If you've read my earlier post about not harming the boy child, this will make a bit more sense.
Math is the bane of my existence. I can add, subtract, multiply, divide, and even handle simple fractions. However, when you start giving me word problems, I FREAK! I also do not understand algebra, geometry, trigonometry, or calculus. Calculus is that nasty stuff that builds up on your teeth no matter how obsessive/compulsive you are about dental hygiene. What does that have to do with math? Does my dentist count up the little calculus pieces for some research project? I have no earthly idea what Trigonometry is.
Here's an example of a problem The Boy Child needed help with: Bob bought 41 apples and oranges. He bought 14 more apples than oranges. How many apples and oranges did he buy?
Before we try to solve this, I have some questions:
1. Why does Bob need 41 apples and oranges? Is there an impending fruit shortage?
2. Why does Bob favor the apple over the orange? Is Bob secretly prejudiced against the orange but bought them because he wanted to look like he's not an anti-orangite?
3. If Bob is making fruit salad, that's a hell of a salad and it's going to be a boring fruit salad!
4. Why was some dude who writes math problems stalking Bob in the fruit aisle? Somebody needs to get a life!
5. When Bob checked out at the grocery store, did the checker question him about his excessive fruit purchase?
6. Is Bob attempting to make some form of new meth that doesn't require pseudoephedrine?
7. Will state and federal lawmakers begin discussing placing fruit behind locked doors and limit the number of apples and oranges you can buy?
8. Why is it anyone else's business what kind and how many apples and oranges Bob bought?
Bob needs to watch his back! People are stalking him and reporting his fruit purchases. Personally, I think Bob needs to make a public statement explaining his behavior!
Now, on to solving the problem. I took one look at that problem, rebuked it, and called The Spouse in!
Here's what I don't get...when will I or my children ever give a fat rat's tail about how many more apples than oranges some man buys? Bob bought them. He knows how many he has of each. Just ask him and move on. When will I or my children ever be in a situation where figuring out something like this will matter? I defy you to give me a real life instance where this is applicable.
I think we need to focus on adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing! Leave Bob and his apples and oranges alone! (After he issues that public explanation!)
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Update on Baby Kate
Kate continues to be in the CICU of Children's Hospital. The surgery appears to have been successful but she is having a LOT of pain and some fluid build up in her lungs. Please continue to pray for her and her family! I've included a link to her CaringBridge site if you want to read her whole story or just start following along. http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/katelipke
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
I Will Not Harm the Boy Child
Everyone please repeat after me: I WILL NOT HARM THE BOY CHILD! I WILL NOT HARM THE BOY CHILD! I WILL NOT HARM THE BOY CHILD!
Today (Tuesday) has not been the best day for The Boy Child. I received a call from his school letting me know that he'd neglected to do his math homework and that he would need to stay today or tomorrow after school to complete it. The call was not that big of a surprise, really. He's notorious for "forgetting" bits and pieces of his homework.
Not being a fool, he claims that he "has short-term memory loss".
I told the office that I would prefer that he stay today so he could get the work done and, hopefully, learn his lesson.
When I picked him up, he walked out of school with his head hanging low and a quiver on his lip. He was certain that The Spouse and I would be furious with him.
Instead, I greeted him with a smile and told him to get in the car. As I drove away, he asked if I was mad at him. I told him that his mother and I were not mad and that we understood that things happen once in a while. I also explained that we did not want this to become a habit and that we felt he would probably learn his lesson from this. (Just so you understand, I was trying to play mind games with the little bugger. It's best if you keep them confused and guessing. If you fall into a predictable pattern, they will learn it and use it against you in their darkest hours!)
Before I pulled away from the curb I specifically asked him if he had any homework. He assured me he only had a Literature worksheet. Foolishly, I pulled away from the building. (I should have continued to use some warped form of psychology but I dropped my b.s. radar in a moment of weakness.)
Fastforward to 7:00p.m....The Boy Child, forced to open his backpack because I took the iPad away from him and told him he HAD to work on his Literature, announces in a quaking and wavering squeaky little voice, "Oh no! I had Math homework and didn't bring home my math book!"
It's a good thing I watched my wife go through labor. I learned the breathing technique and, in a pinch, it helps. I practiced the breathing method that one should do as they are trying to pass a 10lb living child through a straw. I was seething. I'm not going to say for sure, but I'm pretty sure a volcano erupted inside my head. I promise I didn't cuss...out loud...but I assure you I let my feelings be known.
At one point, I think I stripped him of every privilege except breathing. If I could have kept him alive and done that, I would have! (If I can figure that out, I'll do a detailed post later.)
Once the dust settled, we called a friend and I had the sweet child read the word problems to me on the phone and I typed them out. The sweet child's mother, a dear friend who shall be rewarded richly with multiple Diet Dr. Peppers, even took pictures of the last few problems and texted them to me because they were longer and a bit more complicated.
Through many tears, gnashing of teeth, wailing, crying, screaming, and head-banging moments, we worked and worked. I even phoned a couple who are both Math Teachers (one is a former Math teacher and is now a principal) and asked for assistance on solving two problems. They, too, shall be rewarded, only they will receive some form of liquor because I know they will like that much better than Diet Dr. Peppers.
Right before bedtime, The Boy Child announces that he has completed his math homework. We all breathed a sigh of relief and scurried him and his sister off to bed. Of course, we kissed them both, prayed with them (and, I'll admit I prayed OVER him with a hand on his forehead, and asked for the Holy Spirit to come down and remove this "short-term memory loss" issue from the child. I've always been intrigued by the "laying on of hands". If it works, I'll let you know and I'm going to hire myself out to parents in my area. I could make a killing!)
Shortly after the kids were in bed I received a text message. It seems that the sweet child who helped us out with the Math problems had forgotten his Literature homework. I'm contacting his Diet Dr. Pepper drinking Momma if that laying on of hands thing works! She'll be my first "client".
I think there's a moral to this story somewhere in here. Maybe it's something like: "Turn adversity into opportunity." or "When in need, phone a friend." or "Laying on of hands and praying over the child will prevent you from harming him/her and will keep you out of trouble with Child Services." I think it's that last one...
Today (Tuesday) has not been the best day for The Boy Child. I received a call from his school letting me know that he'd neglected to do his math homework and that he would need to stay today or tomorrow after school to complete it. The call was not that big of a surprise, really. He's notorious for "forgetting" bits and pieces of his homework.
Not being a fool, he claims that he "has short-term memory loss".
I told the office that I would prefer that he stay today so he could get the work done and, hopefully, learn his lesson.
When I picked him up, he walked out of school with his head hanging low and a quiver on his lip. He was certain that The Spouse and I would be furious with him.
Instead, I greeted him with a smile and told him to get in the car. As I drove away, he asked if I was mad at him. I told him that his mother and I were not mad and that we understood that things happen once in a while. I also explained that we did not want this to become a habit and that we felt he would probably learn his lesson from this. (Just so you understand, I was trying to play mind games with the little bugger. It's best if you keep them confused and guessing. If you fall into a predictable pattern, they will learn it and use it against you in their darkest hours!)
Before I pulled away from the curb I specifically asked him if he had any homework. He assured me he only had a Literature worksheet. Foolishly, I pulled away from the building. (I should have continued to use some warped form of psychology but I dropped my b.s. radar in a moment of weakness.)
Fastforward to 7:00p.m....The Boy Child, forced to open his backpack because I took the iPad away from him and told him he HAD to work on his Literature, announces in a quaking and wavering squeaky little voice, "Oh no! I had Math homework and didn't bring home my math book!"
It's a good thing I watched my wife go through labor. I learned the breathing technique and, in a pinch, it helps. I practiced the breathing method that one should do as they are trying to pass a 10lb living child through a straw. I was seething. I'm not going to say for sure, but I'm pretty sure a volcano erupted inside my head. I promise I didn't cuss...out loud...but I assure you I let my feelings be known.
At one point, I think I stripped him of every privilege except breathing. If I could have kept him alive and done that, I would have! (If I can figure that out, I'll do a detailed post later.)
Once the dust settled, we called a friend and I had the sweet child read the word problems to me on the phone and I typed them out. The sweet child's mother, a dear friend who shall be rewarded richly with multiple Diet Dr. Peppers, even took pictures of the last few problems and texted them to me because they were longer and a bit more complicated.
Through many tears, gnashing of teeth, wailing, crying, screaming, and head-banging moments, we worked and worked. I even phoned a couple who are both Math Teachers (one is a former Math teacher and is now a principal) and asked for assistance on solving two problems. They, too, shall be rewarded, only they will receive some form of liquor because I know they will like that much better than Diet Dr. Peppers.
Right before bedtime, The Boy Child announces that he has completed his math homework. We all breathed a sigh of relief and scurried him and his sister off to bed. Of course, we kissed them both, prayed with them (and, I'll admit I prayed OVER him with a hand on his forehead, and asked for the Holy Spirit to come down and remove this "short-term memory loss" issue from the child. I've always been intrigued by the "laying on of hands". If it works, I'll let you know and I'm going to hire myself out to parents in my area. I could make a killing!)
Shortly after the kids were in bed I received a text message. It seems that the sweet child who helped us out with the Math problems had forgotten his Literature homework. I'm contacting his Diet Dr. Pepper drinking Momma if that laying on of hands thing works! She'll be my first "client".
I think there's a moral to this story somewhere in here. Maybe it's something like: "Turn adversity into opportunity." or "When in need, phone a friend." or "Laying on of hands and praying over the child will prevent you from harming him/her and will keep you out of trouble with Child Services." I think it's that last one...
What a Weekend!
Where to begin? Let's start with the trip to the Lake. We got up at the butt-crack of dawn on Saturday morning. The Spouse rolled over as the alarm went off and said, "I don't feel so well." At first, in my bleary confusion, I thought James Earl Jones had somehow come to my bed in the night. Slowly, I opened my eyes, praying that I wouldn't see a naked James Earl Jones beside me. For a moment, it was sketchy, the sleep in my eyes and the darkness of the bedroom caused me to catch my breath.
Once I realized, it was only The Spouse with a nasty sinus infection, I rolled over and said, "Uhhh...that's not good." She croaked something in response. I'm not sure what it was but it gave me pause and made me squint my eyes to make sure JEJ was not in my bed. She crawled out of bed and went into the bathroom without another sound. I took that as my cue to get up and get moving.
I started the coffee and took the dog out. When I came back in, The Spouse was already making the bed and getting ready to start packing. The goal was to be on the road by 8:00a.m. I began rousing The Heathen at that point. The Boy Child leapt out of bed and was ready to go. The Girl Child was less than happy but stumbled into the living room.
Once the coffee finished brewing and I had my obligatory two cups, we made the mad and frenzied dash to pack up and get on the road. The Spouse declined the opportunity to go to an immediate health care and opted for a drug run at the local Wally World.
The 2 and a half hour drive passed pretty quickly. We found the lake house with no trouble and began unloading my SUV. As The Spouse came out of the house to get another load of crapola from the the truck, she raked her foot across a rebar stub that was sticking out of the ground. I'm not exactly clear on what she said but I think it involved some naughty words that would have made JEJ blush. She then turned to me and said, "do you think I'll get the lock jaw?" This is how she speaks sometimes..."the lock jaw." I may have muttered something like, "It would be a blessing if you did." I didn't say it too loud but the look I got reminded me that I have a larger life insurance policy than she does and that one simple "accident" on the lake could make her and those heathen very wealthy. I made up my mind to have witnesses around all weekend.
After the unload was done, we loaded up in my cousin's truck, hitched up the boat, and headed off to the marina. We unloaded the boat without incident. The Cousin asked me to pull his truck and trailer up the ramp and park it for him. I tried. Turns out, his trailer had a sudden love interest in another trailer. As a result, the other trailer had a broken taillight. I won't go into details, but there was a note on the windshield asking my cousin to contact the sherriff's office. (More on that after the issue is settled.)
We headed for their favorite spot on the lake. Boats were lined up, tied off and the fun was underway as we pulled up. Kids were pulled on tubes, dads drank a little beer while floating on noodles. (Note: the inventor of the floating noodle is a genius and should have a huge shrine erected in his/her honor). I was a bit worried about having my man card pulled for straddling a noodle but all of the really manly men were doing it too.
Eventually, another boat pulled up and wanted to tie onto ours. The Cousin attempted to help on the front end but ended up falling between the boats. Flesh was ripped off from his calf up his thigh. Luckily, he'd had a little liquid anesthesia so the pain was not intolerable.
We continued to float and sip from our cups of nectar. More tube rides were given and all was well. Then, a little rain came. Most of the women got out of the water and the men stayed in. I'm no sociologist but I think there's a doctoral thesis in this somewhere. We chided the lady folk and they, rather rudely, called us idiots. We, in turn, asked them to pass out more beer. Again, I'm thinking there's a sociological doctoral thesis in here.
The rain subsided, jet-skis pulled away with kids on tubes and everything went back to normal. For about 15 minutes. A second line of rain came in with some strong winds. Women got out of the water and men stayed in. Until...it began hailing! At that point, the men folk reverted to their primal need to protect the women and we all got out of the water and into the boats. It was NOT because of fear!
Everyone untied and began to make their ways back to the marinas. It was, after all, close to dinner time.
At the boat dock, The Cousin's boat died and wouldn't restart. He walked up, got in his truck, found the aforementioned note from the sheriff, and backed down the ramp. His Boy Child and I maneuvered the boat over to the trailer. At one point, I got out of the water, walked across the wooden deck and down the boat ramp. As I was nearing the water, The Cousin hollered out, "Be careful! It's slicker than owl shit out here!". As the words, "Okay!" came from my mouth, my feet slid out from under me. I landed with my right hand out and down. As I slid down the ramp, I was contemplating whether my wife and children had possibly snuck up on me and pushed.
I got up, helped get the boat on the trailer and we headed back to the house. The throbbing and swelling of my wrist was of little concern to me. I had a bottle of Tanqueray Gin, two limes and several small tonic water bottles.
Sunday morning, I ached a bit and The Spouse thought the wrist might be broken. I scoffed at her, took two ibuprofen, ate some breakfast and asked what we were doing that day.
The rest of the weekend was fairly uneventful. We arrived home on Monday mid-day and my arm was much better. The Spouse kept insisting that I get my arm checked out, though. I think she was worried that my earning potential would be affected. So, on Tuesday, I contacted a friend who is a Physical Therapist. He took some measurements, made me squeeze a handle, should his head, muttered to himself and said, "Dude, I think your arm is jacked. You need to get an x-ray and see an orthopedic doctor." This is professional therapist lingo for, "I believe you may have broken your radius and you probably need surgery."
Today, I went to see the doctor. I swear this guy was like 17 and looked like he had just come in from a GQ photo shoot. He walked in and said, "What did you do to your arm???!" The tone of voice was the same one my mother uses when she's pissed at me. I told him a shortened version and he said, "Well, it's broken and nothing in there looks like it ought to." He then began speaking in a foreign language or maybe I checked out for a minute or two.
I've had a surgery on this arm before and have a six inch titanium plate in there. The plate is broken in two and it appears that the bone is broken at the previous incision site. So, I'm in a cast up to my elbow, I can't drive and I think I'm sinking into a depression that only copious amounts of gin and ice cream can fix.
I'll post a picture later. At least I can still use my iPad to post on here and The Spouse and The Heathen can't profit off of me yet!
(Please forgive typos and errors. I tried to correct them but who knows if I got them!)
Once I realized, it was only The Spouse with a nasty sinus infection, I rolled over and said, "Uhhh...that's not good." She croaked something in response. I'm not sure what it was but it gave me pause and made me squint my eyes to make sure JEJ was not in my bed. She crawled out of bed and went into the bathroom without another sound. I took that as my cue to get up and get moving.
I started the coffee and took the dog out. When I came back in, The Spouse was already making the bed and getting ready to start packing. The goal was to be on the road by 8:00a.m. I began rousing The Heathen at that point. The Boy Child leapt out of bed and was ready to go. The Girl Child was less than happy but stumbled into the living room.
Once the coffee finished brewing and I had my obligatory two cups, we made the mad and frenzied dash to pack up and get on the road. The Spouse declined the opportunity to go to an immediate health care and opted for a drug run at the local Wally World.
The 2 and a half hour drive passed pretty quickly. We found the lake house with no trouble and began unloading my SUV. As The Spouse came out of the house to get another load of crapola from the the truck, she raked her foot across a rebar stub that was sticking out of the ground. I'm not exactly clear on what she said but I think it involved some naughty words that would have made JEJ blush. She then turned to me and said, "do you think I'll get the lock jaw?" This is how she speaks sometimes..."the lock jaw." I may have muttered something like, "It would be a blessing if you did." I didn't say it too loud but the look I got reminded me that I have a larger life insurance policy than she does and that one simple "accident" on the lake could make her and those heathen very wealthy. I made up my mind to have witnesses around all weekend.
After the unload was done, we loaded up in my cousin's truck, hitched up the boat, and headed off to the marina. We unloaded the boat without incident. The Cousin asked me to pull his truck and trailer up the ramp and park it for him. I tried. Turns out, his trailer had a sudden love interest in another trailer. As a result, the other trailer had a broken taillight. I won't go into details, but there was a note on the windshield asking my cousin to contact the sherriff's office. (More on that after the issue is settled.)
We headed for their favorite spot on the lake. Boats were lined up, tied off and the fun was underway as we pulled up. Kids were pulled on tubes, dads drank a little beer while floating on noodles. (Note: the inventor of the floating noodle is a genius and should have a huge shrine erected in his/her honor). I was a bit worried about having my man card pulled for straddling a noodle but all of the really manly men were doing it too.
Eventually, another boat pulled up and wanted to tie onto ours. The Cousin attempted to help on the front end but ended up falling between the boats. Flesh was ripped off from his calf up his thigh. Luckily, he'd had a little liquid anesthesia so the pain was not intolerable.
We continued to float and sip from our cups of nectar. More tube rides were given and all was well. Then, a little rain came. Most of the women got out of the water and the men stayed in. I'm no sociologist but I think there's a doctoral thesis in this somewhere. We chided the lady folk and they, rather rudely, called us idiots. We, in turn, asked them to pass out more beer. Again, I'm thinking there's a sociological doctoral thesis in here.
The rain subsided, jet-skis pulled away with kids on tubes and everything went back to normal. For about 15 minutes. A second line of rain came in with some strong winds. Women got out of the water and men stayed in. Until...it began hailing! At that point, the men folk reverted to their primal need to protect the women and we all got out of the water and into the boats. It was NOT because of fear!
Everyone untied and began to make their ways back to the marinas. It was, after all, close to dinner time.
At the boat dock, The Cousin's boat died and wouldn't restart. He walked up, got in his truck, found the aforementioned note from the sheriff, and backed down the ramp. His Boy Child and I maneuvered the boat over to the trailer. At one point, I got out of the water, walked across the wooden deck and down the boat ramp. As I was nearing the water, The Cousin hollered out, "Be careful! It's slicker than owl shit out here!". As the words, "Okay!" came from my mouth, my feet slid out from under me. I landed with my right hand out and down. As I slid down the ramp, I was contemplating whether my wife and children had possibly snuck up on me and pushed.
I got up, helped get the boat on the trailer and we headed back to the house. The throbbing and swelling of my wrist was of little concern to me. I had a bottle of Tanqueray Gin, two limes and several small tonic water bottles.
Sunday morning, I ached a bit and The Spouse thought the wrist might be broken. I scoffed at her, took two ibuprofen, ate some breakfast and asked what we were doing that day.
The rest of the weekend was fairly uneventful. We arrived home on Monday mid-day and my arm was much better. The Spouse kept insisting that I get my arm checked out, though. I think she was worried that my earning potential would be affected. So, on Tuesday, I contacted a friend who is a Physical Therapist. He took some measurements, made me squeeze a handle, should his head, muttered to himself and said, "Dude, I think your arm is jacked. You need to get an x-ray and see an orthopedic doctor." This is professional therapist lingo for, "I believe you may have broken your radius and you probably need surgery."
Today, I went to see the doctor. I swear this guy was like 17 and looked like he had just come in from a GQ photo shoot. He walked in and said, "What did you do to your arm???!" The tone of voice was the same one my mother uses when she's pissed at me. I told him a shortened version and he said, "Well, it's broken and nothing in there looks like it ought to." He then began speaking in a foreign language or maybe I checked out for a minute or two.
I've had a surgery on this arm before and have a six inch titanium plate in there. The plate is broken in two and it appears that the bone is broken at the previous incision site. So, I'm in a cast up to my elbow, I can't drive and I think I'm sinking into a depression that only copious amounts of gin and ice cream can fix.
I'll post a picture later. At least I can still use my iPad to post on here and The Spouse and The Heathen can't profit off of me yet!
(Please forgive typos and errors. I tried to correct them but who knows if I got them!)
Saturday, September 3, 2011
One Last Post Before I Check Out For The Weekend
Okay, just so you know...I'm trying to lose weight...AGAIN! Those of you who don't know me will be surprised to learn that I am not the most sveldt individual in the world. I'm sure you couldn't tell from my lovely Transformer mask picture.
In December of 2009, I went to the doctor a very sick individual. I had a severe sinus infection, laryngitis, a swollen big toe, whooping cough, you name it and I was suffering from it. The worst part of the visit was that, in my delirium from being so ill and near death, I looked at the scale when the nurse weighed me. I almost fell over dead right then and there. I weighed a whopping 242lbs! That's not bad if you're a teenaged walrus trying to make your way through the world. I, however, am not a walrus, nor am I in my teens.
The nurse practitioner came in and I remember saying to her, "First, I need you to take care of this (I pointed to my swollen forehead, puffy eyes and blood red nose). Then, we gotta talk about my fatness!" She agreed and, to make a long story short, I began to go to the gym five days a week at 5:00a.m. I checked in with her once a month, she weighed me, took my blood pressure, charged me my co-pay and charted my progress. In about a year, I lost around 50lbs! I felt great and I looked good. I went from a size 42 pant to a 36 and I was loving life.
When I changed jobs, I slacked off on going to the gym and didn't keep an eye on my eating. Not because I'm basically lazy...well, okay it WAS because I'm basically lazy. In the past week or so, I finally admitted to myself that the new washer and dryer were not responsible for my clothes fitting tighter. Indeed, I stepped back on a scale and weighed in at 230lbs! I'm 5'7" tall (I was 5'8" tall but, evidently, someone put a hex on me and I've lost an inch somewhere...that's a post for another day. I'm really curious as to where that inch went and if I'll ever be able to find it again. Maybe a chiropractor could stretch me back. I digress.)
So, I've started changing my eating habits again. I'm eating smaller and healthier meals. For instance, last night we went out with The Spouse's parents for dinner. I ordered the 2 piece fish dinner instead of the 3 piece or the AYCE plate. Okay, that's not a good example but it's just part of what I've done. I've also stopped eating eggs every morning and have switched to oatmeal with dried cranberrys.
You get the point. I'm back to being a tubby bubby and I don't like it. I may splurge this weekend and drink a few beers and eat some unhealthy stuff, but I'll eat less than I would have and I'll be back on my new health kick next week. Wish me well. Now, I've gotta go pack the Twinkies before The Spouse sees them!
In December of 2009, I went to the doctor a very sick individual. I had a severe sinus infection, laryngitis, a swollen big toe, whooping cough, you name it and I was suffering from it. The worst part of the visit was that, in my delirium from being so ill and near death, I looked at the scale when the nurse weighed me. I almost fell over dead right then and there. I weighed a whopping 242lbs! That's not bad if you're a teenaged walrus trying to make your way through the world. I, however, am not a walrus, nor am I in my teens.
The nurse practitioner came in and I remember saying to her, "First, I need you to take care of this (I pointed to my swollen forehead, puffy eyes and blood red nose). Then, we gotta talk about my fatness!" She agreed and, to make a long story short, I began to go to the gym five days a week at 5:00a.m. I checked in with her once a month, she weighed me, took my blood pressure, charged me my co-pay and charted my progress. In about a year, I lost around 50lbs! I felt great and I looked good. I went from a size 42 pant to a 36 and I was loving life.
When I changed jobs, I slacked off on going to the gym and didn't keep an eye on my eating. Not because I'm basically lazy...well, okay it WAS because I'm basically lazy. In the past week or so, I finally admitted to myself that the new washer and dryer were not responsible for my clothes fitting tighter. Indeed, I stepped back on a scale and weighed in at 230lbs! I'm 5'7" tall (I was 5'8" tall but, evidently, someone put a hex on me and I've lost an inch somewhere...that's a post for another day. I'm really curious as to where that inch went and if I'll ever be able to find it again. Maybe a chiropractor could stretch me back. I digress.)
So, I've started changing my eating habits again. I'm eating smaller and healthier meals. For instance, last night we went out with The Spouse's parents for dinner. I ordered the 2 piece fish dinner instead of the 3 piece or the AYCE plate. Okay, that's not a good example but it's just part of what I've done. I've also stopped eating eggs every morning and have switched to oatmeal with dried cranberrys.
You get the point. I'm back to being a tubby bubby and I don't like it. I may splurge this weekend and drink a few beers and eat some unhealthy stuff, but I'll eat less than I would have and I'll be back on my new health kick next week. Wish me well. Now, I've gotta go pack the Twinkies before The Spouse sees them!
Friday, September 2, 2011
A Few Things To Mull Over
I'm constantly tweaking and trying to add items to this blog that will make it more enjoyable for those of you who stick around to read. I've made the following changes recently:
1. A poll -- (I wish I could make this flash in rainbow colors, but I can't so I'll settle for posting it in bold and red.) About once a week, I'll put up a new poll question for you to respond to.
2. A suggested reading list. This, too will be an ongoing list. Feel free to send me recommendations.
3. A follow by email spot. You'll receive email notifications of my most recent entries.
Stick around, I'm sure I'll add more as I continue to learn how to manipulate this site and make it better. Please feel free to leave me suggestions in the comment boxes of any post. I'm open to almost any ideas.
Update on Little Kate: as of the last report I received mid-morning today, Kate is doing well. The surgery was deemed a success and Kate has been awake and asking for something to drink. The doctor finally came in and relented. This kid's a fighter and she's one feisty little lady. Many, many thanks to all who've prayed for her and her family. Please keep them coming!
Update on Kimberly: Kimberly received some good news yesterday! No chemo for now. The additional testing they did recently did not indicate the need for more chemo at this time. Please continue to keep her in your thoughts and prayers as she goes back to the hospital on October 3 for more testing.
Update on The Heathen: They continue to be heathen, though not as bad as they were. School has settled them down some and "the chart" has been revised and posted. Basically, for every requirement you fail to meet, you lose a DAY of technology. For instance, if the boy fails to exercise and fails to wear his retainer for an extra hour one day that would be two days with no technology. Technology, in this house and as defined by The Spouse, "...is anything that plugs in!" She's a tough bird, that one!
This Weekend: I'll be out of touch this weekend. I'll be chillin' at a lake house with a cousin and his family. No t.v., no internet. We will have power and A.C. though! I'm dragging my iPad along and may compose some entries while I'm relaxing. If I do, I'll update the blog on Monday or Tuesday. Until then, have a safe and fun Labor Day weekend!
1. A poll -- (I wish I could make this flash in rainbow colors, but I can't so I'll settle for posting it in bold and red.) About once a week, I'll put up a new poll question for you to respond to.
2. A suggested reading list. This, too will be an ongoing list. Feel free to send me recommendations.
3. A follow by email spot. You'll receive email notifications of my most recent entries.
Stick around, I'm sure I'll add more as I continue to learn how to manipulate this site and make it better. Please feel free to leave me suggestions in the comment boxes of any post. I'm open to almost any ideas.
Update on Little Kate: as of the last report I received mid-morning today, Kate is doing well. The surgery was deemed a success and Kate has been awake and asking for something to drink. The doctor finally came in and relented. This kid's a fighter and she's one feisty little lady. Many, many thanks to all who've prayed for her and her family. Please keep them coming!
Update on Kimberly: Kimberly received some good news yesterday! No chemo for now. The additional testing they did recently did not indicate the need for more chemo at this time. Please continue to keep her in your thoughts and prayers as she goes back to the hospital on October 3 for more testing.
Update on The Heathen: They continue to be heathen, though not as bad as they were. School has settled them down some and "the chart" has been revised and posted. Basically, for every requirement you fail to meet, you lose a DAY of technology. For instance, if the boy fails to exercise and fails to wear his retainer for an extra hour one day that would be two days with no technology. Technology, in this house and as defined by The Spouse, "...is anything that plugs in!" She's a tough bird, that one!
This Weekend: I'll be out of touch this weekend. I'll be chillin' at a lake house with a cousin and his family. No t.v., no internet. We will have power and A.C. though! I'm dragging my iPad along and may compose some entries while I'm relaxing. If I do, I'll update the blog on Monday or Tuesday. Until then, have a safe and fun Labor Day weekend!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Little Kate is in Surgery
Just to let you know, the little girl I profiled earlier is now in surgery. Please take a moment to say a prayer, offer a postive thought, whatever you can do. I know the family will appreciate it all!
Thanks!
Thanks!
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