On Blisters

So, I don't want to turn this into a best blister ever post - but this story is one that some may have never heard and I wish that I could forget.

When I was a young man, I recognized that my wife is a considerably better athlete than me. This is hard on a young man's pride - particularly one that thinks of himself as athletically adept. [As an older man, I have realized that the best way to look more athletic standing next to my wife - is to make sure that she is about six to nine months pregnant all of the time. Hence, the five kids.] So in order to combat this problem, I wanted to consistently prove that I was athletic and willing to participate. Go for a walk. No problem. Through bear infested wilderness where the slower one gets eaten. Probably invite my sister Mary - but no problem. Go swimming. No problem. Go swimming where there are sharks in the water. Probably invite my father who swims a bit like a beached walrus - but no problem.

However, one early fall day - my girlfriend at the time (my wife now) asked if I wanted to go rollerblading. I asked if there was any risk of death by wild animal. She said, "probably not - but you could fall into the creek." I said, "No problem." Let's do it.

If you have seen Chuck, my wife at age 20 was the equivalent of "Captain Awesome." She was capable of any physical feat that I could possibly mention. I think 10 years of being married to a softee like myself has probably withered away some of those darn near bionic skills - but not all of them. She can still do one handed - whole body stands.

Anyway, we went to the Keystone trail at 72nd and Pacific. Flat and basically straight. And we started rollerblading. I had borrowed a pair from one of my brothers - probably Mike. I was wearing the appropriate gear - helmet, pads on my knees and probably on my wrists too - but I don't remember for sure on my hands. Anyway, we started to blade. And, I was trying to keep up with Cheryl - in attempt to protect my already battered pride. I might mention that at this point - Cheryl probably went rollerblading two or three times a week and this was my first time.

So, on my virgin run, we were cruising. And we came to a little dip where you cross under a street. I think it was 72nd Street. We had only gone a couple of blocks - maybe half a mile. We started to go down this little run and my leg started to shake. [Important note: when a sophomore in high school, I had a tremendously fat person roll onto my ankle doing a roll block. I was playing defensive tackle. Throughout the rest of high school, and to this day, I have tremendously weak ankles.] Anyway, my leg started to shake. Then it started to tremble - and pretty soon it was downright convulsive.

Well, rather than suffer the ignominity of driving right off the trail into the Papio creek. I sat down. That's right I sat down - not on my various padded areas - but on my right butt cheek. Did I mention that the trail is concrete.

Anywho, the resulting raspberry was truly epic. It may not be exactly a blister - but it was in the blister family. This thing was oozing puss for approximately 6 months - not an exaggeration. I am lucky that I did not die from gangrene (particularly after watching Man v. Wild where a cut can mean death in the jungle in mere hours).

To give you an idea of the size of this - I still have a scar on my leg/butt that is approximately the size of the bottom of a regular sized coffee mug. At its most disgusting (about two days after the accident - I had a puss delivering monster that extended from about two inches above the back of my knee to mid-way up my butt on the right side. Truly awful. Worst of all - I could not watch the ooze. I just had to change the pads and smell it. Yuck.

On Handball

Congratulations to my sister, Mary, who has identified an obscure sport that has the potential to be quite a fun opportunity for excellence. Carpe Diem!

So, I did a bit of research and there are 0 handball associations in Nebraska or Iowa. I also looked at the video of the gold medal game at the women's National Championship. I think this could be an area for the region to dominate and get some national and world attention. See it here.

Training for my daughters starts now. CYO handball may be a real possibility.

On drinking out of someone else's coffee cup

Today, at the office, Pickles worked the front desk. So, I went out to talk with her while I ate a plate of fruit and nuts. I am a gatherer (of hunter-gatherer fame). While we were chatting, I looked over and saw a coffee cup. I drink a significant amount of coffee, and while I did not remember this specific cup from my past - I figured it was mine since it was white with a big red O!. It was empty - so I went in back and filled it up. I then finished my plate of food, conversation and the coffee.

I returned to my desk and lo and behold, my coffee cup (white with a bright red O!) was on my desk resting peacefully undisturbed. Oops. The cup I drank from was from a rather large man who was a bit unkempt. So, when I die of strange mouth related diseases - you will know the rest of the story. Apparently, he was not probably someone that I would regularly share my coffee cup - which happens to be a relatively exclusive group to begin with.

While feet do not gross me out - drinking coffee from a dirty old man's cup - apparently does. The feeling is a bit hard to describe because it has a lingering effect that sits in both your mouth and stomach. It reminds me of eating something with hair in it and finding the hair unfortunately in your mouth. You can't really help it and yet you feel like you are less of a human being due to your error. Moreover, your brain tells your stomach that whatever made it through your baleen pre-hair actually is the equivalent of wet hair. Bad, bad, bad. And hair - particularly wet - grosses me out.

Pickles laughed a lot at my error. And of course used the Pickles voice to greet someone that happened to walk in at roughly that exact moment. Overall, low moment in Chamber West adventure.

Guest Post on SPN

http://www.siliconprairienews.com/2010/01/building-an-entrepreneurial-ecosystem-what-does-success-look-like

Check out my guest post on SPN.

Sick Kids

My kids are currently all ill with the stomach flu. Thus, our house is an absolute germ vacation right now. There is vomit in the hallways and on the floors. There are random emergency buckets scattered amongst the toys. It's wretched.

Here's what I don't understand. First, at about 9pm last night - my son, James, came down to tell me that my son, Aidan, had just vomitted in his sleep. So, I go up and Aidan is still sleeping amongst his vomit laden sheets. Then, I rouse him enough to clean off his face and get his clothes off. I start working on the sheets and the like - and my son, James, who has spent the better part of the day whimpering in the middle of his vomitting says "this is the worst thing that I have ever smelled." Now I am no expert but all vomit smells terrible - and Aidan's was not unusually putrid. But, if you had just spent the day feeling wretched - don't you think a little empathy would be possible? Not James. He kept asking analytical vomit questions - such as "what's that?" - when he looked at the giant mess or - "was that an unusually chunky vomit, dad?".

Second, at about 10:30 after cleaning up the Aidan' vomits (#1 and #2 and #3), I decided it was safe to go to bed. So, I went in to give my oldest daughter, Martha, a kiss. I literally bend over to give her a kiss - I am inches from her ear (she is on her side) and I realize that there is something that appears to be oatmeal - lying next to her mouth. This is not my first rodeo - so I immediately recoil and examine from a far. Yes, vomit and it has run down her pillow and is basically laying like a mat beneath her. Question two - how can someone sleep in their own vomit? This strikes me as impossible - but two separate instances in a span of 2 hours suggest that vomitting may actually help my kids sleep more soundly. Absurd. Anyway, I had to wake her up to clean her up. And she asked me - "what's that?" I said vomit, and she said - "who vomitted?" I said, "well, Martha you did." She said, "Oh, that's gross. What's vomit?" I did my best to explain to her the origins of vomit in the nether regions of her belly. She obviously did not get it - but she's only 3 so I except her inability to grasp the inner workings of her digestive system.

Anyway, that brings us to more of an analysis of vomit and illness. Younger kids tend to simply play through their vomitting. Martha essentially went right back to sleep as did Aidan. Cheryl and James, on the other hand, did not. Both spent about 24 hours in agony. Why is that? How is it possible that a child that would weep for 15 minutes if she stubbed her toe or scratched her arm - could simply roll over with vomit still in her hair, missing her shirt (because it had to be removed - and I was not fast enough to put on a new one) and go right to sleep. Its just amazing. I feel like I have to sit and clear my mind and shower after my kids' incidents - and they roll right back into bed and go right to sleep - until the next gastro-intestinal explosion. Amazing.

Things to Ponder

Last night my son, James, was sleeping in the p90x Cherry Bomb starting position with his shirt pulled over his head – in order to allow his mother to provide him with “back scratches.” Thing to ponder – how do kids sleep in their various yoga-esque positions? Aidan often falls asleep as if he literally narcolepsied onto the bed.

This morning my son, Dennis, couldn’t figure out how to put on his shirt. So he began a long slow Imperial Death March (Darth Vader) lament on the stairs outside of my room. When I came out and helped him, he gave me a “oh…thank you” and then the Star Wars theme song in a happy tune. Denny provides his own background music for all activities throughout the day – favorites are Star Wars music and Indiana Jones music for jumping off furniture or using whips. Thing to ponder-

Martha likes to “shake her cake” – pull up her dress and wiggle her butt. Does anybody know where this comes from? Thing to ponder – should I be worried already? A colleague told me that I should plan on putting her on birth control at 12…

On Pickles

Pickles told me that my blog was boring. So, in order to be funnier, I’ll tell more stories about her – thereby completely obliterating any negative comments on my blog at work. Brilliant.

Pescovegans

Cheryl and I have decided to eat healthier, and so, we are attempting a pescovegan (pes CO va gen) diet. This means that we will not be eating meat, except fish, or dairy, except eggs. Why are we doing this? Because she told me to...

Actually, I think the purpose is to create a strange diet that requires one to consider each bite and handful of food - not just for its taste, but its nutritional content. In many ways, I think that you could do any other diet that has the same basic principles and have success in losing weight - but I am not a kinesiologist...so there you go.

One of the real advantages of this diet is that food tends to taste better. Part of this is the spices and the attempt at creating flavor - whereas before the fall back was cheese or butter. Thus, I think that I have used more oregano, curry and cayenne in the last three days - then I did the 4th quarter of 2009. In addition, I think that this sort of diet almost always means more asian style dishes. Again, I like Chinese, Thai and Indian as well as stir-fry - so this is a winner for me.

In addition, Cheryl has started the year with a gusto from a workout perspective. We do a weekly competion for minutes worked out - this week she had just shy of 300...that's pretty good for us. That's nearly 45 minutes for all seven days...I had a measly 175 - which is actually pretty good for me.

So, I'll keep you posted on the pescovegan diet and the workout totals...By the way, scoreboard - Tom won last year (1 - nil).

On Star Wars the Clone Wars

Over Christmas, my kids watched the Mummy and the Mummy Returns. My brother (the doctor one) called Mummy a visual sedative - because my screaming, running, jumping hooligan children - sat down, mouths open and were quiet. Not just sort of quite - but completely totally transfixed...

I have seen that this strategy does not always work (ie movies that Martha or James are not at all interested) - but in particular, Star Wars the Clone Wars on Friday nights on Cartoon Network appears to be our regular 30 minutes of silence and peace. This is a particularly useful period of time because it gives my wife and I a chance to clean the kitchen, bedrooms, do whatever. Its like being alone in our own home. Its sort of amazing respite.

Now let me be clear - I do not advise that you simply put kids in front of the TV to turn them into zombies for hours a day...but occassionally, like once a week, it is a blessing.

In addition, I find that if I TiVo the Star Wars show - I can watch it...