here’s life

I’m pretty annoyed right now. While I was in church this evening, someone stole my radio. Out of my car. They messed up my dash some too. My CAR! The one that I work on making better and fixing up—it’s messed up! Part of me wants to find them and throttle them. Part of me wants to go buy the nicest radio, a grenade, and a little string. Or made a device that calls fire down from heaven whenever anyone touches my car. Then there’s the response that says, “Just make sure you never have anything that anyone would want, and they won’t take it.” I’m pretty close—I’d need to get rid of my…I don’t know, maybe my bread maker, my linksys router, or the butter in my fridge. People hate me when I have more stuff than them. If I didn’t have more stuff, they wouldn’t want to hurt me, and we could all be friends. By having a nice radio with an MP3 player, I deserve to get my radio stolen—it was just a kindly Robin Hood helping out the poor that I am oppressing by having nice stuff.
But it’s just annoying. Stealing radios is not a profession. It’s something bad. It’s not just “Well, he can’t make money any other way, so who can blame him?” No, he is a person who does bad things. Am I allowed to say he’s a bad person? It make me mad at the type of people who would do this sort of thing, the people who don’t have jobs, the people who can’t seem to “make it”. I kinda don’t want to help people who can’t make it because they do things like this.

Maybe I’ll get another radio. Maybe I’ll pull one with a tape deck out of my closet and install it. Maybe I’ll stick a little amp in there and just buy an MP3 player. Maybe I’ll just cover it up, and install switches and dials for my diesel/vegetable oil system. Maybe I’ll fix up the dash best I can, buy another radio, and behind the face, tape a $50 bill and a note asking the thief to please just take the money, and leave the radio…because it is wired to a grenade!
I’m sure there is a Christ-like response that I’m missing. Something about praying for the bad person who did this, and not storing up treasure on earth. Is there a fundamental difference between turning the other cheek and rolling over and playing dead?

Tenor:
Treasure in heaven
Treasures in he-ea-ven!
Lay up for yourselves,
Treasures in heaven.

Soprano:
Ask and you shall receive
Seek and you shall find
Knock and it shall be opened,
Be opened unto you
Be opened unto you.

I was hanging out with some friends the other evening, and something came up about international events, and Israel and Bush and peace in the Middle East. It was generally agreed that it was a bad idea for Bush to work for peace in that area, because peace wouldn’t happen, or Bush would be flirting with becoming the Antichrist. I have a tendency to challenge anything that is held as Orthodoxy, but doesn’t immediately commend itself to my reason, and reasonable understanding of the Bible. So, I challenged them on it, and then the discussion passed on while I dug through Revelation for a verse I thought maybe I’d heard about the Antichrist bringing peace. I didn’t find it right away. I did a quick search on the topic and came up with a couple articles. This one is rather critical of the Dispensational view that peace will heralded in the coming of the Antichrist. It also attempts to show that it’s scriptural support is nebulous at best. It seems that this connection between the Antichrist and peace is built on this verse in Daniel 9:

26″Then after the sixty-two weeks the Messiah will be cut off and have nothing, and the people of the prince who is to come will destroy the city and the sanctuary And its end will come with a flood; even to the end there will be war; desolations are determined.
27″And he will make a firm covenant with the many for one week, but in the middle of the week he will put a stop to sacrifice and grain offering; and on the wing of abominations will come one who makes desolate, even until a complete destruction, one that is decreed, is poured out on the one who makes desolate.”

See, by “week” it means “seven years” and the “prince who is to come” is the Antichrist in Revelations, and the “firm covenant” means “Peace in the Middle East”. That was the NASB version. The NIV uses “’sevens’” but with a note that an alternate reading is “weeks”.
So, there is some room for different interpretations, just from the Hebrew to English. But, it doesn’t say “And the Antichrist will bring peace between the Jews and the Arabs, and then will break off that peace” Not is so many words. And, if you read the chapter, this is a direct answer to Daniel’s cry to God about the devastation and destruction and disaster that came upon Israel as a just consequence of their sin. I really get the feeling that what Gabriel is talking about has to do with the destruction that Daniel is currently praying about. Not some event still in our future.

What does this mean for us? It’s not like I’ll try and egg on Hamas if I believe that only the Antichrist brings peace (albeit fake peace). We all want peace in the world, in our neighborhoods, and in those of the Jews. But, if Bush can’t be a peacemaker without us worrying about the sinister implications, something may be wrong. But we don’t have to interpret it that way. In this article, the author holds to the Peace==Antichrist view, but he sees peace as a good thing—if the Antichrist is coming, the Real Christ can’t be far behind.
I think it is safe to work for peace. Jesus says “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the sons of God”. And even if you somehow fulfill some prophecy in Daniel, that doesn’t mean you are THE Antichrist—-there is more to earning that title than just helping some people stop lobbing rockets at each other. We can work for peace for quite a while before we are in “danger” of bringing peace. Right now, “uneasy diffidence” would be way better than what we’ve got, and it still isn’t the dreaded “strong covenant” that we are supposedly warned about.

So, don’t believe that “peace is of the devil”, and therefore subconsciously (or even consciously) sabotage any efforts to make the world a better place. And go ahead and read the passages before agreeing with theology that doesn’t fit with themes like “Love your neighbor.”

I was listening to a recording of “This American Life” a radio show that usually shows up on NPR. In the second Act, a guy in advertising tells about an ad campaign he worked on, with the State Department, trying to sell Americanism to the Muslim world. PR for democracy and freedom. The story is pretty funny, but depressing as well. From their focus groups, trying to determine what would work, a recurring theme was that Muslims can’t be free or at peace, because of the Jews. The Jews have Jerusalem, which the Muslims need. According to this radio show, until Islams control Medina, Mecca and Jerusalem, there won’t be peace.
Of course, if there was no Jerusalem, then there wouldn’t be any fighting over it. But our current foreign policy does not include turning the Middle East into a glass parking lot. It does include giving aid, arms and aid to buy our arms. And I hear that it is common for us to help both sides. That way, everybody is happy, killing each other, in a careful balance determined by the US government, taxpayers, and defense contractors. As a taxpayer, this doesn’t seem like a good use of the money I could use to, say, buy more pipe fittings (I’ve been doing that a lot lately). And it doesn’t look like it’s really helping either. If it’s not the Jews and Arabs, it’s Eritrea and Somalia, Or the Turks and the Kurds. The North Koreans and the South Koreans. The Green Bay Packers and the Chicago Bears. The Serbs and Croatians. We can continue to send men and money and missles over to try and keep people from killing each other. People who have been trying to kill each other for centuries, and don’t plan on stopping. Or, we could break up the fight. Send them to their rooms.
Here’s the plan: if there is a chronic war going on, we take one side, and send them to a space colony, built on the Moon, Mars or Australia. Which side? Well I’d leave the side that is less likely to turn on us. With their rivals gone, they’ll have more free time, and excess weapons. So, keep the side that will turn to more useful pursuits. But what gives us the right to arbitrate between two people groups, and send one to exile, away from their homeland? On the other hand, is that worse than giving guns to the other side? Besides, what if you had the choice: stay in your war torn homeland, probably a desert, and covered with unexploded ordinance…or, get to start over in a state-of-the-art housing facility, that produces everything you need, with a whole new planet to spread out on? Then there is the question of whether we could afford it—isn’t it expensive to build rockets? Yes, but war ain’t cheap either, and if we didn’t have to finance it in so many countries, we could devote more money to some new technologies that make space travel much cheaper. Some people are already working on it—these weekend space enthusiasts are making good progress with balloons. And I have a feeling, that once we started taking drastic measures like exporting a nation, the others would be encouraged to find ways to get along while they have a chance. Oh, and it would give space travel a purpose—right now, it’s a nifty idea, but there aren’t many practical reasons to waste huge amounts of effort to leave our quite livable sphere. But, if it could stop a war, that’s a financial impetus. I’m sure there is a place on Mars that looks just like Jerusalem.

If you ever wondered how your cells find an infection, and what is going on, this is a complex video that shows the amazing work that happens:

http://multimedia.mcb.harvard.edu/anim_innerlife_hi.html

In other news, I keep buying plumbing parts for my car. It is surprisingly hard to find some parts—like a 3/4 by 3/8 NPT bushing. I changed how I’m going about it, so now I need to return some stuff.

Is it better to buy good tools (like pliers) or cheap ones for 1/4 the price? I don’t use them much.

As usual, my house is cold, I’m hungry and it’s time to head to bed.

Did you know that it is a common misconception that microwaves heat water by vibrating their bonds with a resonant wave? You don’t get much resonance from liquid water with all the molecules bumping into each other. Actually 2.4GHz was chosen because it wouldn’t interfere with existing radio transmission. At least so says this guy, among other things:
howthingswork.virginia.edu

It’s been a while since I was home. I spent the week before Christmas working, but rather than being at my regular location, I was in Connecticut, “coordinating” with our customer. Unfortunately, many of the people I would have needed to talk to were already enjoying their vacation with their families. They have to use-or-lose their vacation by the end of the year, so there was a good bit of that going on. Seems to me that like cell phones, companies would do well to offer “Rollover Vacation” since leaving for the last couple weeks of the year may not be most fun for the employees, nor may it be the most convenient for the company. I’m glad my company lets me store vacation from year to year.

After working all week, and battling a sore throat, I packed my items as well as I could, and drove my rental car back to the airport from which I came. But, instead of boarding a plane, I barely made it onto a bus heading to the railroad station. I needed quarters, so I ran to the snack counter in the airport, got some change, and hurried back to the bus, where the driver was still waiting.

At the railway station, I pulled out the ticket I had had mailed to my hotel room, and waited for the train south. It arrived, and I was whisked toward NYC, the automated voice announcing each station as we approached. Long before we got to Grand Central Terminal, we went underground. There we bumped along in the dark, surrounded by dimly-lit arches and pillars which held up New York City. I was struck by how much permanent infrastructure there is, supporting the world as we know it.

Eventually we reached the end of the line, and I followed the crowds toward the surface. I came out in a huge, ornate room, with tiny lights in the ceiling, as far away as the stars. It seems I have seen this important part of Grand Central before—probably in a movie.

I bought a 6-ride pass, and headed to the shuttle. A little train that went to Times Square, and then, as I found out, right back again. (I misinterpreted the signs, and jumped back on the shuttle I came on) So, I took an extra round trip back to Grand Central. Then I found the “3″ train,,,and went north instead of south. I actually set foot top-side in New York City, crossed Broadway, and went back underground. Finally, I got to Penn Station, and rushed over to the Amtrak station, printed my ticket, and found my gate. It was 9:03, and the train left at 9:09, but it seems it was slightly delayed—there were still masses of people waiting to get on.

I found a seat—it was like an airplane, but quieter, roomier, and I didn’t have to turn off my cell. And I didn’t have to fasten my seat belt, and there was a water faucet with cups at the end of the car. Amtrak is a very comfortable way to travel. People talking in hushed tones, or sleeping, and the countryside sped by. I think it was faster than a car. Once again, the huge amount of ancient infrastructure surprised me: all along the way, huge rusted towers held electric wires that feed the train.

Eventually I moved up a couple cars so I would be near the short platform at my destination, and then we pulled up, and I got off. I walked into the parking lot, got into a car I had never seen before, and drove off to the church, where my cousins and their cousins were having Christmas dinner.

It was interesting to blend in with people, a few of whom I had met before, and many who were new to me. But, we had a good evening of exchanging gifts, playing games, and discussing deep subjects of citizen responses to violence and safety.

It was late in the evening, and I finally was “home” to a place I knew, after jumping from ship to ship since 5:30 am.

The rest of the weekend was fine, drove to Delaware, and ate food, and again exchanged gifts (I liked the white elephant method used in DE better than the PA family version). Monday we went to the beach. We walked in the sand, toward some towers at the end of the beach. They looked closer than 10 miles away. But we walked and walked and didn’t seem to get much closer. Sim ran down to them and back. He found a green plastic item that seemed to be a “pull ring to light fuse” pyrotechnical device. Garret found some rocks and shells. I didn’t get any sand because I had already collected some a few miles up the beach. And I wasn’t carrying a ziplock.

Tuesday was Christmas day, and Uncle Charlie invited me and Jonathan to take part in their morning ceremony. It was interesting to see a real Christmas for the first? time. And I kind of understand it now. It is really exciting for the kids. And we read Luke 2 again (while we were waiting, Jonathan suggested we read Luke 1 so we would know the background). I’m not sure what I’ll do when I have kids. Will we celebrate Christmas? I guess if I’m going to start, I could before I have kids. I’m sure I won’t tell my kids that Santa Claus is real, but what about a tree? Seem still too pagan for me. Gifts aren’t very pagan, the devil didn’t invent giving. Oh well.

Once there was a guy sitting on his front porch, when a car screeched to a halt and the passengers yelled out the window “A flood is coming! Jump in and we’ll drive to the city!” But, the city was not where he wanted to be. He knew that once he got there, he would get sucked into it’s petty ways and would forever mimic the artificial bustle of it’s manufactured reality. “No” he replied to the carload, “I’m waiting on the Lord!”

A few hours later, the water came. A trickle at first, and then the waves started to lap at the edge of the porch. So, he moved his belongings into the attic, and nailed cross braces on the walls. He was sitting cross-legged on a chair when a boat pulled up to his second story window. “Hey! A survivor! Quick, get in! We’ll take you to safety!” They say beggars can’t be choosers, but this boat had clearly seen better days. “No thanks” he replied, “I’m waiting for the Lord to SAVE me!” The boat pulled away, but it was not out of sight before the water that had been filling the hold caused the engine to seize, throw a rod, kill the occupants, burst into flames and sink into the murky water.

He had just climbed onto his roof when a barge came by. It was swarming with lawn chairs, and people. Someone on the barge spotted him through the haze. “Dude! There’s a guy on that roof! Hey Roof Dude! You wanna come join us! This is the most awesome (*)^*(& you ever seen! It’s a great way to travel in a flood!” Umm, yeah. “No thanks,…Dude!” He shouted back to the floatilla. “I’m going to see what God has for me.” “Whatever, that’s awesome dude! On a roof! Hey, let’s go join him!” “Dude! we’d get wet, dude.” “Yeah, couldn’t risk that, dude….” They faded off into the distance. He finished tying his safety cable to the stovepipe.

He was standing on the left side of his roof to balance it, when a helicopter hovered overhead. They threw out a rope and were yelling something down. Seems they wanted him to grab the rope. He was just about to when he blinked and realized that the ‘copter was missing a blade! The vibrations would tear it apart any moment! Maybe they were yelling for help! He motioned to them to jump out, but they thought he was just waving them off. “Well, we’ve got others to save!” said the pilot, and he tipped the nose down to fly off…when the rotor hit the tail and the whole airframe shattered. The flaming schrappnel whizzed past as he threw himself flat on the roof. He stood up, and beside him a smoking turbine blade was impaled in the roof. “Thank you Lord, for saving me!” he said, looking up a the empty sky.

For a couple days, he floated on his rooftop. On top, he struggled to keep his house balanced by moving from side to side. Underneath, God guided his frail craft around the sunken trees that reached up to pluck it from the surface. And often, he was acutely aware that God was saving him, and all would be well, even if he drown.

On the morning of the fifth day, he felt a tremor ripple through his knees. The house had hit something. He jumped to the other side of the roof, and the scraping stopped…for a moment. And then with a THUD, the house stopped moving altogether. The impact made him lose his balance, his feet slipped, he fell over backwards, hit his head on the stove pipe, and lay motionless.

He saw a light, and opened his eyes. It was beautiful, and blinding. The light was at the crest of a range of mountains. He became more aware of his senses, the breeze touching his face, the smell of spring flowers that dotted the green hillsides of fresh grass, the sound of a brook trickling nearby, and a hunger…for food! Like he hadn’t eaten in a day and half. Wait, I’m not supposed to feel hunger here! His hand went instinctively to his head, and he felt a scab. Small enough that he realized he had collapsed, not so much from the blow, but from exhaustion. “Thank you Lord, for saving me!” he whispered into the wind. Then, he loosened up his safety rope, and swung into the attic where he found some peanut butter and jelly, and on the strength of that food he spent the next 40 days digging a new foundation under his house, planting a garden on the hills nearby, and catching fish in the brook. It was the perfect spot, and he was glad that he waited for God, instead of taking any of the almost-optimal options.
THE END.

So, I thought I was edgimacated and stuff…oh well!

This morning, I walked outside and it was sleeting, so I hurried to the apartment office to drop off a note saying that my bathtub wasn’t draining; it finally has gotten slow enough that my next shower start out with me standing in cold water. Then I got in my car, debated if the windshield needed scraping—had a dusting of frozen rain on it. Well, it didn’t start anyway, so it didn’t matter. It has the habit of taking a couple cranks before it will start—when it is cold out. So, I got in my redundant vehicle, started it up, and went ahead and got some of the ice off it.

Work went fine—I tried out some interesting tactics for dealing with overly critical people. “You are right, that is incorrect. Could you go ahead and fix that up? That would be great…” It would have worked, if what their criticism had a basis in the same reality as me. I need to work on being kind, but firm. Be considerate, but not ruin myself trying to fit other’s actions into reasonableness. All without becoming a vitriolic quibbler too. (I can hear the Reading Level ratcheting up!)

When started my car, I noticed that the brake pedal had a lot of give to it. Pumping it helped a little. I checked the fluid level—way low, and the light hadn’t come on. I filled it up, but it still was pretty useless until near the bottom of the stroke. I drove home with care. I’m glad I could see the accident from way off, so I had time to coast and down shift. A pickup had run into a concrete wall (I’m guessing) The front clip was demolished, but the driver (presumably) was leaning on his roof, talking on a cell. The cops were about, so it had been several minutes.

My other car still doesn’t start—I could dump some fuel treatment into the line; that worked before. Or, I could go install this glow-plug-powered fuel heater I assembled. I still need parts, but I’ve got enough that it will work.

But my tub drains like normal—I wonder if I had washed too much dirt, or paint, or hair, or epoxy down it (ok, joking about the epoxy).

I think I’ll go make my car go—I’ve got somewhere to be at 7, so I should be able to make it…

Sometimes the most unpredictable circumstances make me look cool (the end all in life?). Last week, I showed up for Sunday evening service, and we hung greens instead—-and I produced, from my trunk, a stapler and a roll of duct tape. Bryan was impressed—but it really was pretty expected: I’ve been working on stuff, so I’ve been storing tools in my trunk. These items were just the beginning. But, that set the stage pretty nicely for tonight.

For some reason, instead of setting up coffee, Bryan brought cider this evening—and when I got up to where we meet, he had carried a microwave and table up there to heat up the cider. “Would this be better with some brown sugar and cinnamon?” I ask. Yeah do you have some? “In my car” I run out and return with a bag of sugar and cinnamon—with a hint of clove. See, I collect sand samples for somebody in this group, and I had a bag of sand from a recent trip. So, I thought to myself, What if I gave her a bag of brown sugar? Would she notice? So, I got some brown sugar, put it in a clean ziplock and then added cinnamon and cloves. I was going to put in some hot cocoa powder, but it didn’t look like it would add the right colors to make it look like dirt. Turns out, I’d forgotten that soil collector wasn’t going to be there tonight,,,,but it also turned out we had a use for the fake dirt. The funny thing is, it made me look like I had a magic car—and it wasn’t because I’d thought ahead or anything.

What if your entire life was like that? Whenever you did something, it would turn out that it was the best thing that you could have done. Hopefully you wouldn’t just use it to make yourself look awesome, but unlike me, you would use it to bring glory to God, who is the one who sets everything up for us. Sometimes it seems my life is being run for me by God, and it really is a good feeling to know that what happened was totally not my doing, but God’s and it turned out better than I could have managed. Like that time that I wanted a webcam, and then one showed up in the dumpster behind Quad 3 soon afterwards. It made me feel warm inside to think that God was looking out for my needs and wants. Or that time I quit my job on a Friday, drove to MO because I didn’t have anywhere to live anymore…and Monday I had another job, that paid twice as much—but didn’t start for a month. A month that I needed for family stuff.

God often operates with miracles that are “little”, just nudges of the probability distribution so that the “right” thing happens. Not like He’s not “allowed” to operate outside of the natural order, but sometimes He makes it almost fit into the explainable. And if we aren’t watching for it, or talking to Him about it, we might miss it altogether. And it won’t always be something that makes me look cool, but in the end, it will be better. I think there is a verse about it somewhere: God causes all things to work together for good for those who love God and are called according to His purpose.

So, keep your eyes peeled for God at work—even if it’s something as “small” as knowing the correct kind word for the situation, or turning a surreal shenanigan into a delicious drink.

I’ve been running for the last couple days–spent Thanksgiving in Hutchinson at Fjord and Grey’s parent’s place. Along with about 20 LeTourneau people. It was a great time. We sat around and talked, we ate good food, we stood around a bonfire while the first snow fell. We wired and sheetrocked a basement room. We played Polish Pingpong. We tried to put together a 2128 piece jigsaw puzzle. We played Settlers (I like Seafarers better than Cities and Knights). We played Munchkin (including a 3-hour game where everyone made it one point away from winning). We played a quick game of Axis & Allies—the dice bombed Germany pretty bad. Over and over. We went to church, and they sang “Dem Bones”. Then, as I was getting my car to start after everyone else had left, (sitting for days in the cold without running made it difficult) someone called, saying they were playing frisbee in Wichita, in half an hour. I got there after everyone had warmed up. Then I went to the Sunday evening service (instead of singing and praying together and reading from God’s Word, we hung Christmas ornamentation), and then I went to “a restaurant” with some friends. And it took forever, and the burgers were burned on the outside, and either raw or overcooked on the inside. I ordered a Philly Cheesesteak, which was quite delicious. So I was almost the only one to pay for my meal.

Getting home late (for the first time since Wednesday afternoon), and to bed even later, I was loath to get up in the morning, and as I was about to leave, I realized I had class—in 5 minutes. After class (which was hard to stay awake in) I worked a bit, and went home…only to soon leave for play practice and set setup. I got home, got to bed late, and got up, went to class. At lunch time, I was relaxing at my desk, chewing on a peanut butter sandwich, and someone asked me to come to a meeting. They were rehashing some plan on how they were going to set some system up. So, I ate while I listened to people make suggestions, some useful, some well meaning. Before grabbing some coffee and rushing back to class, I helped make some mark-ups to a document I’d made last week to capture the new decision. These markups made it similar to our original plan that had been modified by an email after I’d sent in an email asking for what seemed best at the time. By the time I got back from class, they had done some experimentation, to see if it was possible (brilliant!) and found that, no, they’d better stick with a variation of last week’s plan. I’ve had my fingers in all the plans, so it doesn’t matter which one wins out–I’ll still be the one who thought of it, or drew it up, or worked it out, or something. Oh, and it doesn’t matter who thought of it, as long as it works. Yeah, getting this planned right is important, but something, anything, is important too. Now. Last week. I don’t really care how it is, my requirements are simple and well known, just make it work.

With coffee, I could sit in class without my consciousness flickering in and out. I was doing stuff, and doing it fast! Almost as fast as the guy next to me who spent half the time reading webcomics! When I got home it was about time to go help build set for the play, which we did, quite successfully, and now I am home…with nothing to do for the rest of the week but dishes to wash…and clothes to sort out, and a bathtub with potting soil on the sides because the drain doesn’t hardly drain (it was like that before the potting soil!) and I don’t want to bring the plumbers in because they might get caught in the drifts of stuff in my apartment, oh, and my rent is going up, so I need to go buy a house but maybe I shouldn’t maybe I should just go rent a house, and get a roomate but no, there isn’t hardly anyone in Wichita that I would want to room with. So, instead, I made an egg quesadilla, and drank some milk, and now I need to go to bed. So I can get up and go to class, so I learn how to do some pretty cool things at work that may save our department from the approaching trainwreck. It’s pretty much like we bought some baby chickens, and the pens for them are on backorder. And we are sure that the heat lamps will get here any minute…

That’s how big the Black Locust thorn was, that was buried in my index finger, at about a 45 degree angle. I got it Saturday. I was playing disk golf, and I threw a bad shot teeing off for hole 4. It landed in the edge of the woods. I’m usually a stickler for throwing it where it lies, and it was behind some thorn-covered saplings. So, I tried to do a short swing, but didn’t, and a thorn met my finger. I pulled out the little pieces that I could reach. After hole 5, we pulled out the first aid kits, and I tried with a tweezers but couldn’t get it out. So I dressed it, and went back to playing. I made some pretty lucky shots with my off-hand.
I tried repeatedly to dig it out, bought some tweezers—for ultra-fine work, tiny eyebrow hairs, ingrown hairs and huge, sharp, broken-off tree thorns. They weren’t fine enough, so after digging and poking, and cutting and snipping, I got out a stone from a bore-sizing hone, and sharpened the tweezers to a nice point. Finally, Monday evening, I got a good grip on it, and pulled…out. Ouch! But is was relieving to finally be free. It didn’t really bleed. I poured some more alcohol over it, and bandaged it up with triple antibiotic. Now, it hurts slightly if I poke it right. Based on how much room I guess is in my finger, I wonder if it didn’t hit the bone. Whatever, I’m glad it’s out. It has sealed over pretty good, and doesn’t seem to be infected. I guess keeping it alcohol’ed and antibiotic’ed was good. Also, the thorn made a nice tight plug.