Saturday, August 18, 2007

Public Service Announcement

Who knows what a hammer, a tape measure, and a football have in common? They are all dangerous. I'm not very excited for school to start on Monday, as I have enjoyed being slothful all summer long. It's not that I don't enjoy my schooling in dentistry. It's my abilities that I question. Which brings us to the three aforementioned objects. Namely the hammer, the tape measure, and the football. I have managed over the summer to injure my fingers with all of these objects. I wish I could say that each instance was the fault of another, but my own lack of coordination is to blame. A trait that is to be desired in a dentist.
First the hammer. Whilst assisting a fellow in the ward with the roofing of his house I managed to smash my thumb with a hammer. This was not the classic smash on the fingernail, resulting in a sore thumb and possibly the loss of a fingernail. I managed to miss the protective fingernail completely and hit just the side of my thumb, which proceeded to pop like a tomato and bleed profusely.
The second injury came whilst helping Brother Casper with his tree house. He was up in the tree working and I was cutting boards and tossing them up to him. The fine tape measure that we were working with decided it would no longer retract in to the casing. He needed the tape so I figured, "Hey, I'm a grown boy, I bet I can toss this the whole 8.5 feet into the air and he can catch it." The tape had about 5 feet of it that wouldn't go back inside, so I threw it overhand. Bad idea. Now, the important thing is that the tape measure reached its target. The unfortunate thing is that all 5 feet or so of exposed metal managed to slide through the skin and flesh of the index finger of my right hand.
The last, and most recent injury is probably the most pitiful. I would like to say that I got jumped by a gang of thugs and they stomped on my hand after beating me, or that I broke my finger on one of their faces or something of that sort. No, I got beat up by a football. I tried to catch the ball and thought that I maybe if I stuck the middle finger of my right hand directly in the path of the ball (as if I were pointing right at it), I might be able to catch it. Apparently that's not the way it is done. I think the end of my finger may have been broken, but as my father's son I couldn't justify going to the doctor so I went home and put some frozen peas on it and taped it to the finger next door.
Hopefully with three more years of dental school I can manage to retain all of my digits. For those of you impressed with my coordination and skill with my hands I'm taking applications for prospective future patients.

Wednesday, August 1, 2007


Have you seen these kids?

So I walk out into my backyard a couple of weeks ago and find that there are rocks all over the deck and yard. I said to myself, "self, where the hell did these rocks come from?" Hank (he's the old man from next door and a stud) came over with a couple of his own and was up in arms about how he was going collect all the rocks and call the mounties (I think that means police). I don't know what ever happened with that. Anyway, a few weeks later Erica hears something smack the side of the house, runs outside, screams at the kids she sees over the fence, runs back up the stairs and snaps this photograph of the guilty parties. My purpose in posting this today is that somebody will randomly come across this picture and recognize the culprits so that justice will be served.
I realize that it was rocks, not dumps, that they were throwing. But I like the quote.

My Very Own Blog!

My lovely wife and I have a blog dedicated to our family and our adventures. She handles most of the posting and does a fine job of it. Rather than clutter her efforts with my cynical childish thoughts, I thought I would make my own blog where I can complain, whine, and rant (the "Blog Stalking" post is a perfect example) without tarnishing her good name.