scare away business. I received a Starbucks giftcard from Sarah, and dark roast Caribou coffee from Mandy and Ryan, who also gave me Sufjan Stevens's CD Michigan. Andrew, who knows how much I love working at a bank, gave me a book of dollar bill origami. It almost makes my working at a bank meaningful. Christine's friend Josh, whom I met for the first time on Saturday, made me a carrot cake with caramel cream cheese frosting.

After dinner, we went to a bar where new friends Kim and Karl bought me Jager shots, resulting in my first ever hangover. Overall, it's been a good birthday.

My gift to myself was the day off from work today. I get my birthday off as a paid holiday at work (pretty cool, eh?) and I took today to give myself a long weekend. As I said, I read The Prestige and listened to Christmas music all day. I also got a haircut and washed the van, not as much fun, but necessary.

Tomorrow, we're going to dinner with Christine's mom and brother. I don't remember the name of the restaurant, but they have great steaks. I'm going to get a rare filet mignon. My mouth is watering already.

Next weekend we travel to Michigan to celebrate my birthday with my family and also to celebrate St. Nicholas Day, another reason I love this time of year. Every Thanksgiving we draw someone's name for Thanksgiving, and every year I know by December 5th whom everyone has. Not by choice, mind you. I love to be surprised, but somehow, I always end up finding out. One year I almost made it, but then, on December 4th, my mom said, "I just figured out that you and I have each other this year." Thanks, mom. I hadn't. I figured now that we're hundreds of miles away, I was no longer in danger of having the surprise spoiled. Not so. My sister, attempting to make a purchase on my father's E-Bay account, was prompted with my log-in information, resulting in an e-mail notice alerting me that I had won an item I had never bid on. Fortunately she didn't have me, so the suspense remains. For now.

Happy Birthday to me!

I'm so old...

My nephew

2006-10-22T20:11:00.000-05:00

Family Picture Day

2006-10-22T17:09:00.000-05:00

Every fall my family takes family pictures at John Ball. Several people were taking pictures, and as you can see, we all just decided which camera we'd look at. I kept saying, "Tell us who's taking the picture," but would they? No.

Consider this exhibit J of why I'm always right.

FINE!

2006-10-05T11:30:00.000-05:00

I have been commanded by several family members to update my blog, so here goes. If it's as dull as I anticipate it will be, you have only yourselves to blame.

Life in My Room:

Monday through Wednesday I work from 7 am until 4 pm, after which I come home exhausted and watch either Law & Order: SVU, Whose Line Is It Anyway, or America's Funniest Home Videos (depending on the night) while playing Neverwinter Nights. Christine is asleep when I leave and comes home about ten minutes before I go to bed.

On Thursdays, which we both have off, we often spend the day at Borders. Christine does homework while I gather a stack of books to flip through while I drink coffee. I often wonder what the next person to come to my table thinks when they see the stack of books. Last time I left Fellowship of the Rings, The Dark Knight Strikes Again, Great Readings in Philosophy, Introducing Karl Barthes, and The Movie Plot Generator. I have eclectic tastes.

Today, however, we are staying in as neither of us is feeling well, and Christine needs to be more productive today than she feels she can be at Borders, because this weekend we are travelling to Grand Rapids (or G-Rap as some have taken to calling it) for family pictures, a fall tradition. This year we will be joined by my 9-Month old nephew (as if there aren't enough pictures of him in the world). I kid. I love pictures of him.

I have been reading AN Wilson's biography of CS Lewis as well as The Lord of the Rings. I am becoming fascinated by Mythopoeia, the construction of myth. I am working on one myself that may take a lifetime to create, as did Tolkien's, but I am enjoying occupying that world, especially when work gets tedious.

In the meaintime, I'm writing a prime-time soap opera about growing up in Grand Rapids. It's called The G-Rap, and I am played by Haley Joel Osment. He's doing it for free as part of his community service. Like any teen drama, it will be hip and fresh and will introduce new teenage slang such as "Grap-tastic," "Carbonics," and "Kresgese." Look for it on the WB in the next year or so.

That last part is a lie, which is why it was interesting.

EDIT: My wife just informed me that it's "Fellowship of the RING, not Fellowship of the RINGS!" in a tone that would only be appropriate had I written that I recently ate a kitten.

My Little Sister, Ladies and Gentlemen

2006-08-29T17:17:00.000-05:00

Having a baby hasn't changed my sister's personality one iota.

Saturday, she and her husband were in town, and we took their eight-month-old baby to the Brookefield Zoo. My sister did the exact same thing to the statue of John Ball at the zoo back home.

It's true: the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Ooooh, Barracuda

2006-08-09T13:58:00.000-05:00

Glass-Bottomed Boat Tour

2006-08-09T13:48:00.000-05:00

Safari Part I

2006-08-08T16:57:00.000-05:00

Safari Part II

2006-08-07T18:46:00.000-05:00

Views from the balcony

2006-08-03T17:13:00.000-05:00

Doesn't this look like a Corona commercial?

2006-08-03T14:59:00.000-05:00

This is what I saw all day. Actually, I was in the ocean most of the day, but the few times I came out, this is what I saw.

I was riding the waves in, and when I was about five feet from shore in three foot deep water, I put my head under and saw that I was surrounded by thousands of little silver fish. I would swim down among them and they'd swim away and then circle behind me. It was amazing. Sadly, my digital camera is not waterproof, or I could show you.

Hunting lizards

2006-08-03T14:48:00.000-05:00

The locals must think I'm an idiot. What I'm doing is the equivalent of tourists photographing squirrels back home. But I can't help it. I get so excited every time I see a lizad.

The weather is here, wish you were beautiful

2006-08-01T19:08:00.000-05:00

Saturday we arrived in Aruba, where we will spend the next two weeks. I've spent the last three days eating, sitting by the pool, eating, swimming, eating, drinking pina coladas, eating, smoking Cuban cigars, and eating.

Last night we ate at a restaurant called The Buccaneer that's designed to look like a shipwreck. It has aquarium tanks all around to make it feel like you're underwater. I ate next to a shark, a sea turtle, and a kissing fish with a nasty, swollen eye. Christine's mom took a picture of us with her new camera, which has a wicked flash.

Today we're going shopping in town, and tonight a local market moves into our resort around the pool.

A Happy Anniversary

2006-07-15T12:29:00.000-05:00

Today is the one-year anniversary of my broken leg. Exactly one year (and two hours) ago, I was walking down the sandy path in the woods to the waterslide at the camp where I was working. Little did I know that in a few moments, my life would change forever.

The previous couple of months, I had been worried about finding a job, paying bills, and Christine's grad-school plans. For the next ten or so months - being unable to work, having bills covered by workers' comp, and Christine's receiving a full assistantship - I worried about how to get places that had stairs, itches that were hidden below an inch and a half of Fiberglas, and if I would be able to walk again without surgery.

A few months ago, my worries reversed yet again. After intense physical therapy, which included having electricity zapped into my leg, I was released to return to work, thus workers' comp payments ended, and Christine finished her first year of grad school and teaching (very well, I might add). Once again I had to find a job, pay bills, and try to find a way to save enough to find a place wherever Christine ends up for her doctoral study.

I reopened my accounts with Monster and CareerBuilder.com and looked for editing and writing positions. I followed several promising leads, but while I had the education and experience for the jobs, I didn't have the titles that companies were looking for. My professors and contacts back at Cornerstone were very helpful, but alas, they could not force anyone to hire me.

Finally, I started looking for anything in my area for which I was qualified. CareerBuilder advertised a Customer Service Representative (teller) position at a bank in town. Having years of customer service experience, I applied. When I arrived at the interview, I was told that the position had changed and would I be interested in a position as a personal banker. With no idea what that meant, but needing the work, I said yes. The interview went well, I really enjoyed the people and the atmosphere, and a few days later, I got an offer, which I accepted.

This week I began orientation and began shadowing a personal banker at another location. At times I still can't believe I'm a banker (my educational background being in English and philosophy), but I'm really enjoying it. The company is growing, which will provide opportunities for advancement, and if nothing else, I'm learning how to responsibly manage money, which is valuable no matter what I end up doing.

Whenever I feel down that I'm not doing what I dreamed of in college, Christine reminds me that banking is just my "Bruce Wayne" face, and that my true "Batman" identity will emerge in the evening when I come home to write. She knows me so well.

Now that things are actually happening in my life, I will attempt to update more often, probably on weekends. Please keep in touch and keep us in your prayers.

I'm such a tool.

2006-06-06T20:37:00.000-05:00

These are my new interview clothes. Can you sense how uncomfortable I am? I hope soon to post a "First Day of Work" pic.

Wish me luck!

Three-Year Anniversary

2006-06-01T14:43:00.000-05:00

Tuesday was our three-year anniversary. It was much different from our second anniversary.

Last year at this time, we had just returned from England, both graduated with honors, and we were naively optimistic about what the future held.

Since then, I have been unemployed with a broken leg, and Christine has had her most difficult year of school ever. It was not the year we drank to on our last anniversary.

But we survived it, we're still together, and we still enjoy each others' company.

The weather was much the same as it was on our wedding day. It rained buckets (no tornado warning, though). Christine spent the day working on her summer independent studies, while I looked for jobs (I got an interview set up for Wednesday).

In the evening, we went to The Bonefish Grille. Christine's parents gave us a generous gift card, and we enjoyed wine, an enormous bowl of mussels as an appetizer, and amazing entrees. The special that night was grilled ahi tuna steak with goat cheese and artichokes. I ordered that, and Christine got salmon in an Asian sauce. We finished with coffee and strawberry shortcake. It was a wonderful night.

As Counting Crows said so eloquently, there's reason to believe this year will be better than the last. I'll drink to that.

Anniversary Dinner

2006-06-01T14:40:00.000-05:00

That's Carl Weathers at the bar. He kept trying to get in on our gift card. He did take home our mussel shells (presumably to get a stew going).

I spoke out of turn

2006-05-31T12:17:00.000-05:00

Christine informs me in no uncertain terms that she was NOT watching Star Wars; she was doing homework.

Welcome to My Room

2006-05-31T11:34:00.000-05:00

I live in the basement, where I spend my days drinking coffee and looking for jobs on the Internet. I have an interview next Wednesday.

Oh, and before you comment on the dustiness of the stairs, I feel I should tell you that it's my job to vacuum them.

2006-05-31T11:32:00.000-05:00

Christine's upstairs right now, watching Star Wars.

Honey, I Shrunk the Effigy

2006-05-24T13:39:00.000-05:00

My Batmobile

2006-05-16T14:36:00.000-05:00

I _______________:

2006-05-09T19:38:00.000-05:00

I got this from my mom's blog.

I AM: Finally able to walk and return to work.
I WANT: A job.
I WISH: Whenever the clock reads 11:11.
I HATE: Rude people.
I MISS: My friends and family in Michigan.
I FEAR: Spiders, heights, and the dark.
I HEAR: Law & Order: SVU in the background.
I WONDER: Who wrote the book of love.
I REGRET: Every time I was intentionally mean.
I AM NOT: In a good mood.
I DANCE: In the car when only Christine is watching.
I SING: 80s pop songs in the shower.
I CRY: When I break bones in three places.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: On time. I used to be, but then I got married.
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: Batmobiles out of LEGO bricks.
I WRITE: When the spirit moves me.
I CONFUSE: Freshmen.
I NEED: To get a job.
I SHOULD: Write more consistently.
I START: But then I get sidetracked.
I FINISH: Leftovers.
I TAG: My large literary following.

Thank God Almighty!

2006-05-09T15:53:00.000-05:00

I am free at last!

If you've visited Bibliophilia, you know that already. I meant to post that here.

I have officially been released to go back to work, which would be exciting if I had a job. Now it just means that the checks have stopped. I have a few promising leads, but no interviews yet. If you know of anyone who's looking for a copyeditor/writer, let me know.

In the meantime, I'm watching movies, reading a lot, and playing with my new Batman Legos.

How are you?

The Midwestern Conference on Literature, Lamguage, and Media

2006-04-03T20:27:00.000-05:00

This past weekend, I attended a conference at Northern Illinois University, where Christine teaches and attends graduate school. It was the most activity I've had in one weekend in a long time, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Christine presented a paper called "The Victorian Ideal of Womanhood in Anne Bronte's Tenant of Wildfell Hall" (incidentally, this book came up once in a game of Ex Libris, and I got a point for my opening line. Thanks Racie). The paper was a reworking of a paper she wrote in Oxford that was a top-five finalist in a contest for our program. The paper was well-received, and Christine answered questions very well.

The highlight of the conference (at least academically) was Susan Gubar's presentation Saturday night. If you've never heard of Susan Gubar, you've either been living under a rock or a Baptist steeple. Gubar, along with The Madwoman in the Attic co-author Sandra Gilbert, is one of the foremost feminist critics of the 20th and 21st century. Her paper was what she called "narrative criticism." It was literary criticism presented as narrative, with the critic as a character who observes certain things and not others and will occasionally be wrong. It was an engaging story as well as a fascinating idea. I believe it will be published this summer by University of Illinois Press.

The social highlight was being able to hang out with Christine's friends. whom I've met briefly, but whom I mostly know through Christine's stories about the teaching intern office. The office was everything I dreamed it would be (which doesn't speak highly of my imagination).

Earlier in the semester, the TIs found poop in their office. I heard this story from one of Christine's friends (to protect her anonymity, I'll call her "Meredith"). "Meredith" saw a few pieces of poop on the office floor, and, quote, "knew there had to be more," unquote. Asked how she knew there had to be more poop, Meredith replied, "I am the poo-whisperer." This sounds odd, perhaps, but more poop was indeed on the floor, so her status as poo-whisperer is confirmed. The pattern of the poop was, according to another of Christine's office-mates (let's call her "Heidi"): poo, poo-poo, poo-poo-poo.

When Christine returned to the office, she did not believe that poop had indeed been on the floor. Her poo-whispering challenged, Meredith took the poop out of the trash and showed it to my skeptical bride, who laughed for three hours straight, because, while she finds Kevin Smith lowbrow, she'll laugh about poop and farts until she vomits (which, oddly enough, she does not find funny). If you are wondering, as I did, why Meredith took poop out of the trash instead of allowing Christine to be a scatological agnostic, Meredith defends herself, saying, "There was nothing on top of it" (as if something more disgusting than poop could have been in the trash that would prevent her from fishing around in there). I suppose, however, that it's all in a day's work for the poo-whisperer. (Look for the Poo-Whisperer motion picture at next year's Sundance Film Festival.)

Lest you think the weekend was all poo all the time, another of Christine's office mates (codename, Elizabeth) is as much a grammar nerd as I am (if not, God forbid, more so). At the conferences book sale, I bought an Oxford Grammar, and Elizabeth procured an updated MLA Stylebook. We clung to our purchases like three-year-old with security blankets (desperately nerdy three-year-olds with argyle security blankets).

Christine's sole male friend is conducting field research into the lives of his female office-mates. Based on the behaviors I observed, if he publishes his findings, no male will believe them.

Next weekend, friends from Michigan will be staying with us, and we'll visit the Shedd Aquarium. Pictures and updates will ensue.

By the way, if you noticed the typo in the title, pat yourself on the back. You have a sharper eye than whoever made the magnets that were in our conference materials.

Notes from a small basement

2006-03-28T19:44:00.000-06:00

Thanks to those of you who continue to visit despite my sporadic posting. I'm doing much better now. Thanks for your prayers and encouragement.

I still have a cough; I tend to get one every year around this time. I' managing it with Triaminc, which tastes awful, but is effective.

The essential oils I've been using on my Achilles tendon has worked marvelously. I've changed now to a clove oil, which is still an anti-inflammatory, but it smells much better than what I was using.

Because my leg is not in as much pain, I can do more extensive therapy. Today I marched in place on a trampoline and then balanced on my broken foot for one minute at a time. I also did some other balancing exercises and stair stepping. I had to use a small bench because my feet don't fit on their steps. So while I'm thrilled to not be in pain, my leg muscles are exhausted.

I have my next doctor's appointment on April 5th (which is my brother's birthday). If all is well, my doctor will release me to return to work. Woo-hoo! I am so frickin' lonely. I can't wait to be able to socialize more.

This weekend Christine will present a paper on the Victorian ideal of womanhood at an NIU literary conference that I will attend with her. I'm looking forward to it.

I'm still alive (barely)

2006-03-18T17:38:00.000-06:00

Sorry I've been incommunicado for a while. I've had a cold since last Thursday, and while I am able to walk, therapy has been incredibly painful this past week. That tends to stem the flow of creative juices.

Christine had a cold last week, and I could tell I was fighting it off. Last Thursday it finally got me. While Christine tends to get colds in her head and sinuses, I tend to get them in my chest/lungs. I've been coughing for ten days straight now. Tea and Vaporub help some, and I'm popping DayQuil pills like candy. They're pretty effective, but I can tell the exact moment when it's been four hours since I took them.

My achilles tendon on my left leg is inflamed and very painful. My therapist said it could be because I don't have my full range of motion back yet, so the tendon snaps back before it extends all the way, which irritates it. At therapy on Thursday, they hooked me up to four pads that gave a small electrical current that was meant to loosen up the tissue. When it wasn't any better on Friday, they took a different pad, put cortizone on it, and stuck it to my tendon. Then they put another pad on top of my foot at the ankle line. Finally, they took what looked like (and pretty much was) a car battery charger and hooked that up to the pads. This was much, much more than the slight tingling sensation of the previous day. Four fifteen minutes, tiny jumper cables sent electricity into my foot, which drove the cortizone into the deep tissue. Today I've been icing it, and I'm wearing Ted Hose (basically panty-hose on one leg). I guess it's helping.

I'm going to hobble up the stairs for more tea. Later.

I Can Walk!

2006-03-06T20:20:00.000-06:00

Isn't it greeeeeaaaaaat?
That I perambulate!
Isn't it graaaaaaaaand?
That I can even stand!

I don't crawl!
I don't creep!
I don't even trip or balk
When I want to go get something
I stand right up and walk
Walk Walk Walk
Waaaaaaaaalk!

I can walk!

If you haven't seen the animated Charlotte's Web, that may just seem weird. But all of you who celebrate when Wilbur discovers he can talk, sing with me!

I had a doctor's appointment today. Everything looked great, and he told me I can start to wean myself off the boot. For me, that meant ripping it off, throwing it across the room, and putting on normal shoes.

My first couple of steps felt so weird. It was like walking when your foot's asleep. But I was walking!

Woo hoo!

Physical Therapy

2006-02-21T15:07:00.000-06:00

I've now been to physical therapy three times. Everyone I've worked with is pleased with my range of motion and strength. I can bring my foot into a ninety-degree angle with my leg, which is a good place to start. It needs to be at 110 degrees to walk. Therapy consists of riding an exercise bike and stretching. I'm not sure why I have to go somewhere to do that. Why can't they just tell me to ride an exercise bike and then stretch? But I guess some people won't do it unless they're made to.

So therapy is going well. My rides, however, are another story. Because the rest of the family have lives, I've arranged for transportation through my worker's comp provider, who hired a cab service to transport me back and forth. Forth is going great. Back is another story.

Yesterday the driver picked me up at home at 10:30. Therapy went from 11-11:30. No one showed up to pick me up at 11:30. Or at noon. Or at 12:30. At noon the receptionist at the physical therapists' office took pity on me and drove me home. I called my worker's comp case nurse, who made an angry phone call to the cab company. She called me back and told me to tell the driver when I needed to be picked up and gave me a number to call if no one showed.

This morning the cab was waiting at 10:30 again. When the driver dropped me off, I told him I'd need to be picked up at noon. He added me to the schedule and gave me a number to call in case of a problem (my nurse must have made an impression). At noon, no ride. So I call the number, and they tell me a driver is on his way. At 12:15 I call again. The driver is lost. I can't really be upset, because as everyone knows, I am the most directionally impaired person on earth (although I can read a map and a compass, so I'm a little bit better than my wife. At directions, that is). At 12:30 I'm getting a little annoyed, so I call again. He's on the right street, but he's looking for the address. At 12:45 he finally arrives.

So riding in cabs is a bit of an adventure, and I'm amazed at the different shades of body odor that the human body can produce.

For now, therapy sessions are 1/2-1 hour. I will eventually be working up to 3-4 hour sessions.

The end is in sight

2006-02-08T15:46:00.000-06:00

Monday I saw my new doctor for the first time. He said that my X-rays looked good and that my bones seem to be healing fine. To be sure, he got me an appointment for a CT scan at the hospital next door for that afternoon. The results came in today and were positive. The next step is to begin physical therapy. I see the doctor again in four weeks, when he expects me to be off the crutches and using a cane or nothing. He predicts I'll be back to normal in 8-10 weeks.

Movie Marathon

2006-02-05T12:13:00.000-06:00

Since we don't watch football, Superbowl Sunday has becaome our movie trilogy day. This year we're watching The Lord of the Rings, the extended version. Let the nerdiness begin!

Babies and Books

2006-02-02T11:26:00.000-06:00

Dear Loyal Readers,

I apologize for my absence; much has happened over the last month, and I will record it, but if I included it all in one post, you would grow bored and stop reading. So I will update regularly until you are up to speed on my life (I now anticipate the comments, "Do you think we have nothing better to do than read about your life?" from people who visit a blog that is about nothing other than my life).

I told you last time that I was referred to an orthopedic surgeon. It has taken two weeks and several phone calls (most of which were unreturned), but I finally have an appointment for Monday at 10:30. Of course, once I got the appointment, everybody I had left messages with returned my calls. I'll be sure to let you know what I find out.

If you read my mom's blog at all, you may have seen a photo or two of our nephew, who was born on New Years Day. We were so happy he came while we were there, and Christine had a great time helping Dana that week. While Christine might not think she has maternal instincts, anyone who has ever needed care while she was around would disagree.

As of yesterday, the baby is one-month old, and while watching him grow on mom's blog is better than nothing, we miss him dreadfully. We will be in Grand Rapids next weekend, and will have to fight with Grandpa over who gets to hold him. Dana, make sure you know where the baby is before either of us leaves.

While the baby may have overshadowed most of our holiday trip to Michigan, it was not the only enjoyable part. We went to a couple of parties with friends, which were great. One in particular, a Literary Party, was awesome. We played Trivial Pursuit: Book Lovers Edition, which made all of us English majors despair of the last four or five years, and had a white elephant used book swap. I went home with Stephen Lawhead's Byzantium (thanks Zac!) and gave one of my many copies of The Princess Bride to Cousin Chris.

We ended the evening playing Riff, a music trivia game. A word to the wise, if you play this game with people who know music, get some definitions at the beginning. I apparently did not adequately differentiate between hair bands and heavy metal, which is very funny to some people. Apparently my palette is not refined enough to distinguish the subtle differences that separate one crappy sub-genre from another. But I'm not bitter. My team was undefeated that night.

Well, until next month (I'm kidding, I promise).

A screw loose

2006-01-13T19:49:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I had my last appointment with the doctor I was seeing. He referred me to a surgeon in Rockford. This doesn't necessarily mean that I will be having another surgery, but it's rather likely. My leg would probably still heal with time, but after walking on it for a month, I'm in a lot of pain, and one of my screws is loose, which is a sign that the bone is still not bridging. So more waiting to see this doctor, and then, I assume, more waiting. Yay.

Uncle Buddy

2006-01-02T20:10:00.000-06:00

Auntie Christine

2006-01-02T20:06:00.000-06:00

The New Year's Baby!

2006-01-01T19:20:00.000-06:00

As I said earlier, my sister has always done whatever she could to postpone opening Christmas presents: take a shower, make the bed. Have a baby.

That's right! I'm an uncle!

Christine and I came up to Michigan on Thursday to spend New Year's with friends and family, and today was the day we were to exchange gifts with my family. So at 8:00 a.m. my mom announced that Dana was on her way to the hospital.

At 9:00 she was already dilated 7 cm. and they thought the baby could come any time. Unfortunately, he was twisted and couldn't get past Dana's pelvis. After 2 1/2 hours of pushing, Dana received an epidural and was prepared for a C-section.

At 3:37, Braeden Edward entered the world (well, the world not contained within my sister, which seems to be vast universe where several languages are spoken). He's 21 3/4 inches long and 9 pounds, 3 ounces, which was a surprise given that my sister was not big at all. He's a quiet baby, and when he does cry, it doesn't last more than a moment or two.

It was weird seeing Dana's baby in his basinette, as I can remember seeing Dana in hers. My dad drove me to see her and my mom, and the whole way there, he warned me that mom would be too tired to pick me up. When we arrived mom came out to meet as as we were looking at Dana. She (my mom) was in a blue hospital gown and looked exhausted (exactly how Dana looked just before we left), and if my dad hadn't put the idea in my head, I never would have said, "Pick me up, mom." Dana wasn't able to pick me up today either.

Mom and baby are doing fine, and grandma and grandpa (or as we hope they will come to be called, Pop Pop and Gangey) are visiting now.

Enjoy the pictures, and don't worry about the presents; Dana and her baby are the best gifts we could have received today (unless I'm getting a Lego Millenium Falcon; that would be pretty cool too).

Braeden's first check-up

2006-01-01T16:29:00.000-06:00

Baby Brady

2006-01-01T16:26:00.000-06:00

Happy Christmas!

2005-12-27T09:28:00.000-06:00

Christine by the fire

2005-12-27T09:20:00.000-06:00

Christmas Breakfast Recipes

2005-12-26T20:21:00.000-06:00

Quiche Lorraine

12 eggs
3 cups half and half
4 slices bread, cubed
1 teaspoon salt
black pepper, to taste
onion, to taste
2 cups broccoli florets, cooked and cooled
1 pound ham, cubed
2 cups Swiss cheese, shredded

1. Beat eggs and half and half, add remaining ingredients. Store in covered bowl overnight.
2. Bake in 9x13 prepared pan for approximately 55 minutes, at 350 degrees. Let sit for 10 minutes before cutting.

Orange-Glazed Blueberry Scones

2 cups unbleached flour (plus more for rolling berries)
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 cup unsalted butter, chilled and cut into chunks
3/4 cup half and half
1 egg
1 pint fresh blueberries

For the Orange Glaze
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
2 oranges, juiced and zested

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F
2. In a large bowl, sift together flour, baking powder, salt and sugar; mix thoroughly. Cut in butter using 2 forks or a pastry blender. The butter pieces should be coated with flour and resemble crumbs.
3. In another bowl, mix buttermilk and egg together, and then add to the flour mixture. Mix just to incorporate, do no overwork the dough.
4. Roll blueberries in flour to coat, this will help prevent the fruit from sinking to the bottom of the scone when baked. Fold the blueberries into batter, being careful not to bruise. Drop large tablespoons of batter on an ungreased cookie sheet.
5. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes until brown. Cool before applying orange glaze.
6. To prepare Orange Glaze: combine butter, sugar, orange zest, and juice over a double boiler. Cook until butter and sugar are melted and mixture has thickened. Remove from heat and beat until smooth and slightly cool. Drizzle or brush on top of scones and let glaze get hazy and hardened.

So this is Christmas

2005-12-26T17:10:00.000-06:00

Merry Christmas to all! God bless us, every one! The hell you say!

That last sentiment may not fill everyone's heart with the warmth of Christmas, but it does mine and, I'm sure, my mom's, and well it should. Someday "Maggie's Gift" by Katherine Patterson will be considered a Christmas classic on par with Clement Moore's "A Visit from Saint Nicholas" and Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol.

Our Christmas with Christine's family was lovely. On Christmas Eve I baked bread, made scones, and prepared a quiche for Christmas breakfast, while Christine made a raspberry cheesecake that upstaged the cookies I had been baking all week. It was truly delicious.

Christine and I gave each other our presents on Christmas Eve night. I gave her The Complete Novels of Charlotte and Emily Bronte; Fantasic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Quidditch Through the Ages: Classic Books from the Library of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by J.K. Rowling; Interview with the Vampire DVD; and The Empire Strikes Back soundtrack. She gave me Lost by Gregory Maguire; Batman: Year One by Frank Miller; I Will Fear No Evil by Robert A. Heinlein, which I never bought for myself only because it has a naked woman on the cover, and I didn't know how Christine would react to that; and a two-month subscription to Netflicks.

I got up early Christmas morning (8:30) to make breakfast. I missed my brother. Every year when I was at home, Evan and I were the first ones up every Christmas morning. Our sister liked to sleep in on the holiday, which annoyed us to no end. We'd be on the couch in our pajamas, unwashed, our stocking stuffers scattered before us, yelling for Dana to get up, which meant waiting for her to shower, get dressed, brush her teeth, put hot rollers in her hair, write in her journal, wash the cat, paint her bedroom, and anything else she could think of to delay the festivities. Once she was up, we would begin to open presents. I'd usually get Legos or Batman action figures and plenty of books. Evan would get sports equipment and clothes. Dana got extravagant gifts that to this day my dad hasn't put together. Mom got rubberstamps, books, and jewelry. And dad got store credit. After years of seeing the gifts we picked out get returned, we began buying him giftcards, although sometimes he'd just tell us, "You bought me this for Christmas; give me $50." Good times.

After opening presents, we'd eat breakfast. Often mom would make the same quiche I made this year along with an amazing cherry bread. Then we'd rush to clean up before the rest of the family arrived. Chris and his family would inevitably arrive first and stay latest, presumably so that Chris could win all of my Christmas candy in poker. Then Grandma and Grandpa would arrive to talk constantly and not at all, respectively. We could hear youngest cousin coming a mile away, already warning us what would happen if we threw our wrapping paper at her. When everyone arrived, dad would pray like Doc Boy in "Garfield's Christmas," and then we'd feast upon meatballs and ham sandwiches and various vegetarian side dishes.

When we had all stuffed ourselves silly, though with enough room to keep munching on cookies, Chex-mix, and chocolate-covered pretzels, we'd open presents. The best part was throwing wrapping paper at each other, occasionally "missing" and hitting our youngest cousin, who bore it with a stoicism that inspired one and all. Then we'd retire to different parts of the house to watch Christmas movies, play games, and chat, all while continuing to eat. I don't ever remember going to bed on Christmas night; eventually, I suppose, we collapsed from exhaustion or fell into sugar comas.

This year, I made breakfast and then watched A Christmas Story on TV while opening my stocking (same house rules here; you can open your stocking any time, but you had to wait for everyone else before presents). Christine's mom was up, but the rest of the family makes Dana look like Speedy Gonzales. Around 10, we ate breakfast and then began to open presents. Mum handed me a huge package. I waited to see what other people had received, a tradition of my family that Christine cannot abide, and after being prompted, tore open my enormous gift. It was the Premier Edition 70th Anniversary Monopoly. I had seen it in a Sam's Club ad a couple of months ago and asked for it, but it exceeded my highest expectations. It was huge! I opened to box with some help from Christine's brother. The pieces are about twice the size of those in my Deluxe Edition, and while they are all the classic pieces, they're fancied up art-deco style. The houses and hotels are metal, the hotels gold-colored in twelve different styles, and the houses silver in four variaties. All the pieces fit into the wooden pedestal board, and it comes with a certificate of authenticity signed by Mr. Monopoly himself. It's amazing. Christine and I played today, and I won, which seemed appropriate, but is rare for our two-person games.

I also received some amazing recipe software. It comes with several cookbooks and a feature to create my own, and so long as it recognizes my ingredients, I can give me nutritional information per serving and can scale any recipe to the amount of servings I need. Christine and I ended up with the remaining seasons of "Friends" we needed, and a plethora of gift cards. Some family friends bought me a nutcracker, which I've collected since I was 10. Christine is afraid of them, though, so I display them at my mom's house. I'll be bringing this one with me when we go up to Michigan later this week.

Christine's aunt, uncle, and cousins came over in the afternoon, and we feasted on ham, sweet potatoes, cheesecake, and, to my chagrin, very few cookies. At night, we watched the Veggie Tales movie, "The Lord of the Beans." It's hilarious. I love the parody of Tom Bombadil, the most annoying character in Western literature. Then we collapsed out of exhaustion.

This week we will celebrate with my family and attend a number of parties with friends in Grand Rapids.

Happy Holidays!
(Only because it's after Christmas, and I want to wish you a Happy New Year as well. Don't go all Bill O'Reilley on me.)

The Game

2005-12-26T16:53:00.000-06:00

Passing Go

2005-12-26T16:27:00.000-06:00

"The Dog"

2005-12-26T16:10:00.000-06:00

Gold-colored money holder

2005-12-26T15:50:00.000-06:00

Aged title cards

2005-12-26T15:41:00.000-06:00

The laziest dog in the world

2005-12-26T15:31:00.000-06:00

Christmas Cookies

2005-12-21T23:04:00.000-06:00

I've been doing a lot of baking this week. Today Christine finished Christmas shopping while I baked cookies. I baked for hours. It was so much fun.

I made these great chocolate chip cookies. I throw in a handful of walnuts, because I like the texture. Even cooked until crispy, these cookies have a cake-like consistency.

I also made pecan puffs. I made some yesterday (many of which burned), but today was more successful.

Christine likes haystacks, so I made several of those. They're just melted chocolate chips and chow-mein noodles. Easy, but good.

In the background all day, I played my "Arrested Development" DVDs. It's such a great show. I can't pick a favorite character. If I had to, I would probably say Buster, but G.O.B., Tobias, and George Sr. are great, and I love George Michael. I'm also adding Maeby to my list of TV crushes. She still trails Topanga and Punky Brewster, but she may have passed Donna from "That 70s Show."

Tomorrow I'm making kolackis (KLOT-chkees) and beef stew for dinner.

2005-12-21T20:55:00.000-06:00

Waiting

2005-12-20T20:02:00.000-06:00

My updates over the last several months have been few and far between, as many of my readers have pointed out. The reason is that I never feel I have anything to write about. because since July, I've been waiting. Every four weeks or so, I'd go to the doctor, he'd tell me nothing has changed, and I would wait until the next appointment, when he would tell me the same thing. I'm still waiting. My next appointment is Friday, January 13, when I will receive either great news or devastating news, either my leg is healing, or I need another surgery (if the pain is any indication at this point, I fear it will be the latter).

Waiting takes on a peculiar significance during advent, a significance that tends to be lost in the American consumerization of Christmas, because Christmas seems to arrive the day after Halloween. But once advent was a time for fasting, which was observed as strictly as Lent. Advent was not a time of celebration, but for penitence. The celebration came with the arrival of Christmas.

When I was a kid, my dad would always say that the anticipation was what made Christmas exciting, and while at the time I didn't believe him (I was excited to open presents NOW!), I learned that he was right. Counting the days till Christmas on a construction paper chain or gumdrops on a string of dental floss or a stuffed mouse on a pocket calendar doubled the excitement every day as we saw Christmas coming closer.

My mom used to read to us from a book called When All the World Was Waiting, an advent book that traced the prophecies about the coming Messiah from Genesis up until the coming of the Magi. It helped us to see that while waiting four weeks for Christmas might seem like a long time to us, the world had been waiting for the coming of Jesus for thousands of years, and as excited as we were on Christmas day, the world was that much more excited when Christ finally arrived.

I don't have a great conclusion to wrap this up. I've just been thinking about the nature of waiting, especially since this Sunday when I attended an Anglican church and heard for the first time that advent is supposed to be a time of fasting and preparation. Now is not the time for celebrating, but that day will come. Someday I'll be able to walk and work and get on with my life, and that will be a time for celebration and something to write about.

My Wife

2005-12-19T21:01:00.000-06:00

Christine has a new blog. Check it out.

I'm glad I'm not a horse

2005-12-14T09:46:00.000-06:00

Today I had a follow-up on my CT scan from Friday. Apparently I have so much hardware in my leg that it distorted the image, and the scans were pretty much useless. I had yet another x-ray, and the doctor said the tibia is still not visibly healing. He told me to start putting as much weight as I can on it, and one of two things will happen: either it's healing and will continue to heal, or it's not healing and I'll break the hardware and need further surgery. But if it's not healing, I'll need surgery anyway. So, I can put weight on my leg with the boot still on, but I guess I won't really be walking by Christmas.

My next appointment is Friday, January 13. Wish me luck.

Happy Birthday to Me!

2005-12-12T18:57:00.000-06:00

Today is my 25th birthday. I am half-way to fifty. A quarter century old.

Aside from feeling ancient, it was a great birthday. I woke Christine up at 8:30 so I could open presents. Her parents got me season 1 of "Desperate Housewives." Yay. Christine got me Son of a Witch, the sequel to Gregory Maguire's Wicked, and a box set of a children's fantasy series of books about bats. It looks really cool.

We watched the DH pilot and then went to breakfast at Richard Walker's pancake house. We had omelets and pancakes and delicious coffee. After breakfast we went to Barnes & Noble where I looked at games (they have Batman Monopoly!) and read some of Alan Moore's graphic novel Watchmen. My parents got me Moore's V for Vendetta, and it was amazing. Now I want to read all of his stuff.

On a less thrilling note, my driver's license expired today, and I found out last week that my social security card was misplaced in the move. So I applied for a replacement card, and in two weeks I'll get to take a road test to get a new license. Wee.

I spent the afternoon reading Son of a Witch before making tamales and red beans & rice for dinner. Now I'm watching three hours of "America's Funniest Home Videos." A happy birthday indeed.

Holiday Top Five

2005-12-03T16:10:00.000-06:00

Movies/Specials

5. It's a Wonderful Life I was in the stage version of this movie twice, once as Uncle Billy and then as Ernie because the director's son's friend wanted to play Uncle Billy. The director later admitted she made a mistake. Both parts were a lot of fun.
4. A Christmas Story I first saw this movie on a winter school day when it was too cold to go outside for recess. I remember that everyone in my grade had to miss the middle to go to music class. I have since seen the film in its entirety every year.
3. "The Snowman" This animated special features a brief narration from David Bowie and then has no dialog, only amazing instrumental and vocal music. It's so good, it even held my attention as a child. Keep the hankies nearby.
2. "A Garfield Christmas Special" The Christmas is here song always gives me that warm holiday feeling.
1. Scrooge starring Albert Finney with Alec Guinness as Jacob Marley. The ghost of Christmas yet to Come scared me to death when I was little. It's probably a good thing that the tapes-off-TV version we had cut out the scene in hell.

Bonus - "A Claymation Christmas" This was on our VHS with Garfield, and several years ago, it mysteriously disappeared. I've since gotten the Garfield special on DVD, but not this one yet. The California Raisins appear, but the camels who sing the chorus of "We Three Kings" steal the show.

Music

5. Manheim Steamroller and Trans Siberian Orchestra. I lump these two together because they're essentially the same, and I like them equally. Manheim introduced me to "Pat-A-Pat," which I now love, and TSO plays my favorite version of "Carol of the Bells" since the face pounding, anthropomorphic bell of "A Claymation Christmas" (see abovce).
4. Handel's "Messiah" I'm listening to it now. I've only recently grown to appreciate Classical music, and this was a big step in getting me there.
3. Amy Grant's "Christmas Album" This one is pure nostalgia. I'm not generally a big Amy Grant fan, but I still long for a tender Tennessee Christmas. I can't imagine it's much different that the Michigan/Illinois Christmases I've grown up with, but Amy tells it well.
2. Bing Crosby was my mom's favorite Christmas singer, so his songs always remind me of childhood Christmases. My dad hated "Christmas in Kilarney," but we blasted it anyway. This year I fell in love with his duet of "Peace on Earth/The Little Drummer Boy" with David Bowie, although when my wife first heard it, she said, "Why the hell are Bing Crosby and David Bowie singing together?" I suspect that this Christmas she may be visited by three spirits.
1. "John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together" This has been a family favorite since I was very young, and I believe that my extended family combined has owned about 100 copies because it's the unluckiest album ever. We had in on tape, and it got ruined. My cousin loved it as well, and he blames his younger sister for ruining theirs. We eventually bought a new copy, but it disappeared. A few years ago, I found it on a holiday rack and listened to it every day until, yes, I lost it. The following year I was at Sam's Club when I saw it in a case with two "Baby's First Christmas" CDs; I bought it anyway. This year, when I got out my Christmas CDs, I opened the case to pop it in, only to find it empty. Sigh. The album has subversively New Age lyrics, but it's still great.

Food

5. Sweet potatoes. I never enjoyed them until I had my mother-in-law's. I think the marshmallows always freaked me out. But mom makes them with just butter and brown sugar. After a dash of salt, they're amazing.
4. Pumpkin pie. My Aunt Carol makes a mean pie (she is, after all, responsible for Pie Night). Slathered in whipped cream (the pie, not my aunt), this says happy holidays to me.
3. Stuffing/Dressing. Any kind and with anything. My grandma used to make it with sausage, and Christine's mom makes a simple version with just bread, onions, celery, broth, and poultry seasoning. I even like Stove Top.
2. Turkey and Ham. These are tied because one is for Christmas and one for Thanksgiving, but both equally embody the holiday meal for me.
1. Quiche. My mom often made quiche for Christmas morning, and now I'm carrying on the tradition here. Christine insists that it's not truly quiche because it doesn't have a crust, but my mom says that the lack of crust is what makes it Lorraine. They're both wrong, but it's still delicious.

Please share your lists and suggest further categories.

Finally some news about my leg

2005-12-02T11:38:00.000-06:00

I just got back from my doctor's appointment this morning, and finally he had some news for me. My fibula appears to be completely healed, and he sees bridging in the tibia. He prescribed a CT scan, and I'll be working with my case nurse to schedule that appointment. If the CT scan reveals that the tibia is in fact bridging, I'll meet with my doctor again and may be given the go-ahead to start walking. I may be able to walk on my birthday!

Thanks for all your prayers.

Today should be my birthday

2005-12-01T13:05:00.000-06:00

December 1, 1980 was my due date. I didn't arrive on time. Apparently I was comfortable and decided to wait twelve days to come out. Every December 1 since then, my mom has wished me a happy it-should-be-your-birthday, and although this is the farthest away we've ever been on December 1, thanks to the miracle of technology, she can still remind me of the only time I was ever late for anything (until, of course, I got married).

Tomorrow I have another doctor's appointment. This year for my birthday, I want to walk.

I am currently sitting before a roaring fire, listening to Christmas music, and reading Calvin and Hobbes. I guess life's pretty good.

My Holiday Blog

2005-11-30T15:39:00.000-06:00

Enough people have told me enough times that I need to blog more often that I am finally caving in to the pressure. I know I need to blog more, if only to keep me writing, so keep pestering me.

I spent a few weeks at my parents' house for Thanksgiving. 'Twas fun. I stayed in the tiny bedroom I lived in when I was home. Although it's nicer now, because as soon as I moved out, my parents bought a new bed for it. They anticipated my limited mobility by shoving the rug that used to be in the hallway into the room, which resulted in 3 square inches of maneuverable floor space on which I could hobble into bed. Fortunately, once my wife joined me, we were moved into a larger room that had a desk shoved up against the doorway.

I spent the first week there reading and making Christmas crafts. I made several snowmen and Christmas trees out of Sculpey. I may not have many marketable skills, but I make adorable Christmas crafts. My reading list included Katherine Patterson's Christmas stories. If you've never read "Maggie's Gift," stop reading this and find it. Hilarious and touching without being sappy. Speaking of sappy Christmas stories, has anyone heard that awful Mockingbird song they play on Star 105.7? It's almost as bad as the song about the boy who wants to buy shoes for his dying mother. I hate schmaltz.

I also read The Cat Who Walks Through Walls by Robert A. Heinlein, one of my favorite authors. It starts out as a great adventure story, but then becomes incredibly philosophical and bizarre. I loved it. It also tied into his novel The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress, one of my favorite books of all time.

I did very well this year not listening to Christmas music or watching Christmas movies too early (some years I begin as early as September), but now that Thanksgiving has come, I am free to indulge as much as I wish without guilt. We traditionally watch the recent Miracle on 34th Street at Thanksgiving. That breaks the damn, and since then I've watched "It's Christmas Charlie Brown," "Garfield Christmas," A Christmas Story (one of my favorites), and one of the greatest interpretations of A Christmas Carol ever, Scrooge starring Albert Finney and Alec "Obi Wan Kenobi" Guinness as Marley.

This year's Thanksgiving was different, but good. We traditionally go to my Aunt Carol's, but since the weather was so bad, we met in the church next door to my parents' house. I love eating in the basement at my aunt's house, but the basement of the church was fun too.

The Saturday after Thanksgiving we celebrated another tradition, St. Nicholas's Day. True, it isn't until december 6, but since Christine and I will be in Illinois, we celebrated it early. Every year, we draw names and buy a gift for someone in the family. My brother and I got each other, and he got me both seasons of "Arrested Development," and I got him an NT Wright book and the movie Blast from the Past, which, for whatever reason, he really enjoys.

We also celebrated my birthday (which is December 12) and my brother-in-law's birthday (which is even farther away). His birthday is close to Christmas, his anniversary, and this year the birth of his first child, so it tends to get overshadowed, a fact that he bears with a quiet stoicism that inspires us all. He got gift cards for tools, which, for whatever reason, he enjoys. I got a sweet haul that included the graphic novel V for Vendetta (soon to be a major motion picture starring natalie Portman and Hugo Weaving), which was fantastic and has inspired me to read Alan Moore's entire catalog, including Watchmen, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and Batman: The Killing Joke. I also got Anne Rice's new book, Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt; the game Cranium: Hullaballoo, a gift card to Barnes & Noble, and some homemade chocolate-chip cookies.

My brother took me to Rent for my birthday. I'm not a fan of Chris Columbus's visual style (which is like saying I'm not a fan of Lady Godiva's clothes), but the music and acting was great. That night I saw Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for the second time. I love movies, but two in one day is a bit much.

That about brings you up to speed on my life. I'm still crippled and unemployed, but Friday I'll learn if either of those will change anytime soon.

Happy Holidays!

Who's the leader of the club?

2005-11-11T09:18:00.000-06:00

I got a really funny letter the other day inviting me to be a member of the Handyman Club of America.

"Why you?

"Well, it's no secret among your friends and family that you are an outstanding handyman. As someone who is passionately devoted to do-it-yourself home improvement and maybe even woodworking, you're exactly the kind of person our Club is always looking for."

You all knew that I was an outstanding handyman, and you never told me? I had to find out in a letter! I might even be interested in woodworking, and I never knew.

Do-it-yourself woodworking sounds dirty, though. I'm not sure I want to be a part of this club.

2005-11-09T20:10:00.000-06:00

Lily looking regal

2005-11-09T20:09:00.001-06:00

Lily saying hi to Murphy

2005-11-09T20:09:00.000-06:00

Christine and Lily

2005-11-09T14:26:00.000-06:00

Lily

A New Addition

2005-11-06T13:12:00.000-06:00

Yesterday we got a new friend for Murphy. She's a five-year-old beagle whom we've named Lily. She came with the name Angel, but no one liked it, and she didn't come to it anyway, and so we're trying to get her used to the new signifier. She and Murphy get along well. They enjoy butt-checking each other, trying to mount each other, and simultaneously licking each other's naughty parts. And people wonder why I prefer cats.

Mom thinks Lily was bred in a puppy mill. She's clearly had litters before, and she has beautiful markings, but her snout and tail are thinner than most beagles, and she's not good on a leash, and so she probably wasn't a show dog. She's sweet, but she was spoiled at her last home, which means she begs for scraps and ignores her dog food, but mom will break her of that soon.

My leg is still broken, and I can't walk, but on the plus side, I am well on my way to saving a virtual fantasy world from the tyranny of the Old Ones. Thank heaven for RPGs.

I'll be in Grand Rapids the week before and the week of Thanksgiving, so if you live there, I hope to see you soon.

Illustration

2005-11-02T11:28:00.000-06:00

Janna in Tom's cubby hole

Storytime

2005-10-28T21:54:00.000-05:00

I had a doctor's appointment today, and he said the same thing: he can't see any bridging, but that doesn't mean it's not healing. If, at my next appointment, he still doesn't see any bridging, I may get a CT scan to see if I am actually healing. For now, I still can't put any weight on it. So, yeah.

On a happier note, a friend from college sent me a story I wrote freshman year. Some friends decided to start a writing club called either "The Literature Lumberjacks" or "The Pretty Unicorns." Neither was my idea. These friends then wrote stories, some based in fact, others very imaginative. I couldn't decide what to write, so once everyone had written their story, I wrote a day in my life in which I interact with the events of theor stories. It's full of inside jokes, but I got a good laugh out of it. I publish it here in its original format.

I'll offer a little history here. This is before Christine and I were dating, but the bookstore incident happened exactly as I record it. It seemed more significant as one of the few things Christine and I did together alone than it does now. My portrayal of all of the characters is spot on.

Recently, three manuscripts were found which gave a few scattered details on the lives of a certain group of college students. These transcripts have been compiled and combined with personal experience to create this single manuscript. Obviously, one perspective will be limited and somewhat subjective. Readers are encouraged to study the original manuscripts and draw their own conclusions.

Cold December Tuesday

I sat in Freshman Rhetoric on Tuesday hating everything to do with learning. It was still early in the morning, so I hated everything at that moment. I hated getting up. I hated taking a shower. I hated being out of mousse. I hated stealing my suitemate’s hair gel. I hated that the cafeteria was out of eggs. And I hated Freshman Rhetoric. Our teacher was ranting on and trying to draw a conclusion between a dog she had recently adopted and Thoreau’s "Civil Disobedience." I thought class would never end. Finally, however, it did. I bought a Mountain Dew from the pop machine in the hall on the way out. The sweet rush of caffeine is rather effective at removing the hate.

I stepped out of the classroom building into the depressing gray atmosphere of the campus in winter. What better way to begin the day than an unnecessary class followed by a heretical message from some random chapel speaker? Such is my life. I began the treacherous hike to the church building. Perhaps if the school spent less money on graven images and grade F bologna they could build an on campus sanctuary. But nobody ever asks me about these things.
Calvary Church loomed large at the end of the icy parking lot. A snow covered monolith erected in honor of our Lord and named after the hill upon which He was killed in the most gruesome way possible. “Place of the Skull” Church. How lovely. I suppose it's not much worse than “Mars Hill”, the temple where the Athenians worshipped their god of war. But I digress.

The chapel Nazi scanned my ration card and, having received clearance for worship, I took my usual seat in the back of the auditorium. Steve was already there.
"Hey."
"'Sup dawg?" Steve was in one of his moods again. We sat in reverent silence as we awaited the service to commence. At least, we would have, had either of us been normal. Steve hung from the underside of the stairwell as we attempted with all our strength to figure out where the heck Calvinists were coming from. Reaching no consensus, we begin to discuss the possible
location of the dinosaur statues in Pee-Wee's Big Adventure.

Our conversation ended as a life-size Ken doll into which God had breathed the breath-assure of life and blessed with a double portion of charm crossed the stage and, with a grin like a piano, began to strum a guitar. The audience joined him in singing pretty words with little meaning in an attempt to appease the God they claim to worship. In a droning chant they tried to convince Him that they were singing loudly, dancing wildly, and ringing a huge bell. To an outsider it would appear that the deity being worshipped was either incredibly gullible, or He just didn't care if He was lied to.

Once the daily singing had ended, a sweaty fat man came up on stage and began talking about politics. His Bible must have been stolen by heathens, for it was not to be seen on his person. After proving to his satisfaction that Christ did not have dimpled chads, he praised the Magna Carta as "the NEW New Testament." After encouraging us to restore morality to our nation by
punching holes in paper, he dismissed us. My suitemate Justin threw me a nod on his way out. The guy looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Some friends and I joked about the service on the way back. I laughed on the outside, but something inside of me wept. I think it was my spleen.

My roommate was already in the room when I got there. He was playing a new bass riff he had composed last night. That's the thing about Seth. No matter how late it is, he never deprives me of the privilege of hearing his music. What a guy.

I sat down at my computer and began to put the finishing touches on the speech that I would present in three hours. Seth said something, but I don't remember what. Suddenly the door burst open and Justin walked in.
"Wasn't chapel today great!" he beamed. I love Justin to death, but sometimes I don't know if he has the capacity for rational thought.
"No," I said, "it wasn't. The guy said nothing that made any sense, and the verses he completely out of context. It was awful."
"Yeah, but he made some good points," Justin countered.
"He was an idiot," interjected Seth, always ready with a thoughtful perspective.
"Lunch at 11?" asked Justin.
"Sure," I said, returning to my computer. As Justin left, Seth farted and began giggling uncontrollably.
Justin came back at 11:00. He is nothing if not punctual.
"Ready for lickety-lunch?" he asked.
"You idiot," said Seth, farting.
"Yeah," I said. Justin was wearing my leather jacket as he had been for the past week, so I pulled my rubber coat on over my hoodie. As we stepped out into the chilly air, Justin made a facetious comment about the class and sophistication of my roommate.
"Ugh," I replied. "I cannot stand that guy."
Justin then went into a crazy rant on the importance of studying music. I tried to sound interested, but I failed.

As we entered the dining commons, I threw my backpack on the floor and followed Justin into the mailroom. I hadn’t received any mail. The muffled sobs from the direction of Justin’s mailbox indicated to me that he hadn’t either.

We joined the lunch line and each grabbed a tray and some silverware. I bypassed the trays of rice and chicken and went to make a sandwich. With tray piled high with cold cuts and curly fries, I headed for the dessert line. I placed two rice crispy treats on my plate. Justin joined
me and we looked for a seat. Christine and Jen were sitting in the back of the cafeteria. They pretended not to see us, but we went and sat with them anyway.

With incredible tact, Justin turned to Jen and said, "How’s your butt?" I swear that’s what he said. Jen laughed and went into detail about each bowel movement she had had that week. When that conversation grew dull, she went into an amusing anecdote about her brother’s realization of, shall we say, le difference.
"You," I said, "are the most awful thing God ever dropped on the earth." This apparently offended Jen and she stormed out. I guess I said something inappropriate.

Suddenly the air was rent by a storm of obscenity.
"That has to be Amanda," Justin groaned.
"No," said Christine. "Look!"
A girl was standing on a table in the middle of the cafeteria screaming and cursing. Her unkempt hair flailed around her as she screamed. I think she said something about stewardship, but she was pretty incoherent.
"Is that…?" I stammered.
“Yeah, that’s Janna,” said Justin.
"Man," I said, "she’s really let herself go since Lisa left."
"Sad story," said Christine. "Whatever happened to Lisa?"
"I think she’s selling flowers in the Bronx," Justin replied. "There’s a Bronx in New York, right?" "Yeah," I answered through a mouthfull of crispy rice and marshmallow. "Well, that figures. I always thought she’d make a good mother for New York mobsters." My insightful musings were suddenly interrupted by a hand grabbing my inner thigh.
"Guess what state I’m thinking of," Amanda teased.
"Insanity?" I guessed. Apparently I was wrong.
"What ya doin’ today, sexy?" she asked.
"I have to give a speech at one," I replied.
"Is it about sex?" asked Amanda.
"No," I responded. At this Amanda lost all interest and began to tell Justin he should get a Mohawk.

Justin and I followed Christine out of the cafeteria toward the bookstore building.
"What class do you have now?" I asked Justin.
"Inquiry," he replied.
"Sweet," I turned to Christine. "Do you have class now?"
"No."
"Would you like a tour of the bookstore?" I offered. She looked appalled.
"What did you say?" she gasped. I repeated myself slowly.
"Oh! That’s not what I thought you said."
"Oh. Well, do you."
"Indeed," she replied.
Bookstore tours give me much joy. There is a Christian Book Store on our campus right by the café. It’s always good for a laugh. It’s full of weird merchandise made to look as if it glorifies God. Who knew Christianity was so marketable? I mean, you never see other religions do this. There are no Muslim Book Stores. Can you imagine a Mohammad action figure? You pull a string and it falls down and vibrates. Then it gets up and prophesies. Muslims wouldn’t stand for it! I don’t know why we Christians put up with all the junk in the Christian Book Store.

We entered and walked past a large display of nativity scenes.
"Ooh," I grunted, "I've heard rumors of an interesting sculpture here."
"What is it?"
Turning over a figure of Mary holding Jesus, I exclaimed, "Here it is!"
I handed it to Christine, showing her the dedication that a sculptor had put into his work to provide the figure of the Christ child with a, well, you know. Christine rolled her eyes and chuckled as we passed a rack of T-shirts emblazoned with the question “God, why don’t you end violence in schools” followed by the response "I'm not allowed in schools" signed God. The word
of God printed on a T-shirt. This, apparently, was God’s new revelation. Better let "Mr. Magna Carta" know.
"I see the federal government continues to limit the work of our omnipotent Lord."
"Indeed," Christine responded. "Come look at these." Christine was perusing a rack of key-chains on the back wall of the store. There were several designs, each with the ball of a particular sport with words etched into the pewter around them. Upon further inspection, I saw that the inscription declared, "In Jesus’ Name I Play."
"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed.
"That’s awful," agreed Christine.
We quickly left that area of the store. An end-cap on one of the aisles had a selection of Chicken Soup for the Soul rip-offs.
"They should have just done the one book and left it alone," Christine observed.
"I agree," I said. "They have Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul, for the College Soul, for the Retired Soul."
"Chicken Soup for the Illiterate Soul," added Christine, smiling.
"What’s that?" I laughed, "Just 'inspirational' pictures?"
Reaching the aisle with the C. S. Lewis books, we immediately sobered.
"These are awesome," I said, picking up a hard cover set of The Chronicles of Narnia. I stepped back to get a better look and bumped into the lady standing behind me. Christine stifled her laughter as I apologized.
"I could have told you about her," she said as we left, "but I didn't."
"Appreciated," I thanked her. We passed by the Jesus action figures and out the door.

We parted ways as I headed for speech class. You recall that speech that I have mentioned several times in this story? Well, I lucked out. I didn’t have to do it that day. Instead I got to sit and listen to 12 other people’s speeches; fascinating topics such as the history of origami, why the school needs a pool, and why making a career of slaughtering our government’s political enemies is a great way for a young person to make a living. I’m guessing that in future classes, speech topics will be more homogenized.

I met Justin for supper at about five o’ clock. Between gulps of Root Beer, we discussed the unfortunate situation concerning Janna. The official story is that she “lost her marbles”and was expelled from school. I was unaware of marble losing being forbidden by the handbook, but apparently in rates right up there with dancing in terms of sinfulness. I guess Janna tried to move into Tom’s cubbyhole and was removed by security. That’s probably the closest Tom will ever come to sharing his home with a woman.

We were joined presently by Lori Beth, the consummate blonde who is the only person I have ever heard utter the phrase "I don’t get it!" in perfect valley-girl inflection, and mean it. But she might have information, so we allowed her to stay.
"Have you heard from Janna?" Justin inquired.
"Who?" Lori stared blankly. "Oh! Well, I just heard from Lisa and she said that Janna is staying with her family. She also said 'I ain’t no hoe, Moe!' Isn’t that funny? She also sent me this flower." Lori held up a large daisy. "I think she was eating donuts when she wrapped it, look. It's covered with white powder. It smells good." Lori began to drool, but both Justin and I were too polite to mention it.
"Uh-oh," Justin said suddenly. "There’s Sloth." He pointed to Seth, who sat down at a table full of relatively attractive young women. He proceeded to belch loudly and followed that up by hugging each and every one of the girls at the table. They all laughed and flirted with him. It was pretty gross to watch.
"I can’t eat any more," I said.
"Me neither," replied Justin. Lori just kept staring at Seth.
"Jerry hugs me like that," she sighed. She sniffed the daisy again. "I wonder if Jerry's sniffing a daisy right now. What color is God?" We left Lori to her intoxicated musings. Walking out the cafeteria doors, we were stopped by two of the girls from Seth’s table.
"Hey," they called. "Can you talk to Seth? He’s always touching us and he's so gross."
"You know," I said, "You might simply say something to Seth yourself." My wise alliteration seemed to go unheeded and the girls walked away in a huff. Justin just stood there with his mouth open and his tongue hanging out. Then he smiled.
“Come on,” I said, snapping Justin out of his delusion.

The soft twilight glowed blue upon the fresh blanket of snow as Justin and I trudged back to the dorm. The lampposts clicked on and added an amber hue to the night air. The air was brisk and the snow falling on the trees gave one the feeling of living in a holiday snow globe. I took a deep breath and looked around.

"Soon," I thought, "I'll be scrubbing toilets."

Things That Tick Me Off

2005-10-24T14:00:00.000-05:00

Somewhere packed away in a box in the garage, I have a journal by that name. It's supposed to be therapeutic, but I don't do well with journals. I can't help but feel that I'm defacing a book if what I write isn't brilliant. But I don't have that much reverence for the blogosphere.

1. Those stupid magnetic ribbons that people have on the backs of their cars. As if you could really pin a bow on your car. They usually say something such as "Freedom Isn't Free" (yes it is) or "Support Our Troops" (whatever that means). They tick me off.

2. Burger King Chicken Fries. Finally, a way to sell more deep-fried nothing than meat. I mean, who was eating a chicken tender and thought, "Whoa. This is way too much"?

3. When people who should know better misuse language. See Bibliophilia for my take on "intrical." Other examples: nucular, jive when jibe is appropriate, using smooth as a verb.

Further bulletins as my mood degenerates.

We're gonna be uncles!

2005-10-12T21:27:00.000-05:00

These are some of the first pictures of our new nephew. Sister's birthday wish was for a sonogram, since the first time, the baby kept his legs crossed, and the sex could not be determined. So we all pitched in and got some pictures in return.

Be sure to wish the mother a happy birthday!

Where the Old Yellow Fern Grows

2005-10-08T12:31:00.000-05:00

Yesterday Christine's dog Bubba had to be put to sleep. He had liver cancer that was untreatable, and he wouldn't have lasted much longer. He was a sweet dog, except for his breath, and he looked exactly like I picture Fortinbras in A Wrinkle in Time (despite the fact that he doesn't match Madeline L'Engle's description at all).

Now we're down to one dog, Murphy, who looks exactly like a dingo and has the most personality of any dog I've ever known. He keeps begging to be let outside, where he runs around looking for Bubba. He's lonely. Christine's parents are talking about getting another dog. Christine's trying to talk them into getting a pug. I don't think it's going to happen.

Sorry I haven't been visible in any form in the last week. I've become addicted to a new computer game, Neverwinter Nights. I know, it's lame, but while you might think I've been doing nothing, I've actually tracked down four magical creatures to make a cure for the plague that was started by a cult that had secretly infiltrated the upper echelons of Neverwinter's government. And you wonder why I don't have time for you commoners.

I'll do my best to come up for air more often. Thanks for letting me know you miss me.

My New Leg

2005-09-24T10:05:00.000-05:00

Yesterday marked ten weeks since the accident. The bones are still not fusing and have lost some density below the fractures, but the doctor seemed to think that was normal. The good news is that I now have a cam walker boot which makes me feel like C-3PO. I'm not sure why it's called a cam boot, but I don't care. I can take it off! I came home and showered it for about half an hour. The amazing feeling of being able to scratch it was almost worth the last ten weeks.

Now I'm going to describe my leg. It's gross, so proceed at your own risk.

My leg is flaking, but because it's been sealed in for freshness, it's not dry and flaky; it's wet and flaky. When I first began scratching, the skin caked under my fingernails, and I have what looks like a diaper rash on my calf. The bottom of my foot was covered in yellow callouses, which came off like paste onto my towel. Now I need to vacuum the floor anytime I have the cast off and am scratching.

Hooray for scratching!

Happy Birthday, Uncle Doo-Doo

2005-09-21T09:14:00.000-05:00

Today is Andrew's (aka, Calvin, The Kleyn, Uncle Doo-Doo) 21st birthday. Send him your best wishes for a Doo-Doo-riffic year.

The Post That Bloggers Who Update Biennially Insist Is Too Long Coming

2005-09-15T17:26:00.000-05:00

It's now been two months since I broke my leg. That means I've had 62 days of enforced free time. And what do I have to show for it? Do you know Ethel Squat's nephew Jack? I have no motivation to do anything, and I feel no remorse for the time wasted. Isn't that a form of depression? Sigh. I am a fat, worthless load. Oh, wait! I do have a Sim City with 100,000 residents, and of the dozens of applications I sent out, I've received one rejection letter. Christianity Today sent me an assignment. I did it, and I got no response. But since I'm on workers' comp, I can't work anyway, so no big deal.

Has anyone been watching the "Evolution Schmevolution" special report on The Daily Show? The last installment is tonight. I highly recommend it.

This weekend I'm attending a conference at Cornerstone University entitled "After Evangelicalism." I edited papers presented at last year's conference, "After Worldview," so I'm receiving free admission, which is why I can go.

Also, Andrew Kleyn, aka Calvin (not after the underwear guy, but after his responsibility absolving theology), turns 21 this week, so I'll be celebrating with him. Wish him Happy Birthday.

Hi mom!

2005-09-11T20:53:00.000-05:00

Say hi to my mom.

Request for prayer

2005-09-05T15:22:00.000-05:00

This morning Christine's mom was thrown into a fence while riding one of her horses. She spent the day at the hospital being tested for a concussion, fractures, and internal injuries. We just talked to her sister, who said that they are on their way home. The final diagnosis is four fractured ribs and a broken shoulder. No internal injuries so far as we know, but we have to watch her for the next couple of days.

Fortunately, we had extended family over for the holiday, and mom's sister and friend, both of whom are nurses, were with her when the accident occured.

Last weekend

2005-09-01T16:45:00.000-05:00

As I said, last weekend was great, aside from having my leg bound in an itchy, Fiberglas prison for four more weeks.

Saturday I attended what threatens to be the last Pie Night. The term Pie Night was coined by Justin "Wicked Good Bee-ah" Stover, my freshman year roommate from Maine (Official State Motto - "Holy porkchop, it went in the puckerbrush!"). Justin has a gift for giving things stupid nicknames that stick. Pie Night is one such example. My sophomore year I decided I wanted to be the disgusting roommate, so I kicked Justin out and moved in with my cousin Chris ("The Dish" to those of you in the blogosphere). Chris's mom makes the best homemade pizza in the world, and every couple of weeks, a group of us would go over to Chris's house to have homemade pizza and watch movies, usually based on a theme (e.g., movies Chris's girlfriend likes). Since pizzas are pies, Justin called the semi-monthly event Pie Night, and the name stuck.

Saturday's Pie Night was stellar. The TV is in the basement, and I didn't feel like scooting down the stairs on my butt like a worm-ridden dog, so I sat at the table upstairs and played games with Racie, the Andrews, and Zach. This is one of my all-time favorite things to do. When I was in England feeling homesick, I was missing playing games with my friends.

For my birthday last year, Christine's parents and brother got me "Betrayal at House on the Hill," the greatest board game ever made. We played a couple rounds of what Andrew's girlfriend Mary dubbed "Hell Game," and then we played "Ex Libris," a game I picked up in Oxford. If you've played "Balderdash" or the Dictionary Game, the premise will be familiar. All players receive a sheet of paper, and the reader draws a card from the box. The card has the title of a book, the author, date and summary, which the reader reads (thus earning the title of reader). Then the reader flips a coin (in England I got a pentagonal coin with a book on the tails side, which seemed appropriate). If the coin lands on heads, all players create a plausible first line for the book, while the reader writes the actual first line from the card. If it is tails, the last line is used. Once everyone has finished, the reader reads (again) all the lines, and the rest of the players pick which line they think is the real one. Players receive one point for guessing the correct line and one point for every vote their made-up line gets, and the reader gets two points if no one guesses the correct line. You could play this game with a stack of books and a notebook, and if you read a lot or have friends who are English majors, I suggest that you do.

The rest of the weekend I spent with family. Chris leaves for grad school in Toronto tomorrow, so we had a farewell drink on Sunday.

Vive la Pie Night!

Just shoot me

2005-08-30T23:01:00.000-05:00

When I broke my leg and had surgery on July 15, my doctor and nurses told me that my recovery would take six to eight months, so this is the information that I passed on to family and friends. The unanimous response was, "Oh, you were just high on morphine. They said six to eight weeks." Could be, I thought. Great, six to eight weeks.

Friday I finally got to see a doctor in Illinois. This was six weeks after my surgery, so I'm thinking, Today I'll find out if I get the cast off today or in two weeks. Well guess what? Turns out I did hear correctly, and for the first time in my life, I wish I weren't right.

The projected time that I'll be up and walking again is 20 weeks. No, I didn't mistype a zero, and no, I don't mean 20 days. Twenty weeks. In the meantime, I'm physically able to sit. Even the activity I was doing, my doctor says is too much.

So my leg is back in a fiberglass cast, and in four more weeks, I may get one of those robo-leg casts that I'll be able to remove so I can move my ankle. Not walk yet, but move my ankle. Not even baby steps. This is the pre-"What About Bob" therapy. Move your ankle around the desk. Move your ankle get on an elevator. I aspire to baby steps.

The rest of my weekend was great, and I'll tell you all about it later.

Clowns and Babies

2005-08-20T17:08:00.000-05:00

I remember my first Halloween. My parents made me up like a clown. In the pictures, I am adorable. At the time, I was terrified.

I remember sitting in front of my parents' large bedroom mirror as they put the makeup on me. I could see my mom and my dad, and I could see me. But it wasn't me! It was a terrifying doppleganger of me with red hair and bright red lipstick. I had been replaced! That's a terrifying thought for a small child.

That particular transformation may be the root of my lifelong fear of clowns. Around the same time, my parents used to take me to a McDonalds that had a life-sized statue of Ronald McDonald, who I called "Funny Clown" (or, as my mom impersonates my voice at that age, Fuh-neee Clah-ooon). If I knew we were going, I would start to say, "I want to see Funny Clown!" and not stop until I was standing in front of the statue, at which point I would begin to shriek, "No like Funny Clown!" Then my parents would pacify me with a strawberry shake and fries.

Lest you think all of my early childhood memories are traumatic, I shall recount my memory of the birth of my sister. My dad drove me to the hospital to see my mom and the new baby. The whole way there, he kept telling me, "Mommy isn't going to be able to pick you up. She's very weak, so don't ask her to hold you," over and over again. I recall thinking the two-year-old mind's equivalent of, "What do you think I am, an idiot? Of course she's too weak to pick me up. She just squeezed a person out of her body for crying out loud!"

We arrived at the hospital, and I saw my little sister for the first time. I saw her through a glass window; it was kind of like the zoo. I can still see the image in my head of her tiny body lying in whatever the plastic troughs hospitals lay babies in are called, her tiny hand curled under her chin as she slept. Then my mom came out to see us. She was wearing a blue hospital gown with dots on it, and she did indeed look weak. But guess what the first thing I said to her was. "Pick me up, mom." Not despite my dad's admonitions, because of them. I later learned that I inherited this particular character flaw from my mom. She and my dad were walking through a Parade of Homes house that had a note on the window that said "Please do not touch the curtains." My mom said that she never would have dreamed of touching the curtains, but because of the sign, she wanted to.

In January, that tiny little baby who I saw through hospital glass 22 years ago will have a baby of her own. It is apparently a modest child (unlike its mother), so I don't know if I will be an aunt or an uncle, but I do know that I will not ask the mother to pick me up. She once broke her fingers trying to do that.

Memory

2005-08-19T15:35:00.000-05:00

I learned in my Intro to Psychology class in college that any memories before the age of five are suspect and probably constructed from what someone else told you about the events you "remember." While I enjoyed most of the class very much, I thought this was a load of crap. I have many memories before the age of five, and I remember details that no one taold me.

When I was two years old, my family (meaning my parents and I) lived in a converted boarding house. We lived upstairs for a while, then downstairs. Sometimes we shared the house with family friends, other times with a psychotic woman who sang "There is a Balm in Gilead" while her children screamed. Apparently, when we lived downstairs, some women lived in the room above my room, and they used to wake me up having loud, screaming sex with different guys every night. I don't remember that (although I do remember their coming over and introducing themselves when they moved in; they seemed nice).

What I do remember about that house is playing outside. When I was five or six, we moved to a less nice neighborhood, and I played outside less frequently. But I played outside all day at this house. The neighbors next door seem to have changed about as often as those up- or downstairs. The first neighbors I remember are Adam and Bobbi-Jo. We used to ride bikes in the driveway between our houses. They had a big-wheel. I had Bucky the Wonder Horse. He had a red saddle that you could lift and he had a storage compartment inside. In case, I guess, I wanted to load him up with coffee and baked beans and ride off into the sunset.

Sometimes we would play in the backyard. Later, a family with older kids would move in and monopolize it, but at this point, we could go back there. One feature of this backyard was a cellar door leading to the house's basement (on a side note, J.R.R. Tolkein said that "cellar door" was the most beautiful word in the English language). The door couldn't have stood more than two feet at its highest point, but to my two-year-old mind, it was an Everest that must be scaled (sadly, I had no rain barrel to slide down).

I remember one day playing in the backyard with Adam and Bobbi-Jo. My mom was there somewhere, gardening or something, and I began to climb the doors. But on this particular day, something was different: one of the cellar doors was open. As I was climbing the closed door, I began to teeter. My top-heavy frame (which is larger now, but still top-heavy) fell through the open door and rolled down a flight of cement steps before coming to a stop on the cold basement floor. the next thing I remember is sitting in the kitchen, screaming while my mom slapped Band-Aids on my owies. This I remember vividly. The kitchen was yellow, and the sun was streaming through the big window. The light was so bright and the room so yellow that it felt like sitting in the sun. Then, someone knocked on the door. It was Adam. he had retrieved the rattle that I dropped and brought it to me, knowing it would make me feel better. It wasn't a normal rattle, nothing Tweedle-Dee and Dum would have fought over. It was like one of those bead mazes you find in dentist waiting rooms or church nurseries, only straight, and it had different brightly colored blocks on it. Because no one climbs a mountain without a staff.

Thinking back on the event now, I realize that my mom was around the age I am now. I can't imagine how I would respond to my child falling into a cement basement. But she apparently did OK, because, while I remember the event clearly, I'm not scarred by it.

Take that, Psychology.

Is health really worth it?

2005-08-17T12:33:00.000-05:00

Thanks to everybody who shared their thoughts on the last post. I hope the conversation continues.

In the meantime, I am wrestling with my own health issues. Let me recap. I broke my leg in Michigan. I had surgery in Michigan. I went home to Illinois. I returned to Michigan to have a cast put on. I returned to Illinois with a reference for a doctor in Illinois. OK.

I have been staying off my leg, and the swelling has gone down, which means my cast became loose. I called my doctor in Michigan, who told me I'd need it replaced. So I called the doctor in Illinois to get an appointment. A week later, the billing manager calls me to say that they don't take my insurane. The doctor in Michigan doesn't know any other doctors in the area.

So I've spent the last week on the phone with doctors and insurance companies, which is just a butt-load of fun. In the meantime, I've spent more time up and moving around, which is good, but my cast is no longer loose. In fact, it's tight in some places. And I am developing a bad case of athlete's foot. Me. Athlete's foot. What the hell? And I got a bug bite on my hip. All the same leg. I'd say it's my lightning rod for painful complications, except that I injured my other leg at camp a year ago. This is why I stay inside reading most of the time!

Sigh.

To sum up, talking to doctors and insurance companies is more painful than breaking a leg.

Jagged Little Pill

2005-08-11T17:00:00.000-05:00

I generally avoid discussing controversial issues on this blog, saving such discussion instead for another blog that I don't link to from here to avoid offending people, but I want the opinions and insights of people who read this blog and don't know about the other. My mom, being a mother herself, has linked up with several other family/motherhood bloggers, and I especially invite comments from those who have likewise been linked to me through my mom.

The issue I wish to discuss is birth control.

My wife begins graduate school on Monday, and I graduated in May and am still seeking employment. A child does not fit into our life right now. At this point one would disrupt the direction we are going, and we would not be able to care for one as we'd like. So we use birth control. We received no backlash from our Christian families, and few people at our Christian school expressed opinions to the contrary. Is this normal?

The arguments I have heard against birth control thus far ring hollow to me. Some say that God gave humanity the command to be fruitful and multiply. I agree completely, but:
1.) With more than six trillion people on the planet, I think we can safely say, "Mission Accomplished" and actually be correct.
2.) The argument implies that the fact that I'm not having unprotected sex at this moment is a violation of God's command.
3.) We fully intend to populate the earth with our offspring, just not right now.

I have talked to others who are proponents of natural birth control and understanding monthly cycles and abstaining from sex when the wife is able to conceive. I don't understand this either.
1.) The same science that helps me understand when conception is possible has also created a pill that accomplishes the same thing.
2.) It's still preventing life, so I don't see how it's any different.

Is this a generational issue, one that was once controversial, but which most newlyweds, even Christians, simply accept as a matter of course? That's certainly how it was for my wife and me, and we are adamantly pro-life, meaning we oppose not only abortion but war and the death penalty. Neither of us considers birth control a violation of our deeply held convictions.

I know that some will disagree, and those are the people whose comments I eagerly await. I certainly will gain nothing by convincing you to agree with me, so don't be afraid to say what you think. All I ask is that, whether you agree or not, you offer your comments in a spirit of love as we attempt together to get at the truth, which is, I hope, important to all of us. Any arguments that I perceive to be ad hominem will be deleted.

Ugh...

2005-08-08T17:16:00.000-05:00

If you've ever thought that sitting around all day being waited on sounded nice, then you've never had to do it. Anybody who has can tell you that it sucks. Sure, it sounds nice, and it may be if you have servants whose job is to pander to your every whim. I can't imagine Jeeves ever saying, "I'll get your pipe and slippers when I damn well feel like it. And why do you need to eat anyway, you've been sitting around all day?" Family can say those things. Apparently money buys more grace than love does.

I kid, of course. I am well cared for. But if you'd like to lend me your butler, I would very much appreciate it.

As I lie around trying not to think about how much my unreachable ankle itches, I find myself thinking. Since I am already irritable, my thinking is for the most part unpleasant. I have, in the past three weeks or so, considered everything anyone has ever done that I didn't like. If you've ever done anything that ticked me off, I've thought about it. I may be thinking about it right now. It may have happened long ago, and I may have forgiven you, but right now, I hate you for it.

So, since misery loves company, lets all list our biggest pet peeves. Mine is people reading my blog without commenting. If you've ever done this, I'm angry with you. But you can make up for it by getting me a glass of water. And a sandwich. And on your way, turn the fan up to medium. And toss me that blanket. Do we have any chips?

Check Up #2

2005-07-30T10:59:00.000-05:00

Thursday Christine and I headed up to GR for my Friday morning appointment. I was able to sit in the front seat, which was good, because I got really carsick in the back seat. I was even able to use the bathroom at Wendy's, my first outdoor excursion besides the hospital. It was magical.

At check up #1, the nurse told me to take a Vicodin before having my staples removed, so I anticipated that it would be painful. It wasn't too bad; it kind of felt like having hairs plucked, except for the staples directly above the fractured bones. That hurt.

After the nurse removed the staples, she put on my cast. She put a stand in front of me that I was supposed to put my foot on and drop my heel so that my foot and leg were at a ninety degree angle. That was impossible. So she had me lie on my stomach and raise my leg. Then it was easier for me to put my foot at the right angle. But apparently my foot still angled outward, so she called in the doctor, who wrenched my foot into the right angle. Thought I was gonna die. It hurt worse than the initial break. The nurse said they let the doctor be the bad guy, but since he prescribes the drugs, I guess it evens out.

Now the cast is on (it's blue), and my leg is much more supported. I still can't put weight on it, but I can set it down for balance. I'm hoping to have job interviews soon, so I won't be letting anyone sign it. Sorry.

Pre-check up #2

2005-07-27T22:08:00.000-05:00

I apologize that my posting has been rather sporadic lately, but the Vicodin makes any activity more strenuous than watching TV or playing computer games a little strenuous.

Tomorrow we head up to Michigan. My second appointment is Friday, when I get my staples removed and my permanent fiber glass cast put on. Yippee!

In other news, Christine passed her math course and so will begin her assistantship in two weeks. She's very excited and nervous. With the math course over, she has a bit of a break until grad school starts, and when she's not waiting on her invalid husband, she's watching Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Her mom found a video store that has all seven seasons to rent, so Christine began with season one, episode one and is now on season five. I watch them once in a while, and while some are interesting, others are incredibly stupid.

An example of the latter, a character realizes that something is amiss on the space station, so he scans everyone with a tricorder. When he turns it on himself, he discovers that he is producing only alpha waves, which means he is in a coma. So everything around him is part of his dream, including the tricorder that accurately read his alpha waves and revealed that he was in a coma and everything around him was a figment of his imagination! In case you missed it, that's INCLUDING THE TRICORDER! AAAAARGH!

One positive is the character Dax, who has a two-hundred-year-old tapeworm that has had several previous hosts, whose personalities manifest in Dax. That's stupid, but the character is wicked hot, so I'm willing to suspend disbelief. She eventually hooks up with Worf, my favorite Star Trek character ever.

I, meanwhile, am addicted to a computer game called BigJig. It's a virtual jigsaw puzzle. You can pick the number of pieces, style, colors, and download one free puzzle per week. Check it out.

Ah, to be clean again

2005-07-23T12:06:00.000-05:00

My mom's blog said that Christine and I made it home safe, and she included a link to mine, so I figured I should corroborate her claims. Thursday morning I took my Vicodin along with two Dramamine and slept in the backseat of the car for the more than four-hour journey from my parents' house in Grand Rapids, MI to my in-laws' house in Union, IL. That's a testament to the drowsy side-effects of the drugs, not to the comfort of our backseat. Believe me, if my wife and I are in the car together and I'm reclining in the backseat, there are a few things I'd rather be doing than nursing a broken leg.

Friday I was finally able to take a shower. Not that sponge baths aren't great, but I'm a large man, and I inherited my grandfather's family's sweat glands, so they weren't cutting it after a week of 90+ degree weather.

I received an assignment from one of the jobs I applied to as part of the hiring process, but I've either been to drugged or in too much pain to work on it this week, so pray that they won't weigh turnover too heavily. I'd love to get this job.

Check Up #1

2005-07-20T10:38:00.000-05:00

This morning I went back to my doctor to have my dressing changed. I got three new X-rays, and since I was only on Vicodin, I remember seeing them. I have two plates and ten screws in my leg. It looked really weird.

The most disturbing part, though, was my leg itself. It's swollen, misshapen, and bruised. I have a large incision on the outside and several small ones on the inside where all the screws went in.

The dressing was changed, and the doctor said that everything looked perfect (which I thought was an odd word choice). I go back next Friday to get the staples taken out of my incisions and get a permanent cast. The doctor said I won't be able to put any weight on it for four weeks.

Or an hour and a half as it turned out. When I got back to my parents house, I lost my balance on the steps and came down on my broken leg. Twice. I cried.

Sitting in the backseat bent so that my leg was propped up made me incredibly carsick, so we won't be heading home today. I feel bad, because Christine has been so wonderful, and I know she'd rather be in Illinois. We should be leaving tomorrow morning.

Until then, another day of movies and naps. Send me e-mail. It helps.

Why I cried for the first time in years

2005-07-18T17:21:00.000-05:00

Parts of this story are disturbing, but they are all true (as well as I can recall them). Be warned.

One of my assignments at camp last week was running the waterslide with another cabin leader. One of us had to stand at the top and spray campers before they went down; the other stood at the bottom to make sure campers got off safely and to announce to the person at the top that the next camper could come down. With the canoe trip in the middle of the week, we only had the waterslide open for two days. The first day, we played rock, scissors, paper to see who had to go to the bottom. I won (I always win; I kick butt at rock, scissors, paper), so I got to stand at the top and spray campers with freezing water.

Friday was the next day for waterslide, and my partner claimed that I had said that I would go to the bottom because she went last time. This does not sound like something I would say, so I argued that we should play again. She refused and insisted that I go. I decided to take the waterslide down. I turned on the water, took off my shirt and sandals, and held onto my backpack. I hopped onto the slide, my feet slid out, and I landed on my butt and slid to the bottom of the slide.

Actually, that's what happened the previous hundred times I've gone down this waterslide. On this particular day, my left foot hit a dry part of the slide and instead of sliding in front of me, it bent outward and I collapsed into the water. Are you squinting and baring your teeth in a grimace? That's been a common response.

I called my partner and told her that I had broken my ankle. She didn't believe me and thought I intended to push her down the slide. Until she saw the angle at which my foot was bent. She then ran for the nurse who arrived in her golf cart, followed by my brother in his golf cart (incidentally the golf cart that I crashed into a tree five years ago, injuring my other leg). My brother gave me a hard time. "Give me a break!" he said. I told him I just had one (witty as ever under stress), and when he saw my foot, his balls shrank to the size of raisins.

My brother made further sarcastic comments that he will not tell me about, but redeemed himself by driving me to the hospital, giving me his rubber bracelet to gnaw on, and not telling anyone how I cried like a little girl in the backseat of the car.

The X-rays revealed that I had three-inch spiral fractures in both my tibia and fibula and a third vertical fracture near the ankle. I don't really remember. I had a lot of pain medication in me at the time.

My injury required surgery, so I called Christine and had her come up from Illinois. My parents also came to stay at the hospital.

They gave me an epideral and I believe something else, but I don't recall what. I woke up on the table and was able to wiggle my toes shortly afterward. The camp director and his wife came to see me, which was nice. Christine showed up a little while later, which was even more wonderful. remember, I've been away from home for two weeks, so I would have rather seen her under happier circumstances, but it was great to see her nevertheless.

Four hours after my surgery was over, I still hadn't urinated, and the nurse told me that if I didn't go soon, I'd need a catheter. I have shy kidneys, so I asked Christine to leave. I didn't pee while she was gone, but I did manage to vomit all over myself. I paged the nurse, who cleaned me off, and when Christine came back, I asked her never to leave again. I slept and woke up every couple of hours to vomit and not pee. So after I hadn't peed for nearly twelve hours, they gave me the catheter.

If you've never had something go UP your urethra, I can tell you it is as awful as you imagine it might be. If you have had the experience, I am so sorry. I couldn't watch, but Christine says that once it was in, I peed seventeen milliliters.

Since the next morning, I have been able to go on my own. I would be annoyed at having to hobble on a crutch to the bathroom, except that the annoyance is outweighed by the euphoria of not having something jammed UP my urethra.

I've spent the last three days lying on the couch at my parents house watching movies and falling into Vicodin induced slumber. I also finished the new Harry Potter book. And I have a metal plate and several screws in my leg.

That's the story as I remember it. If anyone else who was there tells you anything different, believe them. I was really drugged up.

Hello mother, hello father...

2005-07-09T18:34:00.000-05:00

I survived my fifth summer of what used to be called MI (Mentally Impaired) week, now called Freddy's Friends in honor of a puppet the campers all love who can never seem to remember the memory verse. As I said in my last post, the program is really growing, and it was great to be a part of it again.

The camp itself is divided up into The Ridge where the Jr. and Sr. High campers stay during the regular summer program, and the Main Camp (which sounds disturbingly like the title of Hitler's book) where the 7-year-olds through 6th graders stay. The Main Camp cabins house up to twelve campers and a cabin leader and have electricity and plumbing. The ridge has tabits, which I assume is a combination of tent and cabin because that's what they look like. Imagine chicken coop, and you're on the right track. I lived in one for four summers and loved it, which surprises many people who know that I am not generally an outdoorsy person.

This week, Freddy's Friends week was so full that they had to use the tabits, and I got to spend the week in my old home away from home. It still says "Buddy's Cabin" on the outside, the work of friendly vandals five years ago. The holder for my portable alarm clock is still stuck to the inside wall, and the one rule written by my predecessor is still above the door: "Whatever is said in the cabin stays in the cabin."

the tabits don't work quite as well for the challenged as they do for teenagers, but we made it work and had a great time. Several yards into the woods is a large tree that has a capital "P" sprayed on it. Can you guess what it stands for? This was a concept rather new to my campers, but they took to it with vigor. I don't think anything will ever grow within three feet of it.

I had six campers, three of whom I had had when I worked there before. One of them always calls me chubby, and another decided chubby cheeks described me more accurately. It may be awhile before I remember to respond to anything besides chubby, chubby cheeks, and old man.

The food is slightly better than in previous years, but every meal still feels like an episode of Jamie's School Dinners. On the first day we had baked beans for lunch and tacos for dinner. As my mom's three-year-old friend would say, Stupid, stupid, stupid. One camper had diarrhea the entire week. On Thursday night, I had to help him while he was going on a toilet that was overflowing. His shorts and underwear were drenched with poopy water, so I got him a bag to put them in, some moist towelettes to wipe him off, and a towel to wrap around himself as we walked back to his cabin to get some dry clothes. I felt so bad for the guy. But he recovered, and so did I, and we both had a great week.

I got talked in to working next week as well. It's a Sr. High week with a canoe trip, so I'm looking forward to it. I haven't worked with this age in a while, and I'm a bit nervous about devotions. The things I want to talk about may be over their heads (they would have been over mine when I was that age). I hope to find a way to talk to them about the narrative of Scripture as Creation, Fall, Redemption, and Restoration, but I'm not sure how to introduce the concept since many come from traditions that see Christianity as abstinence from social dancing, alcohol and tobacco and asking Jesus into your hear (what ever that means). I guess this week will stretch me in different ways than last week did.

Being at camp is a challenge in itself. There's enough there that it feels like home, but enough different that I miss how things used to be. I miss the great relationships I had that are nearly non-existent now, and I regret the ones that ended poorly because of my immaturity. I'm nostalgic like crazy and hope it stops soon. The past is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

Pray for me if you think of it. I'm beginning to feel like Murtaugh in the Lethal Weapon movies: "I'm getting too old for this." I think I'll go soak my aching muscles in my sister's pool for a while.

Talk to you next week.

I shall return!

2005-07-01T09:09:00.000-05:00

I will be away for a while. I'm heading up to Michigan for the Fourth, and the following week I'll be working as a cbin leader at a camp where I used to work. Every summer they have a week of mentally challenged campers, and the program is really growing. I'm excited to help out again.

Talk to you all later.

Lions and tigers and bats. Oh my!

2005-06-20T16:15:00.000-05:00

Saturday was a very full day. Andrew and Mary arrived Friday evening, and we watched "Jaws," a movie I've been longing to see again, but which Christine refuses to watch again. Not that I blame her: sometimes I still get freaked out in my sister's pool because of that movie.

Saturday morning, Christine had to work, so she set her alarm for 6:30 am, at which time, she shut off her alarm and went back to sleep. At ten to eight, I ask her what time she's supposed to get up, and she literally flies up the stairs and gets to her 8:00 shift only ten minutes late. Well done her.

Once things calmed down, the remaining three of us showered and had breakfast. I made cinnamon raisin French toast. I don't mind telling you, it was darned good. We printed directions to Brookfield Zoo and then drove there in less time than the map said. Take that Mapquest and traffic laws!

We couldn't have asked for a better day, or as Andrew pointed out, we could have asked, but we would not have gotten it. He's a Calvinist. The sky was overcast and the weather was warm and breezy. We were a little concerned at the amount of children at the zoo on Saturday, but we soon realized that children at the zoo are not obnoxious. Parents at the zoo are the problem, because all of them, at every exhibit, begin this train of babble that goes like this: "Do you see it? Do you see it? It's right there! Look! He's swimming! He's right there! Do you see him? Do you see? Ooh! He's big!" Now, I'm all for parental enthusiasm, and I don't think parents should be self conscious about how they're perceived by others, but FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! It's a zoo! Kids see animals, they look at animals, they move on. Your inane chatter doesn't enhance the experience for anyone!

My parents took me to the zoo when I was little, and that instilled a love for zoos that has never left me. When I was younger, I wanted to design animal homes in zoos. When I grew up, I realized that architecture requires math and decided to pursue other interests. When Microsoft released Zoo Tycoon, all of my dreams came true. One element of my experience at the zoo which is no longer possible in reality or cyberland is getting my head stuck between bars. This happened nearly every time I went to the zoo despite (and in some ways because of) my father's admonition not to stick my head between the bars. I would never have thought to stick my head between the bars had he not introduced the idea in my soon to be wedged head. Now they have ordinances and stuff to prevent that from happening. Maybe if parents had to spend their time warning their children not to stick their heads through bars and then prying their heads free, they wouldn't have to fill their time with, "Do you see it? It's right there! Look! Look!"

Brookfield has beautiful exhibits created by people who can actually do math without counting on their fingers. In the Fragile Rainforest exhibit, I beheld the cutest, most precious, adorable thing I have ever seen! And I don't just bandy those adjectives around adorably. Andrew is the sort of ADD person who has to play with the animals as much as he can and is always leaning over fences and calling to the animals (but never throwing anything in or tapping on glass). One exhibit housed several birds and small mammals. The spectators were separated by a wooden fence and a large mesh net. As a tiny Asian river otter bounded past, Andrew reached across the fence and held his finger out to the otter, who reached his furry little paw out in an ottery little high five before scurrying on to do other ottery things. I nearly melted.

We spent several hours at the zoo before returning home to feast on burgers, hot dogs, and chips and then go see "Batman Begins." I have now seen this movie twice with plans to see it in the IMAX this week. It is a great movie. I have been a Batman fan since I was 12 years old. I loved Tim Burton's films and then read the comics and realized that Burton's films fell short of the mark that Joel Schumacher didn't even seem aware of. Christopher Nolan's vision will now set the standard for comic book movies, a tremendous feat considering it followed Sam Raimi's Spider-man films and Bryan Singer's X-Men.

While the title leaves something to be desired, "Batman Begins" does everything right. the cast is superb, the story (which was almost non-existent from previous Bat-flicks) is well told, and the atmosphere is perfect. I was excited to see it the first time and equally excited when I saw it again the next day. This was not the case with the last movie I saw in the theatre two days in a row, the final chapter in the biggest cinematic letdown of all time, Star wars Episode III. OK, that wasn't that bad, but I still am not a fan of the prequels.

So good friends, good times, good food. Overall, I give this past weekend four stars.

2005-06-20T15:29:00.000-05:00

Only the king of beasts could look so equal parts terrifying and lethargic.

2005-06-20T15:27:00.000-05:00

At the zoo in Grand Rapids, Andrew has a special bond with the tiger, who he claims is female, despite its testicles. This tiger seemed unimpressed.

2005-06-20T15:26:00.000-05:00

A python. Moments later, some guy shot it to death with silver arrows and then said something about getting his dolphin and returning to Delphi. It was weird.