Fashion Statement

I'm a self-admitted, style-challenged individual and could probably deserve a citation by the Fashion Police on any given day. But there are apparently some lines even I won't cross, and that must include approving of a mismatched ensemble. One evening, Griffin emerged from his room wearing a green pajama top with monkeys and bananas, and blue shorts with fire trucks and dalmations. When Cherise commented on it, Griffin told her he was "trying to freak Mom out." He admitted on a later date when I asked him to don the same outfit so I could take a picture that he much preferred to wear the matching set "because it looks gooder."

On a unrelated strain, here is another comment on the weather. Today Makenna announced in her high-volumed voice, "It's so hot that my armpits are crying!"

The Rest of the Story

The day after I last wrote, Darren went to the doctor to see what he had to say. Darren told him of his experience with heat exhaustion symptoms, to which the doctor asked if he had any unusual rashes. As a matter of fact, that morning, Darren had noticed some red blotches on his left foot. The doctor took a look at the foot and stated his conclusions. He suspected that Darren had a staph infection (that could have gotten into his body by way of the cracks from the athlete's foot he picked up at scout camp). After an explanation that his body couldn't deal with the infection and the heat at the same time, Darren felt relieved that it wasn't just that he was becoming a hot weather wimp. The doctor gave him a prescription and told him he should be fine in 48 hours and that he could go back to work then.
Over the next 24 hours, his foot proceeded to get worse instead of better and finally stabilized. His temperature had pretty much gotten back to normal, but there was no reversal of the rash and swelling by Monday morning, so he stayed home from work. (His foot was so swollen, it would have been difficult to squeeze it into a shoe, and quite uncomfortable, I'd imagine, not to mention how bad it would feel to walk on it all day.) By Tuesday, there was still very little, or no improvement. He called the doctor's office to see if he could take another look at his foot and was told that he could come in next week. Finally, after convincing him with my great powers of persuasion (nagging), today he went to urgent care, where they ruled out diabetes and a fracture and stuck with the diagnosis of a staph infection. They did switch his medication. We hope it does the trick.

Now for something a little lighter. When Darren registered his Webkinz online, his address must have been added to a solicitation list. The other day, he received a post card in the mail, inviting him to visit the Princess Palace, a boutique for girls. If I were to use one of Griffin's standard smart alec answers, I would have to say, "That's what you get (for getting a Webkinz, Darren)."