Tag, I'm it

OK, Dan tagged me for this My Favorite Toddler Books thing, so here goes:

1. The Big Red Barn - Margaret Wise Brown

By the big red barn in the great green field, there was a pink pig who was learning to squeal . . .

Margaret Wise Brown also wrote Goodnight Moon, which usually gets listed as a favorite in these types of lists. I hate Goodnight Moon, but I really like the rhythms in The Big Red Barn. There was a time when I had pretty much the entire book memorized. Allie loved to look at the pictures in her board book and count the animals.

2. Are You My Mother? - P.D. Eastman

"I did have a mother," said the baby bird. "I know I did. I have to find her. I will. I WILL!"

Being a mom, I love this book that celebrates how dedicated a little bird could be to finding his mother, even though he was just hatched and he has no idea what she looks like. My favorite part is when he thinks that a steam shovel is his mother. He calls her a Snort.

3. Bedtime for Frances - Russell Hoban

"I think there's a monster in my room. Can I have some cake?"

Fortunately, I don't have one of those kids who finds every excuse imaginable to delay falling asleep. For that reason, Allie and Julia like to hear this book about a BADGER (so there, Dan!) who just isn't ready for bed. The above line is my absolute favorite in the book.

4. Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! - Mo Willems


"I thought he'd never leave. Hey, can I drive the bus? Please? I'll be careful. I tell you what: I'll just steer."

There's a whole series of these Pigeon books, and we also own the one where the Pigeon finds a hot dog and doesn't want to share it. Funny, great illustrations, and easy for a beginning reader who's heard it many, many times.

5. There's a Party at Mona's Tonight - Harry Allard

Potter decided to tunnel his way into Mona's basement. He said he was from the gas company and had come to read the gas meter. Mona didn't buy it. "Scram, Potter!" she said.

I have to admit, we didn't even buy this book. One of Greg's friends from work said that we had to have it, and she photocopied the pages and put them in a little binder for Allie. We don't have color in the illustrations, but this story about a pig who will do anything to get into a party at Mona's is very amusing. I like the quote above because it reminds me of when the gas meter man actually came to the house, opened the back door, and headed down the stairs to the basement without even knocking. You don't see stuff like that anymore (I say that in a creaky old person voice).

6. Little House books - Laura Ingalls Wilder

"Where's my little half pint, almost drunk up?"

I've written before about my love for these books, so I won't repeat myself, except to say that if I didn't dislike alliterative names, my firstborn would definitely have been named Laura.

By the way, part of the reason that Allie is named Alexandra is because of the Black Stallion books, which feature a boy named Alec.

I'm tagging Dwayne from Sluggo is Yoyo and either Shannon or Anna from Parrs So Far. I hope this will encourage either of them to write something new. I'd also like to tag my mother-in-law, who often comments here, but she doesn't have a blog. Marcia, you could comment on this post if you choose to participate. I know you get a lot of practice reading to toddlers!

This was fun, Dan. Thanks.

As heard in a car near you

A man, a woman, a 7-year-old girl, and a 3 1/2-year-old girl are riding along in the car.

The 7-year-old says, Mom, what's C-H-I-C-A-G-O.

The woman says, That's Chicago, honey. You've been there. Remember when you were in Uncle Shannon's and Aunt Anna's wedding, and remember when we went to Chicago to meet your cousin Anika?

(General conversation follows, then about 10 minutes passes)

The car pulls up next to a bus. The 3 1/2-year-old says, Mom, whats' G-H-L.

The woman says, Ummm, Gahull.

The younger child thinks for a minute, then says (in a tone of great delight), I've been there!

The man and the woman look at each other and both stifle laughter. The man says, Yes, honey, I remember when you went to Gahull!

The woman puts her hand to her mouth so she doesn't let any giggles out. The young child says, Yes, we went there and we did that thing!

The man lets out a chuckle and says, Yes, and that thing was really fun, wasn't it!

The child says, Yes, it was fun (in a tone of great satisfaction).

Yep, that time there was the best time ever. I remember it well.

In our war, the latest salvo

We purchased a new grill this evening, and if we ever find our camera (Greg had it the last time I saw it!), I'll take pictures tomorrow while we assemble it. The last time we bought a grill, it took Greg and my dad together a total of 2 1/2 hours to make all the pieces fit together. This time, stickers on similar grills at another store said that assembly would only take 1/2 hour. I'll believe that when I see it.

We also purchased a very heavy bag of river rock and Greg worked up a sweat vacuuming the latest piles of dirt into the vacuum and then putting several inches of rocks into our lovely glazed pot.

I guess I'm crossing my fingers. I'm not really looking forward to digging those kitty graves in the backyard. We'd probably chase away our last neighbors who aren't already moving.

OK, I'm getting a complex now

Probably back in November, our neighbor to the north put his house up for sale. Oh, that's too bad, we thought. But Sam's getting older, he has to pay someone to care for his lawn and clear his sidewalk, so he's probably moving to a condo where that will all be taken care of. His house hasn't sold yet, but there's a sign out front.

Probably back in February, our neighbor to the east put her house up for sale. Oh, that's too bad, we thought. But Lori has a big house and a new boyfriend, so maybe they're buying something new together or she's moving in with him. Her house hasn't sold yet, but there's a sign out front.

Today, our neighbor to the south put her house up for sale. We don't know what's up with Wendy and her boyfriend, but if our neighbors to the west put their house up for sale, we're giving our house a body-odor makeover.

You realize, of course, that this means war

We bought a new plant this weekend, to go in the big glazed pot on the floor in the living room. It's a beautiful plant, green and yellow streaked leaves, lush and healthy (we'll see how long that lasts!).

Greg put it in it's new home on Tuesday night and covered the little bit of soil that was showing under the leaves with aluminum foil, since we've had unfortunate experiences with the kittens digging in my plants. On Wednesday morning, there were huge piles of dirt all around the new plant (on the carpeting) from where the cats had dug.

Needless to say, Greg and I were not pleased when we saw the mess. Greg proceeded to beat both cats quite excessively, to the point that he was hissed at more than once. They both are avoiding him now, which is unfair because someone needs to convince them to stay away from the plants. They seemed cowed.

This morning, after eating breakfast, I went upstairs to where Greg was still in bed and asked him if he'd heard it. He said, heard what. I said, heard the cats saying f**k you, as they destroyed not one of my plants during the night, but three.

Three separate yet similar heaps of soil, a tipped over plant, torn leaves--the whole nine yards of bad cat behavior. They. Are. So. Incredibly. Naughty.

I cleaned up the mess (Greg did it last night). If they do it again tonight, we may not have any kittens by tomorrow evening. I think we can dig some nice little plots out in the backyard.

Transitions

Why is change so painful. Why do most people resist change with all of their being. Why is it so uncomfortable to face something different. And how can all of us become more resilient.

And how can you make people accept change more easily.

That's really the question for me lately. I know a lot of people (like 300) who are experiencing significant changes in their lives and I know that most of them are going to hate it.

I can understand not wanting to have your family be inconvenienced, for example. But I also know some people just instinctively seem to strongly dislike anything new. Even good new stuff.

What can you do or what can you say to make them realize that in almost all cases, change is a good thing?

Night night, sleep tight

Allie is going on her very first sleepover this Saturday night. One of her school friends is turning 7 on Monday and so she is being allowed to invite a friend for play outside, movies in the evening, and then a sleepover.

This morning, Allie was planning what to pack in her suitcase. She said she was going to need her sleeping bag, clothes, a hairbrush, her toothbrush and toothpaste, her stuffed dog, books, snacks, other toys . . . I told her she needs to bring clothes, her toothbrush, and a comb. We haven't heard from the other parents yet, but I doubt the other things are going to be necessary.

She is so excited. We were talking this morning and I said that she's going to have lots of fun with Hannah, then be able to settle down and have a wonderful sleep, then have breakfast and come home. She said, yes, Mom, but before we go to sleep we're going to have a pillow fight!

This all makes me remember sleeping over at my friend Mary's house when I was in grade school. We always had fun, but I must have always stayed over on Friday nights. On Saturday mornings, Mary had tap and ballet lessons at 8:00, downtown. I remember having to get up for her lessons, then sitting in the bleachers at the Community House, watching and wishing I could have tap and ballet lessons.

I remember a disastrous attempt at making pancakes one late morning. I remember us making phone calls to information in Hollywood, California for various stars. I remember her trying to teach me to play her piano.

I think it's cool that Allie is starting this part of her life. When she's as ancient as I am, she can remember this first adventure and tell her own daughter that she hopes she too has a wonderful time on her first sleepover.

Fly me to the moon

We had a lovely family adventure after dinner tonight. Greg suggested that we do something after dinner instead of the usual homework-read a book or two-TV routine, so all four of us went to the park across the street with Greg's new kite.

Which kicked ass, by the way! This thing really flew. Much better than Allie's little octopus kite, which refused to cooperate for most of the time. Greg's new kite is 54 inches wide and the tails are 12 feet long, not that you could tell most of the time because it was so high up that it's appearance was deceiving.

Four other people got out their kites after they saw ours, which was a neat bit of community competition. I went and got Greg's old rainbow delta kite after awhile, and that thing kicked ass too. We hurt our hands letting the string in and out, but it was totally worth it.

The girls made some new friends and we all got a good dose of fresh air and fun.

Then we rushed home to get in the homework-read a book or two thing before pajamas and bed. I'll bet the girls dream about flying tonight. I'm pretty sure I will.

Cheated again

We get food at Culver's quite a bit. Actually, we get food from Culver's way too much. It's very convenient to our house and we take advantage of that.

Today, we were cheated by Culver's. Greg wasn't hungry, so I got hamburger combos for me and Allie and a corndog combo for Julia, with onion rings. Julia really likes onion rings. I mean, really likes them.

The restaurant gave her french fries, despite the order tag, which was attached to our order, clearly stating onion rings. I thought she was going to cry. She thought one of the other bags were hers because she didn't see onion rings and when I told her they weren't, that she was going to have to eat french fries, you would have thought I told her she was going to have to eat dirt.

She was tired anyway because it wasn't long before her naptime and that added up to a volatile situation. So she decided to completely ignore her fries and eat her corndog, depressed. Such is the life of a 3-year-old. Nothing but disappointment.

My 300th blog

I would like to type something amazing for my 300th blog, but my husband wants to go to sleep. He's being mean as a result.

He's saying all kinds of mean things and then daring me to post them.

See, you people all think my husband is so sweet and funny and romantic, but there's a whole other side to Greg Lee.

There's the psychotic side. And I get to sleep with that side of my husband tonight. As long as he doesn't get up in the middle of the night to get an axe from the garage, I guess I will live to post again.

I hope.

That's not so bad

Well, I finally got around to calling the library today, to get myself put on the list for when the last Harry Potter book comes in in July.

The librarian took my library card number, then said I was on the list and that they'd be calling me when my book was available. I said, just out of curiosity, can you tell me where I am on the list, you know, approximately.

She said, oh, you're about 750.

I said, Oh, my goodness. So maybe I'll get the book in six months or so? She reassured me that the library is going to get about 120 copies of the book, so I might only have to wait a month or two.

That's not so bad.

Greg says I should just buy the book, but you know what--I doubt I'm going to ever read these books again. They're just too dark. So why would I spend any money. The library system gets my tax money whether I use the library or not. So I can wait.

As long as I get it by Christmas.

What's new

Well, lots of stuff at work that I'm not going to talk about.

Julia bit another kid at daycare yesterday, which is something we all thought she'd left behind at least a year ago. She's going to be 4 at the end of July, for pete's sake. I understand that another little girl was sitting on her, so this is how she took care of the situation. Our naughty girl had to stay in her room (and play with all of her toys in her room) last night instead of getting to play outside like her sister.

Allie got to go on a field trip to a nearby college last week to see a play featuring college students as actors. She thought it was awesome. As she said, "I just love to go to the theater!" She's basing this statement on going to see ballet productions of "Peter Pan" twice, once at three and once at four years of age, but who am I to argue. I remember going to see a show at the Pabst Theater in Milwaukee (a beautiful historic theater) when I was in grade school and thinking it was the most magical thing I'd ever seen.

My husband did either a very sweet thing for me yesterday or he did his husbandly duty, depending on which way you want to look at it. He took some time off work, picked up my car outside my office, and got four new tires put on for me. It was something that was way overdue--the guy at the shop said I was riding on the bars of the tires. Thank you, Gregory! I love you.

And in regards to the rest of my life these days, you know what they say. When you're hanging off a cliff and your fingers are starting to slip, dig in your fingernails. I hope there's gelatin in my multivitamins.

Neighborhood mystery

The girls were in bed and Greg and I were in the living room tonight when we heard sirens coming. A police officer tore down the street and pulled into our cul de sac, then turned off his lights and siren and parked. Then another. Then another. I'm pretty sure that's the entire active police force of our town on a Monday night, all on our street.

Of course, Greg and I were concerned about what was going on. The neighbor across the street has been taken to the hospital at least twice, so we thought maybe something had happened there. But no, they pulled up to one of our other neighbors and they all hopped out and rushed to the front door.

The house was really dark inside, so I started thinking burglars or something. Then someone opened the front door and turned on a light. The cops stood with someone and talked briefly, then two of the cops turned around, got in their cars, and left. The only thing I could hear was, "He's gone."

I went back inside, wondering what that was all about. This is a small city, so you never know when you might hear of what was going on. Until then, it's a mystery. Do you have a theory?

Blogging outside

Mother Nature decided to make it up to us yesterday and today for that last, nasty spring snowstorm. It's 85 degrees today and yesterday it was about 75. I'm typing on my laptop on the porch, watching the girls run around barefoot in the grass.

It was, I believe, two weeks ago that Greg took the picture in the front yard of Allie kissing her snowman. Now, my tulips are blooming, the trees are leafing out as though they're going to miss something if they haven't fully sprung by midnight, and the grass needs to be mowed.

Spring is here. Deb is happy.

Kitty torture

As I type, my father-in-law is cracking up. He's running our kittens ragged with a laser pointer.

When we got these two brothers, we thought that we would free-feed them, though that had never been successful with our other cats. In the past, we had to feed only twice per day or (actually, and) our cats were quite overweight.

Well, these two love to eat too and so it's quite fun to give them some extensive exercise to try to keep them in shape. I have to admit, Dave seems to be getting quite the giggles from running the kittens into the refrigerator and basement door.

I would never do something like that. It's more fun to run them into the front door, which is steel and gives a satisfying thunk.

Cats swimming

We've had a major problem lately with floods of water. I came downstairs the other morning at 6 a.m. and stepped in a big puddle of water in the hallway outside the half bath. Then I realized that the rag rug that sits there was completely soaked.

After checking the toilet, the sink, and interrogating the girls for spillage that they hadn't disclosed, we figured out that the water came from the cats. Yes, our 7-month old kittens have decided that instead of just drinking their water, they should splash it in like raccoons washing their walnuts.

Despite our house not being very old, our floors are really, really slanted right there (by the way, if we ever decide to move and you ever decide to buy our house, I'm completely kidding about that slanted floor thing, dramatic effect, you know), and it turns out that the splashing they were doing traveled a good eight feet in a nice little river.

In the process, the cats soaked the bottom legs of the Ikea butcher block tables we have there and I know they're really going to ruin them if we allow this to go on. Greg has decided on a program of aversion therapy involving extensive swatting. I'm hoping that this won't make them decide to stop drinking from their dish and start drinking elsewhere, like (horrors) the toilet or something. That would be as bad as if they were dogs!

Fifth helpings

Julia's appetite is a mystery. Normally, she subsists on cereal, chicken nuggets and fruit snacks, but sometimes she seems to have developed a second stomach.

Tonight was such an evening--we ate salads and macaroni and cheese and the girls had hotdogs too. We told the girls they had to eat some green beans to get a refill on their macaroni and cheese.

Allie, Greg and I finished eating and I cleaned up while Greg worked on the mess that the cats have been making with their water dish. Julia dithered about eating her green beans, which usually means that she's about to say that her stomach hurts (which it doesn't) and that she's done eating. That lasts for about ten minutes normally, until she starts asking for fruit snacks.

She walked away from her plate to go to the bathroom, then came back and perched on her chair. She asked for more macaroni and cheese and I reminded her for the third time that she had to eat her green beans. She settled down and started eating them, then I was happy to get her more macaroni and cheese.

And more macaroni and cheese. And more macaroni and cheese, and more macaroni and cheese. Yes, she had five helpings of macaroni and cheese (big tablespoonfuls).

Then she took some bites of out of her Easter chocolate bunny and she was done for the night. I guess the second stomach was momentarily satisfied.

OK, I'm back

I've been pretty unavailable for the last two weeks because I've been busy reading. And reading, and reading. Thousands of pages, literally. I've been reading the Harry Potter books.

My local library didn't have book one available, but I've read two, three, four, five and six. I finished six off in about 8 hours, more or less. Of course, I think it's only 600-some pages, as opposed to book five, which I think was about 870 pages. I would have finished six faster if I didn't have to keep stopping for the last 50 pages to get more Kleenex and blow my nose.

Why did I just read these books now, instead of years ago? I always knew that I wanted to read the series, but I didn't want to be one of those desperate people who camped out at the bookstore to get the next book.

Well, tomorrow I'm going to call my local library and put myself on the reserve list for when they get their shipment of book seven. I can't wait. No surprise, here, but these are really good books. I'm sure my girls will read them someday, and I look forward to sharing them with them.

Since I have to wait now until at least July for that last book, I'll get back to more of my normal blogging schedule. I know you've all been waiting with bated breath. And now your long wait is over, you lucky dogs.

Run for it!

We got 6 inches of wet, heavy snow yesterday. Yuck. Every tree and sign and power line and structure was covered with several inches of heavy snow. That wasn't the worst of it, however.

I drove about 45 minutes today to another one of our plants and all the way there, I kept getting attacked. Yes, attacked!

All of the trees were blowing in the wind and they kept sloughing off bits of the snow from their branches. These weren't little poofs of puffy snow, though, falling like snowflakes onto my windshield and the top of my car.

These were ice bombs! Seriously! The temperature has been just at the level where it appears every bit of snow on every branch has a bit of ice under it. And when the tree moved and dropped off some of it's snow, the bit of ice went with it.

It was really bad. There are kind of a lot of trees along the road on this trip, which I'll admit is not something I've given a lot of thought to before today. I kept jumping and glancing up warily, expecting to see a crack in the moonroof, it was that loud.

Attack of the spring snow--that would make a rotten movie title, but it would be accurate.

Much too busy

Can't take the time to do a real post . . . . reading Harry Potter, you know . . . on the fourth book and only 605 pages in to the 734-page book . . . how in the world can this be considered children's literature . . . . Harry's tackling the third task now, must run . . .

Dreaming of a stripper pole

Last night, the girls and I were driving back from visiting my family when I saw a curious sight. There was a dairy farm by the side of the road (that's not the curious part, it is Wisconsin, of course).

Cows were gathered in the middle of a fenced-in area, eating (that's not the curious part either, I saw numerous cows eating dinner as we passed various farms). Their heads were all down, snuffling up feed off a concrete bench type structure that ran down the middle of the pen (still not curious).

The curious part was that there was one cow who stood on top of the bench structure, appeared to pose, and then tore down the "runway" as though she wanted to show off for the other ladies.

I've seen so many movies with anthropomorphic animals lately that I couldn't help ascribing her antics to the desire to show off, to show it all off, baby!

Observations on gaming

This afternoon, this statement was heard. "Can we gamble now?" It was heard at my sister's house, after we'd eaten a large, traditional family-gathering dinner and done the dishes. It's our tradition to get out the dice or cards after these lunches/dinners and trade some funds. The only problem with the above statement is that it was made by my 3 1/2 year old.

She doesn't actually gamble, of course. She just sits on someone's lap or an extra chair and watches. Allie, however, who's 7, plays. And she won today too. About $5.

I'm thinking that if she keeps this up, she can pay for her own college education.

Odd, hmm

I was driving out of the gate where I work awhile back and saw something that caught my eye.

A trucker was backing into a receiving dock and he was carefully watching his mirrors instead of looking in front of him, where I was. I glanced up to see which way he was moving and where he was looking and I saw something that looked familiar.

There was a cat stretched on his dashboard, right against the front window of his semi truck, facing the steering wheel and between the wheel and the window. I could see his ears and the back of his head as he watched the driver back up.

I've certainly heard of truckers having dogs in their vehicles before, but this was the first cat I've ever seen. I had to wonder, where does the driver keep the litter box? Or is the cat road trained? Trained to only go outside like a dog would?

I can't imagine wanting to travel with the a litter box in the sleeper cab. I know those spaces are suprisingly roomy, but ick. I think the feline companionship would be nice, though!

Oooo, this is going to hurt

My husband enjoys food. He enjoys food even more if it has any number of unusual toppings on it. During our meals, it's not uncommon for him to try two or more seasonings with his food, including some things that I personally consider rather extreme.

Such was the scene at our dinner table last night. We ate beef roast, and it would have been a rather nice meal with the two of us somewhat alone because the girls hate beef roast and we'd already given them spaghettios, they'd eaten, and they were playing in the nearby living room (actually, fighting over toys, but that's another post).

So Greg and I could have had a lovely semi-intimate dinner, ignoring the sparring from the girls and talking about our daily activities or the stock market performance or what sexual position we were going to try out later that evening.

However, those dastardly English people visited recently and left my husband some gifts of food, which he is immensely enjoying sampling. Thus it was that Greg uttered the above statement. He was putting a rather large amount of Colman's Mustard on each sliver of his roast beef, pausing in rather dreadful anticipation, and then chewing, pausing, and swallowing rather rapidly.

It didn't even look like fun to me, but he swore that it was wonderful. He's about halfway through the jar already, so I guess he's serious. I just hope nothing vital burns up or falls off before the jar is empty.

Oh, lordy

After I wrote the post last night, I got out "Little House in the Big Woods" and started re-reading it. I got a good chunk of the way through the book and then Allie saw me and she wanted to hear some of it. I read out loud about the first time Laura ever went to town and what a wonderland she thought the town store was.

Then I told Allie that for Christmas, Laura and her sister only got new red mittens and one candy cane, and how excited they were to get such wonderful presents. That's when I got into trouble. Allie asked why Santa Claus didn't bring them more than that.

Oh, crap. I told her that this was a very long time ago and that children didn't get presents like she does now. Allie said, Mommy, is Santa Claus real? I said he was. She said, are the flying reindeer real? I said they were. She said, how do they do that? I said, no one really knows--want to hear some more about Laura? She said, I want to go to the North Pole and see them do that. Then she said she wanted to hear more about the Ingalls.

She's 7 years old. When do we have to admit the truth? I'M NOT READY!

Naming rights

If it weren't for the fact that I'm not fond of alliterative names, Allie would definitely have been named Laura, after Laura Ingalls Wilder. I was completely addicted to the Little House books as a child, to the point that my parents forbid me from taking any of the books out from the library again. You could look at the sign-out card for any of the series and my name would have been on them over and over.

I was fascinated with the Little House stories, starting with Little House in the Big Woods, which actually took place in my home state. That was pretty cool for an 8-year-old.

Something about the anecdotes rang home for me, and I used to think that maybe my grandmother had done similar things with her family when she was a little girl (well, I was only about 40 years off).

Things were awfully hard back then, and I didn't have any desire to actually become an Ingalls girl, but I did love to read about the adventures. Fortunately, we didn't have a boy, and I know Greg is grateful that my infatuation didn't extend to naming him Almanzo.

Fraud afoot

There's a movement going on that may mean the downfall of the huge ratings juggernaut that is "American Idol." There's a word you don't get to use every day, Juggernaut. I spelled it right first try, by the way, though I believe it's the first time I've ever spelled it. I would have been great at spelling bees, you know, if only our school had done them.

Anyway, a guy started a website a few years ago that actually seems to be having an impact this year. It's focus is to choose the worst contestant on American Idol and then twist the results of the weekly voting for who gets kicked off, by calling in for that person. This guy has gotten a lot of press this week and despite the fact that the candidate they've chosen as the worst is clearly outmatched as a singer, he's not getting kicked off the show. In fact, this week three singers who are obviously better are all on the hot seat to be removed from the show while he scored enough votes to not even be in contention to be voted off.

A news story I read said that the British edition of American Idol, "Pop Idol," was discontinued when Simon Cowell decided the U.K. public could no longer be trusted to choose the best singer. Is this the end of our series too?

I confess I wouldn't miss the show a bit. Millions and millions of Americans would, I know, disagree.

Memories

Things I want to remember about Dan's and Kerry's visit:

* Seeing them for the first time and thinking they look exactly like they do in their pictures online except that Dan was taller than I thought.

* Watching them meeting our girls for the first time and watching how much our girls enjoyed the books they brought as gifts (books I doubt we can get in the U.S., by the way).

* Showing them the building where our state government is based (is it capital or capitol, darn it) and telling them, we do a few buildings kind of like you do in Europe.

* Eating lunch in the top corner window at Noodles on State Street.

* Laughing, laughing, laughing

* Having really good food and wonderful conversation around the table at Delmonico's.

* Watching Dan drive on the right side of the road and thinking that I don't believe I want to try driving on the wrong side of the road anytime soon.

* Sitting outside on the patio at House on the Rock.

* Asking Kerry if she could stay and be our English nanny.

* Saying goodbye and being sad.

It was fun and now it's over. Onward---

Am I nuts?

Your company calls you in and tells you they're giving you a drug test. They say, have you taken any medications in the last 30 days? You say, yes, I have some kind of prescription at home that I can't remember the name of. They say, here's the cup, go pee.

After you get home, do you make any attempt at all to call your company, who are going to be getting the drug test results soon, and tell them the name(s) of the medications you're taking? After all, you don't want to fail your drug test and possibly be suspended for drug treatment or even fired.

Right? Am I right here?

Or do you do nothing and wait to be suspended when you test positive for a narcotic that, as far as your company knows, you're taking illegally.

Resting easy

Poor Kerry and Dan. Right now, they're on a plane, halfway across the Atlantic, legs aching (especially Dan, who's much taller than he looks on the internet--and no, I'm not sure what I mean by that) and watching the time tick slowly away until they see their kids and their home again. This is after they spent three must-have-been-uncomfortable nights on a much smaller bed than they're used to.

We had a wonderful weekend with them, involving lots of running around and lots of good food and lots and lots of talking. Neither Greg nor I picked up a British accent, though I think we both had times when we found ourselves speaking with a definite English lilt. Both Dan and Kerry were kind enough to make things easy for us, always translating British pounds into dollars and using American words for things instead of expecting us to know what they were talking about if they spoke without thinking.

There was one time yesterday though, when they exchanged a few words in some kind of code that I was completely unable to follow. I'm not talking about the kind of code that married couples use (Happy 5th Anniversary again, Dan and Kerry!). I'm talking about them briefly discussing something and not trying to speak distinctly for their American hosts. The result was some kind of slurring, shorthand, lilting thing that didn't even sound like English.

As I said before, they were wonderful guests, wonderful with our children (and patient), very flexible, quiet, funny, wonderful conversationists, and all-around fun. I'm already wishing they lived closer. Closer than 3000 miles away, anyway!

And now we're getting back to our normal schedule, putting the girls to bed on time instead of 1/2 hour to 45 minutes late, and heading to bed early ourselves tonight to catch up on a little sleep. If we could, we'd loan some of that sleep to the Hughes on their uncomfortable trip home. Safe journey, you two!

English politeness

I don't know what it is. Dan and Kerry are incredibly quiet guests, especially in the morning when you're trying to sleep but you're subconsciously keeping an ear out because it's rude to let your guests be awake for hours before you, time spent without someone offering them juice.

They're quiet, to the point that they put just about every other guest we've had stay at our house (and there have been a pretty good amount) to shame. What's wrong with all of you other people anyway?

Do we need to send you to England for guest lessons?

They're here!

Greg and I travelled to Chicago yesterday and picked up Dan and Kerry at their hotel. Despite the bad weather, we had a wonderful lunch at Cheesecake Factory and then we tackled the long trip back to Wisconsin.

We're very glad to have them here and we hope they're having a good time, but I can't really take the time to type more. You're going to have to take my word for it that they're having a wonderful visit, in fact that this is the best vacation that they've had in their lives.

Life lesson

If your family members aren't far away or asleep, go and give one of them a hug right now. Go ahead, I'll wait.



One of my co-workers, a healthy young man who can't be more than 30, almost died this weekend when his spleen ruptured because of a bout of mono. His heart and breathing stopped, he was med-flighted, they cracked his chest from top to bottom, and he's received 20 units of blood so far. Ironically, I gave blood on Friday, so he actually might have gotten my blood to save his life.

He's stable now and even though I'm not religious, I'm praying for him.


Go hug your family. And donate blood.

Sweet as taffy

All of the first grade classes at Allie's school have been studying whales for some time and their music teacher coordinated that unit with a special musical performance. This morning, me and about 100 other parents, grandparents, siblings, and friends went to school at 10:15 to see all of the first graders sing and recite. Who, I ask you, does not need to leave work or something important to attend something scheduled at 10:15 in the morning. Quite inconvenient, I'm telling you.

Regardless, Allie was stupendous. She looked for me somewhat anxiously, found me with her eyes, did not wave (per stern prior instructions from the teacher), smiled at me when I waved, and followed her teacher's instructions to the letter. She recited her part of the program perfectly and loudly, moved on and off the central stage area swiftly, and then smiled and paid attention as her classmates did their parts. Allie sang enthusiastically and did all the appropriate hand motions. She was amazing, truly. I say that completely without bias, of course.

Truthfully, it was all incredibly sweet and all of the kids did a wonderful job. Made my teeth ache, it was so sweet and precious. And I'm not even going to talk about the memories it brought back.

A very cool day.

The British are coming!

We just heard the above statement on TV and even though they were referring to guest stars on American Idol, it's true for us personally too. Dan and Kerry are visiting us from Yorkshire this week. So far, I've had three people warn me that it's not a good idea to let people into your life that you know only from the internet. I'm sure Dan and Kerry aren't going to murder us in our beds, right? And if they do--it's Dan and Kerry Hughes, from Huddersfield, Yorkshire . . . OR AT LEAST THAT'S WHO THEY TOLD US THEY WERE!

In other matters, Julia has decided that she can get anything she wants, and I do mean anything, just by saying please in a plaintive voice, smiling winningly, widening her eyes, and blinking her eyelashes.

She tried to get fruit snacks last night, five minutes before bed, by trying the above strategy. I started laughing at her and I couldn't stop laughing when she joined me with her giggles. She's had a particularly deep-throated giggle lately that sounds a little like it belongs to a 40-year old female smoker. Nonetheless, we laughed and she continued saying please until I distracted her with something else. You didn't think I was going to actually give them to her, did you? I'm made of stronger stuff than that.

She only gets fruit snacks five minutes before bed on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays.

It's all gone

It took almost three weeks, but our recent stretch of warm weather and some rain has done in the huge amount of snow we had on the ground. There are only small snowbanks here and there and even they look like they'll be leaving us any day now.

On the day we hit almost 70 degrees, Allie wore her (winter) coat as she walked from the bus stop. She had her snow boots on also, but she left off the stocking cap and snow pants. Then she complained about how hot she was.

My tulips are coming up and if the rabbits don't eat them, I'll have pink and yellow blossoms in a little bit. We take pictures of them almost every year because they make me happy, even though they look exactly the same every year. A little later, my dwarf Korean lilac bush will bloom and that makes me even happier.

Spring is coming, it really is!

Don't ask how stupid this is

I listened to Wisconsin Public Radio while on the road today and succeeded in getting myself all riled up. I think that the American military's policy of "Don't ask, don't tell" is absolutely insane.

What they've succeeded in doing with this asinine policy is to discharge thousands of people who only want to serve their country and protect the rights of the weak in the world, oh, and possibly die in that service if necessary.

Got that? They're willing to die if necessary and the U.S. government is telling them they can't serve if they're homosexual. Remember, they may never actually have any same sex relations while they're in the military, but just because they say they're not heterosexual, they're out.

Can I even list the ways this is dumb? Well, for one thing, there was a case just recently when a predatory senior officer drugged and raped several other men. Except maybe he didn't rape them. The victims have said they were raped, but there's an incentive for them to accuse him of that because if the sex was consensual, they're all kicked out of the service.

So what's the truth? The truth is, we need a president who's going to stand up and admit that gays have a perfect right to serve in the military and that homophobic people are the ones who should be discharged, for harboring discriminatory ideas in this day and age. Give me a break.

Naughty again

As Greg said recently in his blog, the girls have decided that our half bath is a fun place to play. The room is pretty small, but it has the usual furnishings and a free-standing cupboard that we use to store extra towels, some reading material, and extra toilet paper. The cabinet becomes a magic house for fairies to live in and a place to hide things and who knows what else as they play.

Tonight, the girls were playing and decided that Simon the cat should join them. I wasn't paying a whole lot of attention, but I could hear that they were laughing and having a wonderful time. Then I heard the sound of a cat meowing rather piteously, so I yelled to the girls to let the cat out of the bathroom. They protested, but let him out.

About 15 minutes later, I told the girls to come out and change into their pajamas. While I was helping to get nighties over their heads, I heard a thumping noise coming from the bathroom. I asked Allie if Rabies was in the bathroom and she said no. I walked towards the bathroom and asked again and she said yes, he is.

I walked into the bathroom and didn't see the cat, and just then Allie came up from behind me and opened the drawer in the bottom of the cabinet. The girls (meaning Allie) had stowed Rabies in this little drawer for god-only-knows how long.

He immediately jumped out, looking as grateful as a cat can look. The girls had to go to bed early, without any book reading or last minute snacks. Not nice!

I'm melting, I'm melting!

If the Wicked Witch of the West was made of the snow in our back yard, she'd be screaming this!

The snow in the front yard isn't melting so quickly, but that's the north side, so it's going to take awhile. If you get out away from the shade of the house, the snowbanks are coming down and down.

This makes Deb very happy.

Allie is worried though. She's heard us say that we hope there's snow on the ground so we can go sledding when Dan and Kerry come to visit. I keep reassuring her that it's going to get cold again and that we'll probably get more snow.

I think she may have had some kind of global warming lecture at school, because she sure doesn't look at me like she believes me. Don't worry, little girl, we live in Wisconsin---we're not done with winter yet.

I'm beginning to believe . . .

that spring is really coming. My favorite time of year is starting to tease us.

The temperature almost hit 50 yesterday and again today and that means that a lot of snow has melted. Not enough, but a lot. You can see grass again, at least on the south sides of buildings.

My sisters were here this weekend and we were out and about quite a bit yesterday, after spending a rainy Friday night inside by a fire that challenged all of my and Greg's keep-the-fire-going skills. Today, with the time change, the morning and early afternoon went very quickly before they headed home.

Allie then asked if she could play outside and I went out with her because Julia didn't want to. And by shoveling until my wrists ached, I reclaimed my side of the driveway. Yes, the driveway that was so narrow because of our blizzard weekend is back to it's normal width. There's something very satisfying about chopping and clearing ice on the driveway. I even took a stab at the huge banks leading up to our mailbox, trying to clear things out better for our mail carrier, but I didn't get very far.

Meanwhile, Allie had a blast playing in the gutter with the girls across the street. Yep, my child in the gutter, playing with the melting water and snow. I don't know exactly what they were up to, but it involved making stews for fairies with snowmelt, leaves, and grass.

The neighbor girls were just wearing sweatshirts, while Allie had on her snowpants and coat and mittens. Her mittens were soon soaked and they haven't begun to dry out yet. The house warmed up because of the sun outside so the furnace hasn't run for several hours. At night, we have an electronic thermostat which turns down automatically, so again the furnace doesn't run. I hope her mittens are dried by morning.

We had a very nice weekend and I hope it's a smooth week for us, and for you too.

Not so interesting confab

(My sisters are here for the weekend. Tell me what to write, Pam)

Talk about Simon catching dust in the sun. Giggle, giggle. Look at him, he's cute.

(How about talking about what it's like to be a guest in our home?)

I'm never a guest in your house. I haven't been here since July.

(You're a bad auntie.)

Oh, yeah, bad auntie. What am I doing today? Stop that, shut it off.

(She's going to spend money on shopping for my kids, FYI.)

We woke up this morning to a thunk and we think it was Rabies falling off the landing upstairs onto the front hall floor.

(Just like Simon a couple of weeks ago. My kittens aren't too smart.)

This is a really nice computer. Is that the newest thing, flat keys and that?

(It's because it's a laptop.)

Look at my bruise, Greg. It's getting better.

(Greg: How did you do that?)

Fell in the parking lot at work.

(Deb: she fell getting into her car, on a little very slippery patch of ice. The bruise is about four inches across. I guess I should get you some breakfast, Pam.)

Dentists are the pits

Well, today I finished the last of five appointments involving my left upper back molar. Yep, five fun-filled visits. I'm not sure it was worth it. It'll be worth the $2200 I spent, right?

I went for my regular checkup in November and found out I had a cavity, my first in a long, long time. I had a filling, which was a complete failure. I had immediate swelling and pain and redness of my face, to the point that I needed an antibiotic. I had to get an emergency root canal, which was more fun than I think I can describe here.

I needed a crown. I went for an emergency appointment with a new dentist (having given up on the old one because I wasn't sure he didn't cause this to some extent). This dentist found there was still decay in the tooth and he drilled away for literally two hours. I went to another appointment where I had to have four impressions taken. The third one was so bad that I gagged and almost threw up.

Today I went to have my permanent crown put on and the dentist discovered he needed to laser away some of my gum or the crown wouldn't fit correctly. Oh, yes. That felt really good, let me tell you, especially since I wasn't frozen up completely.

Gee, I only have 3 1/2 months to wait until I go back for my next regular checkup. Yup, really looking forward to that one.

Sleepytime?

For many years, I've been able to wake up at almost the exact time I wanted to. Since I've had kids, my actual bedside alarm clock has been set to 5:30 (on weekdays). Almost without fail, I wake up on weekdays at 5:28 or 5:29. On the weekends, my internal clock knows it's not a weekday and I can sleep in until one of the kids wakes me.

My clock even works for naps. I took quite a few naps when I was pregnant (both times), and as long I looked at the bedside clock before I closed my eyes, I could wake up in almost exactly one hour (or whatever).

Completely bizarre stuff.

Unfortunately----I have way too much work crap on my mind these days. So for the last few mornings, my body clock has decided that I need to wake up at 4:00 a.m., just so I have plenty of time to lie awake and think of all the overdue stuff I was supposed to do days ago.

Have you ever tried to turn your brain off in this situation? It's impossible. You resolve to just think about breathing.

In, out. In, out. In, out. Did you do that report for the president? Oh, shit. You didn't do it. You are so screwed. Surely they realize how overburdened you are. Of course they do. Oh, crap. No, I'm not going to think about that. In, out. In, out. So screwed, yes you are. And what about that survey that the CEO asked you to complete and get in. You didn't do it, did you. What are you going to say when he asks you about it. Are you just going to lie? You are so screwed. You need to go to sleep. You're going to be so tired tomorrow and you have to get some things actually completed. First thing, you'll do the president's report. Then you'll do the CEOs survey. Before you do anything else. In, out. Oh, shit. You need to remember about the testing. You should have called on that last week and now there's no way that vendor's going to be able to make it in with two days notice. You are so screwed. You need to go to sleep. You're not going to think about any more of this crap. In, out. In, out. In, out.

Oh, look. It's 5:00. You might as well get up. You brought your work computer home for the 400th night, so you can get a start on some stuff right away.

Sigh.

Why did the squirrel cross the road?

I traveled to one of my company's other locations today and saw the strangest thing. I was late, so I was speeding rather dramatically. The speed limit was 55 mph, but I was going at least 65, if not more. I saw a squirrel on the left side of the highway and immediately thought, Boy, I hope he's not going to try to cross in front of me, cause I ain't stopping.

Then I saw another squirrel on the right side of the road. Then another, and another and another and another and another. In the space of a hundred yards, there were nine squirrels on the sides of the road (I counted).

Granted, there's a lot of snow on the ground and the shoulder of the road is clear, but what the heck is up with that?

And Dan, no cracks about the superiority of British squirrels, please!

Spoiling pets

Back in 1989, I got my first cat and immediately started spoiling him. I bought a special videotape just for him called "Video Catnip." Someone had an idea to make a million bucks and videotaped a bunch of birds and squirrels in their backyard for cats to watch. It sounds stupid, but hey, I bought one.

Fast forward 18 years and this week, we pulled out the old videotape and made two new cats very happy. Rabies, especially, is completely fascinated by these birds chirping and jumping around and eating, but he especially likes the squirrels. We're going to have a cool time this summer when we have real squirrels running around the backyard.

The tape comes with a warning that cats may become very excited and so you are to be sure that your TV doesn't have any exposed wiring in back. They also tell you to remove all breakables from near the set, in case your cat completely goes crazy.

You know, I don't knock your hobby!

Bad cat

Last night, I was going to go upstairs to bed. Greg was already upstairs and the girls were long asleep. Greg had brought me a glass of water earlier which I'd only half drunk, so I picked it up as I started walking to the kitchen. I noticed that the glass Greg had been drinking out of was on the other end table, so I picked that up. I walked into the kitchen carrying the glasses without turning on the light, since the light from the living room suffices.

Imagine my surprise when the sweep of my eyes over the counter was met by a pair of eyes. Rabies was sitting with his paws tucked under him on the kitchen counter (next to the knife block if you know our kitchen). He'd obviously been there for some time and as I looked at him he cocked his head to look up at the vent above the stove, which makes noise when it's windy, as it was last night.

Unlike some people (my sister Pam!), we do not allow our cats on the counter and we never have. I picked him up and put him on the floor, upon which he took off running. When I told Greg about it upstairs, he asked why I didn't kick Rabies's butt.

This morning, I was standing at the kitchen peninsula, reading the paper and eating toast, as I do almost every morning. I finished and turned around to head upstairs. And there was Rabies, in the exact same spot doing the exact same thing.

He's a really quiet jumper, because he wasn't there when I got to the kitchen (he was downstairs eating his breakfast, which I'd just given him). This time, he got spanked. Bad kitty!

It's snowing again, by the way.

The devil is in the details

Greg and I are planning a trip later this year, and his parents are planning on joining us. We're excited about the whole idea, except now---it's just the details----

When Greg and I went to England and France two years ago, we only took carry-ons for 10 days of travel. It wasn't easy to pack for that, but we did so much walking, travel on public transportation, and generally, doing without a car that it really, really paid off.

We naturally want to have the same ease of movement this time, but Greg's mom is not thrilled about our restriction on luggage. We're going to have a car this time, but there's still three flights involved plus some public transportation and we're certainly well aware that most rental cars in Europe are quite small. I read some notes one woman wrote about a trip to England where she said that she and her three travel-mates spent every minute in their rental car with extra bags on their laps because things physically could not fit in the trunk (or boot).

We're also having some discussion about the month of travel. I want to go earlier. Airfare, hotels, and the rental car will be cheaper and so will meals (and probably some entertainment). Plus it's a certainty that things will be less crowded. Some others want to go later, because it'll be warmer.

Last night, we checked a temperature chart and the difference is 8 degrees between the two months we're discussing. For 8 degrees and possibly as much as $1000, I can wear a coat. Especially since when Greg and I were in Paris, they had a 90-degree day in May. You just never know what you're going to get.

Things will work out, I'm sure. Everyone will realize that they should fall into line with my ideas and we'll proceed with the planning peacefully. Until we actually leave, and then everyone will acquiesce to my decisions and we'll have a wonderful time.

I can't wait!

Ongoing events

It's snowing again. That's all I'm going to say about that.

Julia has a fever today. She was a little hot last night and this morning, I felt her forehead and knew I wasn't going in to work this morning. Greg suggested taking her to daycare and seeing how things went, but I said uh uh.

Because I work in town, I get the first call when either one of our girls is sick, either at school or daycare. Unless it truly is something that comes on suddenly, I hate that feeling of being a bad parent for trying to keep to my normal schedule.

Within a couple of hours, she was up to 102.6. She seems to have a little sniffles thing coming on, so hopefully that's all this turns out to be.

In the meantime, Allie is getting ready to do a parade around the hallways in school for Chinese New Year. All of the first graders get to participate in carrying a giant dragon around the building this Friday.

It's also "National Read Cat the Hat Day" on Friday, so she's supposed to wear her goofiest hat while her principal reads the story over the loudspeaker. Hundreds of schools nationwide are participating at the same time, 2:36 p.m.

I guess I could try that over the P.A. at work----

Don't I have another topic?

Yesterday, Allie joined an exclusive club at school. In gym class, she spent 10 seconds doing a tripod balance, so she got to join the "Upside Down Club."

What's a tripod, you might ask? It's when you stand on your head and balance your knees on your elbows, which are at a 90-degree angle. I don't think I can describe it any better than that. Maybe we'll try to get a photo at some point.

Speaking of photos, Greg is adding photos from our winter adventure this weekend. Now you'll be able to see what I've been complaining endlessly about. Click here to take a look.

It's never going to end

Since I last posted, I have shoveled twice more.

This morning, I shoveled the driveway of about an inch of snow so the passage of our cars wouldn't leave tire tracks that'll last until April. And this evening, I shoveled the sidewalks again, which were incredibly slippery by the way.

It snowed for about another three hours this afternoon, which is completely disgusting.

At work, we had so much snow drift off the flat roof that all the entry doors on the west side of the building were completely buried. The drifts started at about 10 feet up and extended at least 12 feet or so from the building. Some lucky souls had the fun of digging out narrow little pathways so all the rest of us could get inside to work.

There were a number of semi trailers parked at receiving docks next to the building. Because they were closer to the roof, these trailers actually looked like they got more snow on their roofs than the entry doors got. The roofs on the trailers are damaged from the weight of the snow.

We have a large parking lot full of product and I understand that the entire day was a series of pieces of equipment getting stuck in various places and having to pull each other out. My company owns a front loader, but we only have one and we have five plants in this city alone. We couldn't possibly get everything done that needed to be cleaned up.

Did I mention that we're supposed to get another storm starting Wednesday night that may bring us another 6 inches of snow? I think I'm going to cry.

Aching, aching muscles

Well, it snowed some more. A lot more. About 9 inches more and it got warm, so the snow got very wet and heavy. At 8:45 this morning, the city plows came to our cul de sac and completely filled the end of the driveway. Without exaggeration, the pile was about three feet high and five feet wide. It was chunky and heavier than hell and the banks on either side of the driveway had gotten so high that you had to take a shovelful and throw it up and up.

Into this environment came me and Greg, already sore from yesterday's shoveling. And we shoveled some more, me for another hour and Greg for longer than that. We got so warm that my glasses kept fogging up on my face, even though it was only about 30 degrees out.

It sucked. It really, really sucked. When we came in and sat down, we were hot and sweaty. After we sat for awhile, we tried to get up and began to really feel the pain. By the way, Greg did get the snowblower fixed and he successfully used it for about four paths up and down the driveway this moring before the transmission left us for good. So we had to shovel.

Later in the afternoon, Allie wanted to go out and play in it, so we went out together. Did I mention it kept snowing after that? Yep, we got about another 1/2 inch by afternoon, so I shoveled that. And it's snowing now--we're supposed to get another 2 inches or so tonight.

I took pictures of Allie on top of the snowbank by the mailbox. She's way over the height of the mailbox. I told her I was sure that these were the biggest she'd ever seen snowbanks in her life. They're the biggest that I remember in a long time.

They can start melting any time now!

I'm whipped

It's 11:45 a.m. and I've been ready for a nap since about 9:45. We got socked with snow last night. Majorly socked--at least six or seven inches in the driveway and I swear more than that on the sidewalk, where the plows must have thrown enough from the street, over the grass strip, to make it about eight inches deep.

And our snowblower has been broken since the first winter storm in November. The other snowstorms we've had have all been light, fluffy snow, the kind of snow that you could sweep instead of shovel, if it weren't more than a couple of inches deep.

This was wet, heavy snow that you had to pick up in shovelfuls. Hundreds and hundreds of tiny little shovelfuls. Hundreds and hundreds of back breaking, arms hurting, stopping because you're gasping for breath shovelfuls.

And it's not over. It's going to start again late this afternoon and it's going to snow, and snow, and snow. Then snow some more, until we're supposed to get up to maybe 11 inches more.

I really don't think either Greg or I have it in us to shovel 11 inches more.

Greg is going to try fix the snowblower again in a little while. We're planning to buy a new one this spring but we have to get to spring first. I really, really hope he's successful.

Please pray for us.

What are you worth?

I'm working on getting someone promoted right now, trying to get my company to pay her what she's worth.

Do you think you're paid what you're worth? I don't want to know how much you actually make, just if you think that you're worth more or if your pay is about right. I don't know that anyone would say that they're overpaid.

As for me, I think I'm paid about the right amount. I work really hard, so I don't think I'd like it if I figured out how many hours I actually put in. Also, my boss has this philosophy I don't particularly care for, that managers shouldn't submit requests for reimbursement of mileage. That philosophy costs me at least $50 every week, which does add up.

But, I make a lot more money than I did when I started with this company, so I'm OK for right now.

How about you?

Still adjusting

You know, I didn't say cats were smart. Though I do think there are cats that are smarter than some dogs.

We have a two-story entryway, with some windows high up, stairs on one side, and the railing up above where the upstairs hallway starts. Simon decided awhile ago that he liked to walk up the stairs on the wrong side of the railing, by clinging to the carpeting edge. I tried not to have this give me a heart attack.

Last night, Simon was laying (lying, whatever!) in the hallway upstairs, with his head, shoulders, and front paws through the railing and hanging into thin air. I think he was looking down below at his brother.

It was the girls's bedtime and I went into Julia's room to tuck her in while Allie looked over the railing to see what Simon was looking at. The next thing we all heard was a loud thud, and Allie screaming that Simon fell.

Yep, the inevitable happened. We think he twisted around, tried to adjust himself with his non-existent claws, and slipped. Either that, or Allie pushed him. I prefer to believe the former.

Regardless, he fell a good 10 feet and landed on his side (not his feet) on the hard vinyl-covered floor. He missed the front hall carpet, which I suppose would have been softer by a miniscule amount, by about two feet. He immediately ran into the dining room.

Much knashing of teeth followed, as we debated whether he was hurt and if he needed to be checked out by our vet. He's acting OK, so we just watched him carefully. Today, we know he must be sore. We still had a little painkiller left from the declawing last week, so we gave him some of that this morning.

Rabies used up one of his nine lives with us when he hid for 8 1/2 hours on his first day here, giving us fits. Simon has now used up one of his nine lives. It's a good thing they're still kittens--but they're making me feel older by the day.

Ridiculous

I am doing three full-time jobs right now at work, plus part of a fourth. It's stupid. It's absolutely retarded.

I'm doing my own director job, pretty half-assed, actually. I'm doing a manager job while I try to hire a replacement (I'm interviewing my second candidate tomorrow). I'm doing one big task of an entry-level job because I can't fill the position yet (because we don't need someone to do all of the tasks right now). And for the next week, I'm doing an administrator job while someone is unexpectedly gone.

I seriously need to take some action and I know it. I need to get someone else to do the one big task (maybe I'll work on training someone for that tomorrow). I need to finish interviewing for the manager job--I'm working on that one. And in a week, the administrator will be back, I pray.

Then can I have my life back, please!

Oh my aching neck, I'm anticipating

We did it. This morning, our whole family went out to breakfast and then to the hardware store. And we bought paint. Then we came home and emptied the dining room, taped the molding, and painted the entire room is just a little over two hours.

Another room in my house isn't white any more! It's a brownish tan color that we've decided we really like. In the daytime, the big window in the room makes the color look not too dark, and at night it's kind of intimate. I'm pretty happy, despite the fact that my neck is likely going to quite sore tomorrow because I painted all of the edge around the ceiling and I am not a tall person.

The kittens are doing quite well, despite Simon's tendency to want to stick his nose into the gallon of paint today. We gave them some medication this morning, but they've been jumping and playing a little, so I think they're recovering well.

Allie was our official helper today, taking off and replacing the plates on the light switch and electrical outlets, among other assistance. Daddy warned her that getting a screwdriver into an outlet would result in her death, but she did just fine. Julia mostly stayed out of the way, though she did manage to get paint from somewhere onto her knee.

All in all, a little more productive Saturday for the Lee family than usual.

Raining cats and dogs

I am not a dog person. My family never owned a dog when I was a kid, so I've never gotten the hang of it. I'm used to standoffish cats, who are really showing they love and trust you when they come over and sit on your lap. I'm slightly contemptuous about the fact that dogs will basically slobber affection on just about anyone who has a dog biscuit.

Greg loves cats, but he has very fond memories of a black lab his family had when he was a kid, as well as other earlier dogs. I don't know if we'll ever get a dog, but if we do it'll definitely be Greg's dog.

In the meantime, we have our two new kitties, who returned to us today after a night away at the vet. Yesterday was their mutilation (declawing). They seem to be doing very well, but they're on drugs, so what can you expect. The vet gave us enough pain medication to last three days or so, if we stick to the recommended dosage. This is also assuming that Greg doesn't decide to try some of it. You think I'm kidding, but Greg has eaten various kinds of pet food, so I wouldn't be at all surprised.

A few years ago, the next door neighbors that we really liked moved away to the country and we got new neighbors. These neighbors have two medium size dogs who are outside in the backyard quite frequently since the neighbors don't ever walk them. They have an invisible fence, so the dogs never trespass into our yard, which is good since they probably have quite a bit of poop saved up for those visits to their backyard.

The new neighbors moved in during winter, so we didn't really get to know them or their dogs until several months later (we do live in Wisconsin, you know). I still remember that first warm spring night when we were able to sleep with the windows open to the night air. Greg and I were sound asleep at maybe 5:00 or 5:30 a.m. on that Saturday morning when we were very rudely awakened from sound sleep by loud barking that sounded like it was in our bedroom.

Makes ya jump, you know. Yes, it turns out that the dogs were taking their morning constitutionals around their backyard and our bedroom is closest to that yard. The dogs look across our yard to the busy street beyond and whenever someone walks by with their dog, which happens every, oh, six minutes or so, the neighbor dogs bark. Loudly. Early in the morning until late at night.

In fact, they barked just a moment ago, which prompted me to include them in this post. I like to sleep. Some morning, when Greg isn't around to stop me, I might just take his gopher-killing BB rifle and have myself a little hunt out the window of our bedroom on those noisy critters. I'll bet if I only pumped the gun two or four times, the BB wouldn't even break the dogs' skin. Just scare the crap out of them and make them think twice before they barked again. Hmmmm.

Paint me

I am a coward. Yes, it's true, I'm afraid of color, at least on walls.

Greg and I have lived in our house for 8 years now. It was new when we moved in, so every room was white. We haven't made much progress in changing that.

We painted Allie's room yellow before she was born and it's still yellow, though I'm sure she'd love it if we agreed to paint it pink (ugh). We painted Julia's room a fern green before she was born. She'd probably like purple now (double ugh). And after I mentioned to Greg that I thought a photo in a magazine was cool, he surprised me by painting our downstairs half bath a beautiful bright blue color.

That's it. All the other rooms in the house are still white. Oh, we've talked about painting the dining room a darkish tan color. We really need to paint the kitchen and the front entryway (which is open to the stairs up and the upstairs hallway) and which continues through to the living room and downstairs hallway. Both the bathroom that the girls use and our bathroom also really need to be painted.

After the disaster of what my workplace used to look like, I'm afraid of even choosing a color. Plus I'm lazy. I don't mind painting at all when I'm doing it, in fact I helped quite a bit with the painting at work, but somehow Greg and I never get around to changing anything at home.

Do any of you have a paintbrush that'll travel?

Thrice a bridesmaid . . . no wait, four times

I stood up in three weddings before I was married and one afterwards. The first wedding was my sister Pam's, and I think we should have known things weren't going to work out 12 years later based on the dresses we wore. We wore pastel purple dresses with trains and ruffles on the back of the skirt. We also wore hats, little round yamukah-type things on the top of our heads that had little bits of fishnet attached. Yes, it was the 80s.

The second wedding I stood up in was my friend Leanne's. She and Brian are still together 20 years later, despite the mint green tea-length lace-covered bridesmaid dresses we wore. I guess that the ugliness (by today's eyes) of the dresses isn't really an indicator of the couple's future. I'm not really eager to dig out any photos of that wedding, however.

The third wedding I stood up in was my friend Donna's. Until my own wedding, that was the most fun I'd ever had at a wedding. We bridesmaids wore lace-covered deep purple dresses that had short hems in the front tapering to longer hems in the back. Yes, it was transitioning to the 90s. I think the bouquets we carried had black flowers, which again should have been an omen of the marriage's eventual success.

Then I got married. I'm still in love with my wedding dress, but this was towards the end of the 90s, so things had tamed down a little fashion-wise.

Lastly, in 2003, I stood up in my sister Claudette's wedding. We wore deep blue long dresses, pretty similar to the outstanding bridesmaids dresses I chose for my attendants.

I still have all of the dresses and I anticipate that one day, my girls will wear them to play, like I did my mom's bridesmaids dresses long, long ago. Do you have any wedding fashion memories to share?

Ten years and counting

More than 10 years ago, I went shopping for some things for my trousseau. Greg and I were about to get married and I wanted some new clothes for our honeymoon. Since we were headed to San Francisco, my shopping included a couple of sweaters.

In one of Greg's favorite pictures from that trip, I'm wearing a red wool cardigan sweater. I still have it. It's my wear-around-the-house-almost-the-entire-winter sweater. If you're family and you've been to my house in the last seven or so years, you've seen it.

Why wouldn't you have seen it for the first three years of our marriage? Because I probably mostly wore it to work. Why don't I wear it to work any more? Because it has an absolutely huge hole in one elbow.

The hole in the elbow drives Greg nuts. Tonight again, he asked it he could patch it or try to sew it together or something (that whole Renaissance man thing going on again--see my birthday message from last September 13). I told him no, because either would change the way the sweater feels.

Because it's wool, I never wear it without another shirt beneath, so it's not like I get a draft on my elbow or something. It has wonderful memories attached to it. So yes, I can afford a new sweater to wear around the house in the winter. Am I going to get a new one? Nope.

It's Saturday, and we got hooked on a new show

Most Americans are probably somewhat familiar with a show called Most Extreme Elimination on Spike TV. It was imported from Japan. The original name of the Japanese show was Takeshi's Castle, I believe, and it features ordinary Japanese people humiliating themselves, often while wearing bizarre costumes, as they attempted to complete an difficult obstacle course of stunts. That show was funny, if sometimes painful to watch. People really cracked their faces, legs, and other body parts sometimes, before they fell into pools of nasty-looking muddy water.

At some point, someone must have decided that it might be interesting to have the same basic premise but let genuine athletes give an obstacle course a try. Thus the show we saw this morning, which was called Ninja Warrior. It's Japanese name was Sasuke. This was a great show!

One hundred people of various backgrounds attempted to complete Stage One without falling into the same type of muddy pools of water. The Stage One obstacles included a series of slanted blocks that you had to bounce between, a large log bouncing down a slanted channel that you had to grasp with arms and legs and roll along with, a turning screw like thing that you had to run across, an obstacle where you had to use a rope to jump out over water and then swing back to land underneath the first platform, a vertical trampoline used to body-bounce from one ramp to another, a cargo net obstacle hanging over a pool of water that you had to be careful not to touch, a semi-circle ramp that you had to run up and climb over, and a rope swing to a large wall that had to be overcome. At the top, if you made it, you hit a button. The contestants had 100 seconds.

In the first episode that we watched, seven men made it through the first stage, including a firefighter, a medical worker, a gas station attendant (wearing his uniform, if you can believe that), and an army officer. Those men went on to other stages, most of which involved obstacles requiring extensive hanging from their hands.

It was heartbreaking to see these guys, who do all the competition over a one or two day period, fall in the water because their arms can't take anymore. The announcers would go on about how the lactic acid must really be building up in their muscles by now and then the men would fall. In another episode, 16 men made it through the first stage. Eight made it through the second set of different obstacles, and all eight failed in the third stage.

There has only been one man in the history of the show who made it through the fourth stage (that's in 15 years--or maybe 15 cycles, it wasn't clear). He won 2 million yen, or about $17,000. And a hell of a lot of bragging rights. I think we watched the show for at least two hours.

It must be Saturday.

Salty or sweet

I love popcorn, and potato chips, and Doritos, Fritos, and Tostitos.

I love chocolate and gumdrops (Dots, cherry coins) and Sweet-tarts.

Why is it that sometimes when I'm looking for a snack, only something sweet will do, and at other times, only something crunchy. I understand that for me it's more common to look for something salty and women for something sweet. Does that hold true for you?

Responsibilities

Tonight when I got home, Allie greeted me at the door with this sentence. "Mom! We have 8 things to do tonight!" She started reciting them as she stood in the doorway from the garage to the house, ignoring the fact that it's still only 10 degrees out and Julia was waiting behind her to hug me hello too.

Tonight, we were supposed to eat dinner, get Allie's homework done, finish decorating her Valentine's Day card box for school, do her valentines for all of her classmates, give her and her sister a bath, read her library books, study the words for her spelling test tomorrow, and count out 100 pennies for the math she's going to do that's associated with the 100th day of school.

We got six done. I guess she's going to have to rely on the same method her parents used in college for the spelling test--cramming!

Allie's birth story

I'm shamelessly stealing this blog idea from other websites today, but since Allie just had a birthday last week, it's timely. Warning: Long

When I was pregnant with Allie, Y2K was still a real fear. I hoped that I wouldn't go into labor early, because everyone was saying that hospitals would be full of equipment that wouldn't work as of January 1, 2000. That date came and went because I wasn't actually due until early February (the 12th, I think? I can't believe that I can't remember). The last four weeks of my pregnancy, I had some pretty severe leg swelling. My legs were huge, red and tight and they hurt all the time, no matter if I had them up or down or sideways or if I soaked them or anything. My doctor had no advice at all. I asked if I could take Tylenol and they said they'd never heard of anyone with legs that looked like mine being helped by Tylenol, but if I wanted to try it, go ahead. It didn't help at all. Nice to know your doctor knows what they're talking about, right. Huh.

Because my legs were so bad, my doctor said when I got to 38 weeks, we could schedule an induction. Greg and I were fine with that, and the day that made sense was Super Bowl Sunday. My doctor was on call, so I'd get her to deliver my baby instead of one of her partners. We were supposed to call about 5:30 a.m. on Sunday, January 30 to see if they had a birthing suite available and if so, we were supposed to head into town. The drive takes about 25 minutes.

I was awake early and so was Greg. Knowing your going to become a family that day will do that to you. It was snowing pretty heavily (and it snowed all day), so when we found out a birthing suite was open, we started out driving pretty cautiously into Madison. We had done this drive lots of times before, for the Confident Homecoming series of childbirth/childcare classes we'd taken at the hospital. Despite that, Greg was so nervous that he missed our exit.

We got to the hospital and walked in from the parking garage. We got a great parking space, right by the door. Greg wanted to get me a wheelchair because of my legs but I said I'd walk. After all, I wasn't in labor. People smiled at us on the way in.

We got checked into our suite and I changed into the infamous hospital gown, which actually had a back. My room was really nice, but I knew I wasn't going to be laboring in the tub or walking in the halls because of my legs, so all I really needed was the bed. After some preliminaries, the nurses started me on Pitocin. It was about 8:00. My doctor stopped by at some point, and eventually the nurses discovered that the Pitocin needle had fallen from the IV attached to my arm when I braced on that arm, so I wasn't getting any medication for probably an hour. That was annoying.

I had some contractions, but nothing that made me catch my breath. Greg and I read the paper, tried to watch the DVDs of "Chef" that he'd brought along, watched other TV, and were pretty bored. Nonetheless, things did progress. I'd been dilated to about 3 cm for two weeks already, so I got to 4-5 cm pretty rapidly. At noon, my doctor returned and asked if I wanted my water broken to speed things up. I said sure! That felt weird, but it did succeed in making things move along and it didn't hurt.

By 2 p.m., I was having some pretty dramatic contractions. I am not a very tough person, so I asked for Numorphin, a drug that was supposed to take the edge off the contractions. Instead, it made me sleepy between contractions and didn't do crap for the contractions. That injection lasted about an hour and when it wore off, I asked for and got an epidural.

I loved that epidural. It was amazing. Greg actually got pretty upset when I was first getting it, because the hospital let a resident anethesiologist try to do it first and they poked, according to Greg, in five different places trying to get the needle placed. I didn't care a whole lot. Needles don't bother me and I was busy trying to breathe through contractions at the time. And when it kicked in--heaven. Being a wimp, I always wonder when I hear stories of moms who give birth without drugs. You know, the prize is the same for them as it was for me at the end, and I got to enjoy the process a whole lot more.

The nurses recommended that I try to get some sleep and I think Greg and I both dozed a little. Things continued to move along and by 6 p.m., they said I could try to push. This is when things started to go bad. Pushing made my blood pressure drop, which meant that after every episode of pushing, I got nauseous and threw up. Pushing also made Allie's heart rate go up, which was a little worrisome. I pushed and threw up, pushed and threw up, pushed and retched helplessly. It was pretty awful. This went on for three hours.

Yep, you read that correctly, three hours. I got desperately thirsty but I wasn't allowed to drink anything because of my retching. Eventually, my doctor checked me and determined that Allie's head was turned a little bit and therefore stuck. She stuck her entire hand inside me, pushed Allie's head back up a little, and rotated it to the correct position. Then they told me to push some more. All righty.

So I pushed some more and retched some more, for about another half hour. Nothing was happening. My doctor came back and said that I hadn't been able to push Allie's head down even as far as it had been before, so it was time to give me some help. She and the resident got out the suction cup thingy, and they both proceeded to spend about half an hour trying to get the suction cup affixed, having me push, and then flying backwards when the cup wouldn't stay on Allie's head. They'd told us before they started that it could be a pretty funny process and it was kind of, but not really, because Allie's heart rate was still elevated enough that they brought in the special care nursery people with an incubator, ready to whisk her away if I actually succeeded in getting her out.

I did not succeed in getting her out, so about 10 p.m., my doctor said they wanted to do a c-section. I had been very calm through the whole process. Greg said later that he completely expected me to scream at him throughout and that just never happened. By the time the c-section was proposed, I was ready to just have this baby, so I calmly said OK, when are we doing this.

Allie was born at 10:27 p.m. on Sunday, January 30, 2000. She was pink and fine, unlike her mother who threw up again on the operating table. I saw her and then I don't remember a whole lot until I was being cooked like a french fry under two heat lamps but still shivering in recovery. And I remember the nurses pushing me to try to nurse, when I still couldn't move my arms or legs. Greg was sitting in a rocking chair next to me, holding Allie. I think he held her for the first hour or more of her life. He said later that no one told him he could put her down.

We got back to my room (the discount floor now, since I was just a recovering c-section surgery patient now instead of a birthing suite mom) by maybe 1 a.m.ish? I remember that they wouldn't let us get any sleep that first night. The nurses continually checked if I was having pain (that was nice), how much I was bleeding, what my vitals were, how the baby was, and on and on. By morning, we were exhausted.

And ecstatic. I couldn't wait for family to arrive to meet our beautiful Alexandra Grace. She's still beautiful, still our Alexandra, but now she's 7. Now you know how it was when you were born. Happy birthday again, sweetie!

I just don't know

OK, here's a question to consider. Would you stay with your spouse if he or she had a sex change operation?

Earlier, I was watching part of one of my favorite shows, "Little People, Big World," which is about a husband and wife who are little people. They have four kids, three of whom are average size (don't say "normal" size) and one of whom is also a dwarf. The word "midget," by the way, is frowned upon.

Tonight, that show was followed by another show about a family who are all dwarves, and then this show came on, which is called, "My Unique Family." I've seen the previews for this show, which highlight a family that is raising their children as Wiccans and another where the family members have hand deformities.

For some reason, they didn't preview this episode, in which a father of two children has decided to change gender. Her wife, Chris, now talks about her partner, who used to be Jeff and is now Jennifer. Jennifer has been taking female hormones for several years and even though it's only 15 minutes into the episode, Jennifer has already shared that soon she's going to have her first genital surgery, to have her testicles removed. She says she'll be able to decrease the amount of hormones she's taking, which seems healthier. Well, I guess that's a good thing, right?

The big question for these two, apparently, is how the former wife is adjusting to being married to someone who has become a woman during their relationship.

I love Gregory, but this is an unbelievably big question. I have no fears that I'm going to have to deal with this situation, of course. But what would you do?

Naughtiness, Lee style

Allie got many new things for her birthday, including a diary that opens with a spoken password. It's not too discriminating. I don't think I'm giving away too much if I say that Allie's magic word is "flower." You can get the book to open, though, by saying "flicker," "flores," "fleur," and a lot of other "f" words. So it's actually open almost all of the time. It has a spoken greeting and farewell, and Allie says "It speaks British!" because the manufacturer obviously thought little girls would think it more magical if the voice didn't speak with a southern drawl or a midwestern nasal tone.

Tonight, Allie was at the kitchen table doing one of her new art projects and Julia grabbed the open diary and started to look at it. Of course, Allie couldn't have that, so she came over, grabbed it away, and closed the book. Julia immediately protested and I told Julia that it was Allie's book, so she had to give it up.

This did not go over well with Julia, of course, and before I could tell Allie that it would be nice if she would share, Julia threw a gift bag at her in a fit of pique. I told Julia to cut it out and she said, "No!" I said, "Julia!" in a warning voice, and told her she needed to say she was sorry. She said, "No!" again and I got in her face and told her she needed to be nice or she was getting a timeout.

She said, "Hmph!" in a completely unrepentent voice and I told her that was it, she was getting a timeout. We do those (pretty infrequently, actually) on the lowest step of our staircase in the front hall. I put her out there, got in her face again, and told her I wanted her to think about how naughty she was being or she was going to go to bed immediately. She said, "Hmph" again and that was it for Greg.

He came out of the living room, grabbed her, and hauled her up to her room. She spent the next 7 or 8 minutes alone in her room, screaming for us. This is not actually a very bad punishment because, firstly, the light was on. Secondly, after we close the door, she obviously can get off the bed. Next, her room is loaded with toys of every description, as well as various comfort items. Usually, she stops crying almost immediately, but I think she realized that Daddy was really mad.

All was forgotten in about 10 minutes and life returned to normal. Dispute over until, oh, 30 minutes from now.

How can it be?

How can the party be over already. It just started!

Allie opened a large pile of presents, Julia opened the two little gifts that Aunties Cat and Pam were kind enough to bring for her, we played homemade Pictionary until no one wanted to play anymore, we ate a great luncheon (it was too much food to call it just lunch), we cleaned up, we played more Pictionary, Julia took a nap, we played Allie's Uno Assault, we did massive hits on the pinata until it finally broke, and they were gone.

Last year, we got a pull-string pinata for Allie's birthday, which was pretty fun. This year, we got what we thought was a traditional pinata, something that would break in maybe ten hits. Uh uh. This thing was a solid, corrugated cardboard tube that Allie couldn't even make a dent in. She took off her blindfold since we didn't want her to give herself a rotator cuff tear from the repetitive motion, but still nothing was happening.

Finally, Greg got the thing softened up and Allie broke it open a little. Unfortunately, by then the contents were seriously shredded. Many of the little plastic toys inside were cracked or broken and a lot of the candy was also in tiny little pieces. So much for that.

And now Allie's birthday is officially over. Only five months and 26 days to wait until Julia's birthday!

Party time!

It's Allie's birthday party this weekend, though it's going to seem a little bit like Thanksgiving. Greg and I have decided that we really need the room in the freezer that's taken up by the turkey my company gave me for Christmas, so tomorrow we're having turkey, mashed potatoes, baked beans, etc.

Greg says it's not the same meal as Thanksgiving because we're not having carrots. I suppose that's a good point, because I haven't been baking any pumpkin pie either.

So Grandma, Grandpa, and Auntie Cat are here and tomorrow is the Dog theme party. We have a dog centerpiece, dog bone confetti, dog plates, dog cups, and a multitude of presents. She is going to be even more spoiled than usual tomorrow.

My dad made the comment that the weather is the exact opposite of Julia's birthday, which is exactly six months from Allie's. Last July, it was 95 degrees out, and this weekend it's supposed to be -5.

Yes, folks, that's a 100 degree difference in temperature. I think I'd rather have the cold weather, personally. You can always bundle up. Yes, I'm rationalizing.

Kitty love and future plans

It's pretty much impossible these days to adopt a cat without getting the "declawing" lecture. That's right, no one wants you to declaw a cat anymore. You get the story of how it's mutilation and major surgery. You're supposed to live with ruined furniture and accidental scratches to your person (some pretty nasty) and holes in your sweaters and clothing. Live with it for, say, 15 years.

Well, you know, we're not planning to do that. Live with ruined furniture, scratches to our unknowing daughters, and holes in clothing, I mean. We're planning on getting the kittens declawed shortly, about the time they turn six months old.

We bought them scratching boxes that they're enjoying, but almost every night, Simon comes and jumps up on our bed to get some love. I don't pet kitties in the middle of the night (why set them up with that expectation, are you nuts?). So Simon crawls under the covers between me and Greg and settles down by my knee. He then proceeds to knead with his front paws, sending needle sharp little claws into me while purring madly.

And then I move my knee away, dig him out from below the covers, and set him or push him onto the floor. I'm nice, too, about doing that--compared to Greg who has been known to throw cats away from him. Won't it be nicer for everyone involved for the cats to be loved more thoroughly?

After the whole mutilation thing is over, I mean.

M*A*S*H

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?

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!

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.

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????