Time Eye-Eye-Eym Is On My Side

Yes it is.

Or rather, not so much.

Today was a good day.  I woke up early, went for a little solo breakfast (I do need my alone time), came back, visited friends in Connecticut.  The kids were good, the company was good, Mrs. LNU and I didn’t fight at all.  It was all good.  Do you see any time in there to blog?

Work, you say?  I should blog at work?  Well, I’m there at about 8am, and I’m there until about 8pm, and I’ve got about 16,000 things to do, and I’m busy simply all the time.  Do you see any time there to blog?

The only time I can blog is late at night, because Mrs. LNU is one of those people who don’t get blogging.  The biggest fight we’ve had is when I went out and met some bloggers.

And it’s not like I don’t have stuff to blog about.  I could write about sticking my foot in my mouth with VJ.  I could write about being unhappy in a certain area of my life.  I could write about some great stuff.  But when?  That’s the question.  I could write about all the truly horrible TV I’ve been watching because, with the writers’ strike, there aren’t as many good shows on.  So I’m reduced to Farscape, and Stargate SG1, and Gossip Girl.

OK, I admit it, I like Gossip Girl.  I’m actually upset because they just had the season ender, with Dan breaking up with Serena (as if!).  And then what was that dance about, “I don’t want to let you go.”  Then they were broken up again.  And Chuck!  You dog!  

Seriously, I’ve been watching some truly bad television.  Torchwood.  Why is it that the British can do so many things so right, but can’t do beer, and can’t do television.  Maybe it’s because dry humor doesn’t play on the tube?  I don’t know, I just know that when they start, they produce things like Torchwood.  If you don’t know about it, don’t ask because you really don’t want to know.

My…wife just woke up and told me to go to sleep.  Always do what the wife says.

Yet Another Reason to Visit Chicago

Oreos!

A Slow News Day

A Slow News Day

Originally uploaded by Hank LNU

In the Wall Street Journal no less. I didn’t realize vegetables were
such an extreme sport.

Relief

It’s comforting when the Chief of Pediatric Neurology at a major hospital in NYC says, “there’s nothing wrong with your child.”  The negative CAT scan yesterday was good.

But this was relief.

Evidently, the symptoms my son has, even though it’s extremely unusual for a 2-year-old to have these symptoms, are not part of a larger problem.  If there were a real problem, says the doctor, it would present in other areas.  But my son is evidently absolutely where he should be neurologically, which means that there aren’t any major malfunctions anywhere.  The doctor says that he’s not sure why my son has the symptoms, but as they’re isolated, they’ll likely just go away on their own.

I once heard someone say that having children is like living with a gun to your head.  Any second—and totally not in your control—your life can be over.  That idea is absolutely true.  This was frankly scarier than either of the times this kid was in the PICU (pediatric intensive care unit) when he was a baby.  This was sinister: something wrong with his brain.  I can’t even think about it.

And you know what?  I don’t have to think about it any more.

I think I’ll be able to sleep for the first time in two weeks tonight. 

So why am I still up?  Good night, all.  And thanks for the well-wishes.

More on the Awfulness

Well, no news is good news. 

CAT scan was negative.  We have our appointment with the neurologist tomorrow.

Probably Needed To Rethink

I just read of a marriage proposal.  Two prosecutors.  One gets a summons from a judge, and when she gets to the courtroom, her beloved is there, and when asked why he was there, he says:

“I’m guilty of being madly in love with you,” he replied.

He bent down on one knee and blurted: “Sentence me to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Oops.  “Sentence me to spend the rest of my life with you.”  Wow.  That’s just not the thing to say to your girlfriend.  Even if it was a marriage proposal.

I bet you could hear the crickets.  The article just says, “silence ensued.”  I just bet silence ensued.  And I bet it was that kind of massively oppressive silence that calls for a *crickets* mood indicator.

Boy, does he have a lot to learn about being a husband.

Clue number 1: don’t tell your love that you feel like living with her is a jail sentence.

Tomorrow we’ll move on to more advanced stuff like, “no, what she’s wearing doesn’t make her look fat.”

Two Words

Two words you never want to hear together:

Pediatric Neurologist.

More later.