The Hits Just Keep On Coming

Sometimes I wonder how professional boxers do it: just stand there and get hit day after day. Punching, taking a punch, moving, dodging, weaving, and back again for another hit. That kind of cumulative beating has got to take a toll.

I suppose it's a matter of conditioning. You kinda just get used to it. Maybe you just don't notice anymore. Is that what tough is? Somehow I think that's just what numb is.

That's where I find myself today: cumulatively worn down. Physically and emotionally -- just too tired to react. For four weeks I've been both mother and father to the Nodlings while Mrs. Nod recovers from her surgery (only 8 more weeks to go!).

Then my youngest brother, Shoe, lands in the hospital with an apparent stroke. Sudden and unexplained: right-side paralysis, loss of speech, migraine headaches. The family has been up all night providing physical, emotional, and logistical support to his wife and baby and taking turns at Shoe's bedside.  The MRI and brain scans came back clean, so no evidence of an aneurism, arterial dissection, or blot clots in the brain.

Now 24-hours later, he has regained movement and speech, but is still pretty groggy. Doctors still can't tell what's wrong with him, but they are doing a blizzard of tests to find out: seizure? meningitis? West Nile virus? leg blood clots?  It's going to be a few days before we know anything.

Next, I went to the pharmacy to pick up a new prescription for Mrs. Nod, but they didn't receive it. Sorry, Charlie, no meds for you. On my way back, I noticed there was smoke coming out of my car hood. I pulled into a gas station only to find that I lost all my antifreeze (if the explosion of green, sweet-smelling liquid all over my engine block is any indication). Now my car is overheating and the thermostat is pegging in the red. I left it with the garage and hitched a ride home in order to relieve our babysitter for the night. Did I mention I already dropped a boatload of cash to get the van fixed up last week? No? I was doing much better at keeping my whining and moaning to myself last week.

I'm just ready for this week to end. I'm looking forward to a day where nothing much happens. Each day I close my eyes with the hope that tomorrow will be that day.

Sigh.

3½ Time-Outs Tuesday (Vol. 43)

Just like Conversion Diary’s 7 Quick Takes, but half as long and twice as good.

Hosted by Acts of the Apostasy

This is the Mundane is the Salt of the Earth Edition

1

When you work in an office, people can get into the strangest conversations sometimes. The debate today revolved around the question: if someone lends you a dollar to play the lottery and you win, what is your obligation to the guy who lent you the dollar? 

Technically, it's $1, but what about morally? One percent? Ten? Nothing? Does it depend on the amount? What would you do?

I don't know for sure, but I may not be coming in on Monday ...

2

I've been running running the household solo for about 3 weeks now, taking care of a post-surgery Mrs. Nod and 6 Nodlings. (Well, "solo" if you consider both sets of Grandparents, siblings, friends, and people from Church.) Still, it's pretty hectic being both Mom and Dad and I'm more tired than I've ever been. My wife is pretty awesome to be able to do all this on a regular basis.

The Nodlings have been coping fairly well but -- is it just me, or does it seem that if the kids are conscious, they want something? 

Only 9 more weeks of this to go ...

3

The kids have rediscovered the unadulterated fun that is The Muppet Show. I tried to interest them about a year ago and they just. didn't. get. it. Now all of a sudden, they can't get enough of it and are howling with laughter.

I missed Talk Like A Pirate Day again this year (Arrrrrgh!), but enjoy this clip of those original pirates: the Muppet Vikings.

3½

My all time favorite Muppet scene is where Statler and Waldorf say

Overheard In My House

Mrs. Nod is recovering from a surgery and so we arranged for the Deacon to bring her the Eucharist on Sunday.  I told the Nodlings that the King of the Universe was coming to visit.

Five year old Nib got very excited, slapped her hand on her forehead and exclaimed:

Jesus is coming to our house?! I'm going to faint!

I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or be very proud.

How Is This Comfortable?

I love to sneak up on the Nodlings and catch them in their natural habitats.

The picture quality stinks because I was laughing too hard and only had my camera phone, but Nod-girl is listening to some music while planking across the arms of two couches.

How is this comfortable?

Not to be outdone, Dab likes to play in the laundry basket -- cartwheels are a normal way of getting out of a basket, right?

Nub likes soccer and football, but sometimes he is unwilling give up on the play, which leads to this awkward pose ...

Seeds of Sunshine

Unless a grain of seed falls to the ground and dies, it remains but a single seed ...

But if you plant a single sunflower seed you get a Ga-Zillion seeds back! My girl Nib planted these for me. Proud papa!

Look at this awesome haul from a single flower. Sunflowers are long, tall, strong (I actually broke a pair of kitchen scissors trying to cut the head off of a 6 foot stalk!), and beautiful.

They are pure sunshine trapped in a giant body. They always face the morning sunrise as if to say "We were waiting for you!" And once their glory fades, the massive heads droop down heavily as if in exhaustion saying "We lived to the full, there is nothing left." The mirror of the sun's face is dried up, browns, and crumbles away like ashes of a forgotten fire.

But underneath all this is row upon row of beautiful, black-and-white seeds. Their shells are hard and smooth. Take them out, wash them, soak them overnight in salt water, roast them gently -- enjoy the nutty, warm, roasty goodness that are sunflower seeds by the handful.