Holy Hallux Valgus Batman

Translation: Sorry my genes code for jacked up feet. The picture below is the last one I took in 2006 before I had my first bunion surgery to correct my right foot. It was the more severe case, which you can sort of see from the pictures. Well, the surgery went great however, I was in a cast for 2 months not allowed to walk, which made me go bonkers. Yet, over the past year, I was having some issues with the big toe joint of my right foot again, not to mention the left foot surgery needed to be accomplished. Now the photo below was taken today.

ON THE LEFT: You are looking at a 10 day post-op photo of a bunion-ectomy. The left foot required two screws to be positioned in my first metatarsal. I was walking on my feet (limited time with crutches) immediately.

ON THE RIGHT: This surgery is the second surgery on this foot. The first surgery included a major reconstruction of my right first metatarsal including 3 screws and a metal plate. Well, over the last four years the toe joint has become very flexible and formed some scar tissue which collectively made the toe start moving out (see prior post x-ray). SO, the two surgeons who operated on my feet made two incisions: One is obviously on top to re-fashion the allignment and hardware. The second is hard to see, but it is actully on the instep of my foot where they went in and cut a tendon that was pulling my toe out of straightness. Finally, they placed a pin in the joint which will remain there for another 4 weeks or so.

Below: Close up of the left foot (he cut that callus off with an x-acto knife after this pic was taken).

Below: Close up of the right foot, round two. Funny thing is that I wasn't ever expecting to see the pin sticking out of my foot, nor did I realize there would be two cuts. I just thought it was some little simple thing. But, the Dr. didn't want to commit to anything concrete with me until he "was in there."

The good news is that I'm walking around. I'm limited in my time on my feet, but thankful I'm not in a cast like last time.

4 Years and 2 Metatarsals Later

It is time to have the left foot operated on. I had the right bunion removed exactly four years ago. It kept me off of my feet for 8 weeks. It was super frustrating to have a one year old that didn't walk along for the recouperation too. Now, I'm having pretty uncomfortable nerve pain everyday in my left foot, so I know it is time. Here are my most recent x-rays:
You can see that the right foot still has the hardware in the otherwise straight bone. Now, the top of that big toe has shifted because of scar tissue, so my doctor is going to actually do a "little procedure" on my right toe joint to make it straight during the same time next week when I have the left bunionectomy. Wish me and my family luck. I will be in a cast for Christmas - time - cheer.

I've Got a New Plan

I don't know what's in store as far as my specific model, but I will be forking over good money for an RV/Trailer/Class C in the sort of near future. I mean, I may have to wait until I retire, or the kids go to college, but maybe I'll get one sooner.





My old (last two years) plan was to buy property in Northern Arizona now, then build a cabin when I retired. But, as a good friend pointed out: I'd be more free to just take the RV wherever I wanted. Duh. What was I thinking?


Well, I know what I was thinking. I thought NorAZ would be a good "jumping off" point, if you will, to further RV adventures. It is hard to drive anywhere worthwhile from Dallas. But, I realize now, that I don't need a cabin to start all of my adventures from. Instead, I just need an atlas and a gas card. I don't mind driving, and this way I can put all my resources into a sweet travel set up instead of splitting up my expenses between land, lumber, and travel on wheels.



Sometimes I think about trying to still just travel around and home school the kids. I mean, I could really like to do this....
Yeah, just stop on the side of highway on a Tuesday in September and snap this shot. But, for now, I have a plan. My plan is to get away from it all, everyday.

Unbelievable

http://borderinvasionpics.com/

Check the videos and photos on this website. Wow. Shocking southern AZ documentation by hidden camera.

All Joy and No Fun

Lucky for me I knew having kids was going to be rough. I think most women think it's going to be "fun." neh.

All Joy and No Fun


Now, if you're too lazy er, busy to click, here is an excerpt to wet your whistle:

"This result also shows up regularly in relationship research, with children invariably reducing marital satisfaction. The economist Andrew Oswald, who’s compared tens of thousands of Britons with children to those without, is at least inclined to view his data in a more positive light: “The broad message is not that children make you less happy; it’s just that children don’t make you more happy.” That is, he tells me, unless you have more than one. “Then the studies show a more negative impact.” As a rule, most studies show that mothers are less happy than fathers, that single parents are less happy still, that babies and toddlers are the hardest, and that each successive child produces diminishing returns. But some of the studies are grimmer than others. Robin Simon, a sociologist at Wake Forest University, says parents are more depressed than nonparents no matter what their circumstances—whether they’re single or married, whether they have one child or four."

Four Weeks Away from Sedona, Arizona

...and going to slide rock... I've been to Sedona several times, and I've seen slide rock state park, but I've never truly experienced it. Should be fun to take all the kiddos.

Prom. You can't stop it. You can only hope to contain it.

Debbie, Me, Kristin and Alisa

Phil - My Dad - June 1955-March 2010

Although Phil was born in the Texas Piney Woods of Texarkana, his formative years were spent in El Paso, Texas. I recently read some notes in which he described his regret for not staying in school and getting into trouble during his teens. I have a feeling that guilt haunted him for most of his adult life.

Some people never really fit into our Western World. I think my dad was one of those square pegs that can't fit the round holes here on our part of the Earth. He didn't care much for worldly possessions. He didn't shop. He didn't need to drive a nice car - ever. He didn't seem to even care that much about money. His possessions often were disposable and lacked meaning. He cared more about saying hi to people and trying to be kind to friends and strangers than gaining any position or materials. He was really just an immensely kind-hearted soul that often got hurt or frustrated or disappointed by people. I know God has a plan for everyone. Phil was important because of how God used him. God used my dad to teach me patience, acceptance, humility, tolerance and empathy.

About the time I first remember Phil, he was married to Gwynn and had just turned 20 years old. We lived in Southern California in a tiny house behind the owner's house. Phil decided sunny California wasn't the place for him. Instead, he sold us the story of a grand city called, "Dallas" which neither my mom nor I had ever been to. It wasn't long before we were packed up and headed back to the Lone Star State chasing some dream.

After that it is a stream of visions of my dad...

Throwing the Frisbee...

Cooking...

Fishing and camping...

Phil taught me many lessons and many skills. He taught me to ride a bike, throw a football, change a bike tire, build a model car, change a car tire, and check the oil. I watched football with him on Sundays and Monday nights. I was the son he never had. He showed me the nuances of a sandwich: that mayonnaise goes on turkey, and mustard goes on ham. In the kitchen I learned to scramble eggs, chop an onion, value jalapenos, sharpen a knife and you better fill an ice tray if you use it. Arguably most important is the secret to magazine maintenance: that you must tear out all of the card-stock advertisements in a magazine before you read it so your pages don't keep flipping to them.

When I reflect on what we had in common, I now realize the one thing we both cared about: food. Seriously. Just days before he passed away, I left the hospital late after visiting hours concluded and stopped at the grocery store. It really hit me that night how sick he was, and I think I realized that he wasn't going to make it. I found myself slowly going down each isle with my buggy while every can, bottle, loaf, seasoning, and sauce reminded me of Dad. I thought of how he recommended such and such, and how many times he'd come over and made gravey for me or made a rue for me. That's when it hip me: our relationship was groceries. Our love language was food. Maybe it was that I often went with him to the grocery store, or perhaps it was all the cooking I watched him do, yet most likely our relationship was that way because I loved all the food he cooked. Either way, I'll miss his culinary expertise forever, and thus, his love.

Phil loved his big Blaylock family down to the smallest baby. The phone calls on Sunday from his sisters would put a spring in his step. He bragged on his neices and nephews and their kids whenever he had a chance. And, you should have seen Phil with his grand kids. He was so sweet and gentle. It made me smile for him to get that unconditional love from my girls. Scout and Brooke would both hug and kiss him, and he'd just have such a big smile while he hugged them back so softly.

God loved Phil like he loves each of us; unconditionally. Phil's work here on Earth was done on March 18, 2010. Before going to Heaven, he was a servant to his mother while she was ill in the hospital. He was a servant helping Gwynn, care for my granddad and Richard while they were ill and subsequently passed away. Fortunately, Phil was able to see and hold and hug all of his grandchildren. He obtained sobriety for almost the last two years of his life. He was a Christian, and had been to church several times with us over the last year. In my opinion, Phil's life had many valleys including debilitating mental health, poverty and addiction. Perhaps the valleys outnumbered the peaks of his life. Still, he fought the good fight, he finished the race and he kept the faith. I'm just at peace now knowing he doesn't have to suffer in his broken body in this world any longer.

Like I said, I don't think he was ever meant for life on this Earth.

To see the amazing video my sister made Click Here

313 What?

Can you hear me in your headphones?

White Sands New Mexico Circa 1982

I found this little gem while going through my dad's belongings this week. Here we are in the famed White Sands National Monument where you can bake on the sand like a little weenie in a biscuit. I remember a couple of trips to White Sands; my parents thought it was really awesome. And I guess, it sort of is. Gwynn and Phil liked to take us to lots of cool places, and my mom would always follow the visit up with the same quip, "Not bad for poor people."

On this particular trip, I remember some sandwiches out of ice chest being consumed, then lunch was followed with either card board or garbage bags being used to slide down the giant hills of sand. Of course, pictured below is mom and dad and me and charlie. Yes, I look like a boy with a dorthy hamill cut. Just go with it. No, my sister isn't wearing shoes. We did a lot of non shoe wearing. My mom and dad were what i like to call, "free spirits" ok?

I also remember I was able to get a souvenir: a paper weight with a scorpion in suspended animation in the sort of amber-tree sap sort of way. I had that paper weight until at least college. If you are wondering, "why white sands?" Well, my family drove from Dallas, TX to California every summer. We always stopped in El Paso to see my granddad. Often, we'd do excursions around that area. I guess mom was right....for poor people, we didn't do too bad.

This Is How We Camp....Now...

Scott and I took the girls to Tyler State Park for about 24 hours of fun. Before kids, we would have stayed several days with lots of late nights and naps. But, one night seems just right at this point in our lives. In a Texas State Park, you don't need a fishing license. It's free. Scout LOVED fishing. Scott was really patient with the girls even when Brooke drowned the bait (worms). The picture below is of my morning coffee brewing....

Brooke's "fishing pole."

Christy brought Cale out for a couple of hours to visit. Brooke enjoyed playing with him at the camp and on the playground (and even in the fire pit).

Night Crawlers anyone...?

Scout casting...

Camper is kid friendly...

Christy...

My prized pony...

Scout with her new fishing pole and fishing hat (from WalMart, duh)...

We are gearing up (practicing ) for our big week long camping trip in June in Flagstaff, AZ. We may have to get back out to Tyler for more "practice."

Biggest Snow in North Texas Since the Alamo

I don't know what that title is saying, but I have just really enjoyed watching "real" snow fall and accumulate. I see how people up north need mudrooms too. We have kids boots, mittens, hats, etc, etc all over this house with water puddling. First pic from yesterday and the 2nd two are from today. I got to use the 4 wheel drive today for the 2nd time. I had to dust the cobwebs off the shift knob.

We Have A Visitor

I hope you can see these pictures. I took them of the tree outside our bedroom window and of an opossum. Since an opossum is not that uncommon and perhaps not that exciting, you may be wondering why I would take time to blog these pictures. I am posting them because I was excited to finally get a visual of what was waking me up in the middle of the night stomping around the side of my house! Yes, this opossum is the answer to my lingering question. See, we have quite a lot of what I like to call detritus, or leaf litter, also known as lots of dead leaves on the side of our house. I like it there because it is natural in how it breaks down organically. But, I also like it there because it provides a natural security or alarm system: you can't sneak up on the side of the house...it is so loud walking on 2 feet of detritus. So, yeah, I've heard what sounds like a small person walking outside my window a few times recently in the night. And, yes, I GET UP and look out the blinds all stealth-like. One time I woke Scott up determined that someone was on the side of our house. He got out of bed and even went and inspected. I realize that it could have been a dog or cat, but I never could see anything. But, this morning was different because I heard the noise of some tiny person or huge cat walking on the leaves when I looked out the window and saw an opossum at the base of the smaller tree we have out there. Then, he crawed slowly up the tree right in front of me and the window. He perched up there on the branch in the early morning sunlight probably trying to get some rest from a night of foraging.

Anyway, I'm happy to identifiy our intruder. I'm also looking forward to spotting him each morning when he returns. I've got Scout on high alert for opossum spottings as well. It is like we are training for camping.

I WANT A TATOO