Second Tier

In a previous post, I mentioned that I was doing all sorts of extra diet and exercise to cram for my life insurance physical. I wanted to get the top tier, the one reserved for the people that looked the absolute least death-ish. I failed.

Before today, I thought my greatest chance of dying was at the mighty paws of grizzly bears.

I haven't gotten the official word back yet, but I happened to be on the phone with my insurance crew today and I asked how this life insurance thing was going. After a brief pause she told me that I had managed to make it into the "preferred" category! Nice!

Then I asked, "I remember there were a lot of categories, is that the best one?"

"Well, no." She said. "It's the second best."

Resisting the urge to scream, "WHYYYYYYYY!?!?!?!?!" over the phone, I forced myself to ask when I would get the results and she thought they would arrive soon.

But seriously. WHYYYYY!!! I figure it's either my weight (BMI has me at "overweight") or some of my colorful visits to the doctor/hospital that showed up in the questionnaire. Nonetheless, I'm bummed. I thought I had this thing in the bag. I was drinking lettuce!

I guess what remains to be seen is whether I deal with this by going on a month-long pizza and video games binge or something more balanced. Maybe I'll add extra veggies to the pizza. Who knows. It'll depend on what particular aspect of my declining health led to this failure.

After I hung up and during my ensuing workplace meltdown, one of my colleagues diplomatically suggested that it was probably based on my age (i.e. my advancing years). As nice as that sounds, it just isn't so. I saw age scales for all of the categories and they went all the way up.

Maybe I need to go on one of these detox juice fasts. For a year. Or maybe it's time to give my peanut butter cup diet a second chance. Ooh, I could cycle the two.


In exciting baby news, little dude is a wiggler! Anymore, a major source of our evening entertainment comes from watching Julie's belly as he rolls around and kicks stuff. One of Julie's ribs in particular seems to have a special appeal. Hehe. Kick.

My parents certainly look human, but kangaroo-ism is said to be a recessive trait.

You can see different parts shoot up and move around as he kicks and rolls. I like to try to guess how he's positioned by the way he moves around. He even plays with me if I push on different parts. I think it's great that I can play with my kid now :-D


Much to Julie's relief, we're also starting to accumulate baby room furniture. We now have a pack-and-play, which is intended to be his bed until he's crib-sized, and we have a new rocking chair (glider).

The colors are "chablis" and "camel". Who names colors?

The glider was a little challenging to assemble because it arrived broken. Bolts were actually falling out of the box on the front porch. We're just lucky they didn't fall out in the FedEx truck. One of the teeth that locks the glide action in place busted off and three out of four of the bolts that hold the "interesting" base assembly together had fallen out.

The missing tooth was pretty obvious and I'll just re-attach it, but the bolts were more subtle. After we put together the chair, it glided poorly and kinda dragged. It wasn't much fun.

After I had a staring contest with the underside of the chair, I managed to figure out where everything needed to go and got the bolts, arms, and swingers properly reassembled. Now everything is smooth and happy. Though, there is still a very meaningful looking control lever (lefty) that isn't attached to anything.


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