Slow updates again, mainly because I'm on meds that are making me sick. Again. And the moving issue. And trying to find a second care assistant for the boy after the one we hired flaked out. And trying to fit in the work for Neoplastic amidst all this.

I just haven't had the energy or drive to write between the side-effects and the stress of (trying to) pack and move. I'm saving it all -- what I have left, what I can muster -- for the illustrations. I'll be done with those soon.

The new house, however...one thing after another. The closing date is being moved. Again. Supposed to be mid-month...now? We're not even sure when or if.

One of the pipes over the kitchen began leaking. The owners tore out the ceiling to get to it and fix the pipe. We already knew we had to tear off the old deck, also over the kitchen, and fix a leak in the roof under it, so we were content to just leave the ceiling open to dry it out and then replace the whole thing ourselves after the other work was finished.

In the process of this, our inspector discovered a junction box that wasn't up to code fifty years ago (much less now) and looks like a fire-hazard waiting to happen. This must also be fixed and replaced.

But the loan we're taking out has special provisions regarding the property it will pay for: meaning the issue was just forced and the sellers will have to repair all the damage themselves before we can close (which is, frankly, fine by me as it saves us money and time).

Assuming (and I'm not) they're willing to do all the repairs, they've dragged their feet on some minor pre-sale issues already (piping in the second-floor bathroom and a hole in the wall that needs to be paneled), so I just don't know how long they'll do so on major and more time-intensive issues. Or they might decide, if they're doing all these repairs, they want more for the house than we can afford.

Best-case scenario: we move next month instead and they do all the repairs, taking what's already been offered, given any offer is free money for them since they gained the house via estate.

Worst-case scenario: we might have to put in a new bid on another house with less space. There aren't a whole lot of options, as we're limited by our price-range, and finding a decent four-bedroom was a challenge as was.

In either case, I probably ought to un-pack the 360 and leave it out a while longer. Also, mini-wireless PS2 controllers are awesome. But Jen and Galen both kicking my ass at Crash Team Racing is not so awesome.

Also, I'm an uncle. Awesome!

I have now completely forgotten what the heck I was going to write about. Oh well, here's a run-down of things I recall from the past week:

Damn cold. Fifty below zero. Kids stayed home from school and actually let me sleep-in without destroying the house. Amazed. Then they went berserk in the afternoon. Not amazed at all.

Jen and I getting one night a week to ourselves with my work schedule and card game, in which I have finally ended my months-long losing streak (begun in November) with a table-sweep.

We are using our time together to play Dynasty Warriors 5 Empires, and I am currently loving the nunchaku! Holy gods, the devastation they work!

After eleven years, mounds of paperwork, waiting, more waiting, and more waiting, a hearing, and then more waiting, finally a favorable judgment. Now? More waiting. Jesus.

Couple of dreams:

I'm upset I'll never know where the Tardis went! (alien planet, zombie alien infestation, Night of the Living Dead, Doctor Who mash-up) Our ultimate escape from the zombie cockroaches and weirder things was the Tardis, which the Doctor has supposedly stored in the upstairs...but which he now can't find until he cryptically solves the problem of where it is right before I wake up.

Then there was the dream about being trapped in a dream-world where we were being experimented upon by aliens, except the dream world had rules even they couldn't figure out allowing us to escape and enlist what turn out to be memories against them, and with that we were fighting a guerrilla war against them all while completely uncertain anything we were doing was actually happening or if anyone else (or even ourselves) was real.

While playing last night, our middle daughter managed to crack herself in the face/nose pretty good, leading to some serious crying and serious bleeding. Eventually, she stopped bleeding and was OK, at which point my son says, "Wow! I've never seen anything like that before!"

Now, he accidentally cut off everything past the end joint of one of his fingers when he was very young, so I ask, "Even when you cut off your own finger?"

He replies matter-of-factly, shaking his head, "No, I wasn't there for that."

Rollin'. R O L L I N '.

My mother and father were waiting for an elevator while visiting my sister at the hospital when the doors opened and a doctor wearing a small knit cap on his head walked out.

My father pointed him out to my mother and said, "That man has a doily on his head."

These sorts of observations never make my mother as wary they should, and she chided that it was a cap and the doctor was probably wearing it for some sort of religious reason.

My father, in his usual dry humor, replied, "Ah. He must be the Doily Lama."

Wow, I haven't posted in five days?
It hasn't seemed that long. Ouch.

I've really been enjoying the production I've been given at the station, lately, and the fact that things are finally working much more smoothly and predictably, and less "Guess How Things Will Function This Week!"

The production has been more creative than usual, and I've heard high praise back for it from everyone at the station and the client as well. Couple weeks ago I played a sarcastic talking car, with a New York cabbie accent; and this past week I put together an ad for an Italian restaurant from the hometown, complete with traditional Italian opera music background and an Italian accent.

That one turned out smooth, particularly the business' catch phrase, though it took me two hours to finish because the copy was four seconds over spec. (You never realize how much time four seconds encompass when you're trying to cram thirty-four into thirty with your magical radio-voice powers). My voice is still recovering. Now, I'm waiting to hear what the other jocks think of it, as well as the client.

At the same time, I think I just ran the worst Friday shift I've ever done. I don't know what the problem was, but I was off: missing cues, stumbling over words, choking on the air. It was baaad; it was "like I've never done radio before" bad. Even knowing I wasn't on-the-ball, I couldn't get it together.

Also, my mother is taking the kids. Ohthankthegods! A weekend to ourselves, finally! I think the last time was four or five months ago; no, that's right, it was. It was sometime before Yule. It is badly needed.

At least with the exhausting number of extra hours I put in last pay period, I can start putting a dent in the huge and unexpected debt the world handed us last month (let's see: ridiculously high heating bill, seriously expensive car repairs, new eye-glasses to replace the broken pair, and just last week, the tv set in the living room blew. WTF?).

On a much sadder note, my grandmother was put in an assisted care facility today. I'm not sure how to feel about that.

I'm glad she finally was, because her failling memory had become a dangerous liability. But I'm broken up by the fact that she had to be. Up until a couple of years ago, and despite her age, she had no problems whatsoever; I figured she would remain clear-eyed and clear-minded, but now...I don't know. It bothers me a great deal.

The following is an e-mail exchange regarding who is going out to get supper and put gas in the car. I'm in the basement after having just come home from work. She's on the computer upstairs.

Jen: "Yea...it'll be less than $20 for sure (less than $15 depending on what you want). Do we have to rock, paper, scissors who's going to go?"

Me: "Sure, I choose rock...Looks like you're going. That settles that."

Jen: "I choose paper...so I win and you're going."

Me: "2-out-of-3: I choose Dynamite. You lose."

Jen: "Alright then...you said 2 out of 3...I choose a nuclear reactor...YOU lose!!!"

Me: "Is it a Russian or a Japanese nuclear reactor?"

Jen: "What the heck does that have to do with anything?!?!?! I win, period. You just can't accept the fact that you lost to me...your superior!!!!!"

Me: "It has EVERYTHING to do with it. Now, which was it, or I pull out the 'Universe Implodes' move and I win!"

Jen: "Both!! I have both, and I am not afraid to use them! Gabrielle is tired so she needs to eat and get to bed...who's going to get the food?!? Oh, wait...you are I forgot. :P "

Me: "You can not play the tired 4-year old card. That is so unfair. What do I get if I go? Huh? What's in it for me?"

Jen: "Yes I can. She's not feeling well and keeps crying that she wants movies and 'something drink.' If you go...just go and we'll discuss what's in it for you later. And if you don't hurry up I will send the sick **3** year old down to make you feel bad. :P "

Me: "Fine. I hate you. Have a list ready. My little notebook is on the bookshelf."

I found out yesterday that my parents do not recall the time during college that I was bedridden for something like a month. Notably, I don't recall it either -- that isn't to say I don't recall it as an event, rather, I don't recall the entire month as a cohesive block of time.

I have vague memories of drifting in and out of black spaces, waking to searing fevers whose pain time has reduced to a dully remembered ache, and moments of incoherent discomfort that exist mainly as bright spots between what I can only refer to as non-being, where I have no recollection of being (not simply dreaming or sleeping).

Beyond that, I couldn't tell you much else about the event. I wasn't even aware of how many days I was in bed. It is literally as though I lost a month of time, except for those few disconnected moments of awareness here and there.

I failed almost all of my classes that quarter because I didn't have long enough periods of waking or coherency, nor the strength when I did, to attempt the homework that piled up. I think I might have even tried at one point.

I don't recall what was responsible for the fever, and since my parents don't even recall the incident they obviously do not recall the illness' cause, but I do recall a trip to the local emergency room where the doctor gave me the wrong perscription. The pharmacist caught the doctor's error, thankfully, otherwise I would have been taking something toxic.

This isn't the only thing I recall that had a fairly big influence or affect on me but which my parents don't recall in the least. I can understand some of the other things the do not remember -- some passing statements made by my father that affected me deeply, that he denies having any recollection of making -- but how do you forget your kid having a crippling, month-long fever that caused him to fail college?

I am curious what sorts of important moments my kids will recall that will leave no impression of their passing on me.

So, I screwed up Valentine's Day.

I didn't have a card or a present for Jen. It isn't because I didn't want to get one for her, but the gift I ordered for her hasn't arrived. Hasn't even shipped yet, to my disgust, and I've never been big on cards.

Really, though, that isn't a big deal. I didn't get a card or gift, either. We're planning on exchanging gifts when we actually have a chance to go out alone for the night -- maybe in a couple weeks if my mom comes through for us.

No, it's much worse than that. I didn't say "Happy Valentine's Day" to Jen until almost 4pm. Of course, I barely saw her until almost 4pm, but what does that matter, right? I was apparently the fourth person to say it to her. Ooops.

But it's even worse than that.

What? Worse, you say?

Yes.

Valentine nookie.

Jen didn't get any.

She had bad breath, you see, and I asked her to brush her teeth. She says she was too tired to go brush her teeth -- too tired to brush, but not too tired for nookie? Huh. -- and anyways, said she had brushed them.

So, I feel BAD about it, but not SO bad that I could have tolerated bad breath with full-on mouth-to-mouth contact. Not even for nookie.

Regardless, I have been obliquely criticized about this failure on my part all day today. So, I screwed up Valentine's Day, but can you blame me?

My four-year old can't get enough of Princess Mononoke. She watches it constantly. And she loves "the naked"...

...the what?! The NAKED!

The funny little forest spirits with the rattle-heads who don't wear any clothes. She always giggles and shrieks insanely about THE NAKED whenever they show up, which in turn makes me giggle.

Then there are moments when you realize she's growing up into something more, something other than just a cute, huggable little person...she's becoming older and gaining a fully-developed personality, with ideas and opinions and huge thoughts you can only glimpse out of the corner of your eye.

You realize this because you're sitting in the living room sort-of reading a book and sort-of watching cartoons with her, half-watching Ben 10 -- half, since you've already seen the episode before: it's the one where Ben goes back in time and his sister ends up being the one with the Omnimatrix.

And when it ends, she turns from where she's sitting on the floor and looks at you and her older brother with these huge, amazed eyes shining full of wonder and says, just so matter-of-factly, mouth hanging open, "That was AWESOME!"

You can't help but grin at this exclamation, because you've never heard her express something like that before in just that way, but first and because you haven't there is this second when it just hits you: "Holy crap, she isn't my baby anymore."

And your mind quietly tries to work out whether you are excited or crushed that your babies are growing up into their own people -- sure it isn't all at once, it's just one little so-adult statement amidst a thousand child's behaviors, but...

Later, you finally decide you're both.

Well, the year has turned, and as it did so, Halloween rolled around again...and let me tell you all about that.

It was apparently my turn this year to bring the older two kids out on the annual candy-begging rounds. I say "apparently" because I didn't really know this until I was informed of it about an hour before lift-off.

Do you know how cold it was yesterday at that point? Well, there was SNOW coming down on us, it was windy, and it was around 10 degrees outside. Despite this, I could not convince either child that we should just stay home...nosir! There was candy involved, you understand.

This is why I need to live in Hawaii. I have been to Hawaii: it is not cold, it is warm. I love Hawaii. If I were in Hawaii, I would have gone trick or treating myself. As it is, I mainly drove the nice, warm car and let the kids run from house-to-house, because we have now entered that significant portion of the year when I would rather sit inside wrapped in blankets and never step one foot outside the house for any reason whatsoever.

I almost pray one of these years my doctor tells me, "For health reasons, you have to move somewhere much warmer. Somewhere involving tropical sand beaches."

I have also considered finding some way to tilt the Earth's axis. The Earth, she has survived worse than one madman's dreams of tropical warmth! And I really like the idea of Minnesota becoming the Land of Ten-thousand Tropical Lagoons, if only because I would then be able to avoid freezing my ass off for nine months of the year.

I suppose winter was better when I was a kid, and before I spent over twelve years delivering newspapers in -40 below weather while tromping through snowdrifts every stinking day of the winter. I still have dreams about that paper route all these years after the fact.

I swear, I'll be eighty years old and STILL have dreams about that damn paper route.