Flack

Somehow, we survived another Christmas. As my dad reminded me, Christmas anxiety (especially in children) manifests itself in many forms. The kids, God bless 'em, have been fighting non-stop for almost two weeks now. Both kids are equally guilty. Half the time, Mason starts it by taking a toy away from Morgan or simply teasing her. Morgan lacks Mason's finesse; when she starts it, it's usually with a hard slap on bare skin or a bite. Sometimes they both start it by arguing over ridiculous things like who's going to sit where or who gets the first glass of milk. Regardless of who starts it, it generally ends with the two of them running and screaming through the house as fast and as loud as possible. Morgan usually gets the worst of this deal -- being younger she's also less coordinated, which means these high speed chases typically end in her falling down or running into something. Occasionally though she bests Mason with a clawing scratch or a well-thrown toy that brings the boy down. For two weeks, we've been spanking, grounding, and putting children in time out on a regular basis. Sometimes it's hard to remember just how exciting Christmas is for the little ones. Saturday morning, we finally told Mason, "look -- Santa can see you and he's not happy. Knock it off." A few minutes later, Susan and the kids left the house and stopped by a convenient store. Coincidently, while inside the store, Susan ran into a guy in a pretty convincing Santa outfit. After a bit of talking, Susan convinced the guy to come outside and have a one-to-one talk with Mason. With his finger pointed, Santa told Mason that he knew what he'd been doing with Morgan, and that he had better straighten up before Christmas. Susan told me later Mason's eyes were as big as saucers! Things settled down a bit around the house after that. Christmas Eve rolled around and this year we decided to try something different by splitting up our party and doing half at our house and then half at Susan's sister's house which is just around the corner. Our half of the party consisted of a lot of snack foods and desserts, most of which were mushy (which met my dietary needs; I'm still on a soft food diet for one more week due to my recent surgery). When everyone migrated to the second half of the party I stayed back at the house, assisting Santa in some late night bicycle assembly ... Early Christmas morning I crept out into the living, searching for signs of disturbed toy piles. Nothing; I was the first one up. I got the video camera ready and snapped the battery into place. That minute sound jolted both kids out of bed. "Santa" had left bicycle helmets outside of each kids door, which both of them stepped over and completely ignored. (In their defense, our house is like a toy minefield; stepping over toys has become second nature to all of us.) When they got to the living room I said, "go back and look at your doors, I think Santa left something there!" This made Mason excited and Morgan cry. After a bit of prodding they found the helmets, the bikes, and everything else that Santa had left behind. After ripping through mounds of presents and wrapping paper, Dad showed up a little after 7am and the kids and I exchanged gifts with him. Our yearly tradition of dad cooking waffles has been ruined by Susan's and my lapband surgeries, but we adapted and had eggs and bacon instead (the kids had pancakes as well). Around an hour later, Linda, Doug and Griffin stopped by, ate breakfast, and exchanged gifts as well. Despite the cool 40 degree weather and howling winter wind, the kids strapped on bicycle helmets and hit the road on their bikes. After naptime, we loaded up the car and went over to mom's for more gift exchanging and visiting. We had a good dinner and a good visit. On the way home, we drove through the Yukon Christmas lights display one last time. For the first time in two weeks, the kids were calm. There's a small train ride that, for two bucks, will take you up close and personal to all the Christmas displays. Although it was freezing cold (and I was wearing shorts), we rode the train. The kids had a great time looking at the lights. All was calm, all was bright. Click here to view all our Christmas 2007 pictures. of our Christmas morning festivities. Merry Christmas, everybody!

I made it back to Oklahoma just before the snow arrived. Friday night, the roads were clear; by Saturday afternoon, ice and snow had covered the ground. While driving 875 miles straight through is never particularly enjoyable, the desire to see one's kids combined with the fear of getting stuck in a blizzard are powerful motivators. Today, the children wanted to play in the "snow" -- or what there was left of it. And as usual, once the two of them got outside, the never-ending fighting between them continued. Desperate for something to keep them busy and out of each other's hair, I invented the first annual O'Hara Winter Games. The events and results were as follows: Event One: Run to the neighbor's driveway and back. The catch? Mason had to run backwards, while Morgan got to run forwards. One your mark, get set, go! Although Morgan took an early lead, apparently running backwards looked like more fun and so when she also turned around backwards Mason blew past her. Mason 1, Morgan 0. Event Two: Five laps around the tree. Each kid was to run around the tree in our front yard five times. Mason was doing three laps to Morgan's one; however, mid-race, I announced that if you were wearing a pink hat (like Morgan) that each lap counted as three. Upon Morgan's second lap she decided eating snow was more important than finishing the race. I actually got seven laps out of Mason, telling him one didn't count because he "cut" and another didn't count because he didn't hit my hand. Mason 2, Morgan 0. Event Three: Snow Angels. On the word "go," each kid was to run to the neighbor's yard, make a snow angel, and run back. Both kids performed the task so each were awarded a point. Mason 3, Morgan 1. Event Four: Sledding. How far can you go down the icy driveway? Each kid was lined up and slung down the driveway while riding our old plastic sled. The much lighter Morgan slid further than Mason (also partially due to a harder push). Mason 3, Morgan 2. Event Five: Candyland Hopscotch. With our Candyland yard decorations pretty much ruined from the rain, we turned the colored-patchway into a color-coded round of hopscotch. This game had no real point. I randomly called out colors and the kids ran to those colors, like a simplistic version of twister. Without any rules defined I eventually declared Morgan the winner. Surprisingly, they were both okay with that. Mason 3, Morgan 2. After five events Mason was officially declared the winner. That suited both kids just fine, as I'm not sure Morgan even knew we were playing a game. After the games, Morgan celebrated her defeat by eating snow mixed with grass, while Mason dumped handfulls of snow into his own hair. Everybody wins in Winter Games!

The arcade at Crossroads Mall (I-35 and I-240 in Oklahoma City) has/had an Aladdin's Castle. It's one of the ones that was purchased by Namco so even though the name has changed, the arcade's still open.

Eischen’s, an Oklahoma bar known for its fried chicken, has a vintage (and unmolested) Pac-Man sitting in the corner. You're right, they stand out like a sore thumb when you run across one.

Our neighborhood is having a "holiday yard decorating" contest this year. When we asked Mason what he wanted to do, he said he wanted a Candyland theme. It was Susan's idea to make everything out of cardboard and paper. Other than paint, we didn't spend a dime. Susan drove the reigns; Mason and Morgan did tons of painting, and I assisted as needed. Today is judgement day. I'm stuck in Atlanta and couldn't help in the final assembly, but Susan sent me a couple of photos she took after getting everything put up. Good luck, kids!

The biggest problem with workout gyms is that they are social gathering places filled with people with whom I do not wish to socially gather. I have no interest in talking with complete strangers about their biceps, triceps, deltoids or hemmoroids. As I huff and puff while trotting along on my treadmill at a slower pace than everyone else, I don't much feel like chatting. Someone should open a gym for geeks. Each treadmill should contain a LCD screen with cable television, a gaming system, and headphones attached. Each one should be private or at least semi-private -- perhaps each one could be in a cubicle, complete with a private changing area and scale.

Today, ABCNews ran an article covering the top 50 albums of the year. Conveniently, I've sorted them into the following categories. Artists I've never heard of: 1. PETER BJORN & JOHN — "Writer's Block" 2. SPOON — "Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga" 4. M.I.A. — "Kala" 5. SHOUT OUT LOUDS — "Our Ill Wills" 6. THE GO! TEAM — "Proof of Youth" 7. LAURA VEIRS — "Saltbreakers" 9. ELENI MANDELL — "Miracle of Five" 10. YEAH YEAH YEAHS — "Is Is" (EP) 12. MARK RONSON — "Version" 14. COMMON — "Finding Forever" 15. K.T. TUNSTALL — "Drastic Fantastic" 16. MAXIMO PARK — "Our Earthly Pleasures" 17. RILO KILEY — "Under The Blacklight" 18. ALBERT HAMMOND JR. — "Yours to Keep" 20. A BAND OF BEES — "Octopus" 21. FOUNTAINS OF WAYNE — "Traffic and Weather" 23. IDLEWILD — "Make Another World" 26. SLOAN -- "Never Hear The End Of It" 27. THE PERISHERS — "Victorious" 28. FEIST — "The Reminder" 30. CARINA ROUND — "Slow Motion Addict" 31. UNDERWORLD — "Oblivion With Bells" 32. BLOC PARTY — "A Weekend in the City" 34. THE SHINS — "Wincing The Night Away" 35. TEGAN & SARA — "The Con" 36. KATE HAVNEVIK — "Melankton" 38. KEREN ANN — "Keren Ann" 39. NEW PORNOGRAPHERS — "Challengers" 43. AIR — "Pocket Symphony" 45. BLACK REBEL MOTORCYCLE CLUB — "Baby 81" 46. KRISTIN HERSH — "Learn To Sing Like A Star" 47. CHARLOTTE GAINSBOURG — "5:55" 48. PREFUSE 73 — "Preparations" Artists I've heard of, but never intentionally listened to: 3. RADIOHEAD — "In Rainbows" 8. LILY ALLEN ? "Alright Still" 11. P.J. HARVEY — "White Chalk" 19. AMY WINEHOUSE — "Back to Black" 22. ELLIOTT SMITH — "New Moon" 24. WILCO — "Sky Blue Sky" 25. THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS — "The Else" / "Cast Your Pod to the Wind" 29. THE HIVES — "The Black & White Album" 33. ALICIA KEYS — "As I Am" 42. SUZANNE VEGA — "Beauty & Crime" 49. ROBERT PLANT & ALLISON KRAUSS — "Raising Sand" 50. KANYE WEST — "Graduation" Artists whom I could name at least one of their songs: 40. CROWDED HOUSE — "Time On Earth" 41. GORILLAZ — "D-Sides" Albums on the list I've listened to at least once: 13. NINE INCH NAILS — "Year Zero" 37. BEASTIE BOYS — "The Mix Up" 44. THE WHITE STRIPES — "Icky Thump" Gimmie an O. Gimmie an L. Gimmie a D. What's that spell? Me.

So I'm cruising through Tennessee and I say to myself, "Self, I would really like some Chinese food." So I punch a few buttons on the GPS to search for restaurants. I limit the search to Chinese only and the GPS says, "well, I have bad news for you. The closest Chinese restaurant is 44 miles away, in Memphis." And I respond with, "you know what, that's okay. Take me there." So the GPS adds the address en route, and 44 miles later, I veer off the Interstate and stop at "Goodies Submarine Sandwiches and Chinese Food," less than half a mile from Graceland. I pick up some Egg Drop Soup and drink it on the road. I will never, ever tire of playing with my GPS. And, I will never, ever take another road trip without one. Period.

Today's adventure sends me east on I-40, destination Atlanta. At 860 miles, it's a drive I'd normally make in one day -- however, as I'm still healing a bit, and there's a pretty good chance I'll be running into snow and ice along the way, I've decided to split the drive across two days. My initial plan was to head east on I-40 to Memphis, and then go from Memphis to Atlanta. In case weather gets bad, my alternate plan was to head south to Dallas, and then go east to Atlanta on I-20 -- a route that adds almost 200 miles and over 3 hours to my overall time. The current plan is to try I-40 and, in case things get bad, head south to I-20 and continue east from there. Packing for this trip has been split into equal thirds. One third of the luggage is clothes. Because I'm still on a special post-op diet, one third is food -- mostly powdered protein drinks, vitamins, and stuff like that. The final third is electronics -- laptop, cell phone, portable dvd player, Gameboy, GPS, MP3 cds, DVDs, and at least half a dozen chargers, if not more. In fact now that I think about it, it might be more of a 25/25/50 split. Launch time, 10am.

Earlier this week Susan and I received a Christmas card from an old co-worker, out in Spokane. Reading the card reminded me of my first week in Spokane, back in the summer of 1996. The night before I left for Spokane, Washington to start my new job with the FAA, I packed my Dodge Neon with the bare essentials I would need to survive – a small color television, my computer (a 486/100 in the tallest PC case I've ever owned), a monitor, all my computer disks and CDs, a CD boom box, every audio CD I owned (400 or so) and a small suitcase with a week's worth of clothes. Susan stayed behind in Oklahoma, tying up loose ends (like selling our house), with the intention of bringing the rest of our belongings to Washington with her in a huge U-Haul truck a few weeks later. I made the 1,800 mile drive in three days, sleeping and napping in my car at rest stops and parking lots along the way. I left on a Monday and arrived in Spokane Wednesday afternoon. I slept in my car that night too, and by Thursday I smelled pretty rank. That morning I found the apartment that we would eventually live in for the next 18 months, but it wasn't available for ten days. Needing a place to stay for the next two weeks, I began crossing Spokane systematically until I found a cute little lot renting apartments for $99 a week. From the road, I could see the stand-alone dollhouse apartments. During the winter, they served as small ski rental units for tourists. During the summer for the most part, they sat vacant. After talking with the manager, I learned that those small, stand-alone units were actually $199 a week. The $99 units, which I was promised were also nice and clean, were further in the back. I paid for the first week, and drove back to see my new temporary residence. "32B, the one just after the bus," the owner informed me. Behind the first few rows of cute, small apartments I found a dumpy trailer park. I had no problem spotting the bus – it was still painted yellow, with a giant tie-died Jimi Hendrix tapestry hanging over the windshield, acting as a curtain. Right past the bus was a mobile home with a line drawn vertically down the middle. The front door of the trailer read 32A. The rear door was 32B. I parked the Neon next to the back door and began unpacking my belongings, carrying them into my half of the mobile home (which consisted of the master bedroom and master bathroom). To its credit, the room did have Cable TV and a telephone. Just minutes after moving everything from the car to the room, there was a knock at the door; it was Tammy, the girl who lived in the bus. After introducing herself, Tammy wanted to know if she could borrow my phone. For some reason, I said yes. For the next hour or so, this strange girl sat in the recliner of my bedroom, yapping on the phone. I had made the assumption Tammy had to make an emergency call or something, but no, she had just wanted to chat with her friends. After an hour, I interrupted her and told her I was getting ready to go get some lunch. She asked me if I would pick up some McDonald's for her if she gave me a couple of bucks. Again, I agreed. Keep in mind that I now had my computer, thousands of dollars of CDs, and everything I owned in Spokane in my room. I got a very uncomfortable feeling about my new neighbor and so, before going to McDonald's, I loaded everything from the room BACK into my Neon. This is a routine I would repeat every time I left my room throughout the next week. Even if I were simply running to the convenient store to pick up a drink, I would pack up all my belongings (a fifteen or twenty minute process) into the car; upon returning, I'd unpack everything once again. Tammy came over a few more times to use the phone. Whenever she would knock I would pick up the phone and pretend like I was on it before answering the door to dissuade her. Occasionally she'd offer to wait until I was off; eventually, the got the point. At some point during the week she told me a long tale about how she had received some chunk of change when some relative of hers had died. With that, she bought the bus and set out to see the world. Unfortunately, the bus broke down in Spokane, leaving her there. I tried to look interested as the words poured out of her mouth. After staying in half a mobile home for a week, I was done with that place. I packed everything back into the Neon one last time and spent three more days sleeping in my car before moving into our new apartment.

For this year's Christmas cards we had two pictures to choose from. In the first one, everybody's waving, but I'm not smiling. In the second one nobody's waving, Morgan's crying, but I'm smiling. The obvious answer? Cut my face out of photo two and stick it in photo number one. And what about the neighbor's beige truck over there in the corner of the shot? Let's just paint it out! Gone! Seasons Greetings from the O'Haras and Photoshop.

Just last week while our neighbors to the north were getting their first taste of winter weather, it was still 70 degrees here in Oklahoma. How nice of them to finally share the ice. Here's the fam and I posing in front of dad's big tree ... or what's left of it. These ice storms are terrible on the trees; the weight of the ice breaks the limbs, sending them crashing into the ground (or occasionally, people's roofs). Dad was lucky (or smart) and paid a tree trimmer just last week to cut the big limbs that were overhanging his house. Had he not done that, several of these giant branches would have been lying across Rudolph's landing strip. Local schools have been closed for two days now. Getting to work was an adventure in icy driving combined with fallen-tree dodging. As much as I want to sell my truck, it's days like this that I really enjoy driving it.

Mason's Birthday Party -- Jump Zone! Words cannot describe just how much fun Mason had today at his birthday party. I mean, just look at the joy on this kid's face. Priceless! I'll explain, shortly. Jump Zone is an interesting little business. You know those inflatable moon bounces? Jump Zone is, essentially, a giant carpeted warehouse with seven or eight industrial strength moon bounces inside. Each moon bounce has a different theme: one looked like a sinking ship with a giant octopus on top, one had a Batman theme, one was even a giant bouncy basketball court. Mason and about a dozen of his friends wore their little fannies out, running and bouncing and sliding. And then, Mason lost a tooth. No one saw the actual incident, but apparently he jumped into something face first and knocked his tooth out. It was a loose baby tooth -- no dentist trip needed -- but once Mason saw the blood he lost it. Mason's like that. Earlier this week Mason cut his shin on something and by the way he was screaming I honestly thought he'd broken his leg. So of course, the tooth incident combined with blood loss threatened to end the entire party. Mason screamed and cried and put on a production so loud that parents we didn't even know came to check on him. After a solid ten minutes, I was able to convince Mason it was no longer bleeding. At that point he wiped his tears, put on a smile, and went back to bounce land Injuries aside, everyone had a wonderful time. The kids couldn't run from one bouncy to the next fast enough. After just over an hour's worth of jumping, the kids were wrangled up and herded into one of Jump Zone's party rooms. None of the kids seemed particularly impressed by the Xbox cake, but the eighteen year old employee thought it was pretty cool. Mason spent the party sitting in a giant inflatable birthday throne, where his royal assistants (both of his grannies) tended to his every whim. A birthday package for fifteen kids at Jump Zone is right at two-hundred bucks, which is just about the going rate for a birthday party of that size. True, we could have had it at the house, but I suspect there would have been the same amount of jumping, whether it was on Jump Zone's equipment or my own furniture. We were so glad everyone was able to make it out! For all the pictures from Mason's Jump Zone party, CLICK HERE.

Thanks bro, I appreciate it! I don't know that I have a career in cakes ahead of me, but it was pretty fun to make.

Well, the cake turned out, uh, differently than I had imagined. Some things went well. I think the side "heat sinks" came out pretty good. I used a Christmas cookie covered in green icing for the center "Xbox Jewel". Tootsie Rolls became joystick ports, and SweetTarts became buttons. I didn't worry about the colors -- I wanted them to look like candy. What went wrong. Well, for starters, I wasn't able to find black shoestring licorice, which is what I had planned on using for much of the design. I ended up carving directly into the icing which, while it worked, wasn't what I had planned. The other thing that went wrong was the white icing I bought. I had planned to write "XBOX" in white across the cookie and across the front to make it more authentic looking, but the white icing came out so sloppy that I had to scrap it. Susan saved the day by picking up some candy letters which I used. Had to buy two packs, of course (two "X"s). The combination of the black icing and the camera flash makes the cake's surface look a little funky, but for a quick job, it turned out okay. Most importantly, Mason thought it was "awesome," and that's good enough for me.

For Mason's birthday party this Saturday he has requested an Xbox cake. I have volunteered to create the cake. Did I mention I've never really decorated a cake before? For the uninitiated, this is what a real Xbox looks like: One thing I've always been really good at is charactures. The secret involves looking at a person or item picking out unique parts and then emphasizing them (my team always won in Pictionary and Win, Lose or Draw). When looking at that Xbox, I think the key features are: black, green circle on top, roughly rectangular. After searching Google, I've discovered two things. #1, Xbox cakes aren't all that rare, and #2, there are some really good looking ones out there. Most of these seem to use fondant -- that thick stuff they use on some wedding cakes (and all those cake competition shows). What I didn't know before I started researching this cake is, most people don't eat fondant. They pick it off before eating the cake. How dumb is that? I don't want to make a cake that you can't eat! A tasty alternative I've run across is a marshmallow-based fondant which apparently also works and is tasty as well. Unfortunately, I'm not sure learning a new cake technique the day before the cake is due is the best idea. This time around I'm going to stick with the basics. Here are a few Xbox cakes I found via Google. Looks like I am up against some stuff competition. I'll post pictures of mine tomorrow, regardless of how it turns out.

So far, the road to recovery has been relatively smooth and speedy. I had surgery on Monday. Wednesday morning, I rode with dad to Toys R' Us to do a little Christmas shopping. Later in the afternoon, I stopped by work to make a quick appearance. Tuesday I had two doses of Loritab to ease the pain of the stitches a bit. Wednesday, I had two doses as a form of insurance (taking some before going out "just in case" things started hurting. Today, I haven't had any. I spent most of today laying around the house, watching movies on television and playing on the computer. This afternoon I resumed my old role of picking Mason up from school. After that we stopped by the post office to check the PO box, and pick up a package. The only pain I'm having at the moment is a stabbing pain in my left shoulder, typically associated with laproscopic surgery. Supposedly this will go away after a day or two. Can't wait. According to the scale, I'm down 25 pounds this morning, all attributable to the liquid diet I've been on (and will remain on for a few more weeks). The lapband isn't "doing" anything yet and won't be until my first fill, six weeks from now. Again, can't wait.

I made it! My lapband surgery was a success, and I'm alive and doing well. Thanks to everyone who offered me even the slightest amount of support during this time. The phone calls, e-mails and blog comments were all very kind. Thank you all very much. My adventure began Monday morning with a 7:15am check-in at the hospital. I had blood work (poorly) drawn by a girl barely old enough to drive. From there it was off to the surgery check-in room, where I was soon met by Susan, and shortly after, my mother. After changing out of my street clothes and into my hospital gown, I was told my surgery would take place at 8:45am. I had an IV hooked up. Somewhere around this time my dad showed up as well. My parents and Susan chatted about different topics while I generally stared off into space. It was hard to think about anything specific, but I was sure glad to be surrounded by familiar faces and voices. Some of the others waiting in the surgery area were alone, which seemed really sad to me. As 8:45am rolled around, a nurse walked by to inform us that the doctor was running at least 90 minutes behind, which eventually turned into 120 minutes. The hospital bed I was lying on was not met for long-term occupancy, and before long my tailbone was aching something fierce. Upon entering the hospital I was given a wrist tag with my name, surgery information and a bar code printed on it. When they finally came to get me for surgery, they checked the tag and found it was wrong. Boy did that cause me to momentarily panic. The last thing I wanted to do was wake up missing a leg – or, worse yet, as MRS O'Hara! The tag confusion was quickly rectified, and shortly thereafter I was en route to the pre-op waiting room. There, I met the anesthesiologist. We went over what I would see and feel and experience. The nurse was also nice. From there, I parted ways with the family and began the ride back to the operating room. Once there, I slid from the bed I'd been riding on to the operating table. As the anesthesiologist approached I asked him how long it took for the anesthesia to kick in. He said, “Watch this.” When I cracked open my eye a split second later I was in the recovery room with a nurse sitting next to me. “You're surgery's over, everything went fine,” she said. “Jesus, is that you?” I asked. “No, I'm a nurse,” she replied. “Well, that's good news,” I said, and closed my eyes again. The entire procedure took around 30 minutes, with another 30 or so in recovery. From there I was whisked into one of the hospital's private rooms. It wasn't as nice as Susan's room was when she had her surgery, but it was adequate. They must've really pumped me full of anesthesia, as I nodded off and on between noon and 4pm or so. During a lot of that time I was awake but with my eyes closed. I could hear the conversations around me but it took too much effort to respond to them. Instead I listened, and rested. Around 4:30 or so one of the nurses came around and said that the more I moved around the better off I would be, so I made my way out of the hospital bed and into one of the chairs within the room. From there I made a few phone calls, watched America's Funniest Home Videos on the television, and just rested in general. My mom stuck around for a bit while Susan went to go pick up the kids from school. Nothing too exciting there. Susan did bring the kids by to see me for a few minutes. I was a bit nervous about them bumping into my stitches or something but they were extremely calm the entire visit. Around the time they arrived my mom went home. Sue and the kids only stayed for about ten minutes and then they too left. About an hour later, dinner was served, consisting of chicken broth, diluted apple juice, decaf tea, decaf coffee, and diet Jell-O; 30 milliliters every 30 minutes. I couldn't come close to finishing it. One of the male nurses came by and mentioned the Monday Night Football game. I flipped the game on and ended up watching the first half while sitting in the chair and the second half while lying in bed. I think the game ended shortly before ten o'clock, which seemed like a good time for bed. Susan came back up to the hospital around 10pm to stay the night. It was really comforting to have her there. She helped with lots of little things like IV tubes getting tangled and helping me get water. It is nice to have someone by your side during times like that. Tuesday morning went just as quickly. Shortly after the new day's nurses came by to introduce themselves, my surgeon's assistant came by to release me around 8:30am. Breakfast was served – another tray just like the first, with yellow Jell-O taking the place of red. I ate what I could. Through the magic of Loritab, I was feeling well enough this morning to take a shower on my own. There is very little pain, per se; a bit of an upset and bruised stomach, and six tiny incisions, all with two or three staples each (they're all covered in tape still, so I don't know exact sizes yet). By 10am Susan and my dad had arrived. I made the honorary ride outside in a sleek wheelchair. Dad drove my truck home and I rode in Susan's van. For the next two weeks I'm on a liquids-only diet. That's followed by two weeks of soft foods, before returning to normal grub (smaller portions, of course). I took the entire week off so I'll be relaxing around the house, most likely with either a joystick or a keyboard in my hand. I'm looking forward to a new tomorrow.

Yesterday was my pal Andy's 35th birthday, and Andy's wife Lea set up a surprise party for him at Laser Expedition. Along with Andy's family and his co-workers from the fire department, a few of the old gang showed up including our friends Jeff and Scott. It's always fun when old friends get together, whether we're playing cards, playing laser tag, celebrating birthdays or simply hanging out. Jeff and I had a slight advantage during the first game, having played previously. Out of 18 players, I ranked third and Jeff came in either first or second. During the second 10-minute game, fatigue began to set in and I found myself doing more "sniping" (hiding and shooting) than running-and-gunning. After a short break, we started back up with games three and four. During game three, nothing went right for me. The firemen's physical conditioning was more benefitial than previous gaming knowledge by this point, and people were running circles around me, shooting me from every which direction. The fourth game went worse than the third. Mason and Jeff's son Talon were designated "mummies" -- meaning, they could shoot, but not be shot. So now not only did I have firemen dowsing me with lasers, but I was being followed by a kid saying, "hi Daddy!" and shooting me in the back the entire game. I know that the whole thing was just for fun, but the competitive side of me was disappointed that I didn't do bette as the day went on. After the games we retreated back to one of the party rooms, where I had one of those awkward moments I've been dreading. As cake and punch were being handed out, I was handed pieces of cake three times, each of which I simply passed to other people. When people noticed I didn't have cake in front of me, they asked, "cake?" "No thanks," I said, maybe three or four times. I'm not blaming anyone else about the weirdness -- obviously it is a natural response to offer someone cake at a birthday party when you see them sitting there without any. In retrospect, I think it would have been easier to just accept a piece of cake and leave it sitting there in front of me. I'm sure as time goes on I will find better ways to deal with social situations. It was great seeing everybody yesterday. I'm glad there was such a good turnout for Andy's party.

Earlier this week Susan got a giant scratching/climbing post for the cat. It's about seven feet tall, green, tree-shaped, and has (or had) christmas lights wrapped around it, ornaments hanging from the limbs, and an angel on top. It kind of sounds like a Christmas tree, but try explaining that to the cat. The past two days, I've come home to find the tree in shambles, surrounded by broken ornaments. The angel is now leaning at a 45 degree angle; the tree itself is slightly more upright, but not by much. Tuesday evening the cat managed to disconnect the bottom section of lights; this morning I noticed the bottom half is working, but now the top half is off. Last night, the whole family gathered around the television to watch two Christmas specials. The first was Shrek the Halls, a new 30-minute Shrek special where Shrek discovers "the true meaning of Christmas." This was followed by Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Mason has led an essentially commercial-free life to date. The majority of what he watches is on VHS, DVD, or the PiVo (which removes/skips commercials), all of which are commercial free. Watching him squirm and complain because a program is interrupted by commercials is always entertaining to me. "What is this?", he'll say. "Put Shrek back on!" Also, kudos to ABC (sarcasm) for interrupting the Grinch broadcast with local, latebreaking news that a local man suspected of murdering a pregnant woman had been arrested. I realize the world continues to turn even during the holidays, but it sure would be nice to watch a 30-minute Christmas special with my kids without having to explain what murder is. Grinchy, indeed.

This morning at work we discovered our old refrigerator was in dire need of a defrosting. So much ice had built up in the freezer section of the mini-fridge that it wouldn’t hold a single frozen meal. In lieu of the more patient method of unplugging the fridge and letting it defrost on its own, I decided to hammer on the chunk of ice with the first thing available: an old hard drive. The corner of the hard drive was very sharp and managed to break off a significant chunk of ice. Unfortunately all corners of the hard drive were sharp, and it also cut my hand open. In search of a better weapon, we discovered a discarded weighted speaker stand. “Bang, bang,” went the speaker stand. “Hiss, hiss,” went the fridge. Somehow amidst all my banging I managed to sever the Freon line going to the freezer. Crap. My first official duty for work this morning? Running to Wal-Mart with Emily and picking up a new dorm-sized refrigerator.

I haven’t updated in a couple of days so today I’m playing catch up. Thanksgiving was as good as it gets. We descended upon dad’s house this year for our festivities. He didn’t mind, as he got a free house cleaning out of the deal from mom, sis’ and Susan. Dad already sent us the cleaning schedule for 2008 so I suspect we’ll be having Thanksgiving at his place for years to come. Not much to say about the meal itself; everything was great and there was plenty of it. Dad mentioned something about hooking the trailer up to his truck earlier in the week, and so after everybody was finished eating he and I went and connected the flat bed trailer to the back of his pickup. Sitting on that hard wood didn’t sound too comfortable to me, so I brought out a metal folding chair which I sat on. Worked great. Once we had everything hooked up we brought out all the kids (along with plenty of chaperones) and went for a cruise around the neighborhood. Despite 40-degree temperatures and a heady crosswind, everybody enjoyed the ride. Looks like Grandpa just started a new Thanksgiving tradition.

Tuesday morning around 9am I decided to go for a quick walk and get away from my desk for a few minutes. I grabbed my MP3 player and headphones and walked a mile lap around the center. Rounding the final corner on my way back to my building I was almost run down by one of our security trucks, lights-a-flashin’. That truck was followed by a smaller security kart, with two more security peoples inside. As I approached the building’s front door the trio, walking briskly, walked up behind me. I held the door the open and stood aside. “Y’all are in a bigger hurry than I am,” I quipped. Once inside the building, the three of them must’ve thought I was trailing them. As they walked to the end of the hall, so did I. They walked downstairs. I followed them. After making a few turns they began heading toward my room, with me still in tow. As I followed them into my room they and I saw the same thing at the same time; Johnny, my co-worker and buddy, lying on the floor surrounded by paramedics. The next few minutes are kind of a blurry combination of employees asking, “What happened?” and paramedics trying to get information from both Johnny and the rest of us. Even though I arrived late to the party it was obvious Johnny was in a lot of pain, which was hard to watch. Using a pain scale from one to ten, Johnny was reporting nines and tens. Probably due to my recent first aid training, I found myself disassociating from the situation at hand and instead dissecting the actions of the rescue personnel. One of the things we learned in class is to go stand where you can be seen when more rescue personnel are arriving. When I heard the Oklahoma City paramedics were arriving I did just that, moving out into the hallway where I could wave them into the room. Initially Johnny was showing symptoms of having a heart attack, even though he’s already been down that road and has had his heart checked recently and everything looked just fine. After pumping him full of painkillers, Johnny was on his way to Mercy Hospital. Emily rode in the ambulance while Paula, Susan and I followed them in my truck. It is always frustrating watching how slow ambulances drive with someone in the back. I found myself continually riding my truck’s brakes to avoid ramming the rear of the ambulance. After hanging out in the hospital for fifteen minutes or so Johnny’s wife Stephanie arrived, relieving Emily and myself of bedside duties. From there we joined Susan, Paula, and one of Stephanie’s co-workers out in the waiting room. After waiting for an hour, we were informed that they wouldn’t know anything else for two to three hours. We decided that was a good point to break for some lunch and go pick up Johnny’s truck. As I later told Johnny, “When we thought you were dying, we came here. When we found out you weren’t dying, we went to go eat BBQ.” After a couple of hours of tests, they turned ol’ Johnny loose. Their tests point to GI issues, which makes sense as he just had his gall bladder removed a couple of months ago. Johnny and Stephanie left the hospital right around 2pm, and the rest of us headed back to work. I thought a lot about this the following day on Thanksgiving. It’s easy to say that you’re thankful for your health, but to see something like this up close and personal drives the point home. We sure are thankful Johnny’s okay and look forward to seeing him return to work next week.

I am sitting in my truck in Norman Regional Hospital's parking lot. It's Saturday morning, 10:23am. "Living Our Dream," one of the several Oklahoma Weight Loss Options support groups, doesn't meet for another 40 minutes. With the radio off, the only sound inside the cab is the occasional rush of wind blowing through the slightly cracked windows. For the next 40 minutes it's just me, sitting in silence, wondering how on earth things got to this point. Attending this meeting is a prerequisite for having lapband surgery, which I have elected to do. The surgery takes place December 4th. For 10 days prior to the surgery I will be restricted to a liquid diet. I chose the date I did so that the liquid diet would start two days after Thanksgiving. A shrink would have a field day with that decision. I have so many thoughts and feelings about this surgery that I don't even know where to begin, but the one one general feeling that invades all of them is embarassment. I am embarassed to be this overweight. I am embarassed that I have to resort to such drastic measures in order to lose weight. I am embarassed about the way I look. I am embarassed that I cannot control my eating. I am embarassed about what size of clothes I wear. I am embarassed that I have failed so many diets and exercise plans. I am embarassed that I cannot seem to win this battle. Ultimately, I am embarassed that I am having this surgery. I don't like to talk about it and I don't want to talk about it, but assuming I see weight loss similar to Susan (who has lost over 130 pounds now since March), I suspect I'll be forced into talking about it. There won't be any hiding that. On the heels of embarassment is fear. I am not afraid of the surgery itself, at least not the physical aspects ot it. I am afraid of its long-term affects on my life, particularly social ones. Food is such a big part of all of our lives. I fear the awkwardness that is sure to arise the first time I go out to eat with friends or family and I cannot join them. I am afraid of what people will say. I worry that I am making the wrong choice. I worry that I will make meals awkward for others around me. Sometimes it seems like the only way I know how to socialize with friends is over a good meal. I worry about how this will affect that. As I weigh the pros and cons of this decision, I actually begin to come up with a few positive things about being overweight. Ultimately I know I'm kidding myself, but the list is somewhat entertaining (at least to me). The list of the effects of morbid obesity are printed on the list in my hand. Some of the things like "degenerative arthritis" and "heartburn" make me think, "I can live with that." As the list gets more serious -- diabetes, heart disease, shortened life span -- it becomes harder to wave them off. "I wonder if they'll have snacks at the meeting," I think to myself, cracking a nervous smile. They may take my gut, but they will never take my sense of humor.