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After being static for a number of years, a substantial change has occurred in my employment. It began innocently enough with a form letter from Abbott Hematology, informing us that as of January 1, 2013 they would no longer support the Cell-Dyne 1700 that we use to to perform complete blood cell counts (CBCs). Support in this context means no service contracts (they agree, for a exorbitant amount of money up front, to come and fix our instrument whenever it breaks down), no standards (used to calibrate the instrument), no controls (used twice per day to verify that the instrument gives the expected readings), and no reagents. Basically, with the stroke of a pen, this complex, sophisticated, computer driven instrument has been transmuted into a boat anchor. The fallout from this was that Sun Life decided not to replace the instrument in San Manuel. From that decision came the decision to reduce the status of the lab in San Manuel from "moderately complex" to "waived" (at a substantial savings in accreditation costs). The one and only requirement of someone working in a "waived" lab is that they be able to count to two. Now, I'm not too quick sometimes, but it did occur to me that I might be slightly over qualified for that job. Further a MA (medical assistant-of which Sun Life in San Manuel has a plethora) could do everything in a waived lab, and be paid half of what they were paying me...

At that point my Machiavellian character roused itself, and I suggested that we send all our samples, both the hematology we had been doing in-house and the chemistry that we had been routing to an outside lab, to the Sun Life lab in Casa Grande. Then I volunteered to work the late shift in Casa Grande analyzing these added samples. It was touch-and-go for a while, but in the end I kept my mutated job. I am now driving to Casa Grande, scheduled to work a noon to nine shift. In actuality, I am burning two hours of vacation Tuesday thru Friday, and working 3 p.m. to 9 p.m. That is a great schedule, and if my calculations are correct, I should be able to maintain it through most of May. At that point, retirement is imminent. Google maps (see below) gives the distance as 73.2 miles and projects one hour and 27 minutes to make the trip. My odometer registers it at 75.6 miles, and it takes me just about exactly a hour and a half. One downside is that this commute isn't particularly kind to my vehicle. The Geo just rolled past 377,000 miles, burns a quart of oil every 1500 miles, and has started making funny noises. I have been expecting some catastrophic failure for the last few years, but the car has proved to be more tenacious than some I have owned. My plan is to drive it till it dies, so stay tuned for late breaking news...

The move had another unintended consequence. This image shows an experiment to see how many desiccant packets I could get in a bowl--the kicker being that when I had reached the limit I would know it was time to retire. Since they use a different system in the Casa Grande lab, we'll know the number and I may have to work forever...

The table on which Grandma Cocks used to dine has made the rounds after her demise. Nathen's kids, using it as a stage (honest Mom, we weren't jumping on it...), caved it in. Nathen, using it as an excuse to acquire a table saw and router, repaired it, restoring the intricate sliding joints, etc. Shortly thereafter, it came to live at my house where it became a beast of burden. I should have realized something was amiss when I noted that round objects placed on the table's end tended to roll towards it's center, but it seems that lately, subtle clues elude me. To marginally shorten a long story, the table collapsed again but, fortunately, no one was killed. Lacking both Nathen's patience and woodworking toys, I effected one of my signature repairs--crude but effective. I took three lengths of angle iron and affixed them to the underside of the table top, driving three screws into each end piece and two screws into each leaf, for a total of thirty screws. The leaves are no longer removable, but I some hope that this repair will be permanent.

Jon is officially out of the Army, and is (for some unknown period of time) living in the Mesa area. He has come to visit us several times. It is interesting to watch kids grow up and confront the challenges the encounter.

Brian Cox is considering ascending Baboquivari Peak, and David Ellis wanted a photo of it for a book he is writing (after neglecting to take one while living in its shadow for a few years).

I accepted their invitation to accompany them on what was a reconnaissance trip for Brian and a photo op for Dave. For a brief time I considered joining Brian on his upcoming climb, but soon concluded that I have no business being on or around vertical real estate. This image, with the exception of the clean socks and shirt, is reminiscent of Mongolia...

I have not produced many finished products, but I have been keeping my rock saw busy. I gathered up a bunch of the specimens that Barbara and I collected along Route 191 (above Clifton near the intersection with the Juan Miller Road) and cast them in a block of plaster of paris. This kind of rock I used to call desert rose, but recently discovered (in Peterson's Field Guide to Rocks and Minerals) that that name refers to something else. I chose pieces from our hoard that were too big to cut up on the 6 inch trim saw, and too small to conveniently fit in the vice of the larger 16 inch rock saw. After the plaster set and dried, the big saw sliced them up nicely.

I finally visited an orthopedist about my knee, and he diagnosed the pain as a torn meniscus. I would show you the MRI, except that my insurance company (Cigna) refused to authorize it until after extensive physical therapy and cortisone injections had failed to resolve the problem. You gotta love insurance companies. Due to my night schedule, I was released as Young President. My vacation lasted about 30 seconds before they called me to teach the Gospel Doctrine class in Sunday School. And life goes on...

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