Pictures tomorrow (hopefully)...

Merry Christmas!

P.S. I'll upload more pictures in the days to come.

P.P.S. Ignore the goofy look on my face.

P.P.P.S. Thanks for the cool new fleeces Grandma and Grandpa!

Perhaps some of you will recall the story of the young boy from our church. He has a tumor on his brain stem, and 7 weeks ago, doctors estimated that he would live for 6 weeks. Today, I learned that doctors have estimated that he will live for an additional 3 months! Keep praying. God listens.

I forgot to mention that, on Saturday, we went out to dinner with the Kents and some of their friends from Huntington Beach. We ate at Woodie's Warf (which I do NOT recommend) on Newport Harbor. Afterwards, we went for a walk. The picture shows the view from the boardwalk.

Today is a day for lots of fake quotes ('this' is an 'example' of what I 'mean' by 'fake quotes'). I read an interesting article about an Indian runner who won the silver medal at the recent Asian Games. Apparently, this runner was stripped of 'her' medal when 'she' failed the 'gender test.' Failed the gender test? (How bad of a student do you have to be to fail the gender test?)

Apparently, there was a 'panel' who decided this person wasn't 'enough' of a 'woman' to compete with other women; though they stopped short of calling her a man (though I think it was completely implied that she was a 'man'; they said she had 'too many' y-chromosomes to compete with the women). Who was on this 'panel', you ask. Well, there was a gynecologist, endocrinologist, psychologist and internal medicine specialist.

In case anyone from the International Association of Athletics Federation is tuning in at home: YOU'RE OVERDOING IT WITH THE PANEL; anyone who's lived on a farm can tell the difference between a 'doodle' and a 'hoo hoo'.

P.S. For any out there who might be taking offense at my use of 'doodle' and 'hoo hoo', I apologize; Sarah made me write them.

P.P.S. I'll leave it up to you to decide which is which.

P.P.P.S. Read the story here.

Okay, not too much to report. I'm still recovering from that last two weeks of school. I played three hours of basketball on Saturday (I'm not really sure if that helped or hindered the recovery effort). I didn't do too much today except the laundry (which is quite the accomplishment: I hate doing the laundry). I think that's really about all I have. Maybe something more tomorrow...

1) I'm finally finished with school work for the semester.
2) Some of my posts now might have labels.
3) The victim of the Lapeer crime that I posted (the home invasion) turned out to be someone that I went to elementary school with. His name is Shawn Young. He was a bully. Huh.

P.S. The significance of the label is as follows: all posts with labels are linked together. For instance, I labeled this post "News" now, when you click on "News", all posts labeled "News" will come up (though only one is labeled this way so far...).

In the midst of yet another all-nighter, I'm comforted by the fact that the semester is almost over. 14 hours to go...14 hours to go...14 hours to go...several more pages to write...several more pages to write...several more pages to write...

Speaking of pages to write, once I finish this last paper, I'll have written 90 pages this semester (including 43 pages for one class--one class!!!). And all without a book deal.

Two papers down, one to go. All I had to do was stay up for a long, long time. No more writing. Must....watch.....tv....

Hebrew exam went as well as could be expected. Now I just have to write, write, write. And write. At least I don't have pink eye.

P.S. I think I've got pink eye.

To do list

Write 15 page paper: due Monday--done
Study for Monday's Hebrew exam--in a minute
Take Monday's Hebrew exam--on Monday
Write 10-12 page paper: due Tuesday--!!??!!??!?
Write 5-10 page paper: due Thursday--Wednesday, late into the evening
Prepare presentation for Thursday--in my head while others are doing their presentations
Give presentation: Thursday--no
Sue apartment complex for leaky roof in new apartment--Christmas day

How about this. In the short narrative within Job 42:8-9, God relates to Job’s three friends that God is angry with them. God tells the friends to offer a sacrifice and then says, “‘… My servant Job will pray for you, and I will accept his prayer and not deal with you according to your folly. You have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.’" In short, God was angry; God says, Job will pray for you, and I will not be angry anymore. Job prays. God forgives the three friends.

Why did God wait for Job to ask?

In answering this question, don't forget that Job's three friends had really been, as Hannah might say, butts.

Read the story here.

Interesting note from my studies. Most of you are familiar with the story of the Exodus and the plagues God sent to 'encourage' Pharaoh to let God's people leave Egypt. In Exodus 8, God sends frogs to cover all of Egypt. In the homes, the beds, the ovens. If a frog could jump there, a frog would be there. First of all, this would probably be a lot more annoying than most people realize. Frogs in your bed? Lots of them. Ever had a frog on your face? How about 7 at once? It's not really something you want.

So anyway, Pharaoh says to Moses, "Pray to your God that the frogs go away, and I'll let your people go." Moses says, "Okay Pharaoh; I'll even let you pick when you want the frogs to go away." To which Pharaoh responds, and here's the kicker, "tomorrow."

Tomorrow? TOMORROW!?!?!?!? TOMORROW????!!!!!!????

What?!?!?!?

Read the story here.

I'm really stalled on my papers. I think I'm just ready for the semester to be over. In addition, I've come to the conclusion that either 1) I'm not happy doing anything, or 2) I'm not happy in my current academic program. So, I'm stuck either 1) doing something that I do not enjoy (yet am paying a lot of money to do), or 2) quitting something that I do not like (and finding myself, once again, with no future prospects).

Remember, your vote counts.

P.S. Not only do I not enjoy the program, it is not academically stimulating, and it does not lead to anything (e.g., a career, etc.). So don't try to tell me that it's good for me. In fact, I think it's bad for me. The end.

P.P.S. I am NOT in a good mood.

Just a few more days until break... (and by a few, I mean 10; and I need every one of them; I've got too many pages to write).

Just thought I'd give an update on that home invasion in lovely Lapeer. Police arrived at the home of one suspect to find him being severely beaten by two of the victims. Looks like they knew each other (worked for the same house-painting company). The suspect was taken to the hospital and will later be taken into custody. Items at this suspect's house led police to the home of a second suspect who was subsequently arrested (but not beaten--that we know of). Most of the stolen items and cash were recovered. So what did the criminals get for their efforts? Many years in prison, a beating, and very guilty consciences. The victims, of course, got their money back and were, undoubtedly, left with the bonus of PTSD. The fruits of sin. Fantastic. Read the story here.

I have A LOT of work to do. Unfortunately, I don't seem to be doing it. Also, it doesn't seem to be doing itself. What a rip. Someone's going to be REALLY busy between now and December 14 (I really hope it won't be me).

In the last several years, some terrible crimes have been committed in Lapeer, MI (city pop. 9,000; county pop. 90,000), but this year has been particularly appalling. This summer, a young man and woman went on a killing spree, mercilessly torturing at least 3 victims. This fall, a gang of thieves brutally murdered an 80+ year-old widow in her bed; to avoid capture, they cut off her fingers and dumped her body in a field. On Monday, a group posing as FBI agents tortured a young family, ransacked their home, and stole undisclosed amounts of property. Click here for the story.

Mom and Dad, I'm putting my foot down: either start locking your doors or start packing; it's your choice.

For those of you who took the cataract test, I apologize. In an attempt to get me in trouble, Sarah hacked onto my blog and put up that monstrosity. Hopefully you weren't terribly scarred.

If you were scarred (or scared), and you'd like to yell at someone, please contact my good friend JP in Chicago; he was kind enough to try and trick me with the 'test'. If yelling at him isn't satisfying, please contact your local legislature.

~The Management

Most of you know about the young boy from our church who was recently diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. The diagnosis was given four weeks ago, and his doctors assess that he has about two weeks to live. As of today, his condition continues to worsen; he can no longer stand or eat on his own.

If you'd like more information about Anthony and his family, click here. Currently, our church is trying to mobilize people such that there will be someone praying for him (and for his family) at any given time during the day. If you'd like to sign up to pray, follow the links on the left side of the page. If you'd like to pray but don't want to sign up, feel free to do that as well...

If a picture is worth a thousand words, here's 7,000 words on what happened at Thanksgiving. Especially note the final 3,000 words. They tell an interesting story.

Apparently, this test will help diagnose an early stage of cataracts. I would encourage you to take it (make sure to follow the directions).

I seem to have seriously injured my foot. And it's really not a great story. I was making dinner, and I had a plate balanced on the edge of the counter. Somehow, I turned away and the plate slipped off the counter. Our plates are stoneware, mind you. STONEware. Anyway, the plate slipped and crashed, still perfectly vertical from the fall, onto my metatarsals (the five little bones in the foot).

Just so you understand, the plate was VERTICAL. So, it was like a karate chop. A karate chop of stone. The plate broke perfectly in half. IN HALF. Are we clear? The stoneware plate smashed so hard into my foot (vertically), it broke in half. My foot is quite swollen, and my whole calf actually hurts (I think there might have been some nerve damage). Maybe some basketball will help...

This time, the late night is turning into an early morning. Only five more pages to go. And then I go to class for four hours.

Another late night tonight; another big paper due (Friday). But instead of working on the paper, I've spent most of my time trying to figure out what classes to take next semester. Unfortunately, I haven't really come up with a combination I find appealing; the trouble is that I'm having difficulty seeing how the courses offered will apply to my life and/or career. I would imagine they will, but I've been pretty bored (and busy, paradoxically) this semester and would like to ensure that next semester is a bit different. At $4300 a semester, I don't think it's okay to be bored; I might as well take interesting classes for $20 a unit at the local community college.

In any case, I've found that theology and biblical studies are truly academic disciplines. Biblical studies is the field that examines the Bible as an ancient document and piece of literature. Optimally, theology would be the life-application of the truths in that literature; unfortunately, it seems to be riddled with speculation about questions that literature never attempted to answer. Ultimately, both fields do not speak directly to the simple truths about Christianity and the Bible. In an attempt to simply state the tenets of the faith, C.S. Lewis wrote "Mere Christianity". Here's my version, in even simpler form than Clive's.

The Bible attests to three things:

1) Throughout history, God has sought to engage humanity in a relationship.
2) The climax of God's efforts occurred in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.
3) As humans, God hopes that we will respond by a) loving God, and b) loving others.

I've found that our faith is not a discipline that requires a doctorate to better understand. Yes, the Bible as a piece of literature requires a doctorate to better understand. Yes, the finer points of theological discourse require a doctorate to better understand. But our faith is simple. Faith is about living in response God's love and action in our lives. Difficult, at times, but still simple: we must live in response to God's love. Now I just have to go and find another career, because I don't like literature.

But first I have to write an exegesis about Matthew 18:1-4, summarizing the historical context and cognitive schemata that were likely in place in the first century population.

No bruised tongue this time, but I ended up subbing in the basketball league again tonight. We had to play 4 on 5 because not enough guys from our team could make it. I wasn't shooting well, and we were down big in the first half. After the half, they were up at least nine, and then my shots started to fall. I made a couple three-pointers in a row, and my teammates started to get back into the game. We ended up winning by 12, and I think I scored about 20 points in the second half. It was a lot fun. If only I could have that much fun when I don't play well...

As it turns out, the recent theft of my identity (you know, the credit card debacle) was part of a larger operation. According to some reports, at least 550 other people also had their accounts illegally accessed. The numbers continue to rise, and the latest estimate is that the thieves got away with at least $100,000 in cash. Police suspect that an organized crime ring may have been involved. You can read an LA Times article here. What you can't read in that article is that I figured out that all the scamming occurred at a local gas station (actually three stations were involved). The case broke on Friday, but what the reports don't tell you is that I TOLD THE POLICE TO CHECK OUT THAT GAS STATION TWO WEEKS AGO!!!! (of course, I told the Newport Beach PD; the Costa Mesa PD and Secret Service are actually on the case, so I don't know if the officer I talked to actually passed on the information).

In any case, the police (and me, as of two weeks ago) figure that the thieves put a device on top of the actual card reader at the station. People swipe their cards, and the device (as well as the actual reader) collects their information. As they enter their pin number, a camera records their pin information. Later, the thieves make fake cards and use the stolen pin numbers to access the victims' (e.g., me) accounts. I became aware of the danger when I saw a report on Dateline or 20/20 or something.

Either way, when I put my card into the machine at that particular gas station, it felt odd, difficult even. I specifically remember thinking, "Gee, I hope there isn't one of those things on here that can steal my information." I went to the car and told Sarah that there might be something amiss. I even said, "Well, if there are strange charges on our account in a month, we'll know what happened." The fact is, I didn't really believe that it was going to happen. I just figured I was imagining things. I GUESS I WAS WRONG.

Not only did I break the case and not get credit for it (when I told the officer my thoughts after our money had been stolen), I also probably could have prevented the whole thing if I'd pursued my concerns like some sort of obsessed info-phobe. Oops.

Sarah and I used to live in Grand Rapids; right nextdoor is Cascade Township, MI (where the nice grocery store, "Cascade Meijer", is located; we lived closer to "Ghetto Meijer" and usually shopped there).

Anywho, I read today (AP national news) that a deer got a plastic pumpkin stuck on his head in Cascade Township. Wildlife officials were trying to figure out how to get it off without hurting the deer.

Here's a thought: eat the dear and then let your kids use the bucket to store crayons in until next Halloween. ATTENTION NEWSPEOPLE AND ELECTED OFFICALS: THERE ARE BIGGER ISSUES TO SPEND TIME ON.

In an unrelated matter, Hannah: keep your eye out for a deer with an orange smiley face.

Randy and Jan used to live near the town of Lorrach in southwestern Germany. I've been there a few times to play and watch basketball, do shopping, etc. Recently, there was a brawl in front of the town hall (the rathaus, I believe, in German). Apparently, a woman was 230 feet up and threatening to jump, and some teenagers (among the crowd of hundreds) began encouraging her to hurry up. A number of homeless people tried to stop the teens, and a brawl ensued. I think it says something about society when homeless people are more moral than young people.

You can read the article here. You can read another account of of morality in a person without a home here. Actually you can't. I thought Yahoo archived their news stories, but they don't. This means all my news links will eventually be deactivated. Bummer. Oh well, you can read what I wrote about it here. It's under July 26.

We had a pretty good weekend. Very restful. Unfortunately, I really have to get back to work (starting about five minutes ago). More unfortunately, our TV seems to be dying. It used to be that it would turn on after a few shakes. Now, it sometimes won't turn on for an hour or more of shakes. If you think watching TV is a waste of time, try shaking your TV for an hour. THAT is a waste of an hour.

I'm going to finish my papers with about five minutes to spare (I say "going to" because I'm taking a brief respite before my final edit). Hurray. Maybe someday I will sleep. Not now though.

For those of you wondering whether Vanguard was supposed to be easy, let it be known that assignments can be both 'easy' and 'lengthy' simultaneously.

There's must be something I like about writing papers all night. I did it today. And last week. And the week before that. And the week before that. Actually, I think it has something to do with the frequency of assignments in a particular class. For the record, I believe that assigning two ambiguous research papers a week for four consecutive weeks is a bad idea. In other news, I have a Hebrew test today. I should probably sleep before then. But if I do, I'll have to stay up all of Thursday night writing a different set of papers (due Friday). Saturday will bring rest.

At least I have my health. And $2004.50.

So this morning I went online and checked our bank account balance. It seems that we've gotten our money back already. May I be the first to say, God works quickly.

In other crime-related news, my mother is a social worker in the downtown area of the 3rd most dangerous city in the United States (see link for complete rankings). And, if I'm not mistaken, the ranking was based on the sheer number of crimes. Flint has a population of 120,000. Detroit, ranked #2, has a population of 950,000. St. Louis, ranked most dangerous, has a population of 350,000. In order to keep up, individual residents of Flint must commit far more crimes than residents of the other two cities. Pray for Mom.

I was mugged today. And yesterday. And the day before that. But not the day before that. But also the day before that. See Sarah's post for a longer explanation. After all, it's her money too (or entirely, she's the one with the job; I'm just a moocher).

The good news is, we didn't need the money ($2004.50). We were just hoarding it so we could do something fun--like pay off student loans, buy a house, or start a Roth IRA. Like I said, we didn't NEED it (we've got plenty of food, shelter, DVD's, etc.). Responsibility is for suckers anyway.

You know, I had a busy week this week. I read multiple books, wrote multiple papers, and attended multiple classes. But do you know what I learned? I learned that if you post a picture of an injured tongue on your blog, you get the most comments you've ever gotten for one post. In fact, what's amazing is that this post only tied the record for most comments. Do you know the other post that holds the record? Last Dec. 19. WHEN I BRUISED MY TONGUE THE LAST TIME!!! Go tigers.

Next year.

Perhaps you'll recall that last December 19, I bruised my tongue. Well, tonight I was subbing in a basketball league and...

On the plus side, I had 13 points at the half...

This is hilarious. And sad. And hilarious. But not the kind of hilarious that makes you laugh. Don't get your hopes up. Just read it.

It would be a real shame if he cheated...


For those of you not familiar with the subsections of baseball rules, note the brown spot on Mr. Rogers' palm. If it's pine tar (a substance that would cause a pitched ball to move in strange ways), he cheated. If it's dirt, he didn't. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Go Tigers.

I've got a weekend class tonight and tomorrow. There's just something I don't like about sitting in class for 12 hours when the Tigers are in the World Series for the first time in 137 years. They'll be playing Portugal for the title. Oh wait, there are no teams for other countries in the major leagues. Unless you count Canada as another country. Maybe that's why called it's a "World" Series...

I thought this was amusing. This was more amusing, but Mr. Seinfeld used some inappropriate language.

In case you were curious, I've writing papers all week. That's why you've been getting links instead of original content. Unless you want to read an essay on the form-critical method of Old Testament literary analysis...

I don't either.

I thought this was interesting. I also thought this was interesting. In the case of the latter, my comment is, "Duh...".

If you're interested (and have a relatively quick internet connection), you can now listen to one of my sermons (Sanctification: the difference between public transportation and salvation) online. Go here. If you'd rather listen to someone else's sermon, go here. I recommend choosing the latter. Mine is boring, and I pause a lot.

Sarah's blog is more interesting than mine. I refer you there. Go Tigers.

Go Tigers.

I got one of my first papers back this week. It was just something short, nothing major. There wasn't even a grade attached to it (credit or no credit, that kind of thing). Nonetheless, I got the paper back and there were some 'grammar' and 'syntactical' 'suggestions' penciled in. I used the single quotes with all those words for two reasons: 1) I wanted you to picture me making air quotes with my fingers, and 2) some of the suggestions were purely preference related (one synonym over another), and the rest were actually wrong (i.e., he suggested I change my paper from grammatical correctness to grammatical incorrectness). I am not happy.

Victory! God: 1, State Farm 0.

And by that, I mean that State Farm "elected" to "extend or coverage". And by that, I mean that State Farm has finally decided to cover our mold loss (up to $5000). And by that, I mean, "Praise God!"

Everything is, of course, still busy, but my pace has slowed somewhat. Before things get frenzied again, I just have a Hebrew exam and a few papers to start thinking about. Other than that, not too much is happening around here. So little is happening, in fact, that I can't really think of anything else to write. I suppose that I could make something up. Maybe some other time; for now, I just have to go put out that fire on our balcony.

Reading: 0, me: 1.

As you might have guessed, I've been reading. Someday it will end. That day is not today.

I left off with the cricket incident. Sunday, Sarah and I spent the entire day cleaning out our old apartment; throwing away the majority of our belongings was a real joy. Since then, I’ve been doing a lot of reading. Mostly books. Sometimes street signs. But mostly books. Yesterday, I had my first Hebrew exam. I think it went well. I’ve got another weekend class tonight and tomorrow, and, if you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to do…

I spotted a cricket today and realized two things: 1) crickets don't like to be peed on, and 2) crickets should not hide in urinals. If there was anything else I learned, it was probably that I don't like it when unidentified insects come from seemingly nowhere and jump near my private parts. But I think I knew that already.

Today, we received what seems to be a final, "screw you" from the apartment complex. They taped a note to our door (on legal letterhead) saying that we are required to move the mold-ridden things out of our apartment by Monday. If we don't they'll charge us storage rent (same as regular rent) for what looks to be about 45 days. Things could be worse, but we're tired of the crap.

Still have lots of work to do (15 pages to write in the next few days, hundreds of pages yet to read...). Broke down and bought a new computer (the old laptop was making me nervous: taking 10 minutes to turn on, going more slowly than normal, etc.). Have been having headaches and other maladies (what's new...). Landlord says we owe $3500 in back rent (we don't) and has threatened to evict. Good times.

God was merciful tonight. I had a migrane, but it wasn't as intense as usual and lasted less than two hours. All in all, it wasn't a great experience, but it came at the best possible time and wasn't nearly as excruciating as it could have been.

In other news, I had extensive conversations with our bank, insurnce agent, leasing manager, and a company I hired to assess our mold. Nothing was really resolved; though I did get to spend about four hours on the phone.

Good day, migrane, beaurocracy, lots of reading. I have to go and throw up.

Sarah has her first day with students tomorrow. She's excited and not, all at the same time. I continue to read for extended periods of time, occasionally trying to practice Hebrew but actually sounding like I just have something caught in my throat (I don't).

for me

Have you ever found a working, 50-inch, Hitachi Ultravision big-screen TV with a free sign attached to it? Before today, I hadn't either. Before today. I'll bet you didn't think I was going there, did you? As it turns out, today is neither my nor Sarah's birthday, and it definitely isn't Christmas, but God has given us a present. A used present, a present with some flaws, but an awesome present none-the-less.

Sarah worked at school today for 13 hours (doing lots of work prepping her classroom); in spite of that, she was planning on stopping at the grocery store on the way home (she had the car). Naturally, I told her I'd walk to the store so she wouldn't have to add more time to her day (aren't I nice). On the way home, 16-pound watermelon and half-gallon of sherbert in tow (see what happens when she sends me to the store...). I saw some people (who'd previously been packing a moving truck), pull out of the complext; near where they'd previously parked their truck, I saw a big TV just sitting in the hallway. My curiosity got the better of me (here in apartment world, people are always setting stuff out that they don't want), and I went to investigate. It was a nice looking unit, albeit a little dirty, with wooden cabinetry built around the sides and a speaker system built into the stand. And it was big. And it had a post-it note: "Sometimes needs to be shaken. Free. Take it."

Wouldn't I love to take it, I thought, but how the heck am I supposed to get it to our new second floor apartment that is at least 300 yards away. In the past, I might have tried to carry it by myself, but the thought of it made my back twinge, so I kept right on going. After I got the sherbet in the freezer, I was still thinking about the TV. I decided I'd just go and see if there's any way I could figure out how to take it. And I prayed (frivilous, I know, but my TV is covered in mold, you'll recall) that if there was any way to get it to our apartment, God would show me and help me do it. My mind was reeling with possibilities: knock on random doors until somebody takes pity on me and helps me carry it; offer that guy I just saw $20 to help me; strap it to my back, etc., etc.

I made my way back to the TV and was surprised it was still there (1000 people, all in their 20's, live here; it's really first come, first served). I made another inspection, thinking, wouldn't it be great if this had wheels; I pushed it. It rolled. Too bad, I thought, better luck next tim...wait, it rolled!!! Five mintues, and one short elevator trip later, we had ourselves a new TV. Granted, there's no remote (I'll buy one), and the screen has a few scratches and a slight contrast issue (I'll ignore them), but IT'S LIKE THERE'S A MOVIE THEATER IN MY HOUSE. Call me a garbage picker if you want, but I'm happy about our present.

Note the size of the TV compared to the chair. Also note that our old TV could have sat comfortably on said chair.

The saga continues. I talked to the insurance guy again, and he said there is still a possibility we could be covered. All we have to do is show there is a 'possibility' that the mold came from the flood that was the result of the dumpster fire (see post from May 23, or somewhere near there). Due to the fact that 'possibility' is built into the problem (floods cause mold, we had a flood, we have mold; hello? anyone? anyone?) and the agent still doesn't recognize it, I think it will take an act of God to convince him, and that's what we're hoping for.

In other news, I have my first classes tonight: Hebrew at 4, Old Testament Studies at 6:30. I'm looking forward to it, but I anticipate some difficulty with both (and especially with Hebrew). I'll know more about what to expect after tonight...

Well, after hounding our insurance agent for 11 days, he's decided that our loss isn't worthy of coverage. Our apartment complex has, of course, denied responsibility as well and has no plans to compensate us for our loss. A friend of a friend who is a lawyer initially told me that it was a "no-brainer" that the complex should pay. I called this friend of a friend back, and he seemed less sure, suggesting that I take up the matter in small claims court. So, I could threaten to sue and make my and Sarah's life miserable for the next few months (arranging witnesses, gathering receipts and pictures, making court dates, paying fees, etc., etc.), or I could just bend over and take it up the tailpipe, trying to clean mold off our ruined things as I accept our lot in silence. I have to go look for the bleach...

Edited sequence of events since returning to California.

Thursday: found our apartment filled with mold, called the insurance compay and the apartment manager

Friday AM: called State Farm, insurance agent said he'd send out an agent and would know more on Monday; manager said he'd send maintenance men to look at our apartment

Friday PM: no agent; maintenance men said they didn't see mold

Friday later PM: called State Farm, they said no agent until Monday; we went to the apartment and pointed out the enormous quantities of mold to the maintenance men; they gasped.

Saturday AM: we were given a new apartment

no further progress until Monday

Monday AM: called State Farm, they said no agent; apartment hired a company to find where the mold came from

Monday PM: agent arrived, took pictures and left; company decided the moisture was in the walls

Tuesday AM: called State Farm, insurance agent said he needed to talk to another agent and the company (mentioned above); said he would do it Tuesday PM

Tuesday PM: called State Farm, agent couldn't get ahold of other agent or the company

Wednesday PM: called State Farm, agent still couldn't get ahold of other company, did read report written by other agent; agent called landlord and asked questions

Thursday AM: called State Farm, agent still didn't get ahold of company

Thursday PM: apartment manager said sending out a new compnay to text toxicity levels of mold; new company would be out on Monday, results on Wednesday; asked if I just "wanted to sign a release of liability and take (my stuff) out"; not being the world's biggest idiot, I said no thanks

Thursday later PM: called State Farm, agent said he would talk to his personal supervisors

Friday early AM: threw my back out (too much sleeping on the floor)

Friday AM: called State Farm, agent forgot to talk to his suprvisors, said he would right then

Friday PM: called State Farm, agent said he would, "Go talk to his supervisors right now" (had forgotten again)

Friday Later PM: called State Farm, agent said he needed to talk to apartment manager and would know more on Monday

One week, zero progress. Thanks a bunch.

I'm still reading. I'll soon have to start writing. I've not gotten any news about the mold and the related insurance claim, so, for now, we're still sleeping on the floor. School starts in a week for both Sarah and myself. It would be nice to have things set up by then, but I don't think it's going to happen. Back to work...

Tonight we're spending our first night in the new apartment. We still don't have phone or internet (or bed or couch or table or chairs or clothes or computer, etc.), but I was able to get an old laptop running and have been 'borrowing' a wireless signal that is streaming into our apartment via an unknown neighbor. Thanks pal. Anywho, I recently relized that I have 1450 pages of reading to finish in the next two weeks. So that's what I'll be doing... More later.

Sarah and I have mold. I'll write more later (lots of internet investigating to do, and I'm at the library), but the gist of it is that we're moving and most of our personal property is covered with mold. We walked into our apartment (after a 18 hour trip), anxious to see how things looked after two months, and, as it turned out, things looked moldy. Very moldy. On the bed. On the couch cushions. On the computer. THE COMPUTER! And don't get me started about my basketballs. Presently, it looks like the mold came from one of the walls (you'll recall a previous post about a fire in the dumpster--when they put it out, there was standing water in the hall, and I'm pretty sure it was soaked up by our walls). Anyway, the apartment complex is moving us to a newly-renovated apartment (it's fantastic, and far nicer than we could afford), and our rent isn't going to change. Good from the bad. I read a Bible verse about that once...

Our drive to Alabama took significantly longer with our detour through Asheville (and the Biltmore Estate) and on the Blue Ridge Parkway, but I think the extra 400 miles was worth it. The history of the Biltmore is fascinating (click on the link), and I think everyone really enjoyed our time there. We apparently visited the parkway on a hazy day and didn't see nearly as much as we could've, due to low visability. Next time...

For now, we've at Grandma and Grandpa's (in Mobile), and it's great to be here again. It will probably be pretty hot today (yesterday it was 102 degrees about 200 miles north of here), but I wouldn't imagine we'll spend too much time outside. Hurray for central air.

Biltmore

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Tomorrow we head Alabama to visit my grandma and grandpa Watson. We're taking the long route down, with the plan of visiting the Blue Ridge Parkway and Biltmore Estate en route. All in all, it should be a great trip; I'll try and post some pictures via my cell phone, but we'll see how that goes.

In other news, I'm sick of taking Benedryl: I feel sluggish and stupid (I tried doing some simple math and it took far, far longer than it should've). I've also had a fever for most of the evening, so I'm beginning to think that the bees/wasps/hornets may still be battling my immune system. We'll see how that goes...

You’ll note that I haven’t been writing much lately. At first, it was the jet lag. As you might have guessed from the cell-phone pictures, Sarah and I were stuck in an airport for quite some time (27 hours in Philadelphia). All told, we traveled for a little longer than 47 hours (bad weather caused some cancelled flights), but we were also bumped twice, which allowed us to earn four, free, roundtrip tickets anywhere in the U.S. It’s quite a blessing. Because of tiredness, then, I wasn’t completely motivated to write. After we got back, my Uncle Mike and Aunt Gayle were visiting from Florida, and we were doing a lot of family stuff. Later in the week, I was just lazy. Then came yesterday.

Yesterday, I almost died. Sometimes, I say things like that, and I mean that I went through a difficult situation but didn’t really ever actually face death. Yesterday was real. It started with some heavy rain. We’d been having a heat wave, and, on Wednesday night, we finally got some relief: there was a three-hour thunderstorm and torrential rain. The storm was over by Thursday (yesterday), but the rain persisted. Dad had previously gone back to our creek and found it so swollen that he thought we might be able to traverse it with a canoe, and since it normally it isn’t much more than a trickle, I figured I better go back and check it out.

When I arrived, I found that we did, indeed, have a river running through our backyard. It was quite a sight, and I immediately headed deeper into the woods for further investigation. I came to a spot where two sections of the creek converge and found the whole area was completely flooded. I had my camera with me, and I tried to work my way to a spot where I could accurately capture the scene that was before me. In order to reach where I wanted to go, I needed to cross a section of water via a downed tree. I was quite proud of myself as I tiptoed across a trunk that couldn’t have been more than three or four inches in diameter. What I didn’t expect was the white-hot pain near my shoulder-blade.

At first, I thought I’d just run into a pernicious horse-fly (they grow pretty large around here), but when I craned my neck, I spotted the culprit. It was a wasp (or hornet, all I saw was yellow and black). At first, I was just irritated: what was I doing to him that he’d sting me for no reason? As I realized that I was being repeatedly stung by very upset insects, my annoyance quickly turned to, “AHHHHH!!!! I’VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE!!!!” I ran a few steps through the ankle deep water (by now, I’d crossed the creek and was in a swamp), and the hornets followed, still stinging. I decided it was now or never and, like a crazed bear, tore through the woods and ran to the house to take a shower.

Breathless, I burst into the kitchen, calling for tweezers (for the stingers) and Benedryl (for my allergy to bees), and I jumped into the shower. I hadn’t been stung in years, and these seemed to hurt significantly more than I’d remembered, but I didn’t start to get worried until I put two and two together: my ears were swelling (a bad sign: hadn’t been stung there), my armpits and groin where itching (another bad sign: hadn’t been stung there, thankfully), and my chest was starting to tighten (the cherry on top and worst sign of all). It was then that I decided I’d better go to the hospital.

Although I’d not previously had this kind of reaction, I knew enough to realize that I was in the early stages of anaphylactic shock (I think getting stung 10+ times really pushed my over the, shall we say, allergic edge). Whoops. It turned out to be God’s provision that I decided to go to the ER: my symptoms continued to worsen as we neared the hospital, and, by the time we arrived, my face was purple, my lips and ears were huge, and I’d broken out into hives (they covered my entire body and looked amazingly horrifying). A nurse tended to me immediately; I was hooked into an IV, given some drugs, and observed for about two hours. As it turns out, the doctor said that if I hadn’t come in, the end result would have been my death.

I look fine this morning and don’t have much pain (though two of the stings are still really sore). I’m supposed to take a 5-day course of steroids and continue taking Benedryl until tomorrow. The doctor also wrote me a prescription for an EpiPen (synthetic adrenalin) and told me to keep one on hand at all times. Because I was stung so many times, it’s unknown whether I’ll react this way if I get stung again (by just a single bee; I doubt that I’ll ever have a pleasant reaction to being swarmed), but I suppose it’s good to be cautious…

P.S. See pictures below

Fw:

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