Vacations early and vacations late

I write from the large, quiet beach house where 21 family members have been enjoying one another, and the various delights of vacation.  I write from the solitude of the large dining room table which, this morning, was full of adults and children, from six to eighty, basking in the joy of breakfast, the smell of bacon and eggs, the delight of one another, the impending pleasures of a new day’s adventures.

Vacations come in two flavors, I see today. Early vacations in Spring are full of ‘what if,’ and ‘what shall we do,’ as well as ‘how wonderful to be together!’  They are powered by the kids’ freedom from the confines of schedules; they are super-charged by the joy parents have in being liberated from the homework and activities of their young.  Early vacations are made more delightful because not everyone is free yet, the traffic isn’t gridlocked and because (even on Southern coasts), the evenings are breezy and cool and the bed is chilly not from air-conditioning but from nature.

Late vacations are also wonderful.  All time together, laughing, floating in the pool, kickign the soccer ball on the beach, all of it is a sacrament of love.  But this morning, lying in bed, I watched through the window as heavy rain rolled over the side of our rental house; it was a gray dawn, with high dark clouds, and reminded me that Summer is not half over, but sometimes still hints at Autumn.  That Summer is a roller-coaster that runs faster and faster, and its cars are driven ever faster by the return of school, the heat of the season and by the advancing ages of the children we try so hard to keep young and nearby.

This is a late vacation; and an odd one.  Several of two of our children and one of their cousins cannot be here.  One is working, one is looking for an apartment, one is traveling in Ireland.  One will leave for college in a few weeks. They are doing what they should; in the Spring of their lives, in their twenties, life is busy.  But their absence punctuates the reality that all vacations, like every single year, change.  In a sunny homage to Heraclitus, ‘you cannot step onto the same beach twice,’ as it were.  Kids grow up, adults grow old and things move on to jobs and school; as they have and as they should.  The alternatives are for our children to be stunted forever like pets, or to die.  Better they should miss vacation.

The house is quiet, except for the dryer and the occasional young person scrounging for food and saying, ‘good night Papa!’ Or, ‘good night Uncle Ed!’  They make me smile, They inspire me.  And every year, we return to do so many of the same old things, to hold the form and shape of vacation even as the substance (mostly the children) move in and out.  And thus there is miniature golf, and bike rides; pizza night and games; throwing football and Frisbee on the beach.  Even having overpriced ice-cream too late and after too much food.

These are scaffolds that remind us of the past, and on which the young will perhaps build their own future times, or (when the times are right) bring their own loves back into our rickety traditions to enliven them.

This late vacation is drawing to a close, and I will miss it.  But we have a deep trove of memories, all of us, and we have build not only the frame but the solid foundation of love upon which families, this family, can stand for generations to come.

Tomorrow it will be hot and muggy.  But we will run on the beach with reckless, joyous abandon.

Nothing can take that from us as we drain the last drop of joy from this pitcher full of love and tradition.

 

Introducing Social Orbit

This is a post by the good folks at Social Orbit, an excellent new social media application. Which, by the way, has been giving away signed copies of my book ‘Life in Emergistan.’  I encourage you to check it out and sign up. There’s a banner add over to the side that will take you directly to their site to learn more.

Medicine is changing.  A lot of the comradery and connection with our physician peers has been eroded because physicians are all so busy worrying about CPOE, EMR, TJC, metrics, billing, pop-up alerts, patient satisfaction surveys…the list goes on and on.  Orbit was founded to create a community where doctors can connect with each other and reconnect with what they love about medicine.  Greg Hadden, MD FACEP (co-founder of Orbit) notes, “There is an overwhelming feeling in medicine that the physician is turning in to just another cog in the medical machine.  The providers are the heart of medicine and the center of healthcare delivery. While every other company and organization is focused on trying to make medicine more efficient, they are forgetting the individuals in healthcare that actually make it all work.” Orbit wants to focus there.

 Orbit is a unique product unlike anything else out there.  By putting together a resource that has things that doctors value and by creating a fun environment of collaboration, Orbit hopes to provide something that doctors want to contribute to and engage in. The ultimate goal is to see all physicians sharing, collaborating, and supporting each other.  The app also wants to be a one-stop-shop for doctors. Orbit can keep them up-to-date with breaking medical news, help them plan their CME travel, help explore job opportunities, do HIPAA compliant chat, and learn…all while winning some really awesome prizes that focus on helping them recharge their emotional batteries.

 The future of Orbit is bright and the developers have a lot of grand plans for the app!  “In order to get there, we need doctors to give us a shot.”  More Orbiters means a bigger community, more collaboration, more sponsorship, bigger prizes, more frequent prizes, etc.  There is incredible potential with this and the developers have a lot of fun stuff they are constantly working on adding and integrating.  In addition, Orbit has big plans for expansion into other specialties in 2017 with the ultimate goal of developing additional platforms for APPs, RNs, EMS, and international healthcare providers. However, it’s important to the developers that the rollout is measured and strategic.  Says Hadden; “We need to be confident that when we get to that stage we are still able to serve our members by protecting the integrity and privacy of the group. US-based physicians are the only group that our app currently is able to verify and validate.  We want to ensure that we are not letting in attorneys, MBA/MHA hospital administrators, recruiters, etc.  Also, I think there are a lot of physicians that want to connect in a physician-only platform.  As we build out the app, our users will be able to customize the content they see and with whom they interact.  As an example, as we progress to include APPs, if a doctor wanted to participate in a physician/APP community then they would be able to do so.  On the flip side, if an APP only wanted to connect with other APPs, then they could customize their account to exclude physicians as well.”

 ACEP16 marked Orbit’s emergence out of beta testing and its introduction to a larger audience.  The Orbit booth at ACEP16 was packed the majority of the time with most of those people coming up to find out what the tagline, “Seriously Fun Medicine”, was all about.  Hadden explains, “In Orbit, medicine is a serious business…but it can also be fun!

 

www.socialorbit.com

Apple Store link: https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/orbit-medicine/id1120695349?mt=8

A Happy Family and God’s Beautiful, Abominable Creatures

Call me Dr. Doolittle…

Once upon a time, a loving couple moved from the cold, bleak land of Indiana to South Carolina and bought a house in the woods. It was a lovely first home, and they enjoyed all their time in the house. While they were there, they learned about the beauty of nature; the birds, the raccoons, the deer; the ice storms that shattered trees, the flash floods, the brush fires, the stray dogs trapped in the creek, the giant hornets nests in the woods. It was beautiful all around. Nature is awesome!

Then, after they had brought four amazing children into the world, they said to one another: ‘What the heck! Let’s move further into the wilderness!’ And they had someone build them a house of logs, high on a hill near the state forest. While it was being built, they discovered rattlesnakes. Which are natures wonderful creatures. And soon after it was built and they moved in, they learned about wild hogs. Just one more amazing thing in the yard.

In time, the family learned all about the veritable Noah’s Ark that their home had become. Having grown up without scorpions (how poor life was!), the family learned to shake out shoes and watch where they stepped. Inside the house as well as outside. Gradually, centipedes stopped in. ‘Hello human family, we’re God’s creatures too! And we sting like everything else! Welcome!’ By now the family was not only amazed but mildly annoyed. They learned the centipedes are much harder to kill than scorpions. They felt sad doing it. The first time.

A charming family of giant rats lived under the porch. Such a cute family! And they set the dogs on them, who went to work with canine glee. The dogs later made peace with most of the forest creatures and started to completely ignore them.

One magnificent, exciting year, the family saw a cute little lady-bug (or what they thought was a lady-bug) in the kitchen. And the next day they woke to find, oh, about ten-bajillion of them hanging out all around the house and in the house and in their food and bathroom and on the windows and drapes. Some in the family, it turns out, were allergic to them and wheezed and developed rashes. But oh they were so cute. The family sprayed a chemical around the doors and windows that, years later, still seems to kill the creatures and probably cause cancer.

The house in summer was all abuzz with wonderful things. Carpenter bees slowly, with great dedication, began to bore holes all over the wooden beams of the big log house. The children made great sport of swatting carpenter bees with badminton rackets. It didn’t really help, but a dead bug is, well, you know. Eventually it is believed that the house, like a great building of brittle Swiss cheese, will collapse and kill everyone. Except the bugs, that is! Isn’t that wonderful? Nature…who knew?

Later, various wasps began to engineer amazing nests on the log house; which then developed into entire wasp civilizations. The wasps loved the house, and the family, so much that sometimes they went to bed with them and took showers with them! Stinging is like hugging to wasps. Except it really isn’t. The people engaged in campaigns to kill all the wasps, and enrich pesticide companies. The wasps are silly and always come back. The wasps live in the attic above the bedrooms too. We’re all a family.

Then stink-bugs came, and what a joy! They sing their happy, buzzing sounds all day and night, inside and out, and land in cooking food and brewing tea and onto the hair of unhappy females in the house. And when smushed, they smell terrible! What fascinating little nightmares. The family was told that stinkbugs prey on ladybugs. Isn’t that just a kick in the pants?

Lately, above the bedrooms, there have been noises. Adorable, furry bats have appeared in the big log house on the hill. Flying around inside the house, dropping onto the table. What incredible creatures! They are, apparently, rooming with flying squirrels. Will either of them eat the stink bugs?

The family still loves nature. Maybe, part of loving God’s critters is being in a constant struggle with them. At least then you learn about them in person, not from some sterile display or chapter in a book.

Maybe, just maybe, an apartment in the city would be nice sometimes. Because the creatures, so far, are winning.

Sports Impairment and My Southern Man-Card

 

This is my column in today’s Herald-Dispatch.  My hometown newspaper in Huntington, WV!

http://www.herald-dispatch.com/opinion/edwin-leap-don-t-worry-you-won-t-lose-your/article_3706dd19-3472-520d-856d-09e3580d3886.html

It’s a terrible confession to make as a Southern male, but here it goes. I don’t care a lick about sports; not leagues, not high school, not college not pro. It feels liberating to say so. I figured I might as well be honest about it, because I’m forever confronting the reality of my sports-impairment in various and sundry ways.
One way my dilemma arises is I’m standing in the check-out line at a store, wearing my WVU t-shirt when another customer asks what I think of the Mountaineer’s chances this year. I usually make some sort of generally non-committal remark about how ‘I sure HOPE they do better this year!’ Which means that at some point in the distant future, if they manage to win a championship, I’ll have to be more careful and say ‘well, if LAST year was any indication this should be a good one!’ I try not to make eye-contact. It’s too uncomfortable.
What I usually want to explain, but never bother, is that I wear the shirt because I grew up and went to school there. And it was awesome and I have wonderful memories (same reason I wear my Marshall shirt). But it’s hard to stop a die-hard sports fan and say, ‘well, the truth is I really didn’t have time for sports because I was studying a great deal, but I’m proud I graduated!’ That makes people go to the next checkout line and shake their heads.
I’ve noticed the same thing at church. I remember finding myself in deacon’s meetings with little to contribute to the discussion at zero dark thirty Sunday morning. As everyone made the rounds of the previous day’s games, it was ‘Ed, Marshall did well yesterday didn’t they!’ ‘Sure did…(I guess).’ I put my head down, ate my biscuits and gravy and (since I live in South Carolina) I just let the orange or garnet wave pass over.


I’m not trying to be a snob, please understand. In my childhood I just wasn’t formally taught anything about athletics. Admittedly, my dad built a basketball court for me in the back yard. All the neighborhood kids and I had a great time there at all hours of the day and evening. But the rules were not exactly formally enforced. It was as much social time as athleticism. I also learned a little about football in the front yard. Specifically, I learned that ‘touch’ can be widely interpreted. I realized that lying on my back gasping for air one day, looking up at the fading blue sky.
I remember once around sixth or seventh grade that I went to the mother of one of my more athletically inclined friends and asked about joining a basketball league. She was kind, in a ‘bless your heart’ sort of way, and said we might be able to cram on the rules but it wasn’t looking good. Age 12 and I was already too old to start. I got the message and moved on without looking back.
Instead I filled my days with walks in the woods, turning over rocks in the creek for crawdads, seining for minnows, riding horses with my grandfather, shooting arrows into bales of straw, carrying my BB gun everywhere, shooting bigger guns whenever the opportunity afforded itself and generally acting like a joyous junior barbarian. Those became my preferred activities, until I discovered martial arts, then girlfriend, in high school.
My wife Jan grew up with brothers playing football. If I don’t understand a game that’s on, I just ask her and she guides me through. Two of my children attend Clemson University, and the other two are also fans, which is great. But they didn’t get it from me. Just recently they were all talking about the season and daughter Elysa said, with surprise, ‘why look at us, talking about sports like a normal family!’
I have great respect for all those devoted to their teams, who can quote stats like chapter and verse of scripture. May your team get all of the touchdowns, field-goals, runs and everything else it needs. But to all those who never got it, who never fell in love with sports, it’s alright. You aren’t alone.
Do your thing. You aren’t less of a Southerner or less of a man. And when the discussion turns to yesterday’s contest, learn to smile, nod and just say this: ‘that was some game!’

MonstERs Aren’t so Scary!

MonstERs Aren’t so Scary!
It’s Halloween Emergencies
beneath the cloudy skies,
And every beastie that we see
Is worried it might die.

But ghosts and ghouls that terrify
Are actually big chickens,
They moan and wail and loudly cry
and whine to beat the Dickens.

Wolf-man fears the rabies
from his canine inclinations;
he mauled some little ladies
but he wants a vaccination.

Mummy chased an aged docent,
Now he’s out of breath.
Usually he won’t relent
Until his victim’s gruesome death.

Vampires dapper count their losses,
suffering from many things;
garlic, wooden stakes and crosses,
wailing ‘holy water stings!’

A witch’s coven comes in haste
in fear of deadly toxins;
their brew had such an awful taste
like someone put a pox upon ‘em!

Hulking monster Frankenstein
is quite the sobbing wreck;
while terrorizing villagers
the bolts fell off his neck.

And skeletons of every size,
have bones of all sorts broken;
the orthopedist shakes his head
since all the breaks are open!

By morning all have slunk away,
the blood and fur swept up.
The staff can see the light of day
and cling to empty coffee cups.
Doctors, nurses, medics all
and seasoned secretaries
know this happens every fall;
to them the beasts ain’t scary.

Compared with all the normal nights,
the mayhem and the pains,
the wrecks and strokes and hateful fights
that leave the staff all drained,

The monstrous band of Halloween
does not cause much alarm;
It’s mortals and their earthly woes
that suffer all the harm!

EPIC Go-Live Day! And a prayer for wisdom…

Some dear friends of mine, at Busy Community Hospital, are having a momentous day.  Today is the ‘Go-Live’ for their brand new, shiny EPIC EMR.

For those of you outside the hallowed, creaky halls of medicine, EPIC is one of the most widely used electronic medical records systems in America.  It’s big, it’s expensive, it captures lots of data, integrates ER’s, hospitals, clinics, labs and everything else.  (Probably your cat’s shot records too.)

EPIC is also a company highly connected to the current administration; big donors to the President.  FYI.

The problem isn’t what you get out of it, it’s the cumbersome way you have to put it in.  In my opinion, for what that’s worth, EPIC is not intuitive. It takes a long time to learn to use it well.  I have never used it in a situation where it could be fully customized, but I’m told that makes it easier.  And admittedly, some docs and nurses truly love EPIC and are at peace with it.  I suspect they have implanted brain chips or have undergone some brain-washing.

https://giphy.com/gifs/zoolander-ac38RqTgQXYAM

Typically EPIC instruction occurs over weeks, as it has for my friends.  The first time I used it was in a busy urgent care, which was part of a large medical system.  And I learned it over one hour. On the Go-Live day.  So I’m sympathetic.

Thus, I have a prayer for those in the belly of the beast right now:

A Go-Live Prayer for those with new EMR systems.

Lord, maker of electrons and human brains, help us as we use this computer system, which You, Sovereign over the Universe, clearly saw coming and didn’t stop.

Thank you that suffering draws us to you.

Thank you for jobs, even on bad days.

Forgive us for the unnecessarily profane things we have said, or will say, about this process.

As we go forward, we implore you:

Let our tech support fly to us on wings of eagles and know what to do.

May our passwords and logons be up to date.

Protect us from the dreaded ‘Ticket’ submitted to help us.

May our data be saved, not lost.

Let the things we order be the things we have.

Shield us from power loss, power surge, virus and idiots tinkering with the system.

Give our patients patience to understand why everything takes three hours longer.

And may our prescriptions actually go to the pharmacy.

Keep us from rage and tirades.

Protect the screens from our angry fists.

May everyone go home no more than two or three hours late.

And keep our patients, and sanity, intact.

Great physician, great programmer, heal our computers.

Amen

 

 

 

 

 

 

Make Time For Romance Every Day

Happy Valentine’s Day!

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/02/13/make-time-romance-every-day/80177498/

It Doesn’t Have to be Valentine’s Day to Date Your Spouse.

My wife and I have had some wonderful Valentine’s Days in the past. I remember the first time I tried to cook for her. A friend let me borrow her apartment. I cooked steaks and had the whole romantic thing set up for Jan, with flowers and all.

When I was in residency, our hospital had a yearly February ‘Sweetheart’s Ball,’ and all of the residents would be excused from work while the faculty took over our roles in the hospital. I’ll never forget how lovely my wife looked in her black party-dress, dark curly hair down around her bare shoulders. Wow. Anyway, back to the point. We have had a lot of delightful romantic times on and around February 14. But as the Day is now upon us, I’d like to offer some advice to the young, and even old, couples out there.

First of all, romance may seem spontaneous but it requires attention and effort. Sure, there are moments of wonderful emotion that sneak up on us. But if we don’t take time with our spouses, romance can be a tough sell. For instance, men, if you ignore your honey for the entire football or deer season, a bouquet of roses at the last minute will earn you a sweet, sarcastic smile and not a lot else.

Likewise, for the ladies, a man won’t feel romantic if he isn’t appreciated throughout the year. If he feels berated and belittled, the last thing on his mind will be sweeping you off your feet or twirling you around the dance floor.

And to both men and women, make an effort! No, our love mustn’t be predicated on appearances. But for heaven’s sake, try to dress up for special times together! It’s a sign of respect. And no, guys, it doesn’t mean your nice John Deer hat. It means leave it at the house. Ladies, yes, it means perfume and lipstick and that dress you know he likes to see you wear. I may be a Neanderthal, but it’s just how things work for most of the men and women in the world.

Second, build on the basics. What I mean is, date one another! I don’t care how long you’ve been together, married or not. Schedule, intentionally and regularly, date nights or date days. This isn’t complicated. It’s about time talking, listening (attention men) and holding hands. Some of our absolutely best dates have involved a quick snack of appetizers and a much needed trip to the grocery store. Freezer section flirting is the best!

I don’t know how many times we’ve wandered the romantic aisles of Lowe’s, looking at things we’d like to have in the house someday, or talking about repairs we need to make. Heck, my Jan loves yard work and a trip through the riding mowers is as good as a walk through the jewelry store. (Take that boys!)

Third, grow and stay active together. Find a hobby or activity you love, or you can agree on, and make it a date. It may be biking or fishing, taking an art class or volunteering for the church or a service organization. It might be fixing up the house or cleaning the attic. But do it together and talk. A lot. Couples thrive on communication, so never forget that. We’ve found, over the years, that movies may be fun but that afterward, we didn’t have any time to talk. Couples need to decompress, process, discuss and dream. They need to talk about what the kids are doing, and on some dates, need to make a vow not to talk about the kids at all, but only one another.

These days Jan and I have ‘workout dates.’ We go to the gym, work hard to stay fit (for ourselves and one another), then get lunch afterward. Believe it or not, if you eat properly, it isn’t as silly as it sounds. Ice cream and cake after workouts aren’t the same, by the way. (OK, maybe every fifth or sixth.)

It’s a time of red-roses and chocolate candy, dinners by candle and champagne; but mostly in theory. For much of the world, Valentine’s Day will be an exhausted kiss after the children are bathed and in bed, or holding hands during night-time prayers.

Fortunately, romantic dates come in many varieties all through the year. Just be sure that however you do it, you do it with the singular goal of loving your spouse better with every passing day.

Which Veteran’s Are We Celebrating, exactly?

IMG_2009 (1)

I found this advertisement recently.  It was a very kind attempt to honor veterans by giving them free haircuts.  I have intentionally blacked the name and address of the salon.  I mean no ill will.  It’s just an observation.  However, there’s a problem with this flier. It jumped out at me instantly.  Maybe because I played with lots of toy soldiers as a child.  Perhaps because I’ve watched a large number of war movies.

Or it could simply be because I am passionate about history.

What’s the problem?  I mean, someone made a very colorful hand-bill and then found the word soldier, or veteran or something like that and pasted the image as homage.

Many of you have already figured it out.

It appears to be a drawing of Russian Red Army soldier.  Not an American soldier.

Not that Russians or Commies don’t have veterans that they honor.  That’s their business.  But here, an image of an American veteran, past or present, might have been a wee bit more appropriate.

It’s little things like this that remind me that history matters and that all too many Americans don’t really pay attention to it.

Happy Veteran’s Day, ladies and gentlemen!  Thank you for standing for freedom.

 

Summer Wants You Dead! My column in today’s Greenville News.

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2015/08/08/ed-leap-careful-summer-wants-dead/31298333/

Enough of the tedium of politics and culture! Let’s focus on the real enemy. Which in the South is clearly Summer. I was working in a Southern ER recently, in a location which is beautiful, full of Northerners, and which shall remain unnamed. We’ll call it ‘Vacation Memorial Hospital.’ Lying before me was a charming lady of some 80 years, who had fainted.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Well, my husband and I decided to ride bikes to lunch. It’s such a pretty day and all. And after about three miles I just felt funny and when I sat on a bench I passed out.’

(Relevant fact for the reader: The heat index was 115 that day.)

‘Oh my! It’s very hot outside. Where are you from?’

‘We’re here from Chicago.’

‘Do you ride bikes at home?’

Laughing, says ‘Oh no, only when we’re here!’

So, living in a city which feels nearly Arctic most of the year, my patient comes to South Town and rides a bike three miles in heat that makes the hardiest Southerner cling to the AC unit with something akin to worship. But this was certainly not the only misguided person I saw who did something similar. There were variations of course: ‘I drank a 12 pack and went to the beach for a few hours.’ Or, ‘I paddle-boarded for 8 hours against the tide, starting at noon.’ You get the picture.

Please excuse my bluntness and paranoia, but the fact that non-Southerns don’t realize about our summers is this: nature wants to kill you. Heat and humidity are its favorite weapons, and dehydration and heat stroke it’s favored techniques. (It’s the opposite of life in the far North, where nature wants to terminate you by turning you into a solid block of ice.)

However, as I realized long ago, it’s more than the heat. Summer in the South has many weapons at its disposal. For instance, it has water. More specifically, water and alcohol, the combination of which makes a fine cocktail but a very poor form of recreation. Summer doesn’t mind drowning the unwary.

Summer also employs creatures. I spend a large part of my summer finding, and destroying, the dozens of wasp nests that inhabit our property in the summer, and which make every expedition outside an exercise in looking for ‘booby traps.’ (I’m not vindictive; one of my sons is dangerously allergic.) There’s a nest on every door frame, in every shed, in the ground over which we mow, under the diving board, in the old can in the woods. Ditto for spider webs; a giant black widow was living happily under my wife’s lawn chair last week.

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention venomous snakes. Copperheads have been particularly busy over the last couple of summers, causing painful bites and no doubt receiving financial kickbacks from the makers of $2000 per vial antivenin. Apparently, they have also been communicating with the shark population on the Carolina coast to start some form of horrible insurrection worthy of a B movie.

However, perhaps the most insidious technique of summer is the use of the lawn. The lawn compels us to expose ourselves to the intense sun, to stinging insects and to power equipment. Now, I’m pretty careful about blades turned by engines. But if I ever have a heart attack, odds are it will happen while I’m trying to start the 2-cycle engine of a weed-eater, already partly destroyed by ethanol-containing gasoline. Furthermore, it’s not only a danger to my earthly body. The anger and profanity that boil up while working with the weed-eater, or reprobate mower, are surely enough to make a Baptist into a backslider.

I know, this sounds crazy, but I’m ready for Autumn. And especially for that first freeze when stinging and biting things take a break, when the lawn grows more slowly and when a bike ride needn’t be accompanied by a 9-11 call.

I have a theory about why Southerners make up such a large proportion of our Armed Forces. It’s because of summer. As Southern children we learn that nature, for all it’s wonders, has it in for us. And we spend our time fighting and enduring temperatures, creatures, Kudzu, Poison Ivy and every other nefarious thing thrown our way. We learn caution, appropriate distrust and how to fight dirty. These are lessons that our visitors would do well to understand. Because like it or not, Summer wants you dead.

Now go and enjoy your bike ride!

 

Thanksgiving: mission accomplished. Check!

Thanksgiving week checklist:

Time spent with wife and four amazing children.  Check.

Fed 28 family members and friends.  Check.

Gave injured dog his medicine; sometimes, when he agreed and wasn’t a big baby.  Check.

Played X-Box…with wife and children. Check.

Ate more than reasonable, but maintained weight.  Check.

Standard Southern relaxation of shooting in backyard.  Grass littered with shell casings.  Now ammo poor.  Check.

Cousin sleepover with kids. Check.

Watched Elf.  Check.

Put up Christmas tree and decorations, according to wife’s excellent aesthetic sense.  Check.

Ate various incarnations of turkey and dressing, including chili.  Check.

Took out trash.  Check.

Long hike today, now exhausted. Check.

Best of all, thankful to God above for his grace and mercies.

Check, check, check.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

Edwin

 

Image Credit