I was trying to figure out earlier this week how we were going to tell TheChild about Azrael. It turns out that I didn't really need to worry about it. According to TheMister, my mother-in-law took the liberty of telling TheChild while talking to her on the phone a few days ago. Upon telling TheMister about it, he said, "I really wish you hadn't done that."
She said, "Why not?"
He said, "Um...because we're her parents and we really wanted to tell her. Plus, it's something that we wanted to tell her in person. That's not really something you tell someone over the phone."
She said, "Oh, I didn't even think of that."
Gah. This is yet another example in a long line of examples of my mother-in-law's severe boundary issues. I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say that we might either be having (yet another) come-to-Jesus meeting with her soon, or I might just punch her some time in the near future. At this point I'm pretty damn sure that just talking to her about things has no effect on anything whatsoever, no matter how much she assures us that she understands the message we're trying to get across to her at the time.
The amusing thing about my husband telling me this last night was that I had a dream that sort of mirrors this theme a few weeks ago. In the dream, TheMister and I told his mom we were pregnant, after which his mom took it upon herself to tell TheChild before we had a chance to talk to her. So I called her a 'fucking bitch'. Apparently I said the 'fucking bitch' part out loud because TheMister asked me the next morning who I was swearing at in my sleep. Heh. I thought it was just a dumb dream. Who would have thought it was a prophetic one?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Imagination is a Muscle
I don't care what anyone says...I think the imagination is like a muscle: if you don't exercise it regularly, it will at the very least atrophy, if not disappear altogether. (Okay, so unused muscles don't actually disappear, but you grok my meaning, right?)
It actually makes me sad to think that if TheMister or I ever asked TheChild to tell us a story that doesn't already exist, she most likely couldn't come up with one. She might try to tell us a story that comes from one of her many cartoons. I think that might actually be the most likely source for her, since her contributions to conversation are often something she found funny in a cartoon, which usually turns out to be not nearly as amusing in the retelling of it as it was to her at the time.
A couple of months ago, she actually used a cardboard box in which something had been delivered to the house to make herself a fort. I was so excited that she was finally using her imagination for something! Then I realized she got the idea out of a book she was reading.
Every time she comes to TheMister or I and says, "I'm bored!", it bothers the hell out of me.
At one point I told her, "It is our job to buy you toys to play with. It is your job to figure out how to amuse yourself with said toys. "
At another point I said, "We are not a cruise line or a summer camp. We don't have every hour of every day scheduled out with activities we will be doing to amuse you. We shouldn't have to entertain you ALL THE TIME. Sometimes we have to actually get stuff done and you'll have to amuse yourself for a while."
I don't know if it's because I spent so much time reading as a kid, or because I just naturally figured out how to entertain myself for long periods of time in my head. Someone could name an object - any object - and I could tell you at least a few ways to entertain yourself with it. If you gave me a stick, I'd say you could pretend it was a sword and fence with it, write in the dirt with it, or collect bugs by getting them to crawl on it. If you had paper and a pencil, you could draw something, write a story or your own Mad Libs or fold the paper into paper airplanes or origami.
I think that all of TheChild's tv watching and video game playing have actually made her imagination shrivel up like a raisin. (There is actually a study that proves that more than 2 hours of tv-watching a day actually makes kids lose IQ points. There's truth to the nickname "idiot box".
This article basically proves my point: http://www.wtsp.com/news/local/story.aspx?storyid=108363
This is a great source of information about the effect of TV on children: http://kidshealth.org/parent/positive/family/tv_affects_child.html#
Study about kids' TV and computer habits: http://www.cnn.com/2003/HEALTH/parenting/10/28/tv.kids/
Study about kids and language development: http://www.switched.com/2009/06/02/tv-hinders-kids-language-development-study-says/
So...what do you think? Does imagination fall into the "use it or lose it" category?
It actually makes me sad to think that if TheMister or I ever asked TheChild to tell us a story that doesn't already exist, she most likely couldn't come up with one. She might try to tell us a story that comes from one of her many cartoons. I think that might actually be the most likely source for her, since her contributions to conversation are often something she found funny in a cartoon, which usually turns out to be not nearly as amusing in the retelling of it as it was to her at the time.
A couple of months ago, she actually used a cardboard box in which something had been delivered to the house to make herself a fort. I was so excited that she was finally using her imagination for something! Then I realized she got the idea out of a book she was reading.
Every time she comes to TheMister or I and says, "I'm bored!", it bothers the hell out of me.
At one point I told her, "It is our job to buy you toys to play with. It is your job to figure out how to amuse yourself with said toys. "
At another point I said, "We are not a cruise line or a summer camp. We don't have every hour of every day scheduled out with activities we will be doing to amuse you. We shouldn't have to entertain you ALL THE TIME. Sometimes we have to actually get stuff done and you'll have to amuse yourself for a while."
I don't know if it's because I spent so much time reading as a kid, or because I just naturally figured out how to entertain myself for long periods of time in my head. Someone could name an object - any object - and I could tell you at least a few ways to entertain yourself with it. If you gave me a stick, I'd say you could pretend it was a sword and fence with it, write in the dirt with it, or collect bugs by getting them to crawl on it. If you had paper and a pencil, you could draw something, write a story or your own Mad Libs or fold the paper into paper airplanes or origami.
I think that all of TheChild's tv watching and video game playing have actually made her imagination shrivel up like a raisin. (There is actually a study that proves that more than 2 hours of tv-watching a day actually makes kids lose IQ points. There's truth to the nickname "idiot box".
This article basically proves my point: http://www.wtsp.com/news/local/story.aspx?storyid=108363
This is a great source of information about the effect of TV on children: http://kidshealth.org/parent/positive/family/tv_affects_child.html#
Study about kids' TV and computer habits: http://www.cnn.com/2003/HEALTH/parenting/10/28/tv.kids/
Study about kids and language development: http://www.switched.com/2009/06/02/tv-hinders-kids-language-development-study-says/
So...what do you think? Does imagination fall into the "use it or lose it" category?
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The Hardest Decision
TheMister and I made an incredibly difficult decision this week. We finally decided to put Azrael to sleep.
Why? She's had chronic pyelonephritis pretty much since we got her. For the last few years, she would be sick about a week or two, during which we'd give her antibiotics and pain medication, and then she would get better for a few months before having another bout of "the pee-pee" (as we called it). The past four or five months, though, it has been pretty much continuous.
When she was sick it must have been hell for her. She was constantly on "high alert" and ready to run if anyone moved anywhere near her. She was never truly relaxed, even when she was sleeping or when someone was petting her. That, even on its own, must have been exhausting for her.
She felt like she was peeing razor blades because of the crystals in her urine. Giving her the medicine that would make her feel better required two people. We knew that someday her kidneys would fail and we'd have to give her IV fluids under the skin of her back - something that sounded even less possible.
She was also fighting with the two other cats and had started hiding behind things so she could ambush the puppy and smack him around. She spent most of her time hiding or sleeping in our bedroom. I felt like I barely saw her for the past few months, except for the times when she was sick and would follow me around and bite me if I didn't pet her.
Basically, it came down to one thing: her quality of life was suffering. So, we called the vet this past Thursday and made an appointment for Friday at 3:00 PM. As soon as he got off the phone, TheMister became emotional, as did I. We were making a life-or-death decision for another living being and neither of us was 100% sure that it was the right one. We both wanted to make sure that we were doing it for the right reasons...because it was best for her and not because we had gotten tired of cleaning her pee off everything we owned.
On Friday morning we went to find a nice box to bury her in and a statue of some kind as a memorial for her, to place over her grave. Then we ran to Lowe's to buy some rose bushes to plant around her. We also gave her a can of tuna fish a couple of hours before her appointment. We figured she deserved a treat.
The drive to the vet's office was emotional and difficult. I had hoped to at least make it to the vet's office before I lost it, but I only made it about 1/4 of the way there before I broke down. When we got to the vet's office, we brought the tissue box in from the truck because we knew we'd need tissues before we even got into the exam room.
The actual procedure was basically painless for Azrael...not so much for us. The vet explained everything he was going to do before he did it. He gave her an IM injection of anesthetic, told us that it would take 3 to 5 minutes for her to go into a sleep state and he would check on us in a few minutes. Once she was deep in the sleep state, he put the tourniquet around her front left leg, found a vein, and slowly injected more of the anesthetic into it. We waited a minute while the vet listened to her heart. He said, "her heart has in fact stopped. You can stay in here for as long as you like. Again, I'm so sorry."
When all was said and done, the thing that struck both of us about the whole situation was that when we brought her into the exam room, we removed the top of the carrier she was in and she just laid there. She seemed totally relaxed. Normally when I take her to the vet she's freaking out and frantically looking for somewhere to hide. I think it says a lot that despite our being in the exam room at the vet's office while we waited for him to euthanize her, she was calmer than she had been in probably six months. I think she was ready.
We brought her home and took the top off the carrier so Sawyer and Callie could smell her to see what was going on and/or to say goodbye. Then TheMister put her into the box we bought for her, surrounded by soft mauve fleece, curled up like she used to curl up in her bed.
We buried her and put in the rose bushes this afternoon. We both think that area is very pretty now.
Below are some more pictures.
Close-up of the angel statue
Rest in peace, Azrael. We will miss you.
Why? She's had chronic pyelonephritis pretty much since we got her. For the last few years, she would be sick about a week or two, during which we'd give her antibiotics and pain medication, and then she would get better for a few months before having another bout of "the pee-pee" (as we called it). The past four or five months, though, it has been pretty much continuous.
When she was sick it must have been hell for her. She was constantly on "high alert" and ready to run if anyone moved anywhere near her. She was never truly relaxed, even when she was sleeping or when someone was petting her. That, even on its own, must have been exhausting for her.
She felt like she was peeing razor blades because of the crystals in her urine. Giving her the medicine that would make her feel better required two people. We knew that someday her kidneys would fail and we'd have to give her IV fluids under the skin of her back - something that sounded even less possible.
She was also fighting with the two other cats and had started hiding behind things so she could ambush the puppy and smack him around. She spent most of her time hiding or sleeping in our bedroom. I felt like I barely saw her for the past few months, except for the times when she was sick and would follow me around and bite me if I didn't pet her.
Basically, it came down to one thing: her quality of life was suffering. So, we called the vet this past Thursday and made an appointment for Friday at 3:00 PM. As soon as he got off the phone, TheMister became emotional, as did I. We were making a life-or-death decision for another living being and neither of us was 100% sure that it was the right one. We both wanted to make sure that we were doing it for the right reasons...because it was best for her and not because we had gotten tired of cleaning her pee off everything we owned.
On Friday morning we went to find a nice box to bury her in and a statue of some kind as a memorial for her, to place over her grave. Then we ran to Lowe's to buy some rose bushes to plant around her. We also gave her a can of tuna fish a couple of hours before her appointment. We figured she deserved a treat.
The drive to the vet's office was emotional and difficult. I had hoped to at least make it to the vet's office before I lost it, but I only made it about 1/4 of the way there before I broke down. When we got to the vet's office, we brought the tissue box in from the truck because we knew we'd need tissues before we even got into the exam room.
The actual procedure was basically painless for Azrael...not so much for us. The vet explained everything he was going to do before he did it. He gave her an IM injection of anesthetic, told us that it would take 3 to 5 minutes for her to go into a sleep state and he would check on us in a few minutes. Once she was deep in the sleep state, he put the tourniquet around her front left leg, found a vein, and slowly injected more of the anesthetic into it. We waited a minute while the vet listened to her heart. He said, "her heart has in fact stopped. You can stay in here for as long as you like. Again, I'm so sorry."
When all was said and done, the thing that struck both of us about the whole situation was that when we brought her into the exam room, we removed the top of the carrier she was in and she just laid there. She seemed totally relaxed. Normally when I take her to the vet she's freaking out and frantically looking for somewhere to hide. I think it says a lot that despite our being in the exam room at the vet's office while we waited for him to euthanize her, she was calmer than she had been in probably six months. I think she was ready.
We brought her home and took the top off the carrier so Sawyer and Callie could smell her to see what was going on and/or to say goodbye. Then TheMister put her into the box we bought for her, surrounded by soft mauve fleece, curled up like she used to curl up in her bed.
We buried her and put in the rose bushes this afternoon. We both think that area is very pretty now.
Below are some more pictures.
Close-up of the angel statue
Rest in peace, Azrael. We will miss you.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Jesus. and Ouch.
There must be some sort of exercise that people are supposed to do during the winter to keep them in shape for mowing the lawn in the summer. Apparently I have neglected to do whatever this exercise is. (Unless it's sitting on your ass and eating, because I've definitely been doing that particular activity on a regular basis.)
I mowed this morning. I now feel like I was on the wrong side of a severe ass kicking by several ninjas. My back hurts. My arms hurt. My feet hurt. Both my hands have painful areas on them from pushing the smaller wire handle on the mower against the larger rubber handle, which is sort of required in order to keep the mower running. (Note to self: Either wear gardening gloves and mow when you won't get weird tan lines from wearing them or find another way to protect your palms from this issue. Perhaps using zip ties to hold the smaller handle to the larger handle?)
I need to shower, but I'm sort of hesitant to do so because I'm afraid my arms will be pretty much useless and the water will hurt my hands.
Waahhh!
I mowed this morning. I now feel like I was on the wrong side of a severe ass kicking by several ninjas. My back hurts. My arms hurt. My feet hurt. Both my hands have painful areas on them from pushing the smaller wire handle on the mower against the larger rubber handle, which is sort of required in order to keep the mower running. (Note to self: Either wear gardening gloves and mow when you won't get weird tan lines from wearing them or find another way to protect your palms from this issue. Perhaps using zip ties to hold the smaller handle to the larger handle?)
I need to shower, but I'm sort of hesitant to do so because I'm afraid my arms will be pretty much useless and the water will hurt my hands.
Waahhh!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
This Is Why It's Pointless For Me To Clean
I've been cleaning today. I have received many reminders as to why it's essentially pointless for me to clean. One such example?
6:12 PM - The windows in both french doors are clean and spotless, both inside and outside. (I have photographic proof.)
6:20 PM - The windows in both french doors have nose prints on both sides and one door has puppy snot dripping down the glass. Yummy!
I told TheMister when he called earlier that I was just going to keep vacuuming the house continually until he got home, so he could see that I did, in fact, clean. Thoroughly. Even if you'd never know it, unless you actually witnessed it.
6:12 PM - The windows in both french doors are clean and spotless, both inside and outside. (I have photographic proof.)
6:20 PM - The windows in both french doors have nose prints on both sides and one door has puppy snot dripping down the glass. Yummy!
I told TheMister when he called earlier that I was just going to keep vacuuming the house continually until he got home, so he could see that I did, in fact, clean. Thoroughly. Even if you'd never know it, unless you actually witnessed it.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Best Spam Subject Lines
I, like many people, get insane amounts of stupid spam. For some reason, the spammers are exceptionally concerned about the size of my penis. Following are some of the best subject lines from recent spam messages as well as my thoughts upon seeing them.
(These are not in any particular order.)
*Pop goes your weasel
Great, now I have that song in my head. (Remember that song from the 80's?) Also, who wants to walk around with a weasel in their pants?
*Become bigger and cooler and start loving a ruler.
Umm...I give them points for rhyming. However, isn't the whole point of all these stupid 'grow your penis' spam e-mails to enlarge your penis so you can have sex with lots of ladies? I have a feeling that if you're a guy who loves measuring your penis with a ruler, you have way more spare time than someone who's out banging chicks all the time.
*Our pills will make you look like a champagne bottle.
Okay, I don't know about the rest of you ladies out there, but if I saw a penis coming at me that was the size of a champagne bottle, I would be less turned on and more scared. All I can think of is "ouch!" And perhaps, "What exactly is in those pills?"
You hate talking about your dimensions? Now you will love it.
Again, if you enjoy talking about the size of your penis in detail, chances are you're not getting laid real often.
Be proud of your biggest achievement that shines in your pants.
Wow, really? These pills will make your penis shiny? Vain ladies might like that, if they can see themselves in it. Chicks with ADD might dig it... "As for the bailout of the auto industry and the financial corporations...Oooh, shiny!"
Women love to be possessed by handsome men who are well-blessed.
Umm...first of all, I don't really know any women who like being "possessed". Secondly, will it work if you're just one or the other? What if you're not handsome but are well-blessed? If you are in fact not handsome but are well-blessed, how exactly do you get that message across to people upon meeting them without seeming like a perverted weirdo? "Hi! I may not be that handsome, but check THIS out!"
So, what are some of the best spam subject lines you've seen lately?
(These are not in any particular order.)
*Pop goes your weasel
Great, now I have that song in my head. (Remember that song from the 80's?) Also, who wants to walk around with a weasel in their pants?
*Become bigger and cooler and start loving a ruler.
Umm...I give them points for rhyming. However, isn't the whole point of all these stupid 'grow your penis' spam e-mails to enlarge your penis so you can have sex with lots of ladies? I have a feeling that if you're a guy who loves measuring your penis with a ruler, you have way more spare time than someone who's out banging chicks all the time.
*Our pills will make you look like a champagne bottle.
Okay, I don't know about the rest of you ladies out there, but if I saw a penis coming at me that was the size of a champagne bottle, I would be less turned on and more scared. All I can think of is "ouch!" And perhaps, "What exactly is in those pills?"
You hate talking about your dimensions? Now you will love it.
Again, if you enjoy talking about the size of your penis in detail, chances are you're not getting laid real often.
Be proud of your biggest achievement that shines in your pants.
Wow, really? These pills will make your penis shiny? Vain ladies might like that, if they can see themselves in it. Chicks with ADD might dig it... "As for the bailout of the auto industry and the financial corporations...Oooh, shiny!"
Women love to be possessed by handsome men who are well-blessed.
Umm...first of all, I don't really know any women who like being "possessed". Secondly, will it work if you're just one or the other? What if you're not handsome but are well-blessed? If you are in fact not handsome but are well-blessed, how exactly do you get that message across to people upon meeting them without seeming like a perverted weirdo? "Hi! I may not be that handsome, but check THIS out!"
So, what are some of the best spam subject lines you've seen lately?
Thursday, March 19, 2009
I Am a Spaz
I went to the doctor today for my annual physical/trip to Stirrup Land. Everything went well, she said everything looked good, gave me the written prescriptions I needed, blah blah...then she said I had to get blood drawn.
I said, "Damn it! I was hoping to get out of here without having to be poked."
She said, "Sorry...no. But, none of the blood work I ordered has to be done after you fast or anything, so you can get it done whenever. It doesn't have to be today."
I thought about it on the way out of the suite and decided that I might as well do it while I was already there. (Because I am a Big Girl! Hooray for me!)
So, I went to the lab at my doctor's office, where I waited for a few minutes with several ladies who were at least 3 times my age, before being called back.
The phlebotomy lady had issues with my insurance card (of course, since we have the anti-insurance that is basically a VISA card) and after about 5 minutes of messing around with the computer, she finally decided to deal with the insurance stuff later.
She got the three vials out and set them on the desk, and then grabbed the needle. I said, "Hooray! Needles! My favorite!"
She laughed and did the deed. And put full blood vial after full blood vial onto the desk, right where I happened to be looking.
I sat there for a few seconds after she was done and thought I felt fine. I made it out of the lab, down the hall and out the front doors before it happened.
I remember thinking, "wow, everything looks really BRIGHT...", and then "are my legs still moving?" and then "wow, everything looks kinda sideways" and then *BAM!!* I was on the ground.
Things went sort of dark for a minute, and then I heard, "Whoa! Are you okay?"
I blinked my eyes a few times and shook the cobwebs out of my head and looked up to see a guy coming over.
He said, "Are you okay? I just saw you take a tumble." Then he held his hand out to me and helped me stand up.
He asked me again if I was okay, and I said, "I just had blood drawn and I thought I was okay, but apparently I was wrong!"
He said, "I can't believe they just let you leave."
I said, "Well, I didn't feel dizzy or anything until...I fell down, I guess."
Then he walked with me to the truck, keeping an eye on me so I didn't fall down again, and told me to sit for a few minutes before I tried to drive.
He said, "My name is Donovan, by the way, just in case we ever run into each other again."
I told him my name, he told me to feel better and I thanked him again for helping me out. We got into our respective vehicles. I sat in the truck for a few minutes, leaned the seat back and breathed deeply, trying to make all the stupid black dots I was seeing go away. I got a few glucose tablets out of my purse and took them, in case my dizziness was blood sugar related.
Once the glucose tablets kicked in and my vision was clear, I headed home.
I am so glad that someone stopped to help me when I fell on my ass right outside the doctor's office, otherwise someone dropping off a patient at the front doors might have run me over or something. I probably would have had to just sit there in the driveway for about 5 minutes, until my head cleared. I'm glad he made sure I got to the truck okay, instead of just helping me stand up and then walking away. It's nice to have a reminder that people can actually be decent and kind and willing to help someone they don't know, instead of just laughing at the girl who fell on her ass and then continuing on their way.
So, my advice to anyone reading this? Perform a random act of kindness today. It doesn't need to be something huge or something that requires you to spend a lot of money. Sometimes the simplest things mean the most.
Happy Thursday!
I said, "Damn it! I was hoping to get out of here without having to be poked."
She said, "Sorry...no. But, none of the blood work I ordered has to be done after you fast or anything, so you can get it done whenever. It doesn't have to be today."
I thought about it on the way out of the suite and decided that I might as well do it while I was already there. (Because I am a Big Girl! Hooray for me!)
So, I went to the lab at my doctor's office, where I waited for a few minutes with several ladies who were at least 3 times my age, before being called back.
The phlebotomy lady had issues with my insurance card (of course, since we have the anti-insurance that is basically a VISA card) and after about 5 minutes of messing around with the computer, she finally decided to deal with the insurance stuff later.
She got the three vials out and set them on the desk, and then grabbed the needle. I said, "Hooray! Needles! My favorite!"
She laughed and did the deed. And put full blood vial after full blood vial onto the desk, right where I happened to be looking.
I sat there for a few seconds after she was done and thought I felt fine. I made it out of the lab, down the hall and out the front doors before it happened.
I remember thinking, "wow, everything looks really BRIGHT...", and then "are my legs still moving?" and then "wow, everything looks kinda sideways" and then *BAM!!* I was on the ground.
Things went sort of dark for a minute, and then I heard, "Whoa! Are you okay?"
I blinked my eyes a few times and shook the cobwebs out of my head and looked up to see a guy coming over.
He said, "Are you okay? I just saw you take a tumble." Then he held his hand out to me and helped me stand up.
He asked me again if I was okay, and I said, "I just had blood drawn and I thought I was okay, but apparently I was wrong!"
He said, "I can't believe they just let you leave."
I said, "Well, I didn't feel dizzy or anything until...I fell down, I guess."
Then he walked with me to the truck, keeping an eye on me so I didn't fall down again, and told me to sit for a few minutes before I tried to drive.
He said, "My name is Donovan, by the way, just in case we ever run into each other again."
I told him my name, he told me to feel better and I thanked him again for helping me out. We got into our respective vehicles. I sat in the truck for a few minutes, leaned the seat back and breathed deeply, trying to make all the stupid black dots I was seeing go away. I got a few glucose tablets out of my purse and took them, in case my dizziness was blood sugar related.
Once the glucose tablets kicked in and my vision was clear, I headed home.
I am so glad that someone stopped to help me when I fell on my ass right outside the doctor's office, otherwise someone dropping off a patient at the front doors might have run me over or something. I probably would have had to just sit there in the driveway for about 5 minutes, until my head cleared. I'm glad he made sure I got to the truck okay, instead of just helping me stand up and then walking away. It's nice to have a reminder that people can actually be decent and kind and willing to help someone they don't know, instead of just laughing at the girl who fell on her ass and then continuing on their way.
So, my advice to anyone reading this? Perform a random act of kindness today. It doesn't need to be something huge or something that requires you to spend a lot of money. Sometimes the simplest things mean the most.
Happy Thursday!
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