Dealing with Uncle Z

So, my brother-in-law is driving me crazy. We call him Uncle Z, and he's RB's only brother. Sigh.

A little background. When RB and I started dating again (that's another story for another day), things were fun and carefree between us. RB was living in Dallas and I was living in Austin, so one of us would make the trek, and we would enjoy an immensely fun weekend of lazing by the pool, eating great food, and watching movies. When we'd been dating for about 4 months, I went to Dallas for RB's birthday. The sixth Harry Potter movie was coming out that weekend, so I went up on Thursday, and both took Friday off to celebrate with a long weekend. We went out for sushi, and were ecstatic to go to bed late and know that we could sleep in like slackers playing hooky. Instead, we got a call at 6:30am from an old girlfriend of Uncle Z that he had shot himself and was at the big trauma hospital in Houston. Uncle Z posted his suicide note on Facebook for the world to see (do you know that it's impossible to get anything changed on someone else's Facebook page if you don't have their password?), so there was lots of conjecture and rumors going everywhere. Regardless of the lack of speaking, RB was obviously upset. The hospital had no record of Uncle Z coming in, their mom was heading down there, and the police wanted to talk to someone and turn over the gun to someone in the family for safe-keeping. So, he headed to Houston, eventually found his brother, was there for a week and every weekend for 3 months after that. He paid his brother's bills (including a mortgage that was 4 months behind), spent a ton of time with him and their mother, and worked with several friends to clean up the blood at the house and to fill in the holes in the walls/ceiling (he fired at least 3 rounds). Once Uncle Z was released from the hospital, he went to live with his mom, and has lived there for about 3 years now.

So, Uncle Z has some depression issues, and he's generally not a very nice person (part of why the brothers had stopped speaking years before). He's aggressive, mopey, completely unappreciative of anything anyone does for him while simultaneously being pissed when he doesn't feel like his gestures are appreciated enough (which they never are). He's miserable, and expects everyone to make every effort to make his life better. He's had 2 contract jobs since the attempt -- he ruined the first by using copyrighted material in a website that got the merchant sued and is currently ruining the second by being massively over budget and behind on every deadline since the first week. He hates his mother, so at least once a week, RB is playing mediator between the two of them (sometimes I take on the role of calming down the mom while RB takes on Uncle Z -- it's draining). At least once a month, Uncle Z can't handle his mother anymore and comes and stays with us for a week (that's my limit -- I don't care what kind of awful person that makes me, I WILL NOT have that man living with us -- he can be homeless, as far as I'm concerned). When he visits he brings his ornery dog, a rat terrier that loves to growl and snap at Caleb. So he gets to be locked up in his kennel or be outside when they come. Cause, well, this is Caleb's house, and he's not going to be pushed out by any visitors' dog.

The thing that has me worked up right now, though, is that he is now bailing on coming to our crawfish boil this weekend (we're having a crawfish boil this weekend! Woohoo!), because his mother is staying with us Friday to Sunday, and my parents are staying with us Sunday through Tuesday, so we don't have anywhere for him to stay with us. We told him this at least a month ago, and he's got friends in Austin (that are also coming to the boil, so we know they're in town), but rather than calling them and asking if he can crash there, he's now saying we didn't really want him to come, so he's throwing a 40-year-old man tantrum. That's the best way I have to describe it. Every time my family comes to town, I have to make them stay in a hotel, because Uncle Z and my mother-in-law can't figure out how to do that. I refused to do that this time. I gave everyone ample time to figure it out (heck, Houston isn't even that far -- he could drive in Sunday morning and drive back that evening -- it's only 2-2.5 hours!), so I hate being made out to be the bad guy just because he's wanting to be a small child. He comes by this behaviour naturally. Their dad hasn't been in our lives because he doesn't feel that RB really "meant" the invitation to the wedding, so he's been pitching a fit ever since. Has never met his only grandchild, though we've invited him to the Bris and the baptism, and we send him pictures. I guess the apple (Uncle Z) doesn't fall far from the tree (father-in-law).

Oh geez. This was quite the rant. All this to say, it's very tiring, though there's a tiny part of me that's happy I may not have to deal with him this weekend (but only tiny, because he will make us pay for us making him feel "unwelcome"). I know you don't marry a person, you marry their family. And believe me, this family gave me pause. But we will get through this, too. RB is so incredibly patient with his brother. I've been studying the book of James with my women's Bible study group, and I keep being reminded of James 1:2-4:

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

I know we're being readied for a strong-willed teenaged (or earlier) Caleb or some other patience-trying fun. The "completing" process, though, is really no fun and is never complete. I want to get to that not-lacking-anything place, but I'm not sure that I can survive the refining process. And I'm having trouble finding the joy in this trial.

Greatest Review Comment Ever

My review this week was generally pretty darn good. However, when we got to the section where we talk about what I need to work on, I got this priceless gem:

"You should really be more cheerful."

A Little Bit Lost

I just wish I knew whether this is the getting worse before it gets better part of the separation, or the beginning of the end.

Either way, it sucks.

Tea Fire Continues

Ed. Note: As before, times are listed in Pacific Time, regardless of the writer's location.

3:55am My laptop power issues are now assuaged, but the fire is looking significantly worse this morning. The acreage burned is up to 2000 acres. At least 80 homes have been burned. There is no sign of the winds calming down at least until the weekend. That's at least a whole Friday to continue being blown around, when the fire has already gone zero to two thousand acres in 10 hours.

4:22am This morning's plan appears to include about 20 fire-fighting aircraft to supplement the 500 ground personnel from all around the area. Let's hope and pray that's enough to keep the fire out of the densely populated part of the city that the fire seems intent on blazing through.

5:03am Apparently, the helicopters are running in the night by using night vision technology. That has had a significant affect on the spread of the fire through some tree groves. Amazing what they can do.

7:20am The cities are now requesting that people curtail their water usage. The water reserves for firefighting purposes are dangerously low.

8:03am The current main risk to people in the area is breathing of the smoke in the air causing respiratory issues. Worse than run-of-the-mill smoke is smoke from burning poison oak, which is common in the burn area. Inhaled, the toxin does really bad things to the inside lining of the lungs.

9:03am The latest press release says there are 650 firefighters working the fire now. It's not expanding at the moment, as the winds are much calmer. However, we're still talking about 100+ houses destroyed, and a 3000 acre burn zone. And, of course, this afternoon is the big litmus test for how much they've actually gotten it under control. With the mandatory evacuation line just two blocks from our house, we'll be watching this afternoon very closely.

Tea Fire At Home

Ed. Note: I may be in Austin, at the moment, but times are listed in Pacific Time.

8:31pm There is currently a fire burning not far from our house in Santa Barbara. GB has evacuated, and called to say he could not only see the fire from the house, but that if he walked outside it felt hot at 8pm. I am madly refreshing news site webpages, and praying feverishly. Will update when I know more.

9:13pm The first press release on this 3-hour-old fire is out, and seven houses are listed as having burned. None of the national news outlets have noticed, yet, and I haven't heard anything new from GB. Battery-life on my laptop is limited, but I'll keep checking on things. Ack. The not knowing is stressful.

9:29pm Heard from GB. He's out and safe, but it's hard to breathe outside. Keep the firefighters in your prayers. I'm going to try to sleep for a while and check again in the morning.

9:39pm Well, headed to sleep except that I heard from GB again. He's hearing 12 houses have burned, and the 50 mile-per-hour winds are the biggest challenge right now. Scary stuff when conditions are that volatile.

11:16pm Over 100 houses burned. 4 people with burns. More evacuations. The fire exceeds 400 acres. This one is bad, folks.

I Survived the Mother-In-Law's Tongue

My mother-in-law came to visit almost ten days ago. I am finally, now, recovered enough to write a post about the fun that was. I'm convinced this must be what it's like for women who talk about how they "forgot" the pain of childbirth when it was over and they saw their child (which must be the reason they tend to have additional offspring). The only excuse I have for allowing her to come visit this time? I must have forgotten what the last visit was like.

So that I don't forget these things for the future potential visits, I will write them down here. These are the lessons I've learned from the visit of the MIL, this time around.

1. Don't let her stay at the house with us. In Austin, we had a very small house with just one bathroom, and used that as the reason that people who came to visit needed to stay in a hotel. We had one just down the street that we put people up in -- nothing fancy, but just enough so that we had a little respite from the visitors, and as a bonus -- no need to cook breakfast. The corollary to this (learned from a previous visit by the MIL) is not to allow them to pick the hotel. When she came to visit for Thanksgiving that year, she stayed at a place 45 minutes away. And expected us to go over there and spend time with her there.

2. Keep the schedule packed. If there is even a moment of downtime, it seems the world implodes. Don't let that happen, as the cleanup of a world implosion is unsurprisingly long and painful.

3. Pray for extra patience for the duration of her visit. I don't know how to avoid the condescension and the self-pitying (yes, she's better than me and the worst person in the world all at the same time -- hmm, where is that supposed to put me?). Since it can't be avoided, one must steel themselves for the onslaught, using all tools available.

4. Try to keep GB from talking to his mom too much. He gets more fed up with her, even than I do, but when he finally stands up to her, she gets mad and stomps off to her room to stew. Yes, she's six years old.

I'm sure there are more lessons that I should have learned, but this is what I remember, and what I don't want to forget for next time. Otherwise, I'd just like to leave you with a couple of choice MIL quotes from the weekend.

"If I'd known what having kids would have entailed, I wouldn't have had them." Thanks for wishing GB off the face of the planet.

MIL: "Do you see a trash can?"
HIAHS: "There's one right there."
MIL: "Oh, I'll just give this to you and look at this over here."
At least three permutations of this through the weekend. Geez, lady. Am I your personal lady-in-waiting or something?

"Heather, did you make this?" When a phrase like this is followed by a yes and then the crickets chirping, it makes one think you don't appreciate their sorbet/blanket/etc.

"I'm bored. I'm bored with myself. I'm bored just listening to what's coming out of my mouth." You're not the only one, lady.

"I would love to live out here. I'm moving out here. Well, not really, because I don't want to cramp your style. But how far is Solvang/Summerland/Paso Robles/San Luis Obispo/Ojai/Ventura?" Too close to us for you to consider.

"Can I help in the kitchen? You know, I hate to cook." I think this ranks up there with another offer-and-then-take-it-back sort of thing I heard recently.

I know we had some nice times too, but I have to say I was so emotionally drained when she left that I needed to take a couple of days just to recover to feeling normal again. Oh, and she'll be back with her husband in October. They will be staying in a hotel that time around, though. At least that's one lesson I hope I've learned.

Death and Taxes

Today I would prefer death to taxes. Well, not really, but man did they suck this year. Combine the fact that we sold our big deduction-stuffer with moving to a state where we have to pay 10% income taxes over and above the federal taxes, and they just were not pretty this time around. The sales tax is maybe half a percent higher in Texas with no income tax, so this was a rude, rude awakening. Where does all that money go? I can tell you it doesn't go into the highways. At least not the ones I drive on. I feel like I'm paying the state government for the good weather. I'm just going to assume that money is used on services that don't apply to me, which while not particularly ideal, makes me feel better than some alternative idea that some politicians or lobbyists are getting fat on my 10%.

Um, Yeah....

Apparently, by tomorrow, I meant the day after tomorrow. Which is today.

Yesterday was a very bad day in Heather-land. It started out fine, but took a nose dive after lunch when we decided to meet up with friends in Ventura. The guy in the couple was the department drunk at UT, and he hasn't changed. Losing track of what I was doing, I drank an entire bottle of wine. Oops. I had to throw up on the way home, and then spent about 3 hours in the shower just trying to feel well enough to climb in bed. Needless to say, I didn't cook dinner or post or anything.

I haven't done that in years. I imagine it will be a while before I do it again, too. Hopefully, forever. I hate feeling like that. And to know I did it to myself is just that much worse.

Halloween Withdrawal

Halloween might have been yesterday. I wouldn't know. No children came to our house to trick-or-treat. I bought candy, turned on my porch light, and waited patiently for the little costumed beggars coming for me. And I waited...and waited...and finally gave up and went to bed.

Austin is a town that seems to live and die by Halloween. You just can't go through the day of October 31st and not remember that it's Halloween. We would have 50-75 kids come through for candy in the evening, and you would crash in bed thankful to be done with another year.

See, I'm not really a fan of the holiday. Never have been. Maybe it has to do with 4th grade, where I was invited to a Halloween party as a joke. They just wanted to see what kind of crappy costume I would piece together with what was laying around. And here was 9-year-old Heather, shocked that this girl wasn't just being nice. Regardless if that was the cause (it was the only Halloween-related memory I could come up with), I just don't get that excited about it. However, it was sad this year having absolutely NO Halloween.

No trick-or-treaters can mean one or more of a few things:
1. There are no children in Santa Barbara. This would actually confirm a few things that have been troubling me about this much-older community.
2. Our house is on some list of sex offenders. This would be awesome, because then we'd never have fundraising kids coming by.
3. The porch light being on is actually some weird California code that we don't know about that means "stay away or the crazy people inside will eat you!" Ah, the culture shift and little faux pas we may be making.
4. This is one of those places where overprotective parents only allow their kids to trick-or-treat at houses where they know they people. Where's the fun in that?

But mostly I'm just sad that now my husband will eat all that candy I got for the kids. And I was finally shrinking his sweet tooth!

How Can I Be Anything But Crazy

My dad called this afternoon, about 3, and left a message on my cell phone. Then he called again at 4 when I hadn't called him back yet. Then he sics my crazy aunt on me, and she calls at 4:30, and then she paged me at 5pm, because my dad's called her because he's worried that I'm not answering my cell phone. NOT ANSWERING MY CELL PHONE???? Dude! Calm down -- it's been two whole hours!

It seems he was concerned that the latest fires were about to consume us, even though the vast majority of them are in Malibu (a ways south of us) and San Diego (a long ways south of us). Meanwhile, I was paged for work at 11:30 last night, and had finished working a 13-hour day, and wanted to take a nap. Just a weensy little nap so I don't become complete psycho-girl, but that was thwarted. First, the plumber came to fix a leak 10 minutes after I fell asleep, and then there was the onslaught of worried relatives.

So, now you see what I'm up against. How can I possibly be a productive member of society when I have genes like that pulling for my total descent into Crazytown?

And now I'm going to go try to get a real nap -- one to try to make up for my lack of nighttime sleep last night. And please don't call me until tomorrow. Thank you for your consideration for my sanity.

Trying to Concentrate

I'm having a hard time concentrating on working today. See, there's this wildfire at the top of the mountain I live at the base of, and it's distracting me. You haven't heard about the Santa Barbara County Fire (aka the Zaca Fire)? Well, please allow me to provide you with a few tidbits, courtesy of the local fire deparment.

Mostly it's burning in the Los Padres National Forest. Forests have lots of trees and underbrush suitable for wildfires to thrive on.

The fire is currently 67% contained. That means 33% of it is still completely out of control.

The fire is 127,244 acres large. That's big.

It has cost (so far) $73.4 million to fight. That's even more money than it costs to buy a house in Santa Barbara (which is another post of its own).

It has been burning since the beginning of July, but it's been really close to the top of the mountain since the end of July. Variously we have beautiful clear blue skies that look like there is no trouble brewing over the ridge, and then we have days like today. Today there is this smokey overtone that looks like someone took a sepia-colored paintbrush to the entire visible world. The houses look paler, the trees are grayer, and the sky is brown. You can smell the smoke in the air. It's heavy and gross and potentially really dangerous.

The big concern is regarding the possibility of a sun-downer. These are great windstorms that could blow the fire up over the mountain and right down to the ocean. Apparently, this is what happened with the last big fire to hit this area in the 90s. There was a fire burning on the mountain, and within a day it had burned its way down the mountain destroying all the houses in its path and burned itself out at the ocean. Let's hope history isn't planning to repeat itself quite so soon.

I wouldn't say I'm afraid, but I am trying to get prepared, in case something bad does happen -- even if the "bad" is just that we have no power or water pressure drops to practically zilch. I've seen several disaster preparation checklists, and it just doesn't look like much fun, but these things seldom are. The big thing, right now, is to make sure we have gas in the car and our phones charged up and ready to go. Tonight we'll be doing some assessing of what we'd need to have with us if we needed to evacuate quickly. For now, there is no alert or evacuation order for our area, but you never know until the winds change (quite literally).

With way too many things running through my mind, I'm having trouble actually getting work done. I'm distracted easily and can't concentrate on anything difficult. I've been trying to investigate the same thing for the last two hours, and it should only be a 30-minute thing. You should see how long it's taken me to type this up.

Meanwhile, I had to call the customer that I've been trying to do the investigating for this morning, and they are in Houston with no power because of Tropical Storm Erin. Ah the irony. I love the irony.

Middle of the Day TV

I'm stuck at home on the couch with the flu. Official flu. I went to the doctor this morning and got diagnosed, along with this little medical gem: "After the first 48 hours, there's not really much we can do -- you just have to ride it out." I just can't get over how little there really is on during the day. Lots of court TV, daytime soaps, and random violent talk shows. I realize we only have basic TV that we can get over the air. I guess if we had cable or something, my sick days wouldn't be so miserable. But then, that's kinda the point of the sick day -- that you desparately want to get back to your regular routine. Well, Middle-Of-The-Day-TV, you've won -- I don't want to watch anymore Judge Alex or Jerry Springer or As the World Turns. I want to get better and go back to work.

The Car In the Shop

Last week, my car was in the shop getting some work done on it. As a result, I didn't have my car. I know that sounds obvious, but it's surprising how those things don't all come together in one's brain at the appropriate time.

The first day, my plan was to bike home. So, I packed the bike into my car when I dropped it off at the shop and headed to work. After work, I got on my bike, and rode about a mile before crashing into a curb trying to avoid an approaching car and getting a nice flat tire. So I walked. My husband met me about halfway home and drove me the rest of the way.

With the bike pump in the trunk of the car at the shop, That option was out for the next day. My husband took me to the office the next day, and I took the bus home (or to happy hour, depending on how you look at it). That was an experience. I enjoyed the reminder of why it's fun to people-watch in such a format: the woman reading a book; the two men conversing in an Asian language; the guy who talked to himself the entire ride.

I rode in the next day, too. Here, I found the people-watching at the bus station. People in uniforms trying to get to work, and people who didn't seem to have bathed in weeks. It was incredibly interesting to me, who hasn't ridden a bus since highschool.

As I neared my destination, I actually got off too early, and had to walk a few extra blocks. It was nice to walk a ways, though. It gave me some extra quiet time, some time to think through my day and get to a good place to start into it all.

With a monthly pass costing just $10, I think I'll have to look at riding more often. It's an awfully relaxing way to get to work.

Convicted Person Found Here

I have allowed my appeal period to expire in my traffic ticket case. I received a ticket back in January for running a red light. I'm convinced I didn't run any such light, so, I plead not-guilty, and went to court. The cocky part of me didn't hire a lawyer, and I lost. With a reduced fine, but I lost nonetheless. I believe that may actually have been the most stressful situation in my entire life. It's taken me a month to even post about it, for goodness sake. Regardless, I now have a conviction on my record for the next three years.

But, here I am to find the silver lining in that cloud. The week after I lost my case I had no trouble with my solo in church. I guess there was something about doing something else much more stressful that made singing not seem like such a big deal anymore. Now I have another one tomorrow, with none of the old butterflies.

Very nice, but why did it have to take something so sucky to fix the other phobia? And what can I do to get over the fear of heights?

I Cannot...

My company has a beginner level flag football team, and we had our first game tonight. Let me give you the run-down on the things I have (re)discovered I don't do well.

• Catch a pass. I apparently am incapable of catching a football thrown to me from as little as three feet away.


• Throw a ball. I managed a weak lateral once, but there are no beautiful spirals being thrown from my hand.


• Catch a punt. I came close twice, but no actual catch.


• Run the ball. In my one carry tonight (a basic handoff play), I lost five yards for the team. Couldn't even get back to the line of scrimmage.


• Protect my quarterback. I believe he was sacked 4 times on my watch.


• Tackle. I had quite the time trying to actually get the flag, and the one time I did, I pulled the player's flag before she caught the ball, making it harder for another team member to find the other flag to bring her down.

Conveniently, it looks like I'm capable of snapping, so I might still have a future on the team. And they need four girls on the field at all times. Maybe next time we can score at least once, and finish out the game without the refs declaring a mercy rule ending to the madness.

There are a couple of things to be aware of in Heather-land: I'm not big, I'm not fast, and I have no depth perception. Not sure what made me think I could play football (and, ha ha, as a center no less??). I also always wonder about the other teams in a beginner league. They always seem like they've played before, and are just trying to clean up in the easy league. Maybe we really are that bad, so it's a good thing we all still have our day jobs.

Personal Mayhem Diaries

Scars are journals of some of the bad things that happen in our lives. They chronicle accidents and surgeries and physical pain in life. Here's the way my scar diary might describe my life.

---

When my owner was just over a year old, she was jumping on the bed, fell off, and landed on her rocking goat (don't ask -- her parents were hippies). The goat apparently had a loose nail that went through her lower lip and ripped a nice lip separation. Besides being hippies, her parents were apparently also too young and uninformed to get me stitched up. Now I am ragged-looking, but I get paler with time.

In 3rd grade, Heather was in a bicycle accident. She was racing a friend back to her house, going opposite sides of the block toward the far corner. She thought she'd be smart (like any good 8-year-old), and took a shortcut through the alley. The very gravelly alley. The knee took a few bits of gravel for a snack, and now I'm here, looking a bit like a mouth to tell the tale.

If you look at her left foot (not the movie), you'll see where she had another bike accident the next year, when I was born. She was following the same friend from the previous story when the friend stopped suddenly. Heather couldn't stop in time, and the pedal cut a nice gash in the top of her foot. She was wearing jellies at the time, so the top of the foot was exposed. I was certain I needed stitches, but again, her parents wouldn't help me. I tell them now that I would be smaller if they would have cared about medical attention for me.

I am found on the outside of Heather's right ankle. She was learning to shave. And she didn't do so well. I'm actually darker than the neighboring skin. I was the first scar to do that.

On the insides of both elbows, we are not trackmarks from Heather's heroin addiction. Regardless of any bad jokes she might try to tell, don't believe her. Instead, we are from half a dozen whole blood donations and probably 20 plasma sales. She apparently had to start selling plasma because she was in college, and was broke. The right arm was significantly juicier, so our colony is larger there.

On her left hip you'll find me, a more recent member of the family. At least I get to say that I'm the only visible scar that was created by the medical community. And there were still no stitches.

Heather is still quite the klutz. While cooking dinner at Thanksgiving, the large turkey and the small oven converged to create me on her left forearm. There were three burns during the cooking of that turkey, but I was the only one good enough to cause a scar. And, I have the distinction of being the latest scar so far.

Being a Manager

Being a manager is great when everything is humming along swimmingly. Things aren't so great when someone who works for you isn't doing the bang-up job you'd hoped for. Performance issues are some of the hardest things to deal with. You have a responsibility to the company and the rest of the employees to address the issue, but when you're as afraid of conflict as I tend to be, it's downright terrifying. I've had several issues I've had to deal with in my career, and the hardest are the ones with people that really want to do the work, and be good at it, but they just aren't getting there.

This most recent issue has been one of those times.

Bruce* has a great attitude, and really wants to be at the company. He tries hard, and wants to do a great job in the position, but he's just not picking things up. I have explained things differently, and over again, and again, and again. I have had other people explain the concepts to him (thinking a different approach might be all he needs). I have adjusted my expectations, knowing that I am a hard boss and it can be difficult to meet my very high expectations for those who work for me. I've gone back and forth over and over about what I didn't do right -- what I didn't teach him, what I might have expected him to pick up on on his own, etc. Believe me, if people who used to work for me at other companies didn't ask me on a regular basis if they could come work for me again, I would take these times hard and assume I was a terrible manager. However, at some point I have to say he isn't the right fit for this job. That is what I finally had to do, and proceeded to have a heart-to-heart with Bruce. Nice guy that he is, he made my job a little easier, and decided to quit. He's finishing out the week, and then it's on to other things.

I would love to never have these kinds of situations come up again. Invariably, though (unless I start working somewhere where the only employee is me), it will. As my mentor told me when I had my very first situation like this come up when I was in my first management role, "If this gets easy, it's time to stop managing people." I've taken that to heart, and I hope I've been kind to Bruce. In time I hope he even sees that this leads to some sort of positive change in his life.

Good luck to you, Bruce. I truly mean that.

* Name changed to protect privacy.

Early Thanksgiving Dinner

I'm the turkey! Today I will go into the doctor's office again to get plucked and stuffed, or at least that's what I've decided to call it. They have this nice long thin section of gauze stuffed in the open wound to keep it from healing too soon. When I went in yesterday, they pulled the piece out and worked a new one in -- even had a medical student watch the process. Tomorrow they're definitely pulling it out, and I hope they won't decide that they need to put a third piece in. It's no fun having tweezers push gauze into an open wound.

Ancient Diseases

So, yesterday I went to the doctor and had an abscess drained on my hip. Abscesses, or boils, are giant zits of staph infection that, left untreated, cause pain, fever, nausea, gangrene, and could get into the bloodstream and wreak some serious havoc. How do you treat them? Cut a hole and squeeze the pus out. What causes them? Not real sure. How do you prevent them? Again, not real sure. I know my husband brought the bad bacteria into our house (he's had 5 of these things since July), but beyond that, no one seems to know anything.

Here's the part I don't get. Wasn't this one of the plagues that Moses announced to the Egyptians? That's kind of a long time ago. It certainly sounds like something that shouldn't be occurring anymore today in such a medically-advanced culture. Why is the treatment still so barbaric? It is the kind of thing that smacks of leeches to me.