it’s not about you

PROVO, UTAH — A newspaper photographer got a little too close to the action at the state high school track championships _ and was speared through the leg by a javelin.

Ryan McGeeney of the Standard-Examiner was spared serious injury in Saturday’s mishap, and even managed to snap a photo of his speared leg while others worked to help him.

“If I didn’t, it would probably be my editor’s first question when I got back,” McGeeney said later.

The 33-year-old McGeeney, an ex-Marine who spent six months in Afghanistan, was taking pictures of the discus event and apparently wandered into off-limits area set aside for the javelin throw.

Striking just below the knee, the javelin tip went through the skin and emerged on the other side of his leg.

“It wasn’t real painful. … I was very lucky in that it didn’t hit any blood vessels, nerves, ligaments or tendons,” McGeeney said.

Much of the javelin was cut off at the scene. The piece in McGeeney’s leg was removed at a hospital, and he received 13 stitches.

The javelin was thrown by Anthony Miles, a Provo High School student who said when he saw what had happened, “my heart just stopped.”

“One of the first things that came to my mind was, ‘Good thing we brought a second javelin,’” Miles’ coach, Richard Vance, said Monday. He said Miles was “in a little bit of shock,” but he assured the athlete that it was not his fault.

With a subsequent throw, Miles went on to win the state title in javelin for teams in Provo High’s size classification, 4-A.

So, for some reason, I can no longer post photos to the main page from my Flickr. I have no idea why, since I’m about as tech-savvy as… someone who’s not tech-savvy. Anyway.

I’ve posted a couple of new photos since the one that appears on the site. Just click through to see them. As soon as I find my card reader and upload photos from the Nikon, I’ll have post-haircut pictures and pictures from our camping trip this past weekend with some friends.

It’s still nice and warm here. I woke up sticky this morning in my sheets and for a minute, thought I was in Texas. I went downstairs to get some things out of the car, and when I stepped on the brick right outside our front door in the hallway, I cringed, waiting for my bare foot to touch cold brick, since the stairwell is always cool. When it didn’t happen, and the brick stayed warm under my foot, I cackled a little bit.

There’s always a chill in the air here - everyone carries a bag so they have a sweater and a scarf available at all times. A comment on the weather article on the Chronicle’s web site that said “I don’t even know how to dress for anything over 65 degrees” made me laugh out loud. Everyone has been practically basking in this heat - it’s been a welcome respite. I’ve never seen so many people wearing black at a beach.

A woman visiting from Florida who was quoted in last night’s article was recounting her cab ride where the driver refused to turn on the air-conditioning even though it was in the 90’s outside. She was baffled.

At one point in my life, I would have been, too. Now I understand. Everyone here is trying to soak it up and store it, just like Vitamin D.

The temp in San Francisco right now?

94 degrees, baby.

I am loving this. The kids and I hit the beach this morning with some friends and we got there early enough to not have any trouble finding a parking spot. Of course, it was mobbed with hot and cranky people when we left. Nancy and I were at the water’s edge with all the kids, when a couple of really skinny, tanned women in skimpy bikinis sauntered by. I told Mary Judah to stop throwing sand so one of them could pass and when she was out of earshot, I turned to Nancy and said, “Maybe I should have let her keep throwing it.” Neither of us are by any means obese, yet we lamented the deterioration of our bodies anyway, when another skinny and tanned and skimpy-bikini-clad woman walked by, leaving Nancy and I speechless again. I turned to her after a few moments and said, “Well… I’ve given birth! TWICE!”

We’ve got the kiddie pool set up in the backyard soaking up warmth from the sun so we can go out there after Killian’s nap. My kids are running around mostly naked and I’m sweating.

I’m just sure glad I’m not pregnant right now.

If a four-year-old is running, falls and scrapes her ankle on the sidewalk, tearing off a pretty good chunk of skin, how many band-aids will she put on it until it heals?

If a toddler drops his full, seven-ounce milk cup from the seat of the shopping cart for sport, how big of a bruise will it leave on mommy’s foot just under her toes? Will she be able to wear flip-flops?

If a four-year-old “accidentally” knocks over her bowl full of milk from breakfast, and the milk covers an area of roughly 16 to 20 square feet, plus the table, chair, cushion, and said four-year-old, how many applesauce splatters that you missed from the day before will you then find?

If a 21-month-old drops four ounces of applesauce from a height of three-and-a-half-feet, and it splatters in an arc all over the floor, table, and wall, exactly how long will it take to clean up?

If you’re gonna eat meat, don’t be a pussy.

link.

this one’s good.

Lauren’s a vegetarian. I’m not. I have been, periodically, and I don’t eat much meat anyway - mostly chicken, hardly ever beef. I gave up meat for Lent this year, which meant my family also gave up meat by default, since I’m the one who does virtually all the shopping and cooking.

Found this photoset from my husband’s blog, and had to post. Enjoy!

Anyone up for a bacon bar?

IN THE SAME DAY:

Mary Judah ruined her brand new dress and a new shirt after I caught her marking up the entire phone book (and her dress and shirt) with a big black Sharpie. The phone book, I don’t care about, the brand new dress she’s only worn three times? Maybe a little bit.

Killian, who it seems always has a hand down the front of his pants, started pulling his penis up out of his diaper. Every time I try to stick it back in and tell him no, he thinks it’s a game. Can they stretch their penis that far to pull it up out of their diaper? YES, THEY CAN. I see unknown urine puddles on the floor in my future (all the mothers of boys reading this are now cackling evilly at me - you know who you are!!!)

I knew these things would happen, but I thought they might be staggered a little bit, you know, to at least give me a fighting chance.

That sweet little baby has turned into a sweet little girl, and believe me, there are days when I want to glue a bucket to her head just to muffle the whining, and then position her so that she’ll walk blindly into a wall, but on days like today, I understand that she is and always will be the best thing that has ever happened to me.

via dooce.

The great thing about sick kids is that they’re very cuddly and snuggly.

The not so great thing (aside from them being SICK, hello!) is that they’re very warm little creatures.

My poor boy is sick, the snuggly, warm, little thing.

Mary Judah’s preschool went on a field trip to Harley Farms down in Pescadero today. I am EXHAUSTED. Tonight, I had a sub-committee meeting at my house for the church Steering Committee, and the last person just left five minutes ago.

Mary Judah was very excited about taking her camera to the goat farm this morning and the first thing she did when we got there was whip it out and take pictures. She took pictures the whole time we were there. When Joshua got home from work tonight, she showed him all the pictures from her camera. Somehow, Killian got ahold of it and started pushing buttons (Joshua just informed me that Mary judah handed Killian her camera). When Mary Judah went to show our friend Nick the photos she’d taken today, none of them appeared. Apparently, Killian had been deleting photos the entire time he was pushing buttons.

I feel like crying about it, and boy howdy, have we had enough of that around here. All of those photos she worked so hard to get - GONE. And I can’t pay six bucks and just go get another one. I feel SO BAD. She was so thrilled about her photos and now they’re GONE GONE GONE.

In other news, I’m teaching her that when she tells people, “My mom is going to homeschool me” she needs to add, “and we’re sticking it to the man.”

That’s my girl.