Survey Says...

Hello everyone!

So Father's Day has come and gone for the year, and I wanted to tell you about my favorite present from the kiddos...

It was one of these surveys that you can download from the Internet, where you fill in answers about your dad.  My children are young, and so the answers were pretty awesome.  Here are some of the highlights:

1.)  My Dad is funny because:

"he's not funny"

2.)  My Dad thinks I am funny when:

"climb trees"

3.)  My Dad is _____ years old.

"2"

"21" - I'll take this one

"60"

4.)  His favorite thing to do is:

"play little Legos...that's what I'm doing"

5.)  My Dad's job is:

"at his new work"

6.)  He loves to eat:

"pizza & macaroni & steak"

"pizza"

"steak" - I see a trend

7.)  He is really good at:

"Nerf guns and playing video games"

"building Star Wars Lego ships" - because grown-up skills are overrated

8.)  My Dad always says:

"nothing"

"I like to eat newspaper"

"to obey"

There are a couple of other answers that I'll keep to myself, just because they were extra sweet.

Anyway, Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there.  Keep up the good fight!

How Bad Do I Want It?

Hello world!

Naturally, it's been months since I've last bothered to blog. As a result, this could turn into some stream-of-consciousness rant...you've been warned.

In any case, I wanted to monologue for a minute about the exhausting nature of fatherhood. Now, before all you mothers out there get all bent out of shape and decide to slash my tires for my possibly implying that fatherhood is harder than motherhood, know that I have nothing but respect for my female counterparts, and that I will declare on demand that mothers almost always work harder at parenthood than the men. I merely intend to speak to what I know of parenting, which is fatherhood.

I think constantly of all the things I could accomplish if I were not burdened by the need to both bring home paychecks and raise up obedient, compassionate and, I'll admit it, COOL kids. I could write a book, get ripped again, or even learn how to cook things more sophisticated than pizza rolls and ramen noodles. Perhaps there are some fathers out there who can do it...but I'm certainly not one of them! For me (and I suspect, most of my peers), it's the alarm clock at 6, the lingering in bed until closer to 7, the workday, the few precious and maddening hours with the kiddos, the bedtime routine, then staying up later than recommended just to have enough time to watch an episode or two of Doctor Who before collapsing into bed for [hopefully] 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep, which are almost always interrupted anyway.

This is why I have a BMI implying obesity (who am I kidding...it's true), why I've punted twice on taking the Professional Engineer exam, why the garage isn't clean and why I only tend to blog on a semi-annual basis. And let's not forget all those sports cars I'm missing out on thanks to the estimated $750k price tag for raising 3 middle-class kids!

So is it all worth it? I think so. It's miserably exhausting, and pretty stifling to give so much of myself to these children, but in return, I get to establish a legacy. My diligence could yield cancer-curers, Mars-walkers, or simply a nation of citizens who will respect and love their fellow man. Of course, I love the more day-to-day things as well. I get to teach my kids how to wrestle, build LEGOs together, and convince them that a baseball glove goes on the hand NOT used for throwing (they're still a little skeptical).

Alright. I'm done complaining. I just needed to talk it out awhile. But I would like to get ripped again. Just sayin'.

And just for fun, here is a picture...because I know you guys love pictures...

Tough Mudder

As some of you may have noticed, there has been a proliferation of obstacle-course races (also known as "mud runs") in recent years.  Vanilla running events (such as 5k or 10k road races) are apparently too boring...or at the very least, not working enough muscle groups for the discerning amateur athlete.

I also noticed this trend, and wanted to give it a shot.  So, in my usual style, I signed up for the toughest, most hardcore event I could possibly find...in this case, Tough Mudder.  With most mud runs clocking in at a modest 5k, the Tough Mudder stood out by offering 12 MILES of pain and suffering.  I was sold!  I had several months to train for it, so I figured it'd be good motivation to get out there and exercise.

Summer began and I trained with slightly more fervor than usual, knowing what awaited me in October.  However, the training slowed to a crawl thanks to a vacation in Colorado and triple-digit heat indexes.  I tried commuting to work by bike for awhile, but I didn't keep it up either.  About the only thing I did consistently was some basic weight training, since it was comfortably indoors.

As the weather started to cool with summer's end, October was looking awfully close.  So I got back outside and started logging the miles again.  Because of my busy schedule, though, I was only getting a couple of runs in a week...but I was improving.  I started getting past 5k territory and into 10k's. I wasn't losing much weight, but between the running and the weight training,  I was feeling OK about my fitness.  I also started watching YouTube videos of prior Tough Mudders to get psyched about my training.  The kiddos were also getting interested in what I described to them as an "adult obstacle course".  I really wanted to show them what I was doing, but I wasn't about to ask Katie to haul the kiddos out there, so I got a GoPro camera to wear instead.

Finally, after months of preparation, the day had come!  I woke up early that morning and met up with several folks from church, and we all rode the church bus up to Maysville to experience Tough Mudder.  The first thing everyone noticed after getting off of the bus was that IT WAS COLD.  Overcast, windy, and somewhere in the low 40s, we were all shivering and ready to get moving.  The shuttle bus system was remarkably well thought out, thankfully, and we were quickly transported to the registration area, where we got our race numbers written all over our bodies with Sharpies, our bibs pinned to our shirts, and our bags checked in.  I was thoroughly impressed with their logistics.  And that I had 78182 written on my forehead.

Our group stretched out for a bit while everyone finished with registration, and I got the camera strapped to my head and tested it out a bit.  Everything looked good.  I was ready for this!  We soon headed over to the starting area and we got to see the post-run party zone, complete with Dos-Equis-branded stage, beer tent and keg-tossing zone.  We also saw the infamous Electroshock Therapy setup, right in front of the finsh line.  Hundreds of sinister-looking electrical wires dangled over a muddy path strewn with hay bales placed to keep you up among the wiring.  That was 12 miles in our future, however, so it was quickly forgotten as we approached the start line.

To say it was a starting "line", however, is a bit of a misnomer.  To even SEE the start, you had to climb over an 8-foot wall.  So we made our way over there, and waited for the folks in front of us to climb the wall.  But nobody was climbing!  We stood there in the cold among our comrades wondering what was up, and soon we heard the Star Spangled Banner being performed.  I went ahead and turned on the camera and put my hand over my heart and took in the pre-"race" festivities.  I put race in quotations since Tough Mudder is not actually considered a race, but rather a challenge.  After the end of the national anthem, some hooting and hollering ensued, and then the folks on the other side of the wall started running.  Once that happened, they let us start climbing over the wall to get to the start.

To be honest, climbing these walls was on my short-list of things I wasn't sure I would be able to do.  Even after my training, I was still pretty overweight.  And pull-ups weren't my strong suit.  But when it was my turn to scale the wall, I was able to pull myself up-and-over with no trouble at all.  Once we were all over it and in the starting area, we were told that if we were in the 9:40 wave (we were), then we should start running and catch up to everyone who just left.  We did.  As we started to run, I looked to check on my camera to ensure everything was still OK, but I noticed it wasn't responding to my button presses.  It looked like it had locked up, and that I could probably fix it if I could pull the battery and reset it...but everyone was on the run now, so it would have to wait.

A short distance later, we got to the first Kiss of Mud, which is a fancy term for crawling in the mud under some barbed wire.  I was hoping for a bit of a backup in the line so I could work on the camera, but when I got there, there was no wait for the mud, so I crawled on through.  After that, it was a bit more running and then some knee-high-ish liquid mud to walk through.  Over the course of the run, we would see all kinds of viscosity of mud, from dirty water to suck-your-shoes-off slop.  But more on that later.  We got through that mud and soon arrived at the...Arctic Enema!

Several construction-waste dumpsters full of green-colored ice water awaited us.  Again, the lines were moving quickly, so no time for camera maintenance.  In moments, I was standing at the edge of the icy pool, waiting for the poor soul in front of me to go UNDERWATER and to the far side of the dumpster.  I heard a quick countdown and then "GO!", and with little hesitation, I threw myself into the water.  To be perfectly honest, I couldn't fathom just how quickly one could go from feeling OK about life to WANTING TO DIE.  Sure enough, as I stood in that water, I wanted to die, but since that wasn't going to happen right then and there, I had to GET OUT.  So I waded over to the middle of the dumpster where there was a wooden barrier to force you underwater, and I went under.  As I went down, I felt the camera start to slip off of my head a bit, so I quickly put a hand on it and kept it on.  Once I was certain I had cleared the barrier, I came back up for air, and felt even worse, because I had just voluntarily stuck my head in ice water, and that's a good way to get a massive brain freeze.  I finally reached the end of the dumpster, but had to wait for the guy in front of me to get out, so I got to enjoy the water even more.

I eventually was able to stumble out of the dumpster, and feel the warmth of the overcast, windy, 40-degree weather.  I decided to try once more and get the camera battery out, but my hands were understandably non-functional at this point.  A couple of folks from our church were standing there watching the icy misery, so I had them try to get the battery out as well...but with no success.  At that point, I made the call to just leave the camera with them, since I didn't want to hold up my running crew any longer.  We continued on, and while I was quite annoyed with the whole camera saga, I was glad to be done messing with it and moving on with the Mudder.

The next few miles were slow-going and muddy, with lots of people slowing down for the slick downhill trails (which were generally best-navigated sliding on your butt) and the steep, equally slick uphill marches.  This was an ATV park, and most people who navigate these trails do so with...an ATV.  But we soldiered on.  There were more walls to climb, a series of muddy-water-filled trenches to hurdle over, and some hay bales to climb over...all of which weren't much trouble.  Then we found some underground trenches to crawl through.  It was just my luck that I got in line for the trench filled halfway with water, I wasn't deterred.  I had done caving before, so the prospect of confined spaces (even with a bit of water) didn't bother me.  I went in, and soon could not see a thing.  I pushed forward, waiting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I couldn't see it.  Soon, my head went *bump* and I stopped.  *forward*  *bump*  *forward*  *bump*  I was for sure the trench went in a straight line!  After a few more attempts at forward progress, I glanced to each side, and saw a glimmer of light to my right, so I turned and continued, eventually finding my way to the surface.

The Tough Mudder continued, and after my stint in the water-filled trench, the wind and the cold and my thoroughly soaked clothes started to chill me a bit. But there was hope.  Coming up was the Fire Walker obstacle, and I was overjoyed at the thought of feeling some heat, even if I had to walk through the source of it.  My hopes were dashed a bit, however, because the Fire Walker forced us to climb in and out of muddy, water-filled ditches as we breathed in the smoke.  The last part had us jumping over the fire, but into a deceptively deep pool of muddy water, which was not at all warm.  So I jumped into, then swam and crawled out of the pool, still uncommonly cold.

Next we spent some time trudging through the take-your-shoes-off kind of mud...I got in waist-deep muck a few times, but I managed to keep my shoes ON.  I'm sure others weren't quite so lucky.  Awhile later, we hit some log barricades that we had to weave over and under, barbed wire carefully placed to show us which way to go.  I had little trouble with it, and found it rather entertaining.

More running and trudging up hills, and then we worked our way over a mountain of hay bales, under more barbed-wire crawls, and around an amusing loop where we carried logs of wood to make sure our upper-bodies were getting good exercise too.  At the aid station after the aptly named "Hold Your Wood", I could see that more and more folks were taking the emergency heat blankets.  These are the simple foil blankets that reflect your body heat back onto yourself in order to keep from going into hypothermia.  I was cold, for sure, but my exceptional BMI was working in my favor for once, and I felt no need to grab one.  I did, however, make sure to grab water and bananas whenever offered.  The bananas were amusing in that you ended up usually getting an extra helping of mud to eat while you chowed down.  Calorie-free, right?

I also took some time to wash my sunglasses off at each water station.  I realized as I went that taking any sort of eyewear along on a Tough Mudder was a mistake.  They just kept getting coated in mud!  To add insult to injury, the sun was nonexistent, and so sunglasses were pointless, prescription or non-prescription.  If I ever do another Tough Mudder, I will leave the glasses behind and endure a little nearsightedness.

The next series of obstacles really start to put the hurt on us.  While people always tend to fear Electroshock Therapy at the end, the Electric Eel could very well be worse.  Instead of running through charged wires, you're crawling through them.  In water.  This combination is generally frowned upon...and with good reason.  It hurts.  I approached this obstacle and saw that you could take a running start and "slip-n-slide" your way through a lot of the wires quickly.  So I did just that, and it worked great.  I flew through 2/3 of the wires without getting hit once.  As soon as I stopped, however, the voltage kicked in.  Hard.  I crawled my heart out, but I just kept getting shocked and shocked all over.  I crawled so fast that I had caught up with my teammate ahead of me and started yelling to get him to crawl faster, because I was being shocked without abandon!  I made it out, but I couldn't tell you how many times I was hit.  But I can tell you it didn't feel good...

Soon after the Eel, we reached the big, 12' walls to climb over.  While the previous 8-footers could be easily done alone, the 12-footers required teamwork.  We had a couple of veterans in our group, so with their experience we quickly had a plan together and were lifting and pushing folks up the wall. I'll admit that I wasn't very good at this and probably lifted and pushed at the wrong times, but despite this we were getting people up there.  Finally, it was time to hoist my short, dense carcass up the wall.  It was a bear for both me and everyone else pulling and shoving, but I eventually cleared it.  But there were two walls, so we had to do it all over again.  I will definitely make sure to lose more weight if I sign up for another Tough Mudder!

Very shortly after those walls, we had to get past the rings exercise.  Swing from ring to ring or fall into more cold water.  Most people were failing this, since we were all getting tired and those rings were feeling pretty slick, even with gloves.  When my turn came, I felt the first ring, and knew immediately that I wouldn't be able to hold on with one hand.  So I looked at the pool of water, saw where the ladder OUT of the pool was located, and swung out on that first ring straight for that ladder!  My strategy worked, and I was quickly out of the water...but I was wet once again.

The Boa Constrictor was after that, and it forced everyone to shimmy down a tube into a barbed-wire-covered pool of cold muddy water.  To get out of the pool, you had to shimmy back up another tube, but you would have to be underwater in the tube for a short time.  It's meant to be claustrophobia-inducing, but it didn't bother me a bit, even though I was underwater in a tube.  When I pulled myself out of the tube on the other side, it was so slick that I slid down the hill and off of the course!  I found it rather funny...

The water-park fun continued after that with the infamous Walk the Plank obstacle.  Climb a tower, then jump 15' into more cold water.  I was really starting to get tired of being wet...the wind was relentless!  But after awhile of being on this course, you stop thinking about it and just keep going.  So I climbed the tower and felt the cold bite of the wind, and I looked down, and it seemed higher than I had anticipated.  But I had done this sort of thing before as a teenager, and threw myself off the platform without hesitation when I heard the 3..2..1..GO!  I had to keep a hand on my face as I jumped so my sunglasses wouldn't disappear in the deep of the pool.  I hit the water, sank for awhile, then went back up and wearily swam to shore.  After getting out of that pool of water and feeling the wind, I almost started looking for one of those emergency blankets...but I continued without.

The next obstacle on the trail was Everest...a massive 14' quarter-pipe that we had to run up and attempt to grab and climb over the top.  Several people were up top sticking around to help pull people in.  It was fun to watch folks try and fail to get up there (though some fell rather violently face-first into the slick ramped surface), but I had a feeling I would be doing the same, because earlier in the run I had slipped on the trail and turned an ankle.  I felt pretty sure I could finish the course on it, but I would not be setting any speed records.  My found myself at the front of the line, and I tried to make a sprint up the pipe, but I fell way short of the helping hands reaching for me.  So I slid back down, went back to the line, and waited a bit.  A few moments later, I attempted it again, but again, I failed.  Rather than keep throwing myself onto Everest, I decided to walk around and cut my losses.  I gave it the college try, so I didn't mind too much.

The remainder of the course was a slow, weary march to the end.  There was a Warrior Carry section, where you had to take turns carrying a partner, but with my ankle in poor shape I wasn't about to try it, so I walked on.  More hills, more mud, and then we found the monkey bars.  When it was my turn, I felt the first bar, and just like the rings, knew that I would fall almost immediately.  But I tried anyway, and I fell into the cold cold water.  After that, there was just one more left...the Electroshock Therapy.  It was a quiet last mile or so.  Everybody was ready to get out of their soaked clothes and the cold wind, but everyone knew they still had to hazard the wires one more time.  The heat blankets were getting ditched, since what fool would wear a metal blanket through electric wires?  I jokingly dared a couple of people to try it out, but I had no takers.

We trudged up the last of the hills and we were there...we could smell the finish, but we could also smell the voltage.  A small group of us formed at the entrance, quietly psyching ourselves up for one last dash.  The crowd was watching, and an announcer was on a microphone giving the play-by-play and urging us on.  One of my group made a run for it, but she fell face-first in the mud halfway through, and the crowd moaned in sympathy.  I saw a few guys make a break for it, and I ran up behind them, hoping they would take the brunt of the charge, as I waved my hands wildly in front of me.  My strategy worked, and I only got shocked once or twice at the very end.  I gave a shout of delight, clambered my way past the last few tractor tires and crossed the finish!  A man then came to me with an orange headband, placed it on my head, and I became a TOUGH MUDDER.

I then shuffled through the finish-line logistical maze, getting a t-shirt, some protein bars, and of course, the free beer that was prominently advertised along the course.  I would like to have lingered around the finish line for awhile and see others finish the course, but I was more interested in getting some warm, dry clothes on (along with everyone else), so I got my bag and changed.  I had just enough time to snag a couple of souvenirs before everyone with my group was ready to hit the road.

All in all, it was a highly miserable, but highly fantastic experience.  The cold, windy weather made everyone suffer, but it was a blast to run the course.  Two days later, I am still bruised and sore, but am proud to have earned the title of TOUGH MUDDER!

You're Going to Get Me in Trouble, Tom!

For more or less my entire life, I have been something of a numismatist...or coin collector, to the uninitiated.  I'm not sure if you're trained or wired to be one, but you'll know it when it happens.  I'll blame my dad, since he [the tooth fairy] left Kennedy half-dollars under my pillow when I was losing all of my baby teeth.  Those big, impressive-looking 50-cent pieces got me hooked.  All the other kids at school had never seen such a sweet coin before!

My interest in currency never ceased, and in my travels over the years, I've seen lots of neat-looking money.  One mysterious bill has, despite all the world's challengers, remained my favorite among paper money...the two-dollar bill.  Nobody uses them in day-to-day life, but they inexplicably remain in circulation.  Some people don't even think it's real money!  I count myself among the proud few who support Thomas Jefferson's paper-currency spectacle, and it is my fervent hope that it continues to be circulated for the duration of the Union...right there with the half-dollar piece!

In any case, I like to keep a couple Toms (as they're lovingly referred to in the Where's George online community) tucked in my wallet to start up a conversation about how sweet two-dollar bills are, or (if I'm feeling sassy) buy something and watch the cashier squirm while they:

A.  Try to figure out if it's actually money.

B.  Try to figure out where to put it in the cash drawer.

C.  Call their manager for assistance.

If I'm in a hurry, I'll just use the debit card.

I did this once at BD's Mongolian Grill.  There was a tip jar set out for all the cooks slaving away at the grill, so I tossed a Tom into the jar and waited to see if anyone would notice.  To my sheer delight, I saw the cooks dividing the bounty a few minutes later, so I watched intently as they found the two-dollar bill in their jar.  Upon seeing the Tom, they all began scratching their heads, passing it around and debating and shrugging their shoulders.  After a few minutes, one brave cook took the bill and pocketed it.  I'd be curious to know what he ended up doing with it...

Of course, there are also some hidden connotations wrapped around the two-dollar bill which can also make for interesting conversation.  As I understand it, Toms are commonly used for horse-race betting (the standard bet is $2) and if you're lucky at the track, you'll have a nice wad of Toms to take with you to the bar/gentlemen's club for some evening entertainment.  There are probably some other shady uses for Toms, but I'm not sure I want to know given I carry them regularly.  Anyway, I've had a couple of incidents involving two-dollar bills that confirm there is indeed a dark side to Tom.

The first one involved me and a bank teller.  I was at the bank making a large cash withdrawal...of $2 bills.  This really makes the teller work for their paycheck, since they usually have to spend 5 minutes rummaging around looking for that one strap of Toms they keep around for weirdos like me.  Anyway, after getting my big wad of bills, the teller's departing comment to me was not "Have a good afternoon" or "Enjoy the weekend", but rather "HAVE FUN".  I'm pretty sure she thought I was going to engage in copious amounts of debauchery, given my receipt of $200ish in Toms.

The other one happened to me just today, and inspired this blog entry.  I was at the gas station making a purchase and had my wallet out at the register.  The cashier immediately spotted a Tom sticking out of my wallet and said something to the effect of "Did you go to the strip club last night?".  Or maybe he was asking if I was going tonight.  I don't quite remember.  In any case, I told him that I just keep them in my wallet for fun, and not for purchasing dances at the nearest gentlemen's club...and I think it broke his heart just a little.  Poor guy.

Anyway, that's why I love Tom.  But someday, he's going to get me into trouble...

A Few Random Observations

As many of you know, I am the proud father of triplets.  This is both a blessing and a curse, as you can imagine.  Here are a few random thoughts I've found myself having recently, which are more or less a result of my progeny...

1.  I desperately need to renew my Sam's Club membership.  Now that the kiddos are potty trained, we are going through a TON of toilet paper!  It seems like I have to buy a 30-roll MEGA pack once a week.  Actually, I should probably conduct a study and determine my monthly toilet paper expense...it will probably be so much that I need to consider it a separate "bill" in my household budget.  *sigh*

2.  I desperately need to renew my Sam's Club membership.  My kiddos eat SO MUCH FOOD.  A loaf of bread might last two meals.  A pound of bacon?  ONE MEAL.  They LOVE bacon.  Actually, I'm thinking I might need to purchase shares of farm animals instead.  The kids would LOVE it, until they realized the sad truth that we eat farm animals.  Their stuffed animals that they sleep with are a cow, a pig, and a sheep, so I know this would be difficult on them...

3.  Pedal-less bikes WORK.  Last weekend I was kiddo-wrangling solo, so I took them on a nice long walk / bike training session.  For their birthday, I got them a Strider Bike.  Imagine a small bike with no training wheels, drivetrain or brakes.  Just paddle your feet on the ground Flinstones-style and go!  It's supposed to teach the critical skills of bike-riding first (balance and steering) so that you can skip the training wheels entirely when your kids are big enough for a "big-kid's bike".  Anyway, one of my boys ROCKED the bike-training!  I'm fully convinced he has learned how to control his lateral balance, and will have no problems handling a regular bike when the time comes...  The other two kiddos will take a bit longer, but I'm confident it'll work for them too.

As an added bonus, I also got to go back to the doctor's office just a few days after going in for the infamous CAT BITE.  Apparently, I am having an Ear Infection Revival.  In honor of my early childhood (which I have no memory of...another story yet to be told on my blog), my ear canals decided to both get infected, which renders me borderline deaf, and can also make my head feel like it's going to explode.  Anyway, my normal doctor couldn't see me when I needed to go in, so another doctor had to provide the diagnosis.  I was a little disappointed, though, because she didn't even mention my cat-induced wound (it was in my chart!).  I was FOR SURE the ear infections were a rare symptom of Cat Scratch Fever.  In any case, I got yet another prescription for antibiotics, so I'm pretty much going to be bacteria-free for the remainder of my natural life.  I couldn't even tell you how many days I've been taking the stuff!  On the plus side, I did actually have a diagnosable condition, so I at least felt justified in this week's trip to the doctor.  It's much more satisfying to pay those medical bills when you know you actually needed the help!

Anyway, I'm sure I'll have more interesting things to tell you soon...stay tuned!

I Didn't Become Catman, Sadly

Recently, some neighbors of ours were going out of town for a few days, and my dear wife Katie agreed that we would go over and take care of their two cats while they were gone.  Really, though, this means that I would be going over to take care of the cats, since one of them kind of scared her the last time we did this.  No big deal...I just go over, refill the food and water, and endure a little litter box action if needed.

The first day of cat-sitting went more or less without incident.  However, I did find that one of the cats had gotten himself locked in the bathroom for some significant length of time, considering he had pooped on the bath mat and [sensibly] peed in the shower at least once.  I'm estimating he was in there 20 hours.  Anyway, it didn't seem to make much sense to get a load of laundry going, so I instead cranked up the shower as hot as it would go, and I threw the bath mat in with a BIG dose of body wash.  That's probably the first ever poop-stained body-washed bath mat in the history of the world!

If I consider the first day of cat-sitting more or less without incident, day two was completely uneventful.  It's hardly even worth mentioning I went to see the cats on this day.

At the opposite end of the spectrum is day three.  I took my daughter Penelope (age 4) with me to check on the kitties, and in true girly girl fashion, she wore a tiara and took her pink parasol for our stroll down the street.  It was raining out, so the umbrella was functional as well as fashionable.  Anyway, we arrived at the house and were greeted by the kitty duo.  The non-incarcerated one was pretty nice to us, but our isolation-torture-survivor was all hissy with me and made it obvious he didn't want to see us.  Ignoring the cat, I went to the kitchen to find a Fancy Feast, since that seemed to make him happy earlier in the weekend.  After locating his treat, I bent over to grab the treat dish off of the floor and HE BIT ME!  Right on the forearm!  It was a solid bid too, with two fangs punching significant holes in my flesh.  So I started bleeding and yelled at the cat "YOU KNOW WHAT?  YOU'RE NOT GETTING THAT TREAT NOW!  BAD CAT!".  He didn't seem saddened by that one bit, however, since he kept on hissing and spitting at me.

At this point, Penelope started to cry since she was getting scared, so I picked her up with my good arm, and brandished her pink parasol at the cat with my bloody arm as I backed out the front door.  Once we were safe, we went on back home and I washed the tar out of my arm, since cats lick their butts.  After washing my wounds, I carefully applied some bacon-themed bandages to begin the healing process.  And those cats didn't get any more treats the rest of the weekend.

A couple of days later, I was back at work talking about my adventure with some of my friends, and they noted that my arm was looking a little infected. I hadn't really payed attention to it before, but it was definitely rash-like and red in the area surrounding the fang-scars...so I set up an appointment for the next day (nothing was available that afternoon).

The next day arrived, however, and my arm was looking much much better.  Hardly any redness or tenderness around the scars.  *sigh*  Do I cancel my appointment, or do I stay the course and go on in?  I waffled a bit as I considered my health, and eventually decided to keep the appointment...just in case I had a sudden onset of Cat Scratch Fever.

I went to the doctor's office, knowing full well that this was going to be an unsatisfying visit, given that I was more or less in perfect health at this point.  It's always disappointing when you've been suffering some malady for days and days and then an hour before going in to see the doctor, you miraculously heal and the doctor just looks at you and sighs and writes you a prescription for placebos or chicken-noodle soup or something.  You really just want him to acknowledge that you were in fact suffering and that you aren't just some crazed hypochondriac looking to deplete your FSA.  So I got checked in by the nurse, and temperature/pulse/blood pressure all looked perfect.  I admitted to her that it was looking much better than just a day ago, and that I felt a bit silly coming in, and she tried to keep my spirits up, saying "Well, you can never be too cautious with Cat Scratch Fever...".

Anyway, the doctor came in, and he did his best to not make me feel like a fool for coming in...but he just couldn't do it.  His first words upon greeting me were something to the effect of "Well, it sounds like you've had a wild weekend!".  I'm pretty sure he was smirking when he said this.  Anyway, he did give my wounded arm a good looking-over, and even went ahead and prescribed an antibiotic and ordered a tetanus booster, since it had been forever since I've had one.  What killed me, though, was he decided it would be good to hand-draw a picture of my arm in my chart complete with fang-scars in the right location.  He wasn't the best sketch-artist, though, so my wounded arm looked decidedly cartoonish, and he went a little overboard with the amount of puncture wounds.  And this is now in my permanent medical records.  I'm going to be a respected elder in my community someday and a youngish whippersnapper MD is going to get a laugh out of it...  *sigh*

Now that I'm taking my antibiotic and back on my feet again, I'm feeling at peace with the incident.  Sure, that cat has now tasted man-flesh and will probably become an orc-cat and try to devour the neighborhood, but at least I'm moving on...

Mike

Come Dine with Me

I just downloaded the iPhone Blogger app, so now I can share my life with the world from just about anywhere! Doesn't that just put a smile on your face?!

Anyway, we just got back from a trip to our local Gattitown. Normally, I wouldn't care to indulge the children that much halfway through Saturday, but we had some birthday money left over for the kiddos, and our house is sufficiently populated with toys...so I think this was a win-win.

Anyway, I'm saddened to report that the kiddos are not ready for a career in Skeeball. Or Whack-an-Alien. We did, however get them to ride the carousel and we managed to find a couple of 4-year-old-friendly games. Really though, the true highlight of the trip was lunch. With a movie room and an endless supply of Mac-and-Cheese and pepperoni pizza, my family could weather any storm or the eventual zombie apocalypse. I guess I'd need some ammo, too...

All in all, a good experience. If the kiddos get anymore birthday money, I know where to go!

As a bonus for this post, here is a picture of my titanium spork collection. Next time we have company over, we're setting the table with these. Because we're just that awesome. Who else can set 8 place-settings with titanium sporks?