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Robert at the Park
Robert and I made this video while we played at Zeman tonight. The quality is pretty poor, but hey, it’s YouTube.
Homefront News
Whew, what a busy weekend. I worked late on Friday night and again on Saturday morning. Then I reffed two soccer matches at Doane that night, followed by two youth matches at Den Hartog on Sunday morning. Six hours of running within 20 hours makes Mr. Wilson a tired boy.
During the second youth match we had a bit of a scary situation. A player was hit in the head by an errant free kick. I didn’t see it—like a good referee I was watching the “drop zone”, not the kick itself—but I heard it. I turned and jogged to the player fully expecting the usual ball + face = bloody nose equation. No big deal, right? Instead, I found an unconscious player curled into the fetal position. Crap.
Fortunately, there one of the parents on the sideline was a physician, so I put him in charge. The paramedics were called, but in the end the player walked off the field under his own, slightly disoriented, power. He didn’t leave in the ambulance, but hopefully his parents took him to the hospital to get checked out.
(Aside: Why in the world should two firetrucks and an ambulance respond to a simple blow to the head? Shouldn’t a single ambulance suffice? Can anybody in the medical community explain to me how that is not a tremendous waste of resources?)
In other 625 Elm Street news, Robbie is doing awesome these days. He still doesn’t say many actual words, but physically the kid is pretty darn impressive. He has no fear and, apparently, a relatively high tolerance for pain. That’s great for brushing aside skinned knees today, but does this mean we have a future X-Games participant on our hands? Dad can probably handle that, and mom could probably get used to it. But grandma and Aunt Brooke will have heart attacks if that happens. For now, he walks, runs, climbs, and tumbles as well as some kids twice his age. If he weren’t so shrimpy he could do even more. I’ve even almost taught him to jump. We almost have liftoff. We’ll get there.
Last night we had family photos taken. I’ll post one once we get them back.
Bored? Help Me Test a New ExpressionEngine Module
If you are feeling bored, go try out Weever, my new nested comments module for ExpressionEngine. The demo is nothing fancy, but let me know what you think. Do you think I should enable nested comments on Lincolnite, or should I stick with the flat, date-ordered comments?
When Memory Fails
I feel tremendous sympathy for the family of Ivan Havlovic, whose 10-block trip turned into a journey to Kansas. My grandfather did something very similar many years ago. By sheer coincidence, he happened to run out of gas in just the right place. The State Trooper who found my grandfather recognized his name, so he called my cousin, who was also a Trooper, and who lived nearby. Everything turned out well, but grandpa never drove again. Years of mental decline followed. It sounds like a terrible story, and to some degree it is. But my grandpa was happy as a clam holed up in his own little world. That’s worth something, right?
Anyway, good luck to Mr. Havlovic’s family. Keep a sense of humor, folks.
It’s Finally Time to Renew My License
After five long years I finally get to renew my drivers license today. I think I’m one of three people to still have the old style license. Whenever I show it to somebody they do a double-take, as though it were a fake. But it must be real, because nobody would go to the trouble of making a fake ID that bad, would they?
I don’t think I look all that different than I did five years ago. I’ll have to add 5 pounds to my weight, but that isn’t so bad. Well, as long as I don’t keep adding 5 pounds every time. That could add up after a while. On hair color I should probably be BLD instead of BLN. I don’t plan to let my hair grow back any time soon.
I’ll be an organ donor again. If any of you happen to run me over, could you be so kind as to make sure my organs end up in some nice homes? My innards are in fine shape, as far as I know.
Did I mention it’s my birthday today? I guess that was implied. Yesterday somebody suggested I could play in an “over-35” soccer league. Sorry, not quite. I haven’t even hit the three decade mark. I’ve just always looked older than I really am. It’s the dark areas under my eyes. I get that from my mom’s side of the family. Oh well, it’s not how old you look, it’s how old you act, right? In that case ... oh crap, I’m 40!
The Missus is Trying to Kill Me
I don’t think I need any more proof than this to show beyond a reasonable doubt that The Missus is trying to kill me:
Isn’t that the most evil murder weapon you have ever seen? It is composed of Ho-Hos, chocolate pudding, and Cool-Whip.
Oh, but what a way to go.
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