Just mildly flipping out, right?

I have my first midterm exam on Monday. It's on microeconomics. I'm really, really disliking this class. My dislike doesn't have that much to do with the instructor, who is fine in person as a lecturer but who has a rather extreme tendency to flip flop on course requirements (you have to do two case studies/no wait, just one; you can write a paper instead/oh, no, you can't/oh, yes, you can; the midterm will be closed book and open note/I mean closed book and closed note/(and after strenuous protests from the class that that wasn't school policy) OK, open book and open note).

It's the subject matter. The instructor made a comment last week that our textbook is more theoretical and model based than others he's seen (oh, joy) and what that means is that there's a whole heck of a lot of algebra and formulas and graphing and much less plain English discussing why economics is important for a manager to understand.

I actually have a minor in economics from my undergrad career, but I wonder now if economic theory was easier to understand 20-some years ago, cause this subject is a bear for me to understand. I am anticipating significant freaking out in the next few days, until I get the exam (which our instructor is scheduling for three hours) over with.

Weirdos

I took our cats to the vet this week. They hadn't been in almost three years, since they were just kittens. Rabies the cat and Simon the cat both needed their rabies shots. They're both fine and healthy and not overweight (well, Rabies isn't and Simon just barely isn't).

We used to have two other cats who knew what it meant when we got out the cat carriers to go to the vet and who put up dramatic fights. There's nothing like the fun of being almost late for the vet appointment, being on your knees bent over and sweating, and poking your broom under the bed because your cat escaped there. This is how those confrontations went:

First, I would carefully and quietly close every bedroom door so the cat didn't figure out what was going on (you think I jest about this; I am not joking). Then close the bathroom doors (they try to hide behind the toilet). Close the laundry room door (Pig the cat once tried desperately to get behind the dryer). And for god's sake, close the door to the basement. Way too many hiding places down there.

Then get out the car carrier. While the cat is frantically running up the stairs, only to be confronted by closed bedroom doors, unscrew all of the fasteners on the cat carrier and remove the top section. Carefully place the cover to the side and make sure the door to the carrier is mostly in place.

Now, wearing something you don't care about because stress is going to cause the cat to shed all over you, catch the cat. Yes, this may involve chasing and undignified running. Shit, she got behind the couch. Stomp on the floor and hope she runs for another hiding place.

Catch the cat. Hold her tightly. Listen to growling from your usually loving cat. Kneel down and bend over, placing the cat inside the cat carrier. Watch out for the back claws. Using your entire torso, hold the cat down in the bed of the carrier. If the cat gets one leg up to the side, unhook the claws and put the leg inside the carrier. Now carefully hold the cat with one arm and reach for the top of the carrier.

Somehow maneuver so that you let go of the cat and slam the cover in place without the cat getting out. Grab that door, the cat's been known to push it out and escape. Hold the cover down, the cat's been known to throw his entire body against the closed but unfastened lid in an attempt to get out. Quickly screw enough fasteners so the lid stays closed.

Rest. Listen to the cat swear at you in cat language (deep, mean-sounding growls). Now you're ready to go to the vet.

This week, I closed a few bedroom doors in preparation for the vet visit but not all of them because one of the cats was in Allie's room. I closed the basement door. Then I got out the cat carriers. I opened the door to one carrier to replace the newspaper lining it. Rabies the cat walked in to the cat carrier and sat down. So I closed the door. I opened the door to the other cat carrier. Simon the cat walked in and sat down. So I closed the door.

I'd started the process 20 minutes before our appointment because I anticipated the chasing and the sweating and the poking and the wrestling and the eventual victory of brute strength. None of that occurred.

These are some weird freaking cats. It's unnatural.

Allie's 10!

We had Allie's 10th birthday party on her birthday, Saturday, this year. We were very happy that Greg's parents, my parents, and my sisters (and Jeff too) were able to come and visit. We didn't play any dice, just some Wii, but I hope they all had a good time. That evening, since all the parents were staying in hotels, we took the kids to one to go swimming at the indoor pool.

Julia was very excited. She told me about four times that she'd gotten her swimsuit and she kept reminding me to get towels. I put that all in the bag and then she came toward me with the last thing she thought we needed before going to the pool--our big bottle of sunscreen.

Umm, that's OK, honey.