Snow Day

If you ask me, snow days seem a lot colder as an adult! Or maybe it's just the lack of adrenaline that comes from knowing you get to miss school! Either way, it snowed like crazy today.. and, while I didn't get a full snow day from work, we did get to close up about 1:00.

It's always fun to start a weekend early! In fact, it may be the first snow day I've gotten since living in Arkansas. Growing up in Illinois, we got our fair share. Of course, we paid for it by having to go to school in June. However, the snow days up there were always merited... usually whiteout conditions or wind chills way, way below zero. To me, that's a snow day. 

Snow days as I remember them. The masked crusader is my little sister.

Taken around 1987 when we lived in Chicago.

I sometimes laugh at what constitutes a snow day down here. However, today would certainly qualify. It sleeted all morning and changed to snow around lunch. The forecast said between 2 and 8 inches. I remember thinking "Meh! It will probably just be another dusting." Considering we got about 3 inches in about 3 hours, perhaps they weren't exaggerating!

So, how did I spend my snow day? First, I shot a few photos...

 

 The wind kicked up quite a bit by mid-afternoon... at times it was big, fluffy flakes. Other times were a mix of sleet and snow.

  

Add "Bonsai tree" to the things I am not responsible enough to own

  

Ice on the trees at my parents' house (later in the evening). 

Then a few videos... (Please excuse the narration on the first one. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Turns out I sound like a Fraggle.)



(By the way, that's not some sort of bionic pumpkin on my porch! More like Styrofoam Halloween decor that I still haven't put away.)

Then I had a bowl of my grandma's chili... a snow day requirement!

Now, I'm about to go make some hot chocolate and wrap up in my Snuggie! Tomorrow, the temp won't get much above freezing, so the snow will stick around. Without the benefit of snow removal equipment here, the roads will still be slick and everyone will stay home and attempt to build a snowman  Who knows, maybe I'll even see another idiot driving a 4 wheeler down the road with a child on a sled in tow behind him. Seriously. 

So, here's to staying warm (and alive, 4 Wheeler Guy) and the power staying on. And Mother Nature, while I appreciated the snow day today, that'll do for this year. Please send Spring along. Thanks!!

Project 365: Week 4

Whew!! It was a very disjointed week with a whirlwind trip to my hometown in Illinois for my great-grandmother's funeral. Nothing like spending 24 out of 60 hours in a van! As a result, I think I have the right days on these pictures... but all my days have kind of run together, so I'm not positive.

Jan. 23rd

 

I got a new box of crayons. I was excited. I like to color. Judge all you want.

Jan. 24th  

David: Did you cover Bruiser up?

Me: No...

We had company last weekend and the air mattress was still up in the office. I guess Bruiser tucked himself in for a nap while I was on the computer.

Jan. 25th 

 It was insanely windy. Every time we opened the door at the office, the ceiling tiles lifted up.

 
 

We made our trip to IL overnight so MJ would sleep. It mostly worked. However, she had a few screaming fits. I cured one of them with some headphones and some Josh Groban.

There is an additional Monday photo but it falls in the "somewhat inappropriate" category, so click here if you want to see it. And no, David, I didn't buy any. (Yes, he asked.)

Jan. 26th

 

One perk of being in IL is Angelo's Pizza. It's seriously the best in the world. Trust me, I ate more pizza that I can tell you while in Italy just to see if I could find anything better than Angelo's. I did not. Pictured here is their spaghetti pizza. If you've never tried it, you might think it sounds gross. If you have tried it, you know it becomes part of your soul!! Mmmm!!!

  Jan. 27th

My dad doesn't often agree to be in photos, so I better post them when I can, right? Here he is with MJ bundled up in her new bear snowsuit.

Maybe a little odd... but I really do think the cemetery where most of my dad's family is is very serene. That's the partially frozen river in the background. You also can't tell, but it was snowing heavily as we laid my great-grandma to rest.

Jan. 28th

In response to an email letting this guy know I was out of town due to a death in the family and would get back to him when I returned...

Thank you for your condolences. Believe me, no one is sorrier to hear about my death than me...

Also, thank you for the laugh. I love a good misuse of words!

Jan. 29th

Is it that time again already? Arkansas' annual ice storm.

I enjoyed the "frame" the ice made when I rolled down my car window.

To reward me for coming into work, the ice storm overlords took down two of the three strings of flags the Chinese place used in an effort to transform my office plaza from "decent" to "completely tacky".

(Yes, I came to work even though I don't think anyone else in the company did. No, not to prove some sort of point that Northerners know how to drive in this. I only came because I've been out since Monday. I'm leaving ASAP.)

And thus we conclude another week. I hope everyone else's was a little less chaotic than mine. It's okay though... there's always next week... 

My great-grandma Winnie

If you ask me, 103 years of life is something to celebrate, even when it comes to an end. My great-grandmother, Winnie, passed away this weekend. Of course, I'm saddened by her passing, but it's hard to be too sad when you really stop and think about how long 103 years is. It seemed fitting to post something today honoring her century-plus of life.

First, I should mention that I was blessed to come from a "young" family. My parents, grandparents and beyond all had families fairly young, which meant that I got to know family members that many other people normally don't. For example, I met and have memories of all four of my great-grandmothers. Two of the four passed away when I was young, but the other two were very much a part of my childhood. Granny, my mother's grandmother, passed away when I was 18. In fact, I didn't lose a grandparent until I was well into my 20s. (My dad's father died when I was around 23 or 24 but I didn't know him very well. My dad's mother died a couple of years ago.)  Then there was Winnie...

I apologize for the low quality of the picture. It was taken a few years ago before Grandma Carolyn died. (She's seated on the left.) Winnie (seated in the blue chair) is a little bruised up in this picture following a fall, but generally well. In fact, aside from a few falls now and then, she had very few of the problems you would expect as a person aged. She lived in her own apartment until she was 97 or 98. At that point, she got a bad bout of shingles and went to a nursing home to recover. Combined with the occassional fall, the family decided it would be best if she stay there. A devout Catholic, she liked that the nursing home was run by a Catholic organization and regularly had Mass and visits from the priest. It is probably the cleanest facility I've visited and the staff always seemed very nice and responsible. She was fairly happy there, all things considered. I mean, who really wants to live in a nursing home? But she didn't seem too bothered by it. She made a lot of friends and the staff loved her.

I have so many memories of her... homemade bread... cookies that she always put black walnuts in (ick!)... this awesome kitchen table she had (the "retro" style with the chrome trim... only it wasn't "retro", it was authentic. I wish I had that table!)... her cats... the upstairs bedroom I was certain was haunted... how she always had jelly beans or gumdrops in a dish... how she didn't want to be called "Mom" or "Grandma", just Winnie... how she was past 100 years old and referring to a person in her 80s as "this sweet old lady down the hall"... or that he was so proud I married a police officer (her husband was a police officer)... and so many more.

It's weird to think that I only have 30 years worth of memories. She was creating memories for 73 years before I ever met her. So, of course, that made me think of all the things that changed in her lifetime.

When she was born in 1906, Theodore Roosevelt was President. There were only 45 states for him to oversee. Winnie's mother couldn't have voted for him because women didn't yet have that right. Had her father voted, he would have had to travel on foot or by horse. The car had been invented but no one could afford it yet. The Model T wouldn't come along for another 2 years. That same year, the Cubs lost the World Series to the White Sox. There was no TV or radio yet to listen to the game. (Yet, I have to wonder if her family had been pulling for the Cubs, since 103 years later, we're still a Cubs family!)

Through the years, she would hear of the Titanic sinking, the Depression, too many wars, people on the moon, and technology as we know it going from basically non-existent to me showing her pictures on my iPhone. With that many years under your belt, of course she has had her share of heartbreak too. She's buried a husband, siblings, 3 of her 4 children and 1 grandchild. However, if she were here, I'm sure she'd much rather talk about the good than the bad. And what about the unlikely? This past summer when my niece was born, Winnie became a great-great-grandmother. (She was able to see MJ twice. I will try to update this post later with a picture of them together.) 

Can you even imagine?! On some abstract, theoretical level, I think I can... but really, no, I can't even begin to imagine.

It goes without saying that I'm thankful for the years I had with her... the years she had, period. She was sweet and kind and exactly how you think a great-grandmother should be. I have reminders of her in various antiques and heirlooms. (She didn't believe in "waiting until she died" to share her things. Anytime any of us admired something of hers, it wasn't uncommon for it to soon be given to us.) But, more valuable that any of those items, of course, are the memories.

So, am I sad? Sure. Who wouldn't be?  I'm sad for my dad, who has now lost basically all of his "close" relatives. I'm sad for her other grandchildren who have also lost their mothers but always took comfort in still having their grandmother. I'm sad I won't get to see her again or introduce her to my children, should I have any in the future. But I'm not really sad for her. She lived a full, wonderful life that came to a relatively peaceful conclusion.

Tonight, we'll be driving up to Illinois. Wednesday, we'll lay her to some much-deserved rest at a place she and her husband picked out many, many years ago. And, as cemeteries go, it's a beautiful setting... a hillside overlooking the river, where eagles fly overhead. It has a certain grace to it... just like Winnie.

Project 365: Week 3

Three weeks! This may be the longest I've ever kept a resolution. Combine that with the fact that I've lost a couple of pounds and it's like I'm a whole new person. Okay, that's a bit of a stretch...

In what I think will be a common occurrence, I had trouble a few days deciding which pictures to use, so there are some doubled-up days.

Jan. 16th

Aunt M, cousin J and Mama (my grandma)

My aunt and cousin were visiting from out of state. J is showing off my grandpa's stylish over-the-glasses shades. Mama is showing that you might have to grow old but you don't have to grow up!

Bruiser spent Saturday in bed recovering from an illness.

Jan. 17th

David makes the best cookies in the world. Seriously. It's bizarre how good they are. Though it's not as bizarre as his "licking the spoon" face.

(You can also catch a glimpse of my kitchen before we start the makeover. Ick.)

  Jan. 18th

On Aunt M's last night in town, Mama made fried potatoes. I can sum up her fried potatoes in three words: To. Die. For.

Jan. 19th  

For 4 months a year, I am subjected to the antics of the tax preparation place next door to my office. My "favorite" is the creepy Statue of Liberty that waves at people passing by on the highway. It makes me cower in terror, not want to allow them to file my taxes.

Jan. 20th  

My Scrabble word-of-the-day calendar was easier than usual on Wednesday. I had it solved before I even clocked in.

Jan. 21st.

I kind of feel bad about posting this (which is why I "black barred" his eyes like in Glamour Magazine) and probably no one else will think it's funny but I saw this guy at lunch and said "Look, it's Old Rob Zombie". David said "Ah yes, the real Mr. Zombie."  A few years ago, David worked security at a concert and got to escort Rob Zombie back to his trailer. He said "Have a good night, Mr. Zombie." Everyone has teased him since about calling him Mister Zombie.

 

Normally, Thursdays are my heaviest TV-watching night, but this time, the lure of a delicious snack (Mmm! Popcorn and M&M's mixed together!) and a good book won out. Thank goodness for DVR.

 

 Jan. 22nd

My water bottle must have slept wrong. It appears to have a crick in its neck.

I guess that brings us to the end of another week. Tomorrow, we are going to order the counter tops. Perhaps the picture of the day will be me in the fetal position on the floor of the hardware store as I try to make a final decision. Let's hope not...

Help me choose my new kitchen!

If you ask me, some decisions are just too hard to make on your own. That's why you have friends, right? As you know, David and I are in the midst of a kitchen makeover. Well, actually, we're in the midst of deciding what we want to do in our kitchen makeover. It's a slooooow process because I can't make up my mind! This is unusual for me. With most things, I can tell you what I want in .003 seconds. Since that is clearly not the case here, I've decided to get feedback from you guys! I'm going to attempt to add polling questions to this post. We'll see how that goes. If the polls don't function correctly, please leave me a comment with your choices. We're also accepting donations. Just kidding.

Background info:  My kitchen is L-shaped with a large center island. My appliances are white. My cabinets are going to be repainted to a bright white. At this point, it looks like the hardware will be satin nickel. Wall color to be determined. I am considering something in a terracotta shade but don't have my heart set on any specific color.

All choices are in a similar price range, so that will not be the deciding factor for me.

Also, please keep my cake decorating hobby in mind. It can get pretty messy so my new kitchen needs to accomodate with easy clean-up, low risk of staining, etc.

Counter tops

Choice 1: Antique Mascarello

Choice 2: Blue Storm

Choice 3: Golden Mascarello

Choice 4: Red Montana

Counter tops
	Choice 1: Antique Mascarello
	Choice 2: Blue Storm
	Choice 3: Golden Mascarello
	Choice 4: Red Montana
pollcode.com free polls

Sink

Choice 1: Granite, single basin.  In a graphite color (doesn't look quite as black as this).

Choice 2: Smart divide (the divider is about half the normal height. Pots and pans fit down well but you can still divide water if needed)  White acrylic.

Choice 3: Granite double sink (color could vary but probably the slate that is shown in the top left of the picture).

Sink
	Choice 1: Dark granite single basin
	Choice 2: Smart divide white acrylic
	Choice 3: Granite double basin
pollcode.com free polls

Faucet

Choice 1: Hot / cold handles, separate sprayer

Choice 2: Single handle, pull-out sprayer, soap pump

Choice 3: Separate pump, handle, sprayer

Facuet
	Choice 1: Separate handles and sprayer
	Choice 2: Single handle, pull-out sprayer
	Choice 3: All pieces separate
pollcode.com free polls

Thanks so much for taking the time to help me decide! When we get the kitchen finished, maybe I'll have an Open House and invite everyone who voted!

Keep Calm and Carry On

If you ask me, "freaking out" from time to time is not the worst thing in the world. However, David accusing me of freaking out just might be.

Yesterday, in my first blog post, I mentioned that I hate it when I get the slightest bit concerned about something and he accuses me of freaking out. I don't feel I'm too much of a freaker-outter. Then, in my second blog post, I probably significantly hurt my own case.  (Although I started my second post with "Rant Alert"... that's sort of like saying "With all due respect...")

Nevertheless, I don't think my general temperament is to freak out constantly. I come from a family who freaks out. A simple question like "Mom, do you guys want to meet us for dinner?"  is often answered with "I just don't know right now. Your dad is outside. Your grandparents are taking a nap. I don't know where your sister is but the baby is over here and she's fussy and my house is a mess and..."  at this point I usually say "Um, it's okay. You can just tell me later."  That's followed by, "Well, I don't know when I'll know, so don't call back in 5 minutes and ask me if I've decided yet, because I haven't. And I don't want to go to the Mexican place. I don't understand why you guys like it so much. But your dad doesn't want to go to Joe's. So you should probably just go without us... I have to go..." Click.  That is freaking out for no apparent reason, in my opinion. And heaven help you if you ever have to witness an actual family emergency. So, because of this, I think I am very aware of what does and does not constitute a freak out. I try to avoid them at all costs... and, when they can't be avoided, I own up to them... eventually, anyway.

Classic saying on the left... My family motto on the right

David, on the other hand, thinks that if I raise my voice at all, I am "freaking out". I also come from a very loud family where voice raising could be good, bad, indifferent or necessary... in and of itself, it represents nothing. If he is in the bedroom and I'm in the living room and I holler "Have you seen my keys?", he will often mention later in the day that I was freaking out because I couldn't find my keys. So, yes, this overused phrase has become quite annoying to me.

Not to mention that when I do freak out, his coping mechanism seems to be reminding me that I am freaking out. Last spring, I had a cake-tastrophy. I had put several roses down the side of a cake... and one by one, they started falling off. I yelled for David to help me. If he could just hold them in place so I could "glue" a little more icing behind them, it might work. Instead, he wonders why I'm freaking out. More roses fall. I say "Shut up and hand me that bag of icing". I'm told to stop freaking out. Then I start actually freaking out... complete with tears and hyperventilation. (See, that's how I know I rarely freak out... I hyperventilate when I do. Believe me, I couldn't do that 10 times a day!) All the while, David is shouting "Stop freaking out! You're freaking out!"  Um, really?! And yelling that phrase at me will magically make me stop? Eventually, he calmed down enough to ban me from the kitchen... pick up the pile of roses in the floor and make me go sit on the couch until I could compose myself. Then, a few hours later, I was able to repair and finish the cake. Yes, I 100% freaked out. So did he. Oh well, we eventually make it work and regain sanity.

Yesterday, I spent the better part of the day being mad about the salary database thing. I think I borderline freaked out (no hyperventilation) but, now that I've had some time to think about it, it boils down to a couple of things. A) I don't think posting names and salaries with no qualifying information such as experience, education, etc. does much to help the public understand how their tax money is being spent. But, it's legal and if people want to sit around and scrutinize that, be my guest.  B) What I am the most upset about is the salary itself... not that I feel David personally is paid unfairly but that our community (and country in general) should recognize the service the police and others provide them and be willing to pay accordingly. Almost every officer I know has to have a second job. That's not right.  And finally, C) If anything, posting his salary online should make me proud. When you see that number and you combine it with what I make, it's definitely modest compared to most two-income households. Yet, we're very blessed. We are able to have a house, cars that are in good shape, clothes, insurance, and even Starbucks. It's tight at times and yes, if we tried to add a child at this point, it would be nearly threadbare, but we still have so much more than a lot of people. We've never once missed a meal because we couldn't afford it. And, we're terrible at budgeting. Imagine if we actually kept a tight reign on our pocketbook.

So there you have it... my thoughts on freaking out.

Being told I'm freaking out when I'm not = Annoying

Actually freaking out from time to time = Perfectly acceptable

In fact, sometimes I intentionally make a bigger deal out of things than I need to just to prove a point... or to induce a freak out in someone else. It gets the blood pumping. It's good for your cardiovascular health.

Afternoon Rant

**Rant Alert**

Yes, I'm a little peeved at the moment. If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you probably already know why and may be inclined to skip this post altogether or tell me to suck it up. That's fine. I admit blogging out of anger might not be the best plan. On the other hand, if I get it out, maybe I can move on and do something productive this afternoon.

Our local newspaper recently posted an online database of (city) government employees' salaries. First, let me say that I am not necessarily mad at the newspaper for deciding to do this. I can accept the argument that these salaries are being paid with the public's tax dollars and they have a right to know how that information is being used. And yes, I know about the Freedom of Information Act.

However, I'm not sure what putting my husband's name and salary on an easily-accessible website accomplishes. Except to point out that other police officers with less experience that him are currently making more than him. Or to point out that a meter reader, a custodian, and someone listed as "worker" are also paid more than him.

Now, before people think I'm just being biased, let me point out that I understand marketability. I understand value-added. I get that a number on a website does not reflect the whole picture. Does another officer have more education than David? If so, a higher pay scale is justified. Does he have more overall experience, maybe just not seniority at this particular department? So on and so forth. That's a moot point. I'm not saying people shouldn't be paid based on both tangible and intangible qualities. Or that I feel like David personally has been wronged. I just think the whole situation is screwed up.

What this does is make me mad all over again about things I've been mad about my whole life. My husband has to wear a bullet-proof vest to work. My husband gets spit at. My husband has to clean up vomit. My husband has had to go to the hospital more times than I can count because someone thought it was okay to cause him physical harm. I could go on and on and on with examples, but you get the point. He has to do all these things for $26,380 a year.

Oh, and did I mention that the $26,380 includes $1,200 of a "uniform allowance"? He has to buy all of his own uniforms, equipment, pepper spray, etc. Everything but his gun and radio. And his radio barely works, by the way.

My dad is a retired police sergeant. When I was a kid, we qualified for free lunch. This is not a new frustration for me. It just wasn't on the internet in a way that personally affected me until today.

And yet, I can't remember the last time I went somewhere without overhearing a conversation about the (insert insulting word) cop who pulled them over... or how the cop was just picking on their kid... or why don't the cops do this or that. When I tell people my husband works for the police department, they usually comment that our town is a speed trap. Our "friends" don't think twice about asking David to see if he can get them out of a ticket they got... or their neighbor's co-worker got. And, I swear, if one more mom parades her little kid up to David and says "I told her if she didn't wear her seatbelt, you were going to take her to jail", I'll be the one in jail because I hit the mom. No wonder that in 15 years, that little kid will have a terrible attitude towards police and do some of the other things I just listed.

Also, to be fair, even though a lot of people treat the police with disdain, there are a few who seem to really understand how valuable these men and women are. Every now and then, someone will come up to David while we're at lunch and thank him for doing his job. It goes a long way towards making up for punch he had to take or the suicide he had to handle. And everything I've said about the police could also apply to the military, teachers, EMS, etc.

The bottom line is that my husband does what he does because he cares about people. It's a public service. We were under absolutely no false illusion that it paid well. Yet, when I have to see it on a website, yeah, I'm going to get mad that our city values meter reading and trash can emptying over public safety. I don't entirely blame the city council. They can only work with what they are given. If they did tried to pass a tax to increase police pay, would the citizens vote in favor? I doubt it. But hey, the next time they call 911 and the police are delayed in responding because their radio didn't work and the officer had to be reached on his private cell phone, maybe the caller can hang up and call the meter reader to come deal with their emergency. I really wish I could yell that at people that when I hear them complain.

That's the difference between David and me; he doesn't want to yell that at anyone. He's a better person than me. He'll take your abuse and your profanity and your disrespect and still show up when you call for help. He'll put himself between you and danger, even when you say "How dangerous can it really be in a small town?" He'll try not to look too depressed when I remind him that we can't afford a child right now. He'll smile when you make jokes about the paint that's peeling off his police car, even though he's embarrassed by it. He'll work a second job so we can afford to do enjoyable things every now and then. And if you want to look it up on a website and sit around and talk about how your tax dollars are being wasted, he'll let you. For $26,380 a year.

Poor Bruiser

If you ask me, being sick is the worst... regardless of your species. I've spent most of the winter feeling yucky. I'm finally starting to feel pretty good (please don't be a jinx!!) but now it's Bruiser's turn under the weather.

As you know, I am admittedly one of those people when it comes to Bruiser. I don't apologize for it. He's not just a dog to me. I mean, he is a dog... but he's part of our family. I don't have children. Maybe I will have at some point, maybe I won't. That's a whole different blog topic. For now, I have Bruiser. I can baby him and call myself Mommy and let him sleep in the bed with us. You can judge me if you want. It doesn't bother me. He's my fur child. And this weekend, he was a very sick fur child.

This is not Bruiser's first time to hit a rough patch...

There was the time he had some nether-region complications. I honestly don't recall if this picture is from when he got fixed or a different problem in that same general area. (If you weren't around for my MySpace blogging days, here is an explanation that might open. If not and you're just dying to know, I'll email it to you.) Either way, both scenarios resulted in this...

There was the time he hurt his paw...

Or the time he got arrested...

Oh, wait, I was just talking about illnesses...  moving on...

My point is that Bruiser is no stranger to the vet. He's had all the normal dog stuff like getting fixed, annual visits, the occasional skin problem, etc. He even had to go several months ago after becoming quite sick from something he ate. I remember it quite well. It was pretty warm and I opened the back door to let him in from outside. A stench hit me like a ton of bricks. It was one of the most foul odors I've ever smelled. I immediately dispatched David to the back yard in hopes of finding and eliminating whatever it was. I raced to the living room to avoid further gagging. Bruiser raced with me. Only then did I notice the odor was following me... or, rather, following Bruiser. In fact, it was caked to his collar and matted into his fur. Whatever it was, he had obviously had a grand ol' time rolling in it. And we figured he'd probably managed to ingest some of it too. So, a few hours later when he started having some "issues", we weren't surprised. We took him to the vet the next morning, she gave him something to stop the symptoms and something to treat whatever parasite / bacteria / nastiness was making him sick. No big deal.

So, with that in mind, you would have thought I would have been a lot calmer when he got sick this weekend. Friday, David came home and found (smelled) evidence Bruiser had been sick several times. He described the evidence... which I will not do... and it sounded fairly different than last time. We concluded that maybe he had found something else to get into outside and we'd just keep an eye on him. Before long, however, he couldn't even keep water down. This was very unusual. I got scared. Of course, it was 11:00 on a Friday night. David called the 24-hour vet clinic in Little Rock to see if they thought we could wait and see our vet in the morning or if we needed to bring him down there immediately. After a series of gross questions and answers, David assured me he would be okay until morning. I remained unconvinced. David told me to stop "freaking out". (His use of this phrase is also another blog topic. Let's just say it really pushes my buttons.)

We didn't get much sleep Friday night. We did get to clean up more messes. And I might get to get a new comforter, depending on what the dry cleaner says. But, we got through the night. We called the vet first thing in the morning and they said they were full. David said he was coming anyway, he would just wait until they could work him in. (Yes, thankfully our vet is open until noon on Saturdays.)  It took an hour or so, but the vet was able to see him. She said it was a good thing we just brought him anyway because he had a severe upper AND lower GI tract infection.

I should also mention that I did not go to the vet. While all the projectile fun was happening, my cousin was staying with us on a visit from out of state. As soon as he got back yesterday, his family was on their way to pick up a new puppy. They are not experienced dog people. I'm sure this adventure didn't help in convincing them of how fun the new puppy would be.

Anyway, David does the typical man thing and texts me bit of information from the vet. Like "Might be an infection or something with his pancreas."  Um, what?  "Severe infection. Glad we brought him. Might not have made it until Monday."  UM, WHAT?!?!  And cue the waterworks....

I composed myself. David brought Bruiser home. We had a fight  discussion about how much we would have spent had it been a serious problem. That, of course, reminded me that fur children aren't typically around as long as skin children. By the way, we never use the "d" word, we say "When Bruiser goes to college..." Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want.

Bottom line is that Bruiser spent the weekend recovering in bed...

He seems to be doing just fine today. I, on the other hand, am worn out after a weekend of fretting and stewing!!

However, almost every situation does have some funny point. This is no exception. The vet cautioned David that the medicine she was giving Bruiser would taste very bad and we might have trouble getting him to take it. This struck me as funny because he likely got sick from eating something like, I don't know, cat poo... a decaying mouse... something else rotten.  If you eat those things, surely you won't turn your nose up at a piece of bread with a little medicine on it, right? Wrong. I've concluded that nothing could taste worse than the things he might have eaten... so the medicine must actually taste good. Bruiser just doesn't have a very refined palate.

I also feel like I should mention that, depsite the whole "fur child" thing, I do not let Bruiser lick my face. See, I'm not a totally crazy pet parent!

(I apologize to everyone who would have rather read a movie review than a blog about vomit and diarrhea. Between Bruiser and the visiting relatives, I didn't have a lot of time for movie watching. I've got a few things at home to watch, so maybe I can post something mid-week.)

Project 365: Week 2

Week 2 of my 365 day photo project. So far, so good. It's pretty fun. I've had a few people say they wished they had started this too. So start! Who cares if you missed January 1st? It will still be just as cool if you end up with 50 or 51 weeks or if you go into next year with it.

Also, for some reason, my iPhone has been my camera of choice this week. (Probably because my actual camera is still at my desk from uploading last week's pictures.) Excuse the occasional blurriness.

Jan. 11th

I went with my mom to a class about her scrapbooking machine. The class was so-so. I did learn a few things about the machine, but mainly I learned that (after texting him to save me), David thinks a rescue mission involves fire crackers, strobes and a tamed raccoon. (No, I have no idea why.) Also, there was a lady in the class whose last name was McGonagall... like in Harry Potter.

Jan. 12th

On my way out the door to work, I noticed Bruiser's silhouette inside the window with the cat's behind him outside.

Jan. 13th

For reasons as unclear as the photo, my grandpa wandered in from the garage casually wearing my niece's hat. No, he's not senile. He's always been goofy like that!

And speaking of my niece, one of the benefits of taking a bath at grandma's house is that you are allowed to splash and make as big of a mess as you want.

(Just to clarify: My whole family doesn't all live in one house. My parents and I live in the same neighborhood. My grandparents come down from IL and spend the winters with my parents. My sister and her family live a couple of miles away. This is all fairly recent. I spent 12 years living 650 miles from them. Sometimes it's, um, challenging... but sometimes my grandpa walks in wearing a silly hat and I'm really glad to have them close by again.)

Jan. 14th

To show my commitment to this project, I even post pictures when I look like this! Please focus on what's wrong with my hair and not how unflattering my over-sized sweatshirt is.  This was me introducing my mom to People of Walmart.

Jan. 15th

Bruiser was naughty this morning. I told him to go think about what he'd done. He took a nap instead.

So, Week 2 is in the books. I'm headed up the hill to my mom's to spend some time with my aunt and my cousin who are both visiting from out of state. I think it's safe to say there will be something photo-worthy up there!

  

Mercury in Retrograde

If you ask me, January 15th can't get here quickly enough! In fact, I'm taking the day off to celebrate its arrival. Okay, that's not exactly true. Well, I am taking the day off, but it has nothing to do with the specific date. I am taking the day off to spend some time with visiting relatives. But, I digress...

So, January 15th is when Mercury is no longer in retrograde. Huh? Let me start by saying that I am not a follower of astrology. Like most things, I think it is an interesting area to learn about but it doesn't generally harmonize with the rest of my beliefs. But, I do believe in a natural order of things, balance, etc. I think God is in charge of it... some people think it's the planets, the trees, the moon, whatever. I'm not here to debate that. I'm just saying that, whether or not the movement of a certain planet has any impact on my life, something is out of whack right now. And, since Mercury is in retrograde, I'm going to loosely blame that.

According to astrology (and by "astrology", I mean "this website I found on Google a while back"), a planet in retrograde is at a point in its orbit where it is moving backwards through the zodiac. (The planet itself isn't turning backwards or anything.) When its Mercury's turn, the things "ruled" by Mercury tend to go haywire. Mercury controls things like perception, processing information and communication. So, during a retrograde period, you can expect a lot of miscommunication, misunderstanding, problems negotiating, trouble making decisions and even glitches in technologies like phone and internet.

Hmmm. Sounds like the story of my life for the past, oh, 3 weeks... give or take. What's that? The retrograde started Dec. 26th? Weird.

I feel like I need to make another disclaimer that I'm not suggesting astrology holds the secrets to all of life's mysteries. I don't even read my horoscope. I just like to blame things I can't explain on the universe. It's vague and can be humorously applied to most any circumstance. You know, like last week when Kelli couldn't get her online ticket order to process. Mercury-related technology glitch? Or maybe the iPhone just can't do everything. Who knows? I just went with "It appears you have angered the universe." Sometimes when I walk into a door jamb, I conclude the universe needed a laugh. It makes me feel better than knowing I am clumsy and unobservant.

So, whatever this phenomenon is... whether celestial, coincidental or completely self-induced... I'm ready for it to be over. David and I are both a little snippier than usual lately. People keep showing up late for appointments. Our cell phones keep dropping calls. NBC is being mean to Conan O'Brien. My attention span is non-existent. Reality Steve couldn't get his column to post yesterday. I got into an argument with the cat. My grandmother is more confused than usual. (She saw a picture of my cousin with her kids and husband and Mr. and Mrs. Claus. She thought the Clauses were the husband's grandparents. True story.) I had to spend 10 minutes yesterday explaining something to someone that has a license saying they already know. My aunt's flight was delayed for no apparent reason. I keep spelling my name wrong. And, finally, my decision-making ability is so far-removed from my mind that I'm not sure I'll recognize it when it does return.

Mercury, if it is you behind this, KNOCK IT OFF!! Get back to front-ro-grade!

After all, I have a number of things I would like to do without the hindrance of cosmic confusion. For example, Friday, I may be prepared to announce my decision regarding the kitchen counters. I think I have almost made up my mind. But then it changes in 30 minutes. (Actually, it hasn't changed since lunch 3 hours ago. It may be a record!) Well, now that I've thought about it, Friday might be a little soon. I need to go back to the store and check a few more things. Maybe by Saturday. Except Saturday will be the day we actually go to the store... so I'll probably need some time to think about it before I decide. So, Sunday. Probably. I don't know. I can't decide this right now... :-)