Bye bye, beardie

There's a reason I don't usually grow a beard:  I just can't pull it off.  I tried a couple of times in Switzerland, but I started to hate myself, so I shaved it off.  I wasn't trying to grow one this time; I just stopped shaving before going camping, I didn't shave while camping, and I didn't start again when I got back from camping.  But today is the last day.  The beard will be coming off before church tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

In Mormon culture, there are several tricks you can use to make sure you don't get a calling that's too taxing.  Growing a beard is one of them.  Others include occasionally not wearing a white shirt on Sunday, proclaiming even tepid support for any form of gun control, stating that you're at least open to the possibility that social security is not a tool that Satan uses to enslave us all in a culture of dependency, and admitting that you watched the Superbowl live.

 

But you have to acknowledge that I've come up with the best one of all:  getting divorced.  That's my get-out-of-calling pass for life!  I'll be surprised if I ever get anything more demanding than assistant ward clerk from now on.  Given that, I don't need the beard anymore.  Heck, I might even wear a white shirt tomorrow, secure in the knowledge that I'm protected by a comforting cloak of immunity.

Lindsey on steroids

Yeah, as if Lindsey weren't interesting enough just as she is, we've now got her on steroids.  For months now, she's had these odd sores or rashes on the back of one leg.  I thought they'd go away after the winter when the air wasn't so dry, but they're still there.  A few weeks ago, I took her to the pediatrician, who kind of threw up her hands and said that maybe it was an infection.  I didn't think so, but I dutifully gave her both the oral and the topical antibiotics that the doctor prescribed.

Nothing got better.  The next step was a dermatologist, who also kind of threw up her hands and said, in essence, "Dunno.  Maybe some type of eczema, although it would be odd for someone to suddenly develop eczema at nine years of age.  Does she have a family history of eczema?"  And thus we faced a challenge that's going to come up from time to time for the kids.  It's easy for us to find out the answers to those questions for Lindsey, but it will be pretty much impossible for Tanner.  He'll just have to assume he has a family history of everything.  Maybe genetic screening will become widespread in time for him to avoid having a colonoscopy when he's thirty years old because we don't know if he has a family history of colon cancer.

Anyway, the dermatologist prescribed a pretty powerful steroid cream and said, "Now, the pharmacist is going to tell you that you absolutely shouldn't use this for more than a week, but go ahead and use it for two or three weeks.  It'll be fine."  Uh, okay.  In the meantime, I'm checking with Lindsey's birth parents to see if there's a family history of eczema.  If these steroids don't work, the next step is a biopsy, which I expect won't be particularly fun.  Fingers crossed for the steroids.

A glimpse of my future

Ever since the divorce broke, I've been aware that Lindsey and I would be spending several years as a two-person family, but I'd never really pictured it until today.  Tanner's gone to camp until Saturday, and Stace will have Lindsey while I work Thursday and Friday, but other than that, it's the two of us.  It's given me a glimpse of the future.

Do the math:  if all goes well, Tanner will leave on his mission in four years.  Lindsey will start the eighth grade.  We'll have at least those two years alone.  It's possible that Tanner will be back at home after his mission, but it's also possible that he'll go away to school or join the circus or something like that.  When Tanner leaves on his mission, Lindsey will have five more years before the end of high school.  She might even live at home for college.  The two of us are going to have a long time together!  It's a good thing I get along with her despite her psychopathic tendencies.  (I went upstairs a little while ago to make a phone call.  I told her not to burn down the house while I was upstairs.  I was only partly joking.)

Shifting gears, here's what happens over the next several days:  I'll work Thursday and Friday while Stace watches Lindsey.  Tanner gets home on Saturday.  The kids leave for Utah on Monday.  Then, I'm not sure what happens.  I've decided to give myself holidays on Tuesday and Wednesday, meaning that when I get home from work, I won't put pressure on myself to get done all of those things I'm vaguely aware that need to be done.  I'll just give myself a couple of days to waste time.  That thought actually makes me really twitchy and jittery, but I figure I need to relearn how to relax.  And then I'll waste more time on Thursday, which is the Fourth.  But Friday the fifth, I'm going to start getting stuff done.  I don't know what yet.  At least I got through two of my four back issues of The Atlantic while I was at camp.

Back early

I decided to come back Tuesday night rather than Wednesday morning.  I figure that Lindsey needs me more than Tanner.  Things have been going well between Stace and Lindsey with Stace's mom here, but I figured I could give Stace a break for a day since she'll have Lindsey by herself on Thursday and Friday while I'm at work.

Camping was fine.  I had to pull a tick out of my shin, and the mosquitoes just about ate me alive.  It was a little tricky for me to walk the long distances and watch for all the rocks and tree roots that wanted to trip me, but I managed to walk probably a couple of miles a day without any serious trouble.  I just move more slowly than most people.

I always like getting out of the city.  I'm certainly a city boy by nature, but it's nice to get away from it all once in a while.  But it will sure be nice to shower and to sleep in a real bed that doesn't require a mosquito net.  And I'm about to take one of the most-appreciated showers of my life.

Off we go

There hasn't been much to report lately.  Stace's mom has been here helping out with laundry, food, and entertaining kids.  It's been good for her and Stace to spend time together.  It's also given Stace the chance to spend more time with the kids.

Early tomorrow morning, Tanner and I will head to scout camp.  I'll be there through Wednesday, and he'll be there through Saturday.  Then the kids head to Utah a week from Monday.  What will I do with myself?  I'm sure I'll find something.  I'm bringing four past issues of The Atlantic to scout camp in the hope that I'll make some progress on my backlog.

Lindsey Wood, unappreciated genius

Lindsey had what we're calling a "moment" last night.  Those have been less common lately, but I still expect them.  They usually start with me asking her to do something she doesn't want to do.  Last night, it was her summer math homework.  She immediately threw a fit, which ended in her throwing herself on her bed and sobbing about life in general.  There are two issues that usually come up during her moments:  the divorce and the difficulty that she's had making friends at school.  Those are legitimate issues, and I talked them out with her while we hugged.

And then the conversation took an odd turn:  she was also sad that her art is underappreciated.  She feels like people don't understand her scribblings and scratchings for what they really are.  I was curious about this twist in the conversation since we hadn't ever gone this direction before.  I told her that sometimes, people don't appreciate or understand art right away.  Much to my surprise, she then started to compare herself to Van Gogh.  (I wouldn't have thought that she even knew who Van Gogh was.  Maybe it was a mistake to take her to the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam a while back.)  She's concerned that people won't start to appreciate her art until after she's dead, and she doesn't want to wait that long.  She also said that she doesn't want to cut off her ear.  I assured her that it wouldn't be necessary for her to do that.

Anyway, I wasn't aware that we had a budding but unnoticed prodigy in our midst.  I'm going to start saving her work.  If I live long enough, it should be worth some serious money.

Tanner says it's time for a comedy

Anyone remember the TV show "Cops"?  If you ever felt like your life was a wreck, all you had to do was watch an episode of that show to feel better about your own situation.

On a completely unrelated note, for reasons that remain mysterious to me, I've lately been drawn to plays about dysfunctional families.  A couple of months ago, I dragged Tanner to a production of Eugene O'Neill's "Long Day's Journey into Night," a Pulitzer-winning play about an alcoholic father and his two alcoholic sons trying to cope with their wife/mother's addiction to morphine.  Good times.  As I recall, we saw that play shortly before I knew about the divorce.  There must have been something going on in my subconscious.

Tonight, we went to see a production of "The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds," which also won a Pulitzer.  Here are some snippets from the local paper's review:  The play "offers an up-close examination of a toxic environment and its impact.  [The production] pulls no punches as it delves into the excoriating world of a family on the verge of collapse."  One of the characters "is a supreme narcissist, filled with rage and unfocused energy, bitterly dwelling on the contrast between the dreams of her youth and her current situation."

We liked it, but Tanner says he's ready for something funny next time.  Okay, okay.