The Gathering Storm

So, I think Robert Jordan's death was definitely the best thing that could have happened for the Wheel of Time series. I'm about 90% of the way through The Gathering Storm and, amazingly, have yet to pass through a long and boring section of any sort. Action-packed through and through, and every character I care about has major developments. I haven't had this many real "oh my gosh, this is cool" moments since Lord of Chaos, way back in book 6 (although cleansing saidin was pretty cool). Looking forward to the next book with bated breath.

Speaking of which, "bated" means "moderated or restrained," but I never hear it used in any other context than "bated breath." Perhaps I could use it differently, just for variety. I plan on brushing my teeth soon with bated bad breath.

Mark It With a "W"

When I was in the MTC my companion's name was Elder Wald. We decided early on that it made sense, given our small volume of total laundry, to combine our clothing into one load. Of course, since it mostly consisted of near-identical white items, we needed to mark the tags with our initial.

Ever since I was a kid I have used W as my marking initial, J being too ubiquitous a letter for practical use in our household. Accordingly, I marked all my clothing with a W without thinking too much of it. Imagine our collective frustration and amusement when Elder Wald and I later attempted to sort our clothingstuffs.

Trip from Orem

So, this Thanksgiving our Knight relatives came to dinner at my parents' house, and it reminded me of a story from when Alison and I were dating. Here it goes.

After I returned from my mission, Alison and I started into some serious dating-ness. I would commute down to Provo (Alison was at BYU at the time), stay overnight at the Knights' house in Orem, and go back home. Diane gave me a key to the house one time when I was down there and told me to just let myself in. Well, Alison and I spent a long time together and I started toward Orem from BYU at about 4:30 am. At 5:00 I was at the Knights' house with a key that didn't work. I didn't want to wake them up to get in, and it was very cold (it was March, I think) so I didn't want to sleep in the car. I put some gas in the car and started for home as a gentle snow began to fall.

By the time I got to the freeway, that gentle snowfall was quickly turning into a blizzard. Luckily for me, I was tired enough that it didn't matter much. In fact, I think I slept most of the way home. I would wake up, notice I had changed lanes or was going 85 miles per hour, slow down and change back, all in a swirling storm with almost no visibility. Then I would drift back off into slumberland. I arrived at my parents' house at 6 am, went downstairs and dropped into bed. I'm positive that someone else was driving the car that morning, because I think my surviving was highly statistically significant.

I wrote Alison an email the next day and told her what had happened, expecting I guess that she would share my amusement at how I didn't die in a fiery wreck. Imagine my surprise when she was upset at my lack of foresight. I suppose she would have objected to her near-fiancee dying horribly.

There have been a couple other times in my life when I know I have been preserved. It makes me wonder for what. Most of those wondering times end with my being certain that whatever potential future I was saved for, I'm not anywhere close to meeting it.

Exciting Plans

Well, I just got back from my orthopedist's office, and have made plans for surgery. I will be going in on Tuesday for an ACL revision (cadaver patellar graft). He will try to repair the meniscus at the same time; if it can't be repaired they will take it out. If they can repair it, I will be off my foot for six weeks. If they have to take it out, my recovery will be faster but my osteoarthritis will progress faster as well (with my eventual knee replacement coming sooner).

I'm nervous about the surgery because it's a big unknown. Once I'm asleep I will have no control over what happens. I worry about complications. I worry about reacting to anesthesia. I worry about how my family will handle my recovery and my lack of contribution. I worry about what will happen with my job and our finances. With all this worrying, I'm sure anyway that things will work out the way they are supposed to, no matter what happens. I wish I could accept that with more faith.

Insult to Injury

To begin with, a bit of history. In early 2000, my ACL was torn in a soccer game. One major surgery later, I began a mostly sedentary lifestyle. Seven years later, my ACL graft failed (the next time I played soccer) and I have been ACL-deficient ever since. I got an ACL brace at that time, which I have used more or less consistently when I have done anything active.

This last Friday the 13th, I joined a friend to play some Ultimate Frisbee. I had been playing for half an hour with no problems, then I kicked off for the first time and my knee twisted. 10 days later, I still can't really walk or straighten my leg.

I went to see the orthopedic surgeon today who saw me in 2007, and it looks like my future holds at least one surgery. My options are not looking great at this point. I have an MRI tomorrow to see what the exact problem is (likely something with my meniscus). The results will dictate what correction needs to be taken. Regardless of the outcome though, the MD says if I don't get my ACL repaired again my knee will always be unstable, which will just increase the damage to other structures. If there is a meniscus tear that can be repaired, not having an ACL repair at the same time will make the meniscus repair a temporary thing. An ACL repair will involve six weeks of no weight bearing, i.e. no work, plus more time for physical therapy.

If I get the surgery done right away, I will use up my insurance deductible and my max out of pocket right at the end of the year, which would be totally lame. So, I would like to try and just not walk on it much (use crutches) until the beginning of the year. However, I only have 80 hours (3 1/2 weeks) of extended care leave (ECL) I can use, and HR won't let me work on crutches, so I won't be able to wait because I need the ECL for recovery; either that, or I will be going against my doctor's advice and working on my leg from now until January. We have already used up our flex spending money for this year, and we can't use next year's for expenses from this year, so we would have to pay for it all now. Plus, if I wait until next year I will run into next semester, when I will have more clinicals I need to do, which would be difficult without being able to walk.

So, basically, the best thing to do financially will be to wait until early next year to have surgery. What will probably happen if I need surgery will be that I will need to do it right now. Very lame. Wouldn't it be great to have a whole year with no deductible or copays? On the other hand, if it is done now, the MRI will have eaten up a lot of my out-of-pocket maximum already so if the surgery is done this year it will cost me a lot less.

Anyway, this is all speculation right now. I don't really know what is wrong yet. There is a very small chance I can just put off surgery. The good news is that, if I have surgery done at Davis Hospital and pay up front, the most this whole thing will cost me is $1500.

What a mess. I'm not entirely sure what we're going to be doing about this, but I'm sure things will work out for the best. However, I'm looking at the rest of my life without ever playing any competitive sports again, which is depressing.

If this post seems somewhat distracted, it's because I am trying to type while I watch Beauty and the Beast with Isaac. You'd think it would be the toddler I'd blame for my distraction, but I really love this movie. Plus, in the scene where the Beast saves Belle from the wolves in the snow, Belle is totally hot. Belle was my dream girl for forever.

Financial Bonds

So, we just spent the last 2 hours doing our budget for the next 2 weeks (this time was greatly delayed by our mutual fatigue and distraction from Show Tune Saturday Night). Well, due to a small reduction in income we find ourselves with a budget deficit of about $16. I, with an impressive display of intelligence and wit, stated that we should issue Johnsen Family Bonds and try selling them to China.

I think this may have been a lot more amusing at the time. And in my head.

Alison wants me to make sure you don't think I want your money. We all know this isn't true. I love money. In fact, remember the money I took from you that one time? Now I wish I'd taken a lot more. Then, we wouldn't be trying to learn Chinese.

Decisions, Decisions

So, it's been a long time since I've posted anything here, and with good reason...it's hard to type when all your fingers have been crushed in an industrial accident, and it's hard to see a computer screen when you've been blinded with battery acid. It's also hard to feel the keyboard when you have a rare degenerative neuromuscular disease, and even harder if that disease began with the bite of an infected rodent which unexpectedly gnawed off part of your frontal lobe, making it very difficult to keep track of what you are supposed to be doing from moment to moment.

Oh, wait, I thought the title of this post was "Excuses, Excuses." I suppose I'll save all that for another day, then, and talk about what's been happening lately which has prompted me to write.

My academic turning points generally come without much warning. I was preparing for pharmacy school when Caleb got sick and I felt like I should go into nursing instead. Applications were due only a couple months after he died, and the only school I applied to was Weber State. After I got my RN, I took the summer off and then decided I should go for my BSN. I found out that BYU-Idaho had an application deadline a week later for a January start, applied, was rejected (and let me tell you, THAT was a shock - I had never been rejected for anything before that I could remember) and then received notice that more spots had opened and I was accepted after all. I graduated this last April and had my eye on a Master's degree, but none of the schools seemed right at the time; Alison did some hunting online and discovered that Westminster had an application deadline coming up for their MSN program and that they cater to working nurses. I scrambled to turn in my application and get all my recommendation letters and background checks and drug test arranged, then was called in for an interview.

I prepared for the interview by avoiding thinking too hard about it; there were a few questions I was dreading because they are so hard to answer. Why do you want to be a nurse practitioner? Why should we consider you before other qualified applicants? What are your greatest strengths and weaknesses? Of course, they all came up, along with a few curveballs, but the interview went well and a couple of weeks later I found out I had been accepted. So, I'm off to nursing school for the third (and hopefully last) time.

Here's where the title of the post comes in. Ever since I graduated from nursing school (the first time) and started working as a nurse, I have loved having nursing students work with me. I love answering questions and watching that light turn on when they make connections and understand things in a different way. I try to be the nurse who takes time to make sure they understand not just what they are supposed to do, but why. Since I started working at SDCH, I have had that opportunity many times, and I have thought that it would be very rewarding to be a clinical instructor. That dream was out of reach because it is only available to nurses with an MSN, or who are currently working on an MSN. I mentioned that in my interview (I'm not sure in response to which question) and was enthusiastic enough about it that one of the interviewers said I sounded perfect for the MSN-Ed program. The problem, as I told her, is that I am passionate about teaching, but I don't do well in a formal teaching situation. I don't picture myself enjoying structured lesson plans and the rigors of a structured academic setting. So, I declined, but told her that I wold love to explore becoming a clinical instructor this fall.

Well, it turns out that that interviewer is the undergraduate Med/Surg instructor, and she is in charge of the undergraduate clinical program. She only did three interviews for this year's admits (including mine), and she told me to look her up if I was admitted. I called after I got notice that I had been accepted, and she asked for us to meet, which we did; in short, she recommended me for the clinical instructor opening they have for this fall, and after a meeting with the dean I was hired.

The interviews were interesting for a couple of reasons. For one, I am not used to the treatment I received during those two meetings. I felt like I was being approached not as an immature student (as was so often the case at WSU, for example), but as a peer. There was no condescension, and it was almost shocking afterward to realize that I was thought well enough of to be offered a teaching position after just twenty minutes of total interview time. I know I present myself well in interview situations, but it almost seemed like a trick at first.

The problem is that ever since that interview I've had this nagging feeling that I'm making a mistake. The dean was very open about the fact that graduate school is not like the Bachelor's program, and that I should be sure I won't overextend myself and that I have enough of a support system to handle the strain. I will be dropping down to three days a week at work starting in September, but I'll have class all day on Wednesdays, so essentially doing the clinical rotation would leave me with no full days to dedicate just to study. But, on the other hand, I talked to a (CNA) clinical instructor at work and she said you have plenty of study time while you are there. I spent a week thinking about the pro/con list and it seemed to about event out, but that nagging feeling was still there.

Anyway, it's time to digress for a story. A long time ago, a separatist/reformist group called the Waldensians was formed in the Piemonte region of Italy. Their headquarters today are still there, in a little town called Torre Pellice. LDS missionaries worked there for a time, but haven't been there for many years. Anyway, while I was at the MTC I met Anziano Collings, who was my district leader. I consider him to be one of the greatest people I have ever met, one with whom I have felt lucky to associate. While I was on my mission, President Henderson announced that a pair of missionaries would be sent to Torre Pellice to reopen the city for missionary work. Anz. Collings ended up there. It was an exciting time for all of us in the mission. During our next round of interviews with President Henderson, he told me that the Lord intended for one of two things to happen: either I would be sent to Toree Pellice to work with Anz. Collings, or I would be made a zone leader. He told me, essentially, that it was up to me to decide which I should do. I could think of nothing which would make me happier than to go to Torre Pellice with one of my favorite people, but I knew that the Lord intended for me to make the other choice, that it was where I could do the most good. When I told President Henderson this, he gave a knowing sort of nod and I became a zone leader soon thereafter.

I have had similar feelings in relation to the clinical instructor position. Ever since last Monday when I accepted the job I've had this nagging feeling that I shouldn't do it. It's one of my goals in life, and something I know I'd love, but as I was talking it over with a few people I just couldn't come to any solid conclusions. I had a long conversation with Alison about this yesterday and when we were done talking I realized that I already knew what the answer was, I just didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to defer this long-desired goal if it was within reach. But, after I decided to turn down the position the inner turmoil subsided, and after I call the dean's secretary (the dean herself was out of town) I felt peaceful about it. Actually, I felt a strong enough "you've made the right decision" confirmation that I almost cried, but it was bittersweet. It looks like I'll be waiting until I have my MSN before I'll be able to have a clinical group; perhaps in the interim there will be some impromptu teaching moments in my path.

Is it a bad thing, I wonder, that I accept these things with remorse? It indicates to me that my level of trust could use some improvement. Is this resistance indicative of personal progress to be made, or is it just a part of the mortal condition with which we all must cope? Either way, I figure that the important thing right now is that I am willing to accept my course, even if at first I am stubborn about it.

I wander down the lane of recognition of my own mortality staring me in the face, then I write about it

So, Alison told me a somewhat amusing story today.  She said that as she and the boys were leaving the house, Aaron turned to back down off the porch earlier than was necessary and was backing off in the direction of the bushes.  "Nice try, sucka!" says my toddler.  Apparently (and this is the amusing back story, as I learned later), he has a father (who shall remain unnamed) who says just that phrase to not just his kids, but just about anyone to whom it could apply.  Always in a spirit of jest, of course, but it turns out it may not be the best role to model.  Also, Alison tells me that it was a very sincere message of encouragement (along the lines of "nice try, you'll do better next time, my dear brother)...it just happened to have that "sucka" tacked onto the end.

In other news, his father (um, the other one, not me, of course; my speech is always impeccably proper) apparently also calls just about everyone a cheater when they do something mildly incorrect.  Even - if you can believe this - if they are not actually cheating.

I was alone with the kids tonight while Alison attended Ye Olde Birthday Bash for the RS.  I was tired today, but convinced that I could bridle my apparently-always-simmering annoyance with what I fatiguedly characterize as the willful disobedience of my toddler.  You know, because at almost three years of age his memory is perfect and his reasoning is flawless, and he should KNOW that because I told him a couple days ago that the blinds are off limits for play, touching them today is a no-no.  Also, he should be able to reason his way out of actions such as sitting on his baby brother.  My cognitive assent to his limitations notwithstanding, my emotions always seem to be just out of my control.  Today my son cried for the first time in what I know is a direct result of my yelling at him, and I wanted to crawl into a hole and bury myself afterward.  It was over something stupid, but I had been building up little pockets of irritation that combined into one big ugly abscess of anger and boiled over onto his poor littleness.  When he was safely eating his green beans, I tried to make it all better by apologizing.  "I'm sorry, bud.  I know Heavenly Father is sad when I yell at you.  I'll try to do better.  Do you forgive me?"  A timid yet hopeful "yes" and a big hug later, he is on his way to forgetting and I am still close to tears.  I can't be the only parent who has problems controlling him/herself with a little boy around, but I always expected better things of myself.  It turns out that, contrary to my previously held belief, I am capable of large amounts of anger.  I just needed a child to help me realize how much more self-control I still need to develop to reach the point of godhood.

On the other hand, my capacity for patiently enduring all sorts of difficulty with reasonable adults is unflagging.  Hooray!  Sometimes I think I am a much better charge nurse than I am a parent.  But, I guess nobody is expecting to inherit the position of Big Charge Nurse In The Sky if they play their cards right.  There's a reason, I think, that parenthood is meant to be the most challenging thing we ever undertake.

I am in one of those moods where I could keep typing all night, kind of like when you get home from a long day at work, stumble around for a couple of hours, and then go to bed and decide that what you'd like most is to keep your spouse awake for a couple hours with chit-chat.  Unfortunately for all two of you, you cheaters make a poor substitute for my spouse.  Nice try, suckas!

Memories

I begin typing this while our most excellent local friends, the Gambrells, commence their journying toward our cozy little abode, and my toddler stands next to me attempting valiantly to hinder my typing.  Speaking of our largest bundle of joy, this post is about him.  Specifically, I would like to put down a few of the more endearing things he has said to us lately.

On of the things I love most about being a parent (and there are many) is the fact that my kids make me laugh just about every single day; Aaron accomplishes this just by being cute and Isaac does it by coming up with the most hilarious things to say.  He has a manner of approach to me which is difficult to resist.  Every night when I put him in his bed he looks up at me with this little smile on his face and says "You leave the door open?"  If I say no, he will say, "You give me a last chance?  I want a last chance!" I rarely resist.

Here are a few little episodes I wanted to record.  I don't think they will be nearly as amusing written as they were experienced, but they will trigger memories for me when I read them again.

A few weeks ago Isaac pulled a piece of junk mail out of the recycle bin and declared that it was his wings.  "Fly! Fly! Fly!" he shouted, running around the house holding the paper in front of him.  Occasionally he does this while flapping his arms, and for a while he declared that he was Batman.

We made chocolate chip cookies and Isaac sat in front of the cooling rack.  He picked up a measuring tape and began pulling it out and holding it next to a cookie.  When we asked what he was doing, he said, "measuring how much I love cookies."

We were putting on our shoes once, and I was talking to Alison while Isaac asked me if I had any boots.  He got tired of waiting for me to pay attention and said loudly, "You stop talking and talk a me about your boots."

Pottyings were happening in the bathroom once and Isaac  said, "You see the peepee?  You see the water?  You see the little mermaid?"  During the same pottying session Isaac looked up to me and said, "My not have hair on my cheeks or in my armpits...my gonna shaver my hair off."

Isaac likes to contradict things we say that he doesn't like, as if simply negating them will make them untrue.  For example, once I was explaining to him that the batteries in a toy were dead and he said, "No, sorry dad.  They're not."  He does that all the time and I think it's adorable.

We were eating dinner one night soon after Christmas and Isaac had received one of those Nerf over-the-door basketball hoops.  He left the table, telling us not to eat his food, and went to his room.  We heard him playing in there and every once in a while he would yell, "You not throw away my food!  My play basket-hoop!"  I went in that night and shot a few hoops with him, and when I made one he yelled "Yaaay!  BYU!"

On Sunday and Monday mornings I get to be home for breakfast.  We keep Isaac's door closed at night and a child-resistant handle on the inside of the room, so after he wakes up he will yell for us to come open the door.  One particular Sunday morning Alison and I were both very sleepy, so he called several times.  "Daddy!  Daddy!  You come open my door?"  After I still hadn't come, he yelled, "Jordan!  You open my door?"  When I asked him why he had called for me by name, he said, "That's Daddy's other name."

We went to the Bean museum at BYU and watched a video that included a bear eating a dead bison.  Isaac said, "There's chicken!"

One night we were doing bedtime kisses and when Isaac was about to kiss Alison's cheek, he coughed on her instead.  He then said, "that was an Isaac coughing kiss."

We were eating at Nana and Poppy's house and I was about to take the last strawberry off the fruit plate, upon which there were a few apple slices.  Isaac reached up and pulled the apples off and put them on my plate.  "You eat the apples," he said, helping himself to the strawberry.

I love my kids.  Aaron said "Hi, dad" on command once after I got home from a long day at work and it was heart-melting.  I love sticking tongues out at each other and chasing and tickling, and I think it's cute when Isaac tries to convince me to let him have another cookie or stay up late.  I can't believe how much joy there really is in being a parent.

Goals

So, I was inspired by a relative's blog to write down my list of goals for the year, as presently constituted.  I already had these set and have been working on them with moderate success.  I was inspired to divide my own list into classes of health: physical, spiritual, mental, social, and altruistic.

For my physical goals, I will be trying to lose 12 pounds this year (one each month).  I think this is fairly realistic.  I will primarily be trying to reduce the snacks I eat.  I also have a goal to be able to do all the routines in my yoga DVD; to that end, I have been stretching every day at work on my break.  By the end of September I should be able to touch the ground from a standing position.  I am trying to do yoga three times per week.  I am trying to drink more water by finishing my 2 L bottle every day, but so far I am only averaging about 1.5 L.

My spiritual goals are not especially profound.  I have been reading one chapter in the BOM per week (not one time necessarily, I just focus on one chapter and then switch to the next the following week).  I am in 2 Nephi 2 this week.  I want to read the whole BOM in Spanish this year to help me learn, so I need to average 1.78 pages per day (I am ahead right now).  I was also just called to teach the 13- and 14-year-olds in Sunday School, and I have a goal to read the lesson the week before so I can think about it during the week, and pray for each of my students individually every day.

For my mental development, I am working on memorization.  This year I would like to memorize all the soliloquys in Hamlet.  It is only about six lines per week.  I will also (soon, I hope) set goals to work on calculus and chemistry.

Socially, I don't have any fixed goals, but we are trying to have more people over to visit and call/write more often to those we love.  I also have a goal to write in my journal or blog at least every week.

I want to focus on doing something crafty or project-ish for someone every month.  I will be making rings for a coworker and his almost-fiancee next month maybe; for this month, I need to finish Aaron's pull toy and Alison's meal ideas calendar.

So, there you go.  It seems like there were more of them but they aren't coming immediately to mind, and I have to work on the budget for a while.

From Love Spring Forth All These Things

So, I know it's been a long time since I have posted, so I should post the New Year's letter to Caleb or the cute things my kids are doing or some profound thoughts, but instead I thought I would post some pictures of projects I have done either to get Alison to notice me (in the case of the earlier ones) or get Alison not to stop noticing me (in the case of the later ones). These are roughly in chronological order. Not pictured are a serious of increasingly better-made roses crafted from Mamba candy sculpted with a miniature ruler (they fell apart or were *ahem* thrown away unknowingly during a freezer clean-out), and a picture of Alison I drew. So, without further ado...

Back when we were in high school, Alison and I were in a large choir class together. Although she was next to me in concert order (which led to some hand-holding later on), I routinely sat a few rows in front of her. I liked to draw and had attempted a couple rather clumsy portraits in the past, and I opened my yearbook to find girls I thought would be good to do in pencil. Alison's face was one of the ones which stood out, especially with that gorgeous and still-captivating hair, so I drew her picture and passed it back one day during choir. The hours spent shading her upper lip* got me noticing her more than I had in the past, and in an effort to get her attention I began sending back/taking to her house little projects. I didn't get a picture of that drawing, and I really don't like looking at it now because it isn't perfect, so it isn't included here. While I'm on the subject of art, I also didn't get a picture of a pencil drawing I did of Caleb's hand holding Christ's hand that I gave Alison for Mother's Day in 2005.

I was getting into woodworking on a small scale, so I began making little objects out of balsa wood. Back then, the only tools I had to work with were one of those snap-off razor blade knives, sandpaper, and wood glue. The first few were weapon-themed; don't ask me why. Here are a broadsword and a halberd, each about four inches long.

I tried mortise-and-tenon and rabbet joining with this fine 3-inch chair. I think I was also up until about 2 am on a school night working on it.


I gave Alison this set around Easter of our senior year, and the note it came with was detached so she thought it was a crucifixion kit, which understandably was just a bit disturbing. In fact, it's a vampire killing kit. I think the mallet is about an inch long.

The summer after graduation I worked at the Phillips Petroleum refinery in Woods Cross, and one of my coworkers showed me some trees he was making out of copper wire. He showed me the basics, gave me some wire and started it for me, and I added some telephone wire to make this sort-of bonsai.
This one is just a Burger King kid's meal toy to which I added a balsa Book of Mormon. I gave this to her before I left, and technically it wasn't inspired by her since I made it before I really knew her.
A had also made this heart from lava rock before I really met Alison, but I gave it to her so I suppose it belongs in this post.
I rode almost three miles each way to get the materials to make this ring, which I used to propose to Alison in my apartment on May 2, 2008. We like to tell the other proposal story (when I used the diamond ring) because it's a better story (it involves my car headlights and paper cutouts of a Mitsubishi Eclipse and the moon), but I like this ring better because I made it.I made this card out of construction paper while we were engaged. If you can't read it, the outside says "My hands may be freezing..."
and the inside says "...but my heart burns for you!" You can't really tell from the picture, but the little heart pops out when the coat is opened. The card reflects the outfit I was wearing the day I made it.The park bench and lamppost (it's not a virus, I promise, although it sort of looks like one) were on the top of our wedding cake and were made from some sort of wire. Benches and lampposts have significance for us, which we could explain upon request.

This next one is the most special to me. While Caleb was sick, I had an image of this carving pop into my mind even though I knew I had nowhere near the skill to actually make it. I blocked it out anyway with my sad little tools, then for Christmas a couple years after I had the idea Alison gave me some carving tools for Christmas, and I was able to do the figures. I finished the base after my excellent coworker Russ gave me his old Dremel when he bought a new one. I gave it to Alison for Christmas of 2007. I didn't realize when I got the idea for this carving that Caleb was not going to live, so of course it is much more significant to us now as a promise of the future.
The Dremel has really expanded my horizons (so would a spindle sander and a drill press, if anyone wants gift ideas...). Last year was our 5th anniversary, which is the wood anniversary in the traditional gifting calendar. I just did these over the past few days out of bocote (an African hardwood) for us to wear, although I will need to either redo Alison's or do a couple of reinforcing dips in polyurethane because it has a small crack.
So, there you go. Oh, wait, there's one more. I made this for my nephew Tanner for Christmas; I'm including it because I think it's cool. I am planning one for Aaron, with bigger wheels. You can't tell how cool this really is because all the engineering is hidden.
So, yeah.


*Extra points if you got the allusion