on genetics

My head is still spinning from an earlier conversation with my kids over supper tonight. My 2nd child informed me that I was the oddball of the family because all the kids have blond hair and blue eyes, and I don't. She also informed me that I more closely resemble the family dog "Sam" than any of the kids, because he at least has green eyes and facial hair, unlike any of the kids. Kinda disturbing, huh?

on one's own helplessness and John Milton

I don't normally have weighty matter on my mind, mostly because I have in my mind a long list of stuff to get done, and I am always slower than I think I should be, so my concentration is always upon "The List". Living like this lends itself to a nearly self-absorbed, shallow life, but that's OK, because mostly I'm a self-absorbed, shallow guy, and I don't feel much missing. In other words, before I go too much further with this, I don't want to give anyone the wrong impression that I just sit around and contemplate 17Th century British poets all the time.

However, I recently came down with the nasty, nasty "crud" that the rest of my family got and nearly made me extinct. That's no big deal, I do some of my best work when I feel the worst, I always figured I'd a lot rather be doing something when I felt lousy than sitting around feeling sorry for myself and thinking about nothing but how bad I feel. But add to that a nearly crippling back injury incurred last Monday, and it pretty much wiped my "List" clean. Wednesday, I worked through the pain and cut firewood when I came home, then woke up around midnight new years eve (real party animal, I know) with such excruciating pain that I made my first new years resolution in years; that I would really take it easy Thursday. So with as much self-control as I could muster, I did nothing all day. It isn't as easy as it sounds.

But I had nice time anyway, and read something by John Milton that really struck me. If you didn't know, he was probably most famous for his book "Paradise Lost", which he dictated in iambic pentameter to one daughter or another after he lost all sight. However, this poem is about the loss of that sight and his feelings of helplessness (which I happen to relate to lately). It is called "When I consider How My Light Is Spent"

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."

If any of you are like me, this will go straight over your head unless you happen to be laid up for a day or two, and don't like watching infomercials. But if you have several minutes, read it again.

High tea, cowboys, and dental hygiene

Here are some pictures just to let everyone know that it isn't all possum killing and blacksmithing at the foster household. the first is of the kids while I personally held a "high tea" (at least as high as it can get at the Foster Farmlet) yesterday while the ladies were shopping.


This is a shot at a good looking cowboy smoking a cigar with colorful sprinkles on the end. Apparently it is all the rage with cowboys nowadays. Below that is a picture of our desperate attempt of getting a handle on our bad dental hygiene.

Part II of Varmit Wars...

After officially declaring war on varmints everywhere after an earlier event where I come up a few hens shy of a full coop, I think that they have either given up and are throwing themselves upon my mercy, or more likely, they have decided upon a suicide attack method. Twice now in recent evenings, with all lights blazing, people talking and kids running around making noise, we have noticed a possum sitting on the back step, actually leaning against the glass of the sliding door. I'm not sure what they are doing, maybe trying to activate the little bomb hidden under their fur, but they didn't pull it off, I assure you.


So last weekend the kids came running in to inform me that there is a chicken that doesn't have a face. Never having seen a chicken without a face, I decided to investigate. Sure enough, just like they said, a live chicken, standing up (with where its nose would have been) in a corner, because without a face it couldn't see where it was going. Darned possums, no mercy at all. A raccoon would at least killed it before eating it.



But anyway, about 1500 hrs, Wifey makes that universally feminine gasp and exclaims with usual exuberance "AHHHHHH, DANIEL LOOOOOK OUTSIDEEEEEE! So I look fully expecting to see Christ himself triumphantly returning or maybe a mushroom cloud billowing over where Wichita used to be, and see: what else but a nasty old possum. The interesting thing is not that he is there, even though it is in broad daylight, but what he is doing, which is eating his 2-week dead, quite frozen fallen comrade. I guess this is the I.C.U.POOP version of "No Man Left Behind", except it would be called "no possum left uneaten". Anyway, Wifey didn't like the gleeful look on my face as I shot him too. She knows me all too well; she could just see it in my face how sweet it would be to be able to have a small mountain of dead possums used as bait for live possums. How perfect would that be? Shoot one, and leave it lay; then another comes to eat it, shoot it, etc, etc, etc. That is what I call the circle of life! Wifey, of course, the quintessential killjoy, informed me that she wasn't thrilled with the concept of a mountain of dead varmints in the back yard that close to the house. Whatever! Where is that Christmas spirit of giving?

winter wonderland

So last tuesday it snowed about 4 inches, a beautiful blanket of perfect work stopping snow. What else can you do but call your brother up and see if he wants to bring his family out to go sledding? The only problem is, neither of us own a sled, but thats no problem for 2 guys that own a plasic 55 gallon barrel, a skil saw, several chunks of #10 rebar, and a welder. The end result was more fun than a barrel of Foster monkies, mostly because the kiddos could hunker down and not worry at all about getting blasted by the snow. Oldest LOVED it and she usually isnt too into "cold and wet fun". Even my dog Sam got into the action...

stop, drop, and slap...

So, Wife encouraged me to post this about the girls; if you don't know them, it wont amount to much to you, but the deal is this; the Oldest is so much like Wife it is startling. The interesting thing about that is while many of her traits will be admirable as an adult, some are so very irritating coming from a little girl. She works really hard to get everything "just so" in order to maximize comfort and pleasure.



The Second Oldest is much more like "good old dad" here. Sleeps anywhere, wears anything, and she just cant be bothered with little details that have anything to do with the silly notion of personal comfort. If that means your underwear are on backwards when you pull them on in the morning; hey, no problem... its not worth changing them around, she's got stuff to do!



Then there is the pain vs. fun ration factor for both... Oldest is very sensitive to pain, and wants nothing to do with anything fun if it involves pain, before, during or after (like on her bottom). Second Oldest however, is quite different. I would NOT say that she assesses the situation, and decides to do wrong anyway, even if she gets a spank (that would require forethought), but when it happens, she rarely cries, and just shrugs it off and moves on.



All this is to back up a small story that happened the other night. Some time ago, after being frustrated with the girls perpetually coming out of their bedroom for "something really important to ask you" or "just need a drink"... etc, etc, ad infinitum, they started asking about what legit reasons they could go out of their room for. My response was "Nobody comes out of this room unless you are ON FIRE!!! That is the only reason I want ANYONE to come out of this room!!! Clear?" "Yes-sir, OK Daddy".



OK, so the other night Oldest comes out of her room with "Just one really important question, Daddy". I think that I will just nip this in the bud, turn this evening into a lesson, so I jumped up and told Wifey: "Look out! She's on fire!" (obviously; she came out of her room, you know) Then I picked her up and tossed her on the couch and started slapping the "fire" out from all over her, while hearing screams of "stop it daddy, its not funny, ow www, please stop..." After I stopped, I explained how I was sure she was on fire (she was out of her room) so I must slap the fire out! She was quite unimpressed and turned around and went straight back to bed, upset with me. Heh, Mission Accomplished! I felt pretty darned good about my parenting, I showed her, didn't I? Funny, too, even though she didn't think so.



Just about the time I sat back down and was feeling pretty good about myself, something struck me: I leaned over to Wifwy and said "you know what, we're not done here. As much as she hated that, I bet Second Oldest will be out here for some "fire-slapping"." I no more than said it and the door opens and here she comes with a great big smile on her face, and while I sat there trying not to smile as my little prophecy became true in front of my eyes, she says: "look at me daddy, I'm on fire." And I am here to tell you, the smile hardly faded into winces at all during an intense "fire-slapping".

concerning the last post...

Just a thought, after you study the earlier post, if anyone has any ideas for a digitially programmable thermastat that would regulate (kick on or off) the pump when the water in the boiler reaches a certain temp, so that it doesn't pump cold water through a nice warm floor, I would be glad to hear of it. (cheap, of course, like something scavaged off of an old piece of equipment). And, by the way, the new pump is working great!