The power of Christ compels thee.

A couple of weeks ago, my oldest daughter had a nosebleed in the morning. What unfolds next is no exaggeration nor embellishment on the details. I still can’t get the images of that day out of my head.

WARNING: The following story is graphic and gross.

My usual routine in the morning is shower, make lunches for both Ruby and I, brew coffee, eat breakfast, iron shirt and get my ladies up. Jen is first on my route, with Ruby being the next stop and then finally AVA. This particular morning the wife was slow getting out of bed, so I was already in the bathroom messing up my coif. Usually at some point Ruby saunters in to relieve the morning dew collection. So as I am fiddling with my hair, I hear her say, “Man, why is my nose running?” When I look at her, I notice a bit of blood around the nostril rim and some blood on the back of her hand from doing the no-kleenex-snot-wipe.

Alright, no big deal, just a nosebleed. So I use all the information I have gathered in my years of dealing with nosebleeds, which apparently was all wrong. More on this later. I grab a tissue and proceed to apply pressure to the middle part of her nose.

"This should clear up in few minutes, so don't worry Ruby."

10 minutes later, the nose is still bleeding. Actually, more like gushing. I start to panic a bit, Jen is avoiding the situation due to fainting issues with blood, which in turn makes me a bit short with Ruby. She obviously is scared to have blood stream out of her nose and into her mouth and on her lap. Big scarlet red drops are falling just like the few seconds before a summer downpour. The cries of a frightened 6-year old only heighten the mood.

20 minutes later. I say, "I think it may have stopped." Negative. Bleeding comes back with a vengeance. The bleeding snarls at me with a "Fuck you old man, I am taking this one." A huge, snotty clot shoots out her nose. This causes a chain reaction of gagging and a bit of vomit. I am completely beside myself. SCARED. Jen asks if she should call the doctor from her hunched over position on the floor.

"Hell yeah."

Could this get any worse? Can the doctor save the day on this 30-minute bloodletting? The doctor asks her questions and I answer them. I feel the fear fading a bit...maybe it will be all right. Nope. No way, no how.

What happens now is something I don't even think I can begin to convey in words the sheer horror that I witnessed. Or, how completely scared Ruby was at what was the largest amount of blood, bile and phlegm to come out of her mouth. It ran like a crimson river down her chin and chest into her lap. I know I called for Jesus, God and Calgon in that moment. I know the doctor was trying to reel me back in. I know Jen was close to blacking out. I know that my white shirt had miraculously avoided the bloodshed that was taking place in our very little bathroom. I know that Ruby was still sitting on the toilet from her morning pee.

Finally, after an aeon of 45 minutes, the bleeding subsided. The fear is gone, with only a slight hangover of emotional exhaustion. Ruby seems to be okay, but is understandably worried that it will start bleeding again. Jen is able to walk around. And, Ava? Not sure what she was doing this whole time.

Before the phone call ended with the doctor she gave me some tips: Blow your nose to remove clots, as they will often not stop the bleeding and will in turn cause you to swallow massive amounts of blood. Also, pinch the nose shut at the nasal entrance, while leaning forward. If possible, ball up some tissue and shove it in the nose hole as a plug.

I felt like Father Karras after that...well, except for the whole hurling myself out the window bit. I think that may have been a bit of overkill to stop a nosebleed. Yeah, that's right. Fuck you nosebleed, till we meet again.

Nine years...

As I mentioned in my last post, my wife and I just celebrated our 9th anniversary this past weekend. Good food and a delicious big ass beer at Checkers. I always make a card of some sort for my wife for the big three: Christmas, Birthday and Anniversary. I had no idea what I was going to do this year. I then had an idea while in the shower, which seems to be the place where most of my eleventh hour ideas originate.

When I started drawing it, I kind of had the sneaking suspicion that this might make a good sticker for some hippie's rusted out VW. I do not take this as a compliment. No way. This drawing is my technique, but not really my style. Anyway, it was done for love, so that makes it alright in my book. I wanted to watercolor it, but since I procrastinated, I thought I would mess it up in my rush to get it done. I also included my hand written note on the inside in all its embarrassing prose glory. [pencil + ink]

Front:


Inside:

Apologies once again...

Sort of hit a drawer's block this week. I will have something for Monday. Going to celebrate my anniversary this weekend with the wife. Dinner at Checkers Bistro (300 West James Street in Downtown Lancaster) without the girls. I highly recommend this place for its fusion cuisine. Also, their beer selection is not too shabby.

Anyway, I found this writing I did some time ago. Not sure why I wrote it, but I thought I would post it anyway.

When the trees moan, and yes, they will. Take time to bury your feet in death's pre-moistened soil. Tickle the roots with your dirty toes. Tilt the head, expose your throat. Let primal yelps, howls and screams bellow into the veiled night. The waxing moon is pure menace. Tainted dreams. Phosphorous beams stain cheeks and hands. Know this, that when you see him coming, hold nothing back. Stick him with the broken shovel, sever the left limb. Rattle the bones. Crack them if you can. Your safety lies in the fifth pocket, caress this relic of nuisance past. The night cannot hold you forever...hopefully.

If you have read this before, please help me put it into context, as my memory is failing me in my old age.

Sorry, no scribble, just a rant...

I was off today, the wife and I took the girls to Hershey for yearly allergy tests. I wasn't really able to get my act together this morning to get a scribble up for Friday. Anyway, I thought I would take this opportunity to rant about something that has bothered me for quite sometime...

Litter.

To be more specific, McDonald's takeout bag litter. Hell, let's get even more specific, McDonald's takeout bag litter on the outskirt roads that lead into Columbia. Seriously, what the fuck? Put your goddamn trash in the proper receptacles when you get home. All roads leading into Columbia do not have a sign on them that asks, "Please Throw Your Trash Out Of Your Window, Some Schmuck Will Eventually Get It".

At first, I wrote it off as just assholes who couldn't stand to have trash in their pimped out Neons. I speculated they didn't want grease stains on their freshly installed racing seats. But after 3 years of seeing this, I am convinced this is a more devious problem. One that needs an intervention to be stopped.

I believe it is the work of a lone person, or one small group, with the same common problem - an addiction to McDonald's food. I think it has gotten so bad for them, that they sneak this food so their loved ones won't know of their fucked-up habit. They consume it while driving around and just before entering Columbia, they ditch the evidence that would surely have them on some intervention show on cable TV.

Just like cigarettes, the stench of McDonald's stays in the mouth and on the fingers, but most likely these jerks probably have a pack-and-half a day habit as well. It will catch up to you sooner or later, so just stop. PLEASE. Or you will force me to seek out one of two solutions:

1. Cruising the outskirts of Columbia with a brush guard installed on the front of my Jetta Wagon like some desperate trash hating vigilante version of Michael Knight. Waiting for the bag to fly out of your window, so I can spin out your ass end Spy Hunter style.

2. I will stand on corners around the the outskirts of Columbia dressed in a deerskin loincloth, war paint and with a midget pony in tow. Do you really want to see that? Tear rolling down my cheek. Pure sadness. No, nobody wants to see that.

STOP THROWING YOUR SHIT OUT OF YOUR WINDOWS!

CALAMARI FRITTI $7.50

Another keyboard scribble. I am actually digging this one, too bad I drew it on yellow legal pad. I may go the extra step and add color to this later. It was actually drawn horizontally, the tentacle on left is the one that started it all. [ink]

May I probe you?

Not very prepared today, exhausting weekend (Ava's 5th Birthday Party).

Here is an old drawing of a nurse robot. When I am bored, I tend to draw monsters, eyeballs and robots. That is all I really have say this Monday. [ink]

Oh these little scribbles

Nothing major to post today. I failed miserably last night at an illustration for today. I was rushing to get it done, sort of did not draw it in my style (if I even have a style) and that is when the train wreck happened. I wanted to do a commentary on the events that happened yesterday morning in my home. Fail. Anyway, I may revisit the idea later.

So, without further ado, here are some more "keyboard scribbles" that just happen. [ink]



NOTE: I am NOT in anyway a Tori Amos fan (I looked up the lyrics on Google), I just thought the it was humorous to replace "earthquakes" with scribbles.

Fab Five Freddie told me...

This is a logo I did for a Food Allergy Support Group at Penn State Hershey Children's Hospital. A chipmunk was the first thing I thought of when trying to come up with a mascot that kids can relate too. Although, I did attempt drawing a squirrel as well. I also came up with the name as well, my brief stint as a copy writer.



Full logo:



Both of our girls have food allergies, does not make for easy eating when out in a public setting. Eternal vigilance is required.

...when pigs fly.

I think I am going to try the Illustration Friday next week. I was little late for this week's topic, which is "Magnify." The goal is to illustrate the given topic for the week, then post it on the site. This is where the flying pig idea came from. I think the H1N1 (Swine Flu) paranoia seems a bit out of hand. I hope that I am not wrong, but my gut is telling me not to fall for this hysteria.

Anyway, the original idea was to have the pig in space, flying away from earth. This was illustrating the magnification of the situation of how fast and far this virus is supposed to spread. In the amount of time I wanted to complete this (one evening), I was not liking how the pig looked in space. I then just focused on the pig solely. It didn't turn out bad. [ink + digital]



The thing that gets me is that normal strains of the flu spread just as fast, and take more lives. Yet the WHO (Haha, not Roger & Crew) does not get involved in those scenarios. I feel like they might not be telling us the whole truth, whether for better or for worse. Maybe I am just not seeing the bigger picture...I am after all, an elitist American.

Partly fishy, with a chance of...

Not sure where this came from. I started with the clouds, then I was like, "What the hell do I put in the clouds?" A fish of course. Ugh. Seemed humorous at the time, like some surreal Python-esque inside joke...not really. I think it came about because of some Magritte visions and a little Edward Lear prose. The latter is enjoyed by my girls immensely. They have this book that my mom gave them filled with animal stories by different authors, mostly predating the 20th century. Most of the stories are complete nonsense and filled with odd, sometimes dark humor. Maybe this is how the fish in the clouds came about... [pencil]