If you want to have some fun with some of your favorite websites travel to a developing country with your laptop and then try to visit them.
The IP address from which you are browsing is not permitted.
Apparently, the IP address I’m using and the IP address which sent you an email overnight for “Cheap Prescription Drugs” may be one in the same…
I’ll be the first to admit my phone isn’t smart – and I like it that way. I have never felt compelled to be “connected” at all times. Most nights my phone ends up with my keys somewhere near the door. And if I forget to turn the ringer up, I won’t look at it the rest of the night. But don’t take me the wrong way. I love technology and what it can do. For example, I spent all day Sunday either on a plane or scrambling to catch another plane. By the time I was in my hotel I was measuring distance in time zones, outside of the US, and well beyond my cell phone coverage. But, thanks to a little technology (Skype) and a laptop, I still got to have dinner with my girls on Sunday night:
And again on Monday night with all the kiddos:
It’s nothing new – it’s been around for more than a few years now – but with a laptop and some free software I’m able to hear and see all the excitement of the day just as if I was sitting right there – except I don’t get wet when someone spills the milk.
My family has raised registered Simmental cattle for breeding stock (or seed stock) for over 30 years. During my involvement with the business I’ve grown used to answering all sorts of questions from my non-ag friends and curious on-lookers at fairs. Anything from “how big will it get?” to “why does that one have a hump on it’s neck?” I even had one kid who had never seen a cow before ask me “what type of dog is that?” as he walked past a young calf in Milwaukee at the Wisconsin State Fair. His eyes got big and he immediately ran off saying he had to tell his friends what he found once he realized it was a cow.
The questions came up again a couple weekends ago when my brother and I picked up two purebred Simmental heifers we had purchased earlier this fall. The heifers will be for Sissy and Potato Boy to work with as 4-H projects before we add them to the herd with the other cows we own. When asked what I had done that weekend one of the same old questions popped up again: “Are you going to eat them?”
I’ve explained it many times before, but Crystal of Crystal.Cattle recently did an excellent job of explaining the difference between purebred and commercial cattle on her blog so I thought I’d share the link here for anyone who’d like a refresher course.
As it applies to us, you just need to substitute Simmental for Hereford in her article.
Peanut was back in Iowa City last Thursday for her post-surgery checkup. The schedule was three-fold. Peanut met with her surgical team for a recovery follow-up. She met with her GI doctor for a routine check-up. And, she met with her wound care nurse for some special attention for a horrible case of diaper rash.
With Peanut’s incision slowly healing, her blood work on the right track, and her appetite coming back in a big way the previous week (she’s gained a pound and a half since being discharged following the surgery), the doctors’ main concern was Peanut’s diaper rash. We were warned prior to Peanut’s surgery that a bad diaper rash would follow. Peanut’s bottom had never been exposed to a dirty diaper so her skin didn’t have the chance to slowly adjust like a typical baby would. Additionally, the stool in short gut kids is more acidic – gasoline on a fire. We took every piece of advice we could find and tried just about every type of diaper rash cream out there – and even mixed our own (thank you to many people for the suggestions), but Peanut’s 14-16 dirty diapers a day were just too much for her skin. We’ll save you from any pictures, but we’re not talking about a red bottom – this is full on broken skin/bleeding patches. Remember when you skinned your knees on concrete as a kid? Now imagine that on a baby’s butt.
The solution? A detailed three layer diaper cream regimen that includes a stoma powder, burn wound cream and – under the guidance of Peanut’s medical team – we have started adding Metamucil to four of her green bean shakes every day. I know what you’re thinking, but the type of fiber found in Metamucil also helps slow everything down in the intestines. Slowing things down helps Peanut absorb more and poop less frequently. Peanut’s dirty diaper count had dropped from 17 on her worst day last week, to 12 on Saturday and just 9 on Sunday. Math like that means more time for the skin to heal between diaper changes.
Tickle, Tickle…
The crazy diaper rash will be something we battle as long as Peanut is in diapers. The good news is that with it under control for now, she’s much happier and back to playing as a 16 month old should. At this point it looks like she’s put the set-backs of the last few months behind her and is ready to start growing again. Saturday night marked the first time since some time in August that Peanut slept through the night without waking up sick, hungry, or dirty.
As thick as thieves…
The DW and I often get asked by some of you how we manage to get as much done as what we do – the simple answer: there’s so much to do it’s pretty easy to just skim off the top. There’s so much more we just don’t get done. For example, while I was in college I stumbled upon a 1966 Mustang. It was in fair shape and I thought it would be a great project for my free time so I bought it. That was over 13 years ago and I still haven’t touched the car. I’ve been told repeatedly by my dad that “you always have time to do what you make time to do.” I never made time to work on the car, so it wasn’t that hard of a decision when I listed it for sale last week. The decision was reaffirmed when Potato Boy walked past the computer while I was uploading a picture of the car to a For Sale website and stopped to ask “Who’s old car is that?”
After I explained to him that it was a car I purchased long before the DW and I were ever married he was a little curious what else I used to drive. I had to stop and think for a moment before I came up with this:
There was my first car – an ’89 Pontiac Sunbird with 120,000 miles that I got in ’95 or ’96 with the help of my parents. It had a salvaged title and had been touched up so many times that when I had the rust on the doors repaired the paint shop identified 5 different shades of maroon on the car when trying to formulate a color match. It would stall and refuse to start for 20 seconds each time I’d come to a stop sign on an off ramp, but it got me to prom, graduation, and my first part time job while in college – the job where I first met the DW. I put two tires and 40,000 miles on that car before selling it for $500 more than I paid for it.
Then there was a ’98 Caviler I bought new. It’s sounds outrageous now, but at the time I got a great interest rate on the loan – 7.44%. I’d put almost 150,000 miles on the car driving it through college, law school, and my first post-college job. It was also the car the DW and I were sitting in when I broke up with the her shortly before we, and the car, were searched by police (that’s a story for a different day). I also managed to “total” it twice. The first time by hitting a 10 point buck while going 65 down a four lane highway late one night returning to law school after a weekend at home. The buck was so big the deputy needed help dragging it off the road. It was put back together and I’d drive it another 50,000 miles before the night my parents dropped me off at the dealership to pick up a new car and were driving the Caviler home when they hit a deer. This time I took the check and let the insurance company have the car. I would ultimately replace the Caviler with another Caviler I found used that the DW and I drove until Lulu was born and we didn’t fit in it anymore.
The new car I was picking up the night the Caviler was totaled the second time was an ’06 Mustang GT. Ford had recently changed the body style and due to demand I had to wait three months before the car I wanted was available. This was the fun car to drive – a big V8 with a manual transmission. Even a cop waved at me once – and no, I wasn’t speeding (that time). This was the car I drove when I picked up the DW for our “second” first date 7 years after we had parted ways in college. She would later put me in my place with “Oh, this is a Mustang? I hadn’t noticed.” We managed to squeeze Potato Boy and Sissy’s car seats in back for my first trip to meet the DW’s family. And when the time came, it was the car we traded in on our first family car – and not without issue of course. The sales rep continued to make advances at the DW until he realized her profession and then started to ask her for business favors for his girlfriend. (The sales rep later left me a voice mail asking why I gave him such a poor customer satisfaction review. The fact he had to ask means it wasn’t worth explaining.)
After all of that, Potato Boy asked me “So why are you selling the old Mustang?” I told him that there are other things I’d rather do with him and the rest of the family and didn’t want the money tied up in something I wasn’t going to work on. That maybe the truth, but maybe the simple answer is that, compared to the other cars I’ve owned, there’s just no story there.
We knew this day would come…I just didn’t believe it would get here so fast. 13 years have passed at the speed of light! In my mind, our now 13 year-old daughter should still be 7. I can’t help but feel a wee bit sad about this, but all of that is overshadowed by the proud feelings I have when I look at our Sissy.
Last night Sissy went to a seventh grade dance – and likely had her first slow dance – although I doubt she will admit it to us. She’s crushing on boys AND already talking about how excited she is to start hunting for college scholarships!?!? I know we can’t keep her living here forever…or can we? Hmmm…no, it’s not right to entertain the thought of finding a way to keep her a child forever.
If you haven’t already noticed, I get a little sentimental around the time of my children’s birthdays. I love looking through old pictures and reminiscing about their actual “birth day”. Each one of the kids’ birthdays are equally special, but Sissy’s birthday will always mark a special turning point in my life. She gave me something that I never knew I was missing.
I have truly enjoyed watching Sissy grow and mature over the past thirteen years. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve used the “grow up” or “act your age” line on the Sissy and Potato Boy a few times, but deep down I think I’m just envious. They still have that natural curiosity about life…they love unconditionally…forgive easily…they have vivid imaginations…speak freely…and they still believe that if you try hard enough, anything is possible. That’s the part of childhood I hope my kids don’t lose as they grow older. I think most of us would agree we’d like to take that sense of childlike optimism with us through life.
I know Sissy’s in a hurry to grow up…most teens are. But Sissy, if you’re reading this, just take it slow on your old mom, don’t grow up too fast. Take time to really enjoy these next few years.
Happy birthday to our intelligent, compassionate, lovely teenager.
Sissy on the eve of her 13th birthday. Heading out to her “real” first junior high dance.
Through the years…
– Photo Courtesy: Milestone Portraits by Thea –
Squash is always kind of a gamble for me. Last year we planted a lot of seeds and ended up with only a few squash. This year, we planted three seeds and ended up with close to twenty fully mature butternut squash before the first frost. The catch is that I’m the only one in the family that enjoys squash. It wouldn’t have been an issue originally. Peanut loved pureed squash with her rice cereal, but that was before she started to refuse anything that resembled baby food. Had she stayed on course, we would have worked through it with no problem. I can’t blame her. I’m guessing most of us reading this post have moved on from baby food as well.
I had some failed attempts at introducing the rest of the kiddos to squash last year – including a recipe that was basically a shepherd’s pie with squash in place of the mashed potatoes. It looked awesome on paper, but Potato Boy wasn’t having it and even I had to agree it wasn’t great.
This year we tried something a little more straight forward – squash fries.
Sliced Squash
I had found a handful of different approaches to making squash fries, so I peeled and sliced one squash and we split it three ways: a third of the squash fries were sprinkled with salt and olive oil and baked, a third were dipped in a simple batter and fried, and the last third were fried plain. The DW made a homemade southwest sauce to go with the fries.
Top Left: Batter and Fried, Top Right: Baked, Bottom: Fried
For an occasional treat, the fried squash (no batter) with the dipping sauce was pretty good – think sweet potato fries in texture but squash in taste. And they cooked quick. Only a few minutes in the fryer and they were ready. The healthier baked fries weren’t a bad alternative. Really, the only disappointment were the battered fries – they were just blah. Will you see me subbing out traditional french fries for squash fries on a regular basis? No. But, definitely something we’ll try again.
I still remember two weeks after my appendectomy several years ago. I was back to work, but still wearing “comfy” pants, not tying my own shoes, and requiring help to get in and out of bed. It took quit a while before my stomach muscles decided to forgive me for the three small incisions that were made for the procedure that removed my appendix. The DW went through the same thing just a few years ago and would generally agree.
On the other hand, Peanut has decided that two weeks after a new four inch incision in her stomach is the perfect time to attempt some type of “downward dog” yoga move.
The good thing is that her incision must not be bothering her – she smiles and giggles non-stop while she does it.
I have no idea why she waited until after her surgery to start doing this. I’ve got to wonder if she thinks she’s showing off her newly assembled bottom or trying to air out a nasty diaper rash.
The DW and I have mentioned the Preemie Project and it’s role in Peanut’s stay at the Iowa Children’s Hospital NICU.
In honor of National Prematurity Awareness Month, the Preemie Project is campaigning to raise $4,473 in November to support families in Iowa NICUs. Funds will be raised between November 1st and November 17 and used to purchase supplies on Black Friday that support the project’s programs. The number 4473 is significant because in 2010 4473 infants were born preterm in Iowa. (One of those infants was our very own Lulu!)
So, if you’d like to partake in the craziness of Black Friday without leaving your bed and footy pajamas behind before the crack of dawn consider making a donation to the Preemie Project’s Black Friday Fundraiser. Can you think of a better gift than a warm and fuzzy homemade something for a preterm infant?
