Very Informative Letter

Yesterday I got a letter from the Census department. It read, in part:

"Dear Resident,

About one week from now, you will receive a 2010 Census form in the mail. When you receive your form, please fill it out and mail it in promptly." Etc etc.

Only the government would send me a letter to notify me that they'll be sending me a letter.

Either this is wrong or I'm an idiot...

Guess which one I'm hoping for.


Okay, so here's a puzzle from my IQ calendar:


M..A...N
O...A...L
L....Z...?

Which letter should replace the question mark?



Are you thinking? Are you trying to figure this out? Cuz I sure did. I finally gave up and looked at the solution, which reads:


W. This is determined by the position of the letters in the alphabet (A=1, B=2, etc). The letter from the first column is added to that of the third column to dertermine the letter in the second column. So L(12)+N(14)=Z(26)


That would be lovely if L, N and Z were on the same row, which they are not. Or if you could add W(23) to ANY letter in the above equation to get the value of any other letter, let alone limiting your choices to some first column number added to W to equal some second column number.

Did they make a mistake or am I missing something here?

Seriously. I need to know. If I hadn't already thrown the box away I'd be on the phone to this company right now. I don't mind when I can't figure out a problem because my brain still gets a work out and I learn something from the solution. (I wish I'd saved the penny one for you.) But this is just driving me batty.

B.A.T.T.Y.

Help!!!!

Big, Big, BIG Numbers

My one-a-day calendar for this year is an IQ Puzzles calendar. I decided I need to challenge my brain on a more regular basis and this seemed a good way to do it. Some of the puzzles are easy, some are a fun challenge, and some are downright impossible.

Okay, not impossible. Just hard enough that I give up and look at the answers on the back.

The January 6 puzzle is meant to be a math puzzle, but I didn't even try to solve it since it felt more like a trivia question to me. You know, an interesting fact.

For those of you who like math enough to tackle this kind of problem, I'll give you the question and let you scroll a bit for the answer:

You have someone counting a billion dollars for you and he counts a dollar per second. He works eight hours a day and takes four weeks holiday. How long will this person be counting?

(Insert Jeopary music here...)

Answer: If this person works five days a week, 48 weeks a year, he will be counting 144 years, 248 days and 1.6 hours.

That's a really, really, really long time.

It kinda gives new weight to the number "one billion" - something we hear tossed around so much that I think we get numb to it. Like gratuitous violence in movies and soft-core porn in our commercials. How many of us really grasp the implications of one billion of anything?

Especially in the following context:

As of January 15, 2010 the United States National Debt is

twelve trillion dollars.

Trillion, not billion. There are one thousand billions in one trillion. And we've got 12 trillion in debt.

If I'm doing my math correctly (feel free to check me, since it's highly likely I'm not) that little dollar counting fellow would be counting our national debt for roughly

1 million 736 thousand 160 YEARS!

That can't be good.

Waa waa waaaaaa!

That's me. Crying. Cuz our computer is dead. Well, maybe not dead. A fine fellow in our ward is trying to resurrect it for us. (Is that being blasphemous??) Anyway, my first concern is for our data, because you would think I'd have learned to back up regularly by now, but I haven't. I can't even think about my second concern, which is what it will cost to get a new computer if our current one gets sent to the morgue. I'm praying for it. Seriously.

So, if you don't see posts in awhile, that will be why. And if I'm not commenting on people's blogs, that'll be why. And if you see me driving down the street crying, that'll be why.

Okay, I'm only kidding about that last part.

Thank goodness for the library's public computers, even if they only give you an hour a day. I'll totally, totally take it!!!!

Well Alrighty Then...

As you may remember, we've discovered Chris has something called WPW Syndrome (and if you don't remember, you can read his story here). Well, he's had four "episodes" of his heart racing in the last three weeks. You know, I wasn't too terribly worried after the first one. A little worried, yes, but not a lot. After the second one I thought, "Hmm." After the third one, I realized that each episode increased my worry and I started wondering what was going to happen next. The first three episodes lasted just a couple of minutes each.

The fourth one, which was last Friday, lasted for 25 minutes.

Well, I figured it was time to touch base with the doctor and let him know what was going on. Since these episodes still weren't troubling Chris, my expectations were that the doctor would reassure me that this wasn't enough to worry about. After all, we're no where near the 2 hour episodes he mentioned in the office. But we were also above the one episode a month thing he mentioned too. I figured I'd give him the details and he'd assure me we were still in "let's keep an eye on it" mode. I was calling him to ease my mind.

The doctor was out on Friday but I talked to his assistant, who said I'd get a call back Monday. He still wanted me to explain what was happening though, and I did. Again he said the doctor would call me back. He also said if Christopher gets lethargic or complains of his chest hurting, he needs to go straight to the ER.

Okay.

Well, I'm thinking to myself, that's just a precautionary note. It's not likely to happen. I still think (hope) that's true. But, I thought, this is also the kind of thing his caretakers need to be aware of, just in case. I had already made sure his school nurse, teachers (school and primary), etc all knew about the situation. That was mainly so they would know to record an episode if he had one (I'm keeping a log). Now I got to tell everyone "Hey, not to worry, but if you ever see these symptoms, please rush my child to the ER."

My plan to be comforted was not working so great. Still, I figured the assistant was just covering all bases and a call from the doctor would reassure me.

Today the doctor called. After I explained what's been happening and he asked me a bunch of questions I didn't know the answer to (like "Do these episodes stop suddenly or gradually?" - a question I never thought to ask Christopher), he basically tells me what's been happening is "concerning."

Now, the word "concerning" was in the middle of a big ol' sentence, but heck if I can remember that sentence because my mama bear brain heard one word: Concerning.

That word flipped a switch. It's the switch that makes a mother worry, no matter what. I keep telling myself the worse-case scenario is this relatively non-invasive, low-risk surgery that will solve the problem. I know Chris is going to be fine. The mama bear in me is only a little comforted by this. Anyone have a solution to this? Because it's completely non-productive to worry over it and there's no point making myself crazy. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The doctor decided he wanted to monitor Christopher's heart for 24 hours, in the hopes of capturing an episode. He wants to see exactly what's going on. If they can't capture an episode that way, they may do some other monitoring thing that lasts 30 days. I don't know anything about that one. I only know about the 24-hour one. Cuz here it is:

I took him straight after school to get hooked up to this (called a Holter monitor). He'll wear it for 24 hours (sleeping, school, everything), then I'll take it back and they'll analyze the data and get back to me in 3-5 days. I was given a little log where I'm supposed to write down the time of meals, going to bed, waking up, and activity - all things that affect his metabolism and heart rate.

It's hard to know what activity to write down for a five-year old. I'll write down recess and wrestling around with his brothers. But what about spinning around in circles off and on for ten minutes while I'm at the bank? Does that count? What about when he's in bed but not asleep and keeps getting up to get drinks and go to the bathroom? Does that count?

The instructions that came with the log say to write down anything that elevates your heart rate. THE LOG IS VERY IMPORTANT! the pamphlet says. But what we're really trying to do here is capture an episode, right? This is a monitor they use for lots of different heart conditions. How picky do I need to get?

I'm erring on the side of caution. I go back and forth between thinking they're going to think I'm a crazy, anal mother putting down things they couldn't care less about, and worrying I'm not being accurate enough and it's going to mess up the results.

Don't even get me started on the fact that most of the hours he'll be wearing this will be at school. I'll get to trust other people to get this right for me. Mama bear is very excited about this.

Christopher, as always, is pretty easy going about the whole thing. He's being careful with it (good thing - replacement cost = $1300 and I got to sign a form saying I'd pay up if it breaks) and he doesn't seem particularly bothered by anything. Even that 25 minute episode didn't faze him. His biggest worry was sleeping with the monitor. He was afraid he'd roll over on the monitor and break it. I assured him he wouldn't. (He won't, right?)

So, yeah. That's that. I'm trying not to worry. I keep telling myself, "Stop worrying! He's going to be fine!"

.

Well, maybe tomorrow I won't be worried. Maybe I just need to sleep on it.

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Gratitude Posts to Bring You This Message of Cheer

This is going to be tough today. I'm not in a particularly grateful mood. Last night as Brian came home, something broke in his car. We don't know if it's the transmission or what, but the gear stick doesn't work at all and just moves freely like it's not attached to anything. That can't be good.

We decided to get the Suburban running so he'd at least have some way to get to work while we figure out what to do about the car. The Burb's been sitting in our driveway, unused, for the last 7 months or so. After a lot of persuasion, we finally get it running only to discover it no longer shifts out of second gear.

Meanwhile, when we moved the van so we could give the Burb a jump, it started stuttering at idle and the check engine light came on.

So basically we have major problems with all three vehicles. Yippy skippy.

This morning I took the van to the shop and got to listen to them tell me it will take $710 to fix it, minus the $110 I already paid just to find out what's wrong. I'll be frank, the $110 hurt, but $710 is impossible.

I don't even want to know what it will cost to fix the Saturn.

So, what am I grateful for?

Lemme get back to you on that one.

When It Rains, It Pours

It's been a helluva week. Here's the latest:

Poor little guy. Three stitches. We got to the hospital shortly before 6pm, we got home shortly after 9pm (or was it shortly before? I can't remember now). Anyway, by the time I got him fed and settled down (he had a hard time getting to sleep) it was 10:30. It's now 9 am and he's still asleep, which is just as well. I'm sure he needs it.

I don't want to blog all the details cuz my heart just isn't in the blogging these days, but I do want to record this: Chris was so brave. Before they put the stitches in, the RN came in with a loooooong white blanket and said, "We're going to make you a burrito." So he stood Chris on the bed and turned him around and around in this blanket, which Chris thought was funny. Of course, the reason they do this is to immobilize their arms.

Then they laid him on the bed. I was on one side, the doctor was on the other, and the RN was up at the top of the bed, with one hand on either side of Chris' head. Basically, we were all in position to keep Chris still so the doctor could stitch him up without him knocking her hands all around.

But we didn't need to worry. He didn't fuss or squirm or anything. He didn't whine or cry. He was amazingly cooperative. The RN said normally he'd be holding the head still and the mom would be practically laying on her child's body to keep his hips still. We were all very impressed.

That's something Chris feels proud about, the rest of us too, so I had to record it. I'm thankful to my mom for rushing over here and taking care of the rest of my children for me. I'm thankful that Chris slept through most of our time in the waiting room and then received excellent care from caring professionals. For a trip to the ER, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been.

You've Got to be Kidding Me

In our neighborhood we have a problem with people letting their dogs run loose. It drives me nuts. I'm not one to cause trouble, but it's been so bad that we've even called in complaints on the worst offenders. Nothing ever changes though, so we don't bother anymore.

.

Well last night, our dog Ashley got out through the side gate. It was closed, but not latched like I thought it was. The neighborhood kids came running up to tell us she was out because they know she's not supposed to be. The kids were all in a frenzy, about six of them all talking at once, so I couldn't tell what they were all saying. It sounded like Ashley was in a dog fight or something. She's an old dog and doesn't have an aggresive bone in her body. I knew if she was in a fight, it would only be because she was being attacked by a really vicious dog.

.

I scrambled for my shoes, ran down the street and what did I see? The dog catcher. What is she doing? Loading MY dog into her truck.

.

I caught up to her just in time and she didn't impound my dog, thank goodness. But guess who, out of all the people on this street, ended up with a freaking citation for "dog at large"?

.

Me.

.

And guess who has to appear before a judge at the end of the month for this CRIMINAL offense? Me.

.

Yeah. I'm ticked.

Close Enough

When John first started scouts, the thing I most did not want to do (besides spend $30 on a little boy's shirt) was sew on the patches. The guy at the scout shop showed me this patch adhesive you can use instead. Oh glory be. I snatched that stuff up in a hurry, I can tell you.

Well, it works, but only kinda. After awhile, the edges of the patches start to come off.

After looking at these curling patches for months, and unsuccessfully trying to fix the edges with yet more adhesive, I finally decided it was time to actually SEW these babies on. I don't have a machine, but I do have needle and thread. Given how hard it was to get the needle to go through the very edge of the patch, I was grateful to also have a thimble.

After about three stitches, this happened:

Yep, my needle broke. And not just in half. No, it broke into three different pieces. I looked at the broken pieces in my hand, then I looked at the shirt with the curling patches and thought...

"Good enough."

Gee, that sewing project didn't take as long as I'd feared. Sheesh.

The Hunt is On

It seemed such a simple thing. I decided to do an art project involving marbles, thinking that would only require the simple act of going to the store and buying marbles. Right?

Oh no, no, no.

First I went to CVS (on the recommendation of one person) and then to WalMart (on the recommendation of someone else - Nylene in fact - and Nylene knows everything). But no. No marbles. I had Brian check Target when he was there getting something for scouts. Still no. Fine, I thought. I'll go to stinkin Toys R Us. So that's what I did. With all three kids in tow (silly, silly mommy) and THEY didn't have any either. Are you kidding me?

By the way, all these people claimed to be "out" but I didn't even see so much as a TAG with an empty shelf. Whatever.

If anyone has any information on the whereabouts of this dangerous and elusive fugitive, please inform the authorities immediately. Thank you.

Another Way to Waste Time on the Internet

Google Maps has reached a whole new level of creepy. I went for a walk with a friend yesterday, and since it was a new route, I wasn't sure how many miles we'd gone. To figure it out, I googled our address.


What do you think I should see when the map pops up? A picture of my house. Not a satelite picture from space. Oh no. This was a picture taken from the ground.

My mouth dropped open. It stayed open while I clicked the buttons to do a complete 360 of the area and watched as my neighbors' houses all came up on screen. These pictures are recent too, because our van is parked in the driveway. We haven't even had that van for a year yet.

It's very weird.

So I took a little virtual tour of my own neighborhood, seeing the occasional shadow on the ground... the shadow of a car with some sort of aerial-looking device strapped to the top. The camera.

Bizarre. And creepy.

What's the reason for this technology? Why would anyone think we'd need anything like...


Oh wait...


Do you think I can do this in Italy????


Okay, I'm off!

McDonalds Madness

This part of our drive to and from Dallas deserves it's own entry.

The plan for meals, both there and back, was this: donuts in the car while driving, a quick stop for sandwiches for lunch, then a longer stop at McDonalds for dinner. We started our trip at 4 am and wouldn't get to our destination till 11 pm. After all that driving, we figured the kids would need a good, long break to stretch their legs and get some exercise.

So all day, the kids were looking forward to their McDonalds stop. For about 100-200 miles, we had been seeing the town of Abilene, TX on the highway signs, listing how many miles to that town. We figured it'd be a big town, and seeing that we'd get there about 7 pm AZ time, it'd be the perfect place to stop for dinner. (The longer days of summer tend to push our dinners later.)

About 5 miles before hitting Abilene proper, we see along the highway a big, shiny McDonalds with a play area outside. "McDonalds! McDonalds!" the kids all shout.

"Once we're in Abilene," we say. "Almost there."

A few minutes later, we enter Abilene. We start watching for a McDonalds.

And watching.

The town (which wasn't that big, it turns out) quickly slips by. Soon it becomes apparent we're starting to leave town, and we haven't seen any McDonalds. Brian and I look at each other with a look that says Uh-oh.

We pull over at a gas station to find out where the nearest McDonald's is. "Fifteen minutes back that a'way," the lady says, pointing toward the direction we'd just come (and presumably the McDonald's we had passed), "or forty-five minutes that a'way," now pointing in the direction we're heading.

By now it's 7:15 AZ time, so the kids are ready to eat. But no way are we doubling back. We decide they can wait a few minutes more. We go on.

Ten minutes later we realize we're really on Texas time now, which makes it well after 9 pm. Now we're worried the play area will close before we get there. Brian pulls up the phone number on his GPS and calls to see when the play area closes.

They don't have a play area, the manager says. It's a franchise and he took it out for liability reasons.

Say WHAT???

We ask the guy if there's another McDonalds with a play area nearby, and he says no. A check on the GPS and a few phone calls confirms this. Oh man.

The kids were so disappointed. But they handled it well, and when we got to this McDonalds we let them run around in the outdoor dining area (home of the former play area) all they wanted.

That was the drive there.

This is the drive back:

Same plan for food, only this time, we made SURE there was going to be a McDonald's wherever we'd be around dinner time. We find one on the GPS, and I think it was only 6 o'clock or so when we'd make town (Thatcher, I believe).

We pull up and this is what we see:

Oh glory be!! A play area! "Yay! Yay! Yay!" The kids all shout. I think I may have been shouting too. We go inside. Brian heads to the counter to order and the kids and I head to the door leading to the play area, where we see this:

"You've got to be kidding!" I say right outloud. A couple people looked at me like I'm some sort of impatient you-know-what, but I didn't care. These poor kids!

Well, we got their food, except for Ben who was still feeling sick. We learned there was another McDonalds in Globe so we decided to let the kids eat in the car and then we'd stop at the McDonald's there for them to play. We also told Ben we'd get him a Happy Meal there, even if he didn't feel like eating it, so he could at least have it the next day (McDonalds is such a rare treat for us, and we felt bad he was missing it).

We get to Globe. The play area is there and it's open and so the kids finally get to play. Seeing we were so close to home, I could only handle a short 30 minute stop. I was really ready to just be home. But we let the kids play. Ben laid down on the hard, marble bench and put his head in my lap and barely moved a muscle the entire time.

Right before we left, Brian asked Ben which of the Speedracer happy meal toys he already had. Brian said he'd try to get him a different kind if they were available.

As it turns out, they did not have a different kind. In fact, they didn't even have the boy kind. They were all out until their truck got in the next morning. Can you believe that? So Ben walked out of there with a pink, girl toy and the promise that we'd trade it in for a different one at a McDonalds the next day.

I tell you, it was madness. Pure madness.