Tying My Wife's Shoes

She sat in her wheelchair, impatiently yet patiently waiting for me. 

She knew I could only move so fast with her three children, a little one tugging at me and an older one having a fit about how she didn't want to look stupid at church with the wrong kinds of socks and crying about not being able to find any.  The oldest groaned about getting up early, heaving those heavy sighs around the house indicating he wasn't happy to have to do this or anything.

I let the complaints wash over me and enjoyed the little one tugging at me as I tended to my work. 

As I unlaced the shoes, her legs, that once had gone hiking with me, had taught me to dance, had gone for walks on the beach, now hung emaciated, blood pooling in her legs from lack of use, and immobile and essentially...useless.  All they could be used for now really was to wear shoes, and that was just so they wouldn't get colder than they already were from not getting any use.

Shoes.

She used to wear nice shoes. 

She used to love nice shoes.

Now, shoes were just a matter of convenience really.  A burden, really.  She couldn't put them on herself much anymore except for her crocks and even then required help.  They were just one more item in a long list of items that needed to be taken care of that she couldn't do herself anymore as she increasingly became helpless.  As she watched me work with her shoes, she not only saw me prep to put them on her for her, she also saw the years rendering her entirely immobile, confining her to a bed, to watch her children come and go but not be able to share those experiences with them because she couldn't follow them or keep up with them anymore.

If her back or even her legs itched?  She couldn't scratch it anymore.  Those days were gone as the disability ravaged her body from its own effects in combination with three child births.  Now, even putting on shoes was its own exasperation.  Those little things you take for granted, that you don't even think about, but will notice if they aren't done right such as the sock seam running under a toenail, or the tongue of the shoe not being properly positioned, the laces snugged just right...can't be done herself anymore. And nice shoes? She's down to two pairs of crocks and a pair of black Nike Jordan's with pink hearts on them, cute, but totally not the style she ever wore and just a matter of convenience.  On the upside, shoes never need be replaced because she doesn't wear them out.  The same pair, year after year after year.

And out of her love she didn't dare complain, she was just happy not to have been abandoned as happened to so many with her disease.  Husbands who decided this was more of a burden than they could carry, served divorce papers, took the children, and placed them in nursing homes to atrophy and die.

It isn't perfect but we figure it out, forgive, repent, apologize, press forward and try to make it the best we can. 

What lies ahead in the years to come, I don't know.

Helpless doesn't even begin to describe how I feel as I have to do more and more just to make life functional.  Becoming aware of how she likes her socks put on so that they don't drive her crazy, paying attention to tags that she can no longer fix that itch and drive her crazy, learning how to part her hair so she doesn't feel like a freak in public with that annoying part-gone-awry that drives so many of us nuts before we leave the house....

How does it end? 

I don't know.

Overwhelmed?  Yeah.  And starting a new career and raising three children while I have to leave her at home now and even leave her behind as I head across the state to start working a job to earn pay for us to move into a new place by my new work.  The world rushes around me and yet I have no idea how I am going to make it work.

Peoples' criticisms of me or even of her fall on deaf ears anymore for how hard we do or don't work at this or make it work.  It is our own path that others haven't walked.  Even if the path looks similar, we are different people carrying our own hidden burdens.  We each have to walk our own path the best we can. 

Walk a mile in someone elses' shoes?  It isn't possible.  It never will be. 

I don't have energy to try someone elses' shoes, or even to criticize their footwear.  I got my own path to walk, with my wife rolling beside me with three children in tow, an uncertain path ahead of us that doesn't look too favorable.  Whether you are grateful or not, or think your path is harder or easier....it doesn't matter, except I wish you well. I have to focus on the path ahead of us, and I don't have energy to do much else and hope that I don't slow others down from their important journeys in this world.

For now, I focus on making the laces "just right" because she can't do it herself.  I pull the tongue out and turn her socks so the seam doesn't bother her as her feet prepare to hang uselessly and untended for the rest of the day as the world and we march on our way while she sits in maddening discomfort that even medication can't fix most days for those little things she can't do herself anymore.

Curse the disability?  It doesn't do much good.  I've tried.  It is still there.  I'm still here.  We're still here.  But not as much as we used to be.  And yet more than we used to be as we become grateful for those small details we used to take for granted, thankful for them when we get to enjoy them.

So I focus for now, just for a moment, and let the world go on its merry way because I have work to do and its more important than almost anything right now.  I don't know how I'll do what else is going to come, and nothing else matters but for just this moment, I'm tying my wife's shoes.

Christmas Trains & Childhood Memories of Pennies

Despite whatever regrets I may have about childhood, one thing my dad was good at was being a kid.  I never met either of my grandpas, but I understand they were pretty good at it too.  I'm talking about being kids - not grown idiots that get arrested and set a bad example and act like they are 13 - kids.

Like having fun or doing the things a kid would want to do.

So for Christmas, dad wouldn't spend a bunch of money on the big gifts, but would get me a bunch of small gifts - like dollar store gifts by the boat-load with a few big ones mixed in.  It was a great way of stretching the dollar and maximizing Christmas.  Things like "Flippy subs" and "Jacobs ladders" as well as balsa airplanes were pretty standard fare - and a lot of fun.

But the one thing I really wanted?  An electric train set.  I was fascinated with trains since our trip to Canada back in 1980 when during the whole drive up and back we saw trains that stretched for well over a mile.  I suppose Oaks Amusement Park having a mini-train that I rode on every year at the Portland Police Picnic and just went round and round on contributed.  But a train set in the mind of a child isn't a toy.  It's REAL.  Just as real as a real one.  And I wanted one.  My parents bought me lots of little substitutes from that time to placate me but nothing would do but a REAL train set. And I knew just the man who could get me one.

So I went to see Santa.....


And I told him what I wanted - an electric train set.....

He said he'd see to it....

And Christmas came.....

And Christmas went...

And there was no train set.....

Apparently Santa AND my parents didn't think I was big enough for one yet.  I was maybe five or so.

I was pretty heart broken.  I don't know how this Santa stuff works, but he HAD to know I wanted one and would be responsible with it.  More than that kid and his Red Ryder BB Gun on TV anyways, though this was before he came around....I thought Santa knew everything???

In psychology studies it's been demonstrated that our personalities are very largely similar in childhood as they are when we are adults - looking back at the encounter to follow, I think I can definitely see some similarities - both in reasoning and in...um....oratorical wit for a six year old - which hasn't really stopped when I get fired up even today.

Another year passes and mom takes me down the Oregon City Shopping Center to see Santa again.

My turn comes....

Santa sits there with his arms out telling me it is my turn....

I stand there with my hands on my hips and a scowl on my face....

Mom gives me a bit of a nudge....

So Santa asks me what I want for Christmas from where he sat rather than waiting for me...

And I stood there refusing to move and reply with all the irritation that a 6 year old can muster up without being a spoiled brat quite yet "I want the train set you didn't bring me LAST year!"

Santa's mouth almost dropped and he stopped looking at me.

His eyes narrowed and his gaze shifted up from my six year old frame and turned to a glare at my mother standing next to me who suddenly wasn't next to me and was acting like I wasn't her kid and she was shocked some kid would be so mouthy to Santa.

At any rate, that year - the train set was delivered.  It was there Christmas morning.  Completely set up.  It was an O-Scale steam engine complete with a logging mill and in a giant four foot by six foot wooden box, green grass felt and the entire thing could be picked up and put against the wall if it needed to be put away in one move.

And.....there was my dad and my uncle Randy playing with MY train set!

THE AUDACITY!

That evening when the grandmother and great grandmother came over - I heard how my dad's own train set got violated by his dad and uncles as well.  Must be a family thing.  I was told that Santa asked Dad to test it for me and make sure it worked, just like Santa asked Grandpa to test dad's.

O gauge track

"Well, if SANTA said you could play with it then I guess it's okay.  I mean, he did bring it after all....I'm not gonna argue with Santa...."

At any rate, the O-Scale train was a lot of fun. But I still wanted more.  A "REAL" looking train set - not the "three-railed" O-scale set - I wanted two rails, not three.

So, since income as a seven year old is difficult to come by - I didn't get paid to do chores because I was expected to do chores, and I was too young to mow lawns, I had to find another way to get the train set sooner than Santa would bring it and without having to bug mom and dad for the money.

What to do...what to do....?

Then, my second grade class had a pinata for a party.  We were to all bring a bit of candy and a penny or a few nickles or something in it.

We all got to smash at it with a stick and I learned a few things: One - you don't want to be the person who breaks it open because then you don't see where the goods go.  Second - there's other things more important in this world than candy.  There was cash in that pinata.  Cash in the form of pennies and nickels, dimes and some quarters.

I was small but I was fast.  I was in that circle and I went after the cash as fast as my little arms could go.  The other kids were so stupidly and naively attracted to the candy.  Foolish, foolish children.  There was money to be made here.  Worked for me though! 

HO scale track

In a few moments I literally had a mound of pennies and nickels.

Not just a mound - I had about $30 or $32 dollars in pennies!

That's about 3,200 pennies.

Do you know what about 3,200 pennies looks like or feels like exploding over a crowd of school kids from a pinata?  Its kind of dangerous.  But the danger that makes the more timid souls run for cover bought me time.

When it was over, I sat guarding this massive pile of pennies and had a tootsie roll, a piece of bubble gum and that was it.  Oh, and a butt-load of money for a 7 year old.

When the kids realized what my plan was and that they had the candy and I literally had the biggest pile of money any of us had seen - one of them told me I *HAD* to give them some.

Huh HAH!  Not without a price.  This is where I began being a salesman.

Two pieces of candy for a penny - which is a better deal than just getting it for free. 

So now I'm selling money for candy at far-below-market value (of Candy that is).

The trip home on the bus found me with a paper grocery bag on the seat next to me full of cash and me with a smug grin on my face.  Visions of steam engines danced in my head.  Soon I would have my wish. 

At any rate, I got to buy my HO scale (two rails, not three) train set, but the problem was there wasn't enough room to put it anywhere in the house permanently.  So dad took a 4'x8' piece of plywood and ran four ropes to the four corners and up to a pulley system on the garage ceiling that went to a boat winch.  Now my train set could come down from the ceiling to play and be put up for storage - no problem.

I wish I could say I took good care of the train set, but boys will be boys.  Lots of experiments with collisions and running them off cliffs as well as just use took their toll over the years though I did develop some really nice sets as well.  I learned about electricity and not shocking myself as well as came to loathe electricity.  But besides my bike growing up - probably nothing holds as many wonderful, concentrated and real memories as my train sets.

I never did become an engineer like I wanted to.  I think I'm getting too old to now and I'm on track becoming a psychologist - but for all intents and purposes I was an engineer of the HO-Scale variety.

I think it must be time for my son to get his own train set and me to play with it to test it out first and defile it before he gets to play with it and make a deal with Santa that I'm to test it out.

Second Chances.....and unbelievable miracles.....

On June 5th my wife had a miscarriage and we lost our child.

Despite all this, I felt like something was incomplete and that the child was to be born to us - maybe to have a second chance or sometime in the future but I didn't know how it was going to work out.  Something just felt not right and even the priesthood blessing indicated that this child was to be born to us though I didn't know how.

Jen's been miserable for about a week and a half. I've struggled as well.  Unable to part with a baby bassinet and the baby clothes they've been shuffled around the house for a  bit now, awkwardly and yet still uncertain of what to do with them.

Last night I asked her if her uterus was cramping and she replied "You mean the tomb?" Not knowing what to say, I could only reply to it with my dry humor and say "You mean your coffin?"    I got a dry "ha ha" to that.  Not fun times, but we tend to be more stoic as a family after all we've endured.

At any rate, she's been cramping more lately and we had to go to the doctor to find out if there was anything left behind and whether we had to remove a dead and decomposing fetus from inside her.

Today, we went to the doctor for the ultrasound and she was cramping and did not want to go to the appointment.  I couldn't just send her alone, so I went.

We finally got in and the moment of horror arrived where they actually started looking around.  Kind of horrified at what I'd see, I waited with a bit of resignation.

Finally they found it, I saw its ribcage and its little body laying sideways inside her.   The ultrasound technician said "Um....yah.....you got a complete baby in here......."

Jen sagged on the table.  It was awful to think that entire thing was going to have to come out....arms, legs, head and everything....

The ultrasound technician wiggled the instrument around and continued "And a beating heart!  You have a live baby in there!"

Jen and I tous ensemble:"WHAT?"

"Its alive!"

"Are you serious???"

"Yes!"

"No way!  Wait....WHAT?  It's alive?"

"Yes!  With a healthy heartbeat!  158 beats per minute! Going strong!"

Jen began to sob uncontrollably and was completely overwhelmed.  I was in shock and had to look at the screen again and again and again.  There was our baby, looking at us, and I could see the heart beating on the screen.

The technician put the heartbeat on the monitor so we could hear it, there it was so strong again and still.  A lot less space than before it looked like but there it was.

Wait....WHAT???

Jen was still losing it but in a good way.

Texts went out to friends and family who were stunned as we were.

Okay, so my child's been dead nearly two weeks, and today I find out that it's still alive.......I didn't know what to think or what to feel - so much all at once!

I know I want the child and am absolutely stoked, but I feel like I'm on my fourth child because I already lost my third and this is a new one!  I still know what it's like to lose a child....so surreal.  And now....I have my child "back."

The news spread fast and my sister in law accidentally spilled the beans to our kids before we got home but they were excited.  Probably the only bummer out of this was that we didn't get to tell them ourselves.

But Matthew's going to be an even bigger brother and Rachel will finally be a bigger sister.  Out of it all?  I know I want this child.  I know what I'm capable of as a father and that I can do this in our circumstance.  I came to value my children even more and became way more tolerant of their "little kid-ness" and essentially I feel like I was given a chance that we just don't ever get in life.  Not one I've heard of anyways. Ever.

I am reminded of the sacrifice of Abraham with his son Isaac and can only say that I'm grateful to know I can pass through something like this and not turn away from God, though it wasn't fun, the reality?  Hasn't quite set in yet. 

God truly does have His hand on me.  I've seen too many miracles to doubt His presence or His love.

But as for today?  The single most miraculous and surreal day of my life.  Ever. 

Now....I guess I need to go finish that baby bassinet that I saved.  I can still look forward to the baby clothes being tried out for Christmas.  What a day.

Thank you all for your prayers and love.  I have no doubt that you had a part in this wonderful miracle of miracles.

Thank you all, and God bless.

Thank you again, and God bless you again and again.

Life's crumbs....and shattered windows.....

This morning we lost our son-to-be in a miscarriage.

My wife awoke me at 5 am saying she was bleeding.  I got up, looked around and began to race to get dressed.  We called to find out if there was an ER in Redmond, the kids got up fairly quickly and Heaven blessed me to be able to put her in the van quite easily.   

Before we left, I asked her if she wanted me to give her a blessing.  She said yes.  I gave her a blessing by the authority and power of the priesthood which I hold, and I could feel that this wasn't going to be though I didn't dare accept it and hoped against hope that what I saw and felt as I gave the blessing wouldn't come to pass and that there might remain some chance of things turning around, and yet I was promised something would come to pass in the future with another child. 

It was comforting again when the military training comes out and I'm quite comfortable and trained to safely drive in an emergency - fortunately at 6am on a Sunday in a rural town, there isn't much traffic and the streets were empty. As we drove she informed me she was beginning to cramp.

We arrived at the ER in about 7 minutes or less, we were the only ones there...and Jen was quickly quickly taken in the back.  The kids and I sat out in the waiting room as they weren't prepared to handle mom, dad and two kids with a bunch of work to do.

I asked if I could go see her after a while, they said "They are doing okay, you can go back in a while." 
"They."   In these times of crisis your mind hangs on every word, every nuance to see meaning and ascertain how things go.  Friends texted me to tell me that from their experiences there was still a good chance - I hoped for the best.

When I was finally allowed back in, the nurse's attendant didn't say a word but walked back fairly lightly - more meaning inferred - wondering - wandering - waiting.   When I got back to Jen and we finally had time to talk, Jen asked me what I saw by the priesthood.

The priesthood is an amazing gift that God has given to man again in these latter days - by it God can and often does show us the future, the past, things that are, things that could be and God again speaks to man by it through the Holy Ghost - just as it was in Times of Old.

I told her that I felt it wasn't going to be good.

To me it felt as if our child had chosen not to come here yet for various reasons and had decided to wait for another time though there might be a future time.  Heaven and earth are indeed connected, but both of them have their own plans and designs, with Heaven often waiting on the desires of mankind and men's choices, and Earth waiting on the timing, plans, laws and designs of God.  In it all it is up to us to do our best to try to understand and be receptive to what comes as we try to listen to what is being whispered to us through the Spirit. 

She told me it was going to be a while and that I should take the kids to get breakfast.  I grabbed McDonald's with the kids and headed back to the Emergency Room.

When I asked if I could see Jen,they took me back.  I asked her what was going to happen.  She told me that they had already taken it out of her and it was dead.  We had lost our baby.

I lost it.   I asked her if she had seen it....what happened?

Just the other week he was so strong, I watched him do a "trampoline like bounce" inside mom and had his hands near his face with its thumb in its mouth.  The heartbeat was 160 or something like that.  And now....when it came out, it wasn't even recognizable.

When we finally got cleaned up to go, I told the kids we had lost their baby brother.  It wasn't until I mentioned that we didn't need the handcrafted bassinet I made that Matthew suddenly realized we weren't going to be having a baby.  He began to cry.  I handed him some tissues and he was sobbing about how we weren't going to have a baby - he wanted to be a big brother and was getting excited about the idea.

As we drove away, I felt so empty.  Nothing.  This was it?  I didn't get a certificate, a name, a headstone, a funeral, a memorial, a program for a memorial service......nothing.  We just drove away.  I never got to see my son.  I couldn't live like this.  No.  It couldn't end this way.

My mind began arguing that we were still having a baby on December 8th!  I realized I had to go back to say goodbye to it.

Were I not a psychology major having been trained in loss and grief, I don't know that I could handle this.  This wasn't something I wanted to do but I had to do.  There had to be some note of closure.  This was all too fast.  I asked Jen if I could turn around and go back.  We did. 

I walked into the hospital and asked if I could see the nurse and told her I needed to see what was left of my son.  I couldn't walk away with nothing and just have a trip to the ER and have it be over and not know...not see....not have anything.   She took me into a room, and the nurse brought me a container and explained to me what it was and there really wasn't much there that was distinguishable. 

I actually clutched the remains in the container to my chest sobbing "all I wanted to do was to hold you."  I was able to make out what would have become soft, soft baby skin wanting lotion and needing patting.  Just yesterday, I was at a beach with my children and asking the other children they played with what their names were as I got ideas for names.  And now....on our anniversary vacation.....nothing.

I finally left, my children have never seen dad cry and I cried on the drive back to the resort.  The sunrise on the mountains, on Sisters was beautiful, and I couldn't help but think just as we lost someone, someone else was being born today, to others this was an ordinary day....so many kinds of days and it was only 9am.

I got to the resort and informed them that I needed new linens for the bed.  They offered to take them up.  There was a lot of blood on the bedding and I didn't want some staff hauling away what little remained from the hopes of my infant son, I told them I would prefer to take it myself and I broke down and told them I had lost my son this morning. 

When we got back, Jen asked me to go make the bed before she got in there, I did however ask the children to help me make the bed.

Death is a stranger in America.  It is the only thing that awakens us from the American dream (My own quote from my studies in the psychology of loss and grief).  We run from it, shield our children from it, and avoid it and spend less time mourning than about any industrialized nation.  It wasn't always so, but the last 70 years in the US have seen our attitudes towards death change.  As my daughter came in she asked me why there was blood in the bathroom, I told her that was from the baby, and then she saw Matthew and I changing the linens and it hit her as well.

She hasn't cried, and Matthew is doing well, though I am a wreck. Jen called her sister who's had more miscarriages.  I have baby pictures from ultrasounds, a very lovingly handcrafted baby bassinet I made out of wood, and a little baby duck outfit for a newborn hanging on our bedroom door - all awaiting something to be done with them.

I'm grateful this happened at a resort rather than in my bedroom where I feel like it's a room of death.  Though the room did feel like death when we returned to it.

I texted my supervisor to tell her I might be requesting extra days off because I was supposed to go back to work on Wednesday.  I can't.  I mean I could, but that day I have to sit through a meeting with a supervisor above her that I don't really have any respect for and who's really crossed some lines at work that I'm still trying to decide what to do with.

As far as blessings go?  There's a tendency in America for Americans to be unempathetic towards those who've suffered loss.  People rush to tell you how it's a good thing, to see the blessings in it - as if someone's loss is a threat to their emotional well being and people can't just let you be sad.  We need to be sad.  Even Christ said "blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."  This is true.  Unless we mourn, we cannot be fully comforted.   I believe there are 316 standard phrases used in the American lexicon that we say to those who are mourning, and only 44 of them are encouraging, uplifting or supportive.  The remainder dismiss or disenfranchise the grieving.

For now I will just mourn and pass through this.  My children are beautiful and I love them and just now as I am writing, my darling daughter came to show me her latest ponytail venture with one hanging off her forehead and another off her left hear with those beautiful blue eyes.  My son, ever so stoic is just working on a popsicle.

At any rate, family was called and it was offered to have the kids gone so my wife and I could spend time together.  Absolutely not. I just lost a child.  I want my kids close even if we drive each other nuts.

I do feel angels around me.  Something I can sense and sometimes see.  The ones I see right now are "older" men, wise men, kindly gentlemen who are just here to be a comfort but who share my loss - quiet men who lend support.

How can Heaven mourn for us when Heaven sees the end from the beginning and live amidst such joy incomprehensible, and yet their hearts be here with us and cry when we cry, hurt when we hurt?  Its something I don't understand other than to think that a loving Heavenly Father is truly mindful of us and truly does understand us.

To "Baby Millican" who wasn't born or even fully named, we loved you though we hadn't met you and we hope that we shall yet meet you and I shall do my best as a father if Heaven and Earth combine to bring you to us once again, and to Heaven.....thank you for the gift of being able to understand others who've walked where I am now walking.

The valley of sorrow is indeed deep and long and dark and even dangerous if we stay there too long, and the corner we have just turned is a previously unknown crevice in the valley we hadn't been to before. 


But I thank Heaven for the perspective of the restored gospel and the knowledge of the purpose of this life to give us comfort in these times of sorrow that Christ himself said must needs come and for which this earth was designed.

For now, I shall close.  I'm not ready to say goodbye yet and I have hopes for one more but for now, I'm going to close. 


Thank you all and God bless.

Thank you again.  And God Bless again and always.

Ant Farm:Day 4/5

These ants suck.  They don't do anything.  They hang out in the wood hole for the skybridge - about the most entertainment I get is blowing them out of the hole from the tube and watching them charge back into the hole and then realize it just blasted them out - get second thoughts - run away - not know what to do except hang out in the hole - run back - remember getting blown out - run away - over and over again.  Its mildly amusing.  I think I'll seal it up a  tiny bit better and let the harvester ants go to work when they get here......

Ant Farm! Day 2!

Okay...so I think the ants in the "farm" aren't the "digging" type of ants.  I think we got a few different types in there too.  But they just pass by each other.  I tried to give them a hint by digging a hole with a knitting needle - but...to no avail.  They spend a LOT of time preening their antennae too.  I know ants are typically female but these are like high-maintenance-lazy ants.

So the big ones just hang out in the tunnel....the little one I think got drunk on fermenting Twinkie and is just sitting on it moving rreeeeaaaallllll slow and just looks....drunk / stoned....so far not much happening.

I just ordered some harvester ants from www.antsalive.com.

ANT FARM! Wood Shop! Do it yourself!

So - we got a bit of an ant problem in our house....which the kids have resorted to catching them, with my son putting them in the "cockpits" of lego-spaceships he was building so you could see them through the windows of the spaceships. We had our own full blown ant-air-force/space-force around here as he had a good ten or so with two and three ants apiece in them.

Ants are pretty darned cool, when you're five.  So for a get-together with my mom at a restaurant, my kids decided to give her a "present" of a lego-space-ship with ants in it.  At the dinner table.  In the restaurant. I had no idea.  Of course the lego-space-ship broke apart and the ants "got out" and my kids were scurrying around on the floor of the restaurant looking for the ants while my mom's freaking out wondering what she just got dumped on her.  


Anyways, a trip to the science store showed ant-farms were $32 for ONE - and a large one?  $45!!!!  Mmmmmm - no.   Not when dad can make them at home.  A trip to Lowes Hardware store and one more to Home Depot for $25 for four plates of acrylic, two 2"x3"x8' (Y'all reading overseas or even to our north or south...okay - NON americans - I don't know what that is in metrics - if you must convert it you can do it here ) and voila I had two that were way bigger for less AND I got an excuse to use my tools....ahhhhhh to be a man and create with my hands.  I just gotta build.....something about when I'm done having something behind I can see and touch and hold. 

The hardest part was I don't have a table saw (or a radial arm saw) but I do have a circular saw.  So - I needed to cut grooves to insert/recess the acrylic into which normally on a table saw you'd just drop your blade down and then run your wood across.  I had to get creative with a handy portable workbench dad gave me and a block of wood to run the circular saw across it - but other than that - it was pretty easy.  If anyone wants to see it - here it is below in photos you can click on and embiggen.

looks like a kitchen...acts like a workshop...

sawdust on the floor freshening the air in the house...

the first two pieces together with clear acrylic in between

1/2" x 3/8" "doorway" to the "skybridge" I built in the exotic ant-mansion

Two ends on....

Project complete on the kitchen counter with West Wing and East Wing visible

exotic sky-bridge with a commanding view of the sugar-jar and Mountain Dew Repository - every Ant's dream!

there's actually an ant in there...with a science experiment in the background - Oh Horror of Horrors! 

These are the ants that were diverted from the Space Program to a work-camp. 

ahhhhh....kitchen floor mess....

brave trooper - I named her "Sojourner" - exploring the ant-mansion.

Actually....she hung out there for 20 minutes preening her antannae....it was kind of annoying....maybe she was enjoying the view of the sugar jar...

project fully separated apart....

individual ant-mansion unit - this is the West Wing - cost for one? $12.50 and some nice memories

It was funny tonight as we had family prayer and I thought of all the things I've built for our family.  Beds.  Modifications to the cars.  Ant farms.  More beds.  Shelves....nothing too fancy but still its nice to be able to build with my hands....   I did clean the kitchen up though with the new vacuum.....

I hope these are the kinds of ants that dig and not just the types that run around.....if they are the kind that just run around but don't dig I might have to order some kick-ass ants to dump in there and eat their sorry behinds and dig some tunnels....

Letter from Tony Snow

 Tony Snow June 1, 1955 – July 12, 2008

I used to listen to Tony Snow when he was a radio show host.  He had a great sense of humor and an easy style that I just enjoyed and came to love when he hosted for Rush.

I have a letter from Tony Snow, an email, to me that he sent me after I wrote him wishing him well in his cancer recovery.  The email is dated 8/10/07 to me.

But, I have some collections from the world's notables in my files - this is just one of the e-versions, I thought I'd post it.

I told him I was praying for him and wished him well, and this is his response.  He didn't mention my name in it, but that's okay - it was to my email personally. I just thought I'd share something I got from a man I admired who once represented our country and share his faith in God.

THE WHITE HOUSE Washington Thanks so much for the kind note - and for including me in your thoughts and prayers. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you thinking of me and raising my name in prayer. Prayers have enormous power. They're good medicine - and they certainly have lifted my spirits. I feel as if I have been borne on the shoulders of thousands of friends, all of whom have made the ride easier than I ever could have imagined. We're blessed to live in a land where people just want an excuse to do something good for someone else. Thanks for taking advantage of that opportunity with me. Please encourage others to do it closer to home for other friends in need. Kind words, notes, emails, and small gestures have a way of lightening the load, while making our own lives richer and more rewarding. Again, thanks for the incredible gift of caring. God bless, TONY SNOW 

Mixing Beta Fish With Other Fish......a fish story.....

I bought another beta fish the other day.  A moontail beta.  I named him "M."  He almost looks like this one here.   However, among my fish in the tank I have one fantail goldfish and several comets and some glass catfish.

At any rate, the conventional wisdom is that you don't mix betas with regular fish.  Why?  Betas pick on everything in the tank that's not themselves. 

So I mixed my beta, "M," in with the other fish.  First few minutes, M wasn't really getting along with everybody.  The other fish were WAYYYYYY to friendly and were invading M's personal space trying to meet him.  M kinda went ballistic for a while, flipping out and fanning himself out as shown here until they kind of all went "Whoah....who's the new guy.....lighten up dude...." and gave him some space.


The next day, the rest of my fish didn't seem as chipper anymore.  Normally they are as happy as dogs when the master gets home, wagging their tails and begging for food.  Now that M was in the house, they kind of hung out at the bottom not really excited about anything - almost as if they'd had the party sucked out of them and they had to revert to their primeval instincts of watching not to get their tails kicked.   They hung about on the bottom near the plants, watching in case food came near them but not actively looking for it anymore.

Meanwhile, M found a few plants and wedged himself in a corner and just hung out by himself and went on a few patrols around his bush and marked his territory.  I did catch him picking on the snail, who's name is "Speedy," at one point but the snail said "Forget this" and pulled her antennae in and dropped off the glass to the bottom and tried to look like a rock where M wouldn't find her.


The next day, one very small comet was dead.  It was like a runt anyways though.  While the other comets got bigger, this one actually shrank over time it seemed.  It was like a head with fins and a spine.  So I wasn't surprised to see its tail chewed a bit and M had done it in apparently.  I wasn't sure if this was a good idea now.  I've had a beta before and eventually they all got along but that was a female.  This was a male.  The big fantail goldfish is way bigger than M but M can do a great job fanning himself out in a vibrant display of color and size.


Today, everyone seemed back to normal.  Maybe the other fish were sad the comet was dead.  M was even near the others by about 2 inches and they ate together.  If the other comets got too close M would fan out a little bit but not too much and everyone seemed to get along.   You really can mix betas and other fish!  I think you just have to have a bit bigger fish to show the beta who's boss and give everyone some plants to hide behind and give them some time (to kill off the weaker more wimpier ones).   Isn't that called Darwinism?

Pictures - Some Mine - Some Others

I took a few of these with my camera - I took the others from the web

About Me

I'm a convert to the LDS church of 18 years now (at the time of this writing) from the Catholic Church.  I still admire the Catholic church as it prepared me well for the LDS doctrine - concepts such as authority, order and reverence - a universal doctrine - all made sense to me.

I always wanted to know the truth, and was baptized at age 18 the same week I shipped out for the US Navy.

Later I served a mission in the Baton Rouge Louisiana Mission from 2000-2002.    It was an amazing time.

Now I'm a father working on becoming a doctor of psychology and rather enjoying myself with our three children and my wife.   For now I blog on the LDS doctrines here and there in this blog.

I hope you enjoy.