What a tough life

Guess which one is heavier

She likes this pose

Everything changes, today, forever

Because on today, my daughter was born. Meet Abigail Nicole.

This picture at the age of about three minutes.

Another pic; about ten minutes old here, showing five of her ten perfect fingers. Toes are good too.


Abby is 8 pounds, six ounces; twenty inches tall, and has a fourteen and a half inch head, which is why mom was in labor for twelve hours before the doctor threw in the towel and c-sectioned her into the world.

Mom is fine, but dad is still a little shook up at seeing the doctor elbow deep in mom's belly.

Dad was able to administer the first feeding, seen here.


Abby also got her first bath, during which she proved she is as loud as her dad. (She isn't real down with the whole bath thing yet.)


After the bath, we got a good look at some of that amazing hair.

Today's the big day

Today (Thursday, the 15th) we go in at six am to be induced into labor. The doctor felt like the kid was getting a little big, and with everything else being copacetic and good, she wants the kid born now. So, sometime later today, everything changes. Prayers are gratefully accepted. As soon as there is news, I'll post it here, along with pictures.

I wouldn't pass this car

Looking for a cradle sheet?

I have been looking for a sheet for this cradle since I finished it. It is supposed to be a standard size, 18" by 36". But no one has anything for it - just 16" by 28", or something like that. I found plenty of sheets online, but I want it NOW. It dawned on me last night to look at pillowcases - and it just so happens that a king size pillowcase fits it perfectly.

A truly good man moves on

I found out today a very dear friend of mine has died, from cancer.

Jack Meyers was 56. I met him in 1992. I had just bought my first computer a few months before that, and I figured I knew just about everything about computers, since I could write batch files. Jack had placed an ad in the paper looking for FoxPro programmers. I called the number listed, and we started talking about politics, and Limbaugh, and photography, and finally, something like three hours later, about computers. He asked me what kind of experience I had, and by then I had realized how little I knew, and told him I probably would not be able to do the job. He told me 'Bullcrap. Come get the software, play with it for a while, and call me when you get comfortable with it.' I did just that, and ended up working with him the rest of that summer.There is not much that beats cashing a three thousand dollar part-time paycheck.

Over the next years, we had a lot of marathon conversations about everything under the sun. He told endless stories about traveling the world and going to school - brutal practical jokes he pulled, driving through Turkey, you name it.

When he was diagnosed with (I believe) kidney cancer, he didn't tell me, until it appeared he had it beat. He was in a tiny percentage of people who had beaten it. He found doctors who were willing to try different things, and it seemed to work for a long time. He never whined or bemoaned his cancer, instead he did something about it.

I don't want this to sound like an obit, but I guess that's what this is. But obits never say enough, especially someone like Jack. Unless you knew him, a blog post is not going to show what a truly smart, decent, good man he was.

How sick

I ran across this story,which is about a woman who wants to have her legs amputated. Nothing wrong with them, no disfigurement, no chronic pain, no reason other than she wants to have them removed. She managed to get it done by destroying her leg with dry ice, forcing doctors to amputate.

As a teenager, in the privacy of my own home, I used to play by myself at being an amputee. I would pretend I had one leg, strapping the other one up behind me and wearing oversize trousers so there was no shape. I knew even then that it wasn't normal, that it wasn't something to share with friends or my parents. But, trussed up like that, I would be quite happy and satisfied for a while.

She speaks of this whole process matter-of-factly, like anyone who has "Body Identity Integrity Disorder" just needs to have limbs hacked off to deal with this problem.

The saddest part of this story?

My youngest child is 10 and the eldest 15, and they do not know the truth about the removal of my leg yet. I told them I had a problem back in March and have had complications since. As a mother, I felt bad about not telling them the truth, especially when I was so ill I thought I might not make it. But now I feel it is better to protect them until they are old enough to understand that this was my choice. They will probably be in their 20s before I reach that point. Maybe they will figure it out for themselves before then, anyway. But I have given so much to my home and family that I feel entitled to do this for myself.

Who allows these people to get like this? Why isn't anyone trying to treat these people? Forget the damage they do to themselves, what are these kids going to see as normalcy now? She did manage to get the job done, after three attempts. Why didn't doctors do something after her first attempt? How about her husband?

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Yesterday, I had to go to an apartment to check a phone line. The tenant seemed to be somewhat mentally disabled. When I went inside, I was shocked; the apartment was knee high or worse in trash. I mean trash. Not clutter, but trash. Dumpster trash. There is a path about a boot wide where a person can walk, but otherwise, knee high or higher trash. At first glance, yesterday I thought the kitchen counter was covered with coffee grounds. Today, I had to go back to the same apartment. I noticed it wasn't coffee on the countertop; it was roach and mice droppings. And mold.

How do these people get like this? Someone has to be funding this woman, be it SSI, or a relative, or some charity agency. She spoke of getting out of the run-down apartment complex this spring.

I am told it was after 'One Flew Over The Cukoo's Nest' that congress made it harder to force treatment on people who don't want it. That was when the homeless population exploded. As usual, congress tries to fix something and makes the problem ten-fold worse.

I did some work for a homeless shelter in the '90s, and I noticed a statistic in one of the databases; about 80% of the people served by the shelter stated they were homeless because it was their chosen lifestyle. The caseworkers also had a field in the database where they selected a reason for the clients homelessness; about 90% listed mental illness or substance abuse or addiction. Obviously, very very few sane people would choose this.

I don't think any caring person wants to lock these people up and warehouse them. That'swhat the DNC does ahead of a party convention. But we need to get them some help, so they can enjoy life.