I learned a very cool thing about my new coworkers, yesterday.

I was watching over one coworker’s shoulder, while she instant messengered another coworker. I saw the guy she was talking to had a 20-sided die as his IM icon image. (I noted that the die was showing 11 instead of a natural 20.)

“Oh, he’s a gamer,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said, “one of many around here.”

That statement intrigued me. There were many other gamers at this company? Cool. Now how can I find out who without seeming like a nerd asking around? We went on with our work.

Later, when back at my own desk, I added the gamer coworker as a contact in my IM list. I then sent him a message to say, “Hi.”

During our brief introduction, I asked him, “Why is your d20 icon on 11 instead of natural 20?”

“My birthday is on the 11th,” was his answer. “No one else has ever asked that question before.”

“Well,” I wrote, “I’m a gamer, too. So I notice that kind of thing.”

“Cool. Tom, Doug, and I play D&D with some other folks on Monday nights,” he wrote.

A little while later, again, the original coworker (whose shoulder I had been looking over) was in my office. I asked her if Doug was at our lunch gathering on my first day.

“Yes,” she said, “he was sitting beside me.” She apparently figured out why I asked, because she added, “Those guys play D&D together. And my husband plays, too, but with a different group.”

Amazing. I’ve joined a company full of gamers — and the company has nothing to do with the gaming industry. How freakin’ cool is that?

Bullgrit

This passed Sunday morning Cowgrit and I woke up just before 7:00. We were both immediately surprised. This never happens. Calfgrit4 always wakes up before 6:00.

We laid there for a few minutes, knowing the still and quiet morning time was too good to last much longer. By 7:15, Cowgrit was starting to worry about Calfgrit4. “Is he sick?” she wondered. “I think we should check on him.”

“I’ll wake him up,” I said. I rolled over and snuggled up to Cowgrit. On cue, the boys’ bedroom door opened, and the still and quiet time was over. They have a sense for that kind of thing.

Bullgrit

Our first Calfgrit was a week and a half over due. He was supposed to come on Christmas Eve, but came 4 days into the new year. His first day in the world was normal, but his second day started down a very worrisome path.

The nurses had given Cowgrit and me a break from newborn duty over night and when they wheeled his little bassinet into Cowgrit’s room, we were ready for our first full day of parenthood. After a few minutes, though, we noticed the tiny little guy was breathing strangely. He was breathing very fast.

I didn’t know if that was normal or not for a newborn, but it just looked wrong. Cowgrit (with newborn and pediatric medical experience) knew it was, indeed, very wrong. We called the nurses to our room.

Over the next few hours, the nurses and a doctor watched and examined Calfgrit. They didn’t know what the problem was. The doctor talked with us and gave some very disturbing possibilities. We called our parents to tell them what was happening, and our mothers came rushing back to us.

In the next couple of days, Cowgrit was released from the hospital, but Calfgrit was staying in the newborn intensive care. He had a dozen wires and tubes attached to him — it was a heart-breaking thing to see. He was a big (8 pounds 11 ounces), healthy-looking baby, especially compared to the couple of premies also in the intensive care unit. But he was very sick, and for the first few days we didn’t know why. He just was breathing very rapidly.

We were allowed to visit him as often and as long as we wanted. Cowgrit was at the hospital for several hours every day, and I was there for a couple or so hours after work every day. Eventually, they found the problem on an x-ray.

When we were both in the intensive care unit, the doctor showed us the x-ray and explained the problem. He had pneumonia. “Thank God,” we both said.

I know the other parents in the nursery thought we were terrible for having that reaction, and we laugh at it now. But of all the potential problems we were told the fast breathing could be, pneumonia was the least troublesome — it was completely curable, and would have no lasting effects on Calfgrit.

After seven days in intensive care, Calfgrit came home with us for the first time. He was completely healthy and we were so very happy.

Bullgrit

It’s been getting chillier lately in our area, so more people are wearing long pants, long-sleeve shirts, and jackets. This is logical and sensible attire for autumn. But for some reason, girls just can’t let go of their flip-flops (thongs to you yankees).

Sunday, while the family was shopping at Target, I saw a teenage girl wearing a sweater over a tank top, a miniskirt, leg warmers (yes, leg warmers), and flip-flops. I nudged Cowgrit and surreptitiously pointed at the girl. Cowgrit looked at her, then looked at me, “What in the world?”

The leg warmers alone would have been good for a nostalgic chuckle, but leg warmers with flip-flops? And flip-flops in late October?

A couple hours later, in Panera for lunch, I spotted a college-age girl wearing a coat, a scarf, long stretchy pants, and flip-flops. If she’s cold enough to need a coat and scarf, aren’t her feet freezing?

Are flip-flops so fashionable nowadays that wearing them is more important than warmth? Or am I to believe that women’s feet don’t get cold?

Bullgrit