"Cordelia" ... No, really... It says Cordelia!

Two days ago, I was spending some much-needed quality time with my princess.  She had placed a couple of magnetic letters on her easel (gift from Uncle Chad and Aunt Patti last Christmas), and wanted me to help her write them on the marker board.

Because the easel is sized for a child, because I'm not a child,  because my knees don't make the best feet, and because the spoiled little angel also received a Crayola writing desk (complete with a marker-board top) from her daddy for Christmas last year, I was able to convince her to come practice on the table.

After a few attempts at the two letters she brought over with her (S and T), Tammy and I were able to convince her to try some other letters, and even to write her name.

With just a little coaching: "C looks like this..." and "D looks like a long up-and-down line with an O touching it." and "an L is just a long line that goes up and down." etc.

In short order we had this:

Oh... one more thing.  The last blog, about the parade, I forgot to mention:  We were on TV.  Apparently we were either perfectly placed, or the cameras thought Cordy was cute enough that nobody would notice the bald fat guy towing her along the parade route, because we got center stage. Yep.  We're famous.

Days of '47 Youth Parade

The West Jordan East Stake was asked to participate in the Day's of '47 Youth Parade this year.  Our ward happens to be in the WJES, so we had a float in the parade:

The theme was "Bee a Helping Hand in Service" (I think...).  On the front of the float, invisible to all but the most superhuman of eyes is a Pennies By the Inch collection jar.

Anyway, I had nothing to do with this float, so don't start commenting on what a great job I did.  It was a whole bunch of other people with more talent and skill (and patience) than I could possibly lay claim to.

The reason why I mention this particular parade is because one very special little girl has a mommy who is way good at finding ways to give said little girl wonderful, memorable experiences.  The daddy in this tale wants the little girl to have fun experiences, but is often too lazy, unmotivated, or just plain grumpy to actually seek them out or jump at the chance.

Therefore, the wonderful mommy went out of her way to make sure the special little girl was prepared, dressed and present the morning of the parade.

The daddy who, at the time, has never really found any point to parades, and who would have been extremely pleased to be able to sleep in on a Saturday morning in July, was also prepared, dressed and present the morning of the parade.

The mommy and daddy each had a health concern regarding walking a mile in 97º weather.  Mommy's asthma had been acting up, and daddy's foot was still extremely tender from recent surgery.  It was determined that daddy would be the parade walker, while mommy watched with her family from the sidelines.

As you can see, the special little girl was lucky enough to get to ride in a wagon for the mile-long walk along 500 south.  And she was pretty happy to be there.  Mostly... but we won't focus on the less happy moments waiting for the parade to finally begin. 

I know I've mentioned my daughter's awful pose-face before.  But honestly, I just can't mention it enough...  I think that maybe subconsciously I might hope that if I talk about it enough, she'll become so self-conscious that she'll spend hours staring in the mirror practicing her smile so that it doesn't look SO INCREDIBLY FORCED AND UNNATURAL.

Yes, I'm a terrible, horrible father.  No need to point that out to me.

It's one of the reasons you will often see Cordelia sticking her tongue out in pictures.  If I can't get her to smile somewhat naturally long enough to snatch a photo of it, I make her stick out her tongue.  It's acceptable among children, so I encourage it.  Generally, I try to catch her in candid photos, as that's the best way to view any person, in my opinion.

However, sometimes there is nothing for it, but to have a completely unnatural, forced photo-op.  Like when you get to be in a parade and you want to have memories of it.  And when somebody decides that it's time for a group pic:

Back: J. Herman, B. Glazier, C. Sorensen, J. Sorensen
Center: S. Herman, A. Glazier, O. Sorensen, T. Dahl
Front: Cordelia "Pose-Face" Casper

Updated Blog *NEW*

You'd think that a guy who was basically unemployed for 2 months with nothing better to do than sit at the computer all day applying for jobs online would have been able to find 15 minutes every few days to update his blog.

You'd be wrong.  Or actually, you'd be right, he would have been able to.  But he didn't.

Anyway, my foot is well on the mend.  The last of the scab fell off two days ago.  It's on the floor here somewhere... unless the dog ate it.  Never mind.

So moving past that, I have a hoard of pictures to post and some stories to go along with them.  But since I don't really want to associate them directly with my foot-scab story, I'll add them separately.

Not For the Faint Hearted

Due to popular demand... Ok, so I just really wanted to do it. But I really did get one request... from a girl, no less. And she's pregnant, at that.

So here they are. Some really gross pictures of my slowly recovering foot.

Please note: These pics were taken just minutes before this post. As of today, it's been 2 weeks since the surgery. Ignore the gross orange toe nails... the orange is left-over iodine or whatever it is they use to sterilize the area. I haven't really been able to wash the immediate area very thoroughly due to... um... pain and stuff.

And also ignore how ugly my feet are. Very few people have pretty feet. I'm not one of them.

Oh yeah... don't forget to "Click to Enlarge."  It's important if you want to get the full gruesome detail.

"I Can't Help It"

Usually I think the phrase "I can't help it" is a cop-out, an excuse, an admission of one's failure to take responsibility for one's actions. I put it in the same boat as "The devil made me do it," "I'm a product of my environment," and "It's my parents' fault."

However, last night I heard my three year old use this phrase in a way that initially irritated (the way it usually does), but then melted my heart into a warm puddle of joy.

I was sitting in my chair, changing the dressings on my foot. Cordelia, the curious beastling that she is, wanted to see the "owie." I showed it to her, and she said, "Hmm, it is black and red. That's weird."

As I started wrapping the gauze around my foot, I gasped at a slight twinge of pain. Cordelia said, "I'm sorry, daddy."

I smiled at her and said, "It isn't your fault, baby. You don't have to be sorry about that."

She shrugged and said, "I can't help it."

As I was in pain, and don't particularly like that phrase I scowled and said, "Can't help what, Cordy?"

She looked up at my face and, with unmistakable concern in her eyes, she replied, "I can't help your foot." My heart instantly softened... and then broke when the next words out of her mouth were: "I just love you, daddy."

I have been blessed with the most amazing child. I know other people feel the same way about their children, and I do not begrudge them that. However, as for me and my family, we know that our darling angel is the perfect addition to our home, and we never forget that. She is more wonderful that I ever feel deserving of.

Blessings in Disguise

When I first went out on the road, I was under the distinct impression that I’d be out for 3 weeks and then home for 3 days. This doesn’t sound very good at all, but it’s pretty standard for those just breaking into the field, it seems, so I accepted it and figured I could roll with this for the first little while.

After 6 weeks of training, I was promoted to company driver status, which meant I was finally going to get paid for what I was doing: ie, driving.

I drove for 2 more weeks and finally got to go home. For two days. Ok, so 3 weeks out = 3 days home, 2 weeks out = 2 days home. Sounds pretty… ahem… good. But I’d been out 8 weeks. Oh well, I needed the money.

So going back out, I was given the opportunity to drive a dedicated route from Ogden, Utah to Paris, Texas. 1316 miles each way, paid at a whopping $0.21 per mile… in a perfect week I could expect to bring home over $800 per week. Sweet money. In the real world, I would be lucky to break $700 in a week, but still, not bad money.

I was told 3 weeks out, 3 days home. Actually, I was told “21 days out, followed by 3 days home.” So, having been given such a specific time-frame, my co-driver and I figured the 21 days were set in stone, so we’d be guaranteed home time.

On day 20 it didn’t look like we were anywhere near getting home by “tomorrow,” so we asked specifically if we still needed to request the time, or was it built in? We were told we had to request it at least 10 days in advance.

Bugger.

So I requested my home time. A week later, our dispatcher got a new job, and we got a new dispatcher. Just a couple of days after that, my co-driver decided to buy a truck with a buddy of his, and got off my truck. Leaving me solo again, and with a new dispatcher.

2 days before I was scheduled to be home, I was speaking with my dispatcher and the subject of my home time came up. He said he had nothing in his files about me having any scheduled home time, but since I’d been out 4 weeks (at that point), he would make sure I got home by Saturday (only a day later than I had requested). That was very kind of him, really.

So I got home Saturday night… my home time officially started Sunday… and despite 5 weeks out, was only going to be 3 days at home.

Monday I had a doctor’s appointment to check up on a bone problem that I have had in my left foot since I was about 14 years old (I had surgery back then, and ever since I’ve had some pain… the past few years the pain has been intensifying, and the past week or so has been excruciating).

I saw Dr. Young Monday morning. He took x-rays and reviewed an MRI that I had done last August. He determined that the bone needed to be biopsied and possibly removed. He considered the matter urgent, and scheduled me for an operation the following day.

My 3 days at home suddenly became a medically necessary 2 weeks.

Money is going to dry completely up. But the severe depression being away from home was putting me through is gone. My foot hurts from the surgery WAY more than it ever did from the simple pain of whatever was wrong with it… and yet it is totally worth being able to see my little girl, hold my wife, eat home-cooked meals, and simply to be in my house.

Now I have time to look for a different, hopefully better, job with more steady home-time, possibly even daily home time. Like a normal person.

Even if not, this time at home was needed desperately. By me. By my wife. And for my little angel, who was missing her daddy as much as he was missing her.

I thank God from the depths of my soul for this blessing.

M.I.A.

It’s difficult to update this blog without actually being around my family to experience events first-hand. Often the very things that prompt me posting something are things that don’t trigger anything in Tammy, so she doesn’t think to pass it on, or she just forgets when we do talk. This is in NO way a criticism of my wonderful, beautiful, and extremely overwhelmed wife. It’s simply an observation.

As I sat, preparing this blog, I read through my previous post and found that much of what I had been intending to post today, I already posted two months ago. Well, that’s simply not acceptable. How is it that in two months, I’ve learned nothing new or interesting about my family???

Easter came and went. I’ve got nothing. I know they painted eggs, and I got a couple of pictures and a video or two messaged to me… but that’s not something I can readily address myself.

What I’m hoping for is more consistent home-time, so I can experience first-hand the joys, challenges, and excitement of being a father and a husband, not just a paycheck who occasionally sleeps in the house.

Anyway, my daughter remains beautiful, my wife remains wonderful, my job remains irritatingly inconsistent, and life remains a probationary state.

I will say this: The struggle of being away from home has reawakened in me a need (a hunger and thirst, if you will) for the gospel in my life. I’ve found immense strength in prayer and scripture study that I had been lacking in recent months and years, the relatively “prosperous” life giving me a sense of comfort that masked my need for spiritual strength.

I’m remedying that. They say you need to make the best of any situation, and this is possibly the worst situation I’ve ever been in (I cannot express how much more difficult it is to be away from my family than I had thought it would be – and I knew it was going to be tough), so in order to make the best of it, I’m finding myself relying heavily on the Lord. And though it is certainly not any easier, I can say with conviction, I am no longer feeling as hopeless as I had been only a few weeks ago.

“La vita è dura, ma dura poco.” –Italian proverb (coined by yours truly)
“Life is tough, but it’s short.”