"The Muffled Cries For Help From a Daddy of Four Beautiful Little Girls"

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

What Kind of Pumpkin Are You Anyway?

Working with children on a regular basis, I have to be quick on my feet as well as be able to translate thoughts and ideas into the language of preschoolers.
I greeted a few classes who came to our church's pumpkin patch this week. As I introduced them to several varieties of pumpkins and gourds, we noted that some were tall or short, dark or light, thin or plump, bumby or smooth. Just like us.

God made us all so very different and special.

That's the preschool version.

Not surprisingly, not a lot of high school classes (zero, specifically) visit our patch of pumpkins. But if they were to come, here's the life lesson from the pumpkins they'd receive:

You see, we're all like these pumpkins. Some of you look really nice on the
outside, all hairsprayed up and using fancy things like jewelry, fleece jackets
and deodorant, but inside you're just as seedy and slimy as the next guy. See
that rotted one over there? That's like those of you tinkering with crystal
meth. You'll just end up with moldy soft spots on your sides and you'll start
seeping orange goo. Actually, I don't know the specifics of the side effects
from meth use, but that's probably pretty close.

So, as you can tell, it's probably good that I've stopped using that lesson with the preschoolers after the first class and decided to save it for older kids.

Welcome to the Pumpkin Patch!

(P.S. If you're interested in our patch and want to do your own as a fundraiser, email me and I'll hook you up with our pumpkin people.)

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Costumes By MacGuyver

Well, I feel kind of obligated to write a little about politics and such here in the next couple of days based on exit polls from the early absentee commenters on the previous post.

I'll try to temper it at least a little so as not to be so flippant about some serious subjects as I was yesterday.

But that's not to say I'm going to be all the way serious. After all, how can you look at the political landscape this election season and not at least giggle slightly, or possibly even chortle heartily?

But I'll talk about that stuff later. I'm in the mood for less cerebral fare at this particular moment. We're gearing up for a party tonight, and the kids are hunting down "costumes."

I put costumes in quotes, because some would argue that these are not so much costumes as they are fashion experiments gone horribly awry.

Our kids are realists. They are under no delusion that Mom or Dad are going to be sewing a tail on a tutu or spray paint a robot-box silver. They know that they're on their own to see what crawls out of their closet at the last minute.

This is why Shelby was contemplating dressing as a "Hershey's Kiss Basketball Player." See, we already own basketball uniforms AND aluminum foil for making a Kiss-shaped hat with a strip of paper sticking out saying "Hershey." Genius! (With a hint of "weird.")

Brynne is going as a "School Girl." For that, she only needs to find clothes that one might wear to school. Plus she'll carry a backpack for candy.

If it's wrong not to stay up all night making fairy wings, pirate peg legs and victorian corsets, then I don't WANT to be right.

Are you with me on this?

Friday, October 24, 2008

I'm Scott, And I Approve This Message

It can be really tacky to get all political in your blog, doncha think?

After all, blogs are out there for anyone to read. Who knows what a reader's personal stance is on the political subjects of the economy, abortion, war and white shoes after labor day?

So we gladly write daily about our personal feelings about cheese, sports teams, chocolate, music, and such...and most of us steer clear of mentioning politics.

I was about to write a generic non-partisan post about the joys of voting, but then I remembered,

Hey, this is MY blog. I can write about anything in the world I want. If I want to write about how much I love Velveeta, I can, even though countless readers will no longer want to be my bff.

AND if I want, I can write about how much I adore various candidates and I hope they get elected so they can ensure more unborn American babies will never see the light of day, or if they DO see any light, it may only be that hazy glow through mommy's skin before those nice American doctors jam scissors to puncture a hole in their heads so their brains can be damaged and sucked out so mommy won't have to drop out of school or tell the father or postpone the cruise to Cozumel.

I could write about THAT, but I probably WON'T, since I was being sarcastic about supporting anyone who'd permit infanticide. [If your sarcasm-meter was already switched off for the weekend, you might want to fire it up to re-read that long sentence masquerading as a paragraph.]
What do YOU think? Should I reveal my surprisingly shocking political views in my HoneyIFedTheKids kind of way?

Or should I discuss how awesome it would be to get a killer cheese sauce flowing through one of those chocolate fountains?

Or both? (Seperately of course, unless Sarah Palin has strong feelings about cheese fountains...which we all have to admit is a possibility.)

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Stomach Pump Optional

Perhaps you considered giving me a hard time for yesterday's post on eating Spaghettios unheated straight from the can.

Maybe you lost all respect for me as a serious chef.

Well, let me just copy and paste a little email I received from my wife. She sent me to the store late in the evening for ingredients she'd need for a breakfast casserole.

Evidently, they're feeding the bus drivers at school tomorrow.

It also appears that they may not be driving much longer once you read the ingredients Cindy sent me for:

"laundry detergent
cheddar cheese
either hashbrowns or sausage (I hate frying sausage, but if you want to...)"

Yes, out of concern for the health of the bus drivers, I picked up the FAT FREE laundry detergent, thank you.

Cindy is trying to remember if it's 2 TABLEspoons of Tide or 2 TEAspoons.

Oh, and I simply bought precooked sausage links to chop up. I didn't feel like frying sausage at 10:00 p.m. either.

Here In Spirit

Yesterday was a 9-Year-Old's birthday at our house.

Every birthday till now, we'd been able to count on a birthday card coming from BuddyPa (the girls' great-grandpa). However, since his death a few weeks ago, we prepared ourselves for that odd and very real void that is felt at holidays when someone is noticeably absent.

My mom's card and present arrived as usual of course, and tucked inside was a note from her about BuddyPa being with us in spirit. Plus a little cash, just like he'd always sent.

Brynne began crying, as did Cindy and I. Other sisters wiped their eyes as well.

His cards always said something like "wish I was there to celebrate with you."

Well, maybe he IS...now more than ever before.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Introducing..."I Can't Believe It's Not Filet Mignon"

I thought I would share my time-saving meal idea with those of you who are pressed for minutes in your ultra-busy lives.

Let's face it, we all want to be able to feed our children, but we also want to find time for important things like bonzai tree sculpting, yoga, graduate school, darning socks and blogging.

So in order to accomplish everything that needs accomplishing, something's gotta give.

Yup. Cooking.

While I really DO enjoy cooking--as evidenced by this gem of a recipe I created--sometimes we ("we" collectively as a planet, not just Cindy and I) have to feed our children something that's already been cooked in advance. You know, like leftovers, cold pizza, or...

...Chef-Boy-Ardee (and his lesser-known second cousin Sous Chef Bon Italia from our local Aldi's). OK. Truth be told, Cindy would never in a million years approve of this menu, so don't think less of her.

Really, the only preparation necessary is the opening of the can. Often, you can find the name-brand version with a handy peel-off top. But here you see that the standard no-frills version requires me to exert 5 seconds worth of energy to open.

But after that, it smooth sailing.

Just stick a fork in it and enjoy!

It really is precooked and completely safe for consumption. If you convince your kids that lots of children around the world would LOVE to have cold spaghettios, perhaps they'll just shut up and eat the stuff.
And if it helps, serve it with the 12+ pieces of silverware, cloth napkins and fine crystal to which your elite class of children have become accustomed. (Be warned, use of all those accoutrements will require time spent washing which defeats the purpose of not cooking and eating straight out of a can.)

With all the time saved by not cooking for your over-privileged children, you'll have just enough time to heat up yourself a tasty little Hot Pocket.

You are indeed living the good life.

Check out RocksInMyDryer for more practical Works-For-Me-Wednesday ideas.
"More practical ideas" as in "additional practical ideas," not as in "ideas that are more practical than mine." Duh

Monday, October 20, 2008

Now HERE'S A Novel Idea

Maybe someone should create a soup display in a grocery store made solely out of cardboard.
It could have lots of little cubbies for displaying lots and lots of individual products.

And THEN to make it feel all dangerous and life-threatening, why not balance it atop a little platform...also made entirely out of cardboard? But let's not actually attach it.

And then to really push the envelope, how about placing it in a crowded aisle, jutting out right where someone's 7-year-old daughter would feel the need to push the cart and knock over the whole display, sending the soup everywhere.

What? Someone has already created a display like this? And it's at my neighborhood Kroger store?
The one where I was shopping and 7-year-old Jenna was pushing the cart tonight?

Well, I guess I'll need to think of something more original.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Sweet Story Involving Babies...and Pumpkin Pie

I've looked high and low trying to find a certain story I'd heard as a youth.

Our dear high school yearbook advisor (dang, that sounded just like "this one time at band camp") told us about something that happened to a friend of his. It was so incredibly fantastic, I just wrote it off as an urban legend.

The only thing is that most urban legends are actually heard of by multiple people. I've looked everywhere to find this story, and haven't found even the remotest hint of it. So I'm starting to think it must be true. Therefore, it MUST be shared. If anyone has info or can direct to me the real thing, let me know.

Until then, here's what I believed we were told in 1988:

Mr. Hall's friend had recently volunteered to bring some pies to her school for a bake sale or something. The purpose of the pies is irrelevant; the fact that these were steaming hot fresh-from-the-oven pumpkin pies, on the other hand, is essential.

The pies were set together in a shallow cardboard box in the back seat, all steamy and sweet-smelling. Ymmmmmmm.

Next to the boiling-hot pumpkin pies was a nice designer carseat, and in that carseat was a baby. A happy baby, cooing and giggling as if nothing bad was about to happen, because really, what kind of problem could happen in a serene little tale of a car, a baby and a couple of piping-hot pumpkin pies?

Sure enough, while mom was driving the pies to school, baby somehow wriggled free of her carseat bondage and got into the pies. Did I mention they were still a little warm from the oven?

If you've ever put scalding pumpkin pie filling on the flesh of a child, then you know exactly the kind of cries and screams that were heard in the car at that moment.

Fortunately, they were at a stop light, so mom whipped around in record time and got her baby back in the seat and started wiping the pie from the baby. It was messy and sticky. I will let you know the baby was fine. Mom was a quick-thinker and yanked the (fresh) Pampers off the child and used that for cleaning off the baby in a jiffy.

Now it really is essential for the next part of this story that you remove yourself from her car and plop youself in the next car over, also stopped at the stop light. For from THAT vantage point, what you see is a lady turning around from the backseat and holding a diaper that is overloaded with drippy brown goo. And the brown stuff is all over her hands and arms as well.

Quite disgusting indeed. You feel very bad for her.

You see her frantically looking for something with which to clean her hands.

So what you see next is the woman holding the soiled diaper and LICKING HER FINGERS clean!!! Over and over!
Holding soiled diaper.
Licking brown slurry off her fingers.

The story goes that the driver in the next car opens his door and vomits at the intersection.
So you can see why it surprises me that I haven't come across this story in the last twenty years.

It needed to be told, doncha think?
And if enough people are nice and ask for some artwork depicting this story, I'm sure I could work up a little sumpin-sumpin.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Warm Hands. Cold Heart.

Walking into the mall, 7-year-old Jenna has a moment of sweetness.

"Can I hold your hand, Mommy?"

I look over at Cindy and we drink in this all-too-rare moment.

Jenny continues with the tenderness as we walk further.

"Now I can make your hand warm."

I watch Cindy just melt with maternal satisfaction. Feeling like I should capitalize on this fleeting opportunity, I hint subtely:

"Gee, MY hand's starting to feel cold. WhatEVER shall I do?"

I repeat this a few times before Jenna coldly informs me that I'm free to rub my own hands together to warm them up..."like you always do."

Whatevuh, girlfriend.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

The Pet/Longevity Myth Confronted

The lady on the radio just told us that owning a pet is good for your health; it can help people live longer.

Shelby wasn't buying it:

"Not US. Cheddar's probably going to kill us in our sleep some day."

It sounded funny at the time.

But the more I think about it, what if she's right?

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

The JamBag Lives

I've already written about the life-changing aspects of the JamBag, which is a zip-loc bag filled with jam for squirting out easily on to PB&J sandwiches with ease.

They sell squeeze bottles that serve the same purpose, but who likes to spend all that extra money?

Well, I bought one. Couldn't resist. When it was almost empty, I couldn't make myself spend money on another and risk addiction.

So I went and bought a mammoth bottle of jam from the store. A hideously huge bottle that the children couldn't lift without help.

If only I could get the jam from Paul Bunyan's bottle into the squeeze bottle we're about to discard.


I poured the jam into a JamBag (Zip-loc bag), snipped a corner and piped its delicious grape goodness into the squeeze bottle.

Not a huge deal, but every little bit of recycling and reusing keeps our planet spinning just a little longer.
Check out other decent Works For Me Wednesday ideas that could change the course of history.

I Paid $2.88/Gallon For Gas Today

At that price, I can almost afford to buy extra to horde away for Y3K.

(Who knows why this posted twice? It was lame to begin with; now it's TWICE as lame.)

I Paid $2.88/Gallon For Gas Today

At that price, I can almost afford to buy extra to horde away for Y3K.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Rosetta Stone, Eat Your Heart Out

After a mere 4 months as a first-time dog owner, I'm pleased to announce that I have learned a few phrases in puppy-ese.

This weekend, as we are camping, Cheddar The Wonder Pup is seeing a lot of wildlife. And he is required by the laws of nature to announce everything he sees.

So after listening to a variety of yips and yaps for the last couple of days, here is what I've worked up as a translation.

"A squirrel! A squirrel! A squirrel!"
"A leaf! A leaf! A leaf!"
"A bug! A bug! A bug!"
"A chipmunk! A chipmunk! A chipmunk!"
"A speck of dust! A speck of dust! A speck of dust!"
"A neighboring camper with a mullet! A neighboring camper with a mullet! A neighboring camper with a mullet!"

Well, that last line took a bit of extra time to decipher, but if you pay close attention, you're able to hear a slight inflection at the end of the "snarl"...and the fact that he's barking at a man with a mullet is a big hint too.

Friday, October 10, 2008


That was the sound of me coming up for air after a full week of "not blogging."

Truth be told, the whole experiment was tongue-in-cheek, as I blogged daily about not blogging. (I know, I'm a dork.)

Kind of like when I did a lecture series to talk about my life-long vow of silence.

Anyway, even though the irony was wasted on a handful of very confused readers, I enjoyed at least imagining what it would mean to my life if I stopped blogging.

I love to write and create. In college, I wrote a humor column for our campus paper which was so stinkin' fun. I've written curriculum, scripts, songs, poems, and I'm due for a love letter any day now.

So I think as long as I'm living, I hope to be writing. And here in the blog, I will keeping developing my art.

And those of you who are too intelligent to understand my sense of humor, you will just have to suffer for my art.
And because I don't want to overload your readers and subscription services with multiple posts in one day, I will tack on my latest political commentary here in this same post.

Sarah Palin.
The lady is cracking me up. Even if I hated absolutely everything she stood for, there is a sick piece of my heart that would want to vote for her and McCain for no other reason than to enjoy her speeches and interviews, and the rest of her fodder for humor for the next four years.

Yes, I know the presidential election is important and serious, but hey, if we're all going to lose our retirement savings, our houses, jobs and self-respect because of this economic crisis, let's at least have some elected officials who can breathe new life back into "Saturday Night Live."

Thursday, October 9, 2008

This Just In: BlogOut Takes a Bloody Turn

I can't tell you how much the support of my wife means to me during this long, difficult week of my BlogOut.

I've been working hard to stay committed to my goal of going this whole week without blogging, and Cindy has been right there by my side every step of the way.

Today, for example, Cindy had a nasty encounter that involved her flip-flops, the edge of the asphalt road, the nail on her big toe...and some blood.

And do you know the first thing she said to me?

"Hey, get the camera and take a picture of my toe so you can not blog about it."

So I did.

And since I'm right here near the end of Day 7, I'm not going to ruin my perfect record. Nothing could make me blog about my wife's toe. Not even a picture as blog-worthy as this:

For the record, I tried posing her grossly disfigured toe in front of some really nice fall decor for your viewing pleasure, but the background's out of focus, and I bet you're wishing she hadn't washed all the blood off first.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Have Ears, Will Travel

Since I'm in the middle of BlogOut 2008 in which I resist the irresistible urge to blog for a week, I won't be able to participate in the joyous sharing of "Works For Me Wednesday" ideas...

...like my ingenious Q-Tip Travel Transporter!

Don't you hate it when you're on vacation and your ears fill up with wax?

I know I do.

That's why I never travel without at least a ration of 2-3 Q-tips per day. And to keep my Q-tips from intermingling with my shampoo and Preparation H, I make use of an M&M Mini's package. (Hee hee. I mentioned "shampoo"...and I'm bald.)

I think I may have an OCD obsession with cleaning my ears, which technically probably shoves more wax IN than it gets OUT.

Nonetheless, the Mini's tubes are the perfect size for my life-giving cotton swabs.

AND they help make my ears smell chocolate-y.

Dr. Scott: ANOTHER Thing I'm Missing During My BlogOut

I forgot how much I'd miss checking in at StatCounter to see what Google searches are sending people to this particular blog.

It's killing me today not to check that out since I'm abstaining from blogging this week. So I have absolutely no way of knowing that I've become a resource for people with all kinds of medical problems. Here are some questions I'd see if I got on the computer and checked...which I'm NOT doing because I'm technically not blogging, you hear me?
Does uncooked chicken always cause salmonella? Not always. But it usually requires an autopsy to determine what the other culprits are.

Should I get my wisdom teeth removed if I have a cough? Most definitely. Remember this saying, "Starve a fever, feed a cold, remove teeth for a cough."

Make the kids throw up. I know it's not in the form of a question, but the answer is Yes.

Can you get blisters from dog saliva? I'm a hypochondriac, so this is an easy one to answer. Yes, especially if you rub really, really hard repeatedly against the dog saliva.

What causes small clear blisters in the throat? Sin.


Thanks for coming by. If you'll drop by the counter before you leave, Cindy will take your insurance information and your co-pay. Have a nice day.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Absentee Voting

Absentee Voting seems a little like writing a blog post in advance and post-dating it to publish it later. For example, I'll write a post at 9:00 PM but schedule it to publish at midnight or later. It gives the illusion that I stay up late and am perhaps a party animal.
Occasionally, I have to be careful, especially if I post-date it more than a day or to. After all, something could change between now and then. Like if I write about helping my wife color her hair (all-too-often occurence), it's very likely we'll go through another color or two before the post publishes, and I'll need to hop online to revise my post.

Meanwhile, once you vote absentee, there is no option to go back and change your vote. The next few days, our church gym is a voting place for absent persons. I'm thinking about going down and voting...but what if something happens later that changes my voting desires?

Like what if information surfaces linking Barrack O'Bama to shady colleagues in Chicago?

Or what if McCain turns out to have spent an extended period of time out of the country in foreign custody at some point in his life, perhaps being brainwashed?

And what if Joe Biden starts claiming to be from Scranton, Pennsylvania and served as inspiration for the characters and events of the hit TV series "The Office" which takes place there?

Or what if Sarah Palin turns out to have very little experience including PTA membership, a mayor of a small town and a governor of a state that floats in the Pacific Ocean next to Hawaii on most U.S. maps?

Anything could happen. Maybe I should just wait and vote on the actual election day, just in case.
Since I'm writing this in advance of my BlogOut to be published on Monday, October 5, I don't know what I'll choose to do yet. Maybe you have some good advice to leave in the comments...

...which I'll be able to read after I complete my BlogOut in a few days.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Mental Note

I must remember that as soon as my BlogOut is completed that I'm chomping at the bit to write about my thoughts concerning the Economy and the Big Bailout.

Mainly, I can't wait to include this line from an article I just read:

"In Dallas, sales assistant Yvonna Vaughan downgraded from Newport cigarettes to less expensive Kools and wonders whether she’ll be smoking generics before long."

Here's hopin' $700 Billion gets Yvonna back in her Newports.

Milk Is Shooting Out My Nose

Oh my goodness.
My wife is the funniest person EVER. Sometimes she just hits me upside the head with humor that will not stop.
Every time this happens, I just look and her and wonder how I got so lucky to have a wife that makes my heart leap with laughter.

Like today, she...
Well, actually since I'm not blogging this week as part of my "BlogOut 2008," I won't be able to retell you this witty little thing she did that caused my sides to ache and my knee to be slapped repeatedly.

Hopefully, come Friday when the BlogOut ends, I'll still remember it so I can write about it then.
Hold your breath.

Until then, you'll just have to find your own humor in your own lives. Just another side-effect of me going blogless this week.

That and the callouses on my thumbs (from months of blogging on my Blackberry) are starting to soften.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Whew! Made It Through Day 1

It wasn't easy, this business of abstaining from blogging. I've written of the disruption this abstention puts in my morning routine.

Later, I discovered an even greater impact it was going to have on my life...at the Plasma & Leech Center.

As soon as the needle entered the vein to suck out $40-worth of liquid gold, I realized "Crud! How am I going to pass the next 90 minutes of my life?". I usually read your blogs and/or post during the leeching process. But not today. And now that I was attached to the extractor, I couldn't walk over and pick up that 2005 issue of "Gardener" or "Men's Health."

As I refrained from blog-related activities like reading BooDaddy's love manifesto and a dozen or more commentaries on the bailout, I really had no choice but to spend an hour and a half people-watching. I noticed for the first time that the employees here have name tags. No longer will I have to refer to them as:
*The Lady With 10 or More Yorkies
*The Guy Who Makes Fun Of People Who Attend Their Baby Brother's 8th Grade Graduation When They COULD Be Coming To His Wicked Awesome Beer Party
*The Girl Who Fails To Inspire Confidence In Her Vein-Finding Abilities
*The Guy Who Pulls The Needle Out WAY Too Fast.

Now I can call them by their actual names...if I want to. But realy, I think Yorkie Lady and Needle Yanker like their nicknames.

Obviously, I survived those grueling 90 minutes and the whole rest of the day absolutely blog-free.

I hope Saturday goes well. Weekends can be a hard time for blog abstinence, they say.

Friday, October 3, 2008

View From My Blogless Wasteland

I woke up this morning. It was like any other morning.

Only there was a certain je ne sais bloglessness about it.

It's true. I have officially begun BlogOut 2008: a whole week without blogging.

The first obvious difference was going to the bathroom in the morning and NOT bringing my Blackberry with me in order to check out everyone's recent posts via Google Reader. Seriously, folks, it felt weird to go to the bathroom and not spend 25+ minutes there.

What will I do with this new-found time? If my wife finds out about it, I'll end up with 25-minutes worth of work in the garage each morning, and that would really put a crimp in my style, so let's keep this info on the down-low.

Other than that, the first half-hour of this initial blogless day was like the first half-hour of any other day.

Fortunately, Fridays are typically my day off, so as withdrawal symptoms start to creep in, I'll be able to hang out right here curled up in a fetal position in a closet, sweating profusely, rocking back and forth, longing for just. one. more. blog. post.

But right now I'm o.k.
Hopefully tomorrow I'll have a positive report of my survival as I continue to abstain from blogging.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

T minus 24 Hours: BlogOut 2008

Only one day left until BlogOut 2008, my great social experiment in which I try to stop blogging for a period of one week. Seven days is a long time for me to go without blogging. The last time I came even close to that, Cindy started to receive sympathy cards from blogging friends who assumed I'd died.

So with one day to go until the plug is pulled, I feel I should make some profound and heartfelt statements to you, my dear readers. After all, depending on how things go during my BlogOut, I may come out on the other of withdrawal/rehab and decide to stop blogging altogether. If that is the case, I need to share some [potentially] last words with you.

[cue 80's love song: "Missing You" by John Waite]

Every time I think of you,
I always catch my breath
And I'm still standing here, and you're miles away
And I'm wonderin' why you left
And there's a storm that's raging through my frozen heart
I hear your name in certain circles,
and it always makes me
I spend my time thinkin' about you, and it's almost driving
Me wild
And there's a heart that's breaking down this long distance Line

I ain't missing you at all (missing you) since you've been gone away
I ain't missing you (missing you), no matter what I might say

O.K. So now as I recognize that the lyrics actually say "I AIN'T missing you," maybe it wasn't the proper choice of songs for this post. But read it in the spirit in which it is intended.

Now imagine that this song is playing during a scratchy slide show of memories from this past year of blogging with you. I remember the sympathy you shared when Chili Pepper the hamster died (or was it Caramel...or Chubby?). Here's a sweet picture of her trapped in one of her tubes. It is perhaps the best piece of artwork ever to have appeared on my blog [click here for original post]. I think it may have been one of my first original blog-arts and it inspired me to do many more, but none as good as this first one.

Or remember when you helped me select the right kind of puppy to look for when our family entertained the idea of dog-ownership for the first time earlier this year? We regretted that this particular one was no longer available once we made up our mind. But we ended up with a good one anyway. Cheddar is indeed a joy.

And I remember the day long ago when I began selling my plasma. Still do it now every once in a while, because it's just so addictive. Not necessarily a great post, but a really cool drawing of me dripping blood.

And I was particularly proud of my decision to give up lint for lent. Bellybutton lint.

[fade out "Missing You.]

I can see it's going to be difficult to give up this kind of writing for a week. I appreciate your thoughts and prayers. I'll miss reading YOUR blogs as well. Ever since we got that blasted dog, I feel like I've had less time for everything. While I've used Google Reader to read you guys, I haven't been spending as much time commenting as I used to. I already miss that, because you guys have such good stuff out there that deserves comments.

If you're really concerned about me though, you can check back here tomorrow to read about my progress and cheer me on through this difficult endeavor.