I have returned from the Microsoft Brain Washing… I mean… Training. Actually, the class was great. Dave (my boss) and I learned a lot and are excited for Microsoft to release the next version of the .NET development environment. (The current version produces nasty, non-complient, HTML code. Version 2005 promises to be better.) But for now, we’re back to plain old ASP.

It’s nice to be back in the office. I really do like this job.

Tammy got her hard cast off last week. She’s now in a air cast which allows her to take it off. Finally, she can take a real shower. (You have NO idea how much that means to her.) She’s still on crutches and not supposed to put weight on the foot for another couple of weeks. But being able to air it out, itch it at will, and shave makes her much happier. The most amazing thing, as you can clearly see, is that her foot and ankle are remarkablly swollen. This picture was taken as soon as she got home from the doctor. It’s gotten better since then (and she has shaved) but it’s still noticable. Also her calf is about half the size of the healthy one that’s been doing double duty.

So where are we now? She sees the doctor in two weeks at which time we expect to get the go-ahead for her to walk on the air cast and maybe put the crutches in the closet. Then another couple of weeks before she can go without the air cast. Then, potentially, some physical therapy to get everything limbered up and get the muscles restored.

I’m in Microsoft training all this week. I’m learning why Bill Gates is my friend and why I should buy all his stuff. Most importantly I’m learning that anyone who says Microsoft isn’t the best stuff ever, or worse tries to compete with Microsoft, must be the Anti-Christ.

You remember those slaves in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom that walked around chanting? Yeah, I’m one of those guys.

I’ll be back in the real world next week. Until then, buy Microsoft or die.

My nephew, Sgt. Dustin Ladd, is on his way home from Iraq. He is coming home injured, but, thank God, not as a casualty of war. He’s got a serious back problem that could not be diagnosed in the field. He’ll spend some time at Ft. Bliss in El Paso, and, most likely, head back home to the Panhandle after that.

Please continue to pray for the other 128,000 brave American men and women protecting freedom in Iraq.

Tammy has adapted well to being one-legged. She’s frustrated with life in a cast, tired of it, but learning to cope.

We’ve found the easiest way for her to get up and down the two flights of stairs to our apartment is to ride piggy-back on yours truly. She’s learned how to get in and out of the tub on her own, get herself dressed, carry paperwork around the office, and drive left-footed. I still drive her to work most mornings, just to be safe, but on rare occasions when our work schedules don’t jive, she drives herself. We’ve got a nice, safe, rounded-tip hanger that she can use to attack the occasional itch. She still can’t carry most stuff from room to room, but that’s what I’m here for.

We’ve also found a remedy for the deep bruising on her hands from using the crutches. Water Noodles, those long, brightly colored, foam pool toys are very easy to cut into short sections, and the hole in the middle perfectly fits the plastic handles on her crutches. They look kinda funny, bright yellow handles that are twice the diameter of the originals, but if they alleviate the pain, who cares. The first set lasted a week before the foam broke down and collapsed. I think we have enough noodle to last until she’s done with the aluminum torture devices.

In two more weeks she goes in to get a “velcro soft cast”. We’re hoping that she’ll be able to walk on it, but that’s all up to the doc.

I’ve been asked before where the name Light-Spark came from. I spent a great deal of time thinking about the perfect domain name and finding out that all the perfect ones are already taken.

Since my site would cover web development, graphic art, and photography, I wanted something that could apply to all three. My logic was as follows. All computer graphics and programming are, in the end, nothing more than tiny electric charges bouncing between different pieces of silicon and copper that eventually produce light in a cathode ray tube (that’s what your monitor is). Photography is capturing light to film. (Photo – light, graphy – writing.) So I ran the gamut of domain names that related to light and electricity. Light-Spark was the winner. (In fact, lightspark.com was already taken too, so I had to hyphenate.)

God bless America and God save our troops.

My nephew, Sgt. Dustin Ladd, has been serving in Iraq. Nothing glamorous, mind you, as he is in a reserve unit in the Quarter Master Corps. That means they get to do all the dirty work that Active Army doesn’t want to do. Cleaning, loading and unloading trucks, heaving boxes from here to there and back again. It’s not much to write home about. But, if it weren’t for Sgt. Ladd and tens of thousands like him, what would Iraq look like right now? Who would be out there restoring electricity and water to thousands? Who would bring ammunition and arms to the brave men and women keeping peace on the streets?

I’ve been corresponding with my Uncle Robert who served two tours in Viet Nam. He possess that wealth of wisdom that no civilian can understand; that strange and mysterious wisdom that comes from watching death swoop down on the guy standing next you and leave you standing unscathed. I read a great quote that very well explains the awkward relationship between veterans and civilians.

We are all fascinated with war and war heroes. Whenever we talk to one, we want to hear all about their experience. But the irony is that war heroes want to talk about ANYTHING BUT war. We all wish we could have been there, and they all are thankful that we were not.

Robert opened up to me a little after I sent him that quote. He didn’t tell me about his experience, but instead sent me a letter he’d written years ago. I read it with the same fascination mentioned above, but when I was done reading, I almost wished I hadn’t. The mental images I got where pretty disturbing. I can’t imagine having to live with the actual, visual memories.

You hear phrases in the media, like “putting a human face” on some tragedy. That doesn’t really capture it though. We’re so desensitized to violence on movies and TV. My mom took me to see RoboCop when I was 14 because the R rating was “only for violence”. It was cool to see all the special effects were bad guys are shot to pieces. But when someone’s son, someone’s dad, someone’s husband, someone with aspirations, dreams, big plans for life after the war; when someone like that gets shot to pieces, it’s not cool. It’s not even bearable.

I was watching Band of Brothers on the History Channel. It’s a great movie. Very well done. But it occurred to me, during one of the battle scenes that to me this is a great movie, but to someone this is the nightmare that’s been waking them up in cold sweats for 50 years.

Once that sinks in, try reading today’s news again. Then, say a prayer for Sgt. Dustin Ladd and all his comrades. And show your support for our troops.

I was just sitting down to enjoy some time on Ultima Online (If you don’t know what that is, let’s just say it’s a computer game.) after helping Tammy out of the bath. Then comes the call to arms that causes husbands across the world to sigh and roll their eyes. “Honey! Spider!”

I went to the bedroom where Tammy was trying to get into her night clothes while balancing on crutches. She pointed out a small 8-legger on the window sill. Eh. The window sill. No biggie. Just leave it be. There’s enough death in the world.

“But it’ll get in the bed.”

*Incredulous stare* “Why would it get into our bed?”

“Because it’s so cumfy?”

Now, I don’t care who yeh are, that thar’s funny.

For those of you who are concerned about the well-being of the people who live in my house (Thank you. It is appreciated.) here is the long version of “How’s Tammy Doing?”

Tammy’s ankle has been weak since she turned it in the driveway on my folk’s ranch in La Grange. A couple of weeks ago, she turned it again, bad. She fell down in the apartment parking lot and called me from her cell phone. I was in my skivvies, enjoying my raisin bran in our 3rd floor apartment when I received this classic “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” phone call. Not the best way to start your day.

Tammy’s a real tough cookie. She shook it off and went to work. It was still tender and swollen a couple days later and friends and family convinced her to see a doctor. Dr. Kwong (who is a real miracle worker in my book) looked at the x-rays and said, “I know what’s wrong with your ankle. It’s broken.” Whaa? Huh? That can’t be right, she’s been walking on it. Well, I guess her cookie is tougher than we thought.

The tip of her fibula (the smaller of the two shin bones) had broken off in three fragments right were all these tendons with five syllable names attach and hold your ankle together. Three words: Sur Gur Eee. When he had Tammy on the O.R. table, Dr. Kwong was able to fold her ankle over. Basically there was nothing but soft tissue and pain holding it straight while she walked on it. But, the good doctor did his thing and made it “boo-boo all gone”.

Now comes the fun part. Tammy has a hard cast on her right foot for the next 6 weeks or so. She just started a new job that’s 30 minutes to an hour away depending on traffic and now she can’t drive. Remember me mentioning the 3rd floor apartment? Yeah. That sucks too.

She’s feeling alright, not much pain, but cabin fever is something she doesn’t deal with well. She only missed two days of work and is back to a full schedule working from 7 to 4. But since she can’t drive, I have to get up with her at 5. (Yes, it’s true, though I always doubted it myself. The clock in my bedroom really does have a 5 AM on it.)

From there the morning goes something like this:

• Tammy washes her hair in the kitchen sink while I try to convince my body that I AM serious and it really DOES have to get out of bed.
• Tammy sits on the toilet with her cast propped up on her trumpet case and does her hair and make-up.
• I fix breakfast and lunch for both of us and run back and forth getting stuff she can’t reach or left in the other room.
• Tammy struggles to find something to wear that fits over the cast and doesn’t need ironed. (A real challenge since the man of the house doesn’t keep up with the laundry like he should.)
• I shower, etc.
• By 6:20 I’m carrying all our stuff down to the car while she slowly and carefully hippity-hops down two flights of stairs.
• She reads a Psalm or two while I try to remember I’m a Christian driving on a highway packed with heathens and morons.
• I carry her backpack turned purse, work papers, and morning beverage of choice in to her desk while she plods down the hall on her crutches.
• Then I get back on the highway and go to work.

I’m trying really hard not to be cranky, but I know that the schedule change causes me to do and say things that are much meaner than should be done or said. Tammy’s great though. She showers me with appreciation and love even when I’m a bear (not the soft cuddly kind)

So, all in all, we’re doing good. Tammy’s already counting the days til she can take a real shower (instead of sitting in the tub with one leg hanging out) and get back to rock climbing on a regular basis.

And that’s all I have to say about that.