... by most.
I was invited to attend the birthday party of Sam Nordstrom yesterday.
He has now completed eight years breathing on his own. (He's EIGHT already???)
Sam is very intelligent, funny, handsome, and occasionally, carnal (by the Biblical definition).
This last attribute certainly does not make him any worse than many children his age and he is, no doubt, better behaved than most.
I enjoy his amazing verbal articulation.
He has a very good (as in, large) vocabulary (no doubt from his home schooling and general home environment).
We were joined by my former spouse, David and Faith Persel, and Lori McClesky, along with Zack, Rachael, Autumn, and Bradly Nordstrom. (of course, mom n dad were there, too)
We all had some cake and ice cream, did the candle-lighting-and-blowing-out thing and sang the happy birthday song.
IN OTHER NEWS
A few weeks ago during a weight workout I happened to slide my hand along one of my safety support boards in my home gym and accidentally inserted a wood sliver into the third finger of my right hand.
It hurt a bit and I wasted no time trying to get it out of me.
I pulled it out after some minor digging and went on with my workout.
I thought I got all of it.
The next day my finger was still sore.
A week later my finger was healed over but still sore.
Two weeks later my finger was still sore.
So, I was pretty certain that I had not extracted all of the offending material.
Today I became sufficiently tired of the nagging discomfort, concerned that the affected area was not going to heal in a satisfactory manner, and inspired to try to do some left-handed surgery.
So, armed with a new razor blade and a push-pin I opened up my finger, Rambo-style.
The trick was to get the cut from the razor to go deep enough (about 1/8th of an inch) to reach the root of the sliver and to get the incision right next to it.
My left hand is not my most coordinated member.
Nor is it the most trustworthy with a razor blade.
But I managed to get the cut deep enough and close enough that after some poking and scraping with the point of the pin, I was able to locate the rest of the sliver among all the blood and cellular mush, and pick it out.
I was surprised how big it was - about 3/16ths of an inch long.
No wonder my finger was sore.
To document my first surgery of the year, the following picture is presented (also taken left-handed).
The offending intruder (the darker brown wedge) can be seen lying to the right of the still-bloody incision.