What Beautiful Blue Teeth You Have

Okay. I want to see a picture of this guy. Seriously. What the? How do they do this kind of stuff and who even thinks it up. Don't forget to brush your teeth...I mean eye....I mean...


DUBLIN (AFP) - An Irishman blinded by an explosion two years ago has had his sight restored after doctors inserted his son's tooth in his eye, he said on Wednesday.


Bob McNichol, 57, from County Mayo in the west of the country, lost his sight in a freak accident when red-hot liquid aluminium exploded at a re-cycling business in November 2005.

"I thought that I was going to be blind for the rest of my life," McNichol told RTE state radio.

After doctors in Ireland said there was nothing more they could do, McNichol heard about a miracle operation called Osteo-Odonto-Keratoprosthesis (OOKP) being performed by Dr Christopher Liu at the Sussex Eye Hospital in Brighton in England.

The technique, pioneered in Italy in the 1960s, involves creating a support for an artificial cornea from the patient's own tooth and the surrounding bone.

The procedure used on McNichol involved his son Robert, 23, donating a tooth, its root and part of the jaw.

McNichol's right eye socket was rebuilt, part of the tooth inserted and a lens inserted in a hole drilled in the tooth.

The first operation lasted ten hours and the second five hours.

"It is pretty heavy going," McNichol said. "There was a 65 percent chance of me getting any sight.

"Now I have enough sight for me to get around and I can watch television. I have come out from complete darkness to be able to do simple things," McNichol said.

My Space for Dogs?

Visit my family

Join the Dogster community

I must be bored because I just joined Dogster, and I can't say that I really see the point of it, but oh well. I think they are going to send me some free Febreeze junk to make my house smell better, which is worth something. As Brian of Mexico fame would say, "What do I get for free????" Febreeze, apparently.

Life with Daryl

We've been watching too much TV. So much, in fact, that Daryl's been able to work TV phrases into our daily lives. We were watching a VH1 show the other night. Guess what Daryl yells out now when Duncan is crying?



You'll have to go watch the video on YouTube to find out..

And then, of course, we have the inevitable comment that Daryl uses whenever Duncan has a dirty diaper...

All My Children

I have many children, and much like the the old woman who lived in the shoe, I oftentimes do not know what to do. Getting rid of any of my children is not an option as all of them are unique and therefore very special to me. Here is a list of my children and their unique attributes:



Official Name: Duncan
Nickname: Chunky Man
Favorite Food: Breast milk
Calming Influence: Rocking and lullabies
Daily motivator: Eating
Favorite pastimes: Sticking his tongue out at Daddy, taking baths
Best friend: Barkley




Official Name: Barkley
Nickname: The police
Favorite Food: Bunny Surprise
Calming Influence: None
Daily motivator: Chasing squirrels, policing the house
Favorite pastimes: Watching Animal Planet
Favorite noise: The kitchen timer at grandma's house
Best friend: Sweetums



Official Name: Sweetums
Nickname: Sweety Sweetums
Favorite Food: Bananas
Calming Influence: Going upside down in someone's lap
Daily motivator: Laying by the heat vent
Favorite pastimes: Seeing if she can jump in the bed without getting kicked out
Least favorite noise: Opening garbage bags
Best friend: Barkley



Official Name: Gizmo
Nickname: Fatso
Favorite Food: Doritos, potato chips
Calming Influence: Being in her cat carrier
Daily motivator: Eating
Favorite pastimes: Eating
Favorite noise: The opening of the food cupboard
Best friend: Jenny Craig



Official Name: Daryl
Nickname: D
Favorite Food: His mom's macaroni and cheese
Calming Influence: Ice cream
Daily motivator: Watching sports
Favorite pastimes: Building fires, sticking his tongue out at Duncan
Favorite noise: Farts
Best friend: Scrabulous

My favorite 80s Music Videos

I love the 80s...but more than that, I love the music videos from the 80s. Have you seen today's videos? No? I'm not surprised. As far as I know MTV doesn't even play music videos anymore. I'm not sure how that happened, but honestly, it was a good decision. I mean, I would much rather watch The Hills than a crummy video by Fergie or some other such nastiness.

Who doesn't love this video? You gotta love the lady's 80s hair..and the synthesizer.


Sting...all crazy hair and cello.


Love this one too...another great keyboard synth. More cello too. While I was looking for this one on YouTube, I saw this comment underneath it...don't know what it means, but I like it.

"I, as a gipsy singer from a diffent music style and from different music markets,can say that this video is fantastic, different and so it is successfull as it caught the differency and a good synthesis in music. congractulations. best wishes. cansever"

Best wishes to you too, Cansever.



This video would have made the list even if the ONLY thing it featured was the tambourine player chick. How awesome is her outfit? Blonde waitresses take their trays...They spin around and they cross the floor
They've got the moves (oh whey oh)...You drop your drink then they bring you more...
Where are all the cops??

The Best Christmast Present Ever?

When I was done giving birth, Daryl decided I had earned myself a Jacuzzi tub. He made secret plans to get me one for Christmas. However, it turns out that I have an until now untapped psychic sense about secret Christmas plans. I jokingly asked if I was going to get a Jacuzzi tub for Christmas and because of Daryl's inability to lie to me with a straight face, I found out about the plan. Turns out that jacuzzi tubs are a little pricey and the installation is a lot pricey, so I might have to have a few more kids before I truly earn a jacuzzi tub. Sad, sad.

So, this morning I get up and Daryl says, "I have a really good idea for a combined Christmas gift that I can get and we can afford...it will be for both of us and it's a really, really good idea." I asked what his idea was, but he said that it would be a surprise. Hm.... I reluctantly agreed. I mean, this was the guy that was planning the jacuzzi tub, so it had to be something good...right?

Wrong. Later on Daryl was going on and on about going out and getting firewood from the gardening center near our house. You see, they run an advertisement that crawls along the bottom of the Weather Channel's Local on the 8's, which I watch at night a lot while I'm feeding Duncan because there's nothing else on. Daryl sees the advertisement and is reminded about the firewood, so every day he's been talking about having a fire in the fireplace. Just to make conversation, I said, "Yeah, we still need to get one of those glass doors for the fireplace." We talked about getting one last winter, but we never did because you have to special order them and we just didn't have that kind of energy. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I saw the look on Daryl's face and knew that this was the big surprise Christmas present he had in mind. What? What? What?? This is soooo not in the same league as a jacuzzi tub. I told him that I would not enjoy fireplace doors as my Christmas present. Then, maybe because I'm sleep deprived or maybe because I'm a jerk, I told him that if he had gone ahead and gotten me fireplace doors for Christmas, it would have been worse than when my dad got my mom canning equipment for Christmas. Daryl disagreed, but then I offered to call up any of my girlfriends because I knew that they would tell Daryl on speakerphone that fireplace glass doors is not a good Christmas present ever. Luckily, we didn't have to go there.

Here is a list of other things that I don't want for Christmas ever:
Canning equipment, a garage door, new windows, a couch, potted plants, a new kitchen sink, a new driveway, a mailbox, recessed lighting, a dishwasher, a refrigerator, actually any standard appliance...

Ug.

Milk Factory

Many people comment on how frequently Duncan eats. Like Daryl said yesterday, "You don't get that chunky by not eating." True dat.

I wonder if he will start giving it a rest anytime soon. I've found that pretty much the only thing I can get done while he's eating some good, quality TV watching. I mean, I've watched just about everything there is to watch on TV. I've caught this week's episode of The Hills at least three times. (Do you think Heidi and Spencer are going to break up? Uh, drama!) Thank the good Lord for DVR...otherwise I'd be going crazy having to watch the stupid, stupid stuff on daytime TV. By the way, who thought it would be a good idea to let Drew Carey host The Price is Right? I feel like the poor man is doing community service or something....he seems to loathe the contestants, the prizes...all of it. Not Bob. Bob was always sincerely happy to be there; although, I do think that he thought of all the contestants as peons whilst he was king of the castle. Maybe that's the attitude Drew Carey needs to adopt.

Anyways, the problem comes when the only thing left on the DVR is Intervention and I've run out of things to watch. Let's face it. Intervention is a good show, but I can only watch someone shoot up with heroin if I'm in the right mood. Then, if they don't get better at the treatment center at the end, I'm totally depressed. Why do I have like 6 episodes of Intervention saved and nothing else? Because I used up all my Reno 911s earlier in the day and Sam the Cooking Guy doesn't come on until Tuesday. THat's why.

Last night was brutal. We don't have a DVR in the bedroom, and it was 5 am, so I was not about to go out to the living room. So, I'm stuck with regular live TV. Not to worry, I thought. I'll watch the morning news and laugh at the traffic report like I've done every morning. (I can laugh because I'm not about to drive anywhere at 5 in the morning...haha.) BUT, I forgot it was Saturday (see, that's what happens when you stop going to work). There is no news on at 5 am on Saturday. However, I was able to see how clean the STEAM SHARK can get your floors. Sparkling!!! I can see how people can be convinced to buy those things at 5 am. I mean, you're just not in your right mind and you're thinking...Oh my gosh...the steamer pad is machine washable...Right ON!!

If only I could read one handed....then I would be all set. I find it difficult to hold the book close enough to me and not smush Duncan underneath it though. Plus, turning the pages with one hand is no fun.

December is Better Without Work

I like not going to work. Don't you? I don't miss the traffic, my friend at the top of the off ramp with his "I'm hungry" sign, the complaints from sleep-deprived teenagers, grading essays, any of it, really....

I thought I might get bored, but I'm not yet. Duncan fills my day with diaper changes, feedings, baths, and the occasional crying fit. Even when he spits up all over me, it's hard not to smile and be happy because at least I'm not at work. Don't get me wrong, I like my job and all....it's just nice to do something else for a while.

What I like best is that my life is finally simple. Yesterday's goal was to eat something good for dinner. A few days before that, I wanted to make cookies. Check and check. I feel so accomplished. This week I want to do an hour or two of Christmas shopping and clean out the maternity clothes from my closet. I know these don't sound like very lofty goals, but I really do have to plan my whole day around them. I'm telling you...making the cookies took some strategic planning.

Now, I don't have much more to say here, so here is the slide show that I made of Duncan. (It has several surprises, so watch carefully.)

Oh, Baby!

Duncan has finally been born and I am finally feeling well enough to blog again. Babies take up a lot of time and I'm really bad at typing one-handed, so I guess the blogs might be few and far between for a while.

I know you all like updates, so I wanted to tell you that my foot blog was right on the money because my feet got a lot worse. Swelling and a rash...oohhh...ahhh.... I had three dermatologists come to look at my feet while I was in the hospital and they didn't know what was up and finally one of them said, "Let's go back and Google it." Nice to know all that medical school teaches them to access Google when they're confused. Aren't there like medical books they can look in or something? Or at least a doctor website? Google? Really? Luckily, the doctors must have guessed right and given me the right medicine because my feet are almost back to normal. I would never have guessed my pregnancy and labor and delivery would lead to such dramatic foot problems.

Duncan is the most beautiful baby I've ever seen and I'm pretty sure he's the smartest and the strongest too. Of course, no one would call me an impartial judge. But, in case you want to see for yourself, here are some pics. Once I get a cord for the video camera, I'll add video too. (Something to look forward to, I know).

Waiting for Baby

Well, now we're just waiting for the baby. I get to stop working on Tuesday. Yippee. How fun is that? Everyone tells me that the baby will be far more work than work was, but I don't care right now. See, right now I know that staying home with the baby still in my belly is less work than going to work with the baby in my belly. Daryl wants to know what I'm going to do with all my newfound time. Should I tell him that I'm going to eat bon-bons and get addicted to soap operas? Probably not. I told him that I might actually cook dinner once in a while. He seemed pretty happy about that.
Barkley and Sweetums are waiting patiently for the baby too. Well, maybe just Barkley is. I don't think Sweetums has enough brain power to really figure out what's going on. Barkley knows something is up and she's just not sure that she likes it. You have to click on the picture to see Barkley's facial expression.

Big Foot

Why does pregnancy make your feet big? I don't understand it. And I don't like it. I don't like that I had to buy the BIGGEST shoe that they had in the women's department to accommodate my super-sized feet. I don't like that none of my tennis shoes fit and that I have to wear Daryl's. Wait...is that more embarrassing for me or for Daryl? Haha. Not sure.

Isn't the picture nice? Barkley came to help because she's a helpful dog. I think that my toes look like Vienna sausages. Also, if I wear socks for like 2 minutes, I get all sucked in at the ankles like in the picture. That, I guess, is my normal leg size...maybe.

I Couldn't Make This Up if I Tried

At the end of the night last night, I was already putting this blog entry together in my head. It's like I got a call from God that said, "Sandy, I'm going to give you the best blog material you've ever seen. You just need to find the words..."
So, it all started after a long day of washing baby clothes, folding them, and putting them away. My mom came over and helped me lug laundry up and down the stairs. We also put together a bunch of assembly required baby stuff. Needless to say, we were pretty tired and hungry by the time Daryl got home from work. We decided to call my Dad and brother so that they could come over and go out to eat with us for dinner. Since my dad and brother had a long day of destroying the front porch and watching football, they agreed that dinner out sounded like a fine idea.
We all piled into my dad's Aztec and headed off to Shore's Inn, previously one of our favorite dinner spots. We were heading down 9 mile when we saw police car lights flashing. Gawking as we drove by, we saw that one of those little mail trucks had gone the wrong way off the road onto the grass and smashed into a small tree. The mailman was sitting in the back of the mail truck looking rather dejected. It was very sad, but we sort of laughed at him a little bit because you just couldn't help it. Maybe that's when karma decided to rear its ugly head.
We got to Shores and were sad to find that the non-smoking section was full. So, the server offered to seat us outside on the heated, enclosed patio. We agreed that would be fine. We were the only people out on the patio, but that was fine. It was nice and warm and there was a big screen TV showing the football games. My dad was especially excited for dinner since he had to fast all day today for a medical test he's having done on Monday. He was looking forward to a good last meal. Alas, it wasn't going to be such a good last meal.
Everything was going along just fine for a little while. Everyone ordered drinks and we were perusing the menu when suddenly the door from the inside of the restaurant to the patio swung open. The door was behind me, and I couldn't see what was happening immediately, but I could certainly hear it. A rather drunk woman in a business suit was bellowing at the top of her lungs, "I'm going to f__ing kill her! I'm going to f___ing kill her!" A bunch of people were trying to hold her back and keep her outside. I looked at Daryl, my parents, and my brother with raised eyebrows. What was going on? We were just a little shocked. We sat still, almost embarrassed to witness what was obviously a drunken display of drama, and waited for what we thought would inevitably happen. We thought that the swearing lady and her friends would relocate somewhere else. Anywhere. We thought they would see us, notice us, be embarrass and move more than five feet away from our table. We looked in the direction of the door that led to the outside, hoping they would get the hint, but unfortunately it seemed that they were determined to play out their mini-soap opera right next to our table. It was almost like dinner theater. The woman continued to scream, cry, and use the f word repeatedly and finally we decided that they must not have noticed us sitting there. We made rather loud comments about feeling awkward, but nothing changed. The rant continued. I excused myself from the table because I was starting to feel very stressed out and thought I might be able to go inside and report that there was complete madness happening out on the patio. I reported the incident to two guys clearing off a table since, and they said, "Yeah, we know. The manager's out there trying to calm her down." Oh. So, one of the guys in suits was the manager. Strange. So, I returned and the scene continued to play out for at least five more minutes. At one point another woman come out....I could only deduce from the sobbing, swearing woman's reaction that this was the woman she wanted to kill. She looked at the woman and said, "Get away from me, go away." The second woman went back inside. All this, still just a few yards away from our dinner table. Maybe they were waiting for us to leave??
Finally, the woman had calmed down enough to go back inside. The suits took her back in and we all started laughing. It was by far the most ridiculous scene we had ever witnessed. As soon as we started to relax and wonder out loud what happened, the doors swung open again and this time they were trying to take the screaming lady outside to a car. She got half way across Mack Ave, and then tried to sit down. We were watching her out the window wondering why the manager had let her back inside in the first place. Then, one of the suits came into the patio area (keep in mind that we were still the only ones sitting out there and our waiter was nowhere to be seen), and this guy starts up a loud conversation on his cell phone about how the lady had a meltdown. He was in the middle of giving a word by word play by play when we just all started laughing. How many times were we going to hear the f word before our dinner was over?
Then, he actually turned around and got mad at us for laughing. He told the person on the other end that we were a table of insensitive jerks laughing about what was obviously a very serious situation. Hm... Yes, I guess we had been in an insensitive mood all night.
Finally our food came, and we looked expectantly at our waiter for some sort of apology. Nothing. Then, he came back to see how everything was, so I asked him, "Was your manager just out here to see the incident that took place?" It was clear from his face that he didn't know what I was talking about. "I'll get the manager for you," he said. She came out and obviously she was NOT one of the suits that had been out earlier. We tried to explain everything to her. She quickly apologized, but you could tell that she really didn't get the fact that the people had been performing for us for a good ten minutes, so we reexplained. She told us that there was a funeral for a city prosecutor who had killed himself and that these were all his friends. Lovely. His girlfriend was apparently the one having a meltdown.
Now, I understand that the situation she explained is tough, but at the same time, what are you doing at a bar getting tanked, making a fool of yourself after a loved one's funeral? There's a point at which you just need to all go home, and these people had obviously passed that point hours ago.
By now there was another group at a table near ours. Little did they know what they had missed. Soon enough though, they were able to enjoy their own tableside drama. The woman who was the target of earlier death threats came outside to make a cell phone call. She leaned up against the side of the table of newcomers and started blasting off foul language to whoever was on the other end. The newcomers looked mortified and we just gave them a knowing look. Yes, we had been there done that.
We had several more visits to our table from the manager checking to see if we had recovered from the craziness. We kept ensuring her that all was well. Finally, we got the check and even though we hadn't said anything we totally expected some sort of compensation for the terrible antics we were forced to witness. Nope. Nada. I'm not the kind of person to ever expect discounts off my bill. I don't even get upset if a server forgets something or if the food isn't cooked properly. I'm pretty laid back about all that, but I thought this was an exceptional set of circumstances.
So, my brother has vowed to write the best complaint letter ever that will detail how no one came to our rescue out on the patio. He's hoping to get some free ribs at least.

Things Not to Tell Your Pregnant Wife

1. Taking care of the baby will probably be a lot like taking care of a puppy.
   
   
2. You sure are eating a lot today.
   
   
3. You have been complaining a lot lately.
   
   
4. Babies feel like little monkeys when you hold them.
   
   
5. When are we going to have another one?

Is There Ever Such a Thing as Too Much Jewelry?

I was at my parents' house watching the MSU football game. They had this guy on during the game, and he used to play for the Spartans. Don't ask me what his name was because that's like asking me how many times I sneezed last week.

Anyway he had a giant diamond in both ears. My mom commented that the diamonds were so big that they had to be fake. I disagreed and told her that I bet they were real diamonds (we're talking at least 2 1/2 carats). She asked how he could afford such diamonds when he was still in college. My Dad reminded her that he wasn't in college anymore (they just told us that at the bottom of the screen, but she didn't see it). This guy now plays for the NFL, so he can afford big diamonds I guess.

So, then my mom changed strategies on us. She accepted the fact that the diamond earrings were probably real and that this guy could afford them. Now she wanted to know why someone would want such big diamond earrings. She suggested that they would look better in some sort of setting perhaps with other jewels. Even then, she said, they would still be quite gaudy. I mean, she's got a point. Unless you're the queen of England, it's a little pretentious to wear such big diamonds even if you can afford them. Somehow I don't think that this NFL player had considered any of this though.

It was at this point that my Dad got all frustrated and piped up with what may be the funniest comment ever to come out of his mouth. He simply said, "It's bling."
My mom looked confused. She said, "What?"
"Bling, that's what it's called. He's got bling on."
"Oh," she said.
That seemed to be the answer she had been looking for all along.

Next week we're going to teach my mom about crunk cups.

Ouch.

I went for my three hour glucose tolerance test today. They had to draw my blood four different times over the three hours. Needles to say, it was the very best part of my day.

Today made me realize that I would much rather work with teenagers than old people. During my first hour or so at the medical office where I had to go for the test I was secretly envying the people who worked there. It was so quiet, peaceful, and lovely. I started to think, "Now that...that...that is a real job. The workers are doing their work, but they don't even look like they want to cry."

About an hour later, I had to change my tune. The old people started to come in. I had to give the workers credit. They barely flinched even though I was going crazy in my own head from just being a bystander to it all. Here are some things that I just wouldn't be able to tolerate if I worked in a medical office and the old people came in like that:

1. Hearing everyone's life history and long lists of medical problems in great detail.
2. Having a lady explain to me why her insurance has changed in such great detail that it takes at least seven minutes.
3. Watching the old people refuse to sit down in the comfy waiting room chairs....They want to be next darn it!
4. Having the old people pretend that they are really at a restaurant instead of a medical testing facility. I'll explain.... See, the old people kept bugging the office help because they wanted to know exactly who would be next. Then, if they didn't like the answer, they would argue. "I am very sure that I was here before that man." One woman even came over to me wayyyy on the other side of the room from where she was standing to see what kind of paperwork I was filling out. Apparently she was trying to see which test I was in for so that she could be sure I wouldn't be cutting in front of her. She wasn't subtle about it either. She came and leaned way over my shoulder. Much to her great disappointment, however, I was only doing a crossword puzzle since I had already been there for two hours and was just waiting for the time when I could have my next blood draw. Let's just get something straight here. As far as I know, medical offices have never ever worked in the same manner as Bill Knapp's (nor should they). You aren't necessarily served in any discernible order. I can see getting upset if you've been waiting for a long time, but the old people started all that up as soon as they got there.

So, it made the old people pretty mad when I was called in at 10:15 and they were all gathered around the lab doorway thinking that they were next. You would think they might step aside for a big ol' pregnant lady, but they didn't. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if the one lady had the power to do so, she would have lit me on fire and sent me to hell using only her soul-piercing gaze. What they all didn't realize is that I was probably the only one out of all of the people there who HAD to get my blood drawn at a certain time. Boy, were they ever mad. I could still hear them arguing with the poor phelbotomist when I left.

Dear Complaint Department

I wanted to resist the urge to write anything on here tonight because my mother always told me that if I didn't have anything good to say, I should say nothing at all. Unfortunately, I am currently fasting (doctor's orders) to get ready for my glucose test tomorrow, so it's pretty hard to resist anything besides food. Actually, I don't even want food. I just want a giant glass of water. Giant. I'm really thirsty. Sandpaper tongue thirsty. My directions from the hospital tell me that I can only have water in small quantities though. Probably a giant glass of water isn't a small quantity.

I guess I have some good news. The first day of school was pretty good. I only heard one kid say that they wanted to kill themselves because they had me as their teacher. It's funny, when I set out to become an English teacher, inducing suicidal thoughts was never one of my goals. Just an unanticipated perk I guess.

I kind of forgot how melodramatic teenagers can be though. They are pretty funny sometimes. The school has a new name badge ID policy where the kids and teachers have to wear these goofy IDs on lanyards all day long. Guess who gets to enforce the new policy? The teachers. As if we aren't busy with anything else....The excuses started right away. "The lanyard bothers my neck." "I forgot." "I'm just keeping mine on my desk." "Mine's in my pocket." "I didn't know we actually had to wear them." God help them all when they have jobs and have to wear a badge to work. God help them even more if they're me and they're responsible for a bunch of people who refuse to wear their IDs.

Yee Haw...A New Post

Well, I haven't posted in so long and I'd like to say that it's been because I've been so busy brewing up this baby, but I will admit that it's more because of myspace. Myspace is the teufel.

My pregnancy counter on myspace says that I will have been pregnant 200 days tomorrow. That's a lot of days to do anything. It's especially a lot of days to feel like crap. That's the price you pay for bringing new life into the world though.

People keep telling me that I won't be able to sleep all day when the baby comes. Are they for real? Maybe I can just add him to the bed along with the dogs and the cat. I think there's probably room.

No More Teachers' Dirty Looks

Oh, oh, oh....school's out. I don't know how, but somehow I survived this stupid, stupid year. For once, I am done on Friday and I don't have to go back next week to finish anything up. Knowing how this year has been though, I'll probably have to go to teacher court. My friend had to go to teacher court once. Teacher court is when some self-righteous parent wants to challenge a grade that you've give and you have to go explain how you arrived at the grade. I mean, I wouldn't expect to have any problems normally, but with this year, I've learned to expect the unexpected.

So, let's celebrate. Wait, I can't. Okay. You celebrate for me. Go ahead and have a nice cranberry vodka for me. That's my favorite drink (usually). I'll just sit here and drink my Snapple Iced Tea. No, that's sad, isn't it? I do need to celebrate somehow. Okay, I've got it. You can watch this video that combines two of my very favorite things into one.

China is Stealing All the Rain

Is it just me, or should China think this whole deal over a little bit more than they have??


China rolls out the big guns, aiming for a dry Olympics
Updated 6/29/2006 9:04 PM ET

By Calum MacLeod, USA TODAY

FRAGRANT HILLS, China — When he's not tending cherry orchards outside Beijing, Yu Yonggang can be found behind the twin barrels of a 37mm anti-aircraft gun, blasting shells at passing clouds.

Yu is one of 37,000 peasants enlisted by the Chinese government to help produce rain in parched areas. The 45-year-old farmer works with China's other trigger-happy rain men to water the crops, break up damaging hailstorms and put out forest fires. After a sandstorm blew through the capital in May, he lobbed shells and rockets skyward to coax rains that washed sand and grit from city streets.

Now Yu and the other rainmakers face their toughest challenge: making sure it stays dry for the opening ceremony of the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games. The idea is for the peasant gunners to work with meteorologists watching radar in the capital. Together, they will hunt pregnant rain clouds and pound them with rockets containing silver iodide. The hope is that any moisture will fall before the clouds can threaten the parade of athletes and lighting of the Olympic flame at the new National Stadium.

China's leaders want the Games to be a showcase for the country's astonishing economic development. The cloud-busting effort shows how far they will go to ensure that nothing interferes with the pageantry.

Yu, who wears a green military jacket and helmet in his gunner's seat, is already feeling pressure to perform. "The whole world will be watching the ceremony," he says. "We must guarantee its success."

In August, the Beijing Weather Modification Office will place the area's 20 firing sites on standby for a major test. In the Fragrant Hills west of Beijing, Yu and six others at the Man-Made Hail-Prevention and Rain-Increasing Work Station will be at the ready, manning four anti-aircraft batteries, which are army castoffs from the 1960s. Yu's wife will talk to Beijing by walkie-talkie, getting the all-clear from aviation authorities and relaying the firing order from the meteorologists. Yu says he hopes to dissipate any clouds completely, increasing the barrage and concentrating his fire if necessary.

Two summers from now, "if rain clouds are headed toward the Olympic stadium, we will intercept them," says Zhang Qiang, a "weather modifier" at the Beijing Meteorological Bureau who will issue the command. "But I can't guarantee the ceremony (will be dry). If there is a big rainstorm, I have no way to stop it."

The U.S. pioneered cloud-seeding in the 1940s and '50s, but the government has cooled on its effectiveness, leaving the field to specialist companies. In China, among the most water-poor nations, the state tries to squeeze every drop from above.

"China has the largest rainmaking (operation) in the world," ahead of Russia and Israel, says professor Wang Guanghe, a 20-year rainmaking veteran at China's Meteorological Sciences Academy. "Each province reports results to us of between 10% to 25%" additional rainfall.

The Chinese government rarely shirks nature's challenge. It recently completed the $25 billion Three Gorges Dam, the world's largest, which was built despite the objections of environmentalists at home and abroad. Weather manipulation is an enthusiastic past-time for Beijing, possibly because so many of the country's Communist leaders are engineers.

The forecast calls for more rain. China's five-year plan urges an increase in man-made precipitation. Central planners want an additional 65 billion cubic yards a year — nearly enough to fill the Yellow River, the country's second-largest river.

China began cloud-busting in 1958. Now "it is increasing every year," says Wang, who cites the drought plaguing northern China as the main reason to fire rain-inducing shells or soar into the skies in cloud-seeding airplanes.

Any chemical fallout is negligible, Wang says. "We have found no evidence of pollution in the rain."

The need for rainwater has produced squabbles on the ground. Two years ago, five thirsty cities in Henan province accused each other of "cloud theft" for their efforts to trigger chemically induced showers.

Older generations of Chinese used to beat bells to pray for rain, Yu recalls. Today, he puts his faith in cigarette-sized sticks of chemicals loaded inside rockets and shells. "Every time we fire, it rains — lightly or heavily," says the farmer, who earns $125 a month during the May-to-September firing season. "At first, the other villagers didn't believe we could make it rain, but most accept it now."

In the Fragrant Hills, locals complain about noise from Yu's guns. He says he's had to fit the firing station with thicker glass because powerful shocks from his anti-aircraft barrages smashed windows.

Annual training programs and the use of licenses have curbed accidents among China's rainmakers, Wang says. Even so, a passerby in southwest Chongqing was killed by part of a rain cannon that flew off during firing in May.

Zhang, the Beijing meteorologist, says most farmers see the benefit of cloud-seeding and welcome chemically induced rains. Five years ago, a storm near the capital killed 139 ducks, crushing them with hailstones. Today, such incidents are rare, she says.

Rain won't be the only threat when the Olympics take place in 2008. Beijing's smog is as big a threat to China's image-makers as a few raindrops.

That's somebody else's problem, says weather guru Zhang: "I can't do anything about the air pollution."

Occupational Hazards

This is about the point in the year when I really start feeling sorry for myself and wonder why I ever thought it would be a good idea to try to teach English to teenagers.

I sometimes think about other people's jobs and how comparatively normal they must be. For example, unless you are also a teacher, you probably did not have to say the following things while you were at work this week:

1. Why are you throwing a medicine ball in the middle of the hallway?

2. Please take out your earphones while I'm talking to you.

3. Why did I kick you off the computer yesterday? I kicked you off the the computer because you were searching wikipedia for the word nipple. That's really not appropriate.

4. What are you spitting into your Gatorade bottle?

5. Twice and two times mean the same thing.

6. I don't think it's wise to compare immigration to the United States by illegal aliens to the vacation that you took to Mexico over spring break.

7. There is no movie version of Catcher in the Rye.

8. Why are you cutting your hair in the middle of class?

And...unless you are a teacher, you most certainly did not get an email like this one:

Between 1st and 2nd hour a student sprayed “super fart smell” from a can in the A building & the south breezeway to B building. It was very strong and we have opened doors to clear the air.

We have identified a suspect and will take care of that end.

Please DO NOT share the specifics with the students as that will only encourage future incidents.

Actually, I have to fess up. I was not actually a victim of the super fart smell incident. The email above was sent to all the teachers at the OTHER high school in the district and one of my friends from the other school forwarded the email to me to let me know what a good day she was having.

Only a few more weeks to go...