Almost 25 years after it went off the air, I'm still addicted to episodes of M*A*S*H. It was on the air for 11 years and when I was in high school, I watched it every Monday night at 8 p.m. Now it's on TVLand, along with shows like The Andy Griffith Show and Green Acres.
Like lots of other things, this makes me feel old. It doesn't stop me from watching though. I can usually tell you the entire plot of the episode within a couple of minutes after "Suicide is Painless" stops playing. Great show.
Are there any shows you watched as a kid that you'll still drop anything to watch?
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Kitty on my lap and kids in their beds
I'm blogging in the living room and I have a kitten (Simon) half on my lap, half on the seat next to me. And the other kitten just jumped up too. Rabies seems fascinated with the movement of my fingers, which isn't a good thing since both cats have all of their claws and I can just see a lightning quick rip of the skin on my fingers in investigation.
So Allie turned 7 today. It's 9:50 p.m. right now and she was born at 10:27 p.m., so 7 years ago at this instant, I was probably being prepped for my c-section. This was after Allie's head got stuck and they figured out after I pushed for three hours that we weren't having a baby the regular way.
I honestly didn't care one whit. I was ready to see whether we had a boy or girl and to count those fingers and toes. Unfortunately, I threw up as the doctor, as Greg says, "was putting your insides back in." They upped my medication and I zoned out completely after Allie was out of my belly.
The next thing I knew was shivering and shuddering and freezing in the recovery room, trying to wake up and unable to move, as the nurses persisted in asking me to try to nurse. It's no wonder it took me about two days to know that I loved her.
It's OK. I've loved her and her sister every day since, and I can't believe it's been 7 years. She's becoming a true big girl. I'm thrilled I have Allie and Julia in my life. Happy Birthday, Alexandra!
So Allie turned 7 today. It's 9:50 p.m. right now and she was born at 10:27 p.m., so 7 years ago at this instant, I was probably being prepped for my c-section. This was after Allie's head got stuck and they figured out after I pushed for three hours that we weren't having a baby the regular way.
I honestly didn't care one whit. I was ready to see whether we had a boy or girl and to count those fingers and toes. Unfortunately, I threw up as the doctor, as Greg says, "was putting your insides back in." They upped my medication and I zoned out completely after Allie was out of my belly.
The next thing I knew was shivering and shuddering and freezing in the recovery room, trying to wake up and unable to move, as the nurses persisted in asking me to try to nurse. It's no wonder it took me about two days to know that I loved her.
It's OK. I've loved her and her sister every day since, and I can't believe it's been 7 years. She's becoming a true big girl. I'm thrilled I have Allie and Julia in my life. Happy Birthday, Alexandra!
Sunday, January 28, 2007
One life gone
Rabies was missing for 8 1/2 hours when Greg found him. And now he has 8 lives left instead of 9.
It turns out that while we worried the entire day, Rabies was ensconced under the stairs. Yep, under the stairs, in the section that we would have sworn no one and nothing could have gotten into, unless you turned the stopper and pulled a piece of drywall away.
Greg checked under the stairs hours and hours ago, but he didn't have a flashlight. So now, there Rabies was, sleeping peacefully, the little shit.
The space under the stairs is half blocked off and the other half is where the cats have their litter boxes. Greg partially drywalled the side of the space, so Rabies jumped up about four feet, balanced on top of the drywall, and then jumped down in the space between the drywall and studs, which allowed him access to the area under the stairs.
We were convinced he was a Rabiesicle. We were convinced he was wandering the block, lost and alone. We were composing Lost Kitty notices and thanking god that we had a picture of Rabies. We thought he was dead.
Instead, he's just a kitten. A kitten with 8 lives left.
It turns out that while we worried the entire day, Rabies was ensconced under the stairs. Yep, under the stairs, in the section that we would have sworn no one and nothing could have gotten into, unless you turned the stopper and pulled a piece of drywall away.
Greg checked under the stairs hours and hours ago, but he didn't have a flashlight. So now, there Rabies was, sleeping peacefully, the little shit.
The space under the stairs is half blocked off and the other half is where the cats have their litter boxes. Greg partially drywalled the side of the space, so Rabies jumped up about four feet, balanced on top of the drywall, and then jumped down in the space between the drywall and studs, which allowed him access to the area under the stairs.
We were convinced he was a Rabiesicle. We were convinced he was wandering the block, lost and alone. We were composing Lost Kitty notices and thanking god that we had a picture of Rabies. We thought he was dead.
Instead, he's just a kitten. A kitten with 8 lives left.
Missing in action
Well, hmmm.
Things went really well with our new kittens last night. We brought them home, set up food, water, and litter boxes, and let them out of the cat carrier. Simon turned out to be much braver about exploring the basement, but eventually both of them ate, drank, peed, and played. Later, they both came to us and were petted. We left them in the finished basement last night, so they could explore on their own and we could get good sleep.
This morning, Simon was waiting for me on the other side of the basement door. I sat on the futon and both Simon and Rabies came over for some love. I think that was probably the first time I've petted two cats at once, because our two other cats, Pig and Butterscotch, came together in one house later in life and they wouldn't have both been on a couch at the same time, let alone asking to be petted at the same time.
So we decided to let them into the largest part of the house, but still close off the bedrooms upstairs. Simon was once again the brave kitty, and Rabies came up and then rushed back downstairs a few times. Simon explored everywhere, including behind the dryer (don't have to try to get the lint out of there, now!) and settled down in the window, enjoying the sun and getting petted every other minute.
Now, it's been about 3 hours and Simon is stretched out full-length in the middle of the girls on the couch, sound asleep. Rabies, however. Rabies we have not seen for about 2 1/2 hours and we have no idea where he is. I mean, no idea. We've looked everywhere we can think and a few places that seemed impossible for even a five-month-old kitten to get into and we can't find him.
We've heard some indistinct noises from the basement, so I'm convinced he's down there somewhere. And since his brother is now napping, I'm guessing he's sleeping and we won't see him come out again until late afternoon. Greg is going absolutely bonkers. The only time anyone opened a door to outside was when I went out to get the newspaper, so he's convinced I let Rabies out then.
It's about 5 degrees outside, however. Plus, we got fresh snow this morning and there are no pawprints on the doorstep or front porch. He's in the house; we just have absolutely, completely, no idea where the hell he is.
RABIES! WHERE ARE YOU????
Things went really well with our new kittens last night. We brought them home, set up food, water, and litter boxes, and let them out of the cat carrier. Simon turned out to be much braver about exploring the basement, but eventually both of them ate, drank, peed, and played. Later, they both came to us and were petted. We left them in the finished basement last night, so they could explore on their own and we could get good sleep.
This morning, Simon was waiting for me on the other side of the basement door. I sat on the futon and both Simon and Rabies came over for some love. I think that was probably the first time I've petted two cats at once, because our two other cats, Pig and Butterscotch, came together in one house later in life and they wouldn't have both been on a couch at the same time, let alone asking to be petted at the same time.
So we decided to let them into the largest part of the house, but still close off the bedrooms upstairs. Simon was once again the brave kitty, and Rabies came up and then rushed back downstairs a few times. Simon explored everywhere, including behind the dryer (don't have to try to get the lint out of there, now!) and settled down in the window, enjoying the sun and getting petted every other minute.
Now, it's been about 3 hours and Simon is stretched out full-length in the middle of the girls on the couch, sound asleep. Rabies, however. Rabies we have not seen for about 2 1/2 hours and we have no idea where he is. I mean, no idea. We've looked everywhere we can think and a few places that seemed impossible for even a five-month-old kitten to get into and we can't find him.
We've heard some indistinct noises from the basement, so I'm convinced he's down there somewhere. And since his brother is now napping, I'm guessing he's sleeping and we won't see him come out again until late afternoon. Greg is going absolutely bonkers. The only time anyone opened a door to outside was when I went out to get the newspaper, so he's convinced I let Rabies out then.
It's about 5 degrees outside, however. Plus, we got fresh snow this morning and there are no pawprints on the doorstep or front porch. He's in the house; we just have absolutely, completely, no idea where the hell he is.
RABIES! WHERE ARE YOU????
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Dinner date
Last night, we went out for fish. It was Friday in Wisconsin, after all. Of course, Greg was the only one who actually ate fish. Allie had a hot dog, which she and her appliance struggled with. Julia had mini corn dogs, which she ate and then asked for more. I had chicken.
At the end of the meal, the waitress brought the ubiquitous little leather folder with our check. Julia reached out before Greg could grab it and snagged it. Greg asked her if she wanted to pay the bill and she said, "Yeah! Gimme a dollar!"
At the end of the meal, the waitress brought the ubiquitous little leather folder with our check. Julia reached out before Greg could grab it and snagged it. Greg asked her if she wanted to pay the bill and she said, "Yeah! Gimme a dollar!"
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Switched, but didn't want to
Damn. I was forced to switch my Blogger account to Google when I signed in today.
For months, I've been ignoring their requests to try the Beta version of Blogger. Then I've ignored the statements about how they're out of Beta and don't I want to change to the new, exciting crap they have available.
No. I do not want to change. I like things the old way, and if any of my stuff is messed up, I'm going to be pissed.
Now I'm all perturbed, and I can't think of something else to write when I'm perturbed. Aren't most people resistant to change? Yes, they are. And I don' t like the new font they have me typing in right now.
Oh, they promised nothing was going to change. They're full of it.
For months, I've been ignoring their requests to try the Beta version of Blogger. Then I've ignored the statements about how they're out of Beta and don't I want to change to the new, exciting crap they have available.
No. I do not want to change. I like things the old way, and if any of my stuff is messed up, I'm going to be pissed.
Now I'm all perturbed, and I can't think of something else to write when I'm perturbed. Aren't most people resistant to change? Yes, they are. And I don' t like the new font they have me typing in right now.
Oh, they promised nothing was going to change. They're full of it.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Mildly sweet stories
This morning, Greg was getting ready to leave for work. He'd already kissed Allie and Julia goodbye and was heading towards me, as I was making Allie's lunch, to kiss me goodbye.
Allie went running after him and said, Wait! She grabbed a napkin off the table, wrote quickly with a marker, and held it out to her father. The napkin said, Press, and she'd drawn a giant button in the middle. When Greg pretended to press the button, she threw down the napkin and attacked him with a hug.
*******
Julia and Allie got free mini piggy banks last night when they went to the grocery store with Greg. There's a new bank inside the store that's trying to drum up business. Today, Julia wanted to bring her piggy bank with her to daycare, to show it to her friends. Of course, she wanted to have some additional coins to put in her bank.
I grabbed my wallet and all I had for change was a dime. She took it and put it in her bank, then she asked for something big. I went over to our little change dish and grabbed a quarter for her. She said, Is that big? I told her quarters are as big as coins get (most of the time). She put it in the slot and said, Is dere more big money in dere?
Sure, honey. It's the magical change dish! Quarters without end. Not.
Allie went running after him and said, Wait! She grabbed a napkin off the table, wrote quickly with a marker, and held it out to her father. The napkin said, Press, and she'd drawn a giant button in the middle. When Greg pretended to press the button, she threw down the napkin and attacked him with a hug.
*******
Julia and Allie got free mini piggy banks last night when they went to the grocery store with Greg. There's a new bank inside the store that's trying to drum up business. Today, Julia wanted to bring her piggy bank with her to daycare, to show it to her friends. Of course, she wanted to have some additional coins to put in her bank.
I grabbed my wallet and all I had for change was a dime. She took it and put it in her bank, then she asked for something big. I went over to our little change dish and grabbed a quarter for her. She said, Is that big? I told her quarters are as big as coins get (most of the time). She put it in the slot and said, Is dere more big money in dere?
Sure, honey. It's the magical change dish! Quarters without end. Not.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Political overtones
Greg is downstairs watching the State of the Union address and procrastinating about some work he should be doing. I am upstairs, refusing to listen to Bush talk, just on principle. The guy's an idiot and he has stupid ideas, so why would I listen to his propaganda on things he's not going to succeed at doing. The only good thing about all of these politicians announcing recently that they're running for president for '08 (because the election process is way too dragged out) is that it starts the countdown in my mind for when Bush will be gone.
Tomorrow morning, I'll read a little about the speech in the newspaper, preferably the section where they analyze the claims Bush makes and present the facts on each issue. He's usually stretching the truth or pontificating with oodles of wishful thinking.
Greg and I have always taken the girls with us when we exercise our civil rights to vote, since Allie was an infant. Gosh, guess who I'll be voting for in November, 2008. Anyone but George W. Bush!
Tomorrow morning, I'll read a little about the speech in the newspaper, preferably the section where they analyze the claims Bush makes and present the facts on each issue. He's usually stretching the truth or pontificating with oodles of wishful thinking.
Greg and I have always taken the girls with us when we exercise our civil rights to vote, since Allie was an infant. Gosh, guess who I'll be voting for in November, 2008. Anyone but George W. Bush!
Monday, January 22, 2007
Transformation
About three years ago, my boss at the time decided that we needed our offices painted. Because I work in Human Resources, most of us have private offices and we could all choose our own colors. When she came up with the idea, I had no idea how terrible things would turn out to be.
My boss chose a creamy tan color for her office, which is really nice because it's pretty bright and neutral and her office is now my office. My office at the time was gray, so I chose a creamy light yellow that unfortunately turned out to be a rather bright yellow. One co-worker chose a weird kind of puke green color, another a seagreen color, and another pink.
My boss told the receptionist at the time that she could choose the colors for the department bathrooms, for our conference room, for the outer hallway, and for the reception area and inner hallway. Our company color is blue, so she chose a pretty dark blue for the conference room and a slightly lighter blue for the men's bathroom. For the women's bathroom, she chose a mauvey purple color, which is really unfortunate because the ceiling light/fan does not have a bright bulb. It's like going into a little cave to pee. For the outer hallway, she chose peach. For the reception area and inner hallway, she chose the same mauvey purple.
The end result should have been obvious even before any paint hit the walls, just from the description I've given. Our office looks god awful. I mean, ugly, weird, and, as one of my former co-workers used to say, a lot like an Easter egg.
We've lived with all of this color for three years, except that when we got some new filing cabinets in the front office area about a year ago, we painted one wall white. I became boss about a year ago and I've been waiting for the building maintenance people to come and paint the rest white too, which they promised to do when they had time. They've never had time.
This week, the era of weird color is partially coming to an end. We're painting the inner hallway rice paper (white), at least two more walls in the reception area the same white, my old yellow office (which now has a male occupant) a tan color, the puke-green office (which is temporarily vacant) the same tan, and the women's bathroom white. If we have time and paint left, we're going to paint at least a couple of walls in the pink office white (that office now has an occupant who says she is not a pink person).
The conference room actually looks pretty good because it's a bigger room. I don't really see the men's bathroom and they haven't complained, so that's staying blue (plus they have a nice bright light, so it's not bad). The seagreen office is vacant and probably will be for awhile, so I'm leaving that. I would love to do the peach outer hallway over in white, but I am supposed to be getting some human resources work done this week, so that probably won't happen.
Today me and my benefits guy spent several hours giving the inner hallway two coats of rice paper. I can't believe what a dramatic difference it makes. I've been working in a freaking cave! It's so bright that we seriously talked about whether we should take a bulb out of one of the fluorescent fixtures that light it. It looks so much better, I'm amazed.
I did give myself two gargantuan slivers when I was taping the molding, so that sucked. Fortunately, our company nurse is right downstairs and he put on his lighted magnifiers, dug around with a scalpel, and got them out. He earned his salary for this week just for helping me, in my opinion.
I also am already feeling aches and pains from my unnatural postures today. Unnatural, by the way, because I normally spend all day sitting on my ass typing at a computer or talking on the phone. Today I was squatting, stretching, and standing on a ladder for several hours, which is coincidentally the same types of activities that our 1100 manufacturing employees do every day.
My workers comp people and the occupational health staff talk about work hardening for newly hired employees all of the time. That's what I got today, some work hardening, and some environmental transformation. Mauvey purple, be damned!
My boss chose a creamy tan color for her office, which is really nice because it's pretty bright and neutral and her office is now my office. My office at the time was gray, so I chose a creamy light yellow that unfortunately turned out to be a rather bright yellow. One co-worker chose a weird kind of puke green color, another a seagreen color, and another pink.
My boss told the receptionist at the time that she could choose the colors for the department bathrooms, for our conference room, for the outer hallway, and for the reception area and inner hallway. Our company color is blue, so she chose a pretty dark blue for the conference room and a slightly lighter blue for the men's bathroom. For the women's bathroom, she chose a mauvey purple color, which is really unfortunate because the ceiling light/fan does not have a bright bulb. It's like going into a little cave to pee. For the outer hallway, she chose peach. For the reception area and inner hallway, she chose the same mauvey purple.
The end result should have been obvious even before any paint hit the walls, just from the description I've given. Our office looks god awful. I mean, ugly, weird, and, as one of my former co-workers used to say, a lot like an Easter egg.
We've lived with all of this color for three years, except that when we got some new filing cabinets in the front office area about a year ago, we painted one wall white. I became boss about a year ago and I've been waiting for the building maintenance people to come and paint the rest white too, which they promised to do when they had time. They've never had time.
This week, the era of weird color is partially coming to an end. We're painting the inner hallway rice paper (white), at least two more walls in the reception area the same white, my old yellow office (which now has a male occupant) a tan color, the puke-green office (which is temporarily vacant) the same tan, and the women's bathroom white. If we have time and paint left, we're going to paint at least a couple of walls in the pink office white (that office now has an occupant who says she is not a pink person).
The conference room actually looks pretty good because it's a bigger room. I don't really see the men's bathroom and they haven't complained, so that's staying blue (plus they have a nice bright light, so it's not bad). The seagreen office is vacant and probably will be for awhile, so I'm leaving that. I would love to do the peach outer hallway over in white, but I am supposed to be getting some human resources work done this week, so that probably won't happen.
Today me and my benefits guy spent several hours giving the inner hallway two coats of rice paper. I can't believe what a dramatic difference it makes. I've been working in a freaking cave! It's so bright that we seriously talked about whether we should take a bulb out of one of the fluorescent fixtures that light it. It looks so much better, I'm amazed.
I did give myself two gargantuan slivers when I was taping the molding, so that sucked. Fortunately, our company nurse is right downstairs and he put on his lighted magnifiers, dug around with a scalpel, and got them out. He earned his salary for this week just for helping me, in my opinion.
I also am already feeling aches and pains from my unnatural postures today. Unnatural, by the way, because I normally spend all day sitting on my ass typing at a computer or talking on the phone. Today I was squatting, stretching, and standing on a ladder for several hours, which is coincidentally the same types of activities that our 1100 manufacturing employees do every day.
My workers comp people and the occupational health staff talk about work hardening for newly hired employees all of the time. That's what I got today, some work hardening, and some environmental transformation. Mauvey purple, be damned!
Global warming?
We got six inches of new snow yesterday. And our snowblower is broken (or, at least, Greg has given up trying to get it to start). I don't have the faintest idea myself how to start or use a snowblower, so during one of the short periods yesterday when it wasn't snowing, our family foursome went out and shoveled.
We weren't really out there very long--our driveway isn't much (especially compared to, say, my parents' driveway--but they have a working snowblower). One of our neighbors saw us outside and came across the street to do our sidewalk. That was very sweet--Greg has regularly used our snowblower to do the sidewalks of other neighbors of ours, but I don't think he's ever done Lori's.
It was light, fluffy snow, thankfully. And now, everything is looking very Winter Wonderlandish. It's supposed to warm up a little today, so maybe the snow will get wetter and the girls will be able to pack it and make a snowman. We haven't made any snowmen yet this winter, despite this being our third good snowstorm.
And last night, the snow made everything outside so bright that after we turned out the lights to head to bed, both Greg and I were looking for a full moon or something. No moon, just lots and lots of frozen precipitation. Lots and lots.
We weren't really out there very long--our driveway isn't much (especially compared to, say, my parents' driveway--but they have a working snowblower). One of our neighbors saw us outside and came across the street to do our sidewalk. That was very sweet--Greg has regularly used our snowblower to do the sidewalks of other neighbors of ours, but I don't think he's ever done Lori's.
It was light, fluffy snow, thankfully. And now, everything is looking very Winter Wonderlandish. It's supposed to warm up a little today, so maybe the snow will get wetter and the girls will be able to pack it and make a snowman. We haven't made any snowmen yet this winter, despite this being our third good snowstorm.
And last night, the snow made everything outside so bright that after we turned out the lights to head to bed, both Greg and I were looking for a full moon or something. No moon, just lots and lots of frozen precipitation. Lots and lots.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Dreams and aspirations
Allie was asking me about growing up. We discussed that she'll be able to drive a car (Mommy will be teaching her that one, I'm sure) and have a job and maybe a family. Julia heard us and asked what we were talking about.
Allie said we were talking about work and how when Julia grew up, she could be a doctor or a dancer or president or an artist.
Julia said, with great excitement, "I want to be a butterfly!"
Allie said we were talking about work and how when Julia grew up, she could be a doctor or a dancer or president or an artist.
Julia said, with great excitement, "I want to be a butterfly!"
Thursday, January 18, 2007
No, Greg is not dead
I headed upstairs tonight and told Greg, "I'm going to blog, and I'm going to blog about you." He grunted in response. See, ladies out there, we may have been married for 10 years, but our communication skills are still top-notch.
Anyhow, to respond to an inquiry I got earlier tonight, no, Greg's hands are not broken. Yes, it has been since approximately December 27th, 2006, that he last blogged (yes, that is last year, people) but he is also not dead--witness the witty repartee that we engaged in above.
He says he doesn't feel like blogging, so he's been (purposely or not) leaving it to me to fill the gap in news about our family by me blathering on about illness and dental issues and sores and boils (those latter two topics as he would have).
So just as a non-health-related update, I want to report that our new couch was delivered today. It was relatively cheap, but it has a queen sleeper like the old one and we figure we'll try to get it to last for at least five years, until the girls are older and less likely to spill grape or cherry kool-aid on it. Then we'll buy a better quality one.
I put up four flyers at work advertising that our old couch was available for free, and we found out today that we have a taker (which is a good thing, because it's in the dining room and Marcia's going nuts because she can't run the sweeper in there). A sweeper, by the way for those of you not born in Illinois, is a vacuum cleaner. Yes, Marcia, Greg's mom, is staying with us this week, and because of that, our house is cleaner than it's been since we moved in (it was new then, oh lo that eight years ago).
Besides the obvious benefits of having a mother-in-law staying here who likes to clean, she's also been tremendously helpful to us by taking care of Julia, being here for the Moxi repairman (gotta have our TV), and being here for the couch delivery. And tomorrow she's going to be here for the old couch pickup too, so we get our house back to normal by the weekend. Maybe we should kidnap her permanently. Did I mention she cooks too? We love you, Marcia.
And to my parents, who were here last week caring for Julia and Allie, we love you too.
Here's a public thank you to all of you for everything. And we can't forget Greg's father, Dave, who's driving all the way to Wisconsin to retrieve his wife this weekend. Thank you too, Dave.
So look, Greg, I didn't write just about you after all.
Anyhow, to respond to an inquiry I got earlier tonight, no, Greg's hands are not broken. Yes, it has been since approximately December 27th, 2006, that he last blogged (yes, that is last year, people) but he is also not dead--witness the witty repartee that we engaged in above.
He says he doesn't feel like blogging, so he's been (purposely or not) leaving it to me to fill the gap in news about our family by me blathering on about illness and dental issues and sores and boils (those latter two topics as he would have).
So just as a non-health-related update, I want to report that our new couch was delivered today. It was relatively cheap, but it has a queen sleeper like the old one and we figure we'll try to get it to last for at least five years, until the girls are older and less likely to spill grape or cherry kool-aid on it. Then we'll buy a better quality one.
I put up four flyers at work advertising that our old couch was available for free, and we found out today that we have a taker (which is a good thing, because it's in the dining room and Marcia's going nuts because she can't run the sweeper in there). A sweeper, by the way for those of you not born in Illinois, is a vacuum cleaner. Yes, Marcia, Greg's mom, is staying with us this week, and because of that, our house is cleaner than it's been since we moved in (it was new then, oh lo that eight years ago).
Besides the obvious benefits of having a mother-in-law staying here who likes to clean, she's also been tremendously helpful to us by taking care of Julia, being here for the Moxi repairman (gotta have our TV), and being here for the couch delivery. And tomorrow she's going to be here for the old couch pickup too, so we get our house back to normal by the weekend. Maybe we should kidnap her permanently. Did I mention she cooks too? We love you, Marcia.
And to my parents, who were here last week caring for Julia and Allie, we love you too.
Here's a public thank you to all of you for everything. And we can't forget Greg's father, Dave, who's driving all the way to Wisconsin to retrieve his wife this weekend. Thank you too, Dave.
So look, Greg, I didn't write just about you after all.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
American successor
Paula Abdul had better watch her ass.
The latest (sixth, if you're counting) edition of American Idol began last night with a compilation of auditions from Minneapolis and, tonight, from Seattle. And yes, of course, I'm aware that this show is a copy of Pop Idol (is that the right title?), which was a British hit first.
A 16-year-old girl from Madison, which is about 20 minutes from us, was chosen for the next round on the show last night. Our local news channel highlighted her selection after the show concluded, and then managed to talk over every word she sang as they told her story. We missed her actual audition on the original show, so that was annoying.
I'm not a big fan of this show. I tend to catch the introductory shows because they're on sequential nights for hours, then I kind of follow what's going on by reading updates in the newspaper, then maybe I'll catch part of the finale.
Tonight, our family sat down together to watch some of the "unusual" (to say the least) people who auditioned in Seattle. And that's why Paula had better enjoy her gig while it lasts.
Another train wreck of a singer got up and started singing, and Julia took her thumb out of her mouth and said, "He's not a good shinger." You got that one right, little girl.
The latest (sixth, if you're counting) edition of American Idol began last night with a compilation of auditions from Minneapolis and, tonight, from Seattle. And yes, of course, I'm aware that this show is a copy of Pop Idol (is that the right title?), which was a British hit first.
A 16-year-old girl from Madison, which is about 20 minutes from us, was chosen for the next round on the show last night. Our local news channel highlighted her selection after the show concluded, and then managed to talk over every word she sang as they told her story. We missed her actual audition on the original show, so that was annoying.
I'm not a big fan of this show. I tend to catch the introductory shows because they're on sequential nights for hours, then I kind of follow what's going on by reading updates in the newspaper, then maybe I'll catch part of the finale.
Tonight, our family sat down together to watch some of the "unusual" (to say the least) people who auditioned in Seattle. And that's why Paula had better enjoy her gig while it lasts.
Another train wreck of a singer got up and started singing, and Julia took her thumb out of her mouth and said, "He's not a good shinger." You got that one right, little girl.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Oh, the throbbing!
Sorry, just my small attempt at getting some of the google hits that Dan's managing over at All That Comes With It by repeating the names of some birds in a recent post.
I know I've been writing a lot lately about being sick, but this afternoon was kind of memorable. I had to drive to one of our other plants for something and I was only there for a few minutes before I turned around and started back. It was a pretty nice day for a drive--sunny, the roads have pretty much cleared up from the 5 inches of snow we've gotten over the last three days, and Wisconsin Public Radio was discussing something somewhat interesting.
I am going to have to have a root canal, and I'm on the waiting list for the endodontist. They're going to call when they have an opening and I'll have 2 hours to drop everything and get up there, to be relieved of the pain that's had me popping Tylenol at an alarming rate.
As I left town, I noticed that my already-you-know-that-you-can-usually-expect-it late afternoon throb was starting in my jaw, but it wasn't too bad, so I started out. It's a 45-minute trip and within 15 minutes, my jaw really started to hurt. By 30 minutes, I was calculating how many more miles I had to go. There isn't really anywhere to stop on this trip to buy Tylenol and I stupidly didn't have any with me.
I pulled up at the plant I worked at and went straight to the vending machine that dispenses commonly used medications. I popped in my quarter and trudged up the stairs to the bubbler to swallow my relief. You would not have wanted to get in my way as I headed towards those pills. I told Greg when I got home that if he had held those pills from me and required me to murder someone to get them, I'd have asked him who he wanted killed.
My whole face and head felt throbbing and tight and tense and sensitive and hot and hurt. By the time I swallowed those pills, the pain had moved up as far as my eye socket and even that hurt. Bizarre.
20 minutes later, I felt perfectly normal. Let us now all bow down and give thanks for modern pharmaceuticals. The pharmaceutical companies may perpetrate the biggest ripoffs of consumers in modern and ancient history, but god knows, they do give people what they need.
I know I've been writing a lot lately about being sick, but this afternoon was kind of memorable. I had to drive to one of our other plants for something and I was only there for a few minutes before I turned around and started back. It was a pretty nice day for a drive--sunny, the roads have pretty much cleared up from the 5 inches of snow we've gotten over the last three days, and Wisconsin Public Radio was discussing something somewhat interesting.
I am going to have to have a root canal, and I'm on the waiting list for the endodontist. They're going to call when they have an opening and I'll have 2 hours to drop everything and get up there, to be relieved of the pain that's had me popping Tylenol at an alarming rate.
As I left town, I noticed that my already-you-know-that-you-can-usually-expect-it late afternoon throb was starting in my jaw, but it wasn't too bad, so I started out. It's a 45-minute trip and within 15 minutes, my jaw really started to hurt. By 30 minutes, I was calculating how many more miles I had to go. There isn't really anywhere to stop on this trip to buy Tylenol and I stupidly didn't have any with me.
I pulled up at the plant I worked at and went straight to the vending machine that dispenses commonly used medications. I popped in my quarter and trudged up the stairs to the bubbler to swallow my relief. You would not have wanted to get in my way as I headed towards those pills. I told Greg when I got home that if he had held those pills from me and required me to murder someone to get them, I'd have asked him who he wanted killed.
My whole face and head felt throbbing and tight and tense and sensitive and hot and hurt. By the time I swallowed those pills, the pain had moved up as far as my eye socket and even that hurt. Bizarre.
20 minutes later, I felt perfectly normal. Let us now all bow down and give thanks for modern pharmaceuticals. The pharmaceutical companies may perpetrate the biggest ripoffs of consumers in modern and ancient history, but god knows, they do give people what they need.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Reinhard Ulrich, RIP
I got a message yesterday from an old college friend (she's not old, but college was kind of a long time ago) about the death of one of my favorite professors. Reinhard Ulrich was 77 and died of cancer. He was a wonderful man, who had a lot to do with my becoming confident that I could actually handle college and subsequently, life.
Well, to tell the truth, when I first sat down in his class, my self-confidence took a beating. Then later I started to believe I could really handle college. You see, I didn't really know anyone who had attended college when I moved to campus. I wondered if I could really handle it and I was convinced that almost everyone was smarter than I was.
Second semester of my freshman year, I was chosen for my college's honors series, based on my first semester's grades. Reinie (as we called him behind his back) led that Freshman Honors class (I wonder if he was brave or if he got stuck with us). The first couple of classes, the class discussed Picasso and Great Books.
When I say the class, I mean most of other people in the room discussed those things and definitely not me, because I'd never heard the phrase Great Book in my life and although of course I knew Picasso was an artist, I couldn't have told you any particular piece of art that he sculpted or painted.
What turned the tide was when we got the syllabus for the class (by the way, I'm sure it's not a surprise that I had no idea what a syllabus was when I started college), I bought the books, and I started reading Plato. Even though I thought the whole allegory of the cave thing was pretty bizarre, I had some semi-intelligent things to say in class and I gained confidence every week. That was mostly due to Reinie, who someone managed to never make you feel like you had said something stupid even when you pretty much did.
I'll always remember him talking about his "beasties," his German accent (it was the first time in my life I'd spent any appreciable time with someone not born in America), and his kindness. He died much too soon, before he could make men and women out of even more raw freshmen. Lakeland won't be the same without his presence.
Well, to tell the truth, when I first sat down in his class, my self-confidence took a beating. Then later I started to believe I could really handle college. You see, I didn't really know anyone who had attended college when I moved to campus. I wondered if I could really handle it and I was convinced that almost everyone was smarter than I was.
Second semester of my freshman year, I was chosen for my college's honors series, based on my first semester's grades. Reinie (as we called him behind his back) led that Freshman Honors class (I wonder if he was brave or if he got stuck with us). The first couple of classes, the class discussed Picasso and Great Books.
When I say the class, I mean most of other people in the room discussed those things and definitely not me, because I'd never heard the phrase Great Book in my life and although of course I knew Picasso was an artist, I couldn't have told you any particular piece of art that he sculpted or painted.
What turned the tide was when we got the syllabus for the class (by the way, I'm sure it's not a surprise that I had no idea what a syllabus was when I started college), I bought the books, and I started reading Plato. Even though I thought the whole allegory of the cave thing was pretty bizarre, I had some semi-intelligent things to say in class and I gained confidence every week. That was mostly due to Reinie, who someone managed to never make you feel like you had said something stupid even when you pretty much did.
I'll always remember him talking about his "beasties," his German accent (it was the first time in my life I'd spent any appreciable time with someone not born in America), and his kindness. He died much too soon, before he could make men and women out of even more raw freshmen. Lakeland won't be the same without his presence.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Depression
My cat just died, one of my best employees unexpectedly gave notice and I have to try to do his work myself (with one other person's help) until I find a replacement, I've only received four resumes for the job this week, I was already behind in my old job duties before this came up, my teeth hurt and I'm afraid I'm going to need a root canal, I'm still taking an antibiotic and I don't like taking medicine, Julia gave me her cold, I haven't been sleeping for crap lately, I fired a guy today who has a wife and two kids at home (he deserved it, but I feel badly for them), the restaurant we went to tonight had a heating vent above our table that blew really hot air from right on top of us every five minutes which dried out my contact lenses until I didn't think I'd ever be able to peel them off my eyes, and our sleeper sofa mechanism broke and we have to buy a new couch.
On the good side, we have banana bread, chocolate ice cream, fudge cookies, and Nestle Tollhouse bar cookies in the house. We never have this many treats around, so I guess things are looking up.
On the good side, we have banana bread, chocolate ice cream, fudge cookies, and Nestle Tollhouse bar cookies in the house. We never have this many treats around, so I guess things are looking up.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Overhauling
What would you change about your house if you had, say, $150,000. You can't move, you have to remodel your current home. And you have to spend it all on remodeling, you can't use it for anything else.
Greg and I have been in our house for eight years now and we've talked maybe a little more than occasionally about what we'd do to our house if we won the lottery (this fantasy might become a little closer to reality, by the way, if we actually played the lottery more than twice per year). Greg always says that we'd move to a brick house; he has this serious obsession about brick houses, but moving is not in the rules.
First, I'd bump out the entire back of the bottom story. Our living room is kind of small, to the point that we have only ever had it arranged one way, because the couch will only fit on the wall by the big windows.
Next to the living room, I'd bump out the dinette. We have to have a tiny little table (from Ikea, naturally) because that's the only size that will fit. You can get six people around it, as long as they don't mind being cozy and you don't mind that you don't actually have room for any food, just the plates, glasses, and silverware.
Then next to that, I'd bump out the kitchen, not so much because I think we need a bigger kitchen (though Greg has ideas on that front if he cares to contribute), but because on the other side of the kitchen is the doorway to the mud room. If we bumped out the kitchen but kept it the same size, we could make the mud room bigger and I'd actually have room to fold my clean laundry and maybe leave out an ironing board and have a bigger closet for all of the stuff that first comes into the house through the back door that's also in that room.
Then I'd probably go upstairs and bump out our master bathroom. I'm not the whirlpool tub kind of person, which is good because we don't have one, but it would be nice to have a double vanity, at least.
Then I'd bump out our master bedroom a little. We actually have a really nice sized master bedroom, but if it was even larger, we might be able to split off a small study full of bookshelves. Then me or Greg could be on the computer in the corner of our room without having to try to be quiet for the one trying to get to sleep.
And that's it. All of these bumpouts are on the back of the house, so we could just take off the back of the house and do the expansion everywhere at once. As a bonus, even though Allie doesn't need a bigger bedroom, she'd get a little more space too.
OK, that's my $150,000. How about you?
Greg and I have been in our house for eight years now and we've talked maybe a little more than occasionally about what we'd do to our house if we won the lottery (this fantasy might become a little closer to reality, by the way, if we actually played the lottery more than twice per year). Greg always says that we'd move to a brick house; he has this serious obsession about brick houses, but moving is not in the rules.
First, I'd bump out the entire back of the bottom story. Our living room is kind of small, to the point that we have only ever had it arranged one way, because the couch will only fit on the wall by the big windows.
Next to the living room, I'd bump out the dinette. We have to have a tiny little table (from Ikea, naturally) because that's the only size that will fit. You can get six people around it, as long as they don't mind being cozy and you don't mind that you don't actually have room for any food, just the plates, glasses, and silverware.
Then next to that, I'd bump out the kitchen, not so much because I think we need a bigger kitchen (though Greg has ideas on that front if he cares to contribute), but because on the other side of the kitchen is the doorway to the mud room. If we bumped out the kitchen but kept it the same size, we could make the mud room bigger and I'd actually have room to fold my clean laundry and maybe leave out an ironing board and have a bigger closet for all of the stuff that first comes into the house through the back door that's also in that room.
Then I'd probably go upstairs and bump out our master bathroom. I'm not the whirlpool tub kind of person, which is good because we don't have one, but it would be nice to have a double vanity, at least.
Then I'd bump out our master bedroom a little. We actually have a really nice sized master bedroom, but if it was even larger, we might be able to split off a small study full of bookshelves. Then me or Greg could be on the computer in the corner of our room without having to try to be quiet for the one trying to get to sleep.
And that's it. All of these bumpouts are on the back of the house, so we could just take off the back of the house and do the expansion everywhere at once. As a bonus, even though Allie doesn't need a bigger bedroom, she'd get a little more space too.
OK, that's my $150,000. How about you?
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
I have enough holes, thank you
For the last three days, our local paper has been running a series on the current popularity of tattoos, piercing, branding, and scarification. That last one, if you didn't know, is the process of purposely cutting your skin with scalpels (or a dull stick I guess, if you're into the pain and infection aspect of it) to leave intentional scars.
For some reason, I started talking about this at work with our receptionist, who is maybe 25 or so. I had noticed, of course, that she has a nose piercing and some holes in her ears, but I found out just how obtuse I am.
She actually has two tattoos, one on the top of her foot and one she just had started three weeks ago, in the middle of her upper back between her shoulder blades. She has a bar piercing that goes all the way across the top of her left ear (so two different holes). She has four piercings at the top of her right ear. And she has the nostril piercing.
The biggest shocker, however, is that she has a tongue piercing that I never noticed, even though she's been working with us for three months. I really need new glasses, my god. She tried to make me feel better by explaining that she's become very expert at laughing and talking with her mouth mostly closed and when she demonstrated, I realized that she's absolutely practiced at hiding her piercing. I swear to god, I never noticed a thing and I see her every single work day.
I talked about the newspaper series with her and that the writer had emphasized how long some piercings take to heal. There's this one place called the tragus that's part of your ear and the newspaper said that it never really heals after piercing, ever. That's when she admitted that she's had three of the four holes in her right ear for 9 or 10 months and they still haven't healed.
Greg and I actually talk about tattoos with Allie all the time, telling her how stupid she would be to get one (the comment section is at the bottom of the post, people). I'm not sure if she or Julia will completely rebel in 11 (or 14 1/2) years and decide a tattoo is the perfect way to really piss off her parents.
Just in case, I think I'll remember our receptionist's story about her ear not healing. And if her ear ever falls off from infection, Allie's going on a road trip to visit her!
For some reason, I started talking about this at work with our receptionist, who is maybe 25 or so. I had noticed, of course, that she has a nose piercing and some holes in her ears, but I found out just how obtuse I am.
She actually has two tattoos, one on the top of her foot and one she just had started three weeks ago, in the middle of her upper back between her shoulder blades. She has a bar piercing that goes all the way across the top of her left ear (so two different holes). She has four piercings at the top of her right ear. And she has the nostril piercing.
The biggest shocker, however, is that she has a tongue piercing that I never noticed, even though she's been working with us for three months. I really need new glasses, my god. She tried to make me feel better by explaining that she's become very expert at laughing and talking with her mouth mostly closed and when she demonstrated, I realized that she's absolutely practiced at hiding her piercing. I swear to god, I never noticed a thing and I see her every single work day.
I talked about the newspaper series with her and that the writer had emphasized how long some piercings take to heal. There's this one place called the tragus that's part of your ear and the newspaper said that it never really heals after piercing, ever. That's when she admitted that she's had three of the four holes in her right ear for 9 or 10 months and they still haven't healed.
Greg and I actually talk about tattoos with Allie all the time, telling her how stupid she would be to get one (the comment section is at the bottom of the post, people). I'm not sure if she or Julia will completely rebel in 11 (or 14 1/2) years and decide a tattoo is the perfect way to really piss off her parents.
Just in case, I think I'll remember our receptionist's story about her ear not healing. And if her ear ever falls off from infection, Allie's going on a road trip to visit her!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Medicine all around
In our continuing fight against family illness, Julia and I are now on medication. Julia has been getting Tylenol intermittently for fever and she also has a nasty cough and runny nose, poor child. I called my dentist this morning because I have an infected cheek/face, and I'm on an antibiotic as a precaution. So I am quite ready for all the members of my family to regain their health, starting ohhh, now.
In other news, Allie seriously needs to work on her writing at school. Julia is going to waste away if she doesn't start eating something more substantial than cottage cheese and fruit snacks, and the weather is getting freezing cold again (in other words, back to normal January temps).
I think it's time for me to develop Seasonal Affective Disorder. Too bad I'm not a sunlamp person.
In other news, Allie seriously needs to work on her writing at school. Julia is going to waste away if she doesn't start eating something more substantial than cottage cheese and fruit snacks, and the weather is getting freezing cold again (in other words, back to normal January temps).
I think it's time for me to develop Seasonal Affective Disorder. Too bad I'm not a sunlamp person.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Brush your teeth
Seriously, if you haven't brushed your teeth in the last couple of hours, go do it right now.
Otherwise, you could end up like me right now, in serious pain from the "simple" filling I got at the dentist this afternoon.
In the past, I've had root canals, fillings, crowns, bleaching, bonding, teeth pulled, and an implant. This, at this moment, is right up there with how I felt before I got my root canals, painwise.
I took some Tylenol and can't take anymore for another 1 1/2 hours. I've been icing my cheek for the last hour.
My mouth still hurts. I'd moan if it didn't hurt to open my mouth. I guess I can moan with my mouth shut?
Otherwise, you could end up like me right now, in serious pain from the "simple" filling I got at the dentist this afternoon.
In the past, I've had root canals, fillings, crowns, bleaching, bonding, teeth pulled, and an implant. This, at this moment, is right up there with how I felt before I got my root canals, painwise.
I took some Tylenol and can't take anymore for another 1 1/2 hours. I've been icing my cheek for the last hour.
My mouth still hurts. I'd moan if it didn't hurt to open my mouth. I guess I can moan with my mouth shut?
Illness continues to stalk our home
The latest victim, Julia. She came out with a croupy cough starting early yesterday morning, and by the time she woke from her nap in late afternoon, she was up to a temp of 103.
Some Tylenol made her feel better and she even played a little later in the day. At this point, it appears to just be a cold. Julia loves her Tylenol. Maybe the fact that it's bubble gum flavored has something to do with that.
I remember loving the orange taste of the baby aspirin I chewed as a kid, so who I am to talk. My sisters and I did know better than to eat the chocolate Ex-lax when we weren't sick, however!
Nowadays, some pharmacies have flavor additives for nasty tasting medicines that aren't made just for kids. As long as our kids are still stymied by child-proof caps, I guess that kind of flavoring is a good thing.
In better news, little Ashton Wade came home from the hospital last Friday. I think he weighs a little over 4 lbs. right now. Here's hoping his family has a smooth transition to becoming a fivesome and that he continues to flourish.
Some Tylenol made her feel better and she even played a little later in the day. At this point, it appears to just be a cold. Julia loves her Tylenol. Maybe the fact that it's bubble gum flavored has something to do with that.
I remember loving the orange taste of the baby aspirin I chewed as a kid, so who I am to talk. My sisters and I did know better than to eat the chocolate Ex-lax when we weren't sick, however!
Nowadays, some pharmacies have flavor additives for nasty tasting medicines that aren't made just for kids. As long as our kids are still stymied by child-proof caps, I guess that kind of flavoring is a good thing.
In better news, little Ashton Wade came home from the hospital last Friday. I think he weighs a little over 4 lbs. right now. Here's hoping his family has a smooth transition to becoming a fivesome and that he continues to flourish.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Memories of Piggy
I feel a little better emotionally prepared today to tell some favorite stories about Pig, who died two days ago at age 13.
Greg picked Pig initially at the humane society because she was the only kitten who wasn't making a lot of noise. As soon as her got her in the car to take her home, he realized how mistaken he was on that front. She fit in Greg's hand and was basically a ball of black, brown, and tan fur (a tortoiseshell).
Initially, her name was Grendel, after the monster in Beowolf. No one knew what Greg meant when he explained that, because Greg didn't know any other English majors at the time. Her name became Pig, because of her appetite.
Pig was eventually spayed and front declawed. Before that happened, Greg lived in a townhouse apartment with open carpeted stairs. He remembers sitting in his living room, watching her use her little needle-sharp claws to climb up the stairs backwards, hanging upside down.
Upstairs in the townhouse, there was a rather thin wooden railing around the stair opening. Pig loved to walk along the top of the railing, even after the day when Greg was sitting in his living room and Piggy fell from the top floor to land on the carpeted first floor. Greg says she laid there winded for a minute and then got up, acting out the traditional cat posture of "I meant to do that."
Once Greg and I started dating, I told him that I thought Pig would love to look out his screened front door (his windows were kind of high up and Pig loved to look at birds). I set her up on a chair in the doorway and Greg and I started to watch TV. A few minutes later, we both heard Pig meowing rather frantically. We figured out that she's leaned against the screen and fallen out the bottom of the screen where it was torn. Poor Pig had never been outside and she was completely freaked by finding herself on the front porch.
When Greg and I moved in together, Pig had to adjust to having another cat in the house (my cat, Butterscotch--who died four years ago) and to a new house. It was not easy for her. I don't think she even came out of the spare bedroom for the first two weeks. However, when we moved to an apartment in Wisconsin and they were starting from neutral territory, Pig was the brave one who explored all of the floors of the townhouse first.
Pig and Butterscotch fought a lot initially. Greg and I used to hate it when we'd be in bed, absolutely sound asleep, and the cats would chase each other completely across our bodies. There was inevitably a paw or three that would hit you right in the middle of your chest or stomach and suddenly, shockingly steal your breath.
I pretty much have always gotten up in the morning earlier than Greg. Pig and I quickly developed a routine of her waiting on the floor by the bathroom cabinet until I finished putting in my contact lenses, then she'd get intense loving for at least three or four minutes each day.
We used to say that Pig was coming to 'have sex' when she'd get these fits where she demanded intense petting from various people--Greg, me, my mom, and my sisters, especially.
Before she developed diabetes, Pig was quite a fat cat. When Butterscotch got sick, we didn't even realize that she was eating all of his food until we noticed how thin he'd gotten and how she was really porking up (bad pun). We put her on a diet after his death and she was in much better shape until she really got thin from diabetes.
Pig was always very gentle with our girls, though I think she resented how these squealing things took up our laps when she wanted to sit down and get some love. One of her last routines was waiting until Allie and Julia came downstairs right after waking up. They sit on opposite ends of the couch, usually with a blanket over their legs. Then Pig would jump up by Allie and settle down for a period of intense petting while the girls watched morning TV and ate some breakfast.
During the last night she was alive, Pig had gone downstairs to the basement to use her litterbox (or try to) and then she stayed downstairs, hiding under one of our futons. I went looking for her when I got up and she came out so I could pet her. I knew I was probably saying goodbye.
I carried her upstairs with me and she had a little drink of water. A few minutes later, I woke the girls and they settled on the couch. As sick as she was, Pig still went over to the couch as usual to get some love from Allie. I had to lift her up because she was so weak.
We loved her so much.
Greg picked Pig initially at the humane society because she was the only kitten who wasn't making a lot of noise. As soon as her got her in the car to take her home, he realized how mistaken he was on that front. She fit in Greg's hand and was basically a ball of black, brown, and tan fur (a tortoiseshell).
Initially, her name was Grendel, after the monster in Beowolf. No one knew what Greg meant when he explained that, because Greg didn't know any other English majors at the time. Her name became Pig, because of her appetite.
Pig was eventually spayed and front declawed. Before that happened, Greg lived in a townhouse apartment with open carpeted stairs. He remembers sitting in his living room, watching her use her little needle-sharp claws to climb up the stairs backwards, hanging upside down.
Upstairs in the townhouse, there was a rather thin wooden railing around the stair opening. Pig loved to walk along the top of the railing, even after the day when Greg was sitting in his living room and Piggy fell from the top floor to land on the carpeted first floor. Greg says she laid there winded for a minute and then got up, acting out the traditional cat posture of "I meant to do that."
Once Greg and I started dating, I told him that I thought Pig would love to look out his screened front door (his windows were kind of high up and Pig loved to look at birds). I set her up on a chair in the doorway and Greg and I started to watch TV. A few minutes later, we both heard Pig meowing rather frantically. We figured out that she's leaned against the screen and fallen out the bottom of the screen where it was torn. Poor Pig had never been outside and she was completely freaked by finding herself on the front porch.
When Greg and I moved in together, Pig had to adjust to having another cat in the house (my cat, Butterscotch--who died four years ago) and to a new house. It was not easy for her. I don't think she even came out of the spare bedroom for the first two weeks. However, when we moved to an apartment in Wisconsin and they were starting from neutral territory, Pig was the brave one who explored all of the floors of the townhouse first.
Pig and Butterscotch fought a lot initially. Greg and I used to hate it when we'd be in bed, absolutely sound asleep, and the cats would chase each other completely across our bodies. There was inevitably a paw or three that would hit you right in the middle of your chest or stomach and suddenly, shockingly steal your breath.
I pretty much have always gotten up in the morning earlier than Greg. Pig and I quickly developed a routine of her waiting on the floor by the bathroom cabinet until I finished putting in my contact lenses, then she'd get intense loving for at least three or four minutes each day.
We used to say that Pig was coming to 'have sex' when she'd get these fits where she demanded intense petting from various people--Greg, me, my mom, and my sisters, especially.
Before she developed diabetes, Pig was quite a fat cat. When Butterscotch got sick, we didn't even realize that she was eating all of his food until we noticed how thin he'd gotten and how she was really porking up (bad pun). We put her on a diet after his death and she was in much better shape until she really got thin from diabetes.
Pig was always very gentle with our girls, though I think she resented how these squealing things took up our laps when she wanted to sit down and get some love. One of her last routines was waiting until Allie and Julia came downstairs right after waking up. They sit on opposite ends of the couch, usually with a blanket over their legs. Then Pig would jump up by Allie and settle down for a period of intense petting while the girls watched morning TV and ate some breakfast.
During the last night she was alive, Pig had gone downstairs to the basement to use her litterbox (or try to) and then she stayed downstairs, hiding under one of our futons. I went looking for her when I got up and she came out so I could pet her. I knew I was probably saying goodbye.
I carried her upstairs with me and she had a little drink of water. A few minutes later, I woke the girls and they settled on the couch. As sick as she was, Pig still went over to the couch as usual to get some love from Allie. I had to lift her up because she was so weak.
We loved her so much.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Mom of the Year
I'll be waiting for my award after this one.
Today, I took both girls to the dentist. It was Julia's first time. I should emphasize, by the way, that Allie adores going to the dentist. It's a pediatric dentist office, which I insisted on because of my sister, Pam, who went on dental visits with me when I was a kid and who refused to open her mouth despite any threat or bribe (and yes, she paid for that in a big way later in her childhood).
This dental office has a movie theater theme, with many movie posters on the walls, movie theater fold-down stadium-style seats, a mannequin ticket taker at the registration desk, a big screen TV continuously showing movies that's dressed up with velvet curtains like a theater, and film wallpaper spooling around the walls. Each reclining plush dental chair has a personal flatscreen television showing children's movies, plus the regular TV screens around the walls that show other movies.
Children wear fancy sunglasses so they don't get the bright dental light in their eyes. X-rays are presented as taking photos of their teeth, and there are an extraordinary number of prizes, jewelry, and stickers available after each visit is completed.
And there are other pretty standard kid dentist features, like puppets with oversize real teeth to teach brushing, different toys to hold (all movie themes here), the gas nasal mask presented as an elephant's nose, etc.
At Allie's first dental visit, the technician took care to ask her flavor preference, gave her a ride in the chair, let her pick the pink sunglasses, demonstrated each tool on her hand first, and so on. She thought it was all wonderful and as soon as we finished, she immediately wanted to go back and see the dentist again.
Despite me and Allie talking up the dentist, Julia wasn't so sure she wanted to go. Allie's exam was first and she passed everything with flying colors, as normal. Julia was a little tentative watching her at first, then she was pretty interested in everything that was happening. I allowed myself to get hopeful (big mistake).
Julia got in the dental chair with only a little urging. She enjoyed the ride up and down in the chair. Then the technician started to show her the soft brush (which polishes her teeth) and Julia didn't want that anywhere near her hand, let alone in her mouth. She accepted a drink from the water sprayer, but didn't want the suction thing to come close. It went downhill from there.
Before long, she was sitting in my lap in the chair (because she wouldn't sit by herself anymore), holding her hands over her mouth while me, Allie, and the technician (who irritatingly keep referring to Julia as her "new friend") tried to convince her to open her mouth. We all tried talking. We resorted to threats. We got limited success with bribery.
We all gave up, but she still needed to be examined by the dentist himself. Dr. Wilson came over and Julia wasn't haven't any of it. She was done. She didn't want to hear anything about how the doctor just wanted to look and wouldn't give any ouchies or put anything inside her mouth. She was finished with this whole dentist thing.
So I leaned her back in my arms and she started to scream. Loudly. And kick the technician (until I grabbed her legs). Did I mention that this is one big, really open dentist office. I would guess that at least 30 people could hear her yelling.
The good news is that because she was screaming, the dentist actually got a really good review of her mouth. She doesn't have any cavities (which is surprising, considering how she loves to chew her toothbrush and swallow toothpaste instead of brush) and her teeth are developing normally (despite the thumbsucking, which we need to convince her to stop, hopefully by her next appointment--at which time she'll be about the age that Allie was when she quit).
Julia was thrilled to get out of the office and go get macaroni and cheese for lunch. I took her back to daycare, took Allie back to school, and went back to work. And I only have ten more gray hairs to show for my day.
Today, I took both girls to the dentist. It was Julia's first time. I should emphasize, by the way, that Allie adores going to the dentist. It's a pediatric dentist office, which I insisted on because of my sister, Pam, who went on dental visits with me when I was a kid and who refused to open her mouth despite any threat or bribe (and yes, she paid for that in a big way later in her childhood).
This dental office has a movie theater theme, with many movie posters on the walls, movie theater fold-down stadium-style seats, a mannequin ticket taker at the registration desk, a big screen TV continuously showing movies that's dressed up with velvet curtains like a theater, and film wallpaper spooling around the walls. Each reclining plush dental chair has a personal flatscreen television showing children's movies, plus the regular TV screens around the walls that show other movies.
Children wear fancy sunglasses so they don't get the bright dental light in their eyes. X-rays are presented as taking photos of their teeth, and there are an extraordinary number of prizes, jewelry, and stickers available after each visit is completed.
And there are other pretty standard kid dentist features, like puppets with oversize real teeth to teach brushing, different toys to hold (all movie themes here), the gas nasal mask presented as an elephant's nose, etc.
At Allie's first dental visit, the technician took care to ask her flavor preference, gave her a ride in the chair, let her pick the pink sunglasses, demonstrated each tool on her hand first, and so on. She thought it was all wonderful and as soon as we finished, she immediately wanted to go back and see the dentist again.
Despite me and Allie talking up the dentist, Julia wasn't so sure she wanted to go. Allie's exam was first and she passed everything with flying colors, as normal. Julia was a little tentative watching her at first, then she was pretty interested in everything that was happening. I allowed myself to get hopeful (big mistake).
Julia got in the dental chair with only a little urging. She enjoyed the ride up and down in the chair. Then the technician started to show her the soft brush (which polishes her teeth) and Julia didn't want that anywhere near her hand, let alone in her mouth. She accepted a drink from the water sprayer, but didn't want the suction thing to come close. It went downhill from there.
Before long, she was sitting in my lap in the chair (because she wouldn't sit by herself anymore), holding her hands over her mouth while me, Allie, and the technician (who irritatingly keep referring to Julia as her "new friend") tried to convince her to open her mouth. We all tried talking. We resorted to threats. We got limited success with bribery.
We all gave up, but she still needed to be examined by the dentist himself. Dr. Wilson came over and Julia wasn't haven't any of it. She was done. She didn't want to hear anything about how the doctor just wanted to look and wouldn't give any ouchies or put anything inside her mouth. She was finished with this whole dentist thing.
So I leaned her back in my arms and she started to scream. Loudly. And kick the technician (until I grabbed her legs). Did I mention that this is one big, really open dentist office. I would guess that at least 30 people could hear her yelling.
The good news is that because she was screaming, the dentist actually got a really good review of her mouth. She doesn't have any cavities (which is surprising, considering how she loves to chew her toothbrush and swallow toothpaste instead of brush) and her teeth are developing normally (despite the thumbsucking, which we need to convince her to stop, hopefully by her next appointment--at which time she'll be about the age that Allie was when she quit).
Julia was thrilled to get out of the office and go get macaroni and cheese for lunch. I took her back to daycare, took Allie back to school, and went back to work. And I only have ten more gray hairs to show for my day.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Rest in peace, gentle soul
Pig died today. She was 13 years old.
Greg got her as a kitten, from the humane society, about a year before he and I met. She had a wonderful, peaceful life full of attention from her loving slave Greg until he moved in with me. Then she gained another slave.
I don't think Pig knew she was even a cat at that point. She used to sit on the counter in Greg's bathroom and meow at the cat in the mirror.
She was a very sweet cat, with very soft fur, and she was always gentle, even with our girls. We are all going to miss her tremendously.
Goodbye, sweet Piggy. I hope you're in kitty heaven, rolling in catnip, resting on the softest of pillows, and dipping your paw into huge glasses of frothy milk. We love you.
Greg got her as a kitten, from the humane society, about a year before he and I met. She had a wonderful, peaceful life full of attention from her loving slave Greg until he moved in with me. Then she gained another slave.
I don't think Pig knew she was even a cat at that point. She used to sit on the counter in Greg's bathroom and meow at the cat in the mirror.
She was a very sweet cat, with very soft fur, and she was always gentle, even with our girls. We are all going to miss her tremendously.
Goodbye, sweet Piggy. I hope you're in kitty heaven, rolling in catnip, resting on the softest of pillows, and dipping your paw into huge glasses of frothy milk. We love you.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Illness all around
I've said it before and I'll say it again (because you can't stop me)--sometimes it seems that the purpose of the holidays is to get together with your family and friends and exchange germs. After all, you get over the germs that you yourself had and since it is winter, what else is there to do but get new ones and feel miserable again.
The latest victims are our daycare provider and her older son, Jaden. Rather mysterious high fevers. So today, the girls went to a daycare center that's affiliated with Greg's work.
The last time they were there (I think more than 2 years ago), Julia cried and sobbed and was hysterical that Daddy was leaving. And unlike how those things usually go, where the child forgets about Daddy or Mommy by about 3 minutes after they leave, she continued to cry and sob. Greg actually had to leave work and bring her home.
Fortunately, today went just fine. Julia doesn't remember her last visit there and I don't think Allie really does either. When it came time for Greg to leave, both of them were too busy looking at all of the new toys to pay much attention and it sounds like they had a busy, fun day. Except for the three naughty boys that Julia told me threw things.
The weather has continued to be very mild, especially for January, but it's also been cloudy, gray, and often misting or raining almost every day. We're projected to have three more days of 45-50 degree weather before Mother Nature remembers that we live in Wisconsin and the temperature drops back to normal (5 degrees or so).
In other news, Pig the cat is not recovering well from her vet visit last week. She went back to the vet today for fluids and to be fed through a tube. She's home and listless tonight but we're taking her back tomorrow for more treatment. We're crossing our fingers that she'll rally tomorrow and get through this. Poor Piggy.
The latest victims are our daycare provider and her older son, Jaden. Rather mysterious high fevers. So today, the girls went to a daycare center that's affiliated with Greg's work.
The last time they were there (I think more than 2 years ago), Julia cried and sobbed and was hysterical that Daddy was leaving. And unlike how those things usually go, where the child forgets about Daddy or Mommy by about 3 minutes after they leave, she continued to cry and sob. Greg actually had to leave work and bring her home.
Fortunately, today went just fine. Julia doesn't remember her last visit there and I don't think Allie really does either. When it came time for Greg to leave, both of them were too busy looking at all of the new toys to pay much attention and it sounds like they had a busy, fun day. Except for the three naughty boys that Julia told me threw things.
The weather has continued to be very mild, especially for January, but it's also been cloudy, gray, and often misting or raining almost every day. We're projected to have three more days of 45-50 degree weather before Mother Nature remembers that we live in Wisconsin and the temperature drops back to normal (5 degrees or so).
In other news, Pig the cat is not recovering well from her vet visit last week. She went back to the vet today for fluids and to be fed through a tube. She's home and listless tonight but we're taking her back tomorrow for more treatment. We're crossing our fingers that she'll rally tomorrow and get through this. Poor Piggy.
Monday, January 01, 2007
New Year
Julia does not eat. We fix food that we know she likes and she often looks at it, plays with it, then says her tummy hurts or that she's done and she gets down from the table.
I think the child subsists on cottage cheese, fruit snacks, chicken nuggets and cereal. Tonight, the girls got the following on their plates: pigs in a blanket (hot dogs wrapped in buttery crescent rolls), macaroni and cheese (Kraft, of course), and cottage cheese.
Julia was in one of her no-I-don't-want-cottage-cheese moods, even though it's often all she eats for dinner. She picked some of the roll off her hot dog, complained that her macaroni and cheese was hot (as it cooled and congealed on her plate), and didn't touch her cottage cheese.
So of course, we knew she'd be asking for fruit snacks later. And, after her bath, she did. I told her she could have melon, a banana, or grapes. She said, "I show you what I want," and went off to the refrigerator.
I wasn't watching too closely and she didn't call me over, so I wasn't sure exactly what she was doing as she dug in the vegetable and fruit drawer. Finally, I asked her what she was up to and she said she was getting oranges.
She walked past shortly, on her way downstairs to ask Daddy to peel some for her, with a mesh sack of oranges slung over her shoulder like Santa Claus. I couldn't help smiling, and she caught me looking at her as she circled back to get some napkins.
It's fun to have an independent 3 1/2 year old. Happy New Year!
I think the child subsists on cottage cheese, fruit snacks, chicken nuggets and cereal. Tonight, the girls got the following on their plates: pigs in a blanket (hot dogs wrapped in buttery crescent rolls), macaroni and cheese (Kraft, of course), and cottage cheese.
Julia was in one of her no-I-don't-want-cottage-cheese moods, even though it's often all she eats for dinner. She picked some of the roll off her hot dog, complained that her macaroni and cheese was hot (as it cooled and congealed on her plate), and didn't touch her cottage cheese.
So of course, we knew she'd be asking for fruit snacks later. And, after her bath, she did. I told her she could have melon, a banana, or grapes. She said, "I show you what I want," and went off to the refrigerator.
I wasn't watching too closely and she didn't call me over, so I wasn't sure exactly what she was doing as she dug in the vegetable and fruit drawer. Finally, I asked her what she was up to and she said she was getting oranges.
She walked past shortly, on her way downstairs to ask Daddy to peel some for her, with a mesh sack of oranges slung over her shoulder like Santa Claus. I couldn't help smiling, and she caught me looking at her as she circled back to get some napkins.
It's fun to have an independent 3 1/2 year old. Happy New Year!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)