It's Not Easy Being GREEN

I'm not sure how many of you know this story, but my move to Portland was a fairly spontaneous one. I had moved back to Nevada in 2001 after living in Seattle for nearly 7 years. Whenever I feel like my life is stagnant, I have been known to make big changes with reckless abandon.

That's an entirely different blog.

Toward the end of 2004 I was looking for such a change. In October of '04, I had decided to sell my house in (then) Virginia City to buy a piece of commercial property (also in V.C). It was a very cool old brick building smack dab in the middle of downtown Virginia City. It had a cavernous, I mean massive, open downstairs and a very rundown apartment upstairs that at one point had been a boarding house. The thought was, I would run a cafe downstairs and live upstairs. The building was in pretty good shape for being 130 years old, and I was really excited about it. The offer was in, the appraisal was done ($3,000 for a commercial appraisal-- ouch), and we were set to close escrow December 30th. Everything but the final paperwork was signed.

I had already made plans that year to spend New Year's Eve in Portland. Tickets were purchased. Valerie and I had been coming up with themes for the party we would be co-hosting (That was the year 'school' was the theme-- Good Times). Well, as the story goes, I spoke with my real estate agent the week before I left. We were talking about the deal and my plans for the cafe. He was excited because Virginia City really needed a place that served a decent cup of coffee. He casually mentioned to me that I needed to make sure to carefully screen all potential employees for drugs and backgrounds because there is an element in V.C. that he said, "would either run off your customer base, or rob you blind."

This statement really stuck with me and got me doing a lot of thinking. I thought, "This is not the kind of town I want to raise kids in." I always knew I would eventually find the right someone to start a family with, but it wasn't until that moment that I understood how important a decision it is.

So, here I am in Portland. It's New Year's Eve, and all my friends at the party, specifically Alison asked me, "So when are you moving here?" I had been asked this question before, but never considered it as a serious option. I actually liked being in Nevada, liked my job and loved my house. Things were pretty good, but there was that certain something that was missing. I had missed living in the Northwest since I left Seattle. And, after visiting Portland so often over the years, I used to say to people that if I ever moved back to the Pacific Northwest again, I would move to Portland. On the plane ride home after that trip, I decided to do just that. My house was already sold. My belongings were already packed. All I really needed to do was have a place to go. The next day that I was scheduled to work, I gave notice. My last day was January 12th, 2005. I came to Portland at the end of January and within a week lined up a job and made an offer on a house. By March, it was a done deal. Luckily, the paperwork that would have made my commercial real estate deal official expired on 12/30/04. It was because I was in Portland for New Years that I was able to move here and get out of the deal without any penalties.

That's the backstory, so here's the blog. Portland is a great town. There are many, too many, reasons to live here. First of all, I love the weather and the climate. I like it when things are green. Water makes that happen. I also love the way the city feels. By that, I mean, that because of all the neighborhoods, it still feels like you live in a small town, but have all the conveniences of being in a city. Add to that the public transportation system, more restaurants than you could ever eat at, cultural events, the annual Brewfest, I mean it's just fantastic and keeps getting better. I also love that the community at large votes in a way that is more in line with what I believe than it ever did in Nevada. It's going to take a lot of California overflow to turn Nevada into a blue state, and by then it would suck more than is tolerable. Anyway, the point is, I love that people (and the city itself) are so progressive when it comes to pretty much everything. I love that people are concerned about the environment, and DO something about it. In Virginia City, there was no such thing as curbside recycling. Here, I don't think there's much you can't recycle. What doesn't go in the curbside bin can go to a grocery store for recycling.

I guess the overall point of what I'm trying to get at, is that just feels good to be doing things for the environment, and living in a town where that's supported and sought after. Now, since Elliott has been born, it seems even more important so that he and his kids, and their kids, and so on, respect and care for our planet. I think Portland is a great place to do that.

To date, Stephanie and I have made the following adjustments in our lives, and it just plain feels good, plus it feels like the right thing to do: 1) I personally try to recycle everything they will take. I even take the little cardboard rip cords off of frozen food and recycle them. For some reason, our curbside recyclers only take plastic bottles with "necks". I admit, I haven't been rinsing out the yogurt containers and taking them to where they do recycle, but that's coming. 2) We bought a Prius hybrid in July. We love this car. It averages around 50 miles per gallon. It's much roomier and functional than you might expect and rides really smoothly. We rave about it all the time, so I won't ramble, but we love it. The last time I filled the gas tank of my old truck, it was $75. The first time we filled the Prius, it was $15.65. Basically, we reduced our fuel consumption by about 75 percent. 3) We have started taking daily walks and have been picking up cans and recycling along the way. At first, it started out as a fundraising effort (The 5 cent deposits add up. As Stephanie likes to say, "You wouldn't walk by a nickel without picking it up." So now, we pick up cans on our daily walks. The first day we did it together, we picked up $3.25 worth of cans and bottles. We casually joke that this is how we are going to put Elliott through Harvard Medical School... but we've done such a good job of picking up the section of trail that we walk, that we're lucky if we make a quarter nowadays. 4) We take our own cups when we go out for coffee. This may not seem like a big deal, but with 2 people going for coffee at least once daily, that adds up to over 700 cups we personally keep out of landfills each year. That's an easy one 5) The newest GREEN venture of ours is that we are just now converting our oil furnace to BIODIESEL. We just got the tank filled for the first time today. Supposedly it burns at the same rate as regular heating oil, just much much cleaner. No special equipment is necessary. The only thing we'll have to do is have the furnace serviced in a few weeks to clean out the last of the crud that the oil system will leave behind. It's 20 cents more per gallon, but we feel it's worth it.

I guess the final frontier for us will be politics. Volunteering is tough and being proactive in a practical sense even more so. Anyway, we're doing what we can and hope that everybody else is doing the same. We still have a long way to go. Eventually, I'd like to convert to all organic cleaning solutions, hygiene products, etc. but it's a process. I think we also don't want to be the freaky green people either. I know there are many more people who take it more seriously than we do. I could start commuting by bike or buy a completely electric car. There is a definite end point where you want to do what you can, but it can be taken too far.

Anyway, I didn't intend to be preachy. I just hope to inspire people to do what they can. In a world that feel like it's sliding backwards most of the time, it feels good to be doing what we can to preserve this beautiful world we live in.

Live life. Be green. Peace.

[Tomorrow's topic: Lasik eye surgery... since Stephanie is having it done.]

Welcome to blOgtoberfest !

For a few weeks now, I have been wondering what would happen if I wrote or blogged every day for an entire month.

As of late, I find it extremely challenging to balance work, life, and the pursuit of a dream. I really wish I had the luxury of writing for 4-6 hours a day, but I simply don't at this juncture. Work gets in the way 3 days a week, and the rest is filled with taking family walks, enjoying every cup of coffee and making sure the numbers on the scale go down instead of up... things that in the grand scheme are more important.

That doesn't mean that I don't desire to hole up and lose myself in exploring the craft. I had a really amazing... no, surreal, experience on nitrous during a root canal several weeks ago. I have wanted to write about the experience since it happened, but got sidetracked, which, for me, means the idea dies. I have never found a good way to jot ideas down as they come to me. Note pads never seem to be in the right place, or I'm too busy to stop what I'm doing to write ideas down. Palm pilots seem like a good solution, but really, that's just an expensive note pad. All the same shortcomings apply.

For me, persistence is helpful. Having deadlines even more so. So, in celebration of October and my love for word play, I came up with the idea for blOgtoberfest... a month long celebration of my blog and my writing and any noteworthy random thought that might enter my head, and sharing the results with all of you, my most coveted critics and loyal fans.

I am really excited about taking the month-long journey of daily writing. I fear, as any writer does, that I will come up dry for ideas, and may need your help. If there's anything you're interested in and would like to start a formal discussion on, shoot me an email or respond in the form of a comment to the blog, and I guarantee we'll squeeze them all in. Let's have nothing be off limits.

By the way, for those of you with birthdays in October, consider my blog on your birthday my own personal tribute to you. I don't want to leave anybody out, so if your birthday is anything but October 4th, 12th, or 25th [those are taken, or will need to be amended] let me know and I will make special effort to include your tribute in the fun. The finale will be a special Halloween blog, an original All Hallows Eve tale written by yours truly.

Until tomorrow...

About This Story...

I subscribe to a weekly newsletter from a website called Writer's Weekly. They hold a quarterly 24 Hour Short Story Contest. It costs $5 to enter, but the winning prize is $300, so I enter it sometimes for fun. They basically provide you with a topic, and you have 24 hours to write your story. Well, the contest was yesterday, and the following story is my submission.

I'm kind of proud of it, actually. It's an amalgamation of sorts for me. There are several little elements woven through it that are personal to me. I already posted the story, so it would probably make more sense for you to read it first, then come back to this paragraph. Apologies for my poor planning.

My grandfather's name was Arthur, as is my middle name after him. Most folks called him "Art," but we all called him "Gramps." I have taken a liking to saying, "My middle name is 'ART'," because of that. Anyway, he died in December of 1987 when I was 19. The last time I saw him was at Thanksgiving at my Uncle Larry and Aunt De's (Diana) house that year. He was not an artist, but a mechanic. The man could fix anything, and we all had running cars to prove it. I also named the main character after my cousin (it's good to be the favorite) Jennifer. Whenever I think of Gramps, I think of that last Thanksgiving. Making his final painting about playing hide and seek with one of us kids is a tribute to that.

I also tucked part of a lyric of a Dave Matthews song in there. Jessica, you may be the only one who finds it.

And finally, the title, "Snowflakes Without Agenda" was a phrase I came up with several years ago when my mom and I took a trip antiquing around the Murphys, Jackson, Yosemite area of California. On the way home, it began to snow to biggest snowflakes I've ever seen. They were easily silver-dollar sized and falling straight down because there was no wind [without agenda]. I liked the phrase so much, I've been dying to use it. This was my chance. I'm sure you'll see it resurface in the future.

Anyway, the trees in front of our house are beginning to drop leaves faster than we can pick them up. Ordinarily, this is a chore of fall that I dread, but this year, it has me extremely nostalgic for the past and hopeful for the future as my own family is starting to pass through its own set of seasons.

I would like to take this opportunity to let you know how much I apppreciate each and every one of you. If you are on the mailing list for my blog, you are one of the people I truly cherish and appreciate. Knowing you is something I treasure and you have enriched my life in ways you may never fully know. I hold these thoughts sacred.

Thank you for being you and sharing part of your life with me.

C

SNOWFLAKES WITHOUT AGENDA

The vivid hues of the foliage seemed to bring the painting to life. Intrigued, she leaned closer, desperately wishing to be there, in that place so far away, and so long ago. Her senses seemed to respond to her subconscious desires when she suddenly inhaled the scent of wood smoke, felt a cold wind stirring her hair, and saw a movement in the distance...

“Grandpa, is that you?” Jennifer called ahead.
Silence answered back.
“Grandpa, where are you?” she called again, a little worried.
Still silence.
“Ollie, Ollie, Oxen Free!” she shouted.
From behind, Grandpa’s massive hands squeezed and tickled her, hoisting her high into the late autumn sky. His outstretched arms seemed miles long as she looked down at him, squealing first from fear, then laughter. The crows dispersed from the branches above as the clouds took the last of the sunlight away. Her laughter filled the air and echoed back from the distance with the sound of happiness.
“Where were you hiding?” she asked. “I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
“I was just over there,” he said, “behind that big rock between those Aspen trees and that tall Cedar. You almost got me when you climbed up on that rock, but I saw you coming, so I buried myself in a pile of leaves. You were so close I had to hold my breath so you wouldn’t hear me. I almost passed out.”
Jennifer smiled and said, “Should we head back?”
“You think they miss us?” Grandpa replied.
“I’m not sure,” Jennifer said, “but I’m getting cold.”
“Alright then,” he replied, as they began to saunter back down the trail.
Blowing rapidly down the cobblestone road, the yellow leaves danced gold, the red ones burned maroon. More beautiful than reality, the dark orange leaves faded around the edges, as if they couldn't decide which color to be. Large, flat snowflakes began to fall, without agenda, as the crisp air turned cold. As the two returned down the path to Grandma and Grandpa’s stone cabin, the cobblestones had transitioned from gray to white. Smoke billowed out of the chimney, and flickered as it became one with the sky, smelling faintly of walnut.
“There’s no place as beautiful as Vermont in the fall,” her Grandpa would say every time they returned from playing Hide and Seek.
“Did the squirrels chase you off?” Grandma asked as the two passed through the door. “Dinner is almost ready. You two should go wash up.”
“Can you show me your studio again before dinner, Grandpa?” Jennifer asked, nearly pleading.
“Sure, Love Bug,” he said, and took her by the hand.
The two climbed the hardwood staircase to Grandpa’s loft studio.
“The lighting is much better up here,” Grandpa would always say as they entered the studio. Rolls of canvas stood at attention in the corner while row upon row of his old oil paintings lined the perimeter like soldiers ready for battle. He had started painting as a means of relaxation following a war injury. As his body got better, so did his paintings. Nobody ever counted, but there must have been a battalions worth of them. A hint of turpentine and linseed oil filled her nostrils when Jennifer noticed Grandpa was starting a new painting.
“What’s it going to be, Grandpa?” she asked.
“Something special,” he replied. “I’m not sure exactly how it’s going to turn out yet. You’ll just have to see it when I’m finished.”
“Could you paint something for me, Grandpa?” she asked.
“I’ll see what I can do, Love Bug. We better get back downstairs. Your Grandma’s sweet potato pie is waiting for us. I’m starving after hiding from you for so long,” he said, and smiled.
Grandpa took a seat in his favorite old, dusty chair. The hum of activity in the kitchen was palpable. Jennifer helped set the table. Diana, her mother, made homemade stuffing and cranberry sauce. Aunts and uncles and cousins sat around the table playing a game of cards while hints of thyme and rosemary saturated their noses and tickled their taste buds. Every year, without fail, they all knew dinner was ready when Grandma would call out, “Art, it’s time to come carve the bird,” which he would do, and everybody would eat and drink and laugh… telling the same stories, year after year, until everybody had enough to eat.
With her belly full of turkey, Jennifer’s head began to bob, as the tryptophan kicked in. Sleep began to take over her body. Her mother said, “Honey, why don’t you run off to bed. You look so tired.”
Jennifer pulled herself up on the sofa and said her goodnights to the room full of people, playing cards again and laughing. She walked over to Grandpa in his dusty chair, kissed him lightly on the cheek and said, “I love you Grandpa.”
“You too, Love Bug. Great Day,” he whispered back.
“See you in the morning, Grandpa,” she said.
“OK, sweet heart. Good night,” he said.
Jennifer ran off to bed, and slept hard underneath the flannel sheets and the thick down comforter, thinking of her Hide and Seek game as she drifted off.

“Honey, wake up,” said Diana, Jennifer’s mother. “Dinner is ready.”
“Give me a minute,” Jennifer said, “I’ll be right there.”
After freshening up, Jennifer sauntered downstairs and was greeted by 28 smiling eyes. With the traditional Thanksgiving feast spread out before them, Grandpa’s painting watched over the entire family as they ate and drank and laughed. In that moment, the air smelled of his cologne and sweet potatoes. It felt as if he was in the next room, so alive, sitting in his dusty chair, waiting for Grandma to call out, “Art, it’s time to come carve the bird!”
The painting on the wall had been the last he ever painted. It depicted the Vermont forest in late fall, leaves swirling around along a cobblestone path. Grandma and Grandpa’s stone cabin off in the distance. A solitary figure, holding a little girl’s hand as they walked toward the cabin and the snow began to fall. Being his last painting, everybody in the family secretly hoped to inherit it after Grandpa died last Christmas, but in his will, he had left it to Jennifer, as everybody knew he would.
“Who’s going to carve the bird this year?” Grandma asked.
Jennifer took the knife with a tear in her eye, a smile on her face, and the snowflakes fell outside without agenda.

Put Your Box in a Box

Thanks this morning goes out to Kristin for sending me a link to this video. It is freakin' HYSTerical! I've been waiting at least 6 months to run across something this funny on YouTube.

Apparently, it's a spoof on a Saturday Night Live skit called "Dick in a Box" that included (I think) Justin Timberlake. Since Elliott was born, we haven't seen too much late night TV, so I'll trust the info I got on the web.

Anyway, here's to celebrating the BOX. Click the thumbnail or follow this link to check it out: [My Box in a Box Video]

Ha Ha Ha (Still laughing)

C

Moment of Silence

I just realized as I sat down to write today that it is September 11th. I hadn't given it a thought prior to now.

...taking a moment of silence to put life in perspective

...how easily we forget.

Cory

Just Have to Bitch

I really can't believe this!

I've been thinking about this for some time, at least since I decided to go back to school and start writing again... I have been thinking I should register my name as a domain [ie www.coryfreeman.com]. Every time I have ever checked, it has been available, so just moments ago, I logged on to GoDaddy.com only to find out it has been taken! TWO F*&^%#$ days ago! It's not like my name is Jack Johnson. What a horribly sad day in Coryville. Now I have to pray, wait a year, and be ready to pounce. AAAARRRRGGGH!

Please send me condolences (That's 'D' as in 'dead'). I am dying here... at least kicking myself. What an idiot.

C

A Tribute to Common Courtesy...

This has been bugging me for some time. The more I think about it, the more bothered I get.

It started at work. In the middle of a small emergency at the hospital, my bedside cart was void of some simple essentials: saline flushes, extra needles, that kind of thing. My job is hard enough. It is both physically and mentally taxing, and it can be scary when things go bad. When I sit and think about the things I am responsible for (fragile human lives, medications, making sure other people don't kill my patients) it doesn't seem worth the money I make for the risk I take (risk of physical injury, exposure to blood and body fluids, disease exposure). The last thing I should have to worry about is whether or not I have the right supplies to do my job, especially on days when I hit the ground running, and don't have time to even pee.

I don't know how many of you know this, but a few summers ago, I backpacked the bulk of the Tahoe Rim Trail (130 miles in July 2004 and 35 miles on 2 pick up sections in August 2005). It took about 12 days total, and was one of the most amazing experiences of my life, second only probably to getting married and the birth of Elliott. One of the things that made the experience so amazing was how pristine the trail and the lake have managed to remain despite years of use by so many people. The only way this is possible is through the efforts of every single person who uses the trails.

Most backpackers live by the mantra "Pack it in. Pack it out." Many other outdoor enthusiasts live by the principles of the "Leave No Trace" philosophy as well. Even the attendees of Burning Man (psychedelic living arts festival where over 25,000 participants build an entire city in the Nevada desert every summer during the week of Labor Day) manage to leave the Playa with nothing more than footprints of their existence.

So why is it that you can't go to Starbucks without having to wipe a spill left behind from the person before you, or to a gas station bathroom without practically having to do the splits to avoid the puddle, or to a concert without having to traipse around in trash and beer cans to get back to your car?

It's because Common Courtesy is dead!

None of us should have to leave notes to co-workers reminding them to put the lid down or use a toilet brush. You should not have to bust out a Clorox wipe just to feel comfortable sitting on a bus. And you shouldn't have to worry about getting Hepatitis A or E. Coli from going to a restaurant. Don't even get me started on sanitary (napkin) receptacles in coed restrooms.

I try really hard to live by the Leave No Trace philosophy. I don't litter. I clean up after myself at the sugar counter at the cafe, I pick up random pieces of trash. I drive my wife crazy with conversations of bread crumbs on the counter. Maybe I'm obsessive-compulsive in the making, but I just feel strongly that you should not have to clean up other people's messes in order to comfortably live your life.

Stephanie and I went to an art exhibit recently where her grandma was showing some paintings. It was very nice, hosted in a private home, very well-done. I went to use the bathroom (#1), and when I flushed the toilet, it began to overflow. The person who used it before me had clogged it up with who knows what. Luckily, there was a plunger nearby and I was able to spare the next person from a nuclear spill (and thinking it was me who clogged the damn thing). Who does that?

Don't get me wrong. I know in other parts of the world, people live in conditions much more deplorable than I can imagine. I am grateful I don't have to sleep on a dirt floor or try to cook my cup of rice with water that came from the same place the rest of the village squats to pee.

I have the issue in perspective.

But that's sort of exactly my point. If we all did our part, and did things "just because we should" the world would be a much better place, possibly even for those I just mentioned. There might not be world hunger. There might not be WAR. There might not be third-world nations. Maybe this is an oversimplification on the problems of the world, but I think if we simply did things just because we should, the world would be a better place-- for everybody.

There. That's my rant. Remember to wash your hands.

RELATED LINKS you might find fun:

Leave No Trace
Tahoe Rim Trail
Burning Man

Dog Days of Summer

I don't know why I waited so long to do this, but I promised my friend Donna I would post this info on the blog in May, and I'm just getting around to it... undoubtedly because we had our hands full with the newborn bundle of love. Anyway, I am trying to clear out my inbox and found the information. Also, if you are looking for a pet and can't find one you are looking for, consider a greyound if you have a fenced yard. They make great pets and there are tons of rescue groups.

Here's the info I promised to post:

Ginger’s Pet Rescue is a grass roots movement to save wonderful loving dogs who have been surrendered to high kill shelters. If interested in adopting a dog, fostering a dog or just getting the word out please contact Ginger’s Pet Rescue. In one year’s time Ginger’s Pet Rescue has saved over 300 dogs from being euthanized. If this link does not work, please Google Ginger’s Pet Rescue

http://www.gingerspetrescue.org/

Call Sara Schwarz
E-mail Address(es):
visionsdog@yahoo.com
Personal Information:
Phone: 253 439-0973 cell
Business Information:
Phone: 253 851-9362 wk

Hot August Nightmares

My inbox has been overflowing with emails from people wondering what has been happening with me and why I haven't been blogging. Here's the down & dirty version.

In late July/early August, Stephanie and I took a trip to the Bay Area for a week. This was a planned trip. Stephanie wanted to finish up the last of like 20 week-long classes to receive her full Montessori credential. The plan was for me to take care of Elliott while Stephanie was in class. It was an added bonus that we got to spend time with Auntie Nicole and her family. This was first time Elliott met cousin Eric and the second time he met cousin Sarah (she was 4 months old and present at his birth).

A few days before the trip, I started experiencing a funny pain in my right ankle. I thought I had banged it on the footboard of our bed as this has happened numerous times. It felt a little bruised, but no big deal. Each day before the trip, the discomfort got a little worse, but I was able to walk it off during the course of the day, plus I worked the 2 days before we left and there wasn't anything I could do about it if I wanted to.

We drove down on Saturday in the new Prius [We love this car, by the way. The whole trip cost us about $100 in gas-- not bad for putting over 2000 miles on it] By the time we arrived in Foster City on Saturday afternoon, my right ankle was swollen and tender and painful to walk on. Over the course of the next few days it kept getting worse. By Tuesday when I woke up crying in pain [and asked Stephanie to drive me to the Kaiser E.R. in Redwood City [Coincidentally the same hospital Stephanie was born in. The point being, you know it was bad if I was willing to go to a Kaiser E.R.] it was so painful I couldn't walk on it, and it also started to swell and discolor. Making matters worse, the same thing started happening in my left foot as well.

I was seen by a Dr. Bhopale. Nice guy. Did the usuals. Blood work, X-ray. The X-ray was negative for a fracture. He also tapped my ankle joint but was not able to aspirate very much fluid. Good thing, I guess, because this meant there was no infection. At first he thought I might have gout. They drew some blood for lab work. My uric acid level was normal. My sed rate was elevated at 45. After 4 hours of testing, he basically told me he didn't really know what was going on and that a "wait and see" approach was the best he could offer me. I thought, "Wait and see? Until what? My feet fall off?" Anyway, he sent me on my way with a pair of crutches, a brace, and a prescription for Indocin (anti-inflammatory) and Vicodin for pain. I took both religiously for the next 6 days until we arrived back in Portland. The Indocin did nothing for the inflammation, but the Vicodin helped with the pain to a large degree. At the end, I had taken it every 4 hours for nearly a week.

We got back to Portland on the 5th of August. On the 6th I had scheduled an appointment with a rheumatologist. I ended up seeing a doctor named Anita Goel. Fantastic doctor. After examining me, within 5 minutes, she said, "I think you may have sarcoidosis." She pointed out a red, puffy nodule just below my right knee that she explained was erythema nodosum, a defining characteristic in people with sarcoidosis. She confirmed her suspicions with a chest X-ray.

Sarcoidosis is basically an auto-immune disorder that starts in the lungs, but can affect any organ in the body. It involves the lymph nodes [which, in my X-ray, look like a nice sparkly constellation around my heart] and can cause inflammatory responses in other parts of the body, in my case, the feet. Something triggers the condition and sets off a chain of events whereby the immune system recognizes the body's own cells as foreign and attacks them. The cause of sarcoidosis is unknown. It can be severe enough to cause death, but can also be self-limiting and go away in as few as three years. [All this information is, of course, paraphrasing all the internet research I have been conducting, and probably a little less than completely accurate]. Dr. Goel prescribed steroids for me, which worked extremely well within 24-48 hours. By the time I had my follow up appointment a week later, my feet were pretty much back to normal and I was able to return to work. And, aside from a few nights of sleeplessness from the steroids and feeling generally run down, I am feeling much better.

I was obsessed with figuring out how this happened to me. I can live with the fact that the cause is unknown. I may have had sarcoidosis for some time and just not known it. What I couldn't understand was what triggered it. Finally, all I could come up with was the Hepatitis B vaccine I had received for my job just 24 hours before the pain in my ankle started. I got a copy of the insert from the employee health nurse. Interestingly enough, common side effects include arthritis and erythema nodosum (which is what helped Dr. Goel diagnose me). I asked Dr. Goel about this on my follow up visit. She said she didn't think the Hep B vaccine is what triggered it, but she also couldn't say definitely that it wasn't, either. Considering that I had never experienced any prior symptoms, and the pain started 24 hours after receiving the vaccine, I can't think of anything else it could be.

Anyway, the long and the short of it is, that is why I have not been blogging, emailing or returning phone calls. In the midst of all this happening, Stephanie and Elliott have been sick as well. We had our first fever scare with Elliott. He had a fever of 105.6 a couple of weeks ago. He's doing fine now, but had us nervous for a while to say the least. I think we're all finally on the mend.

Also, I have been spending my blogging time simply gathering all the stuff I needed to apply to the Writing Program at Portland State. I just sent off the packet yesterday. I'll let you all know when I find out. Thanks again to Valerie, Paul and Cari for the recommendation letters. The meant a lot to me. It's nice to know I'm surrounded by such amazing and kind people who are willing to say they like me on paper.

In case this is the only entry for August, I am looking forward to getting back on track in September. I have a couple items burning a hole in my brain I would like to share with all of you.

-C