Dog Makes Five

Paco & John (restaurant review).

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 04:10:00 +0000

Yesterday, my wife and I took our five-year-old for his post-op visit to the ophthalmologist. The doctor’s office is currently located at Harris Hospital. Our boy has had a rough go of it in his recovery from ptosis corrective surgery. But, the good doctor assured us that his experience is within the range of normal and there is no concern that he’s in trouble.

After the appointment, we decided to have lunch. It was time to eat. We were hungry. There was a slight mood of celebration. And, we thought it would do Turner some good to start to get out and about just a bit, rather than take him straight back home to the couch.

We opted for Paco and John, our first visit there.

The place appears to be an old convenience store or gas station. The decor is decidedly casual, with laminate booths and plastic table cloths. Still, someone paid attention to the details. A subtle gray color palette was employed throughout, giving the place a clean, muted appearance.

Don’t let the exterior fool you. The downscale ambience is in direct contrast to the upscale fare. On the day of our visit, the chalk board listed the specials: duck enchiladas, scallops with mango, cream of carrot soup.

Clearly, this isn’t your average Mexican place. In fact, according to an article by Deborah Ferguson, Paco & John was created by French chef Bernard Tronche of St. Emilion and Francisco Islas, a long-time employee of Bernard’s, and is named for their sons.

I wanted to sample, and opted for the street tacos. I selected one with red snapper, one with chicken and one vegetarian. All were excellent. I’d order the snapper only next time, because they’re unique. I made my meal a “plate” which comes with two sides. I chose the mushrooms, which were perfect, and a salad, which was a small mound of (intentionally) wilted lettuce with some sort of goodness on it (I didn’t pay attention to the details on the salad, but it tasted good). I liked the chips and salsa. Very important.

Marian chose the veggie quesadillas. Not my favorite item at any restaurant. P&J’s version was tasty, but maintained the classic characteristics that would keep me from choosing this dish, too cheesy and too greasy. Turner got a ground beef taco. He had been timid about eating anything much since surgery. But, for a five-year-old, he is a meat connoisseur and this taco made the grade.

The server explained that Paco & John is open for breakfast and lunch, Saturday brunch, closed on Sunday’s and soon hopes to have a liquor license. I think she indicated that the license would mean they’d expand their hours to include dinner, but I didn’t catch all that she said.

I will definitely go back, and I recommend it to anyone seeking high quality, fresh food with a Mexican flare at reasonable prices. I wish there were more restaurants like this joint

Paco & John is located at 1116 8th Avenue, Fort Worth 76104, 817-810-0032.

Will Write For Food.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 04:25:00 +0000

As I near the end of my longstanding employment with my current company, I am beginning to consider what’s next in the work realm.

Again, my goal is to return to school full time at Dallas Theological Seminary for a master’s in Biblical counseling. I have sent a few emails to the school and called to schedule an appointment with the program director. So far, no luck getting the next steps going. I hope to clear this up soon, and finalize my admission into the program and register for classes for summer and fall.

While going to school, I hope to work part time. I have begun to look for options.

If possible, I’d like to write professionally. I figure that may be a long-shot. But, I’m searching for possibilities anyway. I have been searching online for part-time writing jobs. I have sent some resumes.

If the dream job writing from the location of my choice doesn’t come together, I’d like to find something that would offer me an office where I could study for my classes when I am not working.

No answers yet. Still thinking. Praying. Wondering.

Surgical Stress.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 01:16:00 +0000

Turner, our third child, the one with cystic fibrosis, also has endured bilateral ptosis, i.e., both of his eyelids are droopy.

The droopy eyelids have given him a perpetually tired look. And, unfortunately, we have heard for years how tired he looks, from strangers to family members, regularly. To me, that’s no way to live. Further, the drooping has been significant enough that he sometimes tilts his head back to see. Also, he has an astigmatism and some vision impairment, likely resulting from the ptosis.

Since he was one, we have monitored this with a pediatric opthamologist. The doctor suggested early on that one day we likely would want to correct this. Initially, we had some hope initially it might correct on its own. It did not. There is hope that correcting the ptosis could correct the vision and the astigmatism. And, the lids might droop less, thereby eliminating the tired look.

The recommendation was to do the surgery before Kindergarten. I believe that is generally because it’s a good idea to fix this sort of thing before school starts and because recovery is better for younger kids.

My wife was concerned about putting him through it, more than anything. Turner’s hospitalization last summer was traumatic for him. The first day, he got an IV inserted. It took about three tries, with a room full of nurses, two of them sticking him repeatedly, and at least 20 minutes of horror, but it seemed like an hour. Then, the IV pushed meds hurt him going in, as did the saline flushes in between. Frankly, the experience traumatized him. For the rest of the week, any time a nurse or anyone remotely medical seeming entered his hospital room, he was scared. After a week of that, he had surgery to remove his adenoids and tonsils and clear his sinuses. I’m sure there was some pain from the surgeries and he was not himself for well over a week, even after we were home.

So, we have debated whether to do the ptosis corrective surgery at all. Our plan was to do it this coming summer. But, with our insurance changing soon, we decided to go ahead and do it now. We very much like the doctor, and trust his advice and recommendations. So, my mind was generally at ease.

Today was the procedure. Turner ate a tiny bite of his brother’s food this morning, a piece of a rice puff. Because of the food, the anesthesiologist said that we could not proceed with the 10am surgery, due to the risk of him coughing up the food during surgery and getting it into his lungs, which could create infection/pneumonia. So, the surgery was postponed. We returned to the hospital at noon for a 1pm time slot. The surgery actually didn’t start until closer to 3pm. The opthamologist reported the surgery went well.

Unfortunately, when he woke up in the recovery room, with an IV in his arm, ointment in his eyes and nurses around him, he was terrified. He screamed and flailed for several minutes. Even after the flailing stopped, the screaming continued. His eyes hurt, so he said. The nurses reassured us that it was likely discomfort from the ointment in his eyes and a gritty feeling from the surgery, as well as confusion from the meds. He kept reaching for his eyes, which we were told to prohibit. That was a struggle and he yanked out his IV. Blood spurted all over him, the floor and Marian. Eventually, he calmed down, briefly. He cried off and on until we got him home, and mom got him a bath an his pajamas on. He’s watching Nick Jr. on TV on the couch, or listening to it anyway. A semblance of normalcy has returned at least momentarily.

We will alternate Tylenol and Motrin in an attempt to avoid pain medication. This surgery creates extra taut eyelids. Apparently, for a stretch, he will sleep with his eyes open! We have to administer ointment four times per day. We won’t know for some time whether the procedure produces the desired results. I gather it could be six months before his eyelids are at the stage they will be post surgery. Sometimes, this step is not enough and a second, more invasive procedure is needed. Marian says no thanks to that one. And, at the moment, I tend to agree. Let’s hope this one worked!

Why Doesn’t Sonicare?

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 06:32:00 +0000

I brush my teeth too hard. Always have. Seems like it cleans better.

But, it’s not a simple conscious effort. Interestingly, I remember pressing too hard when writing with pencils as a child, and breaking them often. Crayons too.

I have gum recession. Two dentists told me this was from brushing too hard. My current dentist told me that it was from grinding my teeth. I suspect it could be both. Drat.

My dental hygienist cousin told me to get an electric toothbrush. I have had one before, from the dentists recommendation for my brushing problem. Can’t recall why I quit using it.

My kids’ dental hygienist told me several months ago that the kids should use electric toothbrushes.

The weekend before last, I bought three Sonicare toothbrush sets at Costco. Each box came with two handles, a charger and three brush heads. All six of us at my house got new electric toothbrushes. It was a small fortune, but I assumed it was worth it, for our oral hygiene and to save our gums, my eroded ones especially.

I bet I have used that new toothbrush 10 times. Tonight, I dropped it. I can’t even explain what happened. I was using it. I moved it out of my mouth to rinse it off, as sonically mixed saliva and toothpaste goo was dripping everywhere. And, in one mysterious swoop, the unit flung out of my hand and onto the slate floor of my bathroom. ARGH!

I picked it up, cringing. Of course, it no longer worked. I tapped it, pushed the button several times, set it on the charger a few times. Nothing. I went onto the Philips web site and found a chat feature.

Laura tells me, quite curtly, that my warranty is not voided and the unit is not serviceable. I asked if this was because of the droppage. She confirmed ever so impolitely. I asked if I could purchase just the one handle unit, rather than an entire set. She reiterated that the Sonicare is not serviceable. “That was not my question,” LAURA!, I said, without actually using her name. She confirmed that the handles are not sold separately and an entire unit would need to be purchased. I expressed my disappointment. Laura had nothing else to say.

Through my own searching, I found that this item comes with just one handle and the accessories, if bought through the web site, which is a bit less expensive than the double unit set I bought at Costco. But, at $129 for the one, I am highly irritated to buy another so soon! And, I am extremely disappointed in Philips for not making a product that could withstand a normal drop onto a bathroom floor. And, worse yet, that they don’t sell the parts! Or, service the darn things. I realize servicing a toothbrush is a stretch. But, I used this thing less than a week (as I did not open until a few days after I bought it). I had a strange sense when I bought the thing it wasn’t going to live up to my expectations.

The web site has a 90-day money back offer, FOR ANY REASON, so it says. But, I am sure the COSTCO receipt is long gone already. Double ARGH!!

Educational Pursuits.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 05:02:00 +0000

As previously noted, I once thought I would get a PhD in psychology. After working in the field, I was discouraged by my doctoral-level colleagues who felt that the time and money spent on a PhD in psychology could be better spent in other fields with more lucrative results. I took heed.

When I decided to leave my career in the mental health field, I enrolled in chemistry and physics at UTA, thinking I would try to complete the prerequisites for medical school. HA! There was a good reason I never took those math-based sciences in high school or college. After a few weeks of rather frustrating attempts to keep up the pace in those large, weed-out undergraduate science classes, I decided I had endured enough.

I remember to this day driving from my office at Dallas County MHMR to UTA to withdraw from chemistry and physics. I was intensely in the moment. I arrived on campus and parked near the records building. In my head, I was truly done. I wanted to get out of those classes and NEVER go back to school again. I marched into the building, filled out the forms, and marched back out to my car. DONE. I already had a master’s degree. I didn’t need to go back to school anyway. I was irritable and ashamed that I had even tried something as foolish as enrolling in chemistry and physics. Real math was never my thing anyway, so what made me think I could tackle physics?

I got in the car, sat down, put the key in the ignition and turned it. The car would not start. The tension increased. I tried a few more times. Nothing. I waited, took some deep breaths, tried again. Nothing. I was mad. I had a company cell phone with me, one of those old fashioned large ones. I called a friend to come and get me.

My friend and I worked together. She had been my supervisor. But, we both wanted to go back to school and needed to reduce our work hours to do so. We were able to negotiate a special arrangement with the director of child and adolescent services at MHMR to enable us to share a position. Together, we oversaw the therapeutic foster care program that I had developed and managed for several years. She was going to Dallas Theological Seminary for a master’s in Biblical studies, while I flopped in those awful undergraduate science classes. Anyway, luckily, my friend was at the office when I needed help escaping from UTA, and she agreed to come and get me.

I sat there in the car, waiting, and trying to decrease my irritability before my friend arrived. A clarity came to me suddenly. My attitude was all wrong. I was not supposed to leave that school with the decision that I was done with education. I was going to get more education. Honestly, it made no sense to me. And, it was NOT what I wanted to believe at the time. But, I knew that it was reality. And, I knew I needed to accept it. So, I just cleared my head and agreed that I would do what seemed right, including more education, if that truly seemed correct and the opportunity came about. Sigh.

So, I tried the ignition one more time. The car started. I drove off, while calling my friend to cancel the pick up. Clearly, I got the message I was supposed to get. I knew then it was from God. But, I didn’t have any details.

That message stuck with me. I enrolled in chemistry twice more at two different junior colleges. The second time, I withdrew on the first day of class. I can’t even recall why. The third time, I started the class, barely. The second week, we started a lab and I knew that I did not want to be in there. I dropped chemistry for the last time. Medical school was clearly not the plan.

Determined not to be defeated, I enrolled in anatomy and physiology. I had always liked the biological sciences. I figured I could pass that one, and I needed the mental boost. As it turned out, it was a breeze. I made As on everything. Actually, I made over 100 on tests and lab quizzes, consistently. I even wrote a paper for extra credit, which I obviously did not need. I was driven to ace that freaking class. As we approached the final, my grade was so high that I could make a zero on the final and still get an A for the semester. I suggested to the instructor that I might skip for that reason. He scoffed at me, obviously thinking that was foolish. So, I agreed to show. But, on the day of the final, I emailed him and said I had decided to skip it after all, and thanked him for the A in advance, which I earned. I like telling that story, especially after the chemistry debacle. I never took another science course. Why ruin the perfect ending.

However, I later enrolled in a doctoral level psychology class at UNT. I withdrew after a few weeks, not because I didn’t like it, and not because I couldn’t do the work. But, the class was getting intense quickly. I had gotten special permission to try out one class. But, admission into the program required full-time study. I was married and had a mortgage. I realized that I was not willing to go to school full time.

Later still, I went to Texas Wesleyan School of Law for a year, part-time at night. A wife, two kids and a full time job left me juggling a lot on top of law school. But, the material was very interesting and kept me going. I attended school four nights per week. I studied all day Saturday and Sunday at my office. I made the Dean’s list in the fall and the spring semesters.

That spring, I totally blanked out while trying to write the appellate brief for legal writing. Writing had always come easy for me. Throughout college and grad school, I wrote all of my papers in a fast-paced stream of consciousness, always getting As, never a problem. In fact, I even ranked first in my legal writing class the first semester. But, in that second semester, in the middle of that big paper, I was completely stuck and a strange panic ensued. For me, that was a clear sign that things were not working. I had a serious conversation with God at that moment. Sadly, I knew then that I would not finish law school. But, I simply did not want to go out with a flop in a writing class. I bargained with God. I asked for the ability to finish the appellate brief and get through the semester, but I agreed to be done, if that was His plan, when the moment was clear the next time. I finished my prayer, got up and wrote the paper with ease, no more brain freeze. Interestingly, there was a strange snafu. The paper that I submitted was not the final copy. Somehow, in my editing, I did not properly save the final edited version. An entire section of explanation was omitted and there were mistakes in a paragraph that I had fixed. Oddly, I did not even realize this when I printed and bound the paper. I realized it after I turned it in, but the final version was nowhere to be found. This was odd, as I had been saving duplicate copies of my edits as I went, and even emailed myself most of the versions to avoid losing anything. Consequently, the work was not quite up to my standards. Still, I tied for second in the writing class second semester.

I scraped by with barely a C in my summer class, Civil Procedure. Uh oh. By the fall of my second year, I was exhausted. My Constitutional Law professor was new, and took the Socratic Method very seriously. I was stressed. In order to keep up, I was going to have to give up my one night off. Marian and I had dinner together and watched movies every Friday night. I could not continue to do this and keep up with law school. That was irritating. Also, I had advanced in my role at work. I was making more money than when I started law school. There was potential for more responsibility and even more income at work. But, with school, I was reluctant to take it on. Then, my uncle came into town. I wanted to hang out rather than go to school and study all weekend, missing the visit entirely. It seemed like there was no time for important things in life. But, I went to class. The Con Law professor was grilling students. I just knew I would be called on. Although I had done all the reading, as I always did, I did not feel prepared. In the heat of the class that night, I felt my time was up. A nudge from God, so it seemed. During class, I told God I would withdraw, and asked Him to get me through that class without getting called on. I didn’t get called on. When class was over, I told my study buddies I was done. I withdrew the next day. Admittedly, I had some regrets afterwards, but that was due to all the work I had put in. I was confused by the experience, but it was the right choice. So, I thought I was done with school. My plans to get a doctorate were over, no PhD, no MD, no JD. No more school!

Lately, I have been giving serious thought to what’s next for me. And, after a lot of focus on God to attempt to discern His intentions, it seems clearer to me than ever before that school is still in the plan. Admittedly, the details of the logistics are not completely clear to me yet. But, I believe I will in fact be going back to school, though not for a doctorate.

I applied to Dallas Theological Seminary last spring. My goal at the time was simply to take Bible study classes online. I had no intentions of another degree and no plans to change careers in that direction whatsoever. When my mother was diagnosed with cancer, I deferred my enrollment, as I thought I would be dealing with her illness when school started. As it turned out, she died last summer. But, I was not prepared to renew the enrollment plans in time for the fall. Then, as talks to sell my company progressed further, I decided not to enroll in the Spring semester either, as I felt I should first figure out my career plans before pursuing a personal interest side endeavor.

As I considered career options, I learned that DTS offers a master’s in Biblical counseling. The program prepares students for state licensure as an LPC. The license enables private practice as a counselor. In college, I imagined I eventually would work in private practice as a psychologist. However, a PhD is required for licensure as a psychologist and I never got the doctorate. With my master’s, I obtained the psychological associate’s license, which seemed to offer no real value. The counseling track permits master’s level clinicians to be fully licensed. The seminary coursework includes 30 credits of Bible study that interests me personally. So, now, my plan is to go back to my roots in the mental health field.

On the one hand, this plan to return to school seems potentially a bit crazy now, at my age, with four kids. On the other hand, it seems clear to me that this is God’s plan. Admittedly, there is an awkward aspect to this realization, especially after all of the educational foibles described above. Yet, I have no intention of ignoring the message. As long as God keeps opening doors in this direction, I plan to pursue it. If He does not intend this, I believe he’ll make it clear.

The next step is to meet with the program director to put the pieces together and move forward.

The TNT.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 03:11:00 +0000

Almost 14 years ago, I began working for TNT Marketing, national convenience store broker. TNT is a sales and marketing organization, representing the makers of numerous top-branded products to the convenience store class of trade. Clients include General Mills, Bayer, Duracell, ConAgra Dole, Mattel and more. Strategically located in DFW, near the 7-Eleven headquarters and not far from the McLane Corporation central office, the largest c-store retailer and wholesaler respectively, TNT offers nationwide service and focused expertise.

In 1996, I began in the marketing department, creating sales materials and presentations to prospective clients. I had left the mental health field after earning a master’s in psychology and managing a program in children’s social services for several years. The job I left amounted to quite a lot of responsibility and relatively low pay. I was ready for a change. TNT was a great fit. A decent job, with comparable pay, and a lot less responsibility. Admittedly, my goal at the time was for this job to be a stop gap. I thought I would go back to school, once I figured out what I wanted to be.

I attempted school, repeatedly. I started some science courses, thinking that I might pursue a career in the medical field. As much as I liked biology in college, chemistry and physics are not for me. Later, I tried a doctoral-level class at University of North Texas, in the psychology department’s behavioral medicine program. A few weeks into it, I realized I was not prepared to go back to school full time, which would have been required upon acceptance into the the program. In 2002, I enrolled in law school part time. I made it one year, and managed to make the Dean’s list for two semesters. However, juggling the intensity of school on top of a full-time job and a family was crazy busy. At the start of the second year, the Socratic Method pushed me over the edge and I withdrew.

All the while, I kept plugging along at TNT Marketing. I hired an advertising and public relations agency to help develop our brand and take our corporate image to a new level. We expanded the marketing department to add staff. As the company grew, we increased professionalism overall. I developed the human resources efforts and hired a consulting firm to facilitate that effort as well. Eventually, I assumed the role of overseeing all of the non-sales departments, including marketing, advertising and public relations, accounting, IT, facilities, HR, and the account administration and customer service groups. With a good sounding title, VP Operations, and a broad range of things to dabble in, my job became interesting and experience enhancing.

My dad founded the business in 1994. He stepped back several years ago, officially retiring completely last year, and our new president has carried the torch for awhile now. My mother worked with the company, until she died last year. My brother was there for a time. Uncles came and went. My step-sister remains today. For me, it has been a family business, as well as a long-time career. Those days are gone now.

This week, official letters were mailed to the ESOP participants with ballots for them to vote on the sale of the company. (About half of our company is employee-owned with almost all of our employees and some former employees involved. The other half is held by a small group of us who own shares directly.) The buying entity is a large broker in the grocery class of trade. We have been approached by a few of them in recent years. Finally, the right deal came together, and the senior management group at TNT decided the proposal was worthy of putting it to a vote. In reality, it seems clear to me now that the sale will go through.

I am excited about the potential of the new venture. CROSSMARK, the buying company, seems very well managed. I have met the owners and they all seem like sensible, genuine, intelligent and driven individuals. I have toured the facility, and it is remarkable. I have observed presentations and heard many facts and figures. Everything about the place seems impressive. While the minor details have not been completely ironed out, it seems clear that this deal will be good for our people, thankfully. I believe most of them will accept employment there. The industry-focused expertise of the TNT team and the comprehensive professional resources of the CROSSMARK brand will combine to make the new venture, TNT Marketing, a division of CROSSMARK (or however it will be worded), a force to be reckoned with in the c-store class of trade. This is great news for everyone involved.

For me, personally, it means the end of an era. My role overseeing various departments at our small business doesn’t translate easily into a large corporation environment. The people at the new place were very kind and there was some talk of trying to find me a position. But, there was no clarity on what I might be doing. And, there was no logical way for me to ensure any sort of longevity in that situation. Further, the location is quite far from my home. My wife and I were concerned about uprooting our family from Fort Worth, where we have strong connections and support, and quality medical care for our child with cystic fibrosis. In the end, we have agreed to part ways, TNT and me.

So, a new chapter of life begins soon.

Welcome All Candidates.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 05:35:00 +0000

Jacob tells Hurley to lure Jack to the lighthouse. When Dogen confronts Hurley in the temple, Jacob tells Hurley to tell him that he’s a candidate and he can do what he wants. Dogen responds to this and leaves. Jacob insists that Hurley can’t accomplish the task without Jack.

Jack follows Hurley to the lighthouse, as lured. When they get there, there are names on the wheel with the associated numbers. I missed it, but Lostpedia notes that Austen is listed, so, apparently, Kate’s not excluded, though we didn’t see her on the cave wall.

The most interesting thing this episode was Jack seeing reflections in the lighthouse mirror as the wheel rotated through the names. He saw his childhood home, demanded answers from Hurley who didn’t have them, then he broke the mirror, in typical Jack fashion. Jack is frustrating to watch, and definitely not one of my favorite characters. But, clearly, he has a role in this process. And, I appreciate his confusion in figuring out his path. Unlike Hurley, Jack can’t accept simple instructions, and has to figure things out on his own. Much to Jack’s detriment, he takes the long way around, whereas Hurley has the calm and innate ability to see and hear what he needs to in order to accomplish the tasks he is called to do.

We’d all do better to be more like Hurley and less like Jack. Not so easy always, though.

The flash sideways bored me, again. Alt-Jack tries to be a good father to son David. He shows up at his conservatory audition to hear him play. The signs says “Welcome All Candidates.” I saw it, but didn’t associate it with the island term “candidate” until I read that on Lostpedia.

The Claire in the jungle scenes didn’t grab me. She axed the Other. Fine. She’s playing Jin and he her. I still wonder how she’s become so Rousseau like, and where she picked up her survival skills. I guess the friendly not-Locke taught her.

This week’s Lostpedia entry is not fleshed out yet, so not much to read now, but some basic bullet points. Wonder what else I missed. But, overall, this episode was not a thrill for me. Where are all the answers they keep promising???

Theater 9.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 01:58:00 +0000

Tonight my nine-year-old is struggling to get her homework done. She is having trouble concentrating. She keeps getting up, over and over again. We keep directing her back. “Everyone is being mean!” she says.

The waterworks are going. The theatrics are high. My patience is thin.

She has been in time out. I have a wooden spoon next to me. (Somehow that tactic was more effective when my mother did it. We snapped into compliance the minute the drawer opened, and I don’t recall ever getting spanked with it. Not Ella.) We have raised our arms up and tried deep breathing together. No dice. Finally, I sent her to her room to calm down. She slammed her door. I suggested some prayers to clam down and left her alone for a few minutes. She got calm and quiet.

I went to check on her to ask if she was able to stay calm and get back to homework. We were headed in the right direction until she realized that she had broken an elephant when she slammed the door. I heard some more blubbering. So far, though, she’s doing homework with her mother.

Uh oh, she’s up from the table again. Isn’t it bedtime yet?

Chupacabra.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 03:15:00 +0000

With the weather, our back yard has no living grass and it’s often a mud pit. Double likes to dig in the dirt and roll in the mud. His usual long curly coat is a perfect mop to collect dirt and debris. He brings leaves and dead grass into the house. And, the kitchen floor is often covered in a fine dusting of backyard dirt.

Saturday morning, we took Double to the vet for a couple of shots he needed. I asked for a grooming as well. We dropped him off at 9:15 am or so. We came back around 12:40pm. The groomer was not done. We waited for what seemed like an hour, and was actually about that long, if not a bit longer, actually. They closed at 1pm and we were there long past closing.

Finally, they brought our dog out. Or, they brought out some creature. I think it was a chupacabra. But, as they didn’t have anything else that looked like Double, we took the thing home.

In the groomer’s defense, I had asked for him to be shaved. The last time we had him groomed at the vet, they shaved his fur to about one inch or so all over. Short, but cute. After that, we got him done at Petco once. They just barely clipped him, making the cost of the grooming seem like a total waste. At the rates they charge for grooming, I don’t want to do it often. Also, he doesn’t let me pull the hair from his ears, so we have to have that professionally done, so he doesn’t get infected. I still think that is a gross trait of these furry dogs. Ack.

This time, I said “shaved” to be sure we got it short again. WOW. We don’t have to worry about it growing back too soon. Low-res pics from my phone, with the glare from his retinas, add to the effect. Don’t you think? Obviously, we still have lots to learn about how to get a Labradoodle properly groomed.

One good thing is that we can now see how scrawny he really is. This dog needs to eat more. I just gave him a bath (actually a shower) recently, and, truly, even soaking wet, he looked much larger with all of the thick fur he had. He’s a fraction of the dog he was on Friday. Before you call the Humane Society, know that we have already increased the amount of food he gets.

All I can say is… fur… PLEASE grow back soon.

White On White.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 04:48:00 +0000

Admittedly, I’m not much of a sports fan in general. I don’t care much at all about the major sports that most of America watches, football, basketball, baseball. I figure that growing up with asthma and virtually no coordination probably had an impact on my lack of interest in some of those activities that most kids could do.

Certain sports are more appealing to me though. Tennis I like. The 2009 Wimbledon men’s final match was gripping. I like to watch the Williams sisters whomp up on their opponents, or did in their heyday. Kids’ soccer is fun. Some extreme sports I find interesting. We like to watch the Olympics at my house. Marian gets into the back stories. Funny, I remember that was the reason my mother would not watch the Olympics. I can take or leave them, but like the more interesting ones. I am intrigued to see the success of the more talented and hard-working athletes. Anytime someone has truly found a niche, and maximizes his strengths in an incredible way, it’s hard not to appreciate that. The Olympics obviously highlights that sort of triumph in a big way.

This year, I have not yet watched much of the Olympics. However, last night, I did have the pleasure of watching Shaun White win the gold, again. His first run on the half pipe amazed me. I don’t follow snowboarding enough to know all the terms, or understand the nuances of the tricks. But, even for the casual observer, Shaun White is truly entertaining to watch. His athleticism is incredible, no doubt. The height on his first big air move had WOW factor for me. And, the commentators emphasized this with various clips of his ability to surpass the competition in this way.

During the half pipe competition, they explained that the spray painted lines on the snow were done to help the athletes perceive the distance and height, as all that white snow makes it hard to tell where they are. Clearly, the paint doesn’t make it easy. Many of them fell on their asses anyway. Of course they did. Those tricks are hard. But, not for Shaun White. He makes that stuff look easy. I read some interesting facts about White. He skateboards competitively and wins that too. Obviously, they are similar. But, perfecting both, at the highest levels, is remarkable. Shaun has a a congenital heart defect, and dealt with bow-leggedness too. The perfect Olympic storyline, right?

Shaun’s final run last night impressed me. He had the gold secured from his first run, with high enough points already. No need to even do the second one, as none of the competitors beat his first score in either of their two runs. I laughed as he debated whether to even do it. “Should I just go straight down the middle,” he said. True to form, though, he delivered the goods with style. He made a final run for the fans, complete with his new trade mark trick, the Double McTwist 1260, at the end. Who wouldn’t be impressed?

In the next room, Marian is watching men’s figure skating. I think I’ll go find my Kindle and read until I fall asleep.

The Black Rock.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 06:20:00 +0000

It seems clear that the alternate timeline includes more changes than just the plane not crashing.

When we saw Desmond on the plane previously, I assumed that in the alt timeline, he never got stuck on the island, because the island was blown up when he sailed Libby’s boat in the race. So, his presence on the plane didn’t necessarily throw me too much.

When we saw Ethan at the hospital with Claire, I assumed he was never called to the island, as it was blown up before the others brought him there.

So, Desmond’s and Ethan’s alt-realties still could have fit with the basic island-blew-up-but-otherwise things are basically as they would have been theme.

This week, though…

Hugo owns multiple companies, apparently evidencing that he does in fact have good luck in alt-world.

Locke was still with his girlfriend. And, apparently, he has an ongoing relationship with his father, as the girlfriend suggested that they include the dad in her proposed plans for an impromptu small wedding. Why would Locke invite the dad, if the dad had been the one to paralyze him. Clearly, alt-Locke is paralyzed for another reason.

Ben Linus in the teacher’s lounge as a history teacher? Ben should have been on the island when the bomb blew, right? So, how is he around in alt-world in LA?

Rose works for Hugo? But, her persona is the same, strong willed and terminally ill with cancer.

Timeline questions aside…

I am curious about the developing story of the Nemesis. Clearly, he’s portrayed as the symbolic bad guy. He wore the black shirt, as he and Jacob watched the Black Rock sail in at the flash back in last year’s season finale. He is the smoke monster. He kills people. He manipulated Ben into killing Jacob. He attacked Richard. The temple residents don’t like him. Richard told James he is going to try to kill all the LOSTies. This week, the Nemesis lured James to the cliff side cave. When they got there, he threw the white stone into the ocean. He portrays Jacob as the one misleading the LOSTies. Of course, I am anticipating a twist. Is he really the bad one?

Actually, I suspect it is going to be vague, and left for the viewer to decide who is good and who is bad. Maybe they will be presented as two sides of a necessary struggle, not necessarily good and bad.

Remember the scale in the cave. The Nemesis threw the white stone into the ocean, presumably implying his attempt to thwart Jacob’s power. The scales were tipped in the favor of the Nemesis. I assume we are to infer that the balance between Jacob and the Nemesis makes things on the island work properly. Yin and Yang? The current imbalance may present a new chaos, which will be the struggle for the LOSTies to resolve by the end of the season, in order to return everyone to their rightful place in the universe.

So… what did James choose by denying his right to stay on the island and do nothing or his option to assume the supposedly available role of the leader, and instead leave the island with the Nemesis? My guess is the Nemesis will attempt to send James into the rocks at the bottom of the cliff outside the cave opening. He had to lead James to the cave to give him his choice, a free will thing, I suspect. Surely, though, there was deception in the presentation of the options.

What were the numbers assigned to the LOSTies? Planes have numbered rows with lettered seats. I’m not aware of the LOSTies’ seating positions or if the numbers assigned could reference their row numbers on the plane. But, that was my first thought.

The line that intrigued me most was Ben admitting that he murdered Locke at the burial.

Not a bad episode. But, it’s moving a little slowly. Come on with ANSWERS!

V-Day Cancellation.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 06:35:00 +0000

Valentine's Day seems like a silly Hallmark holiday to me. We never really do much. Crowded restaurants. Obligatory flower arrangements. Forced sentiments. It all seems silly.

However, this weekend, my wife and I had plans to spend two nights away, without the kids. We had reservations at a hotel in Dallas, which is not far, but seems like another place all together to us. We have not been away for a weekend together without the kids in five years. This was going to be a big deal!

Unfortunately, we decided to cancel. The weather in north Texas is snowy and cold. The road conditions tomorrow are likely to be bad. More to the point, my wife has a sore throat and a bad cough. She seems exhausted. We had not packed. At dinner tonight, the kids were loud and rowdy. They're wound up, after an early school closure today and with an all-day closure already planned for tomorrow. Anyway, nothing seemed to be coming together to make this weekend getaway seem sensible. We decided to scrap it.

Fortunately, the Hilton customer service rep I spoke with was very kind. On her own, she asked why I was cancelling. I said my wife was not feeling well. She put me on hold for a long time, but then came back and reported that they would in fact credit back my HHonors points, even though we had missed the cancellation deadline for a point refund. VERY NICE. One bright spot in this disappointing circumstance.

Hopefully, we’ll find time to reschedule and try this again. I know we could use the time together for a break from reality. Once every five years isn’t too much to ask, is it?

Who Cares About Kate?

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 05:54:00 +0000

So, on this week’s episode, alt Kate runs off with Claire in the hijacked taxicab, steals her purse, drops her on the side of the road and goes back for her after she gets out of the handcuffs. Strange. But, I guess it’s good to see the sensible, kinder side of Kate. I like alt Kate better than island Kate this week. However, I was glad to see that island Kate was going to find Claire not just to chase Sawyer when she fled the temple.

So, what’s up with Sayid’s infection? Presumably, we’re to infer that the Nemesis has infected him. I don’t think it makes sense that it’s Jacob as the infection, given what we’ve been led to believe so far. But, the twisting is yet to be revealed, I’m sure.

Very interesting that Claire has become Rousseauesque, a crazy-disheveled-island-woman renegade with a rifle and jungle traps. So, if Sayid has what she has, it seems that they have what Rousseau’s team had, which made Rousseau shoot them. Then, was Rousseau infected as well? She was semi crazy, but seemingly not as crazy her team had become. Right? Am I confused?

The important questions in my mind are to do with the island, the spirituality of the inhabitants and the intentions of the leaders. So, let’s get on with that already, please.

I am very intrigued by this new Dogen character. Who is he? How does he fit into the island hierarchy amongst the Others? How does he stand as compared to Ben, Richard, Jacob and the Nemesis? His persona suggests he is high ranking. I suspect he’s higher than Ben and Richard. I wonder how he relates to Jacob and the Nemesis.

What about the Nemesis? Is he in his natural state as the smoke monster? Or, he is more naturally in human form as the man in black talking to Jacob at the end of last season? If he’s the island’s security system, there to protect it from outside influences and threats, why does Jacob go against that? What is the nature of each of their roles, Jacob’s and the Nemesis’? Is Jacob really the good guy?

LA Z

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 06:48:00 +0000

On Thursday, I flew to California. Just a long weekend away. A break from the mundane. Getting away from it all. No real plans.

I was born in California. Lived there until I turned three. I don’t go often, but it always feels like home in a way. I have some relatives still there.

Stayed with my hugely pregnant cousin, who’s due at the end of this month. We hung out. Watched some TV. On my first evening in town, she had to go to a continuing education class, for her dental hygiene license.

I babysat my four-year-old first cousin once removed. We played Barbies. Ken’s pants wouldn’t stay on. My little cousin referred to me as “the boy” the first couple of days. I’m 41 little girl. Don’t you see all this gray, thinning hair? By the end of the trip, I had a name. She digs me. It’s mutual.

On my second day there, we ventured to Long Beach. My request. It was cold, windy, and raining. My cousin and I stood under an umbrella staring at ugly old barges anchored off shore. The little girl collected some seashells. My aunt walked to the water’s edge and dug holes looking for crabs. Paying not enough attention to the waves rolling in, she missed the rhythm of the sea and failed to see a large one coming in. Seeing it from a distance, I announced casually, “That one’s going to get her.” It hit her mid calf. Leather boots soaked. We made a break for it after about 10 minutes. Sandra Bullock supposedly has a house down the beach from where we stood, we drove by. Saw no evidence of fame, but fortune was present. Found a restaurant, where we met an old friend. Lunch was the special: $.69 cheeseburgers for everyone but me. Avoiding red meat, I chose salmon.

Third day, we went to Pasadena, after a quick drive through San Marino, which is always nice to spectate. Ate at Houston’s, as if we don’t have that in Texas. Hello. ‘Twas good though.

My aunt, lives down the street. She’s an extra mom to me. Unlike my real mom, she’s a cancer survivor, with charm and sass. She came over and cooked us awesome food, much of which she learned from my Irish grandmother, not my Italian grandfather. Cappelini. Manicotti. Split pea soup. Wings. Italian sandwiches filled with heavy meats I never eat, but did. She loves Italian cheeses.

I read some books on my new Kindle. Dined at Tio’s, a Mexican hole-in-the-wall place, twice. Cold. Wet. Rainy. Monday, the sunniest, nicest day there, was my last. Flew out after lunch. It was a LA Z weekend full of eating and reading and doing a lot of not much. Perfect.

LOST Yet?

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 13:00:00 +0000

Despite numerous allegories and metaphors presented throughout the series, it seems clear that LOST makes no attempt to parallel closely Bible stories, other those of religious faiths, or any of the myriad literary works alluded to within the episodes. The references are entertaining, of course, and they encourage obsessive pondering and banter amongst addicted fans.

To me, what makes the show worth watching is the originality and complexity, which is enhanced by all the name dropping and theme suggesting.

What really grabs me about this show is that it is simultaneously intrguing and a bit frustrating to find myself fixated on a particular scene or fact.

For example:

WHY WAS THAT STATUE'S FOOT AT THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN?

WHEN JULIETTE HIT THE BOMB, DID IT IN FACT EXPLODE, OR WAS THERE MERELY ANOTHER TIME WARP FLASH?

IF THE BOMB EXPLODED, DID THE EXPLOSION CREATE A SPIN OFF OF SEPARATE REALITIES?

IN THE REALITY IN WHICH THE BOMB EXPLODED... AT THAT TIME...

WAS THE FOOT AT THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN INTENDED TO SHOW THAT THE ENTIRE ISLAND EXPLODED WITH THE NUKE AND THE STATUE WAS SUNK? (IT WAS PRESENTED AS THE SAME REALITY IN WHICH THE LOSTIES' PLANE DIDN'T CRASH, AS THE SCENE PANNED FROM THE VIEW OUT THE PLANE WINDOW INTO THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN WHERE THE FOOT WAS.)

SO EVERYONE DIED?

WHY WAS IT OKAY WITH THE LOSTIES TO DETONATE THE NUKE AND BLOW UP THE ISLAND? EVEN IF THEY COULD TRASCEND TIME FOR THEMSELVES, BACK TO THE TIME BEFORE THEY CRASHED, WHAT ABOUT THE PEOPLE WHO GOT TO THE ISLAND VIA OTHER MEANS BEFORE THE CRASH, E.G., ALL THE DHARMA INITIATIVE PEOPLE, THE OTHERS (AKA THE HOSTILES), JULIETTE HERSELF? WOULDN'T THEY ALL JUST DIE?

IN THE REALITY IN WHICH THE PLANE NEVER CRASHED, FACTS FROM before THE CRASH TOOK PLACE WERE CHANGED... WHY?

WHY WAS DESMOND ON BOARD?

WHY WAS CHRISTIAN'S BODY LOST? WHERE IS IT?

WHERE WAS SHANNON? (BOONE SAID HE COULDN'T GET HER TO LEAVE THE ABUSIVE BOYFRIEND.)

DID ANYONE ELSE THINK OF ROSE ON THAT PLANE? IF SHE DIDN'T END UP ON THE ISLAND, SHE'D STILL HAVE CANCER. OR DOES SHE?

IN THE REALITY IN WHICH THEY TRANSPORTED TO THE TIME AFTER THE HATCH EXPLOSION...

DID JULIETTE DIE FROM FALLING DOWN THE WELL, OR FROM HAVING ALL THAT HATCH DEBRIS SMASHED ON TOP OF HER? I GUESS THE FALL.

WHY DID JACOB WANT TO SAVE SAYID?

WHY DIDN'T HE WANT TO SAVE JULIETTE? (WHEN JACOB CAME TO HURLY, JULIETTE WAS STILL ALIVE.)

SO... IN THIS REALITY... WHERE THE LOSTIES WARPED TO THE POST-HATCH EXPLOSION TIME PERIOD, THEY ARE NOW IN THE SAME TIME (PRESENT TIME) AS THE LOSTIES WHO DIDN'T WARP TO THE 70s AFTER THE SECOND CRASH...

THE CLUE WAS... WHEN WHEN JACK, SAWYER, HURLY, JULIETTE AND JIN TOOK SAYID TO THE TEMPLE TO BE HEALED, THE TEMPLE WORSHIPPERS WERE CONCERNED WHEN THEY LEARNED JACOB WAS DEAD... AND THEY SHOT OFF THE FIREWORKS AS A WARNING... THE MAN WHO PRESENTED HIMSELF AS LOCKE (THE SMOKE MONSTER, THE MAN WHO SAT ON THE BEACH WITH JACOB AS THE BLACK ROCK SAILED IN, THE ONE WHO MANIPULATED BEN INTO KILLING JACOB) LOOKED UP AND SAW THE FIREWORKS.

WHY DOES HE WANT TO GO HOME? WHERE'S HOME? THE TEMPLE?

DID HE KILL OR JUST KNOCK OUT RICHARD? WHY?

HAS RICHARD EVER MET JACOB?

WHY HADN'T BEN MET JACOB?

ARE THE PEOPLE AT THE TEMPLE DIFFERENT FROM THE HOSTILES/OTHERS? THEY SEEM TO HAVE THEIR OWN ASIAN, ENGLISH-HATING LEADER, WHICH SEEMS DISTINCT FROM FROM THE GROUP LED BY BEN.

YET... THE TEMPLE PEOPLE CARE ABOUT JACOB, OBVIOUSLY. WHY WAS JACOB LIVING UNDER THE STATUE AND NOT WITH THEM?

HOW DOES CHRISTIAN FIT IN? HE WAS IN JACOB'S CABIN AND MANY ASSUMED HE WAS JACOB OR CONNECTED TO JACOB. BUT, WAS THAT INSTEAD THE ANTAGONIST (SMOKE MONSTER) PRESENTING HIMSELF AS CHRISTIAN, THE SAME WAY HE LATER PRESENTED HIMSELF AS LOCKE?

IF THE ANTAGONIST (JACOB'S ENEMY) IS THE SMOKE MONSTER, HOW DID BEN UNLEASH THE SMOKE MONSTER TO DO HIS BIDDING AGAINST WIDMORE'S CREW WHO CAME TO KILL HIM? WHY WOULD HE HELP BEN?

OH... JIN AND SUN CAN BE REUNITED NOW.

Okay, that's all the questions I'll pose for this week. Insights welcome via the blog comments section.

The plot thickens. The story moves on. The twists continue. Millions are lost in LOST. I've heard and seen all kinds of theories. I think the writers have the viewers right where they want them, entranced and speculating.

Until next week...

LOST Starts Tomorrow!

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 01:42:00 +0000

At the risk of my blog turning into a LOST fan page, I am posting my thoughts BEFORE the final season begins tomorrow, knowing that I will surely post more on the topic as the season progresses.

Marian and I watched seasons through three the summer before last in a LOST marathon. I’m not sure how long it took, but it wasn’t long. Once the kids were in bed, we’d put on a DVD and get LOST. We were both into it. That in itself says something, as we don’t often like the same TV shows. Marian missed some episodes and got confused, and then her interest decreased, especially as the the plot got more convoluted. Last year, she didn’t really watch with me much. Hopefully, she’ll come back for the final season.

I like the complexity and the Sci-Fi-ness of LOST. Marian enjoys the character profiles and the flashbacks that tell their back stories. Decent acting. Interesting twists. Science. History. Metaphysics. Religion. Time Travel. There’s something for everyone.

Admittedly, the show gets convoluted at times. Who wasn’t frustrated during the second season? Sometimes the twists are nonsensical. Sometimes the characters do stupid and unbelievable things. Sometimes the fantastic nature of the LOST world is too much. But, once you’re hooked, like me, it’s hard to disconnect from this show.

I am very interested to see how it wraps up. What’s with the four-toed statue? What is the smoke monster? Why were the original LOSTies on that plane? Are the “dead” characters really dead? Will they come back? Who were Adam and Eve? Is there greater significance in the numbers yet to be revealed? The questions are endless.

Need A Needle?

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 20:39:00 +0000

A couple of years ago, as mentioned previously on this blog, I encountered a series of medical maladies. I suffered all kinds of aches, pains, infections, discomforts, fatigue. The list went on. Some things were diagnosed. Some things were treated. Some things left the doctors scratching their heads. The experience was stressful. I was not well. I saw my primary care physician a dozen times in the course of a year. I saw specialists. I even went to the ER once, because I wasn’t getting answers and wasn’t getting help. The ER visit didn’t help either.

In the process, I decided to try alternative medicine.

My mother was always holistic in her approach to healthcare. She was NEVER sick. Well, okay, at 65, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died one month later. But, before that, she was never sick. I’m not sure when my mom converted to alternative health care. I know that she had a hysterectomy (partial, I believe), when I was young, elementary school age. I think that had something to do with her views. At some point along the way, she stopped drinking sodas. She stopped eating junk food. She eventually starting using whole-wheat flour. She later tried to avoid any flour. She constantly extolled the virtues of healthier eating. Chemicals in food and in the environment became a concern for her. My mother was notorious for passing out articles she’d find on various health topics. For example, she ranted about aspartame for years. She warned of hydrogenated oils long before the widespread concern over trans fat began. My mom was generally introverted, much more so than I, but on the topic of health, she could get on a soap box at times, especially with someone she thought might listen. Admittedly, I ignored her most of the time.

In the face of various medical symptoms and no answers from the traditional doctors, I eventually realized I needed to broaden my perspective. I was hesitant, concerned and unsure what to do. Somewhere along the line, alternative medicine became more appealing.

I started with a chiropractor. I had seen one previously for a bad crick in my neck. He fixed that. So, I went back to ask questions and try an adjustment. I didn’t get answers that satisfied me and the adjustment made no impact. However, in conversation, the chiropractor casually mentioned an acupuncturist that was going to trade services with him. I didn’t ask any questions. I didn’t even get the name. But, I remember at the time, that word, ACUPUNCTURIST, seemed to linger in the air, as if waiting for me to take notice.

I prayed about it. While I was in the ER, waiting on blood work results, it was seemingly clear to me that I was going to get nothing from that trip. I prayed almost constantly in my ER exam room, interrupted only when a tech, nurse or doctor came in. Before I left that place, I knew my next stop likely would be at an acupuncturist’s office.

I found Hwa Tow Acupuncture & Herbs by searching online. Arriving for my first appointment, I was unsure about my choice. The ambience was Asian. As such, it was unfamiliar to me. I had no idea what to expect. Would it hurt? Would it work? Is acupuncture valid, or is it just all hooey? How can tiny needles really do anything anyway? But… The place was clean. There was a Bible on the waiting room table. The receptionist was nice. As it turns out, she was the acupuncturist’s wife. It seemed okay to me.

The acupuncturist, Jeff (his American name no doubt) is from Taiwan. I liked him right away. He was pleasant, courteous, direct and matter of fact. He took some basic information about my symptoms. He didn’t waste much time. I got on the table and he inserted the needles. For my symptoms, I got several in my back and legs. Eventually, I got them in the hands and arms and feet too. The needles didn’t hurt. On two occasions, Jeff attached the needles to a device that sent electric pulses through my body. The first time was jolting. It was hard to tolerate, but my body settled down after 15 minutes or so. His efforts made a significant improvement in my pain symptoms. But, I didn’t see further improvement following the last couple of sessions. At twice a week visits, the expense was adding up quickly. So, I stopped.

I eventually found other ways to manage the pain. Prayer and relaxation were the primary methods I used. Thankfully, the pain symptoms I had improved tremendously over time.

Later, when I decided to address my digestive problems, I encountered the same lack of resolution from the western medicine efforts I tried. So, I went back to acupuncture. As much as I liked Jeff, and I would certainly go back to him, I wanted to be able to communicate the details of my complicated digestive issues more easily. So, I searched for a native English speaker.

I found Kim at Center for the Healing Arts. I’ve gotten needles in the face, ears, head, arms, hands, stomach, legs and feet. Similar routine of Q&A and needles. Kim takes plenty of time on the Q&A, which I appreciated, given the complexity of my longstanding digestive dysfunction. Again, the needles do not hurt. I can think of a couple of occasions when I have had stiffness in my hand after a needle was placed between the thumb and forefinger. Once, she used moxibustion, a technique in which a strong smelling, smoldering root heats the ends of the needles.

One of the most remarkable things I can say about Chinese medicine is the herbs. The most impressive was an herbal blend for intestinal issues. When I first went for treatment, my digestion was horrible. My stomach gurgled nearly constantly. Loudly! Those herbs stopped the noise and rumbling within 30 minutes, consistently. At first, I had to take five capsules at a time three times per day. But, I gradually decreased the dosage. Now, I keep them on hand, just in case, but rarely need them. I regularly take a Chinese herbal blend for sinus congestion that works as well or better than any over-the-counter or prescription medication I have taken. My intention is to keep this stuff on hand as long as I can get it. And, I have taken another herbal blend with noticeable results as well. Those herbs are good stuff. And, I have never noticed side effects from them, whereas I have often noticed side effects from OTC and prescription meds.

To me, the needles are interesting. I do not get an immediate result from them. So, it’s hard to sense exactly what they do. However, the immediate effect in the moment is relaxing. In fact, it’s probably worth it just for the relaxation.

My understanding of Chinese medicine theory is minimal. The gist, as I know it, is that energy from the environment flows through our body along pathways called meridians. The energy can become blocked for various reasons. Blockage causes illness. The goal of Chinese medicine, via the herbs and needles, is to release the energy, i.e., to eliminate the stagnation, restore the flow and thereby promote health. Admittedly, my conceptualization is rudimentary at best. And, my ability to apply the theory to my own experience is minimal.

At the same time, I am convinced that there is something to all this. While it seemed like hooey to me at first, I now believe that energy around us flows through us and relates to our wellness. Although I can’t really understand it well, I am sure that whatever those needles do has an impact on my health. Over time, my health has improved dramatically. I have seen marked differences in symptoms of pain, fatigue and digestive dysfunction. I have no doubt that the efforts to improve the flow of energy has been useful for me. Personally, I am intrigued to better understand the process, though I have not yet devoted the time to study it. Nevertheless, I do not hesitate to suggest acupuncture to friends and family members whose medical matters are not resolved via traditional means.

Dare to Seek Digestive Health.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 22:07:00 +0000

For many years, I endured digestive dysfunction quietly. I had no desire to discuss it. I had no intention of addressing it. I hoped to avoid it into oblivion.

I can’t say exactly when it started, but I recall having occasional issues even as a teen. Mostly, though, at that age, I could eat what I wanted, without much problem. The first problematic experience I recall was on a trip to Italy my senior year of high school. Something I ate disagreed with me, severely, and I had to make a mad dash for a restroom. Luckily, there was one not far away, and there was sufficient privacy.

Over the years, the problem worsened, slowly but surely. During college, I went to Mexico. On the last day there, I got a severe case of Montezuma’s revenge. It was horrendous. Somehow, I managed to make it through a long morning of waiting at the airport, a mechanical problem on the plane that delayed our take off for nearly an hour, then a flight and car ride home before the expulsion began. It was bad. I have read, and heard from medical professionals, that serious infections like that truly can throw off digestive health for years. And, quite honestly, I don’t think my digestion was ever the same after that.

As an adult, I learned to avoid certain foods. Anything high fat. Too much caffeine. Anything battered and fried. Liquid cheese. Asparagus, of all things. Any combination of any of those, especially if I was under stress as well, and the consequences were often significantly unpleasant. For the most part, my life was not significantly hindered. I knew what to avoid. But, there were times when I would not eat, or wouldn’t eat much, if I knew I wouldn’t be home soon, just in case. Life just required a little planning. For example, on road trips, McDonald’s hamburger Happy Meals were my choice, always, because I knew my stomach could tolerate that amount of meat and fat, and the caffeine in one small diet coke was not enough to push me over the edge.

Eventually, though, as I aged, as life took it’s toll, as stress increased, my digestion got slowly worse. A few years ago, I endured a series of complicated medical issues that caused me much stress. For months, I dealt with doctors to address various ailments and pains. I was poked and prodded in every unimaginable place. I had tests and scans and blood work. The minor symptoms went away, but they could not resolve the major ones. Throughout that medical mystery tour, I dared not address the digestive health. Somehow that seemed too much, a line I was not ready to cross. I just kept it quiet, hoping it would get better. The digestive dysfunction was one problem that I knew how to live with, even as bad as it was getting, and I was not ready to face it down.

However, during all the stress and strain of the other medical problems, my digestion got completely out of whack. At the worst of it, I could not eat. I lost 10 to 15 pounds, rather quickly. And, everything I tried to eat went straight through me. I went nearly a year with chronic diarrhea. I don’t say that lightly or casually. I’ll spare the graphic details, but know that it was awful. Horrible.

Finally, in the face of that trying time, I had to address the digestion. Because I had so many other symptoms and peripheral medical maladies, I began to think perhaps I had a very serious illness. Maybe the digestive problems were more than just my usual problem getting worse. Maybe there was cancer? So, I went back to my MD, who by then surely thought I was crazy. He did no exam. He ran no tests. He shrugged his shoulders and diagnosed me with IBS, based on my verbal descriptions. He gave me some pills to treat that disorder and sent me on my way.

The medication slowed everything down almost immediately, causing the opposite problem, constipation, which was a rarity for me. Because I expressed concern about having stress and anxiety over the medical issues, especially the digestive matter, he also gave me an antidepressant. Within a couple of days, I had more side effects than benefits from both of the pills. I threw the prescriptions out.

I went to the health food store to get something natural. My doctor had discouraged this, stating “that’s just somebody trying to sell you something that doesn’t work.” However, by then, I was sure he didn’t have all the answers, because he sure hadn’t helped me much. I found the first clerk in the store and gave her an earful of my digestive history. She recommended a few products and I bought them all. I ended up calling the maker of one of the products. I did my own research. I saw some benefits fairly soon, but I was not convinced I was on the right track.

I scheduled an appointment with an acupuncturist. I had been to one before to treat other symptoms. And, by this point, I was glad to have a non-MD on my side to help me fix this. The needle sessions were relaxing. The input was useful. The process was slow. But, I felt more convinced I was on the right track. And, I got some seemingly magical Chinese herbs that fixed the near constant stomach gurgling I was experiencing. Amazing. At first, I had to take 15 capsules per day of those herbs. But, over time, I reduced the dosage. Now, I almost never take them, but keep a bottle on hand, just in case.

I went back to the health food store to ask questions. The manager all but insisted that I go to a gastroenterologist to rule out anything serious. She fed into my worst fears and I was nearly terrified of cancer by the time I left the store. I called my doctor’s office for a referral to a gastroenterologist from the parking lot.

I got the standard scopes in both directions. Interestingly, they found a polyp in the colon and one in the stomach, as well as inflammation in the duodenum. The biopsies were clear. The various other tests showed nothing serious. The only advice I got was to take Nexxium for six weeks. I was glad to get cancer ruled out, but I had no real solutions for my problems. I never took even one little purple pill. Further, based on the lab report that said my duodenitis was likely from NSAID damage, I stopped taking Advil completely.

Throughout all this, I researched holistic options for healing digestion several times. I came across a web site by a woman who claimed to heal her own severe case of Crohn’s Disease using only holistic methods, after reaching the point of dissatisfaction and frustration with her western doctors. Jini Patel Thompson went on a quest to find the means to heal herself without drugs or surgery and she was successful. In the process, she learned a lot about a wide range of digestive health issues and the means to address them with holistic remedies. Consequently, she wrote a book about all her experiences and all the knowledge she gained. She explains that is possible to heal the body and fix digestion problems holistically, even in extreme cases. Eventually, after working through my hesitation over buying an online book that suggested to readers to try to heal themselves as opposed to relying on trained doctors, I got the book.

For more information, visit Jini’s site, Listen To Your Gut.

Jini is not a medical professional of any kind. However, on the subject of digestive disorders, she seems to know more than any of the medical professionals I saw. And, she is full of practical advice that gets results, again using holistic methods, not synthetic drugs or surgery. Admittedly, her style was a bit too touchy feely for me, especially at first. And, much of the content in her book, “Listen to Your Gut,” didn’t apply to me. I don’t have Crohn’s Disease or Ulcerative Colitis or any of the more severe gastrointestinal diseases. Fortunately, Jini’s book covers a broad spectrum and even people with IBS, including a severe case like mine, can benefit from sections of her book. I was able to thumb through some chapters with a sigh of relief that I didn’t need to go to such extremes. I paid very close attention to other chapters that had direct relevance to my experience.

I bought the book just before leaving town on a trip that was both business and pleasure. The first day was business, and I needed to be away from my hotel all day, including a lengthy dinner at a fancy restaurant. This came at a time when my digestion was at its worst. The morning of my departure, I bought one of the supplements recommended in Jini’s book, L-glutamine. I saw results right away. It was not a quick cure, by any means. But, there were much needed benefits, which made my traveling easier. From the beginning, it was clear that the book was worth every penny. Eventually, I gained other useful information that made a tremendous difference in my digestive functioning. Now, I do not hesitate to recommend “Listen to Your Gut” to anyone with digestive dysfunction.

Although the book does not promise quick fixes, it outlines various steps to take that have a restorative effect on the digestive system. Over time, with patience and endurance, healing takes place. It did for me. The book was a life saver. I have never met Jini Patel Thompson face to face. Nevertheless, because of the impact that her wisdom and experience has had on my health, I won’t forget her.

The recommended supplements that helped me the most were probiotics, L-glutamine and psyllium seed husks. “Listen to Your Gut” explains why these items are useful and how to take them. My experience was very positive, again, over time.

Probiotics are vital for someone in the state I was in. I take the brand that Jini touts in her book. Even before I read the book, my health food store recommended the same product, Natren Healthy Trinity. I started with the capsules, and even used the more intense and more expensive powders for a while. During the string of medical problems I encountered, I took about six courses of antibiotics over the span of six months. There are lots of concerns about antibiotics. One of them is that in addition to killing problematic bacteria, they also kill off the good bacteria that the body needs for proper digestion. My digestion was already bad. And, the antibiotics I took made it worse. I had to rebuild the good bacteria. Natren’s probiotics helped me. I have stopped and restarted the probiotics a few times. So far, they continue to make a difference, though I’m not convinced I’ll always need to take them consistently.

L-glutamine is an amino acid that, when taken before eating, helps the colon absorb liquid. Initially, I desperately needed that sort of help. And, it worked. I no longer take this, but I would, if needed.

Psyllium seed husks make a remarkable difference. I had always thought Metamucil and the like was for old people with constipation, not for the digestively impaired with the opposite problem, like me. Not true. Metamucil helped me. I now take another brand of this fiber that my health food store sells, Yerba Prima, and, I also take cold milled flax seed. The results are impressive.

It was a long, slow process. I have taken the supplements for well over a year. I have continued with acupuncture as well. But, the results are worth it. Now, my digestion is better than it has been in many years. I still have to be cautious. I likely will never eat much of anything battered and fried. I have not eaten asparagus in many years, and have no intention of trying it. But, I can eat a much wider range of things than I once could. I can have caffeine in mild doses. My digestive system functions much more normally now. I feel much better overall. All is well.

An interesting thing I learned is that MANY people suffer with digestive dysfunction in various forms. In my quest to heal my intestines, I talked to lots of folks who have all kinds of problems. Many of them try to manage it themselves, avoiding foods, carefully refraining from mixing certain problematic items, and recognizing the role stress plays. I know that some people prefer not to take medications. In so doing, some tend to avoid holistic or natural remedies as well. I believe that they miss the opportunity to see great results without the side effects that prescription meds can cause.

Now, I am sort of a spokesperson for digestive health. When I encounter people who have these difficulties, I give them my story, or at least parts of it, and I encourage them to dig deeper and fix the problem. It can be done, with patience and perseverance.

If you’re one of the millions of people with digestive health problems… Go ahead. I dare you. Seek digestive health via natural means.

God Speaks With Humor.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 04:19:00 +0000

Today, my wife and I went together to a doctor’s appointment. We went to discuss some medical options to address a matter of concern for us. While it is an important decision, there is no urgent health concern on the forefront. Nevertheless, the situation requires thought, preparation and agreement.

As we approached the appointment, Marian and I had differing views on the best solution, based on differing personal biases. Admittedly, we don’t quite see eye to eye on this one. In my newfound holistic approach to healthcare concerns, where possible, I tend to prefer simple solutions that don’t involve ongoing synthetic medicine. At the same time, I understand and accept the value of western medicine. In this case, a western approach suits me fine.

While Marian endures me politely, I don’t think she understands my holistic notions and certainly doesn’t share in them much. Also, in this instance, she has some perspectives based on emotion that I cannot relate to. Nevertheless, we both attempted to go in with open minds and hear the options and ask questions, so we could make an informed decision that we both can be comfortable with.

The doctor began by presenting option one, the solution I preferred from the onset. Risks are minimal. The process is simple. The solution is practical and very effective. I was smiling, eager to hear the input and pleased with what I heard. The doctor was detailed and covered all the bases. I was confident this was a good choice. Further, the doctor was so upbeat and positive, I felt sure I was correct. Marian was quiet, cautious and inquisitive, clearly not as responsive as I was to option one.

Then, the doctor moved on to option two. Option two was more in line with Marian’s preferences. As the doctor spoke, his eyes sparkled. His voice bounced. Marian sat up. Her face brightened. She was more interactive. I asked some questions, but the answers confirmed Marian’s interest, even as they confirmed my disinterest. As the exchange went on, I barely spoke. Though I tried not to show it, I felt somewhat irritable and at least mildly antagonistic. My posture changed. Then, sitting on the edge of my chair, I slid my feet out in front of me.

The chair quickly tipped forward and I splatted onto the floor. The incident was startling to all three of us, and it focused awkward attention on me for a moment. I got back up in my chair and regrouped mentally.

It was clear to me in an instant that the fall was no accident. In my heart, I knew that I didn’t fall out of that chair. God sent me to the floor. The doctor was giving many details that illustrated his view that option two probably made sense as the most viable solution for our situation. Marian was thrilled, as it fit her interest. I was not connecting the dots. I was not on board with the plan. And, I got a strong message. Thankfully, I realized it in the moment, and I did my best to refocus. By the end of the appointment, I acknowledged that I believed my wife had made the choice already. We agreed to think it over to solidify our decision, but I think we’re done with this one.

Admittedly, I still have reservations. If I were deciding alone, option one would be my choice, clearly. At the same time, in this case, the proper response would be to defer to Marian. Despite my knee-jerk reaction to Google every possible reason why option two is worse than option one, I am striving to refrain. Of course, I have looked up some information, so that we approach the matter with reasonable information. But, I won’t belabor the point.

For me, anything medically related involves research, questions and digging into the options with a goal of finding a holistic option if possible. If a traditional western approach is required, I want a practical, safe and sure solution. Marian does not take my approach and she includes an emotional perspective that differs from mine. Thankfully, though, I have peace of mind, knowing that God is in control, especially as he made His presence known to me today. His message to me was clear: in this case, my role is to listen and be supportive. Too bad I didn’t get it without being shoved into it.

Kids, Kids, and More Kids.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 02:20:00 +0000

Tonight, the second and third grader each have a friend over to spend the night.

I understand there was some drama before I got home. Screaming. Crying. Throwing of toys. Just another night at our house.

I came home with pizza, from Palio's. The last time we had kids over and served Palio’s it was a hit and there wasn’t a piece left. So, this time I bought more. Four pizzas. A chicken one with spinach and feta (for me). Vegetarian (for Marian). One pepperoni and one cheese (for the kids). The kids barely ate. My kids ate once piece each and started on their second. The friends each ate part of one piece. Part of one piece? And, Palio’s cuts their pizza into into small squares. Those poor kids are going to be hungry. Or, maybe a lot of junk was consumed before I got home?

Marian tells me that I shouldn’t have chosen whole wheat crust. Hmmm… I suppose that could be a factor. I like it. It seems healthier. What’s the difference? Do they even notice? But, there’s plenty of pizza left, and I ate a LOT myself, and I don’t even like pizza generally. So, mental note: kids don’t eat whole wheat pizza crust.

The dinner table conversation was wild. Bathroom humor in abundance. Try as you might, it’s not so easy to calm that down with six kids at the table. The four year old got right on board with those jokes. Someone said the word naked. What if… this… what if… that… bumping butts together? Oh no! And, yes, butts were bumped together, though, thankfully no one was anywhere near naked. Conversation over.

They’re in separate rooms now. Showers don’t fly when friends are over. The friends certainly don’t want to shower away from home. At their ages, I can understand, I think. I’m sort of a shower freak, and can’t really sleep if I don’t feel clean. Okay, that’s just me, I’m sure. They got wash cloths and instructions to wipe off the dirt at least, after playing outside.

One of the girls just scooted by on Briggs’ ride-on Thomas the Train toy. I suggested I could grab one of the Thomas DVDs if they wanted to watch it. No laughing.

They’re getting settled down now. The plan is to start movies in their rooms soon, and hope everyone stays quiet and gets tired. Fingers crossed.

POM Wonderful (Product Review).

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 02:07:00 +0000

The makers of POM Wonderful found Dog Makes Five and sent me some samples of their pomegranate juice. Tonight we tried it out, sharing a couple of 8oz bottles among six of us.

My nine-year-old daughter went first. “Strong, and a tiny bit sour, but I love it,” she said, followed by, “I want a lot more.”

My seven-year-old son said, with a grin, “That’s SOOOOO good! It’s so sour it makes you smile!”

His four-year-old brother emulated his response, “Ahh… That’s so good.”

Not to be outdone, the two-year-old added, “Ahhhhhhhh, sooo good. I want more please, daddy!”

Marian’s comment was, “It’s good. Kind of has an after taste, but good,” and, “It’s kind of a cute bottle!”

Truth be told, this was not my first taste of POM Wonderful. They make pomegranate teas too. I find the 100% Pomegranate juice tasty, but indeed rather tart. A sip or two doesn’t give a real feel for it. If you open a bottle for yourself, long before you finish it, you’ll find your lips pursed and your mouth puckered at the tartness. This is a drink best sipped like red wine, not slurped or guzzled like water or grape juice. Keep that in mind, and you’ll be fine. Dilute it with ice, and you might find it rather refreshing.

POM Wonderful touts the health benefits of their beverage product. They have funded scientific research on pomegranates. POM Wonderful claims to affect positive impact on cardiovascular functioning, prostate health and erectile function. Further, studies show POM to be a superior source of antioxidants. www.pomwonderful.com

My recommendation is to try it and see what you think. With potential health benefits like these, why not give it a taste?

Bad Guys Like Being Dirty.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 01:32:00 +0000

It’s bath time at my house. Always busy. Often loud. Sometimes challenging.

The nine-year-old is the most challenging. In most situations, and in everything to do with the after dinner routine, especially bath time. She has her own bathroom. Well, it’s the hallway bathroom, but she has her own door to it from her room as well. It’s her place, where she is supposed to shower. Frosted glass door. She hates her shower, because she can’t see out. It’s often a struggle to get her in there. Sometimes she sings to calm herself. It’s a good trick, when she’ll agree to it. “Sing me Jingle Bells, Happy Birthday and John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt,” I’ll say in an effort to gain shower compliance. Sometimes it works. Other times, she argues for options often, like someone to help her or stand near the bathroom while she goes in, or to get a bath in one of the tubs. Her bathroom has no tub.

The seven-year-old is the most compliant. That holds true for most situations, but certainly at bath time. Tell him to get his shower done, and with no reminder needed, he gets it done, by himself. The next time you see him, he’s in his pajamas.

The four-year-old dawdles. He doesn’t mind a bath. But, he would much rather play. Getting him to go in takes some doing.

The two-year-old is in his own world. He might come along for a bath the first time he’s asked. Or, he might ignore the request and hide in another room. Sometimes he screams. Sometimes he laughs. Depends on his mood.

Tonight, Marian agreed to their favorite bath time routine... Everyone gets a tub. We call it a tub. Do you want a tub? It’s time for your tub. They line up and wait their turns. Sometimes more than one goes in at a time. Sometimes they all climb in at once. That’s crazy. I can’t be anywhere near it. Somebody get a mop.

I heard Marian call for the little boys to come to their bathroom where the communal tub is. I shouted out to the seven-year-old, “Willing, get your shower done!” That’s one I can handle from the computer. “Willing’s already done,” she replied from back there. Ella disappeared quickly. She knows that if I see her at bath time, she’s got no choice but to get it done in her own shower. She hates me at bath time, and home work time and any time there’s a task to be done. Turner sauntered back there, and I heard him say, “Bad guys don’t take tubs. Bad guys like to be dirty!” Briggs just trotted past me. Wet, nude, giggling. I told him to get his nudie butt back to his room. He laughed and ran off.

Bath time is over in the time I wrote this post! Mom rocks.

“HOME WORK TIME!”

The Little Waitress.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 02:07:00 +0000

Tonight, we tried out our new Crock Pot®. Marian made a great pot roast with carrots, potatoes and onions.

The old slow cooker was a Cuisinart® model. High-end make. Hefty price tag. I think I paid roughly $100 at Amazon.com for it. We went through two of them. The first one stopped working in the midst of cooking a dinner. We got a replacement under warranty, and it didn’t work well either. It would heat up, but not high enough to actually cook in a timely manner. We stopped using it, lest we get sick from some food-borne illness.

Before Christmas, at Costco, I saw a Crock Pot® model for a good price, less than half what I had paid for the Cuisinart®. It was in our garage until today, when Marian pulled it out to give it a go. All things in order, so it seems, the dinner cooked well. Everyone liked it.

At the end of the meal, when the kids were getting up, Marian and I were talking. We talked softly about an event coming up, to discuss our plans for it. While the content was not necessarily so intimate, the moment had an appearance of intimacy, apparently. We held hands across the table, admittedly something we don’t often do.

Our nine-year-old daughter snapped into gear. Without a single request, she cleared the table, with a smile. I called her brother in to help with the clearing. As soon as he got the cups and napkins away, she scooted him out. She dimmed the lights. She started rinsing dishes. HUGE smile on her face. Apparently, she saw a romantic moment in the making and turned on the facilitator charm like I’ve never seen her do. She asked for directions in how to use the garbage disposal. She brought us each a bowl with a small scoop of ice cream and chocolate syrup. Then, she came back with one spoon, and said it was the only one left, laughing as she put away the step stool and slinked out of the room. For the record, we have more than 40 spoons, if you count both sizes. For another 15 minutes or so, we had the kitchen to ourselves, while Ella kept the boys occupied. She snuck back in at one point to bring us a picture she drew for us, with a heart and birds kissing on it. Where does she come up with this stuff?

We had a remarkably unusual break of peace and quiet after dinner. It was definitely a moment. Of course, Ella got praises galore from both Marian and me. A simple act of service with amazing grace. My daughter is the deserving winner of today’s blog mention.

Rockin’ ‘Nough For Us.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 06:01:00 +0000

Marian received a couple of invitations for us to join friends for New Year’s Eve celebrations. In standing tradition, we stayed home. Admittedly, I’ve never been much for going out on NYE. Okay, true, introverts prefer to stay home most of the time. But, generally speaking, a few minutes of Dick Clark’s annual ball-drop celebration is quite enough for me to call it a new year.

In 2006, we had our grandest New Year’s Eve of all time, though it was spent in our quiet hotel room. We took our three kids to New York, with Marian’s parents. Before Briggs, it was our last family vacation. Who the heck can travel with four kids? Anyway, we had some points for hotel nights and booked a room at the Times Square Marriott. We had a nice trip, seeing the sites and several shows. It was not until New Year’s Eve that we realized we could actually see the ball from our hotel room window. Our hotel was not exactly on Times Square, but close enough. We didn’t have a view of the crowd gathered for the party, but we could see swarms of people coming and going. We woke the kids in time for the count down, cracked open the window to feel the night air and gathered around the left side of the room, to peer up the street to watch the ball drop at the end of the block. The ball didn’t photograph well, but the fireworks at the end were visible. Family fun that we won’t forget.

This year, Ella determined that she and Willing were staying up until midnight. Turner and Briggs thought they were too. But, when bedtime rolled around, they didn’t put up much of a fight.

We flipped on ABC and watched Dick Clark’s New Year's Rockin’ Eve with Ryan Seacrest 2010. Dick’s post-stroke airtime moments are hard to watch. I understand giving him the honor of appearing. But, wow.

The only performance I watched was J Lo, as she danced around in her silver, shimmery cat suit with a furry feather jacket on. The jacket came off for the second number. I had to laugh, because Ella had put on some old pajamas with snowflakes on them, about two sizes too small, but she can still squeeze into them. She had her own wintery skin-tight suit on, though the effect was quite different, of course.

At midnight, New York time, I popped open a bottle of Asti Spumante, which I picked up from Tom Thumb in accordance with Marian’s grocery list yesterday. I grabbed some Tiffany champagne flutes from our wedding registry, which I am not sure had ever been used. To give them a sense of the holiday spirit, I poured about one sip each into a couple of glasses for Ella and Willing. The smell alone was enough to turn them off. Ella likened it to apple cider vinegar. She barely let the bubbly touch her lips, took in about three drops’ worth, and dribbled onto her shirt as she winced her face. Willing wouldn’t try it. Into the sink went the kids’ glasses.

We’re keepin’ it sweet and innocent in Fort Worth, thank you very much. Happy New Year!

Losing Isaiah.

jdemott7@gmail.com (jdemott) — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 00:26:00 +0000

This afternoon, we took our four kids, along with a friend for each of our older two, to the newly renovated Fort Worth Museum of Science and History. Marian had been since the reopen, I had not. We have a family pass again this year, and decided to try it out, as a family.

Turner goes to museum school there currently, and they’re about to move classes into the new facility, from the temporary units in the south parking lot. It seems like a cool place to take preschool classes, if you ask me.

The place seems larger and fancier, from the exterior. And, I suppose it’s bigger and brighter on the inside. But, for the $80 million renovation, I thought it might be even more impressive. I’m sure that the updates were needed, to replace worn aspects of the old structure. I bet the new museum school classes are much improved, though I have not seen them. There were several rooms to venture in and out of with hands-on activities in each. The separation of spaces seemed to make monitoring the children somewhat easier. Before, some of the exhibits were in long, meandering hallways, which wouldn’t have worked as well today for us, with six little ones to keep eyes on, as they spread out. So, I give them a star for that change. Overall, everything looks sharp and clean and open and new.

We did not make it to the new Noble Planetarium, CSI: The Experience or the Energy Blast area. We did not play outside in the water features; it was too cold for us, though some kids were doing it, until they shut them down when the rain started. Dino Dig is still an option, though it was not open today. We walked through the Cattle Raiser’s Museum wing. The stuffed bovine were interesting enough, but it was not a personal favorite. The kids enjoyed the interactive cattle corral game. Our group of children seemed to have the most fun making aircraft from paper and putting them in the wind tunnels to fly. The grocery store section is still a favorite as well, apparently. I noticed that they installed the check out counters backwards, which seemed strange, though I doubt the kids notice. One of the more interesting spots was the light and shadow room, with some simple but fun features to try. The Omni Theater remains, though I never noticed the entrance to that.

Walking through and enjoying the exhibits, we were challenged to keep our eyes on all six children at times, though Marian and I were diligent. When they went in different directions, even within the same room, we had to stay on top of it. So many people crowded in, made it a challenge to see who went where. It crossed my mind how awful it would be to lose a child in a place like that.

Near the end of our visit, a man came bounding through the Fort Worth Children’s Museum area where we were. “ISAIAH!!! ISAIAH!!! ISAIAH!!!,” he shouted. He barged past visitors, stormed into a bathroom and out again. “I S A I A H ! ! ! “ he bellowed, “Six-year-old kid, red jacket, dark hair!” “ISAIAH!!!” he repeated, as he marched out of the room and back down the hallway. In seconds, a woman scurried in, with a young girl in tow. The girl was hysterical, crying, “Where is he? Where is Isaiah?!” They whirled through, following the same path the dad had just made, and back out again.

As the frustrated family searched for their lost boy, I noticed a few other parents stop for a moment, as they confirmed the location of their own offspring. I did the same. Once the shouting was done, the room returned to its previous state of chaos. We left soon thereafter. I never learned the outcome of the search for Isaiah, though I am sure they found him.