Floor no more!

Thumbs way up.

Gaze your eyes upon this marvel:

You might wonder why I would be so excited about a rather tacky-looking part of our house. Well, cease your wondering and hear this: last night I finished the last non-closet piece of hardwood flooring in the house. Considering that we started laying the floor almost a year and a half ago, this is quite a cause for celebration! You might notice that the final row of wood there is way skinnier than the other rows. I ended up ripping it lengthways. It got pretty tricky in the place where part of the drywall comes down lower than the rest - I had to chisel out a section of it so I could squeeze the strip in place. Lucky for me I'm so danged handy and clever.

So that's Done with a capital D (and a -one tacked on right after). Like I've surely said before on here, I'll say again - you should buy me a beer! Seriously, you should get me one.

I've got some closets left to finish, and in the remodeling of our main bathroom there will be some tile to lay, but getting to this point is a huge milestone. When projects drag this long, I tend to lose sight of the end, and suffer a lack of hopeful imagination. To be perfectly honest, if we ever buy another house, and someone tries to pitch to me that the house "has potential", I will probably go momentarily insane and give them the most painful wedgie ever experienced (this side of the Mississippi, of course).

Oh, and in case you're wondering what type of floor this is, it's cherry birch. I think the "cherry" part of that is really just the stain, 'cause the wood doesn't have a hint of red underneath.

So, in sum:

-All room-hardwood done,

-Buy Joe a beer, and

-Consider it wise (had to find a way to start this one with a C)
(and -onsider) to never tell me a house "has potential" unless you realize the same is true for your underpants.

Tales of Two Victories

Howdy y'all! Glad you could make it back after over a month of shirking on my part. You might read the title and assume more of a continuity between the ensuing tales than actually exists. Really they're only connected in that they're both part of my life, and both tell-worthy. Oh, and I'd better go ahead and throw this up there:

WARNING: Graphic images of man-over-nature conquest. Not for viewing during meals. Strong caution to anyone with a soft spot for annoying flying pests.

I haven't said anything on here about our trip to Tennessee in early November. It was great. We stayed with these people, this guy and his wife, and this guy. Other than a night in Chattanooga, TN, we spent the rest of the nine-day trip with these good friends. So good to see them all.

It was while we were with the Cavins in Murfreesboro (yes, that word has too many r's) that I decided to venture out for a game of disc golf. Though it was a difficult course, I was enjoying myself until about hole 13. First, I threw a disc into some bushes. Not a game-wrecker in and of itself, mind you. So I go to retrieve it.

New paragraph for dramatic emphasis. While bending down and pushing a side a branch, something flies into my ear. Yes, you read that correctly, a bug assaulted my ear. So I did the logical thing and began to freak out. I cussed the bug. Didn't help. Hopped around while bug-cussing. Nothin'. Pulled on my ear and ear lobe, attempting to widen the hole so bugzilla could make its exit. (Verbal abuse strategy still being executed at this point.) Nada. I figure maybe I can dig the sucker out with my pinkie finger. Nope. And now my ear is hurting a little bit from jamming my finger in. Not to mention burning from my own creative brand of tongue-assault.

I should also point out that there is a periodic throbbing from the beast flapping some kind of wings. Magnified, of course, by the proximity to my eardrum. Kind of like when you stick earphones in and don't realize all your volume controls are maxed out. But way more maddening because THERE'S A FRICKIN' BUG IN YOUR EAR.

Now, by this point I've started to make some observations and hasty doomsday conclusions. One, my disc golf game is pretty much over, because my ear is starting to hurt, and for all I know, I've busted my ear drum by digging around in there. Second, if I have in fact busted my eardrum, I might have to go to a hospital and the rest of the vacation is ruined. If it's not perfectly obvious to you already, I was ill-equipped to handle a bug in the ear.

I make for the car. Hopping, fuming, and pulling my ear all the way in hopes of evicting my unwelcome tenant and salvaging my game. I don't think too many people witnessed the spectacle. I race for the Cavins' house. By this point I'm unsure whether the intermittent throbbing is a result of the bug refusing to give in to death by earwax or the whooshing of wind past my busted eardrum.

I finally arrive at Casa Cavin. I burst inside and, upon seeing Kathryn, tell her gravely that I need her help. She comes into the bathroom and I bring her up to speed on the situation at hand.

"There's a bug in my ear. Either it's still alive, or I busted my eardrum and now it's throbbing from the wind."

"How would you have busted your eardrum? Did you jam something down in there?"

"I stuck my finger in to try and get the bug out."

"You wouldn't be able to reach your eardrum with your finger."

"Oh. Okay, good."

"Plus, your ear would be killing you."

"Okay, it doesn't hurt that bad. So it must still be alive in there."

At this point, we formulate a plan. From high school biology, I remember that bugs can be killed with rubbing alcohol. From high school lifeguarding, I remember that the stuff you use for swimmer's ear is basically just rubbing alcohol. So the first step is to drown the perp with alcohol. I lean over, pour some in, and there's a moment of extra-intense throbbing. Finally, it stops, and I know that whatever is in there is dead.

Jenny has an idea of how to get the thing out. Kathryn has already looked in my ear and can't see a thing. So we use a sucker bulb (the kind used to clean boogers out of babies' noses) to squirt, no, violently flood my ear with water. Kathryn did it once and it didn't work. I'm like, "okay, let's try it again, but you don't have to do it so hard this time." Jenny's all, "actually, sorry, it does need to be that hard." Take two. The water rushes painfully in. Bingo! It worked. Kathryn can see something big in my ear, so she grabs a Q-Tip and fishes it out. Guess what was in my ear. You ready for this?

A fly. A very large housefly. Or bushfly, perhaps? We've surmised that it was likely mutated and bred for being huge and nasty and evil. Wanna see it? Lucky for you, I've got before and after pictures!

Before (this is once the fly is first out of my ear):

After (once the fly got all that was coming to it):

So yes, justice was done. And I'm posting this on the interwebs as a warning and example to any and all (bugs, mainly) who think it might somehow be a good idea to get into my ear and buzz around and not leave in a timely fashion. Beware!

Now, on to another victory - baby! Kathryn and I are very excited that this coming Thursday we'll find out if we have a bell-pepper sized boy or girl! This is probably the biggest milestone yet of the pregnancy, though of course the pregnancy itself is a huge milestone given that for the 11 months prior to getting pregnant, we weren't able to get pregnant. God's been so good.

Something about knowing whether we'll have a boy or a girl makes this thing so much more real. Not that it hasn't seemed real yet. When your wife only ever wants to sleep, eat (only of necessity, though) and puke, it's pretty hard to ignore the reality that there's a baby in there. But soon we'll actually know something about our baby. Something more than he or she has a head and arms and legs and a beating heart, which are all amazing in their own right. It seems like the real beginning of discovering who this wonderful little person will be, and who the Lord will be making him or her. (It will also be the beginning of not having to constantly type "him or her" or "he/she" or "Floriberto/Floriberta".)

I wonder what else you will be, little one. A jock? An artist? A nerd? (Well, we kind of already know that one.) A comedian? (Again, no one is questioning this one.)

Will you be shy? Outgoing? Subtle? Pull-no-punches? Inquisitive? Fearless? Boundlessly energetic? Boundary-pushing? Bold?

I know you will be loved. Indeed, you already are. I know you will be brought up to be on constant lookout for the Lord, finding him in both unlikely and time-tested places. I know we will teach you to present those discoveries to the world so people can taste the goodness the Lord has baked deep into creation. I know you'll be someone who cares deeply about people, and constantly learns to better put their needs ahead of your own. I know you'll be a joy to know and see.

I'm excited about the surprises you'll bring us. About the ways you'll teach us to love and trust and not be so jaded about life.

I can't wait to hold you and kiss your little head. People will probably think I'm running for office.

I'm sure that moment will come soon enough! In the meantime, Mommy and Daddy have lots to do to get ready! This includes making sure your room has a floor. Aren't we the best?

Okay, readers, I'm talking to you again. Thanks for stopping by! I'll try not to make it forever between posts, but we all know how that can be. Until next time, remember what we've learned today:

-The only good bug is a mutilated bug, and

-Coming soon, Boy or Girl Peebles! We'll let you know!