Meaningful Glances

Bit of an oddity here, but I thought it would be neat to post what I was thinking on 9-09-09. I occasionally do this - write down short little thoughts or reflections, really more for myself than anyone else, but this time I'll share. This is unedited, too, so it doesn't have a lot of, shall we say, narrative strength.

Things hidden are discovered as a matter of course. Hide away and store up integrity, honesty, and compassion so that, when you are exposed, there is nothing to be ashamed of. How many friendships and marriages could have been saved but for a few careless words kept secret? How many people have traded temporary discomfort for enduring grief by refusing to come clean?

A parent's wisdom: Since approval and love are two separate things, it is perfectly reasonable to set conditions on one and not the other.

Life is good on Jackson street. Of course, life was good before, but now it is good with the added bonus of being relatively mold-free. Since my last update here, there has been the metaphorical whirlwind of activity. As it turns out, we decided to move in the middle of the worst heat wave on record for the Portland area. We literally sweated our way through the first few nights in our new home, taking cool showers at night not only to wash away the grime and dust from a hundred boxes, but simply to be able to sleep. In seeking to provide at least some relief from the heat, I thought to install our small air-conditioner in the room that was to be our office, only to discover that almost all of the outlets in our new home are not grounded (two prongs instead of three). This presents a problem that a simple adapter won't solve for an air-conditioner. Namely, the risk of death by electrocution should there be a ground fault in the outlet while said appliance is running. Some googling, head-scratching, and a trip to Home Depot later, I installed a new GFCI outlet in the office. It's not as good as having the outlet actually grounded, but it will prevent someone from lighting up like a Christmas tree should something go wrong.

The day after I triumphantly flipped the switch on my grand heat-relief master plan, it cooled off considerably and it really hasn't been hot since. Somewhere, Murphy is laughing...

But we had other problems, too. The second morning we were here, I woke up and padded in to the office to check a few things online before getting ready for Sunday services...to find the computer off and stubbornly refusing to be turned back on. Later that day, I began work on what has been a computer problem of biblical proportions, right down to the weeping and gnashing of teeth. I'll spare you all the gory details and techno-jargon, and just say that, for now, it is fixed. One of our hard drives is still not cooperating and there are some files I'd like to get from it, but all of the really important stuff like our pictures and videos are safely backed up. In fact, it's those two hard drives that are the only parts remaining from the original computer. Through the generosity of a friend - a friend whose cup runneth over with spare computer parts, mind you - and a couple of well-placed buys of my own, everything else has been replaced. And that's all I really want to say about it. Computer problems suck - just thinking about them can get a guy grumpy! :)

And all the while, we've been chipping away at the clutter, finding homes for the various odds and ends that the boxes belch out at us, looking for one important thing or another and not being able to find it, and feeling just a touch like fish out of water. Though with a month gone by now and all the bedrooms more or less in order, that feeling has ebbed considerably. I'm especially fond (if biased) of how the office turned out. We were originally going to have a TV in here, but it didn't work out (literally, the TV didn't work), and that has turned out to be the best thing that could've happened to this room. Well, that and my previously undiscovered talent for interior decorating. HA! That was a joke - I surprised myself, and I think a few others as well, when it failed to look like a train wreck. "Hey - it actually looks nice in here," they've said, in the same tone that Jim Carrey's character in Dumb and Dumber uses after receiving some help from an elderly woman: "Ya know it's true? Old people, while slow and dangerous behind the wheel, CAN still serve a purpose!" You're welcome to come by and visit if you're in the area, but in case you can't make it and are just dying to see what I mean, I took the liberty (and a few steps to my right) of snapping a quick photo.

What you won't see in the photo is the 200-ft. ethernet cable running from the router next to the computer, around the room, in to the closet, up through the attic, across the house, and in to the new Man Cave, or Man Cave 3.0, if you will. There it connects to the Xbox which sits, as ever, on top of the enormous TV. This time, though, the beast doesn't look all that out of place. The room, a converted and carpeted garage, is much more suited for it, and by "suited" I mean "we no longer have to sit five feet away from a five foot screen." Our landlord has graciously allowed us to use not only the room, but the couch and coffee table therein, as well. I love it. It's pretty close to exactly what I wanted it to be, which is a place that is not just for me, but for others to enjoy and be comfortable in, too. The young men from the youth group that came and helped us get all the furniture and heavy stuff moved had trouble suppressing grins when they caught sight of the TV, so I let them know that they'd have to come over and try it out when I got things all hooked up again. So before they could scamper off to college again, I had them and a couple other youth guys over for a couple of game nights. At 3am the second night/morning when the last of them walked out the side door, I had a couple of thoughts. 1) I can no longer keep up with a teenager on Mt. Dew and video games, and 2) It was more fun to watch those guys having fun than it usually is for me to just sit out there by myself. Subsequently, it's been fun to host movie nights with the Johnsons (if you don't know, Steve is the associate pastor for our church family. He and his wife lead the youth group as well) and basically anyone else that wants to show up. If you read my wife's blog, you'll know how much fun we've been having with our next-door neighbors in general. In the short time we've been here, we've managed not just the several movie nights together, but quite a few shared dinners/lunches, blackberry picking in their back yard which led (naturally) to the girls baking pies together, a trip to the zoo, complete with a picnic on the amphitheater lawn during a bird show, and a cook/campout in the Johnson's front yard, which was Evelyn's first successful all-nighter in a tent. Surprisingly (or not), it was the grown up girls that were having a hard time getting to sleep. Since it was a Saturday night, Steve and I opted for our own beds after we'd had our barbecue chicken - cooked in Jacquie's dutch oven on the front porch - and smores over the fire pit. We chatted for a while as the fire died down to dull, glowing embers, but the giggles were still bubbling out of the tent when I retired to our side of the fence. Evelyn, for her part, was sound asleep in between two women who'd apparently rediscovered their long lost love of slumber parties. You can see a picture from the big event over on Brigetta's blog. Being able to share life like this with our neighbors has, I think more than anything else, helped quickly turn this house in to a home. Of course, just being comfortable inviting someone in to our home is a change for us. We're delighted to not worry about whether or not our house is making us, or anyone that visits us, sick!

And on that note, I'm nearly current. It's football season again already, so Brigetta and I, being rabid Duck fans, are doing our part to encourage Evelyn along the path to rabid fanhood. I may or may not have (hint: the former), on an impulse, purchased Evelyn a hooded Oregon sweatshirt that matches my own in anticipation of the season opener tomorrow (September 3rd). If I did, it's definitely the cutest five year old clothing you've ever seen on a three year old. I'll try to get a picture up soon. In lieu of that, here's a pic or two from our first month on Jackson street:

Today is the penultimate day of our tenancy in the swamp house. My wife, a post-grad educated woman of no mean intelligence or wit, has these funny slips where she'll forget a word but try to get something out anyway. A few days ago, in anticipation of today, she said something like this: "Hey, we're comin' up on that - what do you call it.....pentecostal?

Yes, love - hallelujah, the Spirit is moving and so are we! Despite the best of our intentions, the house still looks a little too cluttered for a penultimate (or a pentecostal!) day. Anyone who's moved can sympathize with the realization that sets in at about this time: all of this has to be moved...tomorrow! There is still junk to be sorted through, part of the kitchen to pack, things to be cleaned, and the regular routine to keep up at the same time. So I repeat to myself what's become a bit of a mantra around here - "Don't worry, it'll all get done...because it has to get done." Of course, the previous three days of punishing heat haven't helped the process much. According to the nearest weather tracking station to us, the mercury rose to just over 109 degrees here yesterday. 109! In a low-lying river valley! Officially, or so I read, Portland topped out at 106 yesterday, one degree shy of the all-time record high. Portland, however, is officially tracked at the airport, which sits right on the Columbia river and is prone to be a little more breezy than here. I'm tellin' my grandkids it was 109.

Here's the good news, though - it's supposed to cool off to a refreshing 99 degrees today! Despite the cheekiness I'm sure you detect, that actually does sound refreshing right now. The back room where Evelyn and I are once again holed up for now is holding steady at around 72, but the air-conditioner has been running around the clock for three days straight. I'm excited (not really) to see the electricity bill next month!

So this is a kind of sign-off from the East Avenue house and from the Man Cave 2.0. It's been a good man cave, despite two floods and a skunk attack. There has been no shortage of look-back-and-laugh-about-it moments in the four years we've lived here, starting from the first or second night we stayed here when we noticed a large slug on the ceiling directly above our bed, and straight on through to the aforementioned skunk attack and everything in between. I'm sure the laughs will be easy and carefree down the road, but right now the laughs are a little more...vengeful. We made a list last night of things the landlords may want to address before trying to rent this little gem out again. This is something I offered to actually do for them, since they haven't hardly set foot on the property in this month after we gave notice. Some of the things we wrote on our list last night won't make the final cut, but we had a good laugh about them, anyway. Brigetta wanted to do the writing because she thought it would be therapeutic, so I dictated all the things I could think of that were legitimate issues. Brigetta filled in a few of her own that brought me to tears with laughter when I read them later. Foremost among them, somewhere between "ANTS everywhere" and "Idiot neighbor dog barks incessantly" was this item about a squatter that lives in a trailer on the north end of the property: "Richard dumps large milk jugs of brown urine on your property." Pardon me while I wipe away another tear or two. You see, it's funny because it's true. The guy doesn't have any indoor plumbing and I can hardly blame him for not wanting to walk to Safeway every time nature calls, but there really isn't anything quite like looking out your window and seeing a rather large man pouring out a gallon milk container full of his own waste about 30 feet from your fence. Gross? Yeah. Priceless? I think so. A great memory to leave you with before we get out of dodge? Definitely. So long from the swamp, folks!

The title...well, I'm sorry but it has really nothing to do with what I'm going to post - it just sounded like a good title. I am, however, resting my left foot on a freshly laundered bathmat that has yet to be placed back in it's native bathroom. Regrettably, it is neither bold or new. It is blue and quite worn. It...could be replaced when we move...by something both bold AND new, which provides a terrific segue to my actual post. Whew! I knew I could do it.

Apologies. There's a heat wave on and our poor little North Korean air-conditioner is struggling to keep up with the 3rd (or is it 4th now?) consecutive day of 90+ degree temperatures. My native Oregonian brain is melting. In a week that has started out busy with the pesky details of moving - like packing, etc. - oppressive heat and humidity, the latter thanks mostly to our yard's ever-present and now expanding mudbog, are two very unwelcome distractions. Yesterday, Brigetta had her Mom over for a packing party that stripped most of the little homey touches from the walls and shelves, replacing them with a neat stack of boxes in one corner of the living room. More empty boxes litter the rest of the space, with just enough room to get where you're going in the house. Towards the late afternoon, Gramma Claire whisked Evelyn away for an overnighter from which she has just now (lunch time) returned. This morning, with the extra peace and quiet, I made the phone calls that had to be made - electricity, garbage, water and sewer, etc. all needed to be transferred or started at the new address. The truck is reserved at U-Haul. The water is on to boil, both literally and figuratively, as Evelyn has requested mac 'n' cheese for lunch, the heat is on outside, and we're feeling the pressure (and the excitement) of the move getting closer. That's all for now - stay cool, everybody!

Just a small entry today. On Tuesday, Evelyn suffered a near tragic consequence for not listening to her Daddy - no trip to the mall. Cruel, I know - but don't go calling child services just yet. We're headed to that most treasured of Daddy Day destinations not long after this gets posted. I just had to declare publicly how much I love being this little girl's dad.

One of her favorite ways to play lately has been to pretend to go and get all kinds of different food and bring them back to me. "You stay right here," she'll say, "I close the door so Scout can't get in here." There'll be a few fading footsteps, about 2 seconds pause, then rapidly approaching footsteps as she returns with her imaginary food. We must have had gallons of pretend lemonade together over the life of this game, not to mention quite a bit of tea, and let's not neglect choc-o-late (spoken reverently around here) - we've had lots of that, too. But Evelyn came up with a new one the other night. "I'm gonna go get s'more of my favorites," she announced, disappearing behind a door jamb. A second later, her head popped back in to view. "What are you going to get?" I asked. A very serious, somewhat conspiratorial look settled on her face as she thoughtfully replied, "Ariel. Jerky. Butterfly treats." I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Wow, Evelyn, that sounds...exotic." "Yeah, dad - they have candy in 'em...and grape juice...and [unintelligible]...and grape juice...and they're just soooo delicious." And off she went to fetch Ariel jerky butterfly treats for the both of us. I have to say, they were every bit as delicious as she made them out to be. For our next course, Evelyn announced - and here I should explain that I was laying on the bed, where I had been reading before this little game started, so Evelyn was standing at eye level with me - that we would be having CHOC-O-LATE next. Only she leaned in as she drew the word out, to approximately half an inch from my right eyeball. Close enough to count taste buds had I not closed my eyes reflexively. Even imaginary chocolate is something to get excited about as far as she's concerned.

There are, of course, events in the course of being dad to a 3-year old that cause me to go from zero to destructive rage in less than a second (as opposed to constructive rage...I guess), but even the moments that frustrate are part of a whole experience that I wouldn't give up for anything. Before we head out the door on our date, let me tell what a few of my favorite things are - and I promise they don't involve whiskers on kittens or brown paper packages (though those are kind of neat).

I love that Evelyn rushes up to the stage on Sunday during the greeting time at church, carefully climbs the first two steps, then runs at me with her arms out and a big shout of "Daddy!"

I love hearing her say "You came back!" when I've just been away for a few minutes at the store.

I love her eagerness to have books read to her, especially when she hands me a book, climbs up next to me, then leans on me while I read it.

I love helping her to get over a disappointment, even when that disappointment is discipline related.

I love holding her hand while she gallops through the mall, or the park, or any other place we go.

I love getting buckled in to the car and reaching back before we leave the driveway for a "slap 'n' tap" (low five followed by a fist bump).

I love to hear her prayers at bedtime (but I do NOT love butterfly kisses therafter, thank you very much, Bob Carlisle).

I love to hear her tell me how silly I am.

I love whispering to her what fun the next day holds when it's time to sleep.

I love my job.

A brief update on our first attempt at taking Evelyn to see the dentist:

For the better part of a year we have been preparing Evelyn to make this visit. We read her a book about going to the dentist on a regular basis, we always talk about it as a fun place - a place where they give you a new toothbrush, and we set her up to be excited to go in every other way that we can. Last night, as we talked excitedly about getting to go to the dentist today, she responded with her usual smiley, sing-song "But not today!" It's a bit of a running joke, but what it really means is this: Evelyn is TERRIFIED of going to the dentist. I'm baffled at how the idea made it's way in to her little head, but she clearly knew that she feared the dentist as much as she fears any other doctor. I tried again to excite her this morning and got the same result as last night - "But not today!"

"Yeah," I said. "Today."

Instant devastation. It took me fully half an hour to get her calmed down to the point that she was only sobbing reflexively. You know - those great, shuddering inhales? At any rate, skipping over the intervening time, I ended up making up a Boris-went-to-the-dentist story on the way to the actual visit that briefly gave me hope that she would make it through. She laughed and asked to hear it again and again, so I asked her if she'd like to have a visit just like Boris' visit. She enthusiastically agreed, and so we marched triumphantly in to the office and checked in. Evelyn busied herself playing with some of the toys laying around while I did paperwork and all was on the right track. Until they called her name and I uttered the fateful words "OK, let's go."

Instant devastation. Also instant attention of the entire office. We tried in vain to just sit in the room where we'd be, but she was just too loud to keep around all the other people that were suffering in relative silence. Finally, realizing that she'd get her wish of just going home granted, she made a 180-degree turnaround, thanking me for taking her to the dentist and gabbing the poor receptionist's ear off while she tried to figure out how to refund our copayment. She even agreed to come back another time to "have her teeth counted," but the real prize was that Daddy had promised to take her to play at McDonald's after the dentist visit was over. I gave her what encouragement I could for being brave and trying, then headed off for the golden arches with a talkative, but clearly worn out 3-year old. We made it home just before 2pm and snuggled in for a Curious George story and a nap. We're up now, but I feel like I could've slept for two more hours...

So round one to Evelyn. There aren't any issues that really need addressing in her little mouth, but we'll keep working on it so that she doesn't need to be as familiar with her dentist as, say, her Daddy. :)

At the corner of Breaker and Minnehaha, Brigetta put voice to the prevailing sentiment in our van: "Why do we always have to leave on the nicest day?" I harrumphed in commiseration as we turned south on to Highway 101 today, bound for home via Tillamook and it's famous cheese factory. Barely a cloud could be seen for all the blue sky and sunshine. I peered out the passenger side window for those few miles to Tillamook, taking in the bay vista - it's gentle undulations sparkling under the noonday sun and glinting off the occasional hull of a passing boat. With the temperature pushing 60 degrees and the wind uncharacteristically mellow, forget Spring - it felt like a Summer day compared to what we're used to in mid-February.

On about a day's notice, we left town in twilight this past Tuesday evening after I'd completed a scheduled test for the Census Bureau application process (temporary address-canvasing jobs this Spring). We prefer to make longer road trips in daylight, but the tradeoff of being able to spend two whole days at our favorite beach house was well worth it. Even though Brigetta did the driving on the way there, my lower back was screaming at me after taking a wrong step in the dark on Monday night and foolishly spending about 20 minutes hunched over our car on Tuesday morning to change an air filter. Since I had recovered from some sort of upper back strain a couple of months or so ago, I still had plenty of these little yellow unpronounceable pills lying around - muscle relaxers. There's a good reason that I had a lot of them on hand: I hated using them. They work, but Peter, Paul, and Mary do they pack a knockout punch! I've slept for 12 hours (twelve!) without so much as stirring after taking one of these before. I was willing to do it again, though, if it meant I could function for our little vacation. I don't really remember what time I went to bed that first night, but it was some time around 11pm. Brigetta coaxed me awake some time between 9 and 10am on Wednesday. And I was still tired for most of the day. Good news is, the pain had fallen to a manageable level and I was able to get out on the beach with my girls and throw a terrifically slimy and sandy tennis ball around for Scout.

I decided to forego the hibernation pill our second night, so I was feeling just about normal on Thursday morning. We decided to make the drive out to Cape Meares on the far side of Tillamook Bay and spend some time "hiking." The trail - paved - is all of 1/5th of a mile from the parking lot to the lighthouse that used to stand sentinel for ships passing by this picturesque but somewhat severe section of the Oregon coastline. We've been out here several times, so it was quite the surprise to step out of the car and NOT be immediately blasted by the wind. It was almost completely calm for our entire visit and the sea far below echoed that calmness with only the most gentle swells visible outside of the breakers and turbulent foam that surround several rock formations. We took our time, stopping at each little viewpoint along the cliff side, me channeling my inner Papa Russy and going nature photo crazy, and Brigetta helping Evelyn see over the fences to the various wonders below. Only one or two other couples seem to have been lucky enough to share the extraordinary calm and beauty of that place with us for that afternoon. We departed after making the not-quite-half-mile loop and made our way back up to Rockaway for lunch and a nap at Breaker Bungalow, followed by an early evening trip to the beach for all our favorite activities: running, chasing, collecting treasures, building sand castles, destroying sand castles, and so on. Then, after sharing the evening meal together and getting Evelyn to bed, Brigetta and I planted our exhausted backsides in comfy chairs and read for a bit before the muted roar of the surf drew me to move in to the bedroom and just listen. It's never taken me long to fall asleep when that most soothing of sounds is within earshot. I wrote a poem about it once that now hangs in my dad's office - a memory of falling asleep in the canopied bed of my Grandpa's truck during a summer camp out at Wi-ne-ma camp. No alarm clock or other device with so-called "nature sounds" has ever gotten it quite right. Nothing else can mimic the roar or the occasional clap of liquid thunder when a particularly large breaker crests higher than the others. Up close it's powerful, even intimidating, but just a few steps away it becomes calming and peaceful. Other than the company I bring with me, it's what I love best about the visiting the coast, and it's also hijacking this blog entry, so let me catch you up on the rest of our trip...

Lest we wonder where our little Evelyn learned how to be manipulative, we need look no farther than our deliberation on how to break the news to her that we were going home today. In nothing less than a militarily precise strategic decision, we started telling her while there were still fun things to do. Before we made our last visit to the beach, for one, AND - the euphemious ace up our collective sleeve - before going to the Tillamook Cheese Factory for lunch and - leave nothing to chance - an ice cream cone! Success! Nary a tear was shed as we cleaned up after ourselves and left Breaker Bungalow to it's next guests and hit the road. Evelyn managed to smite a few more strangers on the way - line workers on the factory floor this time - with a simple wave and smile. A few other patrons couldn't help but take notice, either, as she set about consuming her promised ice cream cone with, as Dr. Seuss was fond of writing, "great vim and great vigor." Also a great mess. But we had fun, without a doubt. From what we hear, it may be our last opportunity for quite some time to visit Breaker Bungalow, so we'll treasure the times we had and look forward to some other future adventure.

You should know that, as I type this first sentence, it's 1:00 pm. I finished my breakfast not long ago, and I only woke up as early as I did because a friend called during their lunch break. Let me explain.

Some of you might also read my wife's blog, and if you have seen her entry from last night, you will know that I dismantled Evelyn's crib yesterday. Correction: I finished dismantling Evelyn's crib yesterday. She started it the night before by snapping one of the metal brackets that holds the base to the frame as she tried to jump her way to sleep yet again. When Brigetta got home from work last night, I had the time to look a little closer at the damage and decide that it wasn't worth fixing. We already had the spin in place - Evelyn got to go to the park while daddy tried to fix her bed, but she knew that if he couldn't, he would make it in to a "big girl bed." Translation: I took apart the crib and put her mattress on the floor. I did everything I could to make it a cozy spot - that includes, in case you were worried, vacuuming thoroughly - and she was thrilled when she came home to see her "new" bed surrounded by some of her favorite stuffed animals with Granny's quilt and her puppy pillow on top. Come bed time, as Brigetta wrote in her blog, she ran right to her bed to crawl in and here's where the adventure begins. At about half past eight, after we'd sung our good night song and said a prayer, Evelyn broke from tradition (and why not, given her recent proclivity to break things?) and asked if Daddy would help her go to sleep. If you've kept up on how sleep works around here, you'd immediately grasp the significance here. If you haven't kept up, I'll spell it out: she NEVER asks this if she knows Brigetta is around, let alone in the same room. So, in almost stunned disbelief, Brigetta gave Evelyn a kiss and said good night, and Evelyn settled in to asking me "what animals do." We chatted briefly about the different things that animals do - whether or not little girls and boys do these things, too, etc. - until I mentioned, quite deliberately, that animals go to sleep. To my surprise, she actually stopped talking about it right away and was mostly quiet the rest of the way.

I should have known it was too good to be true.

TWO HOURS later, after attempting (unsuccessfully) to leave several times, mostly after I was sure she was asleep, she finally settled in to a regular snore. I was caught a little off-guard by the clinginess that preceded it, though. I told myself (still am telling myself, really) that it was a different bed at a different level, there was no sense of being enclosed, and so on - but she blame near panicked every time she thought I was leaving. So I stayed. And stayed, and stayed, and stayed. Somewhere in the middle of all of it, I got in a 20-minute power nap - you now, one of those short, refreshing naps that leave you ready to go for the rest of the day? Yeah, one of those, only with no rest-of-the-day left. Don't get me wrong - I was happy (and a little flattered, sure) to be asked to stay with her while she went to sleep, but it was simultaneously and incredibly frustrating to lay awake for the better part of two hours while she tossed, turned, and made sure my face was still right next to her bed. So at a little past 10:30pm, I marshalled all of my stealth skills and left her room as quietly as possible, fearful that any misstep would cause another panic.

Now I'm a night-owl as it is, but with the extra two hours of laying around and a power nap under my belt, I really didn't have a chance of getting to sleep. I chatted and watched TV with Brigetta for a little bit before she ran off to bed and then I was left to my own devices. Nothing too out of the ordinary about that - I'm up later than she is most nights, either reading, watching TV, or playing games online with a few fellow night-owl friends. The latter is what I did last night, meeting up with 4 or 5 friends to run around a virtual WWII, shoot guns, and throw grenades. Ya know - guy stuff. Until 3 in the morning! That's late, even for me...and I still wasn't tired! I had to draw the line somewhere, though, so I bowed out of the carnage and made myself go crawl in to bed. Not five minutes after doing that, the following phrase - again a first-ever - came floating over from the monitor in Evelyn's room: "I want my daddy." Somewhere between "You've got to be kidding me," and "Well, I'm already awake," I found myself padding over to her room, sweatshirt in hand, to curl up next to my little girl and feel her little hand reach out to make sure it was my face there before thinking "This isn't so bad," and immediately falling asleep.

I remember having to move her back on to her bed once after she'd managed to get her head on to the middle of my pillow, and then Brigetta was gently shaking me awake at 7:30-ish (?), at which point I stumbled back to my own bed, bouncing off door jams along the way, to slumber for a few hours more. So when the call from a friend came at ten minutes to noon, I snapped awake with that "I'm late for work" surge of adrenaline, which isn't entirely inappropriate since this is my day to get the bulk of my work from home done. And here I am blogging about it instead of doing it...

It was a story worth telling, though (I think), but not one I'm terrifically eager to repeat. I'll tell you how the "big girl bed" experiment continues when there's more to tell.

Evelyn is enjoying twin treats right now for telling mommy and daddy twice this morning that she had to go potty before she actually went! Little Bear and a lollipop for the little one (that's alliterative, kids!), and an update for the blog.

Mommy's at work today, so the three of us (Scout included) are cozied (pretty sure that word doesn't exist) up in the family room, which smells markedly better than the last time I updated the blog here. There was a little leftover mustiness after things got put back together, but thanks to the strategic use of "man candles" and a little ventilation, we're good to go.

Other stuff going on: Brigetta's back to a four day work week, so I've pressed most of my musical planning duties for the church in to a rather packed Wednesday and taken over watching Evelyn on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So far, so good. For some reason, when Brigetta isn't here, Evelyn goes down for naps much easier. It's almost amusing, actually (and alliteratively). If we're both around during nap time, Evelyn just won't go down (easily, anyway) without her momma. I've tried several times, just to give Brigetta a break, but our little princess won't have it. I take that back - she'll have it, because daddy can be even more stubborn than a two year-old, but she has it kicking and screaming, with a side of rage. So we don't pick that fight too often. The point is, nap time on Daddy Days = less fight, more sleep, win for daddy.

And speaking of fights - I'm still struggling to get the blood sugar issues under control. I had some initial success with moving my basal insulin dose to the evening, but overall I'm still testing way too high. I'm due for a follow-up with the endocrinologist within the next week or so, but I've seen enough tests and feel comfortable enough with the trend (which is to say not comfortable at all) to make a small dose adjustment on my own as of last night. This way I'll have several days worth of data from that change to show to the endo when I go. The infection in my toe seems to have subsided, though there is still some redness in the area (just much lighter and less inflamed). I can't wait to run out of the huge green pills...

And speaking of running out - Evelyn has run out of show and lollipop, so it's time to unplug and make with the playing. Agh, and quickly - a Billy Mays commercial is on! *shudder*

I've got a few minutes while Evelyn is still in the bath over here at Gramma's house (Brigetta's mom) to update those of you who have been wondering how things would go for me at the endocrinologist today. Thanks for the comments, phone calls, and prayers, too! I hadn't meant to sound so grim and bleak, but I was frustrated and your support helped.

First things first. Brigetta and Evelyn are at Gramma's right now because I kicked them out last night and set myself to the task of pulling back carpet and tearing out soaked carpet padding in our family room. About a week ago, our area had over 2 inches of rain fall in less than a full day, which overwhelmed the crude drainage system we have on the north side of our house. The same room flooded last year because some earth had been displaced nearby that funneled the rains right up next to concrete slab that this particular room sits on. This year, having arranged for a drainage pond to collect the water away from the house, we found out the hard way that it wasn't quite deep enough. So when I went to soak up what I thought was an Evelyn-caused spill on the carpet the other night, I ended up soaking through two full-size towels on a spot no larger than a volleyball. Our landlord and one of his helpers came and tried to shop-vac out the water through that spot, but the pad underneath was thoroughly soaked, so I offered to pull it out and our landlord offered to replace it. Time is really of the essence in a situation like this, so I sent the girls over here and got to work getting the musty smelling, soaked pad out of the house. The last of the wet areas is drying tonight, and I'm hoping to have things put back together by tomorrow afternoon, but I hadn't been able to see my girls all day between taking care of the flood, going to the dentist, and my endocrinology visit.

The dentist appointment, by way of a brief explanation, was to fix a tooth that broke during the big Arctic Blast. I'd already had a root canal done on it, so there was no exposed nerve or anything excruciatingly painful like that - just some mild discomfort. I got in and out today with some temporary stuff filling in the nooks and crannies and a date to come back and get a new foundation built up in preparation for a crown.

The endocrinologist visit was helpful. I had suspected that I needed to raise my basal (long-lasting) dose by at least one unit, and that is, in fact, exactly what the doctor suggested. Further than that, though, he suggested that I begin to take this once-a-day dose in the evening instead of in the morning. To transition without overlapping, I'll split the daily dose tomorrow between morning and evening, moving the entire dose to the evening the following day. It makes sense and I won't bore you with the details as to why that is. What's more exciting to say is that the endocrinologist also thought that one of my medications was redundant and told me to stop taking it! I've thought this medication, which I take twice daily now, was unnecessary since I started taking insulin, but the first endocrinologist I saw wanted me to keep taking it anyway. Of course, the doctor today really wanted me to add in a baby aspirin every day so it's only a net-loss of one pill a day. Still, one less prescription to worry about is a good thing. Lastly, and let me offer a warning to the squeamish before I go on, I had him look at an ingrown toenail on one of my feet. Actually, having your feet checked is a part of any doctor visit as a diabetic, but this one was more exciting than most since I'm in the middle of one of the 2 or 3 ingrown toenails I get every year. I keep a close eye on them when they happen and they usually run their course in a matter of a few days. This one, however, looks to have a mild infection that was spreading to another part of the toe, which I realize sounds more alarming than it really is at this point. I'll be on antibiotics for a week-and-a-half, but the infection will most likely clear up within a day or two.

So that's my quick and dirty update. I'm off to help Evelyn get to bed before heading back home to get ready for tomorrow's work on the family room.

For Now,

Andrew