<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098</id><updated>2011-10-05T15:43:17.945-05:00</updated><category term='Parenthood'/><category term='Clinical'/><category term='Commentary'/><category term='Life'/><category term='TV'/><category term='Training Program'/><category term='Nursing School'/><category term='Estrogen Ocean'/><category term='Chiropractic School'/><category term='Photography'/><category term='Weigh-In'/><category term='TINTINTS'/><category term='Recipes'/><category term='Movies'/><category term='Beer'/><category term='Stuff'/><category term='Evolve QOTD'/><title type='text'>The Fourth Strike</title><subtitle type='html'>Oh *f&amp;amp;$k you*! I&amp;#39;m not the rope-totin&amp;#39; Charlie Bronson wannabe that&amp;#39;s getting us f&amp;amp;$king lost!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>252</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5399566290140922947</id><published>2010-04-16T22:04:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T22:10:07.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving Day</title><content type='html'>I'm going to be moving my blog to a new site.  Something a little more universal.  Or maybe I'm finally starting to let go of the bitterness of my chiro experience.  Whatever, who knows.  The new site is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://nursexy.blogspot.com"&gt;http://nurseXY.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come check it out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5399566290140922947?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5399566290140922947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2010/04/moving-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5399566290140922947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5399566290140922947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2010/04/moving-day.html' title='Moving Day'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-6173922291112751656</id><published>2010-03-05T10:50:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T11:03:13.815-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Externships</title><content type='html'>It's been awhile since I've posted.  One of the biggest reasons is that I've started an externship in a brand new local hospital, in the ICU.  Very exciting really; it pays really well, and most likely will lead to a job when it's all said and done.  If I manage not to fark it up that is.  And as surprising as it is to say, getting a desirable job has suddenly become more of a challenge than any of my classmates had realized.  Stupid economy.  Regardless, I've positioned myself to get a really great job on a really great unit, that will give me the critical care experience required for CRNA school application.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The externship has been a fantastic thing--it's unbelievable how much I've learned in the few short months I've worked there.  After my first weekend of work, I realized I'd learned more than in all my clinical experiences through school.  One of the biggest things I learned is that I really DO have a passion for pediatrics, and it matters much more than I previously thought.  Adult ICU is very interesting, and I'm very thankful for my learning experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, what's got me really excited right now is a possible summer externship program at a local children's hospital.  There are two nationally known children's hospitals in the metro area where I live, and my wife works at one, so I have to seek employment at the other.  I sought some help from my pediatrics instructor as to what to include in my application, and what not to, and she volunteered to write me a letter of recommendation.  She gave me a copy a couple days letter, and it included some of the nicest things anybody has ever said about me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm super excited, driving my wife nuts talking about the what if's, and I've only just sent my application in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-6173922291112751656?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/6173922291112751656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2010/03/externships.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6173922291112751656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6173922291112751656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2010/03/externships.html' title='Externships'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2824683731551943973</id><published>2010-02-22T11:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T11:09:17.478-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><title type='text'>RIP Bo, 12/2/2000--2/22/2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S5E6d_2pFhI/AAAAAAAAAZA/j1z0a7AMNPM/s1600-h/21041_502825903626_292500010_23309_4455858_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S5E6d_2pFhI/AAAAAAAAAZA/j1z0a7AMNPM/s400/21041_502825903626_292500010_23309_4455858_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445197711498876434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never has there been a sweeter, more obedient, or more loyal dog. Bo, you made our family your own, and you will forever be a part of ours. Godspeed my friend, may the breeze in your nose be warm and full of lively scents. We love you Bo-dog. 12/2/2000--2/22/2010 RIP.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2824683731551943973?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2824683731551943973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2010/03/rip-bo-1222000-2222010.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2824683731551943973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2824683731551943973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2010/03/rip-bo-1222000-2222010.html' title='RIP Bo, 12/2/2000--2/22/2010'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S5E6d_2pFhI/AAAAAAAAAZA/j1z0a7AMNPM/s72-c/21041_502825903626_292500010_23309_4455858_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2356035531745687855</id><published>2009-12-10T21:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T23:36:56.531-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Officially a Senior</title><content type='html'>Well the semester is over.  It was long.  It was eventful.  I am grateful to be done with it.  Grades are good, I escaped with a 3.8.  As long as I graduate Cum Laude, that's all I care about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son is 1 today.  A year ago seems like an eternity and but a breath at the same time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm alive, and I am getting well.  Better than I have been for months.  I hope all is well for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2356035531745687855?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2356035531745687855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/12/officially-senior.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2356035531745687855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2356035531745687855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/12/officially-senior.html' title='Officially a Senior'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5278082786572892201</id><published>2009-08-14T18:25:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T20:25:01.478-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Excerpt</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;I've been working on a young adult novel for a while now.  I thought I'd post an excerpt.  Let me know what you think.  If you're an evil-no-good-copy-paste-copyright infringer, please leave my work alone, it's mine.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sprawled across his bed, with his arms folded behind his head, Jake stared up at the tin tiles set into the ceiling of his new room.  They were part of the “old world” character his mother so loved about the new apartment.  The way the light from the windows played across the ceiling made the inset designs in the tiles look like an army of alien spacecraft he decided.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a sigh he sat up and looked around the room.  It wasn’t very big, but it would work.  Certainly not like his room in Texas.  But it was on the 4th floor, and through the arched windows he could see some of the taller buildings of the famous Manhattan skyline to the south above the buildings across the street.  His room was level with the tops of the trees that lined their street.  The realtor had said it was a quiet street, and maybe it was by New York standards.  They may as well be in the middle of a bus station though, when compared to the silence of the wide corn fields that had unfurled themselves in the view from the windows of his room in Texas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No use thinking about that now though.  Getting lost in memories certainly wasn’t going to make his current situation any better.  Besides, he grudgingly admitted to himself, his new room was pretty cool.  He got up and crossed the room to the stack of moving boxes that held his entire life.  4 large cardboard boxes.  That’s all it took to encompass his life.  What did that say about him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He tried to split the packing tape with his thumbnail.  There wasn’t enough nail left to cut into the tape.  He inspected each of his fingernails.  All of them were bitten down to the quick, a couple bloody.  He really needed to stop doing that, he decided.  His mom hated the habit, and as long as he could remember she had constantly been on his case to stop until…  Well, until.  Now that he thought about it, she had hardly griped at him about anything since the funeral.  Kind of nice he supposed, but whatever.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the task at hand, his eyes roved around the room, looking for something to split the tape.  Scissors would be great, but they were of course taped up in one of the boxes with his other school stuff.  He tried the stiff end of a shoelace, but that didn’t even dent the tape.  Strongest stuff on Earth he mused.  His eyes fell on his closet door.  Maybe the previous owner had left a wire clothes hanger—that should do the trick.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twisting the knob, he tried to pull it open.  It didn’t budge.  The old iron doorknob turned freely, but the door was stuck solidly in place.  He took a better grip on the knob with both hands and pulled much harder.  There—it was moving, inch by bit.  He realized half a second too late that the door wasn’t moving—the knob was.  He fell backward, landing hard on his backside, doorknob in hand.  There was hole left in the door where the knob had previously resided.  Not ready to concede defeat, Jake hooked his fingers inside the hole and pulled, hard.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The door shifted ever so slightly before he let go, fingers burning where the sharp wood edges had dug in.  To wipe away the pain, he rubbed his hands briskly together.  He repositioned his fingers, and this time braced his foot against the wall.  Using the muscles in his back and legs, he pulled with all his might.  The door sprang open, and he was treated to another quick trip to the floor on his backside, this time smacking the back of his head on the post of the footboard of the bed.  Pain crashed into his brain—he saw stars and there was a roaring in his ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake closed his eyes--wow that smarted.  After a minute, the roaring in his ears started subside, and as the sounds of the city crept back in, he became aware of another noise.  A dish clattered in the kitchen—probably his mom unpacking the dishes or something.  He sat bolt upright.  His mom had gone into the office for the morning, waking him to say goodbye.  She wouldn’t be back for several hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Less than 24 hours of city life, and their house already being broken into—he knew it was going to be like this!  He jumped to his feet, scooping up his Louisville slugger on his way to the stairs, silently thanking the heavens above it hadn’t fit into any of his cardboard boxes.  He took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, adrenaline surging.  By the time he made it to the landing, his brain started to catch up.  What if there was more than one?  He paused.  What if they had a gun?  Another clatter from the kitchen mobilized him, but he moved cautiously now.  One stair at a time, bat held up at the ready.  The third stair from the bottom creaked badly when he stepped on it.  He froze, holding his breath.  The noise from the kitchen stopped for a moment, but soon started again.  It sounded exactly like an armadillo rooting through a trash can on their back porch in Texas.  Somehow he didn’t think there was an armadillo hanging out in New York City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jake became aware of another sensation—there was a wonderful scent emanating from the kitchen.  It smelled exactly like sugar cookies baking.  Just like on cookie nights when he and Mom and Dad would bake cookies to celebrate.  Any time someone had good news, or a holiday, or even a really bad day—they’d roll the dough out on the counter, and cut it into perfect circles with the tops of coffee mugs.  But it wasn’t just about the cookies.  Anything could be said over the mixing bowl; any topic addressed while the cookies turned golden in the oven.  He missed those happy nights.  And the cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Snap out of it!” he whispered to himself.  “A vicious intruder in the house, and you’re day dreaming about cookies!”  He crept down the last two steps as quietly as he could, but he needn’t bother.  The noises in the kitchen had grown to a series of small bangs and clatters.  At the edge of the door frame Jake took several quick deep breaths.  He spun around the corner, baseball bat raised over his head, and a kamikaze yell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5278082786572892201?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5278082786572892201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/08/excerpt.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5278082786572892201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5278082786572892201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/08/excerpt.html' title='Excerpt'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7028191414671452592</id><published>2009-08-08T12:20:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T12:56:12.268-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>Cinema de Vino</title><content type='html'>I've always been fascinated by the art of wine-making--enology--and I can't imagine a more beautiful place in the world to work than in the Californian wine country.  I've wanted to grow my own vines for quite some time, and even considered tilling up half of our back yard to put them in.  Alas, we don't plan to be in this house but a few more years.  So impatiently I wait, alternatively surfing viticulture websites and Sonoma, CA real estate listings.  In the meantime a good movie about wine making will have to do, and I've found a couple for you to find and watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sn20bhaUjVI/AAAAAAAAAYA/kQPVQgHHXxM/s1600-h/bottle-shock-0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sn20bhaUjVI/AAAAAAAAAYA/kQPVQgHHXxM/s200/bottle-shock-0.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367644715813735762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bottle Shock is based (somewhat loosely I'll bet) on a true story.  Set in 1976, Napa Valley, and California wines in general, have yet to come of age.  Chateau Montelena winery in Napa Valley is run by a father-son duo that couldn't be any further diatmetrically opposed.  Dad (played predictably by Bill Pullman) is a perfectionist to fault.  Son (played fantastically by Chris Pine) is a stoned surfer dude.  In fact their most effective communication occurs in a makeshift boxing ring.  Meanwhile in France, a bored wine shop owner (played by the talented Alan Rickman) is searching for a way to drive sales and attendance to his self proclaimed wine academy.  The solution?  A blind taste test by the finest French wine critics of the finest French wines and the lowly Californian offerings.  Clearly the event is designed to embarrass the Americans and further cement the superiority of French wine-making.  Rickman travels to California to pick his victims, and when he encounters the Chateau Montelena crew the movie takes off from there.  And, as they say, the rest is history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie was quirky and fun, at times nebulous, but never in a bad way.  The story is classic David v. Goliath, and boy did I root for our boys.  The movie of course fairly glitters with stunning California wine country scenery, which would make it worth viewing alone.  This isn't a film for kids, but adults will enjoy it immensely, as I did.  I have the movie a B+.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sn20QZnDUwI/AAAAAAAAAX4/zeSWNQXtymE/s1600-h/A_Good_Year+-+Poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sn20QZnDUwI/AAAAAAAAAX4/zeSWNQXtymE/s200/A_Good_Year+-+Poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367644524741088002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I haven't finished A Good Year yet--my copy from Netflix was badly scuffed and kept freezing.  I got about halfway through the movie last night before I just couldn't stand the skipping anymore.  My new copy will be here Monday, so I'll finish the film out then.  I feel I've seen enough though, to write somewhat of a review.  The film follows Max Skinner (played by Russel Crowe) a hotshot London investor.  When an uncle dies and Max is presumably left an estate in the South of France complete with a winery and vines, Max travels to renovate the place for a quick sale, and quick profit.  Once he arrives he is overtaken by his memories of his uncle, and of growing up there at the winery.   What follows is not unpredictable as he encounters the long forgotten wine country lifestyle bent on living life in quality, not quantity.  Add in a love interest or two, and I'm betting I know how this ends not having seen the rest of the film yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far I've actually been a tad disappointed with the film.  It's felt rushed and twitchy, but perhaps that's intentional.  As the man's transformation from hectic to laid back continues, perhaps it will smooth out.  Right now, I give the film a C+.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7028191414671452592?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7028191414671452592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/08/cinema-de-vino.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7028191414671452592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7028191414671452592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/08/cinema-de-vino.html' title='Cinema de Vino'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sn20bhaUjVI/AAAAAAAAAYA/kQPVQgHHXxM/s72-c/bottle-shock-0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5549612615363828652</id><published>2009-08-04T13:34:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T18:15:13.213-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>The Bully</title><content type='html'>It may have been nearly 20 years ago, but I can still remember the way the afternoon breeze would sweep through the open windows, carrying school bus yellow sunshine and diesel smoke inside.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was always at least a 30 minute wait after the bell rang while the buses completed their first run, and returned to pick us up for their second run.  Being one of the rural kids that lived outside of town meant we were picked up an hour before school started and dropped off more than hour after school ended.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trick was to wait around the side of one of the brick pillars of the breezeway that connected the gym to the main campus.  The bus lane bordered the breezeway, and it was always a game of chance which pillar to pick, wagering on which bus would return first, and how far up the lane your bus would pull.  We always mobbed the bus, pushing and jostling against the after school duty teacher standing like a warden to keep us away until it came to a complete stop.  The teachers and coaches all rotated weeks of staying late to patrol our shift.  We were an interesting group.  There were the farm kids like me, a little socially awkward due to growing up in the stillness and solitude of a farm.  And then there were the kids from the trailer park on the edges of the city limits.  Mostly Hispanic or Navajo, with an occasional token white trash kid thrown in for good measure--they were the rough kids.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rough kids were the reason it was important to be aware of which teacher was on duty after school.  Some weeks I breathed easier because it was someone like Mrs. Boognl, the algebra and geometry teacher.  Red haired, 6 feet tall and mean, she could cause all algebraic equations to flee from your mind with nothing but a casual glare.  I withered in my chair in her class when she called on me, but I basked in the protection she provided when it was her week on the bus duty beat.  Other weeks someone like Coach Mascarenas would be in charge.  During the 4 weeks of PE that we played flag football, Coach was known for removing his glasses to clean them.  The rule was absolutely no tackling allowed.  However, he'd say with a smirk, what he didn't see, he couldn't punish us for.  And he couldn't see when he was cleaning his glasses.  His glasses were often dirty after school too, and I'd constantly be on my guard those weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rough kids were the reason it was important to be near the front of the line to board the bus.  They sat in the back of the bus, and the really awkward kids sat in the front to suck up to the driver.  The best strategy I found was to be among the first few on board, so I could select my own seat somewhere between the front and the back.  Then I could hunker down as everyone else found their seats around me.  Most days I could simply blend into the green vinyl and the rough kids would rattle their way past without paying me any mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose in the grand scheme of the world, the bullying I experienced really wasn't terrible comparatively.  I was never beat up.  The physical attacks rarely went beyond slaps to the back of the head or slugs to the arm.  The mental attacks were constant though.  Incessant teasing, continual degradation, threats, belittling remarks were the course of the day.  Every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I invited much of it I'm sure.  I was above average intelligence.  Not in a get-all-your-work-done, slather-on-the-good-citizenship, and ride-the-honor-roll way.  I was way too lazy for that crap.  In fact I was merely average when it came to rote operation activities.  Times tables I hated.  Learning Spanish was a nightmare.  My aptitudes were much more instinctive.  I just knew things.  I always assumed that it was because I was a voracious reader that I accumulated knowledge, and truth be told, I'm sure it didn't hurt.  But even today, sometimes I just know things without distinctly remembering when and where I learned them.  Regardless, I was at the very least an easy target because it bothered me so much to be teased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fighting was strictly prohibited by my parents.  I knew it down to the very core of me.  So much so that when I was once attacked, unprovoked, on the playground by a boy saddled with an emotionally unstable label, I just stood there, doing nothing.  I didn't fight back for fear of getting in trouble for fighting.  After it was over, I still got in trouble.  My parents couldn't fathom that I'd been pulled into the principal's office for anything other than something of which I was surely guilty.  There was no chance to plead my case, only the sentencing hearing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so this particular afternoon, like usual, I worked hard to play all my cards correctly.  I managed to avoid any confrontations during the eternal 30 minute wait after school.  I managed to get on the bus near the front of the line, and sat in my usual seat midway back.  There in the early spring warmth, I sat.  Just in front of the wheel well, on the right side of the aisle, while the afternoon sun streamed in from the left side of the bus.  My only mistake was that perhaps I sat in the middle of the seat instead of huddling against the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rough crowd was boarding the bus now, with Manuel leading the way.  Manuel was Hispanic, and taller than me.  A junior high top dog 9th grader, he was already reaping the benefits of puberty, filling in muscle, scraggly black hair on his upper lip, and the body odor to go with it.  He wasn't terribly popular as far as the in-crowd was concerned, but he was included simply based on his terror factor.  He wasn't just brilliantly intelligent, and I always thought he looked a little cross-eyed like the inbred cats on our farm.  As he was coming down the aisle we locked eyes.  I quickly looked away, but not before he noticed my existence.  As he drew close to my seat, he paused and reared back with a fist as if to hit me.  I of course, ducked quickly to the side to avoid being hit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sneered at my reaction, and his cronies behind him laughed.  Then he joined in with his raspy cough of a laugh.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I snapped.  It was too much.  The injustice of a thousand different affronts roared in my ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I burst to my feet.  My hand clenched itself into a fist, and the farm-hardened muscles in shoulder and arm coiled to strike.  My eyes sought his and gripped the lapels of his return gaze, breathing harsh, acrid anger into his face.  He stumbled backward in surprise, nearly falling as he tripped over someone's feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was in that moment I saw it.  In his eyes lapped another emotion, filling in like an incoming high tide around the scattered stones of surprise.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A tense moment ticked by, and he realized I had seen it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lowered my fist, and a smile twitched just at the corners of my mouth.  He recovered his footing and reared back as before, acting as if he were going to hit me.  I didn't duck this time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead I calmly sat down, and slid to the window completely ignoring him.  I think not really knowing what to do, he went and sat at the back of the bus like usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish the incident stopped the bullying, but it didn't.  That would have been too poetic I suppose.  It did change things though.  While he never touched me again, or threatened to hit me, he redoubled his mental warfare for the rest of that year.  It wasn't until we moved to the high school that his class schedule took him to different parts of the campus.  He was old enough to drive at the beginning of the 10th grade, so he no longer rode the bus with us rural kids.  I didn't turn 16 until June after 10th grade, so I got another whole year of riding the bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that square, small instant on that 9th grade afternoon though, the entire universe reordered, and quantum reality peeked its auspicious face into the aisle of that bus.  I stood up for myself and rendered the bully harmless for an afternoon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5549612615363828652?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5549612615363828652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/08/bully.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5549612615363828652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5549612615363828652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/08/bully.html' title='The Bully'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-8008758065291717239</id><published>2009-07-30T10:38:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T10:50:46.490-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Evony</title><content type='html'>A couple weeks ago, one of my favorite authors sent me an email with a link to &lt;a href="http://evony.com"&gt;Evony&lt;/a&gt;, a online multiplayer game.  It looked interesting so I signed up an started playing.  It was pretty fun, and very easy to get into.  But also very time consuming.  In fact I found myself near the computer 18 hrs a day keeping up with what was going in the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, last night the "alliance" I was part of descended into sheer drama, and I realized it wasn't fun anymore.  So I quit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pulled the plug an a great deal of hard work, and a few people that I was having fun getting to know.  But now I have hours more free time, and a gads less drama in my life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good choice I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  The local newspaper ran a headline this morning that read "Storms Wallop D/FW" which strikes me as particularly red-neckish.  Damn, I need to get out of this state.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-8008758065291717239?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/8008758065291717239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/evony.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8008758065291717239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8008758065291717239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/evony.html' title='Evony'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-279842175191612285</id><published>2009-07-20T11:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T12:11:21.463-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy Monday Morning</title><content type='html'>It's been threatening to rain off and on for most of the weekend, and it did storm a time or two.  But this morning, we've gotten a couple healthy bands of showers, with a couple more on the way.  It's 74* out, a good 8* cooler than it was this morning when I got up before the rain.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To celebrate I've done nothing but sit on the couch watching Dora and Diego with the kids.  We only have small group here this evening, and the entire house needs to be cleaned.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two of my wife's younger sisters were here this weekend.  They had planned on coming to watch the kids while my wife was at work and I was out of town to visit my sister in Santa Fe.  I didn't get to go on my trip to Santa Fe, but they came anyway, allowing me a Saturday to myself.  That was nice.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now our kitchen is bare. Seriously, it looks like a pack of ravenous animals came through.  There is hardly anything edible left--although what is left is all organic and healthy.  The cupboards are even empty of dishes.  They're all dirty.  So I have my work cut out for me to get the house shaped up for company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's still raining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-279842175191612285?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/279842175191612285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/rain-monday-morning.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/279842175191612285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/279842175191612285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/rain-monday-morning.html' title='Rainy Monday Morning'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3938920393273051669</id><published>2009-07-17T16:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T17:46:22.843-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>Movies</title><content type='html'>In the last 36 hours I've watched 4 movies thanks to Netflix, and Netflix Watch Instantly.  Each of the following movies is worth a review in a post of its own.  They were all excellent.  But since I'm in ultimate lazy mode, and wallowing in self pity, brief synopsi will have to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SmDw5krtt8I/AAAAAAAAAXw/w0L7TXECHio/s1600-h/i_capture_the_castle_verdvd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SmDw5krtt8I/AAAAAAAAAXw/w0L7TXECHio/s200/i_capture_the_castle_verdvd.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359548428461127618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I Capture the Castle is a sweet movie set in the 1930s.  It centers around a the family of a celebrated author who unfortunately hasn't written anything publishable in over 12 years.  Quirkiness and hilarity abound, all awash in the gorgeous backdrop of an old English estate, and beautiful period costuming and props.  Girls come of age, boys become men, a man and his daughter find their literary voices.  Wonderfully written, wonderfully acted.  Worth your hour and fifty minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SmDw5YKxRbI/AAAAAAAAAXo/LgwofBws13E/s1600-h/suburban-girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 142px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SmDw5YKxRbI/AAAAAAAAAXo/LgwofBws13E/s200/suburban-girl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359548425101723058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was afraid this movie was going to suck, put bluntly.  But I sat down and watched it anyway, based simply on the fact that the story is about a book editor.  I was pleasantly surprised.  I'm not a big Sarah Michelle Gellar fan, nor Alec Baldwin, but they were happily tolerable.  This has all the makings of a formula romantic comedy, and I suppose it plays out that way.  But there is no sugar-sweet ending as life crashes in.  This cotton candy flick had more reality than many dramedies hitting the screen today.  Worth a cozy evening at home, with or without your significant other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SmDw432SREI/AAAAAAAAAXg/IrQi64gJgrg/s1600-h/cashback_movie_poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SmDw432SREI/AAAAAAAAAXg/IrQi64gJgrg/s200/cashback_movie_poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359548416425870402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This movie is billed as a comedy, and I suppose there were some funny parts.  However, there is some real depth cleverly written into the script, and the story is quirky and fresh.  Mind you, as the cover might allude to, there are copious boobies in this movie.  Most were probably superfluous, but at the same time, I don't think they hindered the film either.  I suppose it will come down to your comfort level with the human body because you will get an eyeful.  Just don't forget to pay attention to script, you may just find something worth mulling over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SmDw4o4DaPI/AAAAAAAAAXY/OjiRHwuxy4U/s1600-h/the-wrestler1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SmDw4o4DaPI/AAAAAAAAAXY/OjiRHwuxy4U/s200/the-wrestler1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359548412406753522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I watched this film on a friend's recommendation.  I never would have stuck it in my Netflix queue, based simply on the storyline and the trailer.  Never was a WWF fan, never will be.  And the first 20 minutes of the film played like a bad WWF match to me, sometimes quite literally.  But once the movie finds its rhythm the story starts sucking you in.  The movie turns out to be profoundly sad--I sat in the dark for a good 20 minutes after the credits rolled.  If you aren't compelled to examine the direction of your life and relationships after this film, maybe you better just stick to watching TNT Impact or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3938920393273051669?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3938920393273051669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/movies.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3938920393273051669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3938920393273051669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/movies.html' title='Movies'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SmDw5krtt8I/AAAAAAAAAXw/w0L7TXECHio/s72-c/i_capture_the_castle_verdvd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7483690052230780730</id><published>2009-07-17T09:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T09:59:55.835-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Stay-cation</title><content type='html'>When things seemed to work out for the better if I didn't try and find a job for the summer until classes start up again in August, I was excited.  I didn't view the summer as time off, but rather as an opportunity to dive deeply into something I've been wanting to do for several years now--write a novel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, I would have all this extra time, and I was sure the words would just roll onto the page for me.  I have what I think is a great story, and after a few afternoons spent at Barnes &amp; Noble, I had a pretty airtight outline by chapter laid out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then life happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seemed that there was always something else I needed to be doing.  On the weekends when my wife was at work and I was on daddy-duty, I tried writing after the kids were in bed.  But the kids kept going to bed later and later, and I was too exhausted by the time the house was quiet to even think about being creative.  I tried going to bed when the kids went down, and getting up an hour earlier to write.  The first time I set my alarm to do so, the kids were up three times in the night, and I finally got to bed about 45 minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off.  Se la vi.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But during the week, when my wife was off work, I was supposed to be spending time writing.  But there were breakfasts, and lunches, and dinners to prepare.  And things around the house to be fixed.  And it really was much easier for my wife if I was here at naptime, and bedtime.  I mean, I would appreciate the help on my nights, why wouldn't she?  Then we went out of town for a week, and had to clean the house several times for company.  Watched some friend's kids, and then...   Well, you get the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good writers find a way around these obstacles with a variety of tricks.  Finding time to write is a part of learning to be a good writer.  Good writers write.  On a regular basis.  Great writers?  It's a part of their life, like say, breathing.  Or changing diapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my summer quickly circling the drain, I planned for an all out offensive writing campaign.  I planned a super low cost trip to visit my sister in Santa Fe.  A week away from home.  Seven glorious days to sit in coffee shops and just write.  I planned meals--complete with cooking instructions for my wife.  I got 10 days of groceries so she and the kids would be provided for.  I arranged childcare for the weekend while my wife was at work.  I arranged transportation for my oldest daughter to church for her New Christians class.  I did everything I could possible do to make sure the trip would come off without a hitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I didn't get to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Money was too tight.  It wasn't fair that I got a week away by myself and my wife didn't.  It was going to be too much to ask my wife to single-handedly take care of all three kids by herself for a week.  What ever the reason, I chose not to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was probably the right decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife promised that I'd be able to write like I wanted, but here instead.  Tuesday and Wednesday I spent most of the day at Barnes &amp; Noble writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Tuesday I wasn't in the groove.  Words just wouldn't flow--every line was a tooth and nail battle.  Wednesday was a much better day.  Yesterday morning I got to go also, and made some revisions to my storyline.  But then I had to be home to make sure my wife was able to nap during naptime since she was going back to work last night.  But no worries, it was only until the babysitter for the weekend showed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except that she never did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's coming on Saturday morning, but was too tired to come yesterday.  She's got a softball game that she wants to watch tonight.  So Saturday it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew that's what was going to happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for my Stay-cation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7483690052230780730?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7483690052230780730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/stay-cation.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7483690052230780730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7483690052230780730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/stay-cation.html' title='Stay-cation'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-553554544011307082</id><published>2009-07-06T17:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T17:46:29.835-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>First</title><content type='html'>1. Who was your FIRST prom date? Didn't go my junior year, my girlfriend LeAnna was my date to senior prom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Do you still talk to your FIRST love?  Not really sure who I'd call my first love.  I guess my wife has been the only one I've been sure about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink? Fuzzy Navel Bartles &amp; James wine cooler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. What was your FIRST job? Aside from growing up on a farm?  Delivery driver for high end restaurants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What was your FIRST car? VW Bug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Who was the FIRST person to text you today? Jared&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning? My wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Who was your FIRST grade teacher? Mrs. Beecher.  She went to our church.  So did every single one of my teachers until I got into 7th grade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane? Albuquerque to Oklahoma to visit a college I didn't really want to go to, but vowed to to follow my high school girlfriend LeAnna.  She dumped me about a month later, a few days before we left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Who was your FIRST best friend &amp; do you still talk? My first best friend was a girl named Jessica that lived down the street from us in San Diego.  I was 4.  We've lost contact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Where was your FIRST sleep over? At a friend Travis.  He had Playboys stashed in his backyard.  And sand in his bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Who was the first person you talked to today? My wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time? My own FIRST wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning? Well, it was a good morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. What was the FIRST concert you ever went to? Petra at the McGee Park County Fairgrounds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. FIRST tattoo? Volleyball with flames around it on my upper back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. FIRST piercing? None.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. FIRST foreign country you went to? Mexico&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. FIRST movie you remember seeing? ET or Star Trek II Wrath of Kahn, can't remember which.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. When was your FIRST detention? Never detention, got in lots of trouble though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Who was your FIRST roommate? A guy who called himself Stoner.  And promptly got arrested and thrown out of school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. If you had one wish, what would it be? More wishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. What is something you would learn if you had the chance? To play the bagpipes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Did you marry the FIRST person to ask for your hand in marriage? No, but I did marry the FIRST girl I asked.  Stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. What was the first sport that you were involved in? Track.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. What were the first lessons you ever took? I never took any outside of school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. What is the first thing you do when you get home? Let the dog out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-553554544011307082?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/553554544011307082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/first.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/553554544011307082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/553554544011307082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/first.html' title='First'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2942042036685712072</id><published>2009-07-05T19:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T19:48:36.137-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><title type='text'>Huh?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SlFJ36K3FWI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/FmF7WikSwFI/s1600-h/IMG_2979.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SlFJ36K3FWI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/FmF7WikSwFI/s400/IMG_2979.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355142656776672610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2942042036685712072?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2942042036685712072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/huh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2942042036685712072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2942042036685712072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/huh.html' title='Huh?'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SlFJ36K3FWI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/FmF7WikSwFI/s72-c/IMG_2979.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2788336176876320293</id><published>2009-07-02T17:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T17:11:21.747-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sk0wZ_9zVnI/AAAAAAAAAXI/GDnt21TsKUA/s1600-h/IMG_2947.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sk0wZ_9zVnI/AAAAAAAAAXI/GDnt21TsKUA/s400/IMG_2947.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353988755238901362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sister crashes brother's photo shoot in her pajamas...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2788336176876320293?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2788336176876320293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/sister-crashes-brothers-photo-shoot-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2788336176876320293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2788336176876320293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/sister-crashes-brothers-photo-shoot-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sk0wZ_9zVnI/AAAAAAAAAXI/GDnt21TsKUA/s72-c/IMG_2947.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1075289341556901634</id><published>2009-07-02T10:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T10:33:59.434-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>6 months</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkzTTl750xI/AAAAAAAAAXA/6hpTYL6VmHA/s1600-h/IMG_2925bw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkzTTl750xI/AAAAAAAAAXA/6hpTYL6VmHA/s400/IMG_2925bw.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353886390591017746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1075289341556901634?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1075289341556901634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/6-months.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1075289341556901634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1075289341556901634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/07/6-months.html' title='6 months'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkzTTl750xI/AAAAAAAAAXA/6hpTYL6VmHA/s72-c/IMG_2925bw.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5487514415810935902</id><published>2009-06-30T14:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T14:51:19.090-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>Three</title><content type='html'>THREE NAMES I GO BY&lt;br /&gt;1. Robert&lt;br /&gt;2. Bobby&lt;br /&gt;3. Daddy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE JOBS I HAVE HAD IN MY LIFE&lt;br /&gt;1. Forest Service Fire Fighter&lt;br /&gt;2. Waiting tables.&lt;br /&gt;3. Pharmacy Tech&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE PLACES I HAVE LIVED&lt;br /&gt;1. San Diego, CA&lt;br /&gt;2. Farmington, NM&lt;br /&gt;3. Arlington, TX&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE TV SHOWS THAT I WATCH&lt;br /&gt;1. The Philanthropist&lt;br /&gt;2. Royal Pains&lt;br /&gt;3. Burn Notice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE PLACES I HAVE BEEN&lt;br /&gt;1. San Francisco&lt;br /&gt;2. New York City&lt;br /&gt;3. Vancouver BC&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE PLACES I WANT TO GO&lt;br /&gt;1. Scotland&lt;br /&gt;2. Austria&lt;br /&gt;3. Japan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE OF MY FAVORITE FOODS &lt;br /&gt;1. Scallops&lt;br /&gt;2. Venison&lt;br /&gt;3. Field greens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THINGS I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO&lt;br /&gt;1. Camping trip&lt;br /&gt;2. Graduation&lt;br /&gt;3. Moving from Texas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE PETS THAT YOU HAVE OWNED&lt;br /&gt;1. Dusty the cat.&lt;br /&gt;2. Bo the dog.&lt;br /&gt;3. Goldie the cat. (RIP)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE FAVORITE BANDS/SINGERS &lt;br /&gt;1. Coldplay&lt;br /&gt;2. U2&lt;br /&gt;3. Augustana&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH&lt;br /&gt;1. Volleyball&lt;br /&gt;2. Football&lt;br /&gt;3. Tennis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE FAVORITE DRINKS&lt;br /&gt;Alcoholic:&lt;br /&gt;1. Single malt scotch whiskey&lt;br /&gt;2. Microbrewed beer&lt;br /&gt;3. Wine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Non-alcoholic:&lt;br /&gt;1. water&lt;br /&gt;2. Starbucks Green Tea Frappe&lt;br /&gt;3. water&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE ACTIVITIES YOU ENJOY DOING&lt;br /&gt;1. Photography&lt;br /&gt;2. Shooting&lt;br /&gt;3. Writing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THREE ATTRIBUTES MOST IMPORTANT TO YOU IN A FRIEND&lt;br /&gt;1. Loyalty&lt;br /&gt;2. Kindness&lt;br /&gt;3. Sense of humor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOST IMPORTANT THINGS IN LIFE&lt;br /&gt;1. Family&lt;br /&gt;2. Peace&lt;br /&gt;3. Love&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5487514415810935902?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5487514415810935902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/three.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5487514415810935902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5487514415810935902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/three.html' title='Three'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5335844036928393231</id><published>2009-06-30T12:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T12:43:10.444-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Faux Pox</title><content type='html'>So it turns out the chicken pox were actually ant bites.  From the ants that were infesting her bed...for a week...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5335844036928393231?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5335844036928393231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/faux-spots.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5335844036928393231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5335844036928393231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/faux-spots.html' title='Faux Pox'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1907463414076285099</id><published>2009-06-29T22:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T22:22:23.274-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><title type='text'>Waterfall</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkmE16NkZRI/AAAAAAAAAW4/s9C6U4OtUOk/s1600-h/IMG_2895.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkmE16NkZRI/AAAAAAAAAW4/s9C6U4OtUOk/s400/IMG_2895.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352955693800645906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In La Plata Canyon, CO.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1907463414076285099?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1907463414076285099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/waterfall.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1907463414076285099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1907463414076285099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/waterfall.html' title='Waterfall'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkmE16NkZRI/AAAAAAAAAW4/s9C6U4OtUOk/s72-c/IMG_2895.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-218717387724667417</id><published>2009-06-28T12:44:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T13:47:57.198-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Shicken Spotty</title><content type='html'>My younger daughter is terribly reactive to bug bites--she gets huge whelps that take a couple of days to go down from mosquito bites--so we weren't surprised when she came in from outside with a couple red spots around her eyes last week.  A couple hours later when they had blossomed across her face, shoulders, and back, we knew that something else was up.  When the spots came to a head, it was pretty much confirmed:  She has the chicken pox.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a fairly light case I think.  She hasn't slowed down at all--no fever, no malaise, and honestly very little itching.  A little calamine lotion and she's been fine.  It's a beautiful thing to watch an unaltered immune system working just like it should.  We've laid low from most of our group activities this week to minimize the spread of this dreaded varicella virus, and just as much to keep from answering quite so many questions about vaccinations.  At this point I'm happy to educate anybody who truly wants to understand our decision not to vaccinate, but at the same time I'm done with all the drama that seems to be inherent with the ensuing conversation.  I've been asked a couple of times if she had the varicella vaccine, and I've simply replied, "No."  When pressed for more, "Because we chose not to.", and done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the 2 y/o's aunts is a stablehand at a horse barn, and ever since the 2 y/o found out, we've been incessantly hounded to "Go see the horses?"  Yesterday the boy nursed really well in the morning, so the wife planned to sleep through the rest of the day before she got up to go to work, meaning we were relatively mobile.  After hearing the horse request for the hundredth time in an hour, I finally just packed them into the car for the 95 mile drive to grandma's house.  It was more than a visit to see the horses--there were cousins in town and a birthday cake to be eaten.  It turned out to be a good visit, even braving the in-laws solo with the kiddos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Ske6YC8iSxI/AAAAAAAAAWw/G0P4wtnwF5w/s1600-h/5146_502593344676_292500010_16196_2832648_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Ske6YC8iSxI/AAAAAAAAAWw/G0P4wtnwF5w/s200/5146_502593344676_292500010_16196_2832648_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352451604423527186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The visit to the horse barn was the stuff from which memories are made.  The 2 y/o was in heaven.  She helped brush and curry the horses, fed them sugar cube treats out of her own hand; she even got to sit up on the back of a horse to finish grooming the mane.  But she didn't quit there.  She helped Aunty Em feed every one of the horses, lugging the heavy feed scoop down to each stall and emptying them into the feed buckets.  Then she helped haul hay flakes, and finished up by helping push the broom to clean up.  She worked hard and focused for about 90 minutes and she had a great time.  As soon as she hit her carseat for the drive home she sacked out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, totally forgot my camera to get any pictures of this.  No worries though, she woke up this morning asking to "Go see the horses?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-218717387724667417?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/218717387724667417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/shicken-spotty.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/218717387724667417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/218717387724667417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/shicken-spotty.html' title='Shicken Spotty'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Ske6YC8iSxI/AAAAAAAAAWw/G0P4wtnwF5w/s72-c/5146_502593344676_292500010_16196_2832648_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7196223691391447574</id><published>2009-06-26T11:13:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T11:28:25.369-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>1888 Premium Olive Press</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkT2DKs40KI/AAAAAAAAAWo/3F5C4dLTfRs/s1600-h/4967_88767638505_88765708505_2067847_6341187_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkT2DKs40KI/AAAAAAAAAWo/3F5C4dLTfRs/s200/4967_88767638505_88765708505_2067847_6341187_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351672791495659682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Do you like martinis?  Do you like them just a little bit dirty?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If so, friends of mine have just started production on a mixer that may turn your head.  1888 Premium Olive Press is 100% pressed olives, and as far as we know, the only one on the market.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This stuff is great, and just a little bit dirty... ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.1888olivepress.com/"&gt;Check out their site!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7196223691391447574?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7196223691391447574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/1800-premium-olive-press.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7196223691391447574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7196223691391447574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/1800-premium-olive-press.html' title='1888 Premium Olive Press'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkT2DKs40KI/AAAAAAAAAWo/3F5C4dLTfRs/s72-c/4967_88767638505_88765708505_2067847_6341187_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2263213528244346176</id><published>2009-06-25T21:32:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T21:53:14.200-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TV'/><title type='text'>The Philanthropist</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkQz1UkK_HI/AAAAAAAAAWA/EPdAZ3YwlVc/s1600-h/james-purefoy-picture-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 154px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkQz1UkK_HI/AAAAAAAAAWA/EPdAZ3YwlVc/s200/james-purefoy-picture-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351459248369499250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So, I happened to be watching America's Got Talent the other evening, and by chance the show called The Philanthropist was coming on next.  I vaguely remember seeing a trailer or two for the show, but the truth is I rarely watch network TV anymore, what with the satellite.  I set the DVR just to check it out and wow, am I glad I did.  This show was the best TV I've watched in very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure what it was about the story, but something struck a chord with me.  And I have a feeling there are many more out there thinking the same things.  As we marinate in the muck of our greed and excess putrefying around us in this economic reality, I find it hard to believe that there aren't some of us who resonate with the idea that maybe we all could do just a little more to help each other out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be sure, Teddy Rist (James Purefoy) has his own demons to battle--he is damaged goods.  But that doesn't change the fact that he is a narcissistic billionaire with little regard for the world beyond what he can see with his own eyes.  He IS corporate greed.  And when a small shred of humanity in him begins to awaken, coaxed awake into a flickering flame while being tossed about and windswept in an African natural disaster, the effect is startling.  I found myself cheering for him.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe in some small way I seek to salve my own soul in his character's growth.  I'm not sure if that's right, or even justifiable, (this is after all a lowly network television show), but his soul searching turns my eyes inward.  And to me, that can only be a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesse L. Martin, Neve Campbell, and Lindy Booth all play their supporting roles well.  But James Purefoy plays his character very well.  This show was a pleasure to watch, and I can hardly wait until next Wednesday to watch the next episode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should check it out...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2263213528244346176?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2263213528244346176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/philanthropist.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2263213528244346176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2263213528244346176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/philanthropist.html' title='The Philanthropist'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkQz1UkK_HI/AAAAAAAAAWA/EPdAZ3YwlVc/s72-c/james-purefoy-picture-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-4076293581104414686</id><published>2009-06-22T19:45:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T20:15:43.819-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TV'/><title type='text'>HawthoRNe</title><content type='html'>**Spoiler Alert**  This post reveals information about the first episode of HawethoRNe, please don't read it if you've yet to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having been out of town last week, I set the DVR to record this new medical-drama on TNT, told from the nurses point of view.  My wife and I finally got to sit down and watch the pilot last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the most part the show was enjoyable.  Jada Pinkett-Smith is a talented actress, and the supporting cast is equally up to the task.  The story lines felt a little forced at times, but maybe the writing will settle in instead of trying to flex all its muscles at once trying to impress viewers enough to come back for episode 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were the inevitable medical TV show flub-ups--several of them just in this episode alone.  For example, when CNO Christina Hawthorne jumped in to save the day and inserted an IV on a newborn, she put the catheter in backwards--completely counter flow!  And the "large vessel" she found in the baby's scalp to catheterize, well she used a butterfly...  That same poor baby was on an adult gurney--good thing they put the side rails up to transport--with holes big enough for the baby to completely slide out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or how about the patient that went from a blood glucose level of 225 to a diabetic coma within minutes of receiving a grand total of 6 units of insulin...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my biggest gripe with the show had to with the sole male nurse character.  It's unfortunate the show's writers saw fit to portray Ray (played by David Julian Hirsh) as a medical school reject.  The reason Ray didn't get into medical school?  He tanked on his MCAT.  I really hate the message this sends about nurses--Ray wasn't smart enough to be a doctor, so he became a nurse.  Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The really annoying thing about it is that the story line called for Ray to be smart enough to recognize a doctor had a made a mistake.  Clearly we need for Ray to be ALMOST smart enough to get into medical school to make such a leap, right?  Wrong.  The story line wouldn't have suffered at all if Ray had just been, say, an intelligent nurse (like hundreds of thousands of nurses in practice today), in fact it would only served to empower nurses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the characters were over the top, but not unpleasantly so.  The newbie nurse who has a colossally bad "first" day was a bit funny.  The character of Dr. Marshall was waaaay over the top.  I only hope a doctor never speaks to me in the manner she did...that will be quite a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, I give the show an A for effort.  I'll be back to watch episode 2.  It was perfect, and it wasn't the best show I've ever watched, but it worked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-4076293581104414686?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/4076293581104414686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/hawthorne-spoiler-alert.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4076293581104414686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4076293581104414686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/hawthorne-spoiler-alert.html' title='HawthoRNe'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1254418388668819515</id><published>2009-06-22T17:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T17:20:39.530-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><title type='text'>Portrait Self</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkADrEbcGNI/AAAAAAAAAV4/CSnb0wGjebE/s1600-h/Rfenton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkADrEbcGNI/AAAAAAAAAV4/CSnb0wGjebE/s400/Rfenton.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350280395774236882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1254418388668819515?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1254418388668819515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/portrait-self.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1254418388668819515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1254418388668819515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/portrait-self.html' title='Portrait Self'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SkADrEbcGNI/AAAAAAAAAV4/CSnb0wGjebE/s72-c/Rfenton.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-6421987915341859348</id><published>2009-06-22T13:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T14:00:37.695-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>Yes or No</title><content type='html'>Kissed any one of your Facebook friends? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Been arrested? No&lt;br /&gt;Kissed someone you didn't like? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Slept in until 5 PM? No&lt;br /&gt;Fallen asleep at work/school? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Held a snake? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Ran a red light? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Been suspended from school? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Experienced love at first sight? No&lt;br /&gt;Totaled your car in an accident? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Been fired from a job? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Fired somebody? No&lt;br /&gt;Sang karaoke? No&lt;br /&gt;Pointed a gun at someone? No&lt;br /&gt;Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Kissed in the rain? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Had a close brush with death of your own? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Seen someone die? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Played spin-the-bottle? No&lt;br /&gt;Sang in the shower? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Smoked a cigar? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Sat on a rooftop? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Smuggled something into another country? No&lt;br /&gt;Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Broken a bone? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Skipped school? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Eaten a bug? No&lt;br /&gt;Sleepwalked? No&lt;br /&gt;Walked a moonlit beach? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Rode a motorcycle? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Dumped someone? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Forgotten your anniversary? No&lt;br /&gt;Lied to avoid a ticket? No&lt;br /&gt;Ridden on a helicopter? No&lt;br /&gt;Shaved your head? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Blacked out from drinking? No&lt;br /&gt;Played a prank on someone? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Hit a home run? No&lt;br /&gt;Felt like killing someone? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Cross-dressed? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Been falling-down drunk? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Eaten snake? No&lt;br /&gt;Marched/Protested? No&lt;br /&gt;Had Mexican jumping beans for pets? No&lt;br /&gt;Puked on amusement ride? No&lt;br /&gt;Seriously &amp; intentionally boycotted something? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Been in a band? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Knitted? No&lt;br /&gt;Been on TV? No&lt;br /&gt;Skinny-dipped? No&lt;br /&gt;Eaten a whole habanero pepper? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Ridden a surfboard? No&lt;br /&gt;Drank straight from a liquor bottle? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Had surgery? No&lt;br /&gt;Had stitches? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Streaked? No&lt;br /&gt;Taken by ambulance to hospital? No&lt;br /&gt;Passed out when not drinking? No&lt;br /&gt;Peed outside? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Donated Blood? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Grabbed electric fence? No&lt;br /&gt;Eaten alligator meat? No&lt;br /&gt;Eaten cheesecake? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Eaten kids' Halloween candy? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Killed an animal when not hunting? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Peed your pants in public? No&lt;br /&gt;Snuck into a movie without paying? No&lt;br /&gt;Written graffiti? No&lt;br /&gt;Still love someone you shouldn't? No&lt;br /&gt;Think about the future? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Been in handcuffs? No&lt;br /&gt;Believe in love? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Ever been in another country? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Ever ridden a horse? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Believe in God? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Have kids or plan to have kids? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Been on a plane? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Seen the ocean? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Win an award? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Hang up on someone? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Snowboarded? No&lt;br /&gt;Played on a sports team? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever cheated on an exam? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever called a significant other by the wrong name? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever laughed until you cried? Yes&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever received a love letter? Yes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-6421987915341859348?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/6421987915341859348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/yes-or-no.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6421987915341859348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6421987915341859348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/yes-or-no.html' title='Yes or No'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-380605572784694580</id><published>2009-06-20T17:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T17:23:09.642-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><title type='text'>Strawberry Patch</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sj1hBVxWHcI/AAAAAAAAAVw/QYXvGvjWjl8/s1600-h/IMG_2796BW.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sj1hBVxWHcI/AAAAAAAAAVw/QYXvGvjWjl8/s400/IMG_2796BW.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349538608037895618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-380605572784694580?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/380605572784694580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/strawberry-patch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/380605572784694580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/380605572784694580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/strawberry-patch.html' title='Strawberry Patch'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sj1hBVxWHcI/AAAAAAAAAVw/QYXvGvjWjl8/s72-c/IMG_2796BW.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3664566230740109843</id><published>2009-06-03T08:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T08:03:14.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SiZ0jt79lwI/AAAAAAAAAVo/iqg6p9Xkx_k/s1600-h/IMG_2750.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SiZ0jt79lwI/AAAAAAAAAVo/iqg6p9Xkx_k/s400/IMG_2750.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343086164897011458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3664566230740109843?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3664566230740109843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3664566230740109843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3664566230740109843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SiZ0jt79lwI/AAAAAAAAAVo/iqg6p9Xkx_k/s72-c/IMG_2750.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1939411831525340802</id><published>2009-05-31T17:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T17:02:02.565-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SiL-VlIvcuI/AAAAAAAAAVg/6XI1rA5nfEg/s1600-h/IMG_2737.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SiL-VlIvcuI/AAAAAAAAAVg/6XI1rA5nfEg/s400/IMG_2737.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342111754714313442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1939411831525340802?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1939411831525340802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1939411831525340802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1939411831525340802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SiL-VlIvcuI/AAAAAAAAAVg/6XI1rA5nfEg/s72-c/IMG_2737.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-4760918491539746222</id><published>2009-05-27T10:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T10:44:55.980-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>Jon Schmidt, Musician &amp; Father</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="255" width="420"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0v3d6SFcDys&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0v3d6SFcDys&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="420" height="255"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This video gave me goosebumps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://jonschmidt.com" target="_blank"&gt;Jon Schmidt's Website&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-4760918491539746222?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/4760918491539746222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/jon-schmidt-musician-father.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4760918491539746222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4760918491539746222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/jon-schmidt-musician-father.html' title='Jon Schmidt, Musician &amp; Father'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-6932142338800102643</id><published>2009-05-13T18:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T18:48:17.350-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Feud</title><content type='html'>LETS PLAY FAMILY FEUD!!! YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO USE MY ANSWERS!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;Copy and paste, erase my answers and fill in your answers. Remember, you can't use the same answer as the person you stole it from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Name something you use in the shower?&lt;br /&gt;Shampoo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Name a product for men?&lt;br /&gt;Old Spice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Name something people hate to find on their windshield?&lt;br /&gt;Bird Poop&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Name something a man might buy before a date?&lt;br /&gt;Deoderant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What is another word for blemish?&lt;br /&gt;Flaw&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Something you cook in the microwave?&lt;br /&gt;Water&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Name a piece of furniture people need help moving?&lt;br /&gt;Couch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Name a reason a younger man might like an older woman?&lt;br /&gt;She's his mom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Name something a dog does that embarrasses its owner?&lt;br /&gt;Poops in someone's yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Name a kind of test you cannot study for?&lt;br /&gt;Drug test&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Name something a boy scout gets a badge for?&lt;br /&gt;Old Lady Street Crossing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Name a phrase with the word home in it?&lt;br /&gt;Are you too good for your home!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Name a sport where players lose teeth?&lt;br /&gt;Hockey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Name something a teacher can do to ruin a student's day?&lt;br /&gt;Pop quiz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. What is a way you can tell someone has been crying?&lt;br /&gt;Runny nose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Name a bird you wouldn't want to eat?&lt;br /&gt;Crow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Name something someone would wear with a hole in it?&lt;br /&gt;Sock&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Name something that gets smaller the more you use it?&lt;br /&gt;Ice cube&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-6932142338800102643?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/6932142338800102643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/family-feud.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6932142338800102643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6932142338800102643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/family-feud.html' title='Family Feud'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5508306168950212240</id><published>2009-05-10T22:42:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T23:00:23.578-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Boobed</title><content type='html'>I was studying for finals this afternoon at my &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Third_Place"&gt;Third Place&lt;/a&gt; when I decided to take a dinner break.  As I was backing out of my parking space, another car entered the same row I was parked on.  Apparently I was in the way or not moving quickly enough, because the driver began honking at me.  When space allowed the car pulled up next me and I was soon getting the proverbial "what for".  A few seconds of that, I just rolled my eyes at the very large and angry black woman behind the wheel and started to be on my way.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's when it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evidently my eye-rolling touched a nerve, because when I looked back over, the very large and angry black woman had pulled her very large and angry boobs out of her shirt and flopped them bare nippled out of her open window at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frankly I wasn't quite sure how to take that, but it would seem she was satisfied with my reaction because she hauled them back in and sped away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still in shock, I texted my wife, "I just got flashed by a large and angry black woman."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replied, "??? Flashed with what?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Her BOOBS!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**long pause**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where &lt;em&gt;are&lt;/em&gt; you?!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5508306168950212240?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5508306168950212240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/boobed.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5508306168950212240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5508306168950212240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/boobed.html' title='Boobed'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1238533012720910016</id><published>2009-05-10T09:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T09:09:44.023-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>HESI</title><content type='html'>We took the HESI last week, and I just looked at my scoresheet a little while ago.  We were told to expect to do much worse than we were used to being a standardized exam and that we were only first semester nursing students.  Well, I've done the whole standardized exam thing--a couple of times--so I wasn't stressing.  I did nothing to study for it, although many of my classmates spent hours on NCLEX books.  It is worth 15% of our course grade and part of our mandatory minimum 70% to move on program.  They told us a 750 was minimum passing, 850 was expected and 900 was a score we could expect to pass the NCLEX with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a 55 question test, I missed 2, and scored a 1435.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll take it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1238533012720910016?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1238533012720910016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/hesi.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1238533012720910016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1238533012720910016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/hesi.html' title='HESI'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3282072623953349589</id><published>2009-05-09T14:31:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T14:41:50.293-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>ER</title><content type='html'>Thursday was my day to go to the ER for an "off unit experience".  It was pretty cool.  It always helps when the nurse I'm assigned to actually welcomes my presence.  She was very good at her job, and I had a good experience.  Our initial patient of the day--right at shift change--had had tonsil surgery the day before as an outpatient procedure.  They had bled from their tonsils and throat all night before reporting to the ER (at a completely different hospital from the one where they had the surgery no less.)  Patient was in obvious respiratory distress and had sats in the low 60s.  O2 through a nasal cannula brought that up to the 70s, but it took a venti mask to make it into the 90s.  ER doc couldn't find an ENT doc willing to come behind another surgeon so the patient got transferred back to the original hospital--with much gnashing of teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that patient, the nurse just handed me the clipboard and sent me in to assess the patients that came in.  After I did my interview and assessment I'd report back and she'd help me see what things I did well, and what additional things I might have done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a wide variety of patients.  I saw an 18 y/o drug overdose/wrist slashing suicide attempt.  I saw a 9 y/o with an asthma flare-up.  I saw a patient with a bowling ball size abdominal tumor--CT showed mets in the liver too.  I saw (and helped suture) a full skin/subcutaneous thickness and partial muscle thickness circular saw lac to the forearm.  So, no major gunshot traumas or MVC's, and thankfully no chest pain patients, but I think that was probably a good thing.  I got to actually participate much more because patients weren't terribly acute.  ER might be a fun PRN job on the side at some point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3282072623953349589?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3282072623953349589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/er.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3282072623953349589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3282072623953349589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/er.html' title='ER'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-920575387989302309</id><published>2009-05-01T09:34:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T14:42:12.157-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commentary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Checking In</title><content type='html'>Small update from this side of the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last few weeks have been full for me.  School is in the end of semester frenzy and I've taken multiple tests and practicals.  Most weeks I don't have a day off between school and full time daddy duty.  Tests have gone well, and I've come to the conclusion that slow and steady wins the race.  As does working hard early in the semester and putting yourself in a position to just cruise.  Clinical has been interesting.  I did my OR rotation and loved it--I may even consider being a First Assist if I decide not to go to CRNA school.  My ICU rotation was equally cool, confirming to me that I can at least make it through the 2 years required for application to CRNA school.  I like ICU MUCH better than the floor.  My brain just doesn't divide itself 5 or 6 ways as easily as it does 1 or 2.  Granted the patients are much higher acuity, but I'm totally cool with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The patients have been interesting.  I've had a pt with necrotizing fasciitis who has had all the skin, fascia, and subcutaneous fat removed from their leg, ankle to groin.  Did a dressing change on that patient where the surgeon tried to make me ill on purpose.  Lucky for me I was just able to smirk right back at him even through the anaerobic funk.  I've had a 51 yr/old who lives in a nursing home who came in with pneumonia.  I was the one who got to tell the patient their lung cancer was no longer in remission and was in fact back with a vengeance.  I had a patient who claimed to be a nurse who came in for chest/jaw pain for 10 days duration, but knew exactly what pain medication worked best for this kind of pain.  Not surprisingly it was morphine.  The same patient yelled at me multiple times telling me I had no common sense at one point.  I finally snapped back and exposed the inconsistencies in the patient's story, effectively shutting the them up and sending my preceptor nurse into hysterical laughter.  Next week is my final day at clinical for the semester and I get to go play with swine flu patients in the ER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly though, over the last several weeks I've come to two realizations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.)  Time with my kids is a gift and I should approach my weekend daddy duty with that attitude instead of the attitude I have been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.)  I am deeply, desperately in love with my wife.  This is why when things aren't going well between us it turns me into a decimated shell of a man.  That fact doesn't mean that everything is daisies.  But, I don't get to choose whether I love her or not, so better to suck it up and make things work.  Again, an attitude thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I hope a few of you check here occasionally still.  I miss interacting with you all on a regular basis.  I do get to read your blogs sometimes, but not much commenting.  I hope this finds you all well and happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-920575387989302309?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/920575387989302309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/checking-in.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/920575387989302309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/920575387989302309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/05/checking-in.html' title='Checking In'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-6223057561353095726</id><published>2009-03-29T08:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T08:03:00.609-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sc6VyU_St7I/AAAAAAAAAUo/5yZHYysYC_c/s1600-h/IMG_2650.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sc6VyU_St7I/AAAAAAAAAUo/5yZHYysYC_c/s400/IMG_2650.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318352901831309234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-6223057561353095726?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/6223057561353095726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post_29.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6223057561353095726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6223057561353095726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post_29.html' title=''/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sc6VyU_St7I/AAAAAAAAAUo/5yZHYysYC_c/s72-c/IMG_2650.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2695613190004646883</id><published>2009-03-28T16:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T16:09:40.622-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sc6SArdTXII/AAAAAAAAAUg/oMmS1mwI8Uk/s1600-h/IMG_2664.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sc6SArdTXII/AAAAAAAAAUg/oMmS1mwI8Uk/s400/IMG_2664.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318348750334418050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2695613190004646883?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2695613190004646883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2695613190004646883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2695613190004646883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/Sc6SArdTXII/AAAAAAAAAUg/oMmS1mwI8Uk/s72-c/IMG_2664.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-8376150406779022634</id><published>2009-03-23T19:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T19:30:23.032-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Hernial Hiatus</title><content type='html'>I may or may not be taking a hiatus for a little while.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to concentrate on some things in my life right now, and putting the pieces back together may take all available time and energy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until we meet again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-8376150406779022634?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/8376150406779022634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/hernial-hiatus.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8376150406779022634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8376150406779022634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/hernial-hiatus.html' title='Hernial Hiatus'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3853013488736880780</id><published>2009-03-19T21:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T21:23:21.275-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Normal</title><content type='html'>Completely normal bloodwork.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this is normal, I don't ever want to be ill.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3853013488736880780?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3853013488736880780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/normal.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3853013488736880780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3853013488736880780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/normal.html' title='Normal'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1480039879711192306</id><published>2009-03-18T21:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T22:49:59.492-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Spring Break...and I'm Exhausted</title><content type='html'>Not surprisingly after the Saturday night we had, the kids and I didn't make it to church in the morning.  Sunday evening had been set aside for cleaning out the garage so I could work on Herman, but that just didn't happen.  No matter, the parts I needed weren't here anyway.  Instead I thought it would be a great idea to invite 3 other couples over for a St. Patrick's Day party on Tuesday evening.  So I made a trip to the grocery store instead of doing anything productive around the house.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday was supposed to be a day of working around the house.  Mrs. Drofen got up with the kids and let me sleep in since she'd slept part of the day on Sunday and she wasn't able to sleep late.  As soon as I got up my FIL called to say that he and my wife's 17 y/o sister were headed to the dealership to buy her a new car.  I'm apparently the family car deal negotiator ever since I negotiated almost $12K off MSRP of his new Dodge truck a few years back.  I'd like to think it's because I'm cranky beyond my years, (Get off my lawn, ya damn kids!) but it's more likely because I was taken advantage of by a car salesman when I was young and stupid.  I swore that would never ever happen again.  And it hasn't.  Anyway, SIL went home with a brand new Civic $4500 under MSRP and 2.9% for 60 months.  Mission accomplished.  Caught the beginning of rush hour on the trip home from the dealership but still made it in time to go to small group for church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday morning dawned and it was time to pay the piper.  The lawns both desperately needed mowing because we got rain last week, and now it's 80* out, so hello spring.  I mowed the back yard at 1/2 notch above the lowest blade setting on the mower since it's the first mow of the season. It was a beating mowing it that short.  It took me an hour and a half and I was left with 8" snow drifts of cut grass.  Next I headed to Lowe's and bought a leaf rake to rake the cut grass into the compost pile.  When I got back I started raking, but about 10 minutes into that job I figured out it was going to bring the major suck.  I decided get out the leaf blower, and although it was like standing in a sand storm of cut grass I managed to blow the lawn clean of cut grass.  Then it was time to head out front.  Another  2 hours and I had the front mowed and blown clean.  Inside for a quick shower, and it was time to start cooking and help Mrs. Drofen clean the house.  We were still vacuuming about 10 minutes before our guests arrived, but the entire house did get cleaned pretty well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For our St. Patrick's Day dinner I prepared corned beef and cabbage, venison skewers, boiled red potatoes, and steamed carrots.  Our friends brought a salad, Irish soda muffins, and an Irish apple pie.  It was a really great meal.  And we had blast just hanging out and watching The Biggest Loser.  Yeah, we're old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my day started ok.  Until I moved out to the couch to give Mrs. and Baby Drofen the run of the bed for baby-breakfast in bed.  Somehow I moved just the wrong way and my upper back was instantly in spasms.  So today I started at the chiropractor's office, and then I got to go to the local doc in a box to get some blood work done.   I've got a &lt;a href="http://www.aafp.org/afp/981015ap/ferrer.html"&gt;supraclavicular lymph node that is about 30 times larger than normal&lt;/a&gt; and tender to palpation.  Yes, this is the second very scary symptom I've had in a week and half.  Lab work comes back tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon I went to the grocery store, rented lighting equipment for Baby Drofen's 3 month pictures, and tried to buy the girls a swing set but struck out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, I'm just exhausted.  Again.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope this fatigue isn't the third very scary symptom in a week and half.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1480039879711192306?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1480039879711192306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/spring-breakand-im-exhausted.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1480039879711192306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1480039879711192306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/spring-breakand-im-exhausted.html' title='Spring Break...and I&apos;m Exhausted'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2739037301028621832</id><published>2009-03-15T12:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T13:18:48.132-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Tag Teamed</title><content type='html'>Ugh.  Last night was killer.  It was Mrs. Drofen's 3rd in a row at work, and frankly I envied her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;1755--Mrs. Drofen leaves for work.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;1800--Baby Drofen goes down for evening nap.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;1810--2 y/o goes into the bathtub.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;1845--2 y/o climbs out of bathtub on her own to say she's ready to get out. (Oy.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;1920--Baby Drofen wakes up, hungry.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;1930--Baby Drofen eats 4oz bottle of Mommy Milk.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;2130--Baby Drofen is so beside himself cranky--no choice but to put him to bed, for the night hopefully.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;2150--2 y/o goes to bed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;2220--Baby Drofen, very restless--get him up because he really needs to eat again.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;2230--Baby Drofen eats another 4oz bottle of Mommy Milk.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;2300--Attempt #1 to put Baby Drofen back to bed.  Not happening.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;2330--Attempt #2 to put Baby Drofen back to bed.  Much rocking, back rubbing, cuddling.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;2350--Baby Drofen drifts to sleep.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;2355--Baby Drofen wakes up.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0030--Attempt #3 to put Baby Drofen back to bed.  Not happening.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0100--Attempt #4 to put Baby Drofen back to bed.  Much rocking, back rubbing, cuddling.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0130--Baby Drofen drifts to sleep.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0135--Take a shower.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0200--Fall asleep.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0355--2 y/o wakes up screaming--bad dream.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0400--Watch an episode of Miss Spider's Sunny Patch with 2 y/o.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0425--Attempt #1 to put 2 y/o back to bed.  Not happening.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0430--Watch an episode of Maggie and the Ferocious Beast.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0500--Attempt #2 to put 2 y/o back to bed.  Much book reading, back rubbing, and tear wiping.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0520--2 y/o drifts to sleep.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0521--Back to bed and precious sleep.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0545--Baby Drofen starts grumbling.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0600--Grumbling escalates to a level where possible it will wake 2 y/o asleep next door. Retrieve Baby Drofen.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0605--Call wife at work, irrationally blow up.  Wife says, "You're on speaker phone."  Hang up on wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0610--Baby Drofen eats 4oz bottle of Mommy Milk.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0630--Attempt #5 to put Baby Drofen back to bed.  Not happening.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0645--Spit bubble practice.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0700--Attempt #6 to put Baby Drofen back to bed.  Much rocking, back rubbing, cuddling.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;0730--Baby Drofen drifts to sleep as wife walks in door from work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2739037301028621832?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2739037301028621832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/tag-teamed.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2739037301028621832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2739037301028621832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/tag-teamed.html' title='Tag Teamed'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-62359214767481603</id><published>2009-03-15T06:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T13:18:37.790-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><title type='text'>The Rite of Parenthood #11</title><content type='html'>Even the successful parent has to wonder if 6:45 am is the best time for supervised spit bubble practice, instead of going back to sleep after demanding to be fed.  Even for a 3 month old baby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-62359214767481603?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/62359214767481603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/rite-of-parenthood-11.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/62359214767481603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/62359214767481603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/rite-of-parenthood-11.html' title='The Rite of Parenthood #11'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-109992155030916278</id><published>2009-03-14T18:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T18:53:28.107-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>Meme--50</title><content type='html'>I got TAGGED and now you're IT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? My first name is a family name extending back 5 or 6 generations.  My middle name is after my uncle who has passed on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? During 'Fireproof'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR OWN HANDWRITING? My handwriting has really deteriorated over the last few years.  My wife is convinced it's because I'm a doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Peanut butter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Yes, 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? I'd like to think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. DO YOU USE SARCASM? Yep, it's like a whole other language for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes.  Not missing any hardware, although that may change soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Probably, if they had bungee cord thick enough to hold my fat butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Kashi Autumn Wheat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? When I'm feeling responsible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Vanilla bean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. RED OR PINK? Red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? My weight, or my job situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? The happy fun person I used to be.  Bitterness sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO COMPLETE THIS LIST? If you have 5 minutes to waste, please do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?  I'm wearing blue J Crew chinos, and I'm barefoot at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? http://pandora.com "Element" by Moses Mayfield--great song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?  Olive green.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. FAVORITE SMELLS?  Yeasty beer, a well crafted scotch whiskey, rain on the breeze, honeysuckle on the night air, ozone from a close lightning strike, cedar burning in the fireplace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? The insurance adjustor coming to look at my wife's car post-Post Office fender bender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?  Volleyball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. HAIR COLOR? Graying by the minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. EYE COLOR? Hazel with fleks of red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. FAVORITE FOOD? Sushi, New Mexican cuisine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy endings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? Watched part of Bram Stoker's Dracula last night before I fell asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Blue with a gray stripe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. SUMMER OR WINTER? Winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. HUGS OR KISSES? Hugs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Hmmm, probably Christy, Kirsten, or Heather?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Probably Dana. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? Searching for a cheap copy of "Velvet Elvis" by Rob Bell.  Just finished "City of Thieves" by David Benioff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Cheesy beach and palm tree scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? A whole lot of Maggie and the Ferocious Beast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. FAVORITE SOUND(S)? My kids' laughter, a well tuned acapella group, a well played bagpipes, snow falling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Beatles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? NYC or Vancouver BC, not sure which is further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I have an amazing ability to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.  I also read non-verbal communication far better than most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. WHERE WERE U BORN? San Diego, CA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? Anyone who will take the time to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. WHERE DID YOU MEET YOUR SPOUSE? Microbiology class in undergrad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49. WHERE IS HOME?  Not sure, still looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU TELL YOUR YOUNGER SELF?  Be patient young man, and stop screwing around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-109992155030916278?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/109992155030916278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/meme-50.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/109992155030916278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/109992155030916278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/meme-50.html' title='Meme--50'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2958793661983033298</id><published>2009-03-13T14:20:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T14:37:35.639-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Drama Magnet</title><content type='html'>I'd advise all persons maintain a safe distance from me in the foreseeable future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I looked up my accident report on the local PD's website and it was still not available.  It was supposed to have been available 3 days after the accident occurred--it's been 5 days.  I called the PD and was transferred to the records clerk who informed me the report had been sent back to the officer on scene to make some corrections.  Now, I'm all for getting the accident report correct, but I still had not been given the insurance information of the other party.  The records clerk felt bad for me and read the insurance information to me over the phone.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was writing down this information while sitting in the the car at the local Post Office.  I was there picking up a certified letter the &lt;a href="http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2008/10/mailbox-wars.html"&gt;mail lady&lt;/a&gt; said she attempted to deliver but nobody was home--a total lie.  It was raining, she didn't want to get out of her vehicle.  Anyway, as I'm writing down the information from the records clerk, the asswipe in a Infiniti Q56 parked next to me backed out of his spot, and somehow managed to hit my wife's Xterra in the process.  There isn't a lot of damage, a small scrape, and maybe a small dent, but DAMN!  So I got HIS insurance information as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So once I got home I called the first insurance company regarding my truck and filed a claim.  Wouldn't you know it, it turns out that the insurance policy the minivan and driver was insured under has probably been canceled, and prior to accident.  The insurance company is trying to determine if there is coverage left or not.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2958793661983033298?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2958793661983033298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/drama-magnet.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2958793661983033298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2958793661983033298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/drama-magnet.html' title='Drama Magnet'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-4759381894938653781</id><published>2009-03-12T18:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T21:58:37.190-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Answered Prayers?</title><content type='html'>During clinical/lab this afternoon I got a phone call from my chiropractor, and don't think my heart wasn't about to come out of my chest when I saw his number.  Lucky for me the call came outside a patient room because I would have answered it if I'd been in the Oval office receiving the Medal of Honor, let alone in a patient room.  It's just better because now I don't have to explain myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the CT w/ contrast came back "largely unremarkable with no evidence of soft tissue trauma, mediastinal mass, or large vessel aneurysm."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The radiologist was dumbfounded, comparing my first chest X-ray and my second X-ray 24 hrs later that were identical, to the CT done 24 hrs after that.  She doesn't have an explanation as to why it resolved so quickly.  I don't have a logical explanation as to why either.  There is no logical explanation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not necessarily one to cling to the idea of miracles.  I do believe they happen, but I also know that it's probably not best to depend on them.  In my mind I keep ending up at the same logically illogical explanation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it is with great humbleness and eternal gratefulness that I thank those of you that prayed for intercession on my behalf.  Maybe that's what did it, maybe I'm just a freaky fast healer.  Regardless, I'm not man enough to deny that a miraculous healing has occurred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----||----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was our final day of the semester in our clinical labs.  The rest of our clinical days will be spent at our assigned hospital.  Frankly I'm relieved because it ends my interaction with the other clinical instructors.  I'm not sure how, but mostly by pure dumb luck, I managed to situate myself to be instructed by the best clinical instructor in all of Junior 1.  Since it was the last day, we filled out evaluation forms about our experience in lab--another answer to prayer I think.  I hate to admit it, but I took a small measure of joy in professionally (and ever so respectfully) expressing my dissatisfaction with two of the clinical instructors.  I was not the only one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was medication administration to 'standardized patients' (actors) and it was a completely draining experience.  Obviously the patients couldn't take the drugs, even if they were real.  It was so tough to figure out where the acting began and real life began.  On one hand they'd tell us information we needed to know for the scenario completely lucidly, but then turn around and try and trick us with their acting.  Really tough.  The woman faking Alzheimer's that threw her crushed medication mixed with chocolate pudding across the room, all over the bed, floor, and wall was taking it just a little too far.  I had to give her a SQ injection of heparin too--real needle into an injection pad she had positioned on her abdomen.  When she became combative and nearly made me stick myself, it truly pissed me off.  It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.  There is no valuable lesson to be learned there in my opinion.  But that's just me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----||----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As so as I got home from clinical lab, I immediately went to my other job--Mr. Mom.  I have the kids pretty much to myself from this evening until Sunday afternoon when my wife gets up.  My last time to myself was last Sunday evening following my car wreck which I spent frantically studying for my Foundations exam.  (Which I somehow managed to pull at 87 on, despite being completely in pain and only studying for 2 hours for.)  Oh well, that's what being a dad means, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-4759381894938653781?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/4759381894938653781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/answered-prayers.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4759381894938653781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4759381894938653781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/answered-prayers.html' title='Answered Prayers?'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1119945023371626632</id><published>2009-03-11T12:34:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T14:23:24.395-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Aftermath</title><content type='html'>Mrs. Drofen has her PALS recertification class today, so I've been all kids, all day, instead of using my day off to study like I normally do.  Thank goodness next week is Spring Break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday was an interesting day.  I went ahead and took my Foundations exam even though the events the night before kept me from being prepared as much as I'd have liked to have been.  I was also in quite a bit of pain and kept mis-copying answers to my scantron.  I hope my grade doesn't suffer too much, but I guess I'll find out later today.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that I had a group project for my Health Promotions class due.  We had to teach the general public about fitting exercise into a busy schedule, and why it's important to do so.  We set up a table in the on-campus activity center and started handing out free water bottles and conducting a raffle for free Six Flags tickets and Chipotle Bucks, in exchange for them listening to our spiel.  We gave away 4 flats of water, so 96 bottles, and had over a hundred entries in our raffle.  All in an hour and a half--I was hoarse by the time we were done.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, I headed to the chiro to get checked out.  He shot X-rays, gave me an exam, adjusted me, and did some PT modalities.  I felt a ton better afterward, and didn't need any pain relievers at all yesterday.  However, when I went back for my follow-up appointment yesterday afternoon, we put the X-rays up on the light box and we both immediately saw something concerning.  At about T-3ish, my trachea takes a sharp turn to left.  I'm by no means a radiologist, but the chiropractic education includes over 20 credit hours of radiology since we can write for and perform Xrays.  There is not a simple or benign reason for the trachea to deviate in the mediastinum.  The best case scenario is a contusion and hematoma from the wreck.  Other causes might be lymphoma, a thoracic aortic aneurysm, or even lung cancer.  Needless to say I was freaked out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my appointment and associated troubling news, I got to go take my first &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Objective_Structured_Clinical_Examination"&gt;OSCE &lt;/a&gt;of the semester for Assessment.  I was able to pull it together enough get through it, and scored a 99.17%.  The only thing I missed was stating 160* nail angle as related to digital clubbing from chronic hypoxia.  Doh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning the chiro hand carried my chest film to a radiologist he works with regularly, and she was concerned too.  Concerned enough to pull some strings and get me a same day CT w/ contrast.  So at 1620 I'll be lit up like a Christmas tree.  Let's hope there's no packages under that tree...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm doing ok I think.  I'm pretty scared at the moment.  I have a lot of things going for me, and a total lack of secondary symptoms to suggest a disease process.  But the diff dx's that come with a mediastinal mass aren't nice playmates.  I'd really like to just take my toys and go home, but I'm going to have to deal with this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd appreciate good thoughts and prayers.  :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1119945023371626632?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1119945023371626632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/aftermath.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1119945023371626632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1119945023371626632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/aftermath.html' title='Aftermath'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7110240397882494371</id><published>2009-03-08T22:39:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T07:59:05.877-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Study Break</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SbSS6CbciCI/AAAAAAAAAUY/LhYly03qZpw/s1600-h/Photo-0062.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SbSS6CbciCI/AAAAAAAAAUY/LhYly03qZpw/s200/Photo-0062.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311031386358712354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Was on my way up to a local bookstore to do some major studying for my Foundations exam tomorrow.  Unfortunately the jack-ass in a minivan that turned in front of me and totalled my truck had other plans for my evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty scraped up from the seatbelt and from the airbag, and I'm already feeling big time sore.  Other than that, I'm not hurt.  I'm definitely going to be feeling it tomorrow.  Popped an Aleve and will be taking another shortly.  I've got an appointment with my favorite chiropractor to get checked out tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SbSSiJiIdbI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/oA08aFII2F8/s1600-h/Photo-0063.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SbSSiJiIdbI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/oA08aFII2F8/s200/Photo-0063.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311030975948944818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Called in and filed a claim with my insurance company a little bit ago.  They've set up a rental car to be waiting for me, and the adjustor will be looking at my truck tomorrow sometime.  My guess is that it's totalled given that it's a 2002.  I'm positive the frame is bent because the cab was shifted to the right, the airbags went off, and the entire driver side suspension was ripped out from under the truck.  What a shame, it only has 62K miles on it--a 7 year old truck...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This could have been much much worse, but I was by myself.  Mrs. Drofen and the 3 kiddos were all safe at home.  So for that I'm very thankful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7110240397882494371?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7110240397882494371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/study-break.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7110240397882494371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7110240397882494371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/study-break.html' title='Study Break'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SbSS6CbciCI/AAAAAAAAAUY/LhYly03qZpw/s72-c/Photo-0062.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-6486341574989931645</id><published>2009-03-05T20:00:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T20:52:49.684-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Estrogen Ocean'/><title type='text'>Against the Flow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SbCPLkLLYsI/AAAAAAAAAUA/U6U6jg1fibI/s1600-h/feb09_scribble.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 106px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SbCPLkLLYsI/AAAAAAAAAUA/U6U6jg1fibI/s200/feb09_scribble.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309901389521707714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My tender male student nurse feelings were tested on Tuesday during my assessment lecture.  The topic of the day?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Male &amp; female genitalia and rectum &amp; anus.  Surely you see the male-bashing potential from just that bit of information.  We'll also ignore the adolescent-silly comments that peppered the entire lecture, and move on to what really pissed me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were discussing the need for STD testing, and the lecturer asked the class if we thought that a patient that claims to be in a monogamous relationship should still be tested for STD's.  Of course the correct answer is yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then the lecturer went on, and way too far, in my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "You know these high paid executives, they run around and sleep with any little young thing they can.  And then they come home and give these STD's to their unsuspecting wives who have stayed home working hard to care for their children and keep the house just the way the husband likes it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm positive what she describes has happened before.  But I'm also certain, (from personal experience), that husbands are NOT the only people who cheat.  Wives do too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't resist it--I raised my hand and made that point.  The lecturer begrudgingly agreed.  But it wasn't 5 minutes later that we were discussing statutory rape, and she made another comment about how when this happens she has to "turn the boyfriends in to the cops."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, making the assumption that the males are the only ones who might commit statutory rape--a point that is debased quite effectively I think by the rash of female teachers having sex with young students in the news lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My clinical group and I (all females) were discussing this at lunch.  One of my clinical-mates asked me, "What did you expect going into a female dominated world?  If I (she) had gone into engineering, I'm sure that there would be all kinds of female bashing jokes and comments being made."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I responded that while that may be true, that it certainly doesn't make it right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As nursing students we are expected to act as professionals at all times, representing our school in a respectful and courteous way.  We are constantly being reminded to develop our critical thinking skills.  One of the principles of critical thinking that we were tested over was the removal of bias and discriminatory language from our discourse.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, this lecturer apparently missed that class...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I've been over-sensitive here.  And the truth is I'm up for a joke as much as the next girl.  If the same words had been said in jest, I think they probably wouldn't have bothered me.  What bothered me was the fact that the lecturer was completely unaware of her bias.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sad to report that sexism wasn't her only downfall.  She is not our regular professor, and she had a poor grasp on the material in both of her lectures.  Her previous lecture was on the heart, where she informed the class that ventricular filling is what triggers the systolic contraction...without mentioning the conduction system except in passing...  This lecture she made several breast cancer gaffes and reversed syphilis and gonorrhea.  Not my favorite lecturer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-6486341574989931645?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/6486341574989931645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/against-flow.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6486341574989931645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6486341574989931645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/against-flow.html' title='Against the Flow'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SbCPLkLLYsI/AAAAAAAAAUA/U6U6jg1fibI/s72-c/feb09_scribble.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-9026129731025410860</id><published>2009-03-04T14:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T22:15:59.098-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Fiasco de Vizio</title><content type='html'>The 32" CRT TV in my daughters room started acting up about a year ago.  When trying to play movies from the DVD player, the picture would flicker badly, and finally it just went out.  My thought was that it was the DVD player finally crapping out.  I swapped in the one from the living room, and it still didn't work.  Next thought was a bad component cable, but when I bought one it still didn't work and I returned it.  Sound was fine, just no picture.  Obviously this left only one possibility--the video input on the TV was bad.  It was kind of a bummer because my girls like to watch movies, and it's nice to let them watch in another room, allowing us to watch what we'd like to watch.  It's also nice to put on a movie in the other room to entertain the kids when we host small group at our house.  But the TV worked with the satellite, so we just lived with it for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, we got a stupid big tax return this year and I thought that one of the things we'd replace would be the TV's.  Walmart had a 32" Vizio LCD on sale for about $450, so I thought now was the time.  Vizio is known as a bargain brand, but quality rivals much more expensive TV's.  Clearly not the absolute best, but far and away better than comparably priced units.  A good value in other words.  Apparently I'm not the only one who thought so, because they are sold out online, and none of the 10 nearest stores had them in stock.  I managed to locate one in the next town over so I immediately (830 pm) drove over and bought it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lugged it home and set it up, first removing our other 32" CRT TV from our entertainment center and putting it on the floor in the living room.  Those CRT TV's weigh about twice what the LCD does.  I'd put them at 55-60lbs.  Anyway I hooked up the new TV and it was beautiful.  We happily watched for the rest of the evening, awed by it's bright colors and sharp picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I decide to complete the TV shift, and lug the CRT from the living room into my daughters room, and the CRT from my daughters room to the garage.  Writing that blessedly lightweight compound sentence in no way approaches describing the effort it took to do that seemingly simple task.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I got everything plugged in and setup.  Satellite worked fine, and then I popped in a DVD to test...  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and it didn't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After much cursing, and plugging and unplugging, it turns out that the cable AND the DVD player were bad.  What are the odds of that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then I had the treat of packing the pretty Vizio back into it's box to be returned (mostly because I relish being treated like a criminal at customer counters.)  Then the TV in my daughter's room had to be moved back to the living room, and the TV in the garage had to be moved back into my daughter's room...  Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So a new DVD player and cable later, we have movies in both rooms.  All it took was a late night trip to Walmart and then a morning of moving TVs around, capped off by another trip to Walmart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention I hate Walmart?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-9026129731025410860?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/9026129731025410860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/fiasco-de-vizio.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/9026129731025410860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/9026129731025410860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/fiasco-de-vizio.html' title='Fiasco de Vizio'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-626329011555414351</id><published>2009-03-01T15:52:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T16:03:19.453-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Shit.</title><content type='html'>I've had nurses tell me that everyone has "one thing" that they just don't do, or have a hard time dealing with.  For my wife, her one thing is open, sucking, gaping wounds.  They make her queasy and have made her light-headed before.  But she's also a testament to learning to deal with your one thing--she's been a successful pediatric critical care nurse for 6 1/2 years now, and she does see her fair share of patients with open sucking wounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my one thing is...shit.  I don't think it's the smell--I've learned I can close my nose off pretty effectively from all the poopy diapers I've changed.  It's not the sight of it either--once you're used to breast milk poops, there's not much that will faze you in that department.  Unless it moves on its own. But mostly I think it's just the thought of it that gets me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that a lot of nursing care is dealing with poop.  I know that it's a fact of life.  I know that most patients can't help what's oozing out of their ass.  I also know that most patients KNOW that there poop situations sucks and it's a great source of embarrassment to them.  I know that putting on your nurse face is the greatest gift you can give these patients.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thought of ass juice just makes my skin crawl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm working on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-626329011555414351?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/626329011555414351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/shit.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/626329011555414351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/626329011555414351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/03/shit.html' title='Shit.'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5767355907447982566</id><published>2009-02-26T19:11:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T16:06:47.557-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clinical'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Clinical Day II</title><content type='html'>Today was my second day of clinical in the hospital.  I have to say that I felt much more confident when I hit the floor at 0630--I hope that trend continues.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the luck of the draw I got paired with another awesome nurse today.  My assignment was to pick a single patient, complete my assessment, and then collect enough data to write up a total care plan.  Given how awesome my nurse was, I made the executive decision to tag along with her and watch her manage the care of 5 acute patients instead.  As a result I ended up with doing 5 assessments instead of just one, and all before 0830.  After that we started passing meds, and she was so cool.  Her challenge to me was that if I could correctly name the drug's purpose off the top of my head without looking it up, I could relay that information to the patient as I...ahem...happened to hand the patient the little medication cup that may, or may not have had the medication in it.  I may have pushed a few syringes that may, or may not have had medication in them as well.  Of course I couldn't *officially* pass meds since I haven't been checked off on that skill.  But let's just say that my years as a pharmacy tech really paid off today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amongst our patients today was a patient I got to know last week--a 36 y/o male who'd had a suspected stroke.  He was in a semi-coma and completely unresponsive.  The docs really had no idea what was going on with the patient though.  He'd spiked a bad temp, but wasn't responding to any of the antibiotics they threw at him.  None of his cultures were growing anything either.  Such a young guy, in good shape too, and has a wife and young kids.  Anyway, as the tech and I were giving him a bath today, I noticed when I was washing his back/sides he was twitching a little bit like I was tickling him.  So I said something to the nurse, and he started squeezing her hand on request.  Later when doing oral care on him, he was retracting his lips to help.  And then he started lifting his head and following you with his eyes.  When I was leaving for post-conference he actually spoke to the nurse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was a pretty amazing experience--he's been admitted for two weeks today, and completely unresponsive the whole time.  Until today.  I've been blessed with some pretty awesome experiences in my two days of clinical.  I hope the trend continues, because I've heard of classmates of mine not being quite so lucky.  Personally I think someone is watching out for me.  I just don't think I could handle a shitty clinical experience with everything else that's weighing on me right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway--the next two weeks we're in lab instead of clinical, so no stories of codes or miraculous awakenings.  Although, stay tuned for a post where I talk shit.  Literally.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5767355907447982566?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5767355907447982566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/clinical-day-ii.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5767355907447982566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5767355907447982566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/clinical-day-ii.html' title='Clinical Day II'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-111323909521527062</id><published>2009-02-25T15:24:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T15:57:36.718-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commentary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Checked Off</title><content type='html'>Had my NG Tube Placement, Foley Catheter Placement, and Sterile Wound Dressing check offs today.  All went smoothly, and my assessor was really nice.  She showed me some real world modifications of the book's procedures, so that was really helpful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a job fair at my school today sponsored by the Career Services.  Several hospitals were among the employers there to recruit.  I had planned on visiting between my check-off practice this morning and my check offs at 1300.  I dropped by and everyone in the place was in business dress and I was in my scrubs.  And the room was absolutely packed.  I just didn't feel like dealing with the extra stress, so I bailed and studied my check-off material instead.  I have a pretty short list of hospitals I'd like to work at, and none of them were there, so I didn't stress about it too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is Mrs. Drofen's birthday, so I stopped at the local mom &amp; pop bakery where we got our wedding cake made to get her a birthday cake.  Unfortunately they no longer accept debit cards due to all the fees associated with them.  Well, I didn't have cash and I'm not allowed to carry checks, so they ended up losing a sale completely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've debated about whether or not to blog this next part.  To blog it validates that it pisses me off and that it affects me.  Remember &lt;a href="http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/chic-intolerance.html"&gt;this post?&lt;/a&gt;  Well it wasn't long after that I noticed that she was no longer on my friends list on Facebook or Myspace.  So I headed over to her blog (that &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;she&lt;/span&gt; gave me the address to) and left a comment along the lines of:  "Hey I noticed you unfriended me on FB and MS, I don't know that I completely understand why, but I can respect that.  I just wanted to let you know that there are no hard feelings and that I hope things go well for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big mistake apparently.  I happened by her blog again yesterday, only to discover a long post about me.  She apparently believes I am cyber-stalking her, (nothing could be further from the truth,) and claims that I have threatened her, (never happened.)  She proceeds to tell me that Big Brother is watching, and that she's recorded my IP address etc, (uh, duh?!?).  She says that my comments regarding her FB status quote that started all this were multi-paragraph tirades, (they weren't.)  And her little crony friends all made snide comments on the post, how much of an idiot I am, etc.  The worst part is where she says that we're not friends, will never be friends, and never were friends in the past.  I had always considered her a friend back in high school.  We had multiple honor's classes together, worked on multiple class projects together, I played tennis with her boyfriend, etc.  It just makes me wonder how many people I consider friends never were...  So, it pisses me off to have my character libeled like that, but I think I'm just going to let it go.  The LA sun &amp; smog has clearly cooked her brain tissue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just sucks getting kicked in Internet-balls for no real reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's my post for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clinical tomorrow morning butt-ass early.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-111323909521527062?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/111323909521527062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/checked-off.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/111323909521527062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/111323909521527062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/checked-off.html' title='Checked Off'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5989807194189026018</id><published>2009-02-23T19:01:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T19:02:59.415-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commentary'/><title type='text'>I Am Second</title><content type='html'>If you don't know this story, watch it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://iamsecond.com/#/seconds/Josh_Hamilton/"&gt;I Am Second&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5989807194189026018?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5989807194189026018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-am-second.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5989807194189026018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5989807194189026018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-am-second.html' title='I Am Second'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3825989904653625242</id><published>2009-02-23T07:44:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T13:54:54.469-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>The Holiday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBi0sCi2I/AAAAAAAAATg/1jvmbJst7Rw/s1600-h/theholiday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBi0sCi2I/AAAAAAAAATg/1jvmbJst7Rw/s320/theholiday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305805008766405474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I remember when the previews for this movie were playing on TV I thought that it sounded like a good story, but something about the previews made me think it would be disappointing.  As a result I've never watched the film, and once again the Netflix Queue surprises...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I started watching the film last night (after a full day of in-law exposure,) I was tired, and honestly needed something fluffy to soothe my brain while the day wound down.  I wasn't prepared at all for how endearing and witty this movie actually was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the movie began to play I was repeatedly pleasantly surprised as familiar faces filled the screen.  I knew it was a "Kate Winslet" movie, but was happy to see Jude Law, Cameron Diaz, and Jack Black fill out the cast.  Even more of a pleasant surprise was meeting Eli Wallach for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBa9ue9rI/AAAAAAAAATY/hyGCoIZ3HFw/s1600-h/Cameron+Diaz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBa9ue9rI/AAAAAAAAATY/hyGCoIZ3HFw/s200/Cameron+Diaz.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305804873753622194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The movie follows several story lines simultaneously, a la Love Actually.  We meet Iris (Winslet) and Amanda (Diaz) on opposite sides of the The Pond, but their situations couldn't be much more similar.  Both are emotionally stunted in the way they relate to others, leading empty un-fulfilling lives as a result.  Fed up to the very breaking point, both end up on the web searching for a way to get away from it all.  Where their lives intersect is a home-exchange website, and on a whim they agree to swap homes for a few weeks vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBWz_mKOI/AAAAAAAAATQ/xtQqElFYODA/s1600-h/kate_winslet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBWz_mKOI/AAAAAAAAATQ/xtQqElFYODA/s200/kate_winslet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305804802421565666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The two leading ladies here are fantastic together, and I have to say I was a bit surprised.  This is a wonderful example of the whole being greater than the sum of the parts.  I'm ambivalent about both of these actresses.  Kate Winslet will forever be tarnished by Titanic for me (eww, Leonardo Di Caprio cooties!) and I often find Cameron Diaz terribly obnoxious and annoying.  Here however, Diaz actually finds subtlety within a self-absorbed, obnoxious L.A. socialite of a character.  She does an excellent job of bringing out a tender side that leaves the viewer actually caring about her situation.  Kate Winslet's character is just as beautifully played, and watching the transformation in her life as she spreads her wings through the course of the movie was particularly enjoyable to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBQEGK12I/AAAAAAAAATI/ieNFJhKco-w/s1600-h/Jude_Law.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBQEGK12I/AAAAAAAAATI/ieNFJhKco-w/s200/Jude_Law.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305804686485018466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've said it before, and I'll say it again--I really like Jude Law.  I think he's a remarkably versatile actor, and painfully underrated in the Hollywood scene.  Here he does not disappoint, playing Iris' brother, and Amanda's new love interest.  He's refreshingly open, honest, and vulnerable, but shields a secret close to his heart.  I won't give away his secret, just in case you haven't yet seen the film.  Suffice it to say when I finally got a handle on his character, my heart ached in hope for him and Amanda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBJfy0D8I/AAAAAAAAATA/dl3qbsHJ8BE/s1600-h/jack-black.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 157px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBJfy0D8I/AAAAAAAAATA/dl3qbsHJ8BE/s200/jack-black.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305804573660942274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Jack Black on the other hand is a bit of an enigma to me.  Slapstick comedy that shows up in many of his films (Nacho Libre?) just isn't my cup of tea.  I tolerated School of Rock--saved only by his tender heart for the kids.  Much of the same to report with Shallow Hal.  He really does have a great heart that comes across in most of his characters, and this film is no exception.  A little quirky, but lovable, he's good medicine for Iris--if only their loyal hearts will allow them to accept the manner in which they met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBBR5bREI/AAAAAAAAAS4/QSnefAI-Yjw/s1600-h/eli-wallach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBBR5bREI/AAAAAAAAAS4/QSnefAI-Yjw/s200/eli-wallach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305804432491627586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One of my favorite characters in this character-rich film is Arthur Abbott played by Eli Wallach.  Eli Wallach has a rich cinematographic history spanning almost 60 years.  This film is the first I've seen of him to my knowledge.  Arthur Abbott is delightfully quirky with a wonderful outlook on life, and I really get the sense that Wallach didn't do much acting.  If he did, it was masterfully, if not seamlessly done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall this movie was wonderfully romantic, and beautifully shot.  The areas depicted of Surrey, England and L.A. both were just gorgeous.  The film left the viewer rooting for its characters, and that's always a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This film is rated PG-13, with a few sexual situations that seem to arise in modern dating relationships.  No nudity, and only a small amount of cussing--nothing terribly distracting.  Watch the movie, you'll enjoy it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give this movie an A-.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3825989904653625242?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3825989904653625242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/holiday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3825989904653625242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3825989904653625242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/holiday.html' title='The Holiday'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SaIBi0sCi2I/AAAAAAAAATg/1jvmbJst7Rw/s72-c/theholiday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7120954648767234027</id><published>2009-02-21T09:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T09:34:00.103-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Evolve QOTD'/><title type='text'>Evolve Quote of the Day #5</title><content type='html'>Evolve Online, fostering improved relations between doctors and nurses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;A client becomes nauseated after eating lunch and is vomiting.  The physician has written an order for Compazine 10mg PO or rectal PRN nausea.  What action should you take?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;A.  Contact the physician to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;recommend&lt;/span&gt; the rectal route.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;B.  Notify the physician that the rectal route will be used.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;C.  Contact the physician to determine the route of administration.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of the 3, I think "B" is my favorite--imagine, if you will, how that conversation might go...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7120954648767234027?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7120954648767234027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/evolve-quote-of-day-5.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7120954648767234027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7120954648767234027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/evolve-quote-of-day-5.html' title='Evolve Quote of the Day #5'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1857442788429570843</id><published>2009-02-19T17:24:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T16:07:50.993-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clinical'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Clinical Jeopardy</title><content type='html'>Category:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nursing School&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Clues:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Insertion of a rectal tube.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Deep tracheal suction.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bagging of a coding patient.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bagging of a freshly intubated coding patient.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Grabbing the ankles of a seizing patient and dragging them back into bed, inches from hitting the floor head first after a doctor took the headboard off the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Helping move and transfer approximately 19 million patients.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Answer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;What are things Drofen did during his very first day of clinical?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1857442788429570843?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1857442788429570843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/clinical-jeopardy.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1857442788429570843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1857442788429570843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/clinical-jeopardy.html' title='Clinical Jeopardy'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3340943289903435008</id><published>2009-02-19T10:43:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T17:11:36.589-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>Fireproof</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZuT7zmbUdI/AAAAAAAAASo/n3pibFd40aI/s1600-h/fireproof.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZuT7zmbUdI/AAAAAAAAASo/n3pibFd40aI/s320/fireproof.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303995641831838162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We watched this movie at a dinner party for our small group from our church.  As soon as I heard of the movie I knew that it was definitely one I wanted to see.  We almost went and saw it in the theater, but decided to wait until it came out on DVD.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First an observation about the movie and where it fits in the world.  The movie very clearly and unapologetically carries Christian under/overtones.  On &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1129423/"&gt;IMDB&lt;/a&gt; there is a rating system that relies on user votes, and not surprisingly there is huge spike at either end of the scale--1 out of 10 stars and 10 out of 10 stars.  Obviously the movie contains some pretty controversial content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZuTQjrtfUI/AAAAAAAAASg/4HKQmdW9HaY/s1600-h/kirk-cameron.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 188px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZuTQjrtfUI/AAAAAAAAASg/4HKQmdW9HaY/s200/kirk-cameron.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303994898824658242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The movie gains the viewer an inside look at the Holt marriage, and frankly it's not a pretty picture.  Caleb Holt, played by Kirk Cameron, is hot headed, selfish, and unappreciative.  His marriage is in shambles, and all he can say is it isn't all his fault.  His wife, played by Erin Bethea, is bitter and at the end of her rope.  She's sure that their marriage is over and flirts with the shady line of an affair.  Enter the Love Dare and watch the fireworks fly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZuTJfUriZI/AAAAAAAAASY/cirmOZeHm2U/s1600-h/Erin-bethea.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZuTJfUriZI/AAAAAAAAASY/cirmOZeHm2U/s200/Erin-bethea.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303994777395235218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This movie was important for me to see.  My marriage isn't as healthy as it could be, as hard as that is to admit.  We struggle sometimes.  And Kirk Cameron echoed some of the things that come out of my mouth on a regular basis when we fight.  It is an ugly experience watching the very worst of yourself on screen.  It's tough to sit passively in a group of people when you're afraid someone might recognize you on screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, as good as the story is, the acting was abysmal.  Terrible.  Awful.  I've seen after-school specials with better acting.  The acting was forced, preachy, clunky.  It was demeaning in the sense that clearly the writers/producers/actors thought we, the audience, were too stupid to pick up on subtlety.  So to be sure we didn't miss the message, they lit it up in Vegas style neon, but without the style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But.  I'm going to recommend that you see the film, especially if you are married.  Even if you think you're about to be divorced.  ESPECIALLY if you're about to be divorced.  It's an important message--heaven knows this country's marriages need any help they can get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if it comes in the form of the proverbial sledgehammer to the noggin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall I give the message an A, the acting a D-.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3340943289903435008?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3340943289903435008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/fireproof.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3340943289903435008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3340943289903435008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/fireproof.html' title='Fireproof'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZuT7zmbUdI/AAAAAAAAASo/n3pibFd40aI/s72-c/fireproof.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7169485993937878464</id><published>2009-02-19T09:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T09:17:00.319-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><title type='text'>The Rite of Parenthood #10</title><content type='html'>The successful parent knows the importance of raising a courteous and respectful child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The successful parent realizes that it's the spirit and earnestness behind the words that matter more than the actual words. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, when the 2 y/o belches, and is prompted, "What do you say when you burp?", it is completely appropriate when she says in all earnestness and gravity:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thank you!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7169485993937878464?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7169485993937878464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/rite-of-parenthood-10.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7169485993937878464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7169485993937878464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/rite-of-parenthood-10.html' title='The Rite of Parenthood #10'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-4388719537871548542</id><published>2009-02-18T23:24:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T23:35:28.522-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Massaged</title><content type='html'>So my massage was this morning.  It was...interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jamie turned out to be Janice.  Janice turned out to be 4'11" with hands the size of a 9 y/o.  (I know, I have one.)  And she wore a fanny pack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Janice was very interested to hear that I was a doctor of chiropractic and said, "Maybe I should come work in your office."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "Maybe this is my interview." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Maybe."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't have the heart to tell her that I didn't have an office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Massage therapists should be happy.  They definitely shouldn't hate their job.  Or if they do, they should keep that to themselves.  Janice didn't seem very happy.  And she didn't seem to like her job much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I probably wouldn't have hired her if I did have a practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall it was nice.  But massage therapists hands shouldn't start shaking halfway through the massage from the effort.  Also I would have rather she spent less time on my face and my glutes and more time on my back, but apparently my 50 minutes were up because I got a cursory swipe and wipe on my back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a really great gift, and I'd love to have another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just probably not with Janice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-4388719537871548542?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/4388719537871548542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/massaged.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4388719537871548542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4388719537871548542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/massaged.html' title='Massaged'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3885538392313841944</id><published>2009-02-18T09:02:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T09:02:01.479-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>Search Engine Fun</title><content type='html'>This is truly amusing - if you read it, consider yourself tagged :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Type in your name and the word "needs" in quotes ("[Your first name] needs”) ("Amy needs") into your favorite search engine and see what comes up. List the first 10 that actually answer the question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drofen needs money.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drofen needs a fair trial.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drofen needs your help.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drofen needs to see.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drofen needs a sanctuary, a periodic retreat from the...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drofen needs to postpone visit.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drofen needs to keep in touch with the people that really matter.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drofen needs the boot.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drofen needs a cup of joe.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drofen needs very attentive supervision in situations with strangers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3885538392313841944?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3885538392313841944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/search-engine-fun.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3885538392313841944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3885538392313841944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/search-engine-fun.html' title='Search Engine Fun'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-8958110221841415412</id><published>2009-02-17T22:34:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T22:34:41.166-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>My back...</title><content type='html'>...is hair free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-8958110221841415412?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/8958110221841415412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-back.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8958110221841415412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8958110221841415412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-back.html' title='My back...'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7054292519737957127</id><published>2009-02-17T17:26:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T20:44:43.355-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>A Girl Named Herman</title><content type='html'>I alluded to selling my truck to pay for nursing school, and driving my LandCruiser instead.  Since she's a little special, I thought I'd introduce everybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is a 1984 (25 years old this year, classic car status baby!) Toyota LandCruiser FJ60.  She's definitely named Herman.  And she's definitely a "her", moody as can be, and you have to whisper sweet nothings in her ear occasionally to make her happy.  So, without further adieu, here she is:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZtI8zzZGuI/AAAAAAAAASQ/-77JHoQMxiY/s1600-h/IMG_5202.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZtI8zzZGuI/AAAAAAAAASQ/-77JHoQMxiY/s400/IMG_5202.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303913195694004962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Herman will be growing up over the next few weeks--a lift, some larger tires, tint, new windshield, so stay tuned for pictures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7054292519737957127?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7054292519737957127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/girl-named-herman.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7054292519737957127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7054292519737957127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/girl-named-herman.html' title='A Girl Named Herman'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZtI8zzZGuI/AAAAAAAAASQ/-77JHoQMxiY/s72-c/IMG_5202.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-6492566325482034121</id><published>2009-02-17T11:48:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T12:17:20.942-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Valentine's &amp; Such</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZr9uGgXtqI/AAAAAAAAASI/hjpgcnRn7Vw/s1600-h/mail.google.com.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZr9uGgXtqI/AAAAAAAAASI/hjpgcnRn7Vw/s200/mail.google.com.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303830479644374690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Valentine's Day was pretty good this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife brought me flowers, and she wanted to make sure I let everyone know that she decided to that before she read my blog about only receiving flowers once before in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also got a card, and inside that card was an appointment card for a 50 minute massage at a new massage clinic in town!  Never had a massage before, so that will be...fun?  Stimulating?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was much discussion with her and some of my other friends about whether the massuese will be male or female.  To muddy the waters the appointment was made with "Jamie" a la Pat from SNL.  Some one suggested that if it were a guy then I wouldn't have to worry about a certain parasympathetic reaction occurring.  My retort to that was the only thing worse would be if that happened and it WAS a guy masseuse!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My appointment is for in the morning, and my wife has promised to help me with some grooming functions in preparation--namely back hair, which I unfortunately can't reach with my &lt;a href="http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2008/12/on-grooming.html"&gt;electric clippers&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In return I got my wife a card and a pedometer so she can start counting steps.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our small group had a couples only dinner, and then watched Fireproof.  I'll be doing a review of the movie here soon.  It was a really nice evening.  Capped it all off with some painful but soundless (Baby Drofen was in his bassinet at bedside,) adult recreation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thank you Mrs. Drofen for a lovely Valentine's weekend.  And thank you for trying to get us 'back in the saddle.'  Mostly thank you for trimming my back hair for me.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-6492566325482034121?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/6492566325482034121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/valentines-such.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6492566325482034121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6492566325482034121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/valentines-such.html' title='Valentine&apos;s &amp; Such'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SZr9uGgXtqI/AAAAAAAAASI/hjpgcnRn7Vw/s72-c/mail.google.com.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-668362224788656797</id><published>2009-02-14T19:55:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T22:12:59.886-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Recipes'/><title type='text'>Spinach Olive Potato Fritata</title><content type='html'>Ingredients:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;One large baking potato&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;8 eggs&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;2 tablespoons chopped black olives&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;1 cup chopped fresh spinach&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;1/2 cup grated cheddar cheese&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;1/4 cup grated Romano cheese&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;Directions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coat bottom of an oven safe 10" omelet skillet with olive oil and heat until hot.  Cut potato into 1/4ths lengthwise and slice thinly.  Brown potato slices on medium high heat, then cover and turn down to medium low heat for 10 minutes, or until potato slices are cooked through.  Meanwhile, crack 8 eggs into bowl and mix with fork.  Stir in black olives.  Turn heat on skillet back up to medium high, and add egg/olive mixture.  Sprinkle chopped spinach evenly over skillet, pressing in until embedded in egg mixture.  Cook until bottom and sides of eggs are set up, with only a liquid center.  Sprinkle both cheddar and Romano cheese evenly over the top, and place skillet on top oven rack, 4" under hot broiler.  Roast, checking often, until center is set and cheese is melted.  Let stand at least 5 minutes before serving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Variations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried this with diced tomatoes and grated onions added as well.  If you're a big olive fan, sliced olives work well too--my wife isn't and the chopped olives are lower profile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-668362224788656797?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/668362224788656797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/spinach-olive-potato-fritata.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/668362224788656797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/668362224788656797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/spinach-olive-potato-fritata.html' title='Spinach Olive Potato Fritata'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3409007725980502253</id><published>2009-02-13T20:39:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T16:23:27.744-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>One Word</title><content type='html'>Stolen from &lt;a href="http://danasaur.blogspot.com/"&gt;Danasaur&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Where is your cell phone? Pocket&lt;br /&gt;2. Your significant other? Reading&lt;br /&gt;3. Your hair? Short&lt;br /&gt;4. Your mother? Practical&lt;br /&gt;5. Your father? Old&lt;br /&gt;6. Your favorite thing? Happiness&lt;br /&gt;7. Your dream last night? Anxiety&lt;br /&gt;8. Your favorite drink? Water&lt;br /&gt;9. Your dream/goal? Happiness&lt;br /&gt;10. What room you are in? Living&lt;br /&gt;11. Your hobby? Photography&lt;br /&gt;12. Your fear? Failure&lt;br /&gt;13. Where do you want to be in 7 years? Packing&lt;br /&gt;14. Where were you last night? Couch&lt;br /&gt;15. First kiss? Junior-high&lt;br /&gt;16. Rockets? Houston?&lt;br /&gt;17. Wish list item? Weight-loss&lt;br /&gt;18. Where you grew up? Farm&lt;br /&gt;19. Last thing you did? Walk&lt;br /&gt;20. What are you wearing? Clothes&lt;br /&gt;21. Your TV? Backyardigans&lt;br /&gt;22. Your medium? Light&lt;br /&gt;23. Friends? Some&lt;br /&gt;24. Your life? Searching&lt;br /&gt;25. Your mood? Tired&lt;br /&gt;26. Missing some one? Myself&lt;br /&gt;27. Car? LandCruiser&lt;br /&gt;28. Something you’re not wearing? Hat&lt;br /&gt;29. Your favorite store [designer]? J. Crew&lt;br /&gt;30. Your favorite color? Olive&lt;br /&gt;31. Your favorite food? Fresh&lt;br /&gt;32. Your favorite smell? Rain&lt;br /&gt;33. When is the last time you laughed? 2y/o&lt;br /&gt;34. Last time you cried? Fight&lt;br /&gt;35. Who will repost this? JK&lt;br /&gt;36. One place that I go to over and over? School&lt;br /&gt;37. One person who emails me regularly? Friend&lt;br /&gt;38. Favorite place to eat? Colorado&lt;br /&gt;39. Why you participated in this survey? Bored&lt;br /&gt;40. What are you doing tonight? Daddying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3409007725980502253?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3409007725980502253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/one-word.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3409007725980502253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3409007725980502253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/one-word.html' title='One Word'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3376266186549009269</id><published>2009-02-13T15:13:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T15:23:33.293-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>In Common</title><content type='html'>Q:  What do the following have in common:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;a 2 y/o drenched from armpit to knees in pee.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;a baby sized wet spot in the middle of mommy &amp;amp; daddy's bed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;2 piles of cat vomit on the bedroom carpet visible only to daddy's bare feet.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;3 onesies in under an hour soaked in vomit or urine.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;A:  The beginning of Friday the 13th morning in the Drofen household.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3376266186549009269?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3376266186549009269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/in-common.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3376266186549009269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3376266186549009269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/in-common.html' title='In Common'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1642092985507339766</id><published>2009-02-12T10:15:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T10:15:01.108-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><title type='text'>The Rite of Parenthood #9</title><content type='html'>The successful parent realizes that certain sounds in the English language are more difficult to pronounce than others.  For example, the hard "C" sound can be particularly troublesome for the 2 y/o palate.  Often the child will approximate the sound as best they can from the repertoire of sounds they have already mastered.  For example, a 2 y/o might substitute a hard "T" sound for a hard "C" sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The successful parent realizes that to avoid discouraging a child from learning, it is important to maintain a straight face when this approximation makes for unfortunate mistakes in the pronunciation of words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when the 2 y/o chases the cat around the house shouting, "Here "T"itty, "T"itty, "T"itty!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1642092985507339766?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1642092985507339766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/rite-of-parenthood-9.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1642092985507339766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1642092985507339766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/rite-of-parenthood-9.html' title='The Rite of Parenthood #9'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7645867535698148918</id><published>2009-02-12T08:10:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T12:54:18.725-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Significant Other Significant Facts</title><content type='html'>Another survey stolen from Christy because, well, I'm particularly succeptible to the power of suggestion lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a survey about you and your significant other and if you're reading this, consider yourself tagged:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ What are your middle names?&lt;br /&gt;Dawn and a name that is never uttered aloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ How long have you been together?&lt;br /&gt;Almost 10 years, been married for 3.5.  It's complicated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ How long did you know each other before you started dating?&lt;br /&gt;Again, complicated.  How long did we know each other before we were emotionally involved?  A few weeks.  How long before we were officially able to date? 4.5 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who asked who out?&lt;br /&gt;I asked her out, incessantly until she agreed just to shut me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ How old are each of you?&lt;br /&gt;I'm 33, she's about to turn 30, HAHA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Whose siblings do/did you see the most?&lt;br /&gt;Hers--she has 7 of them and most live within a couple hours.  I only have one and she lives about 10 hours away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Do you have any children together?&lt;br /&gt;Two, the 2 y/o and baby Drofen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ What about pets? Names?&lt;br /&gt;A golden retriever, Bo, two cats, Dusty and Babycat, and a Russian tortoise named Nadya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, probably a tie between the stepmother/daughter relationship between her and the 9 y/o or the whole chiro school debacle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Did you go to the same school?&lt;br /&gt;HS no, but we met in microbiology class in undergrad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Are you from the same home town?&lt;br /&gt;Negative.  She's from Greenville, TX (One time official motto:  The blackest earth and the whitest people.)  Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who is the smartest?&lt;br /&gt;I know I have the smartass-iest mouth, does that count?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who is the most sensitive?&lt;br /&gt;Toss up really.  I get my feelings hurt way too easily I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Where do you eat out most as a couple?&lt;br /&gt;We don't really eat out anymore, but when we did probably Mexican restaurants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?&lt;br /&gt;Probably Belize, or maybe NYC, I'd have to look at a map to see which is farther.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who has the craziest exes?&lt;br /&gt;Dunno, the easy answer is me since I have that ex-wife we have to deal with on a regular basis.  But she had an ex that would openly booty call her even after he knew we were dating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who has the worst temper?&lt;br /&gt;Blow the top, definitely me.  But she gets testy much more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who does the cooking?&lt;br /&gt;I do almost all the cooking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who is more social?&lt;br /&gt;I am, or at least I have way more people I talk to on a regular basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who is the neat-freak?&lt;br /&gt;Probably her, although since we've had kids she cares less and I care more than we used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who is the more stubborn?&lt;br /&gt;I am hands down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who hogs the bed?&lt;br /&gt;Right now, her &amp; baby Drofen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who wakes up earlier?&lt;br /&gt;Toss up.  She's been up more in the middle of the night, but I'm the one up every morning to get the 9 y/o out of bed for school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Where was your first date?&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, we went to an ultimate frisbee park to walk and talk soon after we realized we had feelings for each other.  Official date, I'd have to play male and say I don't remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who has the bigger family?&lt;br /&gt;Her--6 sisters and a brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Do you get flowers often?&lt;br /&gt;I've never gotten flowers from her.  I occasionally buy some when I'm at the grocery store and on special occasions.  Only one girl has ever bought me flowers (other than corsages) and I'll remember her for that for all time.  So sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ How do you spend the holidays?&lt;br /&gt;Most get spent with hers, basically because of distance.  We try and alternate the major holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who is more jealous?&lt;br /&gt;Used to be me.  I was pretty bad when she was in nursing school.  But somehow she always managed to be working with one of the boy nursing students--there were only like 8 or 9 in her whole class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ How long did it take to get serious?&lt;br /&gt;Way too serious, way too soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who eats more?&lt;br /&gt;Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who does/did the laundry?&lt;br /&gt;We do our own.  I generally do the towels and she does the little kids.  We both do the 9 y/o.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who’s better with the computer?&lt;br /&gt;I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♥ Who drives when you are together?&lt;br /&gt;I usually do.  She says I make her feel like I'm driving with her dad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7645867535698148918?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7645867535698148918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/another-survey-stolen-from-christy.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7645867535698148918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7645867535698148918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/another-survey-stolen-from-christy.html' title='Significant Other Significant Facts'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-8243936065855027113</id><published>2009-02-10T11:28:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T11:41:59.986-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>School Days</title><content type='html'>I remember reading other nursing student's blogs and wondering why they seemed to blog so sporadically.  I thought, "Surely the class load isn't keeping them from blogging?!?  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; won't do &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha.  Here I am 4 days since my last meaningful post, with a couple of photos thrown in to pass the time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had our first exam of the semester this morning--Assessment.  It was over a lot of material, half of which we were never lectured on because of our bad weather days a couple weeks ago.  I did pretty well, having found one question so far that I know I've missed, and one question that possibly didn't have a correct answer at all.  The exam had 65 questions on it, so that puts each one worth less than 2 points so I can miss 5 and still have an A.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been studying my butt off though, trying to get everything done.  It's become more than a little ridiculous though, and near impossible to complete everything and be a participant in the outside world.  I had two days of clinical last week because I'm a boy, and that got rid of one of my days off.  Friday I lounged and did nothing, which turned out to be a big mistake.  Saturday I started freaking out in the morning at the volume of material I had to do, so immediately after lunch I hit the books.  I got most of my Foundations and Health Promotions reading finished by about 9 pm.  Sunday, I got the family out the door to church, then hit the grocery store while making a pizza for their lunch.  I was in Barnes &amp; Noble (a favorite study spot,) by 1230 and I didn't get home until 9 pm.  I finished my reading for Foundations, completed a LONG ASS online module, and studied 4 of 6 chapters for the exam.  Monday I was in class all day long, got home at 430, made dinner for the family, and then got them out the door to small group meeting while I studied the last two chapters.  Ugh.  I'm tired just thinking about it.  Or maybe I'm still tired from doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No break though, because I have lab at 2 until 5, then home to fix dinner.  Then I have yet another online module to finish before midnight tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I hope to be around to all your blogs this evening sometime and do some catch-up commenting.  Thanks to everyone for checking on me!  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-8243936065855027113?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/8243936065855027113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/school-days.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8243936065855027113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8243936065855027113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/school-days.html' title='School Days'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-4840034947694138265</id><published>2009-02-09T09:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T09:43:02.803-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><title type='text'>Cadillac Ranch #2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SY2sTadYCnI/AAAAAAAAAR0/y8vvpJ6jEyU/s1600-h/IMG_2599.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SY2sTadYCnI/AAAAAAAAAR0/y8vvpJ6jEyU/s400/IMG_2599.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300081786004966002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Canon 40d, Canon 17-40mm f4L&lt;br /&gt;1/400s f8 at 17mm iso200&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-4840034947694138265?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/4840034947694138265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/cadillac-ranch-2.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4840034947694138265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4840034947694138265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/cadillac-ranch-2.html' title='Cadillac Ranch #2'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SY2sTadYCnI/AAAAAAAAAR0/y8vvpJ6jEyU/s72-c/IMG_2599.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7639159052214032775</id><published>2009-02-07T09:37:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T09:43:20.791-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><title type='text'>Cadillac Ranch #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SY2raYPI9iI/AAAAAAAAARs/kO-eHkwiCNQ/s1600-h/IMG_2587.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SY2raYPI9iI/AAAAAAAAARs/kO-eHkwiCNQ/s400/IMG_2587.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300080806155843106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Canon 40d, Canon 17-40mm f4L&lt;br /&gt;1/640s f8 at 40mm iso200&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cadillac Ranch outside Amarillo TX.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7639159052214032775?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7639159052214032775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/cadillac-ranch-1.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7639159052214032775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7639159052214032775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/cadillac-ranch-1.html' title='Cadillac Ranch #1'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SY2raYPI9iI/AAAAAAAAARs/kO-eHkwiCNQ/s72-c/IMG_2587.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-9034597226196889669</id><published>2009-02-05T13:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T13:35:00.720-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Evolve QOTD'/><title type='text'>Evolve Quote of the Day #4</title><content type='html'>Troubleshooting lack of urine output after catheterization:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If catheter is misplaced in vaginal opening, make a second attempt with another sterile catheter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-9034597226196889669?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/9034597226196889669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/evolve-quote-of-day-4.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/9034597226196889669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/9034597226196889669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/evolve-quote-of-day-4.html' title='Evolve Quote of the Day #4'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7669592899477826088</id><published>2009-02-04T21:39:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T22:22:17.785-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Bath Day</title><content type='html'>As I alluded to in an earlier post, today was Bath Day, or actually the instructors titled it, "Bed, Bath, and Beyond."  Ha!  The morning started off a very chilly 27* this morning, and the heaters in the Smart Hospital were apparently not working.  I had a very chilly hike across campus since we're not allowed to wear any unapproved coats or jackets over our uniform--or we'll be written a ticket by the Fashion Police for being out of uniform.  Yes, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course since I'm the solitary guy in my clinical group, and we can't have any fraternizing (**GASP**) I get to attend lab today, and tomorrow.  Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My experience today was startlingly trenchant.  Since I was not with my clinical group, I was quite literally being cared for by a total stranger.  And I found the experience completely humiliating.  I was given a bed bath, complete dependent oral care, and fed nectar thick liquids observing aspiration precautions.  Don't get me wrong, my partner was very professional, and was actually quite good as he's been a tech for 6 years.  But the overall experience was quite demeaning.  I'm just not very good at being helpless I think.  My personal space is pretty big too, and I really hate being touched without my permission.  So honestly I found the experience fairly violating.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I imagine I'm not the only one to feel that way.  It's given me an interesting perspective--even the best care can still be offensive or not enough.  And it has nothing to do with the caregiver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'll be processing this day for a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7669592899477826088?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7669592899477826088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/bath-day.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7669592899477826088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7669592899477826088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/bath-day.html' title='Bath Day'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5222271131860941580</id><published>2009-02-04T13:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T13:17:01.039-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Evolve QOTD'/><title type='text'>Evolve Quote of the Day #3</title><content type='html'>From the module on urinary catheterization, regarding palpation of the bladder for distention:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Remember that the palpation of a full bladder increases the urge to void."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umm....ya think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5222271131860941580?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5222271131860941580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/evolve-quote-of-day-3.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5222271131860941580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5222271131860941580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/evolve-quote-of-day-3.html' title='Evolve Quote of the Day #3'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-8411496414773314310</id><published>2009-02-04T07:32:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T22:23:12.394-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Chilly</title><content type='html'>Student nurse Drofen thinks a 27* morning in a building with a broken heater is a lousy time to learn and practice bed baths on each other. &lt;p&gt;----------&lt;br&gt;Sent from the Cingular network using Mobile Email&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-8411496414773314310?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/8411496414773314310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/student-nurse-drofen-thinks-27-morning.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8411496414773314310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8411496414773314310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/student-nurse-drofen-thinks-27-morning.html' title='Chilly'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-8890201701242240415</id><published>2009-02-03T10:39:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T21:21:27.420-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>First Born Survey</title><content type='html'>Here you go mommies (and daddies thank you very much!!!) - a different kind of survey for a change - it's all about your first born.  If you're a parent and you're reading this, consider yourself tagged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see how much you remember!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. WAS YOUR FIRST PREGNANCY PLANNED? No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. WERE YOU MARRIED AT THE TIME? Not really.  We were engaged, but I was about to break it off.  We scheduled a big talk, and she told me she was pregnant.  Good thing I let her go first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. WHAT WAS YOUR REACTION? Honestly?  I was kind of turned on.  It's happened all three times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. WAS ABORTION AN OPTION FOR YOU? No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. HOW OLD WERE YOU? 23&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. HOW DID YOU FIND OUT YOU WERE PREGNANT? She was late, and her girlfriend was in town for the pre-wedding festivities and made her take a pregnancy test.  Turns out when you stop taking your birth control pills, you're not only no longer protected, but you're also fertile as Napa Valley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. WHO DID YOU TELL FIRST? I guess I was the 3rd to know.  The next person I told was a good friend at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. DID YOU WANT TO FIND OUT THE SEX? Yes, I was hoping for a boy at the time, but I'm so glad she and the next one were girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. DUE DATE? April 16&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. DID YOU HAVE MORNING SICKNESS? She did, but I'm pretty sure she milked it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. WHAT DID YOU CRAVE? She craved butterscotch pudding.  She would make huge bowls of it at time.  She wouldn't finish one bowl before she made the next.  The frig was constantly full of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. WHO/WHAT IRRITATED YOU THE MOST?   Our parents who were constantly trying to do the math to see if we'd had sex before we got married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CHILD'S SEX? A girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. DID YOU WISH YOU HAD THE OPPOSITE SEX OF WHAT YOU WERE GETTING? Again, at the time yes, but now no way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. HOW MANY POUNDS DID YOU GAIN THROUGHOUT THE PREGNANCY? She gained about 75 lbs--which was bad because she's 5'1"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. DID YOU HAVE A BABY SHOWER? I don't think so.  We didn't know anyone where we lived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. WAS IT A SURPRISE OR DID YOU KNOW?  See above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. DID YOU HAVE ANY COMPLICATIONS DURING YOUR PREGNANCY? Other than a big case of the first-time-parent-stupids?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. WHERE DID YOU GIVE BIRTH? Arlington Memorial Hospital, Arlington TX.  I would not recommend it to anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. HOW MANY HOURS WERE YOU IN LABOR? She was induced at 9 am, and delivered 12:30 pm the next day, so 27 1/2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. WHO DROVE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL? I did.  We made a stupid posterboard sign to put up in the window.  "WOMAN IN LABOR"  I felt like a really big dork.  I even ran a red light just cause I could and she was shrieking in pain.  She only had the cervidil in...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. WHO WATCHED YOU GIVE BIRTH? Myself, and my ex mother-in-law.  This was before I began hoping she'd be hit by a bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. WAS IT NATURAL OR C-SECTION?  It was vaginal, but I wouldn't call it a natural birth.  Far from it--totally intervention laden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. DID YOU TAKE MEDICINE TO EASE THE PAIN? She had many shots of demerol before they finally gave her an epidural.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. HOW MUCH DID YOUR CHILD WEIGH? 9 lbs 6 oz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. WHEN WAS YOUR CHILD ACTUALLY BORN? March 31, 1999&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. WHAT DID YOU NAME HER?  "The 9 y/o"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. HOW OLD IS YOUR FIRST BORN TODAY? She will be 10 at the end of next month.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-8890201701242240415?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/8890201701242240415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/first-born-survey.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8890201701242240415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8890201701242240415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/first-born-survey.html' title='First Born Survey'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5252494904670043532</id><published>2009-02-03T08:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T08:16:00.973-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><title type='text'>The Rite of Parenthood #8</title><content type='html'>The successful parent knows that baby clothes sizing is often very subjective, and not really standardized.  Which is why it's perfectly normal for a 7 week old infant to have already outgrown his newborn, AND 3 month sized footed pajamas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid's in 6 month clothes and size 2 diapers!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5252494904670043532?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5252494904670043532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/rite-of-parenthood-8.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5252494904670043532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5252494904670043532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/rite-of-parenthood-8.html' title='The Rite of Parenthood #8'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-76639553759344985</id><published>2009-02-02T10:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T10:50:00.547-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>Shuffle Meme: Cup O' Tea, Newsboys</title><content type='html'>1. Put your iTunes on shuffle.&lt;br /&gt;2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.&lt;br /&gt;3. You must write down the name of the song no matter how silly it sounds!&lt;br /&gt;4. Put any comments in brackets after the song name.&lt;br /&gt;5. Tag at least 10 friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do your friends think of you?&lt;br /&gt;Godspeed (Sweet Dreams), Dixie Chicks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone says, “Is this okay?” You say...&lt;br /&gt;Forgive and Forget, Avalon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How would you describe yourself?&lt;br /&gt;The Secret Wedding (Braveheart Soundtrack), London Symphony Orchestra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you like in a guy/girl?&lt;br /&gt;Suite in C Major for Solo Cello, BWV 1009, John Williams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you feel today?&lt;br /&gt;The First Noel, Sergio Franchi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is your life’s purpose?&lt;br /&gt;Don't Think I Won't, Mark Wills&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is your motto?&lt;br /&gt;Dreams, Kenny Chesney&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think about very often?&lt;br /&gt;Slow Motion, Third Eye Blind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is 2+2?&lt;br /&gt;What I Miss About Heaven, Lee Ann Womack&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think of your best friend?&lt;br /&gt;Your Love Is Extravagant, Casting Crowns (HA!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think of the person you love?&lt;br /&gt;Eye, Plum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is your life story?&lt;br /&gt;Always &amp; Forever, Raze&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you want to be when you grow up?&lt;br /&gt;Trouble, Indigo Girls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think of when you see the person you love?&lt;br /&gt;I Will Be There, Britney Spears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will you dance to at your wedding?&lt;br /&gt;You Don't Know What Love Is, Lonestar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will they play at your funeral?&lt;br /&gt;Old Enough, Nickelback&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is your hobby/interest?&lt;br /&gt;Everybody's Free To Feel Good (Romeo &amp; Juliet Soundtrack), Quindon Tarver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is your biggest fear?&lt;br /&gt;Why Would You Go Back, Jeni Varnadeau&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is your biggest secret?&lt;br /&gt;Carried Away, George Strait&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think of your friends?&lt;br /&gt;I Heard The Bells, MercyMe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will you post this as?&lt;br /&gt;Cup O' Tea, Newsboys&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounded more fun that it actually was...LOL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-76639553759344985?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/76639553759344985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/shuffle-meme-cup-o-tea-newsboys.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/76639553759344985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/76639553759344985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/shuffle-meme-cup-o-tea-newsboys.html' title='Shuffle Meme: Cup O&apos; Tea, Newsboys'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-4047636338244824920</id><published>2009-02-01T14:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T14:32:07.106-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commentary'/><title type='text'>Dear Mr. Continuously Ringing Cellphone,</title><content type='html'>I understand that I am in a public place, and even though I am studying, I should expect to be interrupted by many of the distractions going on around me.  But even if I weren't currently studying, I would still find the following excruciatingly annoying:  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  A full 7 minutes of continuously ringing cell phone at full volume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  A ridiculously flamboyant ring tone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Blank stare in return of pointed looks of annoyance by everyone else in Barnes &amp; Noble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me explain this to you as gently as I can.  I have been studying urinary catheterization and feel fully qualified to take your cell phone and shove it directly through your penile meatus and deep into the average 8 inches of your male urethra.  For your information that would be like a size 95 French.  M'kay?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-4047636338244824920?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/4047636338244824920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/dear-mr-continuously-ringing-cellphone.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4047636338244824920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4047636338244824920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/dear-mr-continuously-ringing-cellphone.html' title='Dear Mr. Continuously Ringing Cellphone,'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3709499871014975539</id><published>2009-02-01T08:44:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T09:26:09.836-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Weekend Round Up</title><content type='html'>Here's a brief post about the last few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday was the first day of non-orientation type Foundations Lab (what we do when we're not at clinical.)  It was at our &lt;a href="http://www.uta.edu/nursing/simulation/smart_hospital.php"&gt;Smart Hospital&lt;/a&gt; which apparently is revolutionary and has been toured by thousands and thousands of school administrators and government people from several different countries.  It's basically a sim lab with dummy's etc, but it's set up a like a real hospital.  There are ICU suites, ER suites, pedi suites, OBGYN suites, etc.  Anyway it's pretty cool.  But we found out as soon as we arrived that we would be working with 'standardized patients'--patients that are paid actors, but from the community.  And the kicker was that they were going to be evaluating our skills!  Our skills that we had only heard lecture over, and hadn't even practiced on each other, let alone real people!  Nice little surprise to generate some sympathetic responses.  It was very stressful, luckily we got to go in the rooms as pairs, so we could feed off of each other.  We did our PPE and hand-washing check-off and I passed, thank goodness.  I was a bit worried because the gown, mask, and gloves were all about 3 sizes too small for me.  In fact the gown hiked up my sleeve and displayed my shoulder tattoo, which is normally NOT visible, and the instructor griped at me, big fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we traveled to my wife's home town where one of two sisters that are pregnant had delivered the night before.  She was about 38 weeks along when she delivered and it was really bad timing, haha.  I told her husband to get used to it, because that's how it works when you have kids, LOL!  They had a baby shower scheduled at their church--which went on without her, since they couldn't notify everyone that it would be canceled.  They also just bought a house and had to be out of their current house post haste.  So I spent the day with my F-I-L and the husband's father and brother moving all their furniture.  I'm SORE today, but it was good, we got all their furniture moved, and picked up some new furniture and a frig for them also.  I couldn't believe how lazy his family was though, anything that was heavy, they arranged it so my F-I-L and I got the honors.  At first it could have been coincidence, but towards the end it was really obvious.  Kind of frustrating, but oh well.  We got home about 6 pm (they live about 90 miles from us) and I grilled up some bacon wrapped venison back-strap.  The bacon grease totally caught on fire on the grill, but somehow miraculously the whole thing ended up grilled to perfection--better to be lucky than good I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my wife, the 2 y/o and Baby Drofen are staying home from church because the 2 y/o has a green snotty nose that she's working out.  The 9 y/o and I will be going to church, and then it's school work all this afternoon.  Way behind on reading since I was busy all day yesterday.  And I have a couple modules to get through, so look for more &lt;a href="http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/search/label/Evolve%20QOTD"&gt;Evolve QOTD&lt;/a&gt; posts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, here's a small prayer that &lt;a href="http://my-journey-as-a-student-nurse.blogspot.com/"&gt;Christy&lt;/a&gt; and her family is ok.  They're caught up in the Kentucky ice storm aftermath.  I was really worried last night because I hadn't heard from her in awhile, but then she posted late last night.  Anyway, Christy, hope things are getting better...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3709499871014975539?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3709499871014975539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/weekend-round-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3709499871014975539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3709499871014975539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/02/weekend-round-up.html' title='Weekend Round Up'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2473527652692170676</id><published>2009-01-30T09:19:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T09:57:33.215-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>The Savages</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SYMbK8j_7sI/AAAAAAAAARM/yv9RMSvRSKE/s1600-h/Savages.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SYMbK8j_7sI/AAAAAAAAARM/yv9RMSvRSKE/s320/Savages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297107461587594946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When I initially heard about this movie I was positive it was going to be good.  It has a great cast, and it's a movie that explores one of those forbidden subjects--aging.  So when it arrived from Netflix I was excited.  But then it sat on the entertainment center shelf for more than two months.  Now granted we had a baby in there, and any stretch of time that could be spent watching a movie was spent sleeping instead.  Then it was the holidays, and now I've started school.  But it was more than that.  I knew this movie was going to be a gut wrenching emotional experience.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally broke down and watched this film last night after the wife abandoned me for bed, and while I sipped a cold Beck's as my late night snack venison burgers sizzled on the grill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie essentially follows the last few months of Lenny Savage's life, played by Philip Brosco.  Lenny lives in Sun City AZ with his girlfriend of nearly 20 years, and when she dies, he discovers that she's not made any provisions for him in her will.  Lenny's estranged kids, Wendy (Laura Linney) and Jon (Philip Seymour Hoffman) arrive for him from the East coast, whisk him away, and tuck him neatly into a Medicare nursing home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is clear from the start that this family is horribly dysfunctional, and Lenny is the original cause for most of it.  His kids are terribly damaged, and they struggle with their 'kidly obligation' to a father they even have a hard time admitting they love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The film is deeply sad, and the pain fairly oozes from screen.  It examines each of the kids closely as they battle between their ancient history with their father and and the fundamental human rights that any decent person would expect for another human being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SYMbDgwXCMI/AAAAAAAAARE/dcx6NGqIkkA/s1600-h/lauralinney.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SYMbDgwXCMI/AAAAAAAAARE/dcx6NGqIkkA/s200/lauralinney.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297107333864163522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Laura Linney is outstanding in this movie, and truth be told I haven't seen her in any film that I've not been impressed by her performance.  Her performances in Love Actually and The Truman Show are among her best.  Here she plays a neurotic struggling playwright who's major relationship is with a married man.  But there is a frankness, an openness and honesty the simmers just below the surface despite her best efforts to wall herself off from the world due to past trauma.  The woman is searching for a way to relate to life that doesn't hurt.  Laura Linney absolutely breathes life to this character, and lovingly caresses each neurosis like an old felt hat or a faded gingham checked teddy bear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SYMa6MJWBGI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/OZh1WO-5ELE/s1600-h/philiphoffman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 156px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SYMa6MJWBGI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/OZh1WO-5ELE/s200/philiphoffman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297107173712987234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Philip Seymour is an incredibly underrated actor.  He's been in &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000450/"&gt;so many good films&lt;/a&gt; it's ridiculous.  This role is no stretch him, and he plays it masterfully.  Fighting his own battles of self worth and esteem, Philip's character labels himself the strong one, and does "what has to be done" regardless of its unpleasantness.  Unfortunately he doesn't deal with the emotional toll those types of things bring with them, and it comes out in the other parts of his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that surprised me about this film was how it contrasted everything.  We hear very little about the abusive childhood Wendy and Jon had at the hands of Lenny throughout the beginning of the movie. As a result the viewer builds sympathy for Lenny, and wonder at the insensitivity of his kids.  Even at the end of the movie, the fresh breath of sunshine is tempered with a graphic revelation of just how badly Lenny treated his kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a couple of sex scenes in this film, but no nudity.  The scenes are more tedious than anything, certainly not sexually gratifying.  There is some cursing.  This is not a film for kids--it is dark and melancholy.  It is however, very worth experience.  And yes, there is a small ray of light at the end of the dark tunnel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give this movie an 'A'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2473527652692170676?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2473527652692170676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/savages.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2473527652692170676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2473527652692170676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/savages.html' title='The Savages'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SYMbK8j_7sI/AAAAAAAAARM/yv9RMSvRSKE/s72-c/Savages.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1409801118906836013</id><published>2009-01-30T09:14:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-30T09:14:01.176-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>The Changeling</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXqJQk4TacI/AAAAAAAAAQs/tKgSlQxPthA/s1600-h/changeling.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXqJQk4TacI/AAAAAAAAAQs/tKgSlQxPthA/s320/changeling.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294695229798181314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I understand there's a new movie (2008) by the same title, but that's not the movie I'm talking about.  This film debuted in 1980, and is quite possibly my favorite horror movie of all time.  I dropped this into my Netflix Queue purely on nostalgia's sake.  When I was attending undergrad at McMurry University I attended a midnight Halloween showing of this film at the &lt;a href="http://www.paramount-abilene.org/"&gt;Paramount Theater&lt;/a&gt; in downtown Abilene.  The Paramount is an old theater that's been restored and is used for all kinds of performances--from theatre to indie films.  Needless to say, at midnight on Halloween, it can be a creepy place.  It was a BLAST watching this movie there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXqJLZ1Z-II/AAAAAAAAAQk/45TAIViRhv8/s1600-h/george-c-scott.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 154px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXqJLZ1Z-II/AAAAAAAAAQk/45TAIViRhv8/s200/george-c-scott.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294695140933892226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The film stars George C. Scott, (who's been dead for about 10 years now,) who plays a well known classical composer who's wife and daughter are killed in a tragic car accident right in front of him.  To deal with the tragedy he moves to Seattle to teach at his old alma-mater university.  The local historical society provides Scott with a magnificent old mansion to rent.  What isn't immediately clear is that the house has a past.  And it's tied to the present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXqJEdWxJ5I/AAAAAAAAAQc/-pcyUczrVME/s1600-h/trishvandevere.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 199px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXqJEdWxJ5I/AAAAAAAAAQc/-pcyUczrVME/s200/trishvandevere.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294695021620045714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Trish Van Devere plays the historical society agent that lets Scott the house and in the process befriends him.  When strange unexplainable things begin to happen, Scott begins to investigate and what he learns is troubling.  What's not clear is if Scott and Van Devere will escape being inextricably entangled in past and present dangers.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without giving away anything, the scene with ball and the staircase is the single creepiest scene I've ever seen in a movie.  It gave me shivers at the Paramount, and it gave me shivers this afternoon when I watched the film in the comfort of my living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure the movie is rife with early 80's special effects and poor film quality.  Sexism is alive and kicking here.  But this movie is greatness--think "The Shining" but with intelligence...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie does have some violent scenes involving children, and some rather creepy moments.  Definitely not for children or the faint of heart, (including my wife--I was on my own for this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give this movie a A, purely out of nostalgia.  (It is a pretty good film, too.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1409801118906836013?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1409801118906836013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/changeling.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1409801118906836013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1409801118906836013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/changeling.html' title='The Changeling'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXqJQk4TacI/AAAAAAAAAQs/tKgSlQxPthA/s72-c/changeling.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5498046046745965789</id><published>2009-01-29T17:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T17:49:01.449-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><title type='text'>The Rite of Parenthood #7</title><content type='html'>The successful parent realizes there is no actual way for there to be a large angry black woman trapped in their 2y/o girl's body...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5498046046745965789?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5498046046745965789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/rite-of-parenthood-7.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5498046046745965789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5498046046745965789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/rite-of-parenthood-7.html' title='The Rite of Parenthood #7'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-6903841188895557571</id><published>2009-01-28T12:52:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T12:59:11.587-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Birth Announcements</title><content type='html'>Well, we're finally getting around to announcing Baby Drofen's birth, LOL.  I blame the holidays...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, here's a copy for my faithful readers, (names edited of course, sorry.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We Drofens do want to thank each and everyone of you that have commented and sent your prayers and support to us during his pregnancy and birth.  You have no idea how much it meant to us.  Thank you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SYCqNQJkXhI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/zKbbJFy5liU/s1600-h/Birth+Announcement+Edited.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 285px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SYCqNQJkXhI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/zKbbJFy5liU/s400/Birth+Announcement+Edited.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296420306437824018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-6903841188895557571?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/6903841188895557571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/birth-announcements.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6903841188895557571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6903841188895557571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/birth-announcements.html' title='Birth Announcements'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SYCqNQJkXhI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/zKbbJFy5liU/s72-c/Birth+Announcement+Edited.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7730896076686215215</id><published>2009-01-28T09:36:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T09:36:01.107-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>Chasing Amy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXP1du9Bg5I/AAAAAAAAAQM/A8FB6zBX5c4/s1600-h/Chasing+Amy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 228px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXP1du9Bg5I/AAAAAAAAAQM/A8FB6zBX5c4/s320/Chasing+Amy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292843878259458962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This movie has sat on our entertainment center since before the holidays.  I don't recall actually putting in my Netflix Queue, but it appeared in the mailbox so I must have at some point.  I watched this over a couple of kid's nap-times, if that gives you any indication at how riveting I found the film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Essentially this film follows the birth and growth of a relationship between Holden (Ben Affleck) and Alyssa (Joey Lauren Adams).  A chance meeting through a mutual friend after a comic book convention--all three are comic book artists--leaves Holden breathless.  The couple has good chemistry and seem to be full speed ahead until it's revealed that Alyssa is actually a lesbian.  Having lost hope Holden continues to torture himself by hanging out with Alyssa until eventually they start a romantic relationship.  But trouble looms ahead as Alyssa's checkered sexual past becomes a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXP1Vj_CwjI/AAAAAAAAAQE/QhQlD32nzcw/s1600-h/ben_affleck.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXP1Vj_CwjI/AAAAAAAAAQE/QhQlD32nzcw/s200/ben_affleck.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292843737876185650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I really want to like Ben Affleck.  And I have liked some of the roles he played--in Good Will Hunting, and Jersey Girl.  But most of the time he comes off as a rich kid trying to play himself off as an everyday guy.  He tries to portray himself as drawing on his worldly experiences in his roles, but it doesn't quite resonate with me.  I get that his shtick is quirky irreverent movies, just look at Dogma.  This movie tries for the same irreverence in examining the sexual politics of the gay, lesbian, and bisexual lifestyles.  Unfortunately I think it falls flat on its face.  In fact I found it terribly crude and frightfully inelegant.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXP1QmgTReI/AAAAAAAAAP8/91uDcrZ5aVw/s1600-h/Joey_Lauren_Adams.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 137px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXP1QmgTReI/AAAAAAAAAP8/91uDcrZ5aVw/s200/Joey_Lauren_Adams.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292843652653204962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Joey Lauren Adams makes a valiant effort in playing her complex character.  Mostly though she just comes off as whiny, frustrated, and just plain lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many better ways to spend your movie time.  This movie performs poorly on so many levels that I can't honestly recommend it at all.  It left me shaking my head several times, and not because I found it funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give this film a D-.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7730896076686215215?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7730896076686215215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/chasing-amy.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7730896076686215215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7730896076686215215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/chasing-amy.html' title='Chasing Amy'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXP1du9Bg5I/AAAAAAAAAQM/A8FB6zBX5c4/s72-c/Chasing+Amy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1268737916988416215</id><published>2009-01-27T12:15:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T12:24:40.541-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Evolve QOTD'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Evolve Quote of the Day #2</title><content type='html'>Our instructors have chosen to use Elsevier books Evolve Learning System online modules a part of our curriculum.  You may remember the gem from a day or two ago regarding making sure not to trap breasts in the gait belt when transferring patients.  I'm finding enough hilarious quotes that this may become a regular feature on my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In reference to ensuring the proper placement of NG tubes, the module states:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Upon completion of this lesson, you will be able to identify signs and symptoms of accidental respiratory migration of feeding tube."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently feeding tubes head South for the winter?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1268737916988416215?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1268737916988416215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/evolve-online-quote-of-day-2.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1268737916988416215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1268737916988416215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/evolve-online-quote-of-day-2.html' title='Evolve Quote of the Day #2'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2189022912714798662</id><published>2009-01-27T10:55:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T11:12:32.493-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>The Coming of the Ice Age</title><content type='html'>Apparently global warming is upon us.  The Dallas-Fort Worth media is an absolute frenzy over a potential ice-storm headed our way.  It's been non-stop coverage since the 10 o'clock news last night.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My college has canceled classes for the day, even though it was still 35* this morning when I got up.  But it has since fallen to 30*, and it is starting to ice up outside.  The trees are starting to put on a light coating, and the eaves are dripping slower and slower as they start to solidify into icicles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, the 9 y/o's school has yet to cancel classes.  I'm anticipating that any minute they're going to announce they'll release early.  I guess they're trying to make the time at which they count the day as a full day.  I'm not sure why they're so worried about it, they have built in two inclement weather days in the schedule.  I'm contemplating going to pick her up early though--the main road her school is off of has large bar ditches on either side, and no curbs.  It's also hilly and curvy.  I'd prefer her bus not end up in the ditches--at least with her on board.  They are large enough the bus might turn on its side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here I sit.  Baby Drofen is swinging in his swing working on his next big diaper fill, the 2 y/o is chasing the dog around the house laughing hysterically, Mrs. Drofen is deeply engrossed in a challenging game of solitaire.  I just fried up a pound of venison sausage, so the house smells of smoked meat.   We're warm and cozy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to go get ahead on some of the reading for school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2189022912714798662?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2189022912714798662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/coming-of-ice-age.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2189022912714798662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2189022912714798662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/coming-of-ice-age.html' title='The Coming of the Ice Age'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3689499113915787705</id><published>2009-01-26T16:47:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T22:23:45.253-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commentary'/><title type='text'>Fly</title><content type='html'>Last night the 2 y/o brought me a set of full sized fairy wings from a previous year's Halloween costume.  As I helped her strap them to her back, she was literally dancing with delight.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over and over she said, "I'm a butterfly, I'm a butterfly!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once she was all set, she ran to the middle of the room and strained upward with all her might.  Next she tried hopping off the ground several times.  Finally she returned to me, hugged my knees, and looked up at me with the most mournful puppy dog eyes you've ever seen.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Completely crestfallen she said, "Daddy, I can't fly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call it innocence lost, or a reality check, but I had the very real sense that her big, beautiful world got just a little bit smaller.  There isn't much I wouldn't have given for her to be able, just this once, to spread her wire hanger and pantyhose wings with glitter and sequins and soar around the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we as adults forget how magical this world is when seen through the eyes of a child, yet we wonder why we're not happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've posted it before, but it fits well here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Baby's World&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could take a quiet corner in the heart of my baby's very own world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it has stars that talk to him, and a sky that stoops down to his face to amuse him with its silly clouds and rainbows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those that make believe to be dumb, and look as if they never could move, come creeping to his window with their stories and with trays crowded with bright toys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could travel by the road that crosses baby's mind, and out beyond all bounds;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where messengers run errands for no cause between the kingdoms of kings of no history;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where Reason makes kites of her laws and flies them, the Truth sets Fact free from its fetters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Rabindranath Tagore&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3689499113915787705?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3689499113915787705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/fly.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3689499113915787705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3689499113915787705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/fly.html' title='Fly'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-4626079666205262474</id><published>2009-01-26T08:17:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T12:24:18.993-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Evolve QOTD'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>Evolve Quote of the Day #1</title><content type='html'>From an online learning module about patient transfers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When using a transfer belt on a female patient, ensure the patients breasts are not caught in the belt."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose it's highly inappropriate, but it made me giggle.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then nobody ever accused me of being appropriate...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-4626079666205262474?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/4626079666205262474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/quote-of-day.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4626079666205262474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4626079666205262474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/quote-of-day.html' title='Evolve Quote of the Day #1'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-6162301209297392441</id><published>2009-01-25T16:46:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T19:59:15.955-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><title type='text'>The Rite of Parenthood #6</title><content type='html'>The successful parent understands the importance of mimicking play as an important developmental tool.  For example--the 2 y/o girl clutches her baby dolls close, much as mom does to little brother while he nurses.  The successful parent also knows it is important to stifle their laughter so as not to discourage this type of play.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when the 2 y/o nurses her baby dolls from her belly button.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-6162301209297392441?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/6162301209297392441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/rite-of-parenthood-6.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6162301209297392441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6162301209297392441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/rite-of-parenthood-6.html' title='The Rite of Parenthood #6'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-1452087477872014350</id><published>2009-01-25T09:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T09:54:00.886-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><title type='text'>Sack 'O Potatoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAvTeSTfGI/AAAAAAAAAO8/XE67EFVwzLw/s1600-h/IMG_2614.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAvTeSTfGI/AAAAAAAAAO8/XE67EFVwzLw/s400/IMG_2614.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291781573754190946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Canon EOS 40d, Canon 85mm 1.8&lt;br /&gt;1/60s f/1.8 at 85mm iso1600&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-1452087477872014350?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/1452087477872014350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/sack-o-potatoes.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1452087477872014350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/1452087477872014350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/sack-o-potatoes.html' title='Sack &apos;O Potatoes'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAvTeSTfGI/AAAAAAAAAO8/XE67EFVwzLw/s72-c/IMG_2614.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-4260526265399285869</id><published>2009-01-24T13:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T13:22:02.991-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commentary'/><title type='text'>25 Things</title><content type='html'>Here's my 25 in response to &lt;a href="http://my-journey-as-a-student-nurse.blogspot.com/2009/01/25-random-facts-about-me.html"&gt;Christy's post&lt;/a&gt;.  I'm going to try and come up with 25 things that most of you may not know about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I am adopted.  I met my birth mother a couple years ago, and it was...awkward.  My sister is adopted too, but we weren't biologically related.  My mom has endometriosis and it prevented her from getting pregnant.  It makes me wonder if they had been trying in this day and age if modern medicine might be able to help them.  Would I have been adopted?  It also gives me a unique perspective on abortion.  My birth mother was only 14 when she found out she was pregnant.  Her parents pushed her to have an abortion--she chose to put me up for adoption instead.  She had to move out of her parents house as a result.  I very easily could not be here today, so clearly I think abortion is a bad idea.  At the same time I'm fiercely protective of my inalienable right to choose what happens to me and my body.  It's not an easy space in which to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I grew up on a working alfalfa farm.  Yep, that came with all the goodies:  acres and acres to roam, the farmer tan, and all the exercise that comes with the hard work of farming.  Hey, tossing hay bales is a good workout.  It's probably the reason that I've gained weight these days, I don't have the same metabolic demands.  I was driving tractors by the 4th grade.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I have 3 tattoos, two on my back and one on my right shoulder/arm.  My first tattoo is the best work, mostly because it was planned.  The other two were spur of the moment, and the art sucks.  Unfortunately they're the bigger two.  Someday I will have them reworked into something else.  I'm not convinced I'm done with tattoos, I've got at least two more ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I'm O+.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I used to think I came from really healthy stock.  I was rarely sick as a kid.  I have better than perfect eyesight, my hearing is perfect (despite what my wife may say.)  But after meeting my birth mom I found out she's a 5th generation breast cancer survivor.  And my biological maternal grandfather died of heart disease at a relatively early age.  That's got me feeling my mortality at the ripe old age of 33.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  I had a mole on my shoulder than concerned me.  I went in to a doctor's office for a physical and to specifically ask about it.  It was the first time I'd been to the doctor in 15 years.  She wasn't concerned about my mole, didn't give it but a cursory glance.  She was however, extremely concerned about my stuffy nose and was rather disgruntled when I wouldn't let her write me a prescription for a decongestant.  3 months later the mole was still concerning me, so I went to a dermatologist on my own dime.  One glance and she said, oh that's going to have to come off, and immediately performed a 9mm punch biopsy.  Of course the biopsy came back positive for melanoma, so I was quickly back into the office for a larger biopsy.  The second biopsy had no atypical cells in it, so they got it all the first time.  And that's the story of how an 8mm mole turns into a 2 inch scar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  I have never lost consciousness, even after having been completely thrown off my feet by a blow to the head by a falling log.  The closest I ever came to passing out was when they numbed me up for the punch biopsy.  Apparently lido w/ epi and I don't get along very well.  The nurses all thought it was the biopsy that did it, but it was the lido that made me lightheaded.  They had a good time teasing me about being a pansy anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  My thumbs are two different sizes.  My right thumb is proportionate to the rest of my fingers.  My left thumb is shorter and fatter.  When I was in grade school I severely cut my left thumb to the bone on a farm implement, severing the nerve.  I still have a numb patch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  I have large hands and feet.  I wear a 13 in most shoes, although a size 14 New Balance shoe actually fit me well when I was looking for shoes for nursing school.  I wear a 9 1/2 in sterile gloves.  I wear a size 13 wedding ring.  I know there's bigger guys out there, but I'm only 6'1" on my best day.  I think the proportion of my limbs makes people think I'm not as big as I really am.  And sometimes having large hands works against me.  Kind of like how they say to marry a woman with small hands so certain things will look bigger--and the diamond ring is only one of them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.  I was a musician in high school and for the first part of my undergrad.  I made allstate choir all four years of high school.  I was often in several choirs at once--4 at a time in high school, and about the same in college.  I also used to compose music and had few pieces performed in public performances by our high school choir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.  I will never eat coleslaw again as long as I live.  When I was growing up the women of our church would put on an annual enchilada dinner to raise money.  Well one year ticket sales at the door did not even approach estimated demand.  As a result my mom brought home what had to be a 55 gallon drum of coleslaw so it wouldn't go to waste.  We ate coleslaw for WEEKS.  Even after it started to spoil and go sour...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12.  I love to clean my ears--I'm a Q-tip freak.  At least once a day I have to give them a good scrubbing.  Luckily I'm a copious ear wax producer--they usually need cleaning.  Can't go a day with my ear-gasm. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13.  I've worked a ton of different jobs.  I've been:  food delivery driver, a paid musician, a roofer, a fencer, a church youth director, a forest service fire fighter, an assistant college woman's volleyball coach, a natural gas well remote operations control tech, a waiter, an eyeglasses lab tech, a pharmacy tech, a chiropractor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14.  I can't stand Dora, Diego, or Satan himself--Barney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15.  I didn't drink any alcohol until I was 21.  But the first time I ever drank I was completely convinced I was an alcoholic.  You see I was an RA in a dorm at the first university I attended.  It was a church affiliated school so no alcohol was allowed.  At the end of Christmas break a big winter storm rolled in, and my drive from home in northern New Mexico back to school was going to be a rough one.  I called my RD and explained the situation, but he insisted I needed to be back because there were going to be residents in the dorm. So I set out.  Unfortunately I followed the storm all the way to Texas, and it turned into a major winter weather event with almost a foot of snow dumping as it went, and more in the mountains.  A 12 hour trip normally, it took me nearly double that, and my jeep was in 4WD for all 700 miles of it.  When I arrived on campus, it was deserted.  The school was closed.  Even the RD wasn't there.  So, I rebelled and drove the grocery store to get some alcohol and get drunk.  I came back to my dorm room with a 4 pack of B&amp;J's Fuzzy Navel wine coolers!  LOL!!  So I popped a top, plunked myself down in front of the TV to get drunk, and one of those commercials comes on:  "If you're not sure if you have an alcohol problem, the following behaviors may indicate you're an alcoholic:  drinking alone, drinking in response to stress, drinking when you're angry, drinking to get drunk..."  So I was completely convinced I was an alcoholic within minutes of my first drink of alcohol, ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16.  I'd rather be:  cold than hot, hungry than overfull, hiking than swimming, at a romantic intimate dinner than a dance club, naked than clothed, dead than a vegetable, alone than in a relationship that isn't working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17.  I apparently look gay.  I get hit on all the time by gay guys.  I'm flattered, but I really wonder what it is that makes them think I'm gay?  I don't think I'm particularly flamboyant, but maybe I'm missing something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18.  I once knocked the cover a off a volleyball in the middle of a match.  (I played men's volleyball for two different colleges.)  The ref had just made a terrible call and I was extremely angry about it.  On the very next rally we ran a trick play out of the middle and I ended up with the set.  The blockers bit on the two fakes so I had an empty net.  The set was perfect and I uncorked on it with all my strength and anger.  The cover on the ball immediately split open, it hit the floor with a thud and the bladder popped out while the cover went sliding across the floor.  The gym went completely quiet for a few brief seconds, and then the crowd went nuts.  It was a conference match so the ball was brand new out of the package, but it must have had a defect.  But even the refs and the other team were impressed.  It was exactly like a &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZqox4TLYLs"&gt;Powerade&lt;/a&gt; commercial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19.  I was almost struck by lightning while mountain biking one time.  Your hair really does stand on its end when you're about to get struck.  And when the flash and the thunder are simultaneous, it's close. REALLY close.  The lightning hit a tree about 20 yards away from our group.  Needless to say, we hurried off the mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20.  I have really long toes.  Some of my toes are longer than some of my wife's fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21.  Someday I want to live somewhere in Europe.  Scotland, Austria, Switzerland top the list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22.  I am a hopeless romantic.  Movies like Love Actually, Serendipity, Return To Me, You've Got Mail make me feel good.  I always hope I'll get to feel that cinema perfect love affair feeling someday, even if it's a total pipe dream.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23.  Aside from threatening someone I love, the fastest way to piss me off is to make me feel like my thoughts or feelings don't matter.  And that's professionally or personally.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24.  I used to be extremely judgmental.  I'd like to think I've gotten lots better, but I may actually only be moderately judgmental now.  :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25.  I'm pretty insecure about my appearance--from my eyebrows that insist on resembling two woolly mammoth caterpillars making out to the crazy hairs that have declared Manifest Destiny and are doing their best to colonize my back down to the size of my dangly wing-wang.  It's more than being a little uncomfortable in my skin due to my excess weight.  It may stem from my childhood--never being good enough and lacking regular praise for what I'd done right.  Who knows.  Maybe it's the impossible standards the media has placed on men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that my friends is 25 things about me.  :)  Post up your own version!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-4260526265399285869?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/4260526265399285869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/25-things.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4260526265399285869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/4260526265399285869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/25-things.html' title='25 Things'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5157821475258297626</id><published>2009-01-23T12:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T12:34:14.711-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parenthood'/><title type='text'>The Rite of Parenthood #5</title><content type='html'>The successful parent understands primary colors and how mixing them may create new colors.  For example, bright yellow breast-milk baby poop applied liberally to a light blue onesie creates a fabulously lime green stain...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5157821475258297626?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5157821475258297626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/rite-of-parenthood-5.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5157821475258297626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5157821475258297626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/rite-of-parenthood-5.html' title='The Rite of Parenthood #5'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-8433949584925830891</id><published>2009-01-23T08:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T08:02:00.371-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><title type='text'>New Mexican Homestead</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAxOvtsEaI/AAAAAAAAAPM/FjFOZNOq8bk/s1600-h/IMG_2582bw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAxOvtsEaI/AAAAAAAAAPM/FjFOZNOq8bk/s400/IMG_2582bw.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291783691556360610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Canon EOS 40d, Canon 17-40mm f/4L&lt;br /&gt;1/160s f/16 at 20mm iso200&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A small farm at the base of Acoma Pueblo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-8433949584925830891?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/8433949584925830891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-mexican-homestead.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8433949584925830891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8433949584925830891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-mexican-homestead.html' title='New Mexican Homestead'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAxOvtsEaI/AAAAAAAAAPM/FjFOZNOq8bk/s72-c/IMG_2582bw.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3213219864166790663</id><published>2009-01-22T19:04:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T19:18:39.603-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>Photo Tag--Or How I Got Outed...</title><content type='html'>So I thought I'd play along with &lt;a href="http://kalamityjane71.blogspot.com/"&gt;Kirsten's&lt;/a&gt; Photo Tag post.  The rules are simple, go to your photo files and post the 4th file, telling the story about the image.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I had resisted posting pictures of myself on this blog.  Not sure why, but I have.  Anyway, my 4th file is a picture of me.  So with no further adieu... here's Drofen:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXkY7vqVA8I/AAAAAAAAAQU/YCBCJ9ysYtg/s1600-h/65112666_S8gJd9j6_RobertSMALL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXkY7vqVA8I/AAAAAAAAAQU/YCBCJ9ysYtg/s320/65112666_S8gJd9j6_RobertSMALL.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294290251636081602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture was taken on a photo excursion to Washington DC.  It unfortunately rained the entire weekend, until it cleared up, right after dark on the final day.  So I did what every good photographer should do.  I went into downtown DC alone after midnight and shot some night pictures.  This picture was taken the morning after, and I'd been up most of the night shooting pictures.  We were sitting in a diner waiting a LONG time to be seated.  I was not thrilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, nice to see everyone.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3213219864166790663?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3213219864166790663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/photo-tag-or-how-i-got-outed.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3213219864166790663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3213219864166790663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/photo-tag-or-how-i-got-outed.html' title='Photo Tag--Or How I Got Outed...'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXkY7vqVA8I/AAAAAAAAAQU/YCBCJ9ysYtg/s72-c/65112666_S8gJd9j6_RobertSMALL.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2222183152885161214</id><published>2009-01-21T10:26:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T10:26:00.447-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Overheard</title><content type='html'>Yesterday afternoon I had the pleasure of calling on the local county Texas Health Dept office for my second Hep B and MMR vaccines.  (Oops, my HIPPA just violated itself.)  During my spa-like 2 1/2 hour visit to get jabbed twice, I overheard the following disgruntled grumblings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hoodlum A:&lt;/span&gt;  "How much you wanna bet we finally get in there and they run out of shots."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoodlum B:&lt;/span&gt;  "If that happens I swear I will burn this place down.  I'm not joking, I'll do it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hoodlum A:&lt;/span&gt;  (Gesturing angrily towards the front desk) "Look at them!  There's 3 of them up there, and only one of them is doing anything!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hoodlum B:  &lt;/span&gt;"Yeah, they sure are working hard at talking though."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hoodlum A:&lt;/span&gt;  "We pay for their salaries, they work for us, they better get off their butts and do something!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and what did these two hostile hoodlums look like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little old blue-haired ladies, complete with bunching pantyhose and shiny black patent leather purses.  Just when I thought I might have to make a run for it to avoid being caught up in a terrorist attack, the conversation turned to the latest Sunday School class gossip instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sign of the times I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2222183152885161214?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2222183152885161214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/overheard.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2222183152885161214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2222183152885161214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/overheard.html' title='Overheard'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-7949942561834237923</id><published>2009-01-21T07:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T07:52:00.136-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><title type='text'>Visiting The Land Of Nod</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAu0Pnms6I/AAAAAAAAAO0/8qDQ1d-ZyBI/s1600-h/IMG_2609.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAu0Pnms6I/AAAAAAAAAO0/8qDQ1d-ZyBI/s400/IMG_2609.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291781037241054114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Canon EOS 40d, Canon 85mm 1.8&lt;br /&gt;1/50s f/1.8 at 85mm iso1600&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-7949942561834237923?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/7949942561834237923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/visiting-land-of-nod.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7949942561834237923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/7949942561834237923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/visiting-land-of-nod.html' title='Visiting The Land Of Nod'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAu0Pnms6I/AAAAAAAAAO0/8qDQ1d-ZyBI/s72-c/IMG_2609.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-3358045759917643988</id><published>2009-01-20T12:23:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T00:40:32.187-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commentary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursing School'/><title type='text'>And So It Begins...</title><content type='html'>Today is January 20, 2009, a day clearly significant in America's political and social landscape. I think it's important to note that the effects of Obama's inauguration travels far beyond the powers of a mere mortal man. You see folks, Obama is but a mortal man, with all the limitations and restrictions inherent. But the nature of the man is not where this phenomenon draws its power. Instead, albeit with no small amount of nudging and campaigning by his organization, America as a whole has taken inspiration in the moment and breathed life into this rallying cry of change. It is the conscious decision of a million individuals. They choose to believe Obama represents change, and in that belief they themselves will catalyze that which they attribute to him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obama is a remarkable man to be sure. He has managed to be enough of all things to enough of all people for enough time to win their allegiance. My only wish is that the American people realize that it &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; the people that have created change, not a candidate turned President.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notably while Obama was being sworn in, I was sitting in my official first class of nursing school (thank goodness for DVRs). Climate of change indeed. I have to say the entire class was depressingly anticlimactic. After the frenetic chaos of pre-class exercises, homework, and reading assignments, lecture was just lecture. And it followed suspiciously along with the assigned reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now here I sit, 80-odd PowerPoint slides behind me, waiting until 1400 for the health dept to accept patients again so I can get my second round of immunizations. The school library is teeming with happily chattering 5th graders...er, college kids. The computers are painfully slow--this keyboard's left hand shift key doesn't work, and the "77777777777777" key sticks. Dr. Ruth's column is still next to the classified ads in the student newspaper, just like it was in 1998 when I first came to this school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a life altering decision to make in the next couple of weeks or so. A decision that could have a lasting impact on my relationship with my older daughter. Prayers for clarity of mind are gratefully accepted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-3358045759917643988?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/3358045759917643988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/and-so-it-begins.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3358045759917643988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/3358045759917643988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/and-so-it-begins.html' title='And So It Begins...'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-5180581168429588535</id><published>2009-01-19T10:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T10:56:01.191-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><title type='text'>Rock Wall Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAv0npF6UI/AAAAAAAAAPE/PwqlFAG4Yb4/s1600-h/IMG_2366.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 262px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAv0npF6UI/AAAAAAAAAPE/PwqlFAG4Yb4/s400/IMG_2366.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291782143201372482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Canon EOS 40d, Canon 17-40mm f/4L&lt;br /&gt;1/800s f/8 at 23mm iso200&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-5180581168429588535?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/5180581168429588535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/rock-wall-tree.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5180581168429588535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/5180581168429588535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/rock-wall-tree.html' title='Rock Wall Tree'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAv0npF6UI/AAAAAAAAAPE/PwqlFAG4Yb4/s72-c/IMG_2366.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-2461120375181219577</id><published>2009-01-19T08:33:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T08:33:00.595-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>Wanted</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXPnM-Igd3I/AAAAAAAAAP0/x0xPzGrRaOA/s1600-h/normal_wanted-nycc_poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 207px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXPnM-Igd3I/AAAAAAAAAP0/x0xPzGrRaOA/s320/normal_wanted-nycc_poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292828197113591666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I watched this movie on Sunday afternoon while the kids were napping.  My wife watched too while playing solitaire on my new PDA. I had wanted to go see this in the theater, but ended up waiting for DVD because I didn't want to waste a date night on this type of film.  So once again, Netflix does the honors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A quick synopsis of the film finds James McAvoy playing a city dweller caught in his own little hell.  Dead-end job, girlfriend that he knows is cheating on him with his best friend.  Enter The Fraternity--a 1000 year old secret society of assassins that take their orders from a magical loom woven by none other than Fate herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plot of the movie is really a cool idea, with so many possibilities.  I guess the movie did a pretty good job of developing the story, and the twist towards the end did catch me off guard.  The viewer definitely should not go into this movie looking for a realistic tale, because this flick is full of curving bullets and fantastic stunts.  But, as unbelievable as it was, I found myself laughing--giggling even--and squirming in my chair in excitement.  This film is an action spectacle, and I found it seriously entertaining.  Even my wife couldn't take her eyes from the screen sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXPnGGIBihI/AAAAAAAAAPs/L9lhtbPtq0g/s1600-h/tn2_james_mcavoy_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXPnGGIBihI/AAAAAAAAAPs/L9lhtbPtq0g/s200/tn2_james_mcavoy_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292828078999964178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The main character is played by James McAvoy and I have to say he's one of my favorite actors.  I was completely blown away with his performance in The Last King of Scotland.  He starts this film more than a little whiny, but as the film progresses the viewer gets to see him grow and come into his own.  In a film where action is the life blood and very little time is spent developing characters, he does a fine job making his character real.  Or at least as real as you can get when your heart rate routinely exceeds 400 bpm allowing you to slow down time and shoot the wings off a fly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXPnALTX5oI/AAAAAAAAAPk/YG8Ol6WTDeo/s1600-h/Angelina-Jolie-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 161px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXPnALTX5oI/AAAAAAAAAPk/YG8Ol6WTDeo/s200/Angelina-Jolie-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292827977310529154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Providing the female eye candy in the film is none other than Angelina Jolie.  She does what she does best.  She's mysterious and graceful and exotically beautiful.  She also kicks a lot of ass in this film adding to the hot factor.  Love her or hate her, most do one or the other, she is a remarkably talented actress.  She changes skin effortlessly as a chameleon--powerful enough for a title role, but exquisitely capable as a supporting actress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morgan Freeman also plays a significant character in the film, but his performance was disappointingly bland, comprising mostly of sitting around and looking thoughtful and wise.  Ho hum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, despite the film's glaring flaws, I found it immensely entertaining.  There is a TON of gratuitous cussing, a couple of scenes of non-nude but obvious sex, and Angelina Jolie's ass crack makes an appearance.  Definite R rating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give the film a B+.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-2461120375181219577?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/2461120375181219577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/wanted.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2461120375181219577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/2461120375181219577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/wanted.html' title='Wanted'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXPnM-Igd3I/AAAAAAAAAP0/x0xPzGrRaOA/s72-c/normal_wanted-nycc_poster.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-8819137471926410810</id><published>2009-01-18T13:16:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T14:19:42.868-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Commentary'/><title type='text'>Why Our Babies Sleep On Their Bellies</title><content type='html'>In my previous post, a picture of our son sleeping, a concerned blog friend mentioned that the current thinking is that sleeping on belly may increase the risk for SIDS.  As with most things, our decision to buck the current medical trend with our children hasn't come lightly, but rather with an extensive survey of the current research and a formulation of my own professional opinion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, here's some ground rules for this post:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  This post is being made with the utmost respect for the person who made the original comment.  (Every time I'm on your page and see the pictures of your little friend my heart breaks a little--I can't imagine the devastation of losing a child.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  This post is a statement of my own opinion.  Albeit my professional opinion and soundly backed with current research, it is still just an opinion.  And as people say, opinions are like bungholes--everyone has got one, and sometimes they stink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Since this is a hot button issue, I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions, but please keep it respectful and friendly--no dog-piling allowed.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing about SIDS is that nobody &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;knows why it happens.  I think this is true for a couple of reasons.  The diagnosis is incredibly broad.  Any otherwise healthy baby that has an unexplained crib death is labeled with SIDS.  My gut instinct is that we are lumping several disease processes together at a minimum.  Secondly, I think the true cause of SIDS is probably multi-factorial.  I think the quick reversal from back to belly to back as the preferred sleep position in such a short time is also indicative of this lack of true understanding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's why we feel safe with our children sleeping on their bellies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  They get regular chiropractic adjustments.  Much of the cutting edge research about the mechanism of SIDS shows that many babies have suffered a malposition or abnormal motion of the upper cervical area of the spine--namely the occiput in relation to C1, and C1 in relation to C2.  The research shows that the upper cervical vertebrae can impinge on the brain stem in the location of the breathing centers.  This is exactly the type of thing I was trained to find, diagnose, and correct in my post-graduate chiropractic work with infants and children.  A simple, safe, non-forceful adjustment can eliminate this lesion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does this lesion happen?  It can be mechanical, possibly from birth trauma--damaged with the forceful twisting and pulling that the modern birth process is known for.  Oh and safe with a C-section?  Actually, no, C-section delivery is often times more forceful than vaginal.  The lesion can also occur in response to toxins in the body or stressful situations--but more about that later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a side note, the research is now showing this exact type of lesion in many Shaken Baby Syndrome cases.  This type of upper cervical lesion has been demonstrated to cause all the tell tale symptoms of SBS.  The strange thing is that it may appear in babies that haven't been shaken, leading to false diagnosis, and false accusations of parents.  Also important to note is that many babies that HAVE been shaken do NOT demonstrate the cardinal signs, leading to missed diagnoses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Our kids aren't inflamed, and therefore at a much lower risk.  Respiration is a parasympathetic process, and in our insane world we are completely sympathetically over-driven.  I hear you now though, "Are you saying even our babies are stressed out?!?"  Well, in a word, I'd say, "Yes."  But not in manner that you might think.  Clearly most babies have it on easy street--eat, sleep, poop, repeat.  But mom's lifestyle while carrying baby directly affects the fetus, so unless mom was chillin at the Zen Spa for 9 months, baby starts life stressed out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now lets look at diet.  Dairy based baby formulas increase inflammation.  That's all there is to it.  They just do, because they are dairy based.  Next, baby gets moved to grain based cereals which is straight up inflammation in a bottle.  And then it's on to whole foods that contain preservatives, pesticides, artificial sweeteners, high fructose corn syrup--all inflammatory.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirdly, I have to mention immunizations, because the undisputed fact is that the contents of immunizations absolutely increase inflammation.  The most common side-effect from vaccines is fever, redness and swelling--3 of the 5 cardinal signs of inflammation.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inflammation can be a good thing--the body is designed to respond that way to speed healing.  The problem is that we never resolve our inflammation these days--it's constant and additive.  The inflammatory responses are intimately connected to the sympathetic nervous system, which in itself inhibits the parasympathetic system.  This isn't cutting edge science here, it's simple physiology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in our case, we work very hard to make sure our kids aren't inflamed.  They aren't immunized so they have normal functioning immune systems.  They breast feed--which is great in two ways--no formula, and breast milk itself reduces inflammation.  When they move to whole foods they eat organic, preservative free food with no artificial sweeteners or high fructose corn syrup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a nutshell, that's why we're comfortable with our babies on their bellies.  They just sleep better that way, and if the major contributing factors to SIDS are reduced, then I don't see the problem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-8819137471926410810?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/8819137471926410810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/why-our-babies-sleep-on-their-bellies.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8819137471926410810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/8819137471926410810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/why-our-babies-sleep-on-their-bellies.html' title='Why Our Babies Sleep On Their Bellies'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4173967129517609098.post-6133774878133992477</id><published>2009-01-17T08:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T08:46:00.314-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Photography'/><title type='text'>Naptime</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAtgbZQSPI/AAAAAAAAAOs/XE7JX7uBzaE/s1600-h/IMG_2604.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAtgbZQSPI/AAAAAAAAAOs/XE7JX7uBzaE/s400/IMG_2604.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291779597293078770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Canon EOS 40d, Canon 85mm 1.8&lt;br /&gt;1/60s f/1.8 at 85mm iso1600&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4173967129517609098-6133774878133992477?l=4thstrike.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/feeds/6133774878133992477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/naptime.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6133774878133992477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4173967129517609098/posts/default/6133774878133992477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4thstrike.blogspot.com/2009/01/naptime.html' title='Naptime'/><author><name>Robert</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/S8nTASxebdI/AAAAAAAAAZs/wGgSuojIPgI/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HUVlcUxBee0/SXAtgbZQSPI/AAAAAAAAAOs/XE7JX7uBzaE/s72-c/IMG_2604.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
