<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025</id><updated>2011-11-13T17:36:56.016-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Split Time</title><subtitle type='html'>Reflections on the last mile in the race of life -</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-2291669120208414294</id><published>2011-03-25T18:23:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T19:02:31.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hypogonadism: a Transient State (I Hope)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;The last and final quarter has started; that is, the last quarter before beginning two years of clinical rotations in Logan, UT. Just two days back from spring break and we were scheduled to take a 4 h diagnostic exam for our upcoming Step One Boards.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;The exam was grueling, painful, mind-numbing! No breaks! Just a slow build-up of tension in the neck and back, just between the shoulder blades! After I reached the half-way point (question number 92), my mind literally began to shutdown. Processing the remaining questions was like trying to access a website that does not exist -- try back later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;That evening I received a text from a classmate who summed up the experience rather succinctly. It read: "So, if pathology exams were a kick in the balls, what we just did was complete castration . . . with a soup spoon! Ouch!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;The next morning I could not help but note the irony of the topic of our 8 o'clock class: hypogonadism. An appropriate lecture given the fact that I now found myself walking into class with a eunuch-like swagger!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-2291669120208414294?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/2291669120208414294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2011/03/hypogonadism-transient-state-i-hope.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/2291669120208414294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/2291669120208414294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2011/03/hypogonadism-transient-state-i-hope.html' title='Hypogonadism: a Transient State (I Hope)'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-2744420080685617456</id><published>2010-10-17T11:13:00.021-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-18T07:23:10.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Integrative Learning</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This morning Elias woke up with vesicular-type lesions around his lips and on his hands. Just two days ago he ran a low-grade fever. His behavior has been normal; a little clingy, but no malaise, lethargy, or loss of appetite. April suspects hand, foot, and mouth disease. My response: coxsackie virus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April then asks me incredulously: "Have you studied this yet?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you can fully appreciate just how loaded this question is and what she is really inferring, allow me to give a little context and background.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Slapped Face Disease&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;About seven months ago I started learning about all of the little bugs that can cause human illness and disease. The course was Medical Microbiology; and it had been, perhaps, the single greatest cause of anxiety during the two previous quarters. There is a reason I chose to do my Master's research in physiology. Petrie dishes, cultures, gels, microbes, toxins, antibodies, interleukins . . . these were all reason enough to stay as far away from the department as possible! Then, I learned about Parvovirus B19 . . . firsthand!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/TLtDZ0C6svI/AAAAAAAAAJM/E6rTDgo9i2U/s1600/2010+05+10+Slapped+Face+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/TLtDZ0C6svI/AAAAAAAAAJM/E6rTDgo9i2U/s320/2010+05+10+Slapped+Face+004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529087078274085618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Blepharitis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Labor Day, the last day of my summer vacation, I took the kids to Thousand Hills State Park where we managed to find a dried-up feeder stream and wade in the semi-stagnate water. There were lots of water bugs, mud, tadpoles, and water! What more could a kid want? The weather was absolutely beautiful; humidity was low and the sun was shining! It was the perfect way to officially end summer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were wading through the murky water to regain the trail,  Isaac managed to find a twig that was waiting for his ankle just beneath the surface. After a few tears, we resumed our hike as he wobbled his way back to the car. The next morning he woke up with a swollen left ankle. Later that day we noticed what looked like a rash begin to appear on his right eye. The following morning, not only was the swelling in his foot creeping up his leg, but now he could barely open his eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind immediately began to peruse the mass volumes of bugs and disease presentations that I had "learned" -- or, rather, been exposed to -- just a couple months ago. I vaguely recalled that the reduviid bug (i.e., the "kissing bug") preferentially bit its victims near the eye, transmitting some kind of disease or infection (i.e., Chagas disease). I reasoned to April that, perhaps, Isaac was bitten by the same bug. (Note: I failed to remember a small fact that the reduviid bug is found only in South and Central America.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The swelling in Isaac's eye progressively got worse. Three days after our little adventure in the wild, April acutely observed that Isaac had small little pustules, blister-like lesions, appearing on his forearm. Diagnosis: type IV hypersensitivity reaction to poison ivy. The doctor confirmed what we had suspected. And upon further questioning, Isaac acknowledged that while playing at the lake he was pulling off some of the leaves from the overhanging plants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/TLtDZWSh18I/AAAAAAAAAJE/pC_98Hl325I/s1600/Blepharitis+005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/TLtDZWSh18I/AAAAAAAAAJE/pC_98Hl325I/s320/Blepharitis+005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529087070286501826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Cat Scratch Disease&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple weeks ago I was in the basement reviewing some OTM treatments with a couple classmates. After putting the kids in bed, April comes down and forbids me to show the kids any more pictures from Infectious Disease. Apparently, Isaac had just asked April about a little bump that was on the back of his neck. After feeling it, she let him know that it was nothing to worry about, that is was probably just a mosquito bite. "No!" He protested, adding, "I think it is Cat Scratch Disease." She assured him that it was not. His response is classic: "How do you know?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Hand, Foot &amp;amp; Mouth Disease&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While attempting to write this blog, I heard April yelling my name. I went upstairs and found her changing Elias' diaper. Pointing to his feet, she said, "Look! Look at these!" The small, little dots that will soon turn vesicular confirm the diagnosis. And if that is not enough, then we have Enoch waiting on deck. If our diagnosis is correct, then he too should break out in the next day or two just like Elias -- as he ran a fever just last night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess you can say that school has been quite the integrative learning experience! And in case you are wondering, we have just covered STIs and I am pleased to say that I have nothing to report. No ulcerative lesions! No cauliflower-like adhesions! No fishy smelling, purulent discharge!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-2744420080685617456?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/2744420080685617456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2010/10/this-morning-elias-woke-up-with.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/2744420080685617456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/2744420080685617456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2010/10/this-morning-elias-woke-up-with.html' title='Integrative Learning'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/TLtDZ0C6svI/AAAAAAAAAJM/E6rTDgo9i2U/s72-c/2010+05+10+Slapped+Face+004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-2497870057903532359</id><published>2010-04-23T09:02:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T23:30:45.152-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An Ingenius Plan</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Isaac lost tooth number two last night. Although it was without intention, he did assist in its extraction. Just before going to bed, he took some string (dental floss, I believe) and wrapped it around his loose tooth. Then, he took the other end of the string and tied it around his head board. When he went to lay down in bed -- pop! -- out came his tooth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The interesting part about the whole experience is that he had no intention of extracting his tooth . . . at all! Because he thought that his tooth was going to fall out all on its own sometime during the night, wrapping a string around it was an attempt to circumvent the inevitable -- swallowing it! It was a plan &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;brilliantly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;devised to keep the tooth tethered long enough to where he then could retrieve it in the morning by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;merely hoisting up the string.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-2497870057903532359?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/2497870057903532359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2010/04/ingenius-plan.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/2497870057903532359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/2497870057903532359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2010/04/ingenius-plan.html' title='An Ingenius Plan'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-8525633471898101695</id><published>2009-12-28T07:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T08:47:43.560-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Nutcracker</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The snow had arrived, and just in time for Christmas! However, here in MO it never just snows without some other element present. Instead of rain or sleet or ice, the usual choices it seems, this time the element was wind. Because of the blizzard-like conditions that were sweeping across the state -- and, by extension, the entire Midwest -- we were not quite sure whether we should make the trip to Kansas City or not. It did not help matters either to have two of the doors on our mini-van frozen shut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To determine whether the unforeseen would be detrimental to us if we were to make the trip, we offered a little prayer. Afterwords, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Cayanna stated that she felt "good about going". Deep down, both April and I were hoping the opposite. The day after Christmas and we were tired and wanting to just stay put, not to mention we were not really thrilled about braving the cold for the 3 1/2 hr drive! Yet, other than our own line of reasoning and discomfort, how could we argue with her? After all, this year was going to be different, more meaningful, more memorable! With kids, the present has a way of ALWAYS being the best (e.g., the best birthday, the best Christmas, etc). So naturally, this Nutcracker was going to be the BEST ever, better than the previous three we had attended together!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it was --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The curtains opened and Act II began. The Sugar Plum Fairy greeted us like royalty; the Spanish dancers offered us some chocolate; and then the Arabian dancers (my favorite) seduced us into having some eye-coffee. Referring to the next set of dancers that appeared on stage, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Cayanna leaned over and asked, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;"Daddy, are these the Chinese?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes," I replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unable to hold back her critique of their curt and tortuous moves any longer, she leaned over to me again and observed, "They make really good food, but they are not very good dancers!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, it was an AWESOME and memorable afternoon! It was also a nice reminder that memories are not always presented to us on a silver platter, but often require risk, inconvenience, and getting out of one's comfort zone and into the cold!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SzjLIKNdD5I/AAAAAAAAAIs/f4Xj9UWVziM/s1600-h/2009+12+26+Nutcracker+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SzjLIKNdD5I/AAAAAAAAAIs/f4Xj9UWVziM/s320/2009+12+26+Nutcracker+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420305492580568978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"  &gt;Cayanna (7 1/2 y/o) standing in front of the Music Hall in downtown Kansas City&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SzjLI6ONi1I/AAAAAAAAAI0/yZym8m65OE4/s1600-h/2009+12+26+Nutcracker+001_edited-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SzjLI6ONi1I/AAAAAAAAAI0/yZym8m65OE4/s320/2009+12+26+Nutcracker+001_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420305505468648274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Our BEST date so far!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-8525633471898101695?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/8525633471898101695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/12/nutcracker.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8525633471898101695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8525633471898101695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/12/nutcracker.html' title='The Nutcracker'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SzjLIKNdD5I/AAAAAAAAAIs/f4Xj9UWVziM/s72-c/2009+12+26+Nutcracker+006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-4719168636591184314</id><published>2009-11-21T21:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T10:22:01.791-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Share the Harvest</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The dear hunt has arrived; it is that mythical time of year when boys become men, and men become boys -- a right of passage, of sorts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday afternoon we took a drive to a small town just 45 min north of Kirksville (Memphis, MO), near the Iowa-MO border. With finals slated all week, I was needing a little distraction, a little reprieve from studying . . . something to break me free from the self-absorbed bubble that med school requires! So we immersed ourselves in to the local culture -- National Geographic-style!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is not uncommon to see a trailer filled with deer carcasses in the middle of a parking lot, just off main street. It is the central hub, the main artery, the locus of all comings-and-goings in town. It is a cultural amphitheater for non-natives like me. Share the Harvest is a program ran by one of the local churches (this one, I believe, is ran by the Baptists) which is designed to feed the hungry with the deer that is "leftover" from the hunt. Each hunter that gives his/her prize to the program is asked to donate $20 to help offset butchering costs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SwizYR0185I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/2ZtIGEymZ1c/s1600/Share+the+Harvest+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SwizYR0185I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/2ZtIGEymZ1c/s320/Share+the+Harvest+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406768582341555090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;A pretty impressive program . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SwizjnZWnMI/AAAAAAAAAIY/3BAP9nVXjac/s1600/Share+the+Harvest+004_edited-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SwizjnZWnMI/AAAAAAAAAIY/3BAP9nVXjac/s320/Share+the+Harvest+004_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406768777110396098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;and a pretty impressive sight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: left;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;While visiting with some of the locals, a hunter pulled up to the gas station next to us. With tailgate down, three trophy-sized racks were showcased in the back of the truck like Christmas window adornments at Macy's! Passersby stopped and admired these soon-to-be wall ornaments, stroking the hunters' manhood with every question posed. Of course, I was right there in the middle, indulging the moment as they boasted of their heroics!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it is that mythical time of year -- a time, no doubt, when &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;living vicariously through another is just the escape that I needed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Swiz4YnijsI/AAAAAAAAAIg/cFkRKgd74co/s1600/Share+the+Harvest+010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Swiz4YnijsI/AAAAAAAAAIg/cFkRKgd74co/s320/Share+the+Harvest+010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406769133920620226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;(left to right) 17, 11 and 8 point whitetail buck&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-4719168636591184314?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/4719168636591184314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/11/share-harvest.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/4719168636591184314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/4719168636591184314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/11/share-harvest.html' title='Share the Harvest'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SwizYR0185I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/2ZtIGEymZ1c/s72-c/Share+the+Harvest+003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-5416146832328321239</id><published>2009-11-12T14:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T14:48:05.445-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No Talking Allowed</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This morning I decided to break from my normal routine and study at home. Not long after, Caleb entered asking if he could do his math in the office with me. Absolutely - Then entered Cayanna, who was wondering the same thing. Unlike Caleb who has studied with me before, this would be Cayanna's first. Wanting to preempt any distractions that may arise, a ground rule was set. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Alright, there will be NO talking while in the office! Total quiet, silence -- that is all!" I instructed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They both agreed, and went quickly about their work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Several minutes later, April entered the office to check her email, which led to a discussion about the housing market and our options once our lease expires.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Obviously distracted and somewhat annoyed, Cayanna interrupted, saying, "No talking in the room; it is making me frustrated!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Needless to say, we took our discussion to the other room so as to not further disrupt and "frustrate" the learning environment. It is times like this when I am encouraged that the huge investment of time, energy and resources that April makes daily is taking root! Nicely done, Sweetheart!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-5416146832328321239?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/5416146832328321239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/11/no-talking-allowed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/5416146832328321239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/5416146832328321239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/11/no-talking-allowed.html' title='No Talking Allowed'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-8752289210750651672</id><published>2009-10-31T09:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T09:50:23.667-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An Unpredictable Observation</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SuxLBYwFFSI/AAAAAAAAAII/DXolI2WlebU/s1600-h/IMG_1771+026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SuxLBYwFFSI/AAAAAAAAAII/DXolI2WlebU/s320/IMG_1771+026.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398772540506445090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Enoch (3 1/2 y/o)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, while sitting around the dinner table, Enoch made a rather interesting diagnosis. Unlike the two older kids who were enjoying homemade chili relleno (potentially too spicy for the younger ones), he (along with Isaac) were the recipients of a cheese quesadilla. After a bite or two, Enoch began to cough. In between coughing bouts, he observed matter-of-factly that "I have whooping cough".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that some childhood experiences will never be forgotten, as they are played out again and again -- at times, too, when we least expect it. You got to love the unpredictability of children! For me, this is, perhaps, one of the most endearing qualities they possess -- yet, at the same time, it can be one of the most maddening!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-8752289210750651672?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/8752289210750651672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/10/unpredictable-observation.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8752289210750651672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8752289210750651672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/10/unpredictable-observation.html' title='An Unpredictable Observation'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SuxLBYwFFSI/AAAAAAAAAII/DXolI2WlebU/s72-c/IMG_1771+026.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-1672993770586050862</id><published>2009-10-06T23:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T06:27:30.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Autumn has Arrived!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Autumn has arrived! Not only is there a crispness in the air, but the color of summer is beginning to turn. Here in Missouri, we look to the soy and corn fields to confirm the inevitable -- that the frigid winter is but a few months away! Ice looming in the distance; and in anticipation, we try to keep warm by holding tight to the stale humidity of summer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The transition from summer to winter is slow . . . but, given the conditions that we are leaving and will be heading into, it is not slow enough! This sad reality makes this past weekend all the more memorable! Here are a few of the scenes that we enjoyed on our Sunday drive out in the country!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SswjexXF1wI/AAAAAAAAAHw/WSu39PgM4Z8/s1600-h/Cornfield.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SswjexXF1wI/AAAAAAAAAHw/WSu39PgM4Z8/s320/Cornfield.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389721865608877826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;A maze of corn . . . so tempting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SswkEddM_8I/AAAAAAAAAIA/Xtcx73e-mFY/s1600-h/Full+moon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SswkEddM_8I/AAAAAAAAAIA/Xtcx73e-mFY/s320/Full+moon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389722513100832706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;In the east, a full moon rising . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SswkD6JtegI/AAAAAAAAAH4/qTR8R65WEtM/s1600-h/MO+Sunset.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SswkD6JtegI/AAAAAAAAAH4/qTR8R65WEtM/s320/MO+Sunset.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389722503623834114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;while in the west, the sun sets behind a silo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-1672993770586050862?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/1672993770586050862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/10/autumn-has-arrived.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/1672993770586050862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/1672993770586050862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/10/autumn-has-arrived.html' title='Autumn has Arrived!'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SswjexXF1wI/AAAAAAAAAHw/WSu39PgM4Z8/s72-c/Cornfield.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-258489642776037060</id><published>2009-09-26T06:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T17:01:17.707-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Breech Class?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sr4ES5PEBrI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/q4sum8tEhzc/s1600-h/Isaac+%26+Elias.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sr4ES5PEBrI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/q4sum8tEhzc/s320/Isaac+%26+Elias.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385746927029847730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"  &gt;Elias (7 1/2 mos) and Isaac ( 5 y/o)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;- Aug 31, 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Monday evening we asked Isaac where he was going "tomorrow morning" (Tuesday). Responding with a hint of excitement, he answered, "Breech class!". Then we asked Cayanna where she thought Isaac was going. She responded matter-of-factly, "Breech class!". Somewhat befuddled yet amused, we then asked Caleb the same question. There was a slight variation in his response, "Speech class!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was all starting to make sense now. Several weeks ago Isaac approached me and asked, seemingly from nowhere, "Daddy, I wish all the kids were breech." Taken back yet curious, I countered, "Why do you wish all the kids were born breech?" His response was very illuminating in regards to just how quickly (and inadvertently) kids begin to define and make sense of their life-experience. "So everyone can understand me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Isaac," I pressed, "do you think people don't understand your talking because you were born breech?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Yes!" He responded.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So come this January Isaac will officially begin "breech" class, and if you ask him he will say that he is very excited -- both because he will get to "play" and be understood!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-258489642776037060?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/258489642776037060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/09/breech-class.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/258489642776037060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/258489642776037060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/09/breech-class.html' title='Breech Class?'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sr4ES5PEBrI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/q4sum8tEhzc/s72-c/Isaac+%26+Elias.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-3758958494786402091</id><published>2009-08-28T02:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T22:53:23.078-05:00</updated><title type='text'>White Coat Ceremony</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;It seems hard to believe, but medical school has FINALLY arrived! The journey getting here has been long and arduous (13 years to be exact), and looming ahead is the promise that this is not the end but merely the beginning! As is customary, last Saturday marked a very significant milestone in that we received our "white coat", which symbolizes our induction into the profession as physicians-to-be. In other words, our life as a physician begins NOW and not upon graduation. I find this quite encouraging! Given the fact that I will graduate from medical school one month after turning the BIG 40, it is comforting to know that my life for these next four years is not "wasting away" while awaiting for my new career to begin. It is an exciting time, indeed -- as the means are an essential and integral part of the end!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SpyVQjDIhgI/AAAAAAAAAG4/2PA2FjDxT5w/s1600-h/White+Coat+007_edited-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 178px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SpyVQjDIhgI/AAAAAAAAAG4/2PA2FjDxT5w/s320/White+Coat+007_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376336166692357634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"  &gt;Faculty standing as the Class of 2013 enters the auditorium&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SpyWAV9TxQI/AAAAAAAAAHA/LkfzSyJKRKo/s1600-h/White+Coat+021_edited-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 170px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SpyWAV9TxQI/AAAAAAAAAHA/LkfzSyJKRKo/s320/White+Coat+021_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376336987811988738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Introducing myself prior to donning a new "white coat"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SpyWyd2KAJI/AAAAAAAAAHI/-_VRnTDjjgM/s1600-h/White+Coat+045_edited-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 231px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SpyWyd2KAJI/AAAAAAAAAHI/-_VRnTDjjgM/s320/White+Coat+045_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376337848922931346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"  &gt;The source of my support!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-3758958494786402091?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/3758958494786402091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/08/white-coat-ceremony.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/3758958494786402091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/3758958494786402091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/08/white-coat-ceremony.html' title='White Coat Ceremony'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SpyVQjDIhgI/AAAAAAAAAG4/2PA2FjDxT5w/s72-c/White+Coat+007_edited-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-5207847557846223752</id><published>2009-06-15T17:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T18:28:21.625-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Totally Awesome: An 80s Party Worth Remembering!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Are you, like, way bored and, like, have nothing to do this weekend? If so, then you may want to, like, consider hangin' out this weekend and having this, like, cool 80s party and stuff! Earlier this year we did just that: not like once, but twice! It was so rad, the party and all, we had to hang again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like called Erin, my bestest friend from school you know, and said, "Hey, you wanna have like have an 80s party when Bill gets in town?" She said, "Uh, like . . . yeah!" "We can play some real cool tunes, too . . . like Tiffany, Heart, Duran Duran, and Belinda Carlisle!" Dude, she was all over it - New Kids on the Block and all! And the party like totally ROCKED! We jammed all night, dancin', singin', eatin' and doin' the worm! It was like totally the raddest ever!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SjbRbTGDReI/AAAAAAAAAGY/58RZMkd7wFA/s1600-h/Erin+%26+Bill+-+80s+Party.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SjbRbTGDReI/AAAAAAAAAGY/58RZMkd7wFA/s320/Erin+%26+Bill+-+80s+Party.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347691874461369826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Bill Burns and Erin Klatt just hangin' out!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SjbRb6BT7xI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Aa61naB18rI/s1600-h/Caleb+%26+Cayanna+-+80s+Party.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SjbRb6BT7xI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Aa61naB18rI/s320/Caleb+%26+Cayanna+-+80s+Party.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347691884910472978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Caleb &amp;amp; Cayanna feelin' the groove!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SjbRb-STTAI/AAAAAAAAAGo/d2EVSUhkurE/s1600-h/The+Moment+-+80s+Party.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SjbRb-STTAI/AAAAAAAAAGo/d2EVSUhkurE/s320/The+Moment+-+80s+Party.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347691886055476226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Sharing a moment with, like, my bestest friend ever, Bill -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SjbRcc7_GMI/AAAAAAAAAGw/NGhtYAa0MTM/s1600-h/April+%26+Bart+-+80s+Party.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SjbRcc7_GMI/AAAAAAAAAGw/NGhtYAa0MTM/s320/April+%26+Bart+-+80s+Party.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347691894283376834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Just chillin' with my girl -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-5207847557846223752?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/5207847557846223752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/06/totally-awesome-80s-party-worth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/5207847557846223752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/5207847557846223752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/06/totally-awesome-80s-party-worth.html' title='Totally Awesome: An 80s Party Worth Remembering!'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SjbRbTGDReI/AAAAAAAAAGY/58RZMkd7wFA/s72-c/Erin+%26+Bill+-+80s+Party.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-8526508229189895104</id><published>2009-05-31T23:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T00:33:44.399-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And the Winner Is . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;About a week before the submission deadline (which was 4/30), I took the kids up to Thousand Hills State Park for a photoshoot. The German manufacturer, Schleich, was sponsoring a photocontest. The theme was farm life, and the rules required the use of their figurines. Because we are HUGE fans of Schleich products, we thought we would give it a shot. If nothing else, we would have a lot of fun creating various farm scenes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;together as a family -- which was an &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;absolute blast, by the way!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While in Seattle, WA earlier this week, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I received a phone call from a very excited kid! He read me the following e-mail:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"On behalf of Schleich North America let me begin by thanking you for participating and making the first Schleich Hobby Farm Home Contest an enormous success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm very happy to announce that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;your photo has been selected as one of our ten winners&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We are very excited to send out your prize, a new Schleich Red Barn. In order to do so as quickly as possible, we need the attached form completed and returned within ten days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Congratulations once again for your winning submission.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Here is the winning picture, as well as a few other favorites from our photoshoot. Keep in mind that Caleb was the one who composed and shot the winning picture. Yes, he is becoming quite the fledgling National Geographic photographer (no complaints here)!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SiNgpwtkkQI/AAAAAAAAAFg/QLu5XqvYcY4/s1600-h/Round-up.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SiNgpwtkkQI/AAAAAAAAAFg/QLu5XqvYcY4/s320/Round-up.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342219853558485250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Winning picture!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SiNgqJzO4sI/AAAAAAAAAFo/O_WpNVTCjSM/s1600-h/Stand-off.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SiNgqJzO4sI/AAAAAAAAAFo/O_WpNVTCjSM/s320/Stand-off.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342219860293116610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Submitted one day late unknowingly (i.e., got hung up in the "outbox").&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SiNhiUuCtEI/AAAAAAAAAFw/FnD_5_oE56I/s1600-h/Wild+Horses.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SiNhiUuCtEI/AAAAAAAAAFw/FnD_5_oE56I/s320/Wild+Horses.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342220825296811074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;A slight deviation from the Farm theme.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-8526508229189895104?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/8526508229189895104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/05/and-winner-is.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8526508229189895104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8526508229189895104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/05/and-winner-is.html' title='And the Winner Is . . .'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SiNgpwtkkQI/AAAAAAAAAFg/QLu5XqvYcY4/s72-c/Round-up.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-808395792062241549</id><published>2009-05-17T11:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T09:13:29.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tornado Hits Kirksville</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ShDpFkeeBjI/AAAAAAAAAFY/8uZjlrJmtVc/s1600-h/Tornado+-+Kirskville+Daily+Express.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 210px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ShDpFkeeBjI/AAAAAAAAAFY/8uZjlrJmtVc/s320/Tornado+-+Kirskville+Daily+Express.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337021840334128690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(image provided by Kirksville Daily Express)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Since Enoch is taking a "sick day" from Church this morning, I thought it would be appropriate to take a few moments and reflect on the tornado that roared through the north end of town this past Wednesday. To be honest, though, it is difficult to know what exactly to say. After all, normalcy has been restored: rats have been run on the treadmill; experiments have been carried out and performed; the lawn has been mowed; groceries have been purchased; and Enoch continues to struggle in transitioning from diapers to the toilet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feeling that prevailed Wednesday evening while walking through the ravaged neighborhood and seeing rooftops dismantled and laying in the neighboring fields was an overwhelming sense of insignificance! For me, it brought back feelings of 9/11. Though the destruction is different in etiology, the sense that my security had not only been jeopardized but attacked was very similar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Whether orchestrated by man or Mother Nature, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;to consider that at any one moment the world in which we have carefully constructed for ourselves and family could be gone -- in an instant -- is a reality that I do not wish to entertain in excessive amounts! Small doses, if I must.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, life is both precarious and fragile! I vividly recall the events of 9/11. Particularly, I recall walking from the clinic to the hospital and wondering what (and who) was next. Were there any other sites in NYC that were under target? If the terrorists involved in the hijack of the planes were of Palestinian origin, was this attack on America retaliation for our support of Israel? If so, then how safe was I really working at a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Jewish &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;hospital in NYC that bears the name of Palestine's enemy (i.e., Beth Israel Medical Center)? As I was entertaining these questions in my mind, a distinct feeling came over me. It was a feeling that proffered peace and security, the very mainstays that were now under attack! The feeling was very clear and left no room for misinterpretation: that whatever happened (or was going to happen) I would make it out alive! What an incredible feeling that was to have received such an assurance as this! To consider that my life, insignificant as it is, was not only going to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;be &lt;/span&gt;protected but that it was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;worth &lt;/span&gt;protecting! This was a very humbling realization, indeed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will have to forgive me for reverting back to 9/11, but the emotional aftermath of the tornado is very similar. In an instant, in a matter of moments, everything we have known and worked so hard to build can be lost, destroyed, damaged . . . completely annihilated! However, the inner peace that comes from knowing that you are known by something greater than yourself is not for the taking. Rather, it is a gift from heaven above! If nothing else, the events of last week -- like the attacks of 9/11 --  have reminded me of this reality: that though my life is insignificant, it is still of interest to the God in heaven! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-808395792062241549?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/808395792062241549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/05/tornado-hits-kirksville.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/808395792062241549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/808395792062241549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/05/tornado-hits-kirksville.html' title='Tornado Hits Kirksville'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ShDpFkeeBjI/AAAAAAAAAFY/8uZjlrJmtVc/s72-c/Tornado+-+Kirskville+Daily+Express.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-1212724917429864304</id><published>2009-05-16T17:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T00:01:36.345-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nursing Home: Got Milk?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The following is an illustration of just how witty (or literal) children can be:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon we were having a little family "pow-wow" to discuss our options (all two of them) as to where to eat lunch (Mexican or Chinese). Trying to ease the tension that was building up inside me with our lack of choices -- good choices, that is -- I suggested that we go to a nursing home and eat at the cafeteria there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caleb objected, saying: "No, they will just have milk!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not think I will ever be able to visit a nursing home again without seeing in my mind's eye the image that Caleb's objection invokes. There they are, sitting in the lobby, the cafeteria, the hallway, in the privates of their own room . . . playing dominoes or cards, crocheting, knitting, falling in love with Bob Barker while watching reruns of the Price is Right. Typical scene, I know, except for the fact that, along with the oxygen tank that sits beside them, they are all hooked up to a breast pump. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This scenario is not out of the realm of possibilities -- so I have been told. There is a herb (fenugreek seed) that when ingested can cause one to lactate -- grown men, even! In fact, tribal tradition &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;in some remote areas of South America &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;requires a father to assume the responsibility of breastfeeding in the event that something happens to the mother. And when the father is unavailable, then the next in line assumes the role -- that is, grandpa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lactating men? It does seem to expand on what it means to provide for one's family -- a little too literal, perhaps. Regardless, the movement does seem to be &lt;a href="http://www.unassistedchildbirth.com/miscarticles/milkmen.html"&gt;gaining ground&lt;/a&gt; a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just some food for thought --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;(A preemptive disclosure: I have not taken, nor do I have any intention of taking, fenugreek seed supplements. Nor am I an employee of a manufacturer of the herb.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-1212724917429864304?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/1212724917429864304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/05/nursing-home-childs-perspective.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/1212724917429864304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/1212724917429864304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/05/nursing-home-childs-perspective.html' title='Nursing Home: Got Milk?'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-4210231037757287358</id><published>2009-05-10T11:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T14:01:59.199-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Mother's Day, Sweetheart!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Alright, so it is Mother's Day today, and it just so happens that I have a few moments to reflect on what an incredible wife and mother April is (and has been)! Perhaps sharing the date that we had this past autumn may illustrate my point a little better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It was a weekday evening when we procured a baby sitter and dined out at the new (and only) Italian restaurant in town. The food was decent; it was neither spectacular nor awful . . . but acceptable (which given our options here in Kirksville does not really say much). The waitress asked April, who was pregnant with Elias and in her second trimester, if we would like a table -- as she was unsure if a booth would comfortably accommodate her. We took the table, but not without acknowledging the hole the waitress had just dug for herself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Earlier that day at school I had catheterized a rat; this time around, though, catheterization was anything but routine. Though I had done it several times previously and was quite comfortable with the procedure, I was not able to foresee the problem that I would encounter -- as I was unaware of the secondary vessel that branched off the carotid artery. It can be quite difficult to complete the procedure when working in a pool of blood. The bleeding from this secondary artery was so severe that I thought he was going to pass on and into the tunnel of light -- but he did not, at least not at that moment! As April and I were enjoying this time together away from the kids, my mind kept drifting to the lab and to the rat that was -- hopefully! -- recovering from both surgery and the loss of blood. With 40 min left before the baby sitter was "off the clock", I asked April if we could swing by school and check on the rat. She graciously obliged!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feeling just as much invested in my research project as I do, she accompanied me to the recovery room. When I opened the door and looked over towards the fiberglass cage, I could scarcely believe what I saw: Mr Rat was sitting atop the cage! Not only was he managing to recover well, but he managed to push open the metal wire covering that latches on to the side of the cage. It was unbelievable! Had I not checked on him, it is difficult to know where in the building he would have ended up and if, at all, we would have found his whereabouts. He literally could have wreaked some serious havoc, not to mention the thousands of dollars in experimental mice that potentially could have been destroyed as a result! (Note: rats and mice do not co-habitate well; rats are very territorial and will typically kill mice when given the chance.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night I drove home noting just how fortunate I really am -- as there are not very many women who would have obliged me the way in which April did! And without any complaints, too! Thank you, Sweetheart, for making my life much more meaningful and exciting than it would be otherwise! I look forward to the many more adventures that await us --&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following are just a few pictures that capture, I feel, the true spirit of motherhood! Happy Mother's Day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgcY3PLJJsI/AAAAAAAAAE4/RtcFvkXDDXY/s1600-h/Gather+%27round_edited-1+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgcY3PLJJsI/AAAAAAAAAE4/RtcFvkXDDXY/s320/Gather+%27round_edited-1+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334259620888782530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Isaac's birth (June 24, 2004)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgcYT7nAYRI/AAAAAAAAAEo/7Uz2GrVPuV8/s1600-h/IMG_1561.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgcYT7nAYRI/AAAAAAAAAEo/7Uz2GrVPuV8/s320/IMG_1561.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334259014341517586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Traveling by bus from Queens, NY to the Bronx Zoo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; (October, 2005)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgcfpM4wj6I/AAAAAAAAAFI/l5ascpUrcv8/s1600-h/IMG_2938_edited-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgcfpM4wj6I/AAAAAAAAAFI/l5ascpUrcv8/s320/IMG_2938_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334267076338028450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Enjoying a nature walk in Forest Park, Queens, NY (October, 2006)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgcYTotSKcI/AAAAAAAAAEg/HxnXCPw5Kws/s1600-h/Tobyhanna,+PA010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgcYTotSKcI/AAAAAAAAAEg/HxnXCPw5Kws/s320/Tobyhanna,+PA010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334259009267575234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Moving from NY to MO: farewell gathering in Tobyhanna, PA (June, 2007)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgcY21i_HNI/AAAAAAAAAEw/o3xcKggteCo/s1600-h/IMG_0475+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgcY21i_HNI/AAAAAAAAAEw/o3xcKggteCo/s320/IMG_0475+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334259614009466066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Awaiting the subway (August, 2004)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgccILjJyPI/AAAAAAAAAFA/fzgg2KzgunE/s1600-h/104-0441_IMG_edited-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 308px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgccILjJyPI/AAAAAAAAAFA/fzgg2KzgunE/s320/104-0441_IMG_edited-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334263210508404978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Got milk? (July, 2004)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-4210231037757287358?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/4210231037757287358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/05/phototribute-happy-mothers-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/4210231037757287358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/4210231037757287358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/05/phototribute-happy-mothers-day.html' title='Happy Mother&apos;s Day, Sweetheart!'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SgcY3PLJJsI/AAAAAAAAAE4/RtcFvkXDDXY/s72-c/Gather+%27round_edited-1+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-6966468923331642485</id><published>2009-05-04T09:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T10:18:17.993-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Photocontest: Who Am I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sf76g1JYpwI/AAAAAAAAAEI/F7Eg4ramLl0/s1600-h/05+02+09+Cow+Carcass+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sf76g1JYpwI/AAAAAAAAAEI/F7Eg4ramLl0/s200/05+02+09+Cow+Carcass+004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331974450782447362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Background&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;: Saturday afternoon the kids and I went for a short run/ride (2 were in the stroller, and 2 were on their bikes). We drove just outside the City limits for a scenic ~3 mile hilly adventure out in the country. As we approached this make-shift bridge, we noticed a rather large chicken leg (as the kids called it) sitting in the middle of the stream lodged underneath a fence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Contest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;: The kids and I thought it would be fun to make a little contest out of our find. Can you identify the object in the picture? There is a prize for the first person who correctly identifies it. You have one week to give it a try; good luck!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sf77STCNvJI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/pj_6mGEYxsA/s1600-h/05+02+09+Cow+Carcass+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sf77STCNvJI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/pj_6mGEYxsA/s320/05+02+09+Cow+Carcass+003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331975300619025554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"&gt;&lt;span class="on" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Add_Image" title="Add Image" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="addImage();" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);;ButtonMouseDown(this);"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" alt="Add Image" class="gl_photo" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-6966468923331642485?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/6966468923331642485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/05/photocontest-who-am-i.html#comment-form' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/6966468923331642485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/6966468923331642485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/05/photocontest-who-am-i.html' title='Photocontest: Who Am I?'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sf76g1JYpwI/AAAAAAAAAEI/F7Eg4ramLl0/s72-c/05+02+09+Cow+Carcass+004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-7584206225804828622</id><published>2009-04-30T22:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T12:43:37.562-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love is in the Air</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When I arrived home from school this evening, April and the kids were out in the backyard doing some gardening in the mud. Since it has been raining off and on for the past two days the conditions are almost swamp-like, attracting many amphibious life forms. As they meddled through the weeds and plants, they happened upon a most intimate find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sfp2Mz1GT5I/AAAAAAAAADw/LbhHRQYzv_0/s1600-h/Frog+mating_edited-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sfp2Mz1GT5I/AAAAAAAAADw/LbhHRQYzv_0/s320/Frog+mating_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330703071389831058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Unaware of what was taking place, Cayanna told Caleb to pick up the frogs. "No," he responded, adding "they are mating." Justifying his position even more, he argued, "I don't want to disturb their romance!" Cayanna quipped back, "Then where is the music?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adding to the love that was already in the air, she then began to hum a little tune: "O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree! . . . "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-7584206225804828622?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/7584206225804828622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/04/love-is-in-air.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/7584206225804828622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/7584206225804828622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/04/love-is-in-air.html' title='Love is in the Air'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sfp2Mz1GT5I/AAAAAAAAADw/LbhHRQYzv_0/s72-c/Frog+mating_edited-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-8996927053138223999</id><published>2009-04-28T18:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T09:33:48.210-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Chasing Boston</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The rain just could not make up its mind. Unlike the humidity, which was constant and relatively high throughout the race, the rain was quite fickle and sporadic. At the starting line it greeted me with a light drizzle, then turned into a cool, soft mist several miles into the race, and reverted back to a drizzle before meeting me at the finish line with a downpour! Conditions such as these definitely make for a memorable run - especially when the shower sends a stinging reminder from every nook, cranny, and crevice that chafing (I mean, running) builds . . . character. The chafed nipples, though, do not build character so much as stir within an appreciation for those mothers who breastfeed a teething child! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SffCjWWuXwI/AAAAAAAAADo/NRI0MHZ01_4/s1600-h/St+Louis+Marathon+007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SffCjWWuXwI/AAAAAAAAADo/NRI0MHZ01_4/s320/St+Louis+Marathon+007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329942596568375042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Yes, I love running! The feeling of crossing the finish line after a long, hard-fought race is exquisite! The pain, the cramping, the exhaustion is all eclipsed by a deep sense of achievement, having just overcome the odds and all of the negative self-talk that slowly seeped into my awareness with each passing mile! My counter and source of motivation -- in fact, the very thought that pulled me through to the end -- was the image of April giving her ALL in laboring to bring our last child, Elias, into the world almost three months ago! The effect it had on me was real: the more I saw myself cheering her on and rallying around her for another successful delivery at home, the faster my pace became! In fact, it was this very image of seeing her squatting, pushing, being propped up with arms wrapped under hers -- me on one side and a good friend, Linda Martin, on the other . . . it was this image that my mind grabbed hold of, keeping me tethered to and focused on the finish line when everything in me screamed "I can't". In short, it was the force that propelled me through the impermeable "wall" at mile 24 and across the finish line in a record 3:41:32.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Though my time set a PR, it did not qualify me for Boston. In fact, I need to shave off 26 min before making the trip to the oldest and most prestigious marathon in the world. (The qualifying time for men 35-39 y/o is 3:15:59.) What that translates into is this: I need to run faster -- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;1 min &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt; per mile faster, to be exact. It is doable, I think. I am hopeful in the fact that I have already brought down my time considerably. Note the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 May 2006, Potomac River Run Marathon - 4:24:27&lt;br /&gt;29 Oct 2006, Marine Corps Marathon - 4:08:31&lt;br /&gt;21 April 2007, Salt Lake City Marathon - 4:00:14&lt;br /&gt;19 April 2009, Go! St Louis Marathon - 3:41:32&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has not even been ten days since the race and the feeling of euphoria has outlived the muscle soreness. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The excitement and challenge of chasing Boston has been rekindled&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;; and after taking several days off to recover, I have now resumed my training. Regardless of which marathon I run next, one thing that I look forward to as I run (and train for) another 26.2 miles is the rediscovery of the source of my motivation -- my wife! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-8996927053138223999?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/8996927053138223999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/04/still-chasing-boston.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8996927053138223999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8996927053138223999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/04/still-chasing-boston.html' title='Still Chasing Boston'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SffCjWWuXwI/AAAAAAAAADo/NRI0MHZ01_4/s72-c/St+Louis+Marathon+007.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-3170752190321253583</id><published>2009-04-15T07:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T09:33:06.472-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Girls; Cold Boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The following conversation is one more reason why eating dinner together is time well spent. If nothing else, it makes for great entertainment. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cayanna: "Mom, who is your favorite Pokemon character?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;April: "I don't know; I don't know them very well."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cayanna: "You know, [forgot his name] likes hot girls!]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Me: "He does? Why do you say that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cayanna: "Because he has heart eyes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;April: "What are heart eyes?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cayanna: "You know, when they look at someone and hearts go in their eyes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Me: "So what is a hot girl?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cayanna: "I don't know."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Caleb: "It is a beautiful girl."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Me: "You know, Caleb, one day you are going to marry a hot girl!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Caleb: "Oooh, no way! Babe is going to marry a hot boy."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Cayanna: "No, I won't; I will marry a cold one!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-3170752190321253583?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/3170752190321253583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/04/hot-chick-cold-boy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/3170752190321253583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/3170752190321253583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/04/hot-chick-cold-boy.html' title='Hot Girls; Cold Boy'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-983828769456458111</id><published>2009-04-02T23:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T07:25:30.288-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking the Oath of Office</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;Off we go into the wild blue yonder,&lt;br /&gt;Climbing high into the sun;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here they come zooming to meet our thunder, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 'em boys, Give 'er the gun! (Give 'er the gun now!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Down we dive, spouting our flame from under,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off with one helluva roar!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We live in fame or go down in flame. Hey!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SdWQzh0y23I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Fa0rhoTRO5o/s1600-h/Commissioned+-+USAF+012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SdWQzh0y23I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Fa0rhoTRO5o/s320/Commissioned+-+USAF+012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320317749735644018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The childhood memories of dressing up in Grandpa Merl's Marine garb are vivid. In the basement of his house was a lone room; and in that lone room was a closet; and behind that closet door lay hours of dress-up fun. So many outfits to wear, and so many battles to win! Given my size, I was not going to beat the enemy (my brother and, often times, cousins) on sheer strength but on stratagem. Even back then, my romanticization of the heroics of war was not entirely found in the bloodbath that often occupies it, but mostly in the fight for the cause that is bigger than life itself, namely, that of freedom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Now fast forward some 10 or so years to Fort Hamilton, Brooklyn, NY (1995): Just after moving to New York, I found myself walking in to the recruiting office on Amsterdam Avenue &amp;amp; 65th Street to complete what I had already started in Salt Lake. After a fine display of my acrobatic abilities (i.e., jumping through a mess load of red tape), I was finally given clearance to enlist in the active reserve Army. After a dreadfully long day at MEPS in Fort Hamilton, I clearly recall the awful feeling that came over me when reviewing my contract. It was palpable, unbearable, making my stomach twist and turn and cramp up inside. It was a feeling devoid of all excitement and adventure; yet, it was filled with a caveat and regret. When I asked the officer that sat across from me on the other side of the desk if I could have some time -- just a day or two -- to mull it over before signing, he assured me that if I did not sign now I would not sign at all. He was right . . . and yet he was wrong!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SdWQzrw_nEI/AAAAAAAAADY/XGpru34XKKc/s1600-h/Commissioned+-+USAF+014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SdWQzrw_nEI/AAAAAAAAADY/XGpru34XKKc/s320/Commissioned+-+USAF+014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320317752404057154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Fulfilling my latent and childhood desire to serve my country, yesterday I swore to "support and defend the constitution of the United States" as an officer in the United States Air Force. Yes, I have joined the military and it is official! There is no looking back now; no regrets, no caveats to negotiate and justify away, and no visceral knots to untie. Such a contrast from the experience I had previously! The starkness of the contrast serves as a reminder that making the right decision, especially in terms of one's own life-direction, is as much dependent upon timing as it is principle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-983828769456458111?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/983828769456458111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/04/taking-oath-of-office.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/983828769456458111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/983828769456458111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/04/taking-oath-of-office.html' title='Taking the Oath of Office'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SdWQzh0y23I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Fa0rhoTRO5o/s72-c/Commissioned+-+USAF+012.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-9195623393448911051</id><published>2009-03-28T13:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T15:08:51.219-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Size is Not Always Better</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Question: what do weeks of failed experiments of running rats on the treadmill yield?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Answer: the following observation -- rats have disproportionally large testicles!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sc50_72XQ1I/AAAAAAAAADI/kyS08sNF0Wo/s1600-h/03+14+09+012_edited-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sc50_72XQ1I/AAAAAAAAADI/kyS08sNF0Wo/s320/03+14+09+012_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318316851717423954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;After observing the enormity of their testicles for the past year, the budding researcher &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;(and the avid, concerned runner) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;in me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; asked the following question: what percent of total body mass do rat testicles comprise? So, during the past several weeks, in addition to carrying out my original experimental design, I have learned the following: that rat testicles constitute, on average, 2.1% of their total body mass (n=7). Shocking, I know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how does that translate for humans? Assuming that the same ratio existed for a 200 lb man, for example, then that man -- unfortunate as it is -- would be schlepping around 4.2 lbs of testicles!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; To help you appreciate the sheer weight of 4.2 lbs, consider having to schlep &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;between your legs &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;(for life, that is) one of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13 baseballs&lt;br /&gt;10 softballs&lt;br /&gt;22 CDs in standard jewel cases&lt;br /&gt;9 VHS tapes in cardboard cases&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;a 5 lb bag of sugar minus several cups&lt;br /&gt;a 2 liter bottle of your favorite soda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Research does not always lead to application, but does at times stir a greater sense of appreciation -- for all things both great and small! Likewise, as a runner who does not like the chronic chafing that often accompanies a long run, this serendipitous rodent observation helps me appreciate the fact that size is not always better!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-9195623393448911051?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/9195623393448911051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/03/size-is-not-always-better.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/9195623393448911051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/9195623393448911051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/03/size-is-not-always-better.html' title='Size is Not Always Better'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sc50_72XQ1I/AAAAAAAAADI/kyS08sNF0Wo/s72-c/03+14+09+012_edited-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-3518560734194507181</id><published>2009-03-19T23:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T08:30:32.385-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heroes: A Child's Perspective</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Upon arriving home yesterday evening, April showed me the following pictures that both Caleb (8 y/o) and Cayanna (6 1/2 y/o) had drawn earlier that day during school. Their assignment was to draw a picture of a hero, without any prior discussion as to what a hero is and who it is that might be one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ScMnskMMWyI/AAAAAAAAACo/779J9QHT-QI/s1600-h/Cayanna+-+Heroes+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ScMnskMMWyI/AAAAAAAAACo/779J9QHT-QI/s320/Cayanna+-+Heroes+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315135631809862434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hero #1 (Cayanna): &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;a self-portrait &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;of Cayanna winning the race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ScMdQMZ7ZYI/AAAAAAAAACA/149F-5YMGig/s1600-h/Caleb+-+Heroes+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ScMdQMZ7ZYI/AAAAAAAAACA/149F-5YMGig/s320/Caleb+-+Heroes+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315124149272405378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hero #2 (Caleb): Science - "Is this dad dissecting the rat?" "No, it is just a man."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ScMoaEHqdKI/AAAAAAAAACw/FfmaGoGNzyc/s1600-h/Cayanna+-+Heroes+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ScMoaEHqdKI/AAAAAAAAACw/FfmaGoGNzyc/s320/Cayanna+-+Heroes+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315136413474911394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hero #3 (Cayanna): the horse's tail has fallen off; this person is stapling it back on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ScMp9KVB1qI/AAAAAAAAAC4/DeD0a0m7I14/s1600-h/Caleb+-+Heroes+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ScMp9KVB1qI/AAAAAAAAAC4/DeD0a0m7I14/s320/Caleb+-+Heroes+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315138115948631714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hero #4 (Caleb): a fireman putting out the fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ScMqRhLIsMI/AAAAAAAAADA/OlqL8UgVtpM/s1600-h/Cayanna+-+Heroes+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ScMqRhLIsMI/AAAAAAAAADA/OlqL8UgVtpM/s320/Cayanna+-+Heroes+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315138465678536898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hero #5 (Cayanna): this person (upper left corner) is helping save the baby who is being sacrificed by these people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-3518560734194507181?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/3518560734194507181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/03/heroes-childs-perspective.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/3518560734194507181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/3518560734194507181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/03/heroes-childs-perspective.html' title='Heroes: A Child&apos;s Perspective'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/ScMnskMMWyI/AAAAAAAAACo/779J9QHT-QI/s72-c/Cayanna+-+Heroes+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-6657989422065214231</id><published>2009-03-05T05:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T06:46:15.676-06:00</updated><title type='text'>FINALLY - the Boy has a Name!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sa_InKm5roI/AAAAAAAAABM/oWMx6De6_ZM/s1600-h/02+28+09+024.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sa_InKm5roI/AAAAAAAAABM/oWMx6De6_ZM/s320/02+28+09+024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309683060881075842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;After 3 weeks of deliberation, the boy has finally been given a name: Elias (Eli) Storm. Elias is of Hebrew origin (as might be suspected), and "has been placed on many persons &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;as a title pertaining to both preparatory and restorative functions". About a week or so before his birth, April had this overwhelming sense that this child would bring "balance" to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;our family; or, to say it another way, that he would "re&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;store" balance to the Force. (With 4 boys, any reference made to Star Wars is almost a guaranteed win!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The middle name Storm has a twofold meaning: one, labor w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;as just that - a stormy and unpredictable ride (an intense 20 plus hours that hinged on the possibility of transferring to the hospital); and two, a short yet powerful display of Nature'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;s Force - a thunder and lightening storm - that occurred just shortly after his birth!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We appreciate all of the suggestions that people made. Here are a few of the names that were in the running up until the very end: Elijah Storm, Ultimo (as in final or last), LastKid Day, and Keep 'em Coming!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sa_Inq-IL2I/AAAAAAAAABU/hFwihiR1zqc/s1600-h/02+28+09+026.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sa_Inq-IL2I/AAAAAAAAABU/hFwihiR1zqc/s320/02+28+09+026.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309683069568429922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Since joining the fold, he has become quite the distractio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;n - for everyone. And he definitely does not go without attention or affection, especially from his lone sister. Needless to say, he is a big reason why our to-do list has only grown the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;se past several weeks to insurmountable lengths. But now th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;at we have settled upon a name, the list does not seem quite as exhaustive. In fact, if we allow momentum to work in our favor, then we will soon be able to cross off one other item from our list: filling out his birth certificate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-6657989422065214231?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/6657989422065214231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/03/finally-boy-has-name.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/6657989422065214231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/6657989422065214231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/03/finally-boy-has-name.html' title='FINALLY - the Boy has a Name!'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/Sa_InKm5roI/AAAAAAAAABM/oWMx6De6_ZM/s72-c/02+28+09+024.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-8229224052213169149</id><published>2009-02-06T13:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T16:28:10.625-06:00</updated><title type='text'>An Opportunity of a Lifetime</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;While &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;trying to stomach the awkward silence that often accompanies church service on the first Sunday of the month (which is typically referred to by Mormons as "fast and testimony" Sunday), &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Caleb leaned over to me and said, "I think I want to get up and say something to the people."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you know what you want to talk about?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I want to talk about Joseph Smith."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That sounds good," I replied, nodding my head in agreement. Then, I added, "and may be you could tell everyone about the Sacred Grove and how you felt while visiting it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"May be you should!" he challenged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I can't!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why not?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because I am teaching in Elder's Quorum today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I fumbled through my reasoning, two words came to mind: lame excuse! As I sat there in the pew listening to him share with a 150 plus congregants his feelings about Joseph Smith (which, by the way, did not include the experience he had while visiting the Sacred Grove), my mind drifted to the discussion I had with Elder &amp;amp; Sister Virgin just two days prior while visiting with them in Nauvoo. They shared with me how the Church is planning to construct a Visitor's Center adjacent to the Temple, on the north side of the front entrance, opposite side of the road. The rationale: curious passers-by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;will &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;typically stop at the Temple to admire its beauty and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;architecture and to ask questions. Their visit typically ends with an invitation to visit the main (and only) Visitor's Center that is just a 1/4 mile down the hill, if that. Very few actually make it there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Hence the need for a second Visitor's Center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The significance of that story lies in the willingness of the Church to invest a substantial amount of time, resources, and energy into the construction of a seco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;nd Visitor's Center. To what end? My thought is that the Church recognizes there is a very short window of opportunity to plant seeds among those who have been struck by the Temple in some way, enough to where they have delayed their travels to inquire about this anomalous and curious structure! All this, I believe, is an attempt to "seize the opportunity of a lifetime" while the "lifetime of an opportunity" is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;at hand&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caleb returned to the bench, smiling, yet sober - for he had just challenged everyone to share with others the story of Joseph Smith and how he had translated the Book of Mormon. Next to him sat his father, who was being consumed by thoughts of . . . missed opportunities!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several minutes later, I s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;tood up, made my way to the aisle, and walked towards the stand. After sharing with the 150 plus congregants my feelings about Joseph Smith and the events that occurred within the Sacred Grove, I rejoined my family on the bench. Smiling and proud, Caleb leaned over and said, "Thanks Dad! That was a nice story!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-8229224052213169149?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/8229224052213169149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/02/opportunity-of-lifetime.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8229224052213169149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8229224052213169149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/02/opportunity-of-lifetime.html' title='An Opportunity of a Lifetime'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1761145739741606025.post-8844970161631377194</id><published>2009-02-04T00:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T21:23:33.083-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Nauvoo: the Mecca of Mormonism</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:85%;" &gt;This past Friday after meeting with our midwife we took a little road trip to Nauvoo, IL. While there, April and I had the chance to attend the Temple. Perhaps just as insightful as the Temple itself was my visit with the senior missionary couple (Elder &amp;amp; Sister Virgin) while waiting for April to rejoin the kids and me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:85%;" &gt;at the accommodation center&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:85%;" &gt;. We spoke of the Nauvoo IL Temple as being a destination temple, one where people travel from all over the world just to attend, to claim and re-claim as their own one of the great narratives in American history,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; to renew their faith, to walk the streets of the City of Joseph. It is a pilgrimage to the Mecca of Mormonism! People come from all over with the expectation of having an experience - in particular, having an experience with the Divine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like there are very few that leave this sacred site disappointed; and I am not quite sure if it is a result of being in the midst of the site itself (i.e., the preeminence of Nauvoo and its Temple in Mormon history and culture) or of the mindset people have when visiting. Regardless, for me the lesson here seems to be one of preparedness, training oneself to expect (and experience) the best, and passionately pursuing the realization of those expectations! It is, after all, one's mindset or attitude that will ultimately determine the outcome of their experience!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The timing of this lesson is impeccable. (And, yes, it seems like I, too, have had "an experience" while visiting Nauvoo.) We are expecting number five to join our family in a matter of days (40 wks on February 7), and the baby as of now is presenting breech. If the four previous births we have had is a preview of what is to come, then it is reasonable to expect an experience with the Divine is forthcoming. My only concern: that ingratitude and self-absorption does not breach this newly acquired mindset!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1761145739741606025-8844970161631377194?l=worthington-splittime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/feeds/8844970161631377194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/02/nauvoo-mecca-of-mormonism-and-more.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8844970161631377194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1761145739741606025/posts/default/8844970161631377194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://worthington-splittime.blogspot.com/2009/02/nauvoo-mecca-of-mormonism-and-more.html' title='Nauvoo: the Mecca of Mormonism'/><author><name>Bart</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05792892078968187802</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jWYiTEE7Rv4/SbjveMNQYuI/AAAAAAAAABg/0OX6hPmyA2g/S220/Aug+04+2007+St+Louis+Zoo+005+crop.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
