Meaningful Glances

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

Thanks to an atypical December storm, we are buried in snow. At all (or most) of 40 feet above sea level, we have over a foot of snow on the ground for the first time in my lifetime. OK, so "buried in snow" was a bit of an exaggeration - it is nonetheless a wild start to Winter. Under the top 6 inches or so of snow is a nice hard layer of ice about a half of an inch thick that only adds to the general misery of people trying to move around as usual (via automobile). On foot it can be pretty interesting, too, but it's definitely a lot more manageable. I just got back from walking with a neighbor to the Safeway across the street for a few more supplies before night falls. We lost power for several hours yesterday morning and have had a few brief interruptions so far today. Accordingly, our candles and matches are laid out where we can easily get to them, and we are stocked up on batteries for the one flashlight I can find. The real problem isn't light, of course, it's heat. If our power goes out like it did Sunday morning, it only takes a matter of a few hours for the interior of the house to dramatically cool off to near see-your-breath cold. This is what led us to take up my dad on his offer to ferry us to their house yesterday, where we ended up staying overnight even though the power was back on here at our place by the late afternoon, according to a neighbor.

Even under the imminent threat of a power outage, there's a certain appeal to looking out on this dazzling carpet of white from the windows of our home. We've already been able to help two neighbors since getting back late this morning, so I feel like we are where we need to be. Obviously - and thankfully - we have power for the time being, and we're making the most of it by cranking up the heaters, shutting off rooms to let them heat up, and baking cookies, because let's be honest - nobody wants to be stuck in a good old fashioned snow-in without some cookies (pronounced "coogies") close at hand.

Church gatherings all over our area were cancelled yesterday, including our own, and forecasts are not looking favorable for holding Christmas Eve services, either. First, we were to be thawing yesterday evening and in to today. Instead, 6 more inches of snow dropped on us. Now our beloved meteorologists are telling us that another heavy Pacific storm system might push the freezing level up a few hundred feet on Wednesday. We'll see...

So while I've got the chance and also, in the interest of full disclosure, not much else to do, I thought I'd upate a blog that I'm sure the one or two people who used to read it have given up on long since. To those few and any other who might happen by - Merry Christmas! May the peace of God cover your houselholds as richly and beautifully as the snow now covers ours!

Hey, it's the latest craze! Tagging friends and family to cough up a few quirky tidbits about themselves, and now it's my turn! I suppose it's only fair, given that I've read up on most everyone else who keeps a blog. Problem is, as I mentioned to Brigetta the other night, I don't really draw a line between "normal" blogging and "quirky" blogging. I, for better or worse, don't seem to have that filter when writing. Read my previous entry for proof. So here's my attempt at coming up with 7 more quirky fun facts about myself (in no particular order):

-I hate shower drains. I will make every effort to stay away from them myself and I cringe when I see someone else (like Evelyn) touch ours.

-While down-climbing Mt. Hood in 2005, I was convinced that I was sweating blood. Literally. It was getting a little warmer and I was utterly exhausted (14 hours of climbing will do that to a person). I opened my outer layer to cool off a bit and noticed a rust-colored stain on the left side of my white polypro layer, on my abdomen. I actually said to a few members of my climbing party "I think I might be sweating blood." Not alarmed, mind you, but just matter-of-fact. It seemed like an appropriate thing to say, but they quickly reminded me that sweating blood would be extraordinarily bad, and that I almost certainly wouldn't still be ambulatory if that were the case. Good point. Besides, as it turns out, it was just a leaky, cola-flavored energy gel packet that I had stashed in my jacket's inner pocket. Exhaustion does funny things to a person...

-I once threw an egg from the roof of a friend's house towards a road about 50 yards away...and actually hit a moving car (speed limit on that road is probably 35). Aside from the both of us, junior highers at the time, nearly falling off the roof while laughing, no real harm was done.

-And speaking of eggs - my go-to most embarrassing moment as a child: Approximately 2 weeks after my oldest brother, Scott, had shown me that, if you hold an egg the right way, you can squeeze it as hard as you want and it won't break, we happened to be making ornaments in my 5th grade class that involved...wait for it...eggs. I've never been much of a showoff (Ha!), but I decided to pass on this wonderful discovery to a few of my closest neighbors in class. If you guessed that it went off without a hitch...you're wrong! No - instead, in a show of nigh-on-Herculean strength, I managed to crush the egg and forcefully expel it's contents on to myself (it exploded). Face, hair, clothing...pretty much everything. Fortunately, the whole event left no lasting psychic or emotional scars.

-To show my undying love and devotion to Crystal, my major second-grade crush, I threw her coat in a mud puddle. Ms. Stoner (serious, that's her name) had the audacity to give me a "conduct" (short for misconduct) for my actions.

-I, more than just about any other substance on earth, including second-hand smoke and nuclear waste, despise peanut butter. My brothers used to torture me by forcing me to smell it.

-The secret to my immaculately-coiffed hair? Herbal Essences hairspray. There may not be much to hold, but what's there is on Maximum Hold! With a hint of orange flower.

So there it is. I'm not sure there's anyone left to tag, but I would like to see Scott and Mr. Cory hijack their spouse's blogs to join in the fun.

I have a confession to make.

I like foofy hand soap. Call it a weakness, call it slightly bent - it's alright, I'm secure in my self-image (as far as you know), but I've got a thing with my hands. A texture thing. I generally hate the feel of denim (Brigetta likes to scratch her jeans just to cause me pain), I don't like the way liquid hand soap makes my hands feel after washing, and just overall disapprove of textures that are half way between rough and smooth. I abhor having long fingernails and will frequently (seriously - watch me play guitar at church some time) use a hard edge or corner to apply slight pressure underneath them, because...well, I have no clue. Brigetta used to be convinced that I was autistic somehow - "on the spectrum," as she would say - I just figured that it was perfectly normal to walk on the balls of my feet over linoleum because I didn't like the way it felt on the rest of my feet. That is normal, isn't it?

But back to hand soap. Today is the second "Daddy Day" in a row for Evelyn and I, and we celebrated by getting a chocolate donut at the "donut store" (Albertson's) after dropping mommy off at work, then went to the mall this afternoon for our official "Daddy Date." This morning, as I was resting on the balls of my feet in the kitchen and washing my hands, I noticed that our last container of foofy hand soap (it foams!) was getting low. The multitask alarm went off in my head, and so, as part of our Daddy Date, we hit up Bath & Body Works for some new, exotic (foofy) scents. The picture above is not, as it may seem, Evelyn shoving the soap nozzle up her nose. Close, but she had enough self-restraint to avoid actual insertion. A friendly associate at the store made her way over to explain that the sale on soaps was a "mix 'n' match" sale (it always is), and proceeded to point out several options that we hadn't yet put to the sniff test. "Yeah, listen - this ain't exactly my first Bath & Body Works rodeo," I wanted to say. I smiled politely instead: "Thanks." Besides, none of the other soaps foamed. We settled on Enchanted Orchid, Japanese Cherry Blossom, and - get this - Midnight Pomegranate. "Oh, man, I can't sleep, it's midnight, I've got work in the morning...what am I gonna do? Hey, that pomegranate looks good..." You can understand my skepticism as I unfastened the top to get a sniff...but, sure as Al Gore invented the internet, it smelled exactly like midnight!

Midnight. What a great marketing word. Milky Way Midnight, Midnight Madness, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. I could have added it to the first line of this blog and totally changed the tone. Go ahead, read it out loud to yourself and see if you don't blush. At any rate, it makes for a great soap scent because, let's face it, Pomegranate is just not enough.

What do you do for a soap-sniffing encore? Go see the goldfish, the Mickey store, and find a way to make mac 'n' cheese sound new and exciting, of course! "We're going to go pick up super yummy mac 'n' cheese from a mac 'n' cheese store, Evelyn!" Again the eyes widen - score one for daddy. "OK! We go pick up mac 'n' CHEEEESE!" I am wholly convinced that I could say anything in this tone of voice and garner the same reaction. "Hey Evelyn, we're going to go run over a whole kit of baby rabbits in our van! How's that sound?" You get the picture.