One Innocent Bystander: A Life In Progress...

I'm Back, but with sad tidings...

2011-04-25T07:20:00.000-07:00

Wow.

It's been a year since I last logged on.

Really?

Time flies when you're not having fun.

I was hoping to start this blog again with my usual dry wit and snarky observations, but fate stepped in and said, "Nope! You'll write about something depressing and sad. If you don't like it, tough noogies."

So here goes.

Dave's dad, Jimmy, passed away last week. We've been very busy with funeral details, estate details, and just everyday details that can't be delayed or ignored, as tempted as we were to forget about everything else.

Even as I write this I can't believe he's really gone. And it's not as if we didn't have time to prepare ourselves for the worst. He was sick for two years, and in a nursing home for 1 1/2 years. You figure that should have given us plenty of time to prepare.

But here's the thing: Just because you are prepared for something doesn't mean you are ready for it.

I've known Jimmy for half my life. I just assumed he would always be there, worrying about us living in the 'sticks, calling us in when bad weather was headed our way to make sure we were safe. He just always seemed to be a constant in our lives, an anchor, a person we could always call about home repairs questions, car repairs questions, or just to call and say hi.

We don't have that anymore.

Yes, I'm sad. We lived next door to Dave's parents for 5 years. In that time, he was always very generous, willing to help with anything, always greeted me with a smile and a bright, "Hey, Kath." I'm starting to realize I won't be hearing that greeting anymore, and it stinks.

I know I should be grateful that he's no longer in pain, a fact of life he dealt with for over 2 years. He's no longer forced to endure life from a nursing home bed, a situation he hated and would have avoided at all costs, had the choice been his to make. He couldn't speak, couldn't eat, and could only communicate with blinks and hand signals from one hand. It's not a quality of life he wanted.

I should be grateful that I had 17 years with him, to know him, to love him, to appreciate all his help, guidance, and support.

I should be.

But I'm not.

Instead, I find myself angry.

Angry that my daughter will never know her grandfather. Angry that she never had any real time with him, because all her visits were confined to running around outside the nursing home, while he sat nearby in a wheelchair . Angry that she will never go fishing with him, never enjoy the park with him, never be spoiled rotten by him. She will never hear his stories about winters in Indiana, about how he tricked her dad and her uncles by pretending to be Santa on the roof.

Angry that he never really got to hold her, love her, or spend quality time with her.

It's an odd feeling, being so angry at something I can't change or control.

I suppose it'll get easier as time goes by. I suppose we'll keep his memory alive by telling her the stories he himself would have told her.

I won't like it.

But I'll do it, for my daughter's sake, because she deserves to have good memories of him too, even if they're only in story-form.

Time Flies When You're Changing Diapers

2010-03-11T16:42:00.001-08:00

I know... I know. It's been a LONG while since my last post. I could give you so many excuses for why I haven't been posting: I've been insanely busy trying to keep my 8-month-old fed, clothed, clean-diapered and entertained. Seriously -- who knew such a small person could demand so much of your time, energy and sanity?!?!?! : )

Perhaps I'll just use the standard excuse that has worked for so many schoolchildren for so many generations -- the dog ate my computer.

Really, though, my main excuse is that I got a new computer (laptop) and didn't transfer over the Favorites links, and I was entirely too lazy to remember any important details (userid and password) pertaining to the blog, so I kept putting off any updates. Well, tonight I finally found where I had written down those details. So, voila! Here we are again.

Life has been hectic, for sure. My daughter (aka my little nomad) is very much an on-the-go child. She is not happy unless she is in the car traveling during the day. So this means most everything else has taken a secondary importance, because, as those of you who are parents can attest, whatever works to keep her happy and quiet, you do it. Thankfully, as she gets older, she is starting to get content staying home for longer periods, and seems happy with 2 hours treks versus the old 6 hour treks. This means we can start getting some things done around the house which are LONG overdue. The list is too big to get into detail here, but let's just say that I purposefully have not had company over since Christmas because of my lack of attention to those home details. I have to believe that a messy house signifies that a happy child lives there. I have to believe it or I will, possibly, go insane.

Miss Kaylee is now crawling backwards, but lays on her stomach and rolls herself forward. She is learning the fine art of eating solid foods, and she is learning sign language with the help of Baby Einstein videos. She knows the signs for mommy, daddy, milk, sleep, and cereal. And let's face it -- that's pretty much her life right now. With the help of her bouncy chair, she is working towards propelling herself into the Milky Way. She has two teeth on top and two teeth on the bottom, and will strip the skin off your finger if you are brave/dumb enough to stick a finger in her mouth.

All in all, she's a healthy and happy little girl.

Where does the time go?

2009-12-10T12:38:00.000-08:00

I can't believe I haven't posted anything in so long.

Time just seems to be slipping away from me, and the tighter I try to keep hold, the faster it slips away.

We've been a busy little family the last few weeks. Miss Kaylee is now in the throes of teething woes, and we're trying everything under the sun to help alleviate the worst of her pains, but it looks like this is just something she'll have to outgrow. She won't touch teething rings. She hates the taste of Ora-Gel (but it does give some relief). The only thing she likes to knaw on is a stuffed animal Bunny with wide, flat plastic feet and hands (we've Bun-Bun, because right now it's the only thing keeping Big Dave and me sane.

We're also in the process of trying to get the house in order because come Christmas Day, we will be invaded by relatives. My brother, sis-in-law and niece and nephew will be here, as well as my mom and dad, so we'll have a full house for the holidays. Great for family togetherness, not so great for Big Dave and me because quite frankly, house cleaning has not been at the top of our priority list after a difficult pregnancy and the trials and tribulations of early parenthood. I'm trying to take it one room at a time, but with a teething infant, work, and tax season almost near, there's very little time left to devote to cleaning a toilet, let alone a whole room. Why can't I have the powers of Samantha from Bewitched? Just wiggle my nose, and the chores are done. Ya know what? That's my Christmas wish. Forget world peace and goodwill towards mankind. I want supernatural powers that will take care of the housework.

Are you listening, Santa?

Life's Little Speedbumps

2009-11-12T05:45:00.000-08:00

Ever notice how you can't enjoy the good things in life without a little of the bad things thrown in for good measure?

Lately, it seems Big Dave and I have been encountering more of the bad than the good.

Big Dave's dad is not doing so well after his strokes and operation. He's still on a feeding tube, still cannot move without a wheelchair, and is in pain much of the time. Fortunately, we were able to get him into a good nursing home. Now we have the fun task of trying to get him onto Medicaid, because Medicare will run out in December. So we have been helping Dave's mom try to get the paperwork in order. This is proving much more difficult than previously thought. We have been trying to navigate through the Medicaid system, and it is filled with roadblocks, landmines, atomic warheads and potholes the size of Texas. When you can get ahold of a live Medicaid person to talk to, whatever they tell you may or may not be the right answer. The next person you talk to will tell you something completely different, and tell you the previous person doesn't know what they are talking about. More often than not, instead of getting answers, you get pushed right back to square one. And if you don't get the application perfect, you run a very high risk of getting denied or getting delayed in funding. In short, it's a bureaucratic nightmare. And it doesn't seem to end.

Even the lawyers don't seem to know the Medicaid rules. We have talked with elder law attorneys, estate planning lawyers, and lawyers specializing in Medicaid, and they are all telling us something different. It's enough to make you scream and beg the pencil pushers for mercy.

Where's the Me That Was?

2009-11-05T13:49:00.001-08:00

I used to be a very independent person. Just ask anyone, and they'll tell you that I enjoyed being on my own, to do whatever I wished whenever I wished. I had strong opinions about most everything, and wasn't afraid to share them. Most issues were black and white to me. Things were either wrong or right.

Fast forward 15 years. I have been blessed with many things over the years - a loving husband, a healthy and happy daughter, and a home to call my own. I am thankful for these blessings a thousand times a day. But for a long time it has felt like something significant has been missing from my life, and I think it's this:

I feel less like myself now more than I ever have before.

Let me see if I can explain it.

I am now known as Dave's wife. I am also known as Kaylee's mom. Very rarely, if ever, am I known as just me. Just Kathy.

Don't get me wrong: I love being a wife and mother. But it's not all I am. There is so much more to me than diaper changes, bottle feedings, dishes and laundry. I'm not just about business meetings, bank conferences, and investments.

But the rest of me just seems to get buried underneath the day-to-day chaos that makes up life. I don't get "me" time. I don't get to make decisions by myself. I don't get to enjoy something that's just mine. For now, it's all shared with my family, and maybe that's as it should be.

But there' s a part of me that misses the old me. The Me who could make an instant decision. The Me who could give you an opinion and spout various facts to support that opinion. The Me who could get frustrated and lose her temper. The Me who was Just Me.

I'm wondering if there will ever come a time when I can reintroduce the Old Me to the New Me, and they will peacefully co-exist.

Or is the Old Me really gone forever, and I should just learn to move on?

Maybe You Can Explain To Me...

2009-11-03T08:25:00.000-08:00

How a four-month-old can create more laundry than 2 adults.

How a baby can sleep through day-to-day noises such as a ringing phone, vacuum cleaner, and dog barking, but will awaken and cry out once Mom sits down to eat a meal.

Why no one ever tells you that baby dookie can be green, projectiled, and/or smell bad enough to make the dog run into the other room and rub his nose in the carpet for several minutes.

How a baby can fall asleep at 6pm, and sleep until 6am the following morning, and the diaper manages to hold the resulting backlog. No leaks. Impossible, you say? I call it a miracle.

How a baby can have 300 teething rings lying around the house, but still prefers to knaw on your hand or fingers to alleviate teething pains.

How a baby can poop on you, spit up on you, knaw on you, and head butt you (gaining control of those neck muscles is a tricky business), and yet you're still glad to see the little tyrant every morning.

If you know the answers, please let me know. You are waaaay smarter than I am.

I Get It

2009-10-28T16:14:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, in a galaxy far, far away, when I was a teenager, my mother and I used to get into many arguments. Mostly they were about the fact that I wasn't allowed to do anything, and that she didn't trust me enough to let me go wherever I wanted with whomever I wanted whenever I wanted. In short, I thought she was extremely unreasonable. When I expressed my displeasure with her, and asked her why she was being so difficult, she would look at me with a weird expression, then say quietly, "You'll see. One day you'll be a parent, and you'll know why."

Well, after many years and 1 daughter later, I will say the words my mother has been longing to hear me say: I get it. I now understand.

I understand the overwhelming and complete love you feel for your child. You will do anything for her. The first time you hold her tiny hand and look into her trusting eyes, your primal instinct to protect and nurture her completely overwhelms you. You are now responsible for this tiny being, and it is a terrifying and humbling thought.

I understand the gut-wrenching, paralyzing fear. The fear that she will stop breathing in the middle of the night. That masked ninja terrorists will break into her nursery and steal her away. That she will be diagnosed with some horrible illness, and I will be powerless to make her better. It's a fear that never, never goes away.

I understand the primal urge to protect her. Everyone and everything is now a threat (real or imagined makes no difference). It's not that you don't want her to enjoy things and experience life. It's just that you have seen what people can sometimes do, and you vow to do whatever is necessary to keep those threats at bay. No threat is too small. You rely much more on your mom radar - and if someone doesn't "feel" right, if you have a "sense" about someone that you don't like, you follow it. When you're a parent, there is no such thing as a "bad" gut-feeling. You don't take chances with your child - ever.

And so, many years from now, when my daughter and I are arguing about her "freedom", about why I'm so insistant on meeting all her friends, and knowing where she's going and when she's coming home, I'm sure I'll be saying "One day, you'll see." And just like I did all those years ago, I'm sure she'll roll her eyes, sigh, and say, "Whatever."

And many years after that fateful day, she'll be writing her own "I Get It" blog. And revenge will be mine.

Guitar Hero Saga

2009-10-18T08:37:00.000-07:00

As most of you know, my husband is a HUGE gamer. He's got every console (Playstation, XBox, Wii, etc.), and he's in the process of upgrading parts to his PC to better handle the newer games coming out during the holidays.

On a regular basis I am treated to a play by play narration on his latest gaming experience, the newest games coming out, or the latest and greatest upgrades for his various consoles.

Generally, I don't mind any of this. Games are his passion, and he has the right to enjoy them.

The problem is that he is constantly trying to convert me into being a big gamer, too. Now, I do play games, but most of the ones I play are adventure/hidden object/mysteries, etc. Basically, the low grade games that don't require a lot from my computer, or a lot of time from me.

Once Guitar Hero came out, he started lobbying for us to get it, so we would have something to play together. I took one look, and said no. I had no intention of spending any of my time trying to be a rock star. Let the teenagers have it, I said. I wanted no part of it.

Well, Big Dave kept up his campaign for months. He eventually bought one for his game room, where it has sat mostly untouched. I kept up my resistance, more as a matter of principle than anything else.

About a week ago we were at Walmart, as Big Dave was on the hunt for a PC game. I stayed in the car with Kaylee while he went inside. When he came out of the store, though, the box he carried was WAY larger than any PC game. He strolled up to the van with a big smile on his face. He opened the door and showed me the box, proudly proclaiming, "I bought something for you! I saw it and I automatically thought of you!"

It was the Guitar Hero set for the Wii, complete with guitar and game.

I was speechless. He bought it for me? Has he not been listening to me at ALL during the last few months? Did he think for some reason my continuous NO! really meant Yes?

I waited for him to explain.

"They were on sale - only $20 for the whole box! I thought what better time to get you to try it than now, when it was so cheap! I think once you try it, you'll like it."

Again, I was speechless. I knew perfectly well he didn't get it for me. He got it because (A) it WAS so cheap,and (B) he really likes playing things on the Wii.

But in the interest of marital harmony, I said no more. I agreed to try the game once, and if I didn't like it, for any reason, the matter would finally be put to rest. No more bothering me about trying the stupid game.

Once home, we set it up, and Big Dave handed me the guitar. He started me off on easy mode, and I chose three songs.

By the end of those three songs, I was hooked. Damn that game.

I can't get the songs out of my head, and I find myself trying to practice my guitar finger moves on flat surfaces like the dining room table. Damn that man.

Now my husband has been gloating (albeit quietly) around the house, singing the familiar phrase of "I told you so". Fortunately, he is too nice of a person to gloat too long or too much. But it's gloating nonetheless.

Fortunately, I know when to take my lumps when necessary. I've let him gloat, for now.

But the next time we go head to head on Guitar Hero, I plan on wiping the floor with him.

My Life So Far

2009-10-06T16:00:00.001-07:00

Editors Note: The Innocent Bystander is taking the week off from blogging. Her daughter will be filling in for her.

Hello Everyone.

My name is Kaylee Savannah. I've only been in this world for a little over 3 months, so I'm relatively new at all of this, but I'm learning fast.

Many people have asked me how things have been going so far.

Well, I gotta tell ya, I'm enjoying myself. I have 2 people who cater to my every whim and need 24/7 (which include, but is not limited to, maid service, valet service, catering service, and bath service). Every time I go into town, I get all sorts of admiring glances and gentle pats on the head. People make a fuss over me wherever I go, and I love it.

I've gotten very curious about my surroundings, so much so that I don't like being confined to my car seat or stroller. I want to be out where I can see everyone and everything, where I don't miss an admiring glance or compliment. After all, I AM the star of the show.

It has been hard work, though, this experience called life. I've had to train two very inexperienced and slow-witted rookies (aka Mom and Dad) to respond to my needs and wants, and it's taken a while to get them into a fully cooperative state. At first they couldn't distinguish my hunger cries from my wet diaper cries from my gassy stomach cries. They would mix up the hunger cry with the diaper cry (and they don't sound anything alike!) They didn't know that you could change a diaper, then have to change another diaper just 5 minutes later. They weren't aware that I could create so much laundry. They had no idea that there is no such thing as nap time, and that I would only sleep when I was darn well ready to. Imagine that!
The rookies don't seem to be especially bright, but they are trying, and they sure seem to think the world of me. I think that with another few months of training, I'll have them right where I want them.

A few days ago I rolled over for the first time, but got caught up in the slats on my crib, and couldn't roll myself back, so I had to holler for Mom to come rescue me. She came right away, of course, and then I made her change me and get me a bottle. Then she sat down in the rocker chair and spent a long time talking and singing to me. I like it when Mom talks to me. It makes me feel like I'm part of something special. So to let her know she was doing a good job, I gave her a great big smile and a giggle. She seemed to like that, because she gave me a kiss and a hug, and told me how happy she was I was here. It was a great moment. So great, in fact, that I didn't even tell her I had to be changed again. She figured it out on her own. Eventually.

He Says, She Hears... She Says, He Hears...

2009-09-27T13:30:00.001-07:00

Like most couples, Big Dave and I sometimes don't speak the same language.

For example, we are trying to decide on a new TV. Since Big Dave is the one who's in-the-know in the technology department, he has subjected me to long "discussions" about the benefits/disadvantages to various TVs.

He says, "Panasonic - VIERA 50" Class 1080p 600Hz Plasma HDTV with 3 HDMI outputs and built in HDTV tuner."

I hear, "..............TV...... tuner"

He says, "Should we go with Plasma, LCD or LCD LED?"

I hear, "..............................." Then I just stare at him with a blank look. I hope that will convince him to leave me out of it, as I know perfectly well any suggestion I make will be ignored by a man in the middle of "New TV Euphoria."

The tables are turned, however, when we are discussing financial matters. He usually leaves all the planning/investing up to me, but I do try to include him in the big decisions.

I say, "I know the markets are not really reliable right now, but maybe we should look at some mutual funds, ROTH IRAs and overseas CAP accounts in order to better diversify. What do you think?"

He hears, "....markets.... funds...."

He then says, "Yeah, I think we should open up a money market fund."

Again, I stare at him with a blank look.

In another example, my husband, like most men, is not very diligent when it comes to cleaning/organizing the house. Things can pile up very quickly, and he's perfectly content to let it pile up until (A) we can no longer enter the room or (B) we can no longer open the closet door. So I'll casually mention that something needs to be cleaned.

I say, "We really need to do something about the master closet. How about if you take a couple of minutes and sort through your clothes and get rid of the ones you don't wear anymore? I'll do the same for mine."

He hears, "............................."

The closet remains untouched 2 weeks later.

We may not speak the same language sometimes, but we usually know the most important things to say to one another. "I love you. I appreciate you. I worship the quicksand you walk on."

Because of that, life is good.

Trials and Tribulations

2009-09-21T16:45:00.000-07:00

Ever have one of those weeks when everything seems to go wrong? That you can't seem to do anything fast enough or good enough?

If so, welcome to my world this week.

We've been trying to solve our daughter's gas problems by switching her to soy formula. It worked. No more gas. Unfortunately, soy caused her to be constipated. Bad for baby, REALLY bad for us. There is nothing sadder than a 2 month old's cry after she tries pushing out a hard poop. Once we figured out what the problem was, we switched her back to her old formula, only to have the gas return. So now we have to deal with about 3 hours of colic everyday, because poor Kaylee has such bad gas pains (and yes, she is on the "gassy" formula, but it doesn't seem to do a whole lot).

Then, we ran into a problem with our well, as we lost water pressure for the house. That meant no water coming into the house. We then discovered that our stored water was expired, and so had to make an emergency run for bottled water. The person who was left behind had to deal with prime-time colic all on their own. Needless to say, not a good evening.

Then we had to fight with our insurance company. They wanted to classify my emergency c-section as "elective surgery", which means they don't have to pay for it. So after many phone calls to doctors, insurance company, insurance broker, and hospital, we finally got that cleared up (fingers crossed). We hope.

I'm thinking of running away to join the circus. Anyone care to join me?

Have a Nice Day

2009-09-08T05:59:00.000-07:00

Big Dave and I went shopping yesterday, to pick up a few items for the kid. (Those of you with children will understand what a chore it can be to load up the baby, baby supplies, stroller and various paraphanalia).

Upon reaching the checkout, the clerk asks for our phone number. I tell her we don't give out that information. Clerk gives me a funny look, then says, "Oh we don't sell the info or anything. We just use it to track where our customers come from, and we send you coupons and such for your future visits." Once again, I tell her we don't give out that information. Again, I get a funny look, as if the clerk is wanting to say, "For heaven's sake, just give me the phone number -- everyone else does. Why are you being so difficult?"

This has been one of my pet peeves for a long time. Within the last few years, it seems more and more stores are asking for information they have no business getting, whether it be a phone number, zip code, or email address.

And whenever I protest that they don't need the info, I'm usually given "the look", which generally translates into "This is the way business is done now. We need your info so we may better annoy you, bombard you with junk mail, and send you unwanted email. Please cooperate so we may make even more money by selling your information to our partners."

I cannot begin to tell you how many times I've been "reassured" by clerks that the info is never sold to anyone else, and yet how often it corresponds to an increase in unwanted mail by 3rd parties. Hmmm...

So our Standard Operating Procedure is now to deny any company any information they don't need to know. Meanwhile, I'll continue to get "the look", the sighs, the eye rolling, and other rude gestures from clerks.

I guess in today's corporate world, this is the new "Have a Nice Day."

The Totem Pole

2009-08-28T15:41:00.000-07:00

Before our daughter was born, it was well known we had several pets, and our fellow townspeople always asked after them. The banks always gave Koda several dog treats (a small handful whenever he came with us on errands into town), the post office employees always asked after our feline roommates, and members of our exercise club always wanted to know how our "furry kids" were doing in spite of our role as "parents". Whenver my mother called, she would ask after the pets first. We were always an afterthought. Sad, but true.

So my husband and I started joking that we were definitely at the bottom rung of the totem pole, since we were obviously not the most popular inhabitants of our home.

Now that our daughter is here, the positions on the Totem Pole have once again shifted. Now, it goes from Kaylee, to Koda, to the cats, and finally, to us. We know our place in this world (albeit it's subterranean), and we have been resigned to the fact that in the eyes of most of the people we know, we will just never matter as much as the kid, the canine and the felines.

There is a bright side to this situation, though.

We can get any lower than we already are. There is some comfort in that.

Not much, but some.

Canine Loyalties

2009-08-21T07:24:00.000-07:00

We've had our dog, Koda, for several years. We got him when he was just a tiny 8 week old puppy and could fit in the palm of your hand. During his puppy stage, we spent hours training him the basic commands, teaching him to hold "it" until he was outside, nurturing him, nursing him after his allergic reaction to his puppy shots, etc. In short, he was our baby, and we did everything we could to ensure his happiness and health.

As he grew up, we bought him the best (ie: expensive) dog food, as recommended by the vet. We made sure he had his yearly vet visits and shots. We spent a fortune on chew toys and bones, in an effort to save our furniture and shoes.

Somehow, as he grew up, he became a mommy's boy. He became completely loyal to me. He followed me around the house, always laid at my feet while I was working at the computer, always wanted to sit beside me on the couch. I figured that kind of loyalty would last a lifetime.

I was wrong.

As soon as our daughter came home from the hospital, Koda immediately took a shine to her. He alerts us to her cries (not that we can't hear her ourselves!), he lays across her nursery door, he licks her feet while we are feeding her. He has now become HER dog. He is fiercely protective of her. If she cries, he is right there, upset and wanting to comfort her. If she gurgles, he wants to sniff her from head to toe, to assure himself she is alright. If she sneezes, he curls up on the floor beside the chair and only gets up when we go to put her back in her crib.

I may have gained a daughter, but in the process I lost a dog, and I don't know how or why it happened.

There is a bright side to it all, though. He will be a 24/7 guardian for her. I know I will never have to worry about her because he will be right there with her, protecting her. They will become best friends.

As a Mom, the most rewarding part of it all for me will be the fact that my daughter will come to know unconditional love. She will know the joy that comes from loving an animal, and having that love returned ten-fold. She will be taught the value of being kind to all living things. And she will be blessed with constant companionship.

It doesn't get any better than that!

When are you going to...??

2009-08-10T15:49:00.001-07:00

When I think back over the momentous occasions in my life, I discovered there have been too many times when I've heard the old "When are you going to..." by well-meaning but nosy people.

It seems that no matter what milestone I reached, it wasn't good enough. Reaching for the next one seemed to be the constant expectation from everyone around me.

Headed for college? Choose a major before you choose a college. No, not THAT major.
In college? Find a steady boyfriend. Don't want a steady boyfriend? What's wrong with you? You are nothing if you don't have a steady boyfriend.
Have a boyfriend? Get married. Don't want to get married? How can you say that?! You are nothing without a husband.
Getting married? You must have the big wedding. Don't want a big wedding? Sure you do! EVERYONE wants a big traditional wedding! It's tradition! Just do it.
Now that you're married, have a kid. You must have a kid. Don't want to have a kid? Surely you jest. Every married couple should have a kid.
Isn't pregnancy great? Isn't it a wonderous experience? No? Don't say that. How can you say that? Of course it's great! It can't be anything BUT great!
Now you have a kid. When you are going to have another one? Because really your kid should have a sibling. Start thinking about having another kid.
Isn't parenthood great? What do you mean no? Sure you are exhausted, sleep deprived, overwhelmed, and inexperienced, but it's still great. And don't you dare say otherwise.

And to be perfectly honest, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of having to explain my life choices. Tired of being made to feel like I'm less of a person because I haven't embraced the "traditional" ways of doing things. Tired of being asked questions about those choices, and not being able to tell the truth, because more often than not, people don't want to hear the truth. They want to hear the polite fiction behind the tradition.

I think the next time I get the question "When are you going to...", I'm going look them straight in the eye and dump toxic waste on them. Then I'll say, "I'll do it when you stop asking me dumb questions and leave me alone."

Enough is enough!

A Tale of Two Gizmos

2009-07-27T06:31:00.000-07:00

Big Dave was taking out the trash the other day (note to self: garbage pail in baby's room needs to be emptied every day, or woe be unto the person who forgets). As he was putting the cans out by the roadside, he happened to notice two rabbits nearby. They hadn't seen him yet, so they went about their business of eating the tall grass near the well shed. He looked closer. One of the rabbits looked familiar. He inched his way over towards them. At this point, the rabbits noticed he was getting closer and became suspicious. Before they could run for the woods, Big Dave got a good look at one of them. He came running inside and announced, "I just saw Gizmo! She's right by the shed. It's got to be her! Quick, come outside and see for yourself!" So I followed him outside, but the rabbits were long gone. My husband insisted he saw Gizmo, and gave me a play-by-play of the sighting. According to him, she is much bigger now, looked healthy, and seemed to enjoy eating the wildflowers growing under the big oaks by the shed. I couldn't help but notice the sad look in his eyes. I suggested he may want to leave some veggie scraps by the shed, to try to draw her out of hiding and encourage her to stick around. But my husband said no, that she was wild now, and should find her own food. The catch in his voice was unmistakable. Over a year later, and he still misses that rabbit.
This morning I was taking out a dirty AC filter to add to our trash collection when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a couple of rabbits by the shed. Sure enough, when I got a closer look, I did see Gizmo (or maybe just one that looks like Gizmo). I stood still for a minute, just looking at her. There are few sights more peaceful than watching rabbits graze as the early morning sun rises over the oaks. Just before I went on my way, I spoke to her. "I hope you realize how much that man misses you. If it weren't for his high bid at the auction, you very well could have ended up in someone's stew pot, or been made into someone's winter coat. You could show more gratitude, you know."
The rabbits continued eating. They seemed to be unimpressed by my little speech.

I sighed. Another day had begun.

What No One Ever Tells You About Parenthood

2009-07-20T06:38:00.000-07:00

1. I never thought I would be so happy to see someone poop (our daughter pooped for the first time while we were trying to give her a bath -- over a week after she was born).

2. Laundry is now a daily instead of a weekly chore. Who would've thought something so small could create so much mess?

3. Babies are psychic. They know when you are thinking about taking a nap, catching up on chores/paperwork or just taking a break. That's when they'll cry for no reason other than to keep you from doing anything constructive. Our daughter has become a master at this.

4. Meals become something to gulp down, rather than taste.

5. Everyone who volunteered to babysit/help before the baby was born disappears once the baby arrives.

6. People with no children are quick to tell you what you are doing wrong with your child. People with children are quick to tell you their baby horror stories. And everyone is quick to dismiss your feelings if you don't paint a rosy glowing picture of early parenthood.

7. You will never experience unconditional love like being up a 4 am with your newborn, convinced you will never sleep again, when your child looks at you, smiles, and grabs your finger. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, nothing else matters. She is all that is good and pure and worthwhile in the world. She is the reason you were born. She is wonderful, frustrating, delightful, and maddening. And you realize - she is yours, forever.

Baby Pool

2009-06-08T08:24:00.001-07:00

A good friend of ours has "suggested" (demanded, actually) that we start a baby pool, whereby everyone can submit their guesses as to when the baby will be born, weight, height, etc. So, we are now offically announcing the start of the "Welcome to the World, Baby Big!" contest. We're taking guesses on the following stats:

Sex of Baby
Weight of Baby
Height of Baby
Date of Birth
Time of Birth

The person(s) with the most correct guesses will get a mystery gift, as well as bragging rights. You can submit your guesses via email or comment on this blog. We'll announce the winner after the arrival of Baby Big

Baby Big in 4-D!

2009-06-04T08:50:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we traveled to Tampa to have a 4-D sonogram done. We'd like to introduce you to the many faces of Baby Big (Week 35):

This is his/her "suckin' on a lemon" face, AKA grumpy pants

because apparently he/she didn't like being photographed.

"The Thinker". Probably trying to figure out a way to bust out of his/her tight space.

The Contortionist. Trying to itch his/her nose with the foot. We had a heck of a time
getting him/her to move the foot so we could get a good look at the face.

Hope you enjoy. Our next regular ultrasound is next week, so we'll post updates then.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

2009-05-30T09:28:00.000-07:00

Right now, if someone gave me the choice between a good night's sleep and having Big Dave, Big Dave would probably win out, but I would think long and hard about the choice first.

Baby Big has decided he/she will remain active all day and all night long, giving me no peace. If it's not the baby's constant movement keeping me up, it's the 3,000 trips to the bathroom, the 3-4 snack attacks in the middle of the night, or the soul-searing, gut wrenching heatburn.

When I finally drag myself out of bed in the morning, I am greeted by a smiling, well-rested Big Dave, who cheerfully asks me if I slept well. I attempt a snarl, a glare, some kind of facial expression to signify my displeasure, but all I can usually manage is a snort, followed by a glazed stare from under half raised eyelids.

The father of this child then smiles, hugs me, then says, "Baby Big giving you trouble again? Well, that's all part of the process, isn't it?"

Any man who can say that to a non-caffenated, sleep-deprived, swollen-footed, achy pregnant woman is a brave man. Smart, no. But brave indeed.

What is Love?

2009-05-25T16:05:00.000-07:00

Many years from now, my son or daughter will come to me with the age old questions:

How do you know you're in love? How do you know when someone is "the one?"

And I will tell them:

Does their happiness mean more to you than your own? Are they the first thing you think about when you wake up in the morning, and the last thing you think about when you go to sleep?

Will they be the one standing right beside you, holding your hand during the unexpected trip to the emergency room? Will they be the first one to cheer your accomplishments, the first one to comfort you in times of saddess or failure? Will they be in the doctor's office when you're given bad news, and, once outside the doctor's office, will they hold you while you cry? Would you do the same for them?

It's love when you watch them get sick, then clean up the mess without a second thought. It's love when you serve them the last piece of pie. It's love when you give them the TV remote control.

You're in love when you have seen all the other person's faults and shortcomings, and in spite of, or maybe because of them, you still can't imagine your life without them.

You're in love when you'd rather end the argument and make up than be proven right.

You'll know they're the one because after meeting them, you will feel like a whole person -- that the missing half of you has finally been found, and you'll never take that forgranted.

Mostly, I will smile and tell them, "You'll just know. The same way your Dad and I did."

8 Weeks and Counting!

2009-05-17T12:51:00.000-07:00

As of Thursday, we only have 8 weeks until Baby Big arrives, so we are trying to get the rest of the baby chores done. We have a meet and greet with a pediatrican at the beginning of the week, a birthing class later on in the week, and some final touches to complete the nursery. Eight weeks still seem like a long ways away to me, but then again, this last week flew by at an alarming rate, so maybe it will pass quicker than I think.

Big Dave and I did find out some distressing news, though. Turns out, I have gestational diabetes. So we have to go back for a consult visit with the Shands people and meet with a dietician to develop a new diet plan for me. Just what I didn't need or want, but at least it was caught early enough so that with diet changes the baby and I should be fine. At this point, they don't see insulin being needed. And after I deliver, the diabetes should disappear too. The most distressing thing about it all, though, is that subsequent pregnanies, if any, are at higher risk for diabetes as well. Disappointing news, but at least everything still seems to be right on target with Baby Big.

Our last ultrasound was on Saturday, and Baby Big weighed in at 4 lbs 1 oz (according to the size of the femur). With 8 weeks to go, and the baby gaining about a 1/2 pound a week, he/she is expected to be around 8 pounds at birth. Oh boy.

Also on Saturday Big Dave and I had some professional pregnancy photos taken. They show off the pregnant belly, and will probably be the last photos of "just the two of us". We'll be emailing those out later on in the week, as well as the best of the ultrasound photos, so keep an eye open for 'em!

Why I Dislike Doctors

2009-05-12T13:48:00.000-07:00

A group of doctors got together one day for lunch. They started discussing some of their more interesting cases when one doctor brought the subject of pregnant women.

"You know, I've noticed that women go through a lot during their pregnancies, what with morning sickness, aches, pains, heartburn, etc. But I don't think they go through nearly enough. Is there any way we can make it more difficult for them?"

A second doctor chimed in. "Why, you know I believe I have the answer. I've developed a blood test for pregnant women to test their glucose levels."

The third doctor asked, "But what is so difficult about a simple blood test?"

The second doctor smirked, then said patronizingly, "It's not a simple test. First, I tell the women they cannot eat any food for 12 hours."

The first doctor said, "Oh, that's good. A pregnant women who doesn't eat for 12 hours. If she's not nauseous enough, she soon would be. Brilliant!"

The second doctor continued. "Then, when her stomach is churning and complaining, I make her drink a very syrupy glucose mixture that tastes horrible and gives her heartburn while it travels to the stomach."

The fourth doctor smiled. "That's absolutely cruel and mean. And I like it!"

The second doctor continued. "But wait. The best part is yet to come. While she is getting sick from the drink, she must have blood drawn."

The first doctor gaped in admiration. "You mean you stick a needle into her while she's trying to keep from tossing her cookies? Now THAT's a great idea!"

The second doctor bowed his head in modesty. "But not just once. She must have blood drawn every hour for THREE hours. And she must have blood drawn at the beginning of the whole ordeal. So she must be stuck FOUR times in three hours."

The other doctors around the table start applauding. A chorus of "well done!" "bravo" and "good show old man!" can be heard from across the room.

After the noise dies down, the fourth doctor asked, "And after all that, what do you do for an encore?"

The second doctor cackled maniacally and said, "Why, I make her pay an outrageous sum of money for the privilege, of course!"

The table exploded with more laughter. Then all the doctors sit back and relax.

Yes, a capital idea, they were all thinking. It's amazing what one can learn from one's peers.

Now, it's possible I could have make up the preceding conversation.

It's possible that the doctor who developed the three hour glucose test wasn't a maniacal, evil, Nazi-like little gnome. I have no proof that he was.

But then again, I have no proof that he wasn't, either.

A Last Hurrah

2009-05-02T06:57:00.000-07:00

Big Dave and I spent the last few days in St. Augustine, as a last just-the-two-of-us vacation before Baby Big arrives. The weather was perfect, and we had a great time, walking the "old city" section and eating our way from one end of the city to the other. I finally had the opportunity to try some gelatto (an Italian ice cream), and enjoyed some chocolate from both Kilwin's and Rocky Mountain Candy Factory. We toured Flagler College and the old Castillo de San Marcos fort. We also went on two ghost tours (you can't visit the oldest city in the US without going on at least one ghost tour). But since I get tired very easily, we had to limit our daily excursions, so we also spent a lot of time around the hotel pool. The pool was Baby Big approved.

The next few weeks will be busy with birthing classes, dr's visits (our next ultrasound is in mid-May), and final preparations in the nursery. We'll also start interviewing for pediatricians. I get tired just thinking about it all! : )

Meanwhile, the furry kids have been teaming up to try to break into the nursery. They see us bringing new items into the room, and they see us spending more and more time in the room (which used to be the guest room), so naturally they want to investigate this strange turn of events. When they see us head for the room, they bolt for the door, and try to squeeze their way through once the door is opened. You woudn't think an 18 pound cat would try to squeeze through an a 2 inch opening, but try they do. They are slowly getting the idea that they will not be allowed in the room, but they are very resentful for now. But once that room is occupied by a crying infant, I don't think it will take much to convince them to stay away. One whiff of a smelly diaper, and the romance will be gone.

Back to School

2009-04-16T10:17:00.000-07:00

Tonight Big Dave and I will be attending a baby care class, courtesy of the hospital where I will be delivering. The class is designed to show parents the proper care and feeding of their newborn. Since Big Dave and I know nothing about this subject, it will be interesting to see how we fare compared to the other parents-to-be. I will be documenting Big Dave's attempts at diaper changing, and possibly posting the results on YouTube. He in turn will videotape my attempts at swaddling. It probably won't be pretty, but it will be highly amusing for everyone else.

We have not set foot in a classroom since we graduated college, many years ago. Will there be homework? Will it be a pass/fail, where you can't take the baby home until you master the art of burping? I hope not, or I think we're screwed.

The class is only one night, but it's three hours long. How can we possibly learn everything we need to learn about infants in three hours??!?! Do we come home and practice on our other "kids"? Start diapering the dog? Spoon feed and burp the cats?

I know a large part of parenting is simply getting in there and doing it. Once the kid is home, hopefully the thousand-year-old hard-wired motherly instincts will kick in and I'll be able to do all the things required. Or, maybe my wires will short out and the kid will take one look at me and think, "Can you really be THAT incompetent?" Yes. Yes I can.

Cat Wars Episode 6,729

2009-04-09T14:46:00.000-07:00

We have a lot of empty boxes in our house right now, thanks to the arrival of various nursery items. The boxes range in size from very large and narrow (crib) to small and square (breast pump). No matter what the size, no matter how much packing material is jammed inside, the cats have declared civil war in an effort to determine who gets which box. It doesn't matter that there are more boxes than cats, and that each cat could easily claim 2 boxes as their own.

I'll set the scene for you. Picture it:

The Living Room. 10:30 am. Empty boxes lined up along 2 walls. Four cats are eyeing the boxes with mild interest. They creep closer. Investigate. Their interest increases. Test the flaps to see if getting inside the box is possible. One cat successfully manages to enter a box. The others are now jealous. They try to follow suit, only to be stopped by Cat #1, who insists box belongs to him. Boxing matches ensue. Tempers flare. Then another cat realizes "hey, there are other boxes here. I'm going to check it out. You guys can argue. I'm outta here." From the nursery (where we are hard at work putting together the crib), we hear a crash, then the sound of a cat trying to unsuccessfully run fast on terrazzo flooring. We hear the thuds as the cat crashes into chairs, walls, and finally silence. I come out to investigate. What used to be a tidy pile of boxes along one wall has now become the scene of a natural disaster. Boxes are everywhere. Packing material covers the couches, and 3 suspects are hiding under a blanket. They each try to maintain an innocent look, but fail miserably. The 4th suspect is nowhere to be found, but assumed to be on the lam.

I return to the nursery to give an update on the condition of the living room. Husband stops work on crib. Sighs. Asks "Why don't we use some of the boxes to package up the those demon spawns and send them to Guam? Life would be much simplier." I think about it for a minute. Tempted. Sorely tempted. But then I remind hubby that it would probably be illegal, and the cost of shipping would be substantial.

He sighs again. "Yeah, you're probably right." He continues work. A few minutes pass. Then he look up at me again. "You know, they're probably just training us for what we can expect with a toddler."

Oh no.

Crazy Thoughts

2009-04-01T08:20:00.000-07:00

This morning Big Dave sent me a link to a movie trailer. He thought it would be something we could see this weekend. Since he was having some trouble making sure the email went through, he logged onto my email to verify the link was there. While in my email account, he observed a little box in the corner which stated something like, "Someone has a crush on you. Click here to find out who!"

He called me into the office. "Hey, babe, come check out your email. There's something you should see." He had a funny look on his face.

I waddled in. "What is it?"

"Something interesting you might want to check out."

I sat down at the laptop, and checked the date. Yep, April 1st. "It's not an April Fools joke or anything, is it?" I eyed him suspiciously.

"I don't think so." He paused for a second. "I'm not sure."

"So it's not something you sent me?"

"No, I had nothing to do with it."

So I opened up my email and saw the box. "Crush? What in the world?"

He leaned over my shoulder. "So someone has a crush on my wife. This should be interesting."

"This has got to be some mistake. No one I know would have a crush on me, and if it's a stranger, they can stay unknown to me."

"Go ahead and click. Let's see who it is."

Turns out, it was a banner ad for a new type of dating/singles forum. I knew there was a logical explanation. But the funniest part of the whole thing was the look of enormous relief on Big Dave's face when he realized it was nothing.

That shocked me. Here sat my best friend and the love of my life, the father of my child, the fixer of my computer, and he could actually think for one millisecond that I might EVER entertain the notion of being with anyone else.

"You didn't actually think I would ever step out on you, did you?" I laughed.

He smiled sheepishly. Then rubbed my bulging 6-month belly. "I would hope not."

"Babe, you know better than that. Why would I go out for hamburger when I have filet mignon at home?" I kissed him.

He grinned. "Just wanted to make sure." He left the room.

While most of me was suprised at his reaction, a small part of me was pleased. After 15 years together, he still got jealous.

What a crazy world!

Unreasonable Hostility

2009-03-27T09:33:00.001-07:00

I hate skinny young women. They should be locked up somewhere and the key thrown away.

I recently discovered this hidden well of hostility during a shopping trip to the mall. Every time I saw a PYT in a skimpy outfit, it was all I could do not to reach out and smack her. For every group of giggling teenage girls I encountered, I wanted to throw a bucket of paint on their immaculate hair and outfits and cackle manically. And don't get me started on the ones who display a g-string hanging out of their tight jeans.

I'm not proud of this new hostility. I'm not even sure where it's really coming from. Six months ago, I WAS a skinny "young" woman. Now, I waddle when I walk.

And I know weight gain is a big part of pregnancy. But I guess I didn't realize just how much the weight gain would affect EVERY aspect of my life. I'm clumsier (I seem to drop everything I pick up), I'm slower (it takes me 5 minutes to get out of bed), I'm intellectually dimmer (it took me a full minute to remember my husband's name). Bending over is unwise, if not impossible at times. If I drop something, chances are 50-50 I will be able to retrieve it without Big Dave's help. The cats are no use in this department. They just sit and stare at me, mocking me. I can see it in their eyes. Oh, yes, they love to judge me now.

I used to be full of get-up-and-go and rush around to finish the day's tasks. Now I consider it a day's success if can get even one task completed.

But the really strange thing is, honestly I don't mind. Yes, it bugs me a little, but it's not a huge factor in the dailly scheme of things. Because when I feel baby punch and kick, when Big Dave puts his hands around the bulging belly and says, "Hey you in there. You better be nice to your mama!" I know this is all for something bigger than myself or Big Dave. And come July, we'll be introduced to that "something" and see that all our efforts have paid off.

Besides, I know that in 10 years or so, most of those girls will be in the same position I'm in now. And that makes me smile. And cackle. Possibly even chuckle.

Do you think that makes me a bad person?!?! : )

You know it's not going to be a good day when...

2009-03-19T15:03:00.000-07:00

1. The maternity underwear you bought only 2 weeks ago no longer fits. How is THAT possible?
2. You pull on your pants, and discover a huge rip all across the backside.
3. Morning sickness subsides only to be replaced by heartburn and headache.
4. Someone left the nursery door open, and the cats have pulled out all the baby clothes and spread them across the floor. No reason. Just because they could.
5. The cats are using your nursing bras to help pad their beds.
6. You try to prepare breakfast only to drop the toast, butter, jelly, cereal, milk and OJ on the floor.
7. You stare at hubby for a full minute before you can remember his name.

(SIGH) Some days are just not worth getting out of bed for. This is one of them.

Conversations with Baby-To-Be

2009-03-12T07:56:00.000-07:00

As I progress week by week in this journey called pregnancy, I find myself reading up on the developmental stages of the kid. It's amazing how fast it has grown, and will continue to grow in such a short amount of time. According to the experts, it can now hear and feel outside stimuli. It can basically experience what I experience, only on a much smaller (and quieter) level. So it can hear our voices, it can feel our touch (when Big Dave pokes at the belly), and it has preferences as to food and drink choice.

As interesting as this may be, this is where some problems come into play. Because what I want is not necessarily what the kid wants, and vice versa. Come breakfast time, the kid demands orange juice. Problem: orange juice gives me heartburn. But kid doesn't rest until OJ is forthcoming. Result: I suffer heartburn for a few hours.

So, being the logical and rational person that I am (stop that snickering, please), I decided to try to reason with the kid. I talk to it. I try to make it see my side of the story. I explain calmly and carefully the reasons behind my decision. A typical conversation goes something like this:

ME: Hey, you. We need to talk. (I either poke or rub the belly as I talk)
KID: (KICK)
ME: I know you are wanting some ice cream, but right now I think we need to eat some fresh fruit. It's healthier for us. We need the vitamins and nutrients.
KID: (HARDER KICK)
ME: In order for you to grow stronger and healthier, we need to eat good food. Ice cream is not good food.
KID: Stillness, at first, then (PUNCH).
ME: You can be mad all you like, but we will not eat ice cream. How about a nice apple instead?
KID: (HARD KICK TO TENDER STRETCHING MUSCLES)
ME: That's not a very nice thing to do to Mommy. Stop that.
KID: (HARD PUNCH)
ME: I mean it. If you don't settle down, you'll never get ice cream again.
KID: Movement stops.

I eat the apple, but all the while feel kicks, punches and otherwise distracting movement from the kid. After a couple of hours of constant movement, I give up.

ME: Ok, if I give you some ice cream, will you let me have some peace and quiet?
KID: (Quiet as a church mouse)
ME: And you promise to remain quiet for several hours? No kicking, no punching, just quiet?
KID (Silence)
ME: All right, I will eat ONE scoop of ice cream. One scoop for at least 2-3 hours of quiet time. That's the deal. Agreed?
KID: (One small, barely felt punch)

There is no doubt in my mind -- this kid is all me.

Poor Big Dave.

Baby Naming Contest

2009-03-08T18:12:00.000-07:00

A debate has been raging at our house for the last month or so, and it looks like we'll need your help to bring about a peaceful end.

We have not been able to agree on a boy's name for the kid. We have had several discussions about this, but they usually end with Big Dave proclaiming, "We shall name him Thor!" (or Odon, or Olaf, or Hercules or Osiris or some other ancient god-like name) He usually follows this announcement with a very evil and admirable cackle. I then produce a deep, long-suffering sigh, and say just one word - "VETO!", indicating my displeasure with his idea.

We have a girl's name all picked out, but for some reason, we cannot find common ground on the boy name. So, being the good TV-watching, capitalist Americans we are, we decided to transfer the responsibility to someone else - and that someone is you.

We are holding a baby-naming contest. We are inviting you, dear reader, to suggest a name for Baby-To-Be that might be agreeable to both Big Dave and myself. And here are the guidelines for name suggestions:

1. The kid's middle name will be David, so whatever first name you choose to submit, make sure it sounds good paired with David.
2. Forget the common names like Michael, Peter, John, etc. We're looking for something less traditional, more unique (but not so unique as to be weird)
3. It should be fairly easy to pronounce and/or spell. We don't want the kid to have a lifetime of explaining his name to strangers/child psychologists.
4. Big Dave has already suggested Eziekiel, Malachy, Jebbediah, and various other Amish/Old Testament names. They have all been vetoed, so please don't encourage him by suggesting them again.

The winner will receive a surprise gift, as well as our profound thanks and admiration. The winner will also have bragging rights and the honorary title of "uncle" or "auntie". And you will have my gratitude to finally put this debate to rest, and to keep Big Dave from suggesting any more names like "Happy Gilmore", "William the Conquerer" or "Little Willy".

I beg of you. Make him stop.

Battle of the Bulge

2009-03-02T08:17:00.000-08:00

At our house, the same thing happens every night.

Big Dave and I settle down on the couch to watch some DVRd shows. One by one, the cats jump up on the couch to join us. And one by one, they slowly meander their way to lay on top of my stomach, as they have always done. The problem is that the stomach is already occupied by baby-to-be, and can't have any additonal weight on top. So I push them off. Go back to watching the show. The cat settles at my side, seemingly happy to just be near. I become engrossed in the show again. Cat slowly inches back on top of the belly. Cat gets pushed off again. Cat gives dirty look. Walks over to Big Dave and settles on his stomach, but keeps eyeing my bulge. Big Dave and I go back to focusing on the show. Ever so slowly, millimeter by millimeter, slinks towards my stomach again. By the time the front paws are resting on my belly. Big Dave takes action. He goes to the kitchen, opens up a can of cat food. The cats, recognizing the sound of canned food, make a mad dash for their bowls in the garage. Once they have been herded into the garage, Big Dave closes off the cat door, effectively locking them in for the night. Ah, peace at last. We go back to the couch.

Koda the 67-pound Wondermutt wanders into the room and starts eyeing the warm, inviting belly....

Good to Go!

2009-02-23T06:12:00.000-08:00

Good news! The Shands dr's have cleared me to resume normal activity. Everything checked out OK at our last visit, so now I'm free to travel and do most everything I want to do. Now I have to focus on getting strong again (my legs are woefully weak). An offshoot of this announcement means that I will be able to see Robin Williams in Tampa, as discussed in a previous blog. Dave and I will be driving down to St. Pete in March to spend some time with family and friends and attend the concert. Most importantly, through, we'll be able to visit with Dave's dad, who is still recovering from his surgery. We're looking foward to having him see my expanding belly, and I'm hoping the baby's kicks will be strong enough for him to feel. I think that will give him extra motivation to work hard at his physical therapy. He'll need to be strong and healthy so that come July, he'll be able to hold his grandchild and tell him/her embarassing stories about Big Dave.

On a side note, Big Dave and I will have to start shopping for baby furniture pretty soon. Any of you who are parents, we're asking that you help us by recommending the products that you liked and worked well for you during your babyhood experience. I'm talking everything from cribs, changing tables, strollers, car seats, etc. If you really liked the product, let us know. If you really hated it, tell us why. We could use all the input we can get.

25 Things

2009-02-16T07:45:00.000-08:00

I usually ignore the latest craze/fad because usually once something has gained popularity, it doesn't interest me anymore. But I can't seem to escape this 25 Things list from Facebook. It's everywhere. And it's oddly fascinating. The whole idea is to make a list of 25 things that people don't know about you or would be surprised to learn about you, and post it on your Facebook page. Since I don't have a Facebook page, and will never have a Facebook page, I'm posting it here instead. My hope is that by doing this, I can finally cleanse myself of this Facebook mania.

And so, for your viewing and mocking enjoyment, here's 25 Things About Me, Myself and I.

I’m terrified of snakes and spiders.
I once got locked into a meat freezer. With a boy. For about an hour. And I was never cold.
My first childhood crush was Richard Dean Anderson from MacGyver.
I wanted to be a dolphin trainer when I grew up.
I can wiggle my ears.
My parents nickname for me as a kid was “Petunia”
I have two cousins who were adopted from Korea.
I was on a swim team when I was in middle school. But I had to compete with the younger kids because I was so small for my age that I couldn’t keep up with my age group.
A teacher once measured my mouth (after a long and testy debate over a grade).
I once flushed my mother’s glasses down the toilet, as revenge for making me eat asparagus.
I once tried to save a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest, but I mistakenly put it in reach of my cat, Stinkerbell. RIP, my little chirper.
I once fell out of a boat and sank to the bottom of the ocean (fortunately, it was only about 10 feet deep).
I won a set of steak knives after calling into a radio show with the correct trivia answer.
I got a fat lip three times in a row, due to various altercations with my brother and his friends.
In 8th grade, I was interviewed by the St. Pete Times because of an argument I had with the mayor of Largo.
I want to get my pilot’s license.
I want to be a guest on Inside the Actor’s Studio. But I don’t want to be an actor.
My secret guilty pleasure is watching the show Bridezillas.
I’d love to be a college professor of literature or creative writing.
I sometimes drink milk right from the jug (and Big Dave doesn’t know).
I will spend hours trying to figure out why my checkbook doesn’t balance to the exact penny.
My grandfather’s nickname for me was Katarina.
I once got into a car accident with a sheriff’s deputy (their fault, not mine).
My first live concert was New Kids On The Block.
I collect Scooby Doo paraphernalia.

There ya go. If nothing else, it will provide you with more insight into my psyche. Or it will provide hours of mockable material. Either way, hope you enjoyed.

I Don't Know What I'm Doing... and it's OK.

2009-02-15T08:27:00.000-08:00

In the past few months, I've had to learn to let go of a lot of things -- physically, mentally, and spiritually. I can't control much of what happens in life. Stuff happens, and sometimes you just have to learn to roll with the punches. Make all the plans you want, but be prepared to have those plans fly right out the window. If you can't get everything on your list done today, it's OK. There's always tomorrow. And if some things never get done, or take a long time to get done, so be it. Just when you think you have life all figured out, that you know what's important, that you know your place in this world, something will happen to force you to come to terms with the fact that you really don't know what you are doing half the time (or all the time). And I've learned that it's OK. It's perfectly normal to feel lost, scared, confused, maybe even a little depressed -- sometimes all at once. The important thing is to not let these things stop you from living your life. Take risks. Regrets are harder to swallow than apologies.

I am now the first to admit when I'm unsure of something. I ask for help when I need it. I admit when I am wrong (that was a particularly tough one for me, but satisfying for my husband). Here's a shocker -- I don't have all the answers -- how about that?!?

And now my husband and I are entering into a new phase of our lives -- parenthood. And I don't know what I'm doing. And I don't know what to expect. One minute I'm very happy and excited. The next minute I'm in a panic attack, with all the what-if's racing through my mind. Will the baby be healthy? Will I be a good mom? Will I survive the delivery? Will my natural mom instincts kick in, or will I be woefully inadequate in the infant care department? Are we really ready for this responsibility? What if I ask too many "what if" questions, and my mind explodes? You have to remember that I'm the woman who didn't even know she was pregnant -- my husband knew before I did -- before the positive stick test. (That's a whole different blog).

I guess you could say that I'm just feeling a bit overwhelmed. And scared. And elated. And confused, And scared.

And it's all OK. (insert deep breath here).

Ways to Amuse Yourself for Free in a Bad Economy

2009-02-07T08:53:00.000-08:00

1. Place laundry basket of clean clothes fresh from the dryer on the floor. Stand back and watch 4 cats fight over who gets to tunnel first. This will last ALL MORNING.

2. Take old Christmas bow and tape it to dog's tail. Watch him get dizzy trying to get it off.

3. Rearrange kitchen pantry. Don't tell your spouse. Lie in wait for him to get something from the kitchen, then watch as he becomes hopelessly confused and lost trying to find anything. Cackle maniacally.

4. Watch your old DVDs over and over again until your spouse begs for mercy.

5. Fill the bird feeders. Allow cats onto porch. Watch as cats "stalk" birds by continually hitting their heads on the glass windows.

6. Go to the library. Ask librarian to look up weird book titles like "How to Dismantle An Atomic Bomb" and "The Fashion Statements of J. Edgar Hoover"and watch their reaction. (Be prepared to herald the arrival of men in dark suits who will ask you a lot of questions about your patriotism).

7. Observe hubby as he/she prepares the tax return. This can lead to some interesting word choices and or gestures. The occasional shout of "Blood Sucking Leeches!" is sure to bring a smile and/or a chuckle. Offer helpful suggestions like "Can't we list the cats as dependents and deduct them?" or "Since the dog barks at everything that comes near the house, couldn't we deduct him as a security expense?"

In case you can't tell, I'm bored. Anyone want to come over and play hide and seek with me? : ) TAG, you're it.

Free At Last! Free At Last!

2009-01-30T09:36:00.000-08:00

I am officially off bed rest. WAHOO! (insert happy dance here)

On Wednesday we had a referral appointment with the high-risk pregnancy people from Shands Hospital in Gainvesville. Since part of the original problem is still there, my obgyn felt it best to get a second opinion, and she set up the meet with Shands. They, in turn, said the the remaining problem should work itself out, and as long as I keep to minimum activity (no marathons, no lifting of medium/heavy items, no stress, etc.) I should have no further trouble. They are, as they said, cautiously optimistic at this point. But I still have several restrictions in place (no long distance travel, no medium/heavy chores, no bending, and short errands only). So all in all, good news. We don't know the sex, since we want to be surprised. All we know is the baby is healthy and right on track. That's all that matters.

In the meantime, Big Dave will need to go down to St. Pete for a few days to check up on his dad, who is currently in physical and speech therapy in an ALF. He's making progress, but he's got a long, hard road to recovery ahead of him. I was really hoping to be able to go down there with Big Dave, but that's not possible, so I'll have to settle for sending a get well card.

I'm An Idiot

2009-01-23T14:28:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I woke up about 4 am with a serious case of munchies, so I got out of bed and waddled to the fridge. Opening up the door, I noticed that the interior light did not come on. Huh, one more thing Dave'll have to fix. Nonplussed, I got out my bagel and cream cheese. Sliced the bagel, put it in the toaster, and pressed the lever. Stood by the toaster, waiting. I then noticed the clock on the stove was not lit. Great, yet something ELSE broken. Sighing, I turned my attention back to my bagel, which had not yet popped up. Strange, seems to be taking a long time, I thought. Waited another minute. Now I was getting annoyed. I started investigating the toaster. Discovered it was as cold as ice -- no heat, no toasting, no nothing. Now I was getting frustrated. After all, I just wanted a bagel -- not too much to ask for, right? So now our toaster is broken. Wonderful. That's when I noticed the house was a little cooler than normal. And the microwave light was out. And the power strip light was out.

Then it hit me. Wait a sec... could our power be out?

Well, DUH! I swear I am losing brain cells at an alarming rate. And I can't make it stop. Anyone willing to make a brain cell donation to a desperate pregnant woman?

Horror Stories Told With Glee

2009-01-19T13:26:00.000-08:00

There are many interesting facets to being pregnant - the food cravings, the unpredictable morning sickness, the unexplainable but copious amounts of gas. Yes, that's right, I have become a walking gas attack. Lucky me.

But there is one thing about pregnancy that COMPLETELY surprised me. And it's doesn't have anything to do with my pregnancy, per se. Whenever I tell someone (both friends and strangers) the "good news", I am then treated to a LONG tirade about how difficult they had it during pregnancy AND childbirth. They happily regale me with tales of their morning sickness (going into great details, and ignoring the fact that I'm getting greener as I stand there fighting off my own bout of nausea), their heartburn, and countless other ailments. The more disgusting, revolting, or bloody the problem, the happier they are to tell me all about it. And don't get me started on the birth horror stories. Needless to say, misery loves company, and these women are not afraid to tell all the details to guarantee my captivity in their company. I have wanted to shout, "I don't want to hear about it! Can't you see I'm going to puke all over you unless you let me get to the bathroom?!?" I have wanted to scream from the rooftops, "I'm sorry you had such a bad experience, but could you please be a little more considerate of my experience and STOP TALKING about it?" It's almost gotten to the point where I don't want to admit to anyone new that I'm pregnant. Instead, I just want to say, "No, I'm just getting fat. Too many Dunkin Donuts, not enough exercise." Then I can walk away in peace.

The only thing worse than experiencing morning sickness is to hear someone else describe their own morning sickness in disgustingly accurate and vivid detail.

TMI, ladies, TMI!

Robin Williams Live in Tampa!

2009-01-08T13:56:00.000-08:00

Big Dave made a surprise announcement over the holidays -- we're going to see Robin Williams live in Tampa in March. His last comedy tour was back in 2002, and I don't think he stopped anywhere in Florida then.

I'm very excited and looking forward to the show. I really need some fun, and an evening with the unpredictable Mr. Williams is just what the doctor ordered.

Hopefully all will go well with the next dr's visit, so I can go to the show.

Bring on the insanity!

Here we go again!

2008-12-31T09:45:00.000-08:00

Today I am 13 weeks along, according to yesterday's sonogram. The doc had a hard time getting a picture this time around because the little one wouldn't stop moving long enough for a clear picture to be taken. It almost looked like he/she was dancing. Either way, the good news is so far it's a very healthy and normal baby.

The bad news, I am now on modified bed rest. This basically means I am supposed to be laying down most of the time, but I can get up to do minor things, like get a meal, do paperwork or other light duties. But the doc still make it clear I was to be a couch potato as much as possible. I survived it before, and I'll survive it now, but I'm definitely not a happy camper at having another month of inactivity. It's a lot easier to get through morning sickness when you have something to occupy your mind, like work or the usual daily tasks. It's infiinitely more difficult when you have little/no distractions.

Big Dave, meanwhile, is the ultimate proud papa. He usually has a big goofy grin on his face, and he greets me every morning with a big, "Hottie mama!" We're in the process of deciding on a boy's name (we have a girl's name all picked out), but so far his suggestions have been vetoed by me. Among his offerings: Jebbediah, Eziekiel, and, my personal favorite, Long Duck Dong (fans of Sixteen Candles will understand). Who knows, we may hold a baby naming contest! Stay tuned for details!

14 Days and Counting!

2008-12-16T11:35:00.000-08:00

Only 14 days until the doctor's appointment, when hopefully I will be allowed off of bedrest. WOHOO!

What's really surprising to me, though, is how little sleep I get while on "bed rest". I have to tinkle every 2 hours. Then there's the morning sickness, which hits any time it darn well wants to, no matter how I feel on the matter. During the day there are many phone calls and other interruptions. At night, more saluting of the porcelin goddess. During the wee hours of the morning, I wake up to either tinkle or salute, sometimes both. Then I can't get back to sleep until my stomach settles down. By the time I fall asleep again, a new day has started, complete with phone calls and various issues needing to be addressed.

But there are some advantages to being on bed rest. The "kids" are infinitely happy having a human to curl up with 24/7. I've been catching up on my DVD viewing. My mother hired a cleaning service to give my house a good once over. I have not had to clean a toilet or do the dishes in over 3 weeks. Best of all, my husband has started to realiize how many "little things" I do around the house, and has started to appreciate all the time and effort I put into making things run smoother. I guess he never questioned before how the bathrooms were always stockpiled with clean towels, or how we never seemed to run out of paper towels or toilet tissue, how the clothes magically traveled from clothes hamper to clothes hanger, all clean and smelling fresh. Now he knows. And I think he's come to appreciate my lists more than ever before.

In the meantime, I anxiously await the doctor's visit and long to hear the glorious words, "Get out of bed!"

When It Rains, It Pours

2008-12-10T10:50:00.000-08:00

Another family emergency to deal with -- Big Dave's dad had open heart surgery last week to fix some blocked arteries. This forced Big Dave to go back to st. Pete for a couple of days to make sure everything went smoothly. My mom came up to take care of me. This morning we got a phone call from Big Dave's mom -- his Dad is not doing as well as expected, so he's running down there again to help his Mom with the doctors, insurance, etc.

I don't think I've ever seen Big Dave so stressed. And there's very little I can do to alleviate any of the pressures. It's such a helpless feeling, and I hate it. I'm sure when all is said and done we'll look back on these days and laugh it off, but I think we could use a few of those laughs right now.

Surprises - Good And Bad

2008-12-07T10:14:00.000-08:00

As most of you know by now, I am pregnant -- approx 9-10 weeks. We discovered this in early November when I successfully tinkled on a pregnancy test stick. To say we were thrilled is an understatement. We scheduled an appointment with the ob-gyn for the normal 12 week first prenatal at the end of December. The weeks went by with some minor morning sickness, but otherwise everything was normal.

And just when we thought everything was sailing along smoothly, there were complications, which necessitated a trip to the ER, and then a visit to the ob-gyn. Long story short, I am now on bedrest until December 30. Sounds like your idea of heaven, right? To be ordered to stay in bed and do nothing is most people's idea of the ultimate vacation. But I'm here to tell ya, it's not all it's cracked up to be. I'm used to being up and about, doing things. Even while watching TV, I'm usually wandering around the house getting minor chores done. When I have to sit still for longer than 20 minutes, I start to fidgit. I'm the planner in the family. I make the lists (chores, groceries, etc) and see they are completed. I'm constantly juggling several to-do items in my head at any given time. To be forced to relinquish control over everything to someone else is incredibly difficult. To be forced to prioritize is both humbling and frustrating.

Fortunately, I married a very good man. Big Dave has stepped up and has tackled the tasks of running the house and businesses with gusto. He cooks my meals, he brings me snacks, and he holds my hair back during my morning sickness episodes. If that's not love, than I don't know what is.

In spite of all the frustration and difficulties (I wish morning sickness would stick to a schedule, for pete's sake!), we are looking foward to the Dec 30th appointment, when we get our next ultrasound. It'll all be worth it when we see that healthy beating heart.

And the Holidays aren't even here yet!?!?

2008-11-15T09:13:00.000-08:00

It's been a crazy time around here, with some minor family issues to be dealt with. Last Sunday I get a phone call around 9am from my mom, informing me that instead of leaving Tuesday for their fall trip, they were leaving immediately, and were we ready to take their pets? So we anticipated their arrival for 3pm, and waited. And waited. And waited. Turns out, they broke down in Brooksville, and could we come rescue the pets? So we drove down to Brooksville and picked up 1 human (Mom), 1 dog and 2 cats. Dad stayed with the car to get it to the repair shop first thing Monday morning.

Monday morning arrives, with a phone call from Dad stating that the computer in the car burned out, and a new one needs to be ordered, but they can't find any in the state of Florida. It must be ordered from Georgia. Estimated date of repair completion : Wednesday. This means I have my mother in my house for 2 1/2 days. Count 'em, people. 2 1/2 days of my mother dropping cleaning hints, eating hints, lifestyle hints and otherwise getting on my last nerve. Meanwhile, the part is supposed to be overnighted on Tues, and arrive on Wed. When Wed. arrives, the tracking number for the part states the part never left Georgia. Excuse me?? After many phone calls, it was determined the part is actually in Florida and should show up by noon. Sure 'nuf, around noon the mechanic starts work on installing the new computer. None too soon, since my sanity is now at a breaking point.

Fortunately, Big Dave and I had plans to go to a play on Wed evening, so we left the house, and when we returned, the 'rents had cleared out. But not before an additional note from my mother, which read in part, "Thank you for your hospitality. Found some franks and beans growing penicillin in your fridge. Didn't know what you wanted me to do with it, so I just threw it out. Hope you didn't want it for anything."

There are so many replies to this, I wouldn't know where to start, so instead I just tore the note into little pieces and went to bed.

I don't suppose I can boycott the holidays this year. Or can I?!?!?

And the winner is...

2008-11-05T06:10:00.000-08:00

Big Dave is this year's Pumpkin Carving Champion, with his touching portrayal of a pie eating contest gone bad. He has yet to collect his prize (1 wish granted by me), but he says he will need time to come up with a good one (which not only makes me highly suspicious by also slightly disconcerted). In the meantime, we thank you for taking the time to vote.

This Halloween was different for us. For the first time in many years, we did not go to Halloween Horror Nights or Howl-O-Scream. Instead, we went to the movies, then picked up some candy and headed for the town's main street, where the annual Trail of Treats was carried out in full regala. Kids decked out in their Halloween finest (or scariest or goriest) walked the street and begged candy from the local vendors on Main Street. Since Big Dave and I live too far out in the country to get any treaters, this year we decided to bring the treats to the kids. We picked a spot on the sidewalk, then waited for the kids to come to us. Unfortunately we underestimated the amount of candy we needed, so we ran out in about 15 minutes. But now we know how to plan better for next year. The most popular costumes seemed to be fairy princess/barbie-esque gowns for the girls, and either Transformers or Star Wars for the boys. One family dressed as pirates, from Mom and Dad as Captain and First Mate, to a little boy and girl (deck hands complete with disturbing scars) to their pug dog (a pirate wench). All that was missing was a parrot.

Speaking of winners, Congrats to President-elect Barrack Obama on his historic win. While this election was certainly one of the most heated and devisive, it also had the highest voter turnout in decades. Good news for democracy. I know a lot of people waited hours in line to vote, but certainly it was worth it. Americans have the opportunity to voice their opinion and choose their leaders - a right not shared by many people around the world. And while our system is not perfect, we are fortunate to have the ability to work towards changing what we don't like. What an amazing idea!

Pumpkin Carving Contest!

2008-10-23T13:41:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again! Welcome to our annual pumpkin carving contest, the new reality blog brought to you by the makers of canned pumpkin. Ummm Ummm Good.

This year's entries, lovingly created and prepared for your enjoyment, are titled as follows:

Entry #1: The American Taxpayer's Horror - now playing in Congress.

Entry #2: Aftermath of Pumpkin Pie eating contest - A public safety message.

As usual, you pick your favorite, then vote.

And based on some of the smart alek questions we've been getting, here's a brief Q&A to get you familiar with the process:

Q: Do I vote by Entry name or Entry number? 'Cause I'd like to use #1 and #2.

A: You can do either. Just so long as we can easily identify which one you like the best. Stating "I liked the pumpkin" is not specific enough and doesn't do anyone any good. And please, no bathroom humor.

Q: How do I cast my vote?

A: You could try osmosis. Or telekinesis. Or some other form of a 'sis. Or you could just send us an email or reply to this blog. Whatever works best for you. I recommend either the blog or email.

Q: What happens after my vote is cast?

A: Well, the Great Pumpkin rises out of the pumpkin patch, travels to your house, and steals all your candy. He then will tell you stories about how he's tormented Charlie Brown all these years by not showing up on schedule. Or, maybe the vote is just recorded in our little book, and your email is erased. Could go either way. I'm not committing at this point.

Q: If I don't vote, will you never speak to me again?

A: Quite possibly. More than likely. Yeah, I'd say the chances are pretty good.

Just remember: One person, one vote. Unless you're from Chicago. Then you can vote as many times as you darn well please (apparently).

And don't worry. Katherine Harris will not be in charge of the voting process, so everything will be tallied correctly.

The polls are open until October 31st.

I'll announce the winner after Halloween. I might even post a photo of the winner doing the happy dance on my next blog. We'll see.

In the meantime, we're wishing everyone a HAPPY HALLOWEENIE! And remember: safety first. You should always volunteer to test the little kid's candy, to make sure it's safe for them. Three chocolate bars for you and one for them is a pretty fair system. Their little bodies can't handle the sugar like ours can. Their parents will thank you.

Cold Season Is Here

2008-10-15T13:34:00.000-07:00

Cold season has reared its ugly head early this year, as Big Dave has fallen into the clutches of a good old fashioned cold, complete with scratchy-throat, fever, hacking cough and chest congestion. He's spent the last two days trying to sleep as much as possible, drinking OJ and downing shot glasses of Theraflu, in the hopes of encouraging the germs to move elsewhere. I have to admit, through, he's pretty good when it comes to illness. He doesn't whine, doesn't make me wait on him hand and foot, and I don't have to nag him to take his medicine. What is funny, though, is that he seems to take illness as a personal affront. How dare these germs invade his body. The sheer audacity of an illness to even THINK of trying to attack his immune system.

Me, on the other hand, well... that's different. At the first sign of a sore throat, cough or sore muscles, I'm in bed, with the covers pulled high, whimpering. I mope around the house. I whine (Big Dave says it a cute whine, but a whine nonetheless). I leave a trail of used tissue wherever I go. (Big Dave says that's how he knows where to look for me -- just follow the Puffs Plus with aloe). I complain about feeling like death warmed over. Then Big Dave starts asking 20 questions:
Did you take your Vitamin C? No (blow nose into tissue).

Did you drink some OJ? No. (Sniffle)

Did you take any form of cold medicine? (I say nothing, just stare at him with sad, pathetic, watery eyes)

Did you at least eat some soup? It'll help your throat. Yes, that might help, but I'm too weak to walk to the microwave and heat some up. Could you...??

Here, take some Tylenol. It'll help with your fever. No it won't. Nothing will help except death. After I'm gone, promise me you'll remarry. I won't hold it against you. I just want you to be happy.

In short, I'm not a well behaved sick person. I know this. Big Dave certainly knows this. But since Big Dave is so good, I figure I have to be bad enough for the both of us.

I'm thinking we're a match made in heaven. Don't you agree?

Demanding Felines

2008-10-07T19:39:00.000-07:00

This morning my mother pulled up her email and found this message waiting for her:

To Whom It May Concern (aka Nana):

We, the felines, being of unstable minds and fat bodies, are holding the humans (aka Mom and Dad) hostage. We will release them unharmed, but most likely covered in fur, if the following demands are met:

The canine spy (code name: Koda) must go. We have been tormented by this traitor for far too long. He eats our food, he tramples us when he gets excited, and he gets too much attention from the humans. He barks at invisible things. He is afraid of thunder. He is a coward, and we refuse to be under his oversized paw any longer. Down with the dog!

We must have ample quantities of gourmet canned cat food. No longer will we be forced to endure the healthy Science Diet dry food. The humans insist it’s for our own good, but we don’t believe it. It’s a household conspiracy that must end. Let us eat Salmon Supreme!

Catnip is a right, not a treat. Let’s not be so stingy with the ‘nip.

We shall have the right to claim all beds as our own. No more sharing with the humans. All soft blankets, pillows and other comfortable items shall be our private property, and cannot be used by the humans or the canine without our express permission. Which we will never give.

Warm laps must be provided to us at all times. The bigger the lap, the better.

We shall never be discouraged from exploring snug spaces or dark corners. This includes closets, under beds, and all rooms previously off limits.

When we see a spider, scorpion or other dangerous insect, we shall have the right to give chase, capture and torment the invader. Taking it away before we are finished is very un-sportsmanlike and will no longer be tolerated.

We reserve the right to curl up on laptops and other sensitive computer equipment, even if the humans are still working with them. Especially if the humans are still working with them.

Affection shall quickly forthcoming in ample quantities. Just because the humans feel they have petted enough doesn’t mean WE feel loved enough.

And lastly,
It’ll never enough. We’ll never be fed enough, loved enough, warm enough, rested enough, admired enough, or worshipped enough. There is no such thing as “too much.” Just keep giving 110%, and we’ll let you know when you need to give more.

These are our demands. If you wish to see the humans again, you will abide by these rules from here on in. If you choose to disregard these items, we will be forced to hock a furball into your favorite shoes. Or eat your favorite plant. Or claw up your curtains. The choice is yours.

Cordially yours,

The Grandcats

Weird Dreams - Part Deux

2008-10-02T18:18:00.000-07:00

A while back I wrote a blog about some weird dreams I've had. Well, it seems I've outdone myself, as here is a list of dreams I've had in the last month:

Big Dave is Captain Kirk at the helm of The Black Pearl (from Pirates of the Carribbean),manuvering down busy Manhattan streets. He is reading the billboards from Time Square in Captain Kirk's voice -- "Macy's...Thanks..giving.....DaySale. Going-on..... now!" Needless to say, there will be no more Star Trek viewing in the house for a while.

I'm trapped in a room with three wrapped boxes on a folding table. A voice tells me if I choose the wrong box, I will never leave the room. If I choose the right box, I will never leave the room. Just as I'm about to make my choice, the voice screams, "NOT THAT ONE!" Could it be that the election is just a little too much on my mind right now?

My childhood dog, Waggles, appears at my front door. He is surrounded by a mist. When I call him, he turns away from me and looks into the darkness, like someone is calling him. When I step towards him, he steps away back into the mist. I turn to go back into the house, and he pees on my roses. Think he's trying to tell me something?? : )

I have lunch with John Cusack (my future second husband) in LA. Big Dave is his manager, and tries to get me to convince John to do this new hot movie about the life of frozen peas. But all John wants to do is eat my chicken salad, and he chews with his mouth open. Hmmm.. okay so he may not be husband material after all, but he's just so darn cute!

I'm in labor, and Big Dave is rushing me to the hospital. He pulls the car directly into the hospital lobby, and screams for a doctor. The doctor makes me lie down in the car, then tells me to push. After a minute or two, something pops out. The doctor exclaims, "Congratulations!" and holds up the newest PC game in the Call to Duty series, all gooey and slimey. Big Dave smiles and cries, "It's just what I've always wanted! Thanks, babe!" What's a wife of a game-addict to do?!?!?!

Our house is invaded by spiders, and suddenly John Goodman (ala Arachnaphobia) kicks open our door and proclaims, "This house will be cleansed," and proceeds to wage war against the spiders. When he's done, the house is covered in green slime and he hands me a bill for $10,000. Hero, or worst exterminator ever? You decide.

The Beginning of Autumn

2008-09-26T07:24:00.000-07:00

In the last couple of days, we've noticed a distinct climate change. Humidity has dropped. The air feels more inviting, and the sun less punishing. At night, we enjoy the cool air as it breezes through the porch windows.

The fireflies are starting to visit us again. We see them in the distance, flashes of light in the forest. They provide hours of entertainment for the cats.

The cats, meanwhile, are spending more of their time lounging on the porch, usually perched on the jacuzzi cover, carefully aligned with the sun's beams, and generously donating their furballs to the hopeless cause of vaccuming.

The grass doesn't need to be cut every 4 days. The flowers are not shrinking in an attempt to minimize the sun's impact. Instead, they are blooming in all their glory. This makes for happy butterflies and hummingbirds.

I can now go for walks through the woods, without fear of sunstroke or attack by mosquito squadrons.

I can start to light off some of the hundreds of candles that have been accumulating in the house. Every time I go to the mall, three or four more follow me home. It's a conundrum.

I can start enjoying a cup of hot cocoa in the evening while watching the fireflies.

I can dust off my telescope and go outside to watch the comets, asteroid showers, and autumn moon.

I am a happy camper.

Our House Doesn't Like Us

2008-09-18T05:54:00.000-07:00

Our house is only two years old, and already it's falling apart. Well, maybe not falling apart, but a lot of things have broken down in the last two weeks. First up was our A/C, when a faulty drain plug caused water to leak all over the garage. In trying to fix the plug, the A/C company broke the drain pan. A new one was ordered and due to be installed today. In the meantime, the A/C has been on scaled-back use, which generally means temps in the house have been around 85. In September. In Florida. Ugh.

Next up was our dishwasher. We started noticing a strange smell, which we took to mean that a pipe/tube was clogged or there was some food still stuck in the drain hole. So we tore apart the dishwasher, cleaned everything out as much as possible, and put everything back together. Still smelled. Was about ready to bite the bullet and call the repair guy when Big Dave noticed something. The geltabs we were using actually smelled pretty bad (he accidentally broke one when trying to fill the dishwasher). So we stopped using that brand, and the mystery of the smelly dishwasher has been solved.

Then the drains in our master bathroom and kitchen sink seemed to be getting stopped up. Ordinarilly this would be a job for Liquid Plummer, right? Well, no. You see, when you have a septic system, you have to be VERY careful about the chemicals you use around the house. Everything must be septic friendly. So off we went to Lowe's and Home Depot to find the elusive pro-septic drain declogger, which we finally found after a 6-hour tour.

Our master bathroom has a shower leak, which has seeped under the linolium. So now we must tear apart the bathroom trying to discover the leak, and redo the linolium (which has already been redone twice).

The fan in the porch is not working, and I'm suspecting a faulty wire.

But at least we still have a home.

The neighbors across the street are in the process of being foreclosed on. They built their dream home, with the intention of retiring in 5 years. But, like many homeowners, they have seen their equity disappear as home prices continue to drop. They owe more than the home is worth, so they are walking away from their dream.

Compared to that, I guess we still have it pretty good.

What Not To Wear At Aquatica

2008-09-08T06:03:00.000-07:00

Big Dave and I celebrated our anniversary this week with a trip to O-town to experience Aquatica, the new waterpark. All in all, a very enjoyable outing. The weather was just about perfect, the rides fun, and the lines short. Can't ask for more than that, right?

Well, yes I can. And I will. : ) While Big Dave got an eyeful of young PYTs in their skimpy bikinis, I was treated to the retina-burning sight of middle aged. beer-bellied men wedged tightly into speedos. My eyes will never be the same.

Where were my cute, tan, well muscled frat boys with form fitting suits? Where were my young, impressionable 18-year-old farm boys with cowboy hats and manly staggers?

They were at Adventure Island, that's where! They probably took one look at the pasty-white, pot-bellied English guy in the thong bikini briefs and decided to go elsewhere, just in case the look happened to be contagious.

In the park, there are signs EVERYWHERE with rules about what you can and cannot do. I thought it might be a good idea if management put up additional signs about what people can and cannot wear in the park -- something like this:

1. If you cannot see your toes because your big belly is in the way, do not attempt a speedo or a thong.
2. If you resemble Cocoa the gorilla because of your hairy arms, back and stomach, you must wear a t-shirt.
3. Make sure your suit is the correct size. No one wants to see your whole package.
4. Butt cracks are not a fashion accessory. Pull up your pants.

If A Vote Fails To Be Counted, Is It Really a Democracy?

2008-08-31T06:55:00.000-07:00

Several articles have appeared in the news concerning the electronic voting machines. Among them:

http://www.oxfordpress.com/hp/content/oh/story/news/local/2008/08/28/hjn082808voting.html

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/08/16/eveningnews/main4355733.shtml

"Premier Election Solutions (aka Dibold) recently conceded that the problem may not be caused by anti-virus software, but may be an error that has existed in the machine's code for more than a decade."

This is the same company who has refused to allow outside independent testing of it's code. The same company who has insisted for over a decade that there was nothing wrong with the machines, and that all elections counted by these machines were legitimate and safely conducted.

And only now, because various states and voting municipalities are starting to sue, has Dibold started to admit maybe these machines are not as reliable as once thought. After the federal gov't has spent millions of dollars buying and implementing the machines. After states have spent millions of dollars on maintenance. After several close call elections that may or may not have been counted correctly.

For our last election 2 years ago, we had to use the electronic machines. Our poll workers did not know how to run them. They got confused. They kept crashing the system. When I questioned whether my vote would indeed be counted, they got huffy with me. "Well of course it will," said the election supervisor. " Our government would not spend the money on them if they weren't thoroughly tested and proven reliable." Uh-huh.

I recently voted in the primary. Our new voting system was a felt tip marker pen and the ballot. You filled in the bubble next to the candidate's name. No confusion, no crashing, no fears of hackers breaking into the system. And there's a paper trail, to verify the votes.

Makes you think. Newer technology isn't alwasy better. Sometimes a pen and paper will do the job just fine.

Uninvited Guests After the Storm

2008-08-25T12:38:00.000-07:00

Tropical Storm Faye reached us on Friday, hitting us with 40 mile per hour wind gusts and dumping several inches of rain on our property. We survived intact, for the most part, and other than having a few small tree limbs to pick up, we were relatively unscathed. We lost power for about 4 hours on Fri, but were back on-line in the evening.

Thanks to Faye, however, I discovered some uninvited guests. While clipping some broken branches from one of our oak trees, I noticed a yellow jacket buzzing around. I ignored it, and kept trimming. Fortunately, it didn't take me long to finish my task. The yellow jacket, however, was still buzzing around the tree trunk. So I took a closer look. I noticed that the tree trunk was moving. Cautiously, I looked again. Apparently, an army of yellow jackets decided to invade our tree. They had found a hole created by a woodpecker, and had built a nest inside the tree. I was no more than 2 feet from them while trimming, but I didn't get stung. Since my ability to get stung is known far and wide, I called for back up in the form of Big Dave, and he came to the rescue bearing a HUGE can of hornet/wasp spray. He sprayed the affected area once yesterday, but he'll have to keep applying it for a few more days, as the nest appears to be pretty deep.

Big Dave is the official insect killer in the house. But it's not because I'm squeamish about bugs. It's because I'm the one who will be stung/bit/attacked. I can't tell you the number of times I've gotten stung by scorpions, stung by wasps, bit by spiders, or otherwise suffered a physical assault by insects. I'm not the one who kills them, but I'm still the one who will get stung. Where's the fairness in that?

Oh, and you should see Big Dave when he's in insect attack mode. He fears nothing -- not a pincher, not a stinger -- nothing. He will walk right up the nest, poke at it with a stick to make them come out, then spray and laugh his demonic laugh. It's absolutely hilarious to watch. The fact that they DARE invade his yard is reason enough for him bring on the Napalm. Watching a grown man wage a battle against a hive of insects -- now THAT's entertainment.

Why I Need Adult Supervision At All Times

2008-08-20T10:50:00.000-07:00

1. I am fascinated by shiny metal objects. Take, for example, the metal scrapers that waiters use at fine restaurants. You know, the ones they use to clean the bread and food crumbs from the table cloth after every course. For some unknown reason, they amuse me to no end. Big Dave first noticed this phenomenom in Orlando when we dined at an upscale steak joint. I was the only one jumping up and down in my seat whenever our waiter came to our table and pulled out his scraper. Don't ask me why. I don't have an answer. All I can tell you is if you're ever in a nice restaurant, and you hear someone squeal "Goodie!" when the waiter starts to clear the crumbs, chances are, it's me. Come on over and say Hi. I'll even share my bread with you.

2. I love flame. My husband would call me a pyro, but I'd rather consider myself a amateur candle-enthusiast/fire pit afficienado. There's just something about a controlled flame that's soothing and reflective. That, and my bro was a firefighter, so I'm guessing it runs in my gene pool. Hence, I have no control over this particular weirdness.

3. I hate to cook. It is takes me more than 15-20 minutes to prepare a meal, it will inevitably get burned and/or ruined. Or I will burn myself. I do not have the patience to stand over the stove for an extended period of time. Baking, however, I can do. Probably because I can set the timer for the estimated time frame needed, and come back to check.

4. I can injure myself if given sharp, pointy, or otherwise dangerous objects. Like a butterknife. Or a spork. Somehow, someway, I will accidentally stab, cut or maim myself. It's a sure thing. Acutally, I'm surprised Big Dave hasn't taken over the chore of cutting up my meat. This seems to be a particularly dangerous activity for me.

5. I am not good with directions. Whether putting furniture together or following a recipe, I will at some point ignore the directions. Not good. Sometimes, the results turn out fine. Other times... well.. let's just say it tends to look like a project semi-completed by an idiot. Which reminds me of my favorite idiot joke:

A group of people are gathered in a room, attending a weekly Idiots Anonymous Meeting. One man walks up to the podium and begins the meeting. "Hi, my name is Bob, and I'm an idiot." The rest of the crowed dutifully answers, "Hi Steve!"

6. I'm not as young and spry as I used to be. Let's just say that my coordination and center of gravity has changed over the years. This leads to some interesting events, such as tripping over my own feet, or rolling over my toe with the computer chair (while I'm sitting in the chair). Once, I even managed to hit my head on the inside of the dishwasher. (Don't ask. It's a painful memory). Once, while walking through the living room, I took a nasty tumble and fell flat on my face. Naturally, Big Dave was concerned and rushed to my aid. As he helped me up, he asked what happenend. I told him I tripped on the carpet. He frowned, then said, "But we don't have any carpet in the house." I said, "Well, since it was my face that made contact with the floor, we'll use my version of the story. And I tripped on the carpet." Being the wise man that he is, he said no more.

7. I get excited by the simpliest things. Finding one more cookie in the cookie jar when I expected it to be empty. Watching my cat(s) snore. Finding my favorite movie playing on cable. Big Dave bringing my favorite candy bar from the store. A towel fresh from the dryer. Underwear that doesn't ride up. And a husband who loves me in spite of all my faults.
These are a few of my favorite things.

The Panic Before The Storm

2008-08-17T10:24:00.000-07:00

By Tuesday we should have an uninvited guest in our area -- Tropical Storm/Hurricane Fay. Our esteemed weather forecasters are calling for 100% humidity and wind.

Ya think?!

What's really strange is how panicked people now become whenever a storm is mentioned in the news. Granted, hurricanes can be extremely dangerous and destructive, as we've seen with Hurricanes Katrina, Andrew, and Hugo. But I can't help think back to when I was a kid. Hurricanes were taken in stride -- part of a fact of life in Florida. We prepared as best we could, but ultimately understood that we had no control over what was to come. We worried, but remained calm.

Now a days our forecasters seem to predict the end of the world with even a standard thunderstorm. They can't get pictures of the downed trees and power lines on the air fast enough. They'll gleefully tell you about the injuries, the deaths (even if the storm was not to blame), the preliminary cost of damages. They seem to relish being the first to bring you news of the destruction and carnage. This is why I can't bring myself to watch the news anymore. After spending a half-hour listening to them, I'm exhausted. It's nothing but doom and gloom.

Floridians will tell you we have 4 seasons, just like everyone else. Except ours are: Fall, Spring, Summer, Hurricane. Our Hurricane season lasts from June 1 to November 1. Real Floridians will tell you to buckle up and wait it out. The tourists head for higher ground.

Homeowners look towards the sky, sigh, and wait to see how high their next insurance premium will go.

My Niece Commands, I Shall (or Not) Obey

2008-08-10T18:11:00.000-07:00

The following is a conversation I had with my niece today: (In the background, I hear my sis-in-law providing cues)

Niece: Aunt Kathy, when can I have a cousin?

Me: You already have two cousins. From Aunt Jen.

Niece: (silence, at first, but I hear SIL whisper to Niece the following): But I want one from you. Soon, okay? A girl. I want it to be a girl.

Me: Why a girl?

Niece: Because she can help me with my brother, and teach him things.

Me: What do you want to teach him?

Niece: Things like how to get me stuff, and bring my toys to me, and do stuff for me.

Me: That's not very nice. I don't think your brother wants to do those things.

Niece: But he'd have to do it all if I had a cousin helping me with him. So when am I going to get one?

Me: That depends. It's going to cost you $20. Do you have $20?

Niece: (dead silence, then a sigh) No.

Me: Then sorry. I can't give you a cousin. Cousins are very expensive.

Niece: (another dramatic sigh, and in the background I hear the phone being manhandled, and my niece saying, "Here, mom, you talk to her. She's being impossible. Tell her she has to give me a cousin."

I love messing with her mind.

We Think You're "Amazing", George!

2008-08-04T04:49:00.000-07:00

It's been 17 years since George Michael set foot on stage on this side of the pond.

17 years of patient waiting and hoping from his loyal American fans - fans who were wondering if the day of George's return would ever happen. During his absence from the Colonies, he'd done many European concerts, released new material, compiled a massive greatest hits collection, and introduced himself to the LAPD in a public bathroom.

Fan started asking, "when, oh when will George grace us with his presence once again? Please, just give us One More Try!"

On Saturday, his Faith-ful fans were finally rewarded.

The concert was awesome. Despite the fact that poor George was suffering from a head cold, he still brought down the house. The boy still has his pipes, his manly good looks, and can shuffle his tush with them best of 'em!

We were in the ninth row, surrounded by members of George's fan club. The guy sitting next to us had been to the two concerts in Texas, then drove to Florida to attend the last two concerts of the American tour in Tampa and Sunrise. There were two ladies from England who had been to every concert on the tour, and planned to go to the last two dates in London and Copenhagen. A group of ten behind us ran the Southeast chapter of his fan club, and had met George at a pre-concert meet and greet.

Now I'm a fan of the man, but one concert was enough for me. We got our George fix, and can now honestly say he's one of the greatest performers we've seen.

Not bad for a guy who got his start with a song "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go".

Wake me up to go-go to see George Michael

2008-08-02T09:18:00.000-07:00

This morning I was woken up by my husband, who leaned over me with a big grin on his face. As soon as he saw I was awake, he starting singing various George Michael songs -- badly -- and trying to get me to sing along. Two main problems with this form of a wake-up call. (1) I'm not a morning person, especially on a Saturday morning, and (2) I didn't have my coffee yet. If I could have mananged to scowl and voice my displeasure, I would have. As it was, I could barely open my eyes and snort. Then I rolled over and pretended to suffer from caffeine withdrawl. I don't think he noticed.

As you might have already guessed, we are going to see George Michael in concert tonight at the St. Pete Times Forum in Tampa.

My husband has been looking forward to this concert, because he has become a big fan of the Eli Stone series on TV. For those of you unfamiliar with the series, it's about a lawyer who is diagnosed with a brain aneurysm, which is causing him to have strange visions. And among these visions is George Michael singing and dancing around Eli's law firm. These visions usually center on cases that Eli eventually takes in defense and protection of the little guy fighting against corporations. A little weird, yes, but entertaining nonetheless.

Anyways, because of the series, my husband has had George Michael on the brain, and this concert will be an opportunity to help purge Big Dave of his habit of breaking out in song in the car and around the house.

I hope.

Otherwise I will be confiscating all George Michael and Wham CDs from the house and the car.

Sorry, George, it's nothing personal, but if it's a choice between you and my sleep time, I'm going to have to choose sleep.

The "Discussion" That Will Never End

2008-07-26T09:32:00.000-07:00

My husband and I, like many couples, occasionally have our disagreements. We rarely argue, but when we do, it's usually over something pretty major. Fortunately, it doesn't last for more than a couple of hours before we offer the olive branch to each other. We just don't enjoy arguing, least of all with each other, so we generally talk things out before it becomes a fight.

Except for when it comes to the proposed project of covering our well and filtration system.

We have been in the process of deciding how best to cover and protect our water system now for about 8 months. Why? Because county regulations are driving us insane, and we cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel.

First, we thought about a carport. We thought it might be the simpliest solution, because all your do is put it up. No construction necessary, no concrete slab to pour, etc. Except our county building department said that in order to comply with hurricane code, we would need to dig four holes, pour concrete into the holes, then place the four pole corners of the carport into the holes. In theory, this will prevent hurricane force winds from pulling up the carport and whisking it away. In order for us to pour the concrete, we would need to level the ground dirt, which means taking apart the whole well system. If you have ever dealt with a well system, you would know why (1) that's a bad idea and (2) it's never going to happen.

Then we thought about putting up a shed. Just enclose the whole thing, and a shed is exempt from hurricane code as far as securing the sides in concrete. But county doesn't seem to realiize that it won't be used for storage, only for protecting the water system. They just can't wrap their heads around the concept of a shed being used for something OTHER than storage. And so we must through many more hoops.

Anyways, the other day we sat down and really hammered out our ideas and came up with what I thought was the final word on the matter. My husband said, "I've been looking at this thing from every angle, I have discussed all the options with the builder and county, and here's two options. You pick the one you think is best, and we'll go with your choice."

I hesitated, because I've been caught up in this scam before. "Whatever you choose" has always been an iffy statement with us, because no sooner do I make a decision than my husband starts bringing up new ideas and new options, and we then start a whole new dialogue.

So I sat there quietly for a few moments. Then I asked, "So you are positive these are the two routes you want to take, and you don't care which one we choose, so long as I do the choosing?"

He nodded. "That's right. I'm tired of looking at this, and I want this task to finally be done. You choose, and we'll go with whatever you think is best."

I tried again. "So you have absolutely no opinion on this matter whatsoever. You have no preference, no inclination, no leaning towards one solution over the other, is that correct?"

He sighed. "Just pick one. Let's just get this done and over with."

I sat quietly again. I was pretty sure where this conversation was going to go, but I took a leap of faith, took a deep breath, and said, "Okay, based on everything we've thought about, our budget, and the need to get it done quickly, let's do this option." I tapped the appropiate sheet of paper.

My husband smiled and said, "Okay, I'll call the builder and let him know. It'll be good to get this done."

I smiled. That was easy, I thought. Then I became suspicious. That was too easy, I thought.

This morning my husband came up to me and said, "Well I thought about what "we" decided, and after I called the builder, I was doing some recalculations, and I think we may have some other options to consider."

I said nothing. I just put my face in my hands, and did a silent scream inside.

I can hardly wait to render my next final decision.

Early Morning for a Dark Knight

2008-07-18T08:08:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in a marriage when you must do something you don't want to do -- even something you swore you'd never do -- all in the name of marital harmony. Arguing will not get you out of it. Compromising will not work. Reason will not triumph. And so, for the sake of your partnership, sometimes you must do the unthinkable.

For me, that moment came last night.

Big Dave made me go see Batman: The Dark Knight. At midnight. Opening night. In a large stadium theatre with A LOT of teens and kids.

I know what you are thinking. You're saying to yourself, "so? It's the most talked about movie of the summer. It's a sure blockbuster. What's the big deal?"

And I would say, "Stuff it where the sun doesn't shine."

I am not a night person. By 10:30, I am ready for bed. We saw the midnight showing. The movie is three hours long, plus all the previews and advertisements. You do the math.

Our show was sold out. We were surrounded by teens with cell phones who apparently did not have the ability or the inclination to turn off those cell phones. They also did not have the ability to remain quiet during the movie. And I'm not talking about quiet brief whispers. I'm talking about full blown conversations with each other and on their cell phones during the movie. This is a main reason why I don't like going to the movies during peak times. The more crowded the theater, the more likely I will be seated next to these freaks. Those are the times when a taser or a paint ball gun could come in handy. Unfortunately, neither are allowed in a theater.

Earlier in the day I tried to reason with my husband. I encouraged him to go by himself. He replied he really wanted me to come. I asked why it was so important that (1) I go with him, and (2) we had to go opening night at midnight, when we could just go the next day at a more reasonable hour. He replied that since Batman was his favorite superhero, he had never missed seeing a Batman movie on opening night, and he didn't want to see his favorite character on-screen without his favorite person sitting beside him. So, stiffling my inner feelings, I just smiled and told him to buy the tickets. But inside I was thinking, "Damn the man. I hope he chokes on his popcorn."

But despite the late hour, the talkers, and the crowds, it was worth going just to see the smile and enjoyment on my husband's face. He had been looking forward to the movie for a long time, and his Batman viewing streak continues unblemished.

Bottom line: I'm happy he's happy.

Now where's the #&%!@# coffee?

My Garden... My Nemesis

2008-07-08T07:49:00.000-07:00

Some people are born with green thumbs. They have gardens that thrive and bloom and are a joy to behold. My mother is one of the green thumbs. She's a miracle worker with plants. This genetic marker, however, did not get passed on to me. I have a black thumb. Not literally, of course. But I am horrible with plants. I can kill them just by looking at them. I can do everything right (water, fertilize, etc), but somehow my plants will still die. I think they can sense my ineptitude. They know they're dealing with an amateur, and they torment me accordingly. More often than not, my plants wilt away into the abyss of nothingness. In order for a plant to survive on my property, it has to be VERY rugged and durable. In short, it has to be nearly indestructible.

So, imagine my surprise when, almost a year later, my front garden is still doing very well. I have 5 rose bushes that bloom almost every day. My hibiscus bushes are coming back nicely after being beaten down by some winter frost. Of course, it doesn't hurt that we've had a lot of rainfall in the last month. It also doesn't hurt that we've had more cloud cover than normal, so the plants don't get baked in the sun nearly as much as they would ordinarily. I should have known better than to get my hopes up, though. Yesterday, I was congratulating myself on a job well done, and enjoying my roses. Today, I am vigorously cursing mother nature.

I have been invaded by caterpillars. They seem to really be enjoying my rose bushes -- a little too much, in fact. I started spraying my plants with bug spray, but I'm finding out this was a bad idea. You see, we have a lot of birds on our property. Birds, it turns out, LOVE catepillars. So when the bird eats a catepillar that has been poisoned by my spray... well, lets just say the result is not pretty. So I am back to square one. How do I get rid of the catepillars without harming the birds? After a couple of weeks, I may not have to worry about it, as my roses will be nibbled down to little stubs. Apparently my black thumb has reared it's ugly in-grown nail once again.

Maybe I should just stick to cactus plants.

What a Difference 20 Years Makes!

2008-07-01T11:31:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, my dad grudgingly allowed us to have a cat. He didn't like cats all that much. He's more of a dog person. because the dog responds to him when he calls. A cat pretty much ignores him, which he doesn't appreciate.

But because my brother and I really wanted a cat, he allowed ONE (and only ONE), but there were strict rules attached to having the cat. The cat could not stay inside at night, no matter what the temperature was outside (because he refused to have a cat litter box in the house). The cat could not stay in our rooms if we were not in them (I guess to prevent "accidents"). The cat ate the cheapest cat food, because he didn't believe in spending a lot of money on pet food. The cat had to have a bath at least once every two weeks, even in winter, to help control fleas and pet dander. Vet visits were few and far between, mostly because Dad didn't believe in spending money on a vet for yearly wellness visits or any other "unnecessary" expense. His philosophy was if the cat was sick, it was cheaper to get another cat from the SPCA rather than spend a lot on vet bills. If the cat was eating well and pooping well, there was no need for it to go to the vet for a checkup.

Fast forward 20 years. The self-proclaimed cat hater now has TWO cats. They stay inside at night. They have a litter box in the house. They go for yearly vet visits. THEY SLEEP ON HIS BED AT NIGHT, and HE MAKES ROOM FOR THEM ON THE BED. He always shares a bit of his dinner with them. If he has tuna for lunch, guess who gets half the can? He has bought them chairs because he thought they were the most comfortable chairs for the cats. If a cat is lying on the chair he wanted to sit on, he'll move on to another chair, rather than disturb the cat! He lavishes affection on them. They have special comforters they lay on while they sleep on the bed. in short, these cats live a life of luxury.

All I want to know is: Who is this man, and what did he do with my dad?

My Protector... most of the time.

2008-06-26T08:37:00.000-07:00

Today, I want to introduce you to my guardian and protector: Koda. He's a 67 pound Australian shepherd/Rhodesian Ridgeback mix. He's on guard 24/7, and alerts me to anything out of the ordinary, which usually ranges from a person walking by the house to an aggressive squirrel ransacking the bird feeders. He's extremely protective of the house and the humans in it (he could care less about the cats, though), and usually he does an outstanding job in carrying out his sentry duties.

Except when there's a thunderstorm.

If he hears ANY thunder, he becomes the biggest wuss you've ever seen. He starts off by barking at the lightening, probably to show it who's boss. Then he progresses to howling, which can make you deaf in about 2 minutes. As the storm gets closer, he starts to panic. He has to be in the same room I'm in. His body must be in contact with my body at all times. If I'm at my desk, he must be under the desk, behind my legs. If I'm in bed, he must be at the foot of the bed, safely tucked between my legs or resting by my tush. If the thunder is loud enough, he will start shaking. His ears flatten out, the fur on his back will go up, and his tail will remain between his legs until the storm passes. The transformation between pre-storm dog and post-storm dog is incredible. Suddenly, I'm HIS protector. Only Mommy can keep the storm at bay. Only mommy can chase the bad thunder away. Cute, right? Yes, but only if he's not anywhere near anything breakable, such as computers, electronics, furniture, etc. Then, it's not so adorable.

I suppose I should be happy that he believes I could protect him. This means he accepts me as the Alpha female, which makes me the boss. But I would be a lot happier about it if I wasn't deaf right now.

There's another storm brewing for today. I've already put his dog bed underneath my desk, in preparation for the next panic attack. Am I a good mommy or what?

My New Bumper Sticker

2008-06-22T10:01:00.000-07:00

Driving around during my daily errand run, I see a lot of different bumper stickers. Some are political, some are humorous, and almost all of them reflect some character or personality of the driver. Naturally, this got me to thinking about the bumper sticker that I should put on my car. And I came up with the following:

"I made an Australian girl cry. Ask me how!"

There are two reasons for this idea. 1. It's eye-catching, even a conversation starter. 2. It's true.

Now let me explain. For some reason, when I travel, I get an excess of bodily toots (aka gas). I don't know if it's the food I eat, the stress that goes with traveling, or a combination of both, but I have been known to lay some real stinkers. The real problem is that there is usually no warning or indication that they are coming, so one minute I'm standing around and everything's fine. The next minute, I toot (usually in the proximity of some poor unsuspecting person), and the green gas spreads it's way through the crowd with some unpleasant results. While in the providence of Queensland, I had just finished breakfast and was walking out of the restaurant to meet up with Big Dave. Suddenly, a toot escaped. You couldn't hear it, but within a minute you sure could smell it. I happened to be passing by a family, and the little girl was the closest one to me. As I passed her, she sniffed, crinkled up her nose, then said (loudly), "Ewwww. Mommy, that stinks!" She then held her nose with one hand, and started to cry. Needless to say, I hurried out of the area. I don't know if they ever discovered it was me, but it was the first of many times that I have had similar reactions to my toots. I have made children cry in many different cities, in different parts of the country, from San Francisco to Savannah.

Now, I am not proud of this "talent". I know there has to be a way to get it to stop. But on rare occasions, it does come in handy. Take, for instance, last night. I was curled up on the couch with the dog. His head was towards my feet, and his tush was pointed at me. With no warning, he let let out a toot, and it was the nastiest smelling thing you can imagine. Like rotten eggs stewed in sulfur water. Not to be outdone, I reciprocated. He sniffed, recoiled, sneezed, then jumped down off the couch and tried to bury his nose in the hallway carpet -- probably to help his nose get rid of the smell. I then had the couch to myself for the rest of the night.

Hey, it may not be ladylike, but it does have it's advantages.

The Great Outdoors

2008-06-11T12:08:00.000-07:00

Well, we survived our trek into the Appalacians. What a gorgeous part of the country! Fortunately, we went early enough so we avoided most of the summer heat (although it was still quite warm due to the East Coast heat wave). We hiked, we rafted the white water rapids, we rode a train through the Great Smokies, and just generally relaxed and enjoyed the mountains. And, we ate our way through Bryson City, Cherokee, Gatlainburg, and Maggie Valley. In addition to some souveniers, we bought back with us some great stories.

First, let me tell you about Uncle Charlie. Uncle Charlie was our tour guide while rafting the rapids. He's a young-at-heart 78-year old part time resident of Bryson City, NC, who proudly wore a tee shirt which stated, "You don't grow old because you raft the waters, you grow old because you STOP rafting." He is one of the coolest people you will ever meet. He knew that river like the back of his hand. Because of his knowledge and guidance, we stayed in the raft the entire trip down the river (instead of getting flipped out like many of our fellow rafters). After our trip down the river, I talked to him briefly about his life and his experiences on the river. He summed it up by saying, "I've been rafting these waters for almost 35 years. I know it better than most of the people who have lived here all their lives. Everything that could happen to you on that river has happened to me. That river and I have an understanding. When it's time for me to stop, she'll let me know." He then told us about the local history, the local people, and local legends. I could have talked to him for hours, but there was another boatload of people waiting, so Charlie had to go. But the two lessons he taught me: (1) age is just a number, and (2)your experiences keep you young, so never stop trying new things.

We met up with an old Cherokee tribe member while visiting the Cherokee museum. He was also in his '70s, had lived in Cherokee all his life. He talked to us briefly about the town's renaissance from neglected reservation to bustling tourist town (thanks to the new Harrod's Casino, which is owned by the tribe). The pride he felt at seeing his people finally self sufficient was obvious. They now had quality medical care, new schools, improved infrastructure, and money to put towards ongoing projects. It tickled him that tourists drove hundreds of miles to learn about his culture, tour the museum, and enjoy the local art shows, when he could quite clearly remember when Cherokee children were put in boarding school to make them more "white", so they might fit in with the world around them. He now saw the world trying to fit in with the tribe, and he was enjoying every minute of it. As he now stated, with a big teasing smile, "We don't scalp the white man anymore. We just send him to the casino, and he'll scalp himself."

That's probably the best thing about traveling. You get to meet all sorts of people you might otherwise have never met. Well, that, and the Indian bread. That's pretty good too.

And away we go!

2008-05-28T14:56:00.000-07:00

On Friday Big Dave and I are headed to the great state of North Carolina, for a week in a cabin in the woods, followed by a couple of days with my niece and nephew before heading back home. We are really looking foward to this vacation -- and the time spent away from phones, email, computers, and the day-to-day grind. I think we just need to recharge our batteries, so to speak.

My mother will be babysitting the 'kids" while we're away. And by "babysitting", I mean spoiling them so completely and totally rotten that when we get back they'll want nothing to do with us 'cause Nana treated them like little Kings and Queens. The canine will get six thousand walks a day, plus car rides and errand runs to and from town (where he will score at least 4-5 dog biscuits from the bank). Not to mention all-he-can-eat dog treats and chewies from Nana herself. The Felines will undoubtedly get "the good stuff" (canned cat food) in ample quantities, even though I've drawn detailed instructions on their feeding. They will also sleep with her at night, 'cause she doesn't mind being woken up at 3 am with "feed me" demands from 5 very vocal furballs.

And let me say that I appreciate her coming all this way to care for the kids. I really do. But let me share with you the phone conversation I've had with her today. This was an actual conversation. I am not making any of this up:

Me: We really appreciate your coming to watch the pets, Mom.

Mom: I'm happy to do it. It will give you and Dave time together, so you can relax and maybe focus on other things aside from work. Speaking of which, when am I going to get some grandchildren?

Me: You have real grandchildren, Mom. From your son. They live in South Carolina.

Mom: No No.. I mean grandchildren from you.

Me: You already have grandchildren from me. 5 of them, to be exact.

Mom: No.. no.. I mean REAL grandchildren, not furry ones. It's time to get off the pot and let us see some action. It's time.

Me: Mother, if you want more grandchildren THAT bad, I suggest you speak with your son, who has already provided you with two fine examples. In the meantime, Dave and I are working on it, but if you keep insisting on bringing up the subject, I will have to impose a no-grandchildren-penalty for the next six months.

Mom: We've been waiting for years, you know. Years.

Me: So you have proven that you are good at waiting, which means another 6 months won't be that bad, now will it?

Mom: I know it'll happen. Sooner or later, it'll happen. But I prefer it to be sooner.

Me: Yes, mom. I know Mom. We will take your preference into consideration. Now can we talk about somethig else?

And in another week, we will have a similar conversation. And the week after that, yet another conversation... you get the drift.

I really need this vacation.

Big Dave's New Toy

2008-05-21T16:09:00.000-07:00

Big Dave picked up his new toy today, the Wii balance board. For those of you unfamiliar with it, let me describe. It's a little bigger than the average bathroom scale, with outlines where you place your feet. It's hooked up to the Wii game system, and you can do Yoga exercises, Strength Training, Balance Training, and various coordination games. The idea is to get people exercising while "playing" video games. I tried it out briefly, and it's actually pretty fun. The Yoga was challanging for me, because while I can balance on one foot, I can't keep my body as centered as the program requires. But it's good, because I need to stretch more and retrain my body to be more flexible. Seems hard to believe how rigid my body has become -- can't touch my toes, can't do a split, can't even reach my arms behind my back without pulling a muscle (I know.. I know.. pretty sad). So the new goal is to try to use the board at least 3x a week, to help shape my body into a better posture and better balance. I know I have an uphill battle, but at least I have a goal.

As for Big Dave, he just likes watching me stretch. And bend. And.. well.. just never you mind. : )

Truth be told, I think that's why he bought it in the first place.

Dinner Companions

2008-05-14T06:43:00.000-07:00

I was doing some spring cleaning earlier this week and came across some old school folders. You know the ones -- dog-eared, battered, with doodles all over the front and back, with notes like "I love _____" and "Kimmie and Jennie BFF" (Was I ever really THAT stupid and annoying?!?!) What caught my attention, however, was one paper I wrote back in junior year of high school (I won't say what year that was!) in which we wrote about throwing a dinner party for eight, and who we would invite to that party. Our guests had to be real people, not necessarily famous, but they could be living or dead. (Kinda gross to be throwing a dinner party for the non-breathing and pulse-lacking, but at the time I didn't question the assignment). I had to laugh at my choices for guests, because today my list would be totally different. I won't even go into detail about my junior year list, because it's too embarassing. Instead, I'd like to share with you my bread new, still-in-the-box list of People I'd Like to Invite to Dinner:

1. Mark Twain. He was, and still is, America's best humorist. I would be very interested to hear his take on society today. No doubt he would be extremely disappointed with how we've turned out.
2. Richard Harris. Actor and master storyteller. Conversation would not be lacking during the entire evening. But the booze would definitely take a hit, as he was a well known admirer of the drink. But then again, a drunk storyteller is the most amusing kind of drunk.
3. Unsinkable Molly Brown. She was a woman ahead of her time, who didn't care what people thought of her. I wouldn't even ask her about the Titanic, because, to me, her life after surviving the disaster was even more interesting.
4. Frank McCourt. Teacher. Author. Immigrant. He could be a drinking companion for Mr. Harris. Two drunk storytellers for the price of one! That could get interesting.
5. Jane Austen. Writer, feminist. I think she and Molly would have so much to talk about, as they had many of the same opinions, just 150 years apart.
6. Dame Judy Dench. Brittish Actor. Best known for her portrayl of "M" in the James Bonds movies. She's had so many delicious roles, and she doesn't suffer fools gladly. I would love to see the interaction between her and Richard Harris.
7. John Buckley Whitehead. He was a Civil War Union soldier who served in a Connecticut regiment for almost a year. He kept a diary of his time in service, which I have a copy of, and his experiences are astounding. Oh, and he's my many-times-great grandfather. I would love to meet him.
8. Annie Besant. Reformer and supporter of India's Home Rule Movement. She was also a supporter for England's working poor and the suffrage movement. What I admire most about her is her desire to never stop learning, and her ability to embrace many different ideas and philosophies, and her respect for the poor and downtrodden. She could probably teach us all what it really means to work for the greater good.

The Bunny is AWOL

2008-05-09T08:34:00.000-07:00

Sad news to report for this blog session:

Gizmo the bunny escaped from the porch. She chewed a hole in the window screen and hightailed it to greener pastures. Well, maybe not so green, seeing as how we're in desperate need of rain. But wider pastures, definitely.

Since we live in a rural area, we doubt we will find her, or that she'll come back on her own. Big Dave was upset for a couple of days, but I think after a couple of weeks, he may consider the option of getting another bunny.

In the meantime, I've got a screen to fix and a porch to scrub down (before she left, she deposited some bunny nuggets in the stress lines on the concrete floors -- very hard to reach, even with the skinny vaccuum attachment). If worse comes to worse, I'll have to use a plastic knife to push 'em out.

Is this really what my life has become -- rabbit poop pusher? Somehow, I don't think that'll be an impressive addition to my resume.

Addictions for Everyone!

2008-05-03T14:52:00.000-07:00

Last weeks blog focused on my cats' reaction to catnip. But during the week, I started to think about all those other things that the pets have cravings for, and some of them are downright weird. So, of course I immediately thought I should post them for your enjoyment. So here they are: Things That My "Kids" Are Addicted To.

Koda: hibiscus flowers, Nylabones (nearly-indestructable bones made from Nylon), time with Mom on the couch, Greenies, any and all human food, vegetables (especially whatever the rabbit happens to be getting), and rawhide chewies.

Sage: catnip, beef jerkey (Big Dave's fault), cooked spaghetti (he thinks it's worms).

Smokey: Daddy time, crumbs (especially from potato chips or crackers), tunneling under the covers, canned cat food, cat treats

Roscoe: bedtime with Mom, catnip, tuna, "special time" with Casey, butter, cat treats, and canned cat food.

Casey: canned cat food, "special time" with Roscoe, whatever is in Koda's dish, coffee

Gizmo: broccoli, sunflower seeds, snow peas, Daddy time, tormenting the cats, shredded cabbage.

And to be fair, here's a list of addictions for Big Dave and me:

Big Dave: gaming, beef jerkey, chicken wings, bacon, made from Scratch French Onion soup, comic books, and me.

Me: chocolate, bread, puzzles, carrot cake, Agatha Christie podcasts, books, and Big Dave.

So there you have it. As you can see, the "kids" really didn't stand a chance at being normal, but then again, we are one big, happy, addiction-riddled family!

Just Say No!... (Unless It's Catnip)

2008-04-26T16:38:00.000-07:00

Today I'm going to provide a public service announcement.

Now I know we've all heard the radio commercials (some celebrity telling you to Just Say No!), seen all the TV ads (consisting of watching eggs fry, paid for by the partnership for a Drug Free America), and listened to all the rhetoric concerning drug usage in America. "It's bad. It's bad for our kids. It's bad for the very fabric of our society." And I'm here today, to add my testimony. I am here, to be a witness to this evil plague. I'm here to tell you that I'm mad as heck about this problem, and I'm not going to take it anymore! I am referring, of course, to the deadly narcotic known as CATNIP!

At this very moment, I have four cats, lying in coma-like stupors all around the house, completely bombed out of their minds. They see imaginary mice. They are fascinated by shimmers of light on the wall, but they cannot stand up and give chase. They can barely walk, let alone hop onto a bed. If you call them, they look at you with glazed eyes. Even Sage, the menace of the house, has a very goofy look on his face, and when he tries to meow, it comes out sounding like his squeaker is broken. The dog looks on in disdain, as if to say, "Great. Now I live with a bunch of druggies. Hey, maybe I can steal their food, and they'll be too hammered to notice!"

Now I know what you are thinking. "How, pray tell, did these poor animals get ahold of catnip? Who would be so careless as to provide such an obviously dangerous substance to these poor, unsuspecting felines?"

The answer is simple. Big Dave forced me to give it to them. I tried to be the voice of reason, but noooo. He thought if we drugged them with the 'nip, we'd get some peace and quiet. Or maybe it was my idea all along. Maybe I talked Big Dave into it. Yep, that could be it.

Anyways, we bought a fresh supply from Petsmart (those enablers!), and became what's known in this day and age as "bad people". I know I should feel guilty, that I should know better than to turn to "drugs" as the answer to a problem. When did I become "the supplier"??

But ever since they got their fix, they have been quiet and calm. No begging for food. No climbing all over us while we're trying to watch our movies. No fighting with each other. They haven't even paid attention to the rabbit (the first time in a month!).

So, as I sit here and type these words, I offer the following advice: Just Say No. Unless, of course, you have cats, and need peace and quiet for the evening. Then I say Catnip them! 'Nip 'em like there's no tomorrow! 'Nip 'em into a wild feline frenzy, then sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. You can also enjoy watching their hangovers in the morning. No, wait. That would be mean... And wrong... but fun!

Useless Bits of Knowledge and Information

2008-04-22T08:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, the theme song to Gilligan's Island was stuck in my head. I don't know why, I don't know how, because I have not seen the show for YEARS! But as hard as I tried, I couldn't stop it. So I started to think about all those other little treasures that are lock up in my brain, and I came up with the following list of useless bits of knowledge and information that are forever imbeded in my grey matter:

The mathematical constance of pi -- to the 18th number. I was either extremely bored one day, or it might have been an extra credit thing for Algebra class.

The soliliquoy from MacBeth (act 5, scene 5) of Tomorrow, Tomorrow and Tomorrow. Darn those English teachers for forcing me to memorize it. Darn them to heck!

The New Colossus, the sonnet found on the Statue of Liberty. Darn those social studies teachers for forcing me to memorize it. Darn them to heck!

Theme songs to the following shows: The Jeffersons, Different Strokes, Gilmore Girls, The Beverly Hillbillys, Scrubs, and countless other shows from the '80s and '90s. Maybe that explains why I didn't get better grades in school.

The atomic weight of cobalt is 58.933. (Thanks, Ghostbusters!)

Moss generally only grows on the north side of trees. So if I'm ever lost in the woods, and need to know which way is north, I look for moss. Then I can travel north and get lost even further.

Consequently, spider webs generally appear on the south side of trees. So if I run into a moldy, spider infested tree while lost in the woods, I can take my pick of whether to walk north and get eaten by a bear, or walk south and be gored by a wild pig. Ah, the great outdoors!

I have memorized almost the entire dialogue of the following films: Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Clue, Finding Nemo (thanks to niece and nephew!), Ghostbusters, and Return to Me and My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Guess I need to find some new hobbies, huh?

If you want to know how they made soap in early Brittish colonies on Barbados and the Caribbean, I'm your gal! (And no, you don't wanna know...)

There's lots of other fun facts and data I could share, but this should give you a pretty good idea of what's taking up space in my very limited brain cavity. It also explains why I often forget the reason I walk into a room, where I put my car keys, why I misplace letters/documents, etc.

Let's face it, when you can sing the entire Gilligan's Island song, everything else seems to pale by comparion, doesn't it?

Things I Don't Understand

2008-04-15T10:36:00.001-07:00

Simple math: There are four bowls. Each bowls contains an equal amount of food. So why do four cats fight over three bowls, and leave one bowl untouched until the other three bowls are empty? Now, picture four cats eyeing one bowl of cat food. How much food will each cat get? Answer: None. They will spend so much time arguing with each other that the dog sneaks in and finishes off the remainder of the food before they realize what's happening.

Scientific observation: How can two people live together and share a house, but only one of them notice when the toilet tissue roll is empty, and take steps to remedy the situation? Same question for empty milk cartons, empty shampoo bottles, and empty paper towel rolls.

Simple logic: There are no clean towels. Your spouse has told you the towels must be washed. Do you (A) ignore the fact that there are no clean towels, take a shower, then drip dry, (B) gather up the dirty towels, wash them, THEN take your shower, (C) ignore the non-clean towel situation, take a shower, then yell for your spouse to find an elusive clean towel, or (D) take a shower first, discover the towel situation after the fact, then proceed to get dressed while still wet. If you answered (B), then you are too logical, and should not be married.

Slippery slope: You have told the dog to stay out of the kitchen. He has heard this command a thousand times. Every time you turn around, he is underfoot in the kitchen. One day, you have a small/medium food spill. You debate whether to call the dog to help clean up, or just grab a mop. You decide to let the dog help, so you call him. He refuses to come near the kitchen. What do you do? Do you confuse him and order him into kitchen (which goes against MONTHS of training), or do you praise him for finally getting it right (at tremendous inconvenience to you)? Maybe the dog just got suspicious because it was the one day he was being told to enter the kitchen, and sensed some kind of entrapment.

Intro to Quantum Physics: You are traveling down a country road. It's not a heavily used road -- mostly just local traffic. You are the only car on the road. Why, then, do rabbits, birds, and squirrels place themselves directly in front of your car, with little to no warning, and expect you to get out of their way? If they waited 5 seconds later, they could cross unscathed. If they had crossed five seconds earlier, they would be watching you continue on your merry way. How do they decide the exact time to cross that will ensure bodily injury to themselves, a heart attack and a guilt trip for you, and a necessary wash for the car?

And finally:
Catch-22: A company has announced a new program to help save me money, because the company truly cares about it's customers. Sounds great, right? So why, when I look at the fine print, does it turn out that I get less service for the same amount of money I'm spending now. Also, the company will now add a separate fee to compensate them for starting the program to begin with, so now my bill is higher than ever before. When I say I don't want the new service, the company says, "Sorry, but we are not offering your old service anymore. You either go with our new service, or you find another company." Funny thing is, they are the only service provider for the area. What to do?

Things That Make Me Laugh

2008-04-10T09:09:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of signs, stickers, and ribbons out there promoting breast cancer awareness. But the best one I've seen to date is a pink bumper sticker which showed two pasties and below the pasties were the words, "Save the Ta-Tas". Somehow, every time I think about that sign, I laugh. So now when I go in for my yearly phyiscal, instead of a breast exam, I'm going to ask for a ta-ta exam. : ) If I'm paying for it, I'll call it whatever I like.

The other day my husband and I were discussing some of the South American countries like Brazil and Columbia. I'm not sure how we got onto this subject. But during our conversation, my husband mentioned something about the "city" of Peru. When I pointed out that Peru is a country, my husband said, "Whatever. It's all one big Spanish continent to me." I laughed because I think that's how many Americans would respond. We're not exactly known for our geographical education. But somehow I think American's would be highly offended if someone mistakenly pointed at the US on a map and called it Canada. Sad but true.

Grafitti, as seen on an overpass near Gainesville, "Dan is a farking, laying, whoor basterd." Now I know our school system is not the greatest, but when kids are misspelling swear words, you know the education system is REALLY in trouble. I'm guessing someone had to repeat a grade. Or two. Maybe not.

Two jokes I saw in a local coffee-news paper:
1. An artic explorer came face to face with a polar bear. Afraid of being eaten, he fell to his knees and started praying. When the polar bear knelt down beside him and started praying too, the man shouted, "It's a miracle!" The polar bear opened one eye and said, "Don't talk while I'm saying grace."

2. Two idiots were hunting in the woods when they lost their way. Stanley had read that when lost, you fire three times in the air and help will come. So he did. Nothing happened. An hour later, he fired three more times. After another hour his friend told him to try a third time. "Okay," said Stanley, "but we're almost out of arrows."

Finally, when I was at the grocery store, I overhead this conversation between father and daughter:

Dad: "Ok honey, which cereal did you want?"
Daughter: "The good kind."
Dad: "Which kind is that?"
Daughter: "The kind that mommy says is good."
Dad: "Ok. Do you know which one Mommy says is good?"
Daughter: "The one that I don't like."
Next I heard the sound of a cell phone being dialed, and the Dad saying, "Please let mommy pick up. Please let mommy be home."

Since these little things brightened up my week, I thought I would share them with you.

Have a great weekend!

Rabbits, Squirrels and In-Laws

2008-04-07T07:40:00.000-07:00

We had a busy week again. Big Dave's folks were visiting for a few days and met Gizmo. My father-in-law was very much amused by her antics, and by the cats' reaction to her. All four cats would like up in a row by the sliding glass door, just watching her, waiting for their chance to attack. They would then fight with each other to gain access to the best vantage points, and in the morning, my FIL would just sit on the couch, drinking his coffee, watching the action. Gizmo has figured out that she is safe from the cats, and will torment them to no end. She runs right at the door, leaps into the air, then does an about-face in the air, lands, then runs like a maniac around the room. This drives the cats CRAZY! She presses her face to the door, daring the cats to take a swipe, then runs back and forth in front of the door from end to end, knowing the cats can't do a thing about it. I swear there are times when I can see her evil smile.
We took the in-laws to a number of yard sales (an activity they really enjoy), and we did find some nice things for very cheap prices. But it was just nice to have them here. We don't get a chance to see them very often, even though we only live 2 1/2 hours away. Every time we make plans to go see them, life has a way of throwing things our way that prevent us from following through. Sad, I know, but true.
In the process of driving around looking for yard sales, we also discovered that my FIL has become a not-so-safe driver. He generally ignores stop signs, tailgates, and gets very impatient when someone is trying turn and there is no turn lane. As he likes to say, "I've been driving for longer than you've been alive. I know what I'm doing. Besides, if I get in a wreck, I'm in a minivan. I'll be fine." I know.. I know.. but that's his logic. In the process of giving us this speech, he ran over a squirrel standing in the middle of the road. A squirrel Big Dave and I saw a half a mile away. If we had been driving, we would have slowed down as we approached, and given the little guy time to get away. My FIL, however, went full speed ahead. And when we mentioned that he could have avoided the squirrel, his response was, "there's plenty more where that came from." Needless to say, we decided that the next time they visit, we'll be sure to cover all the necessary driving. Let the squirrels rejoice!

There are better days ahead... right?

2008-04-03T08:23:00.000-07:00

Ordinarily, I try to stay positive on this blog. I try to keep it light and funny, even quirky. But this morning I read an article on the St. Pete Times website about a woman who just found out her fiance was killed in Baghdad, and it crushed me.

He was due to come home this Friday on leave. He was going to be surprising her with a Bahama cruise, on which they would be getting married.

Here's a link to the article:
http://www.tampabay.com/news/military/article441186.ece

To say she is devestated would be an understatement. Her life will never be the same. For the next few days, weeks, months, even years, she will be haunted by the possibilities of what might have been, what should have been, and what will never be. I ask myself, how will she bounce back from this? How will/can she move on with her life? If I were in her shoes, what would I do? What could I do?

If I thought for one minute that his death had some purpose, then I suppose I could make sense out of such a tragedy. If I believed that all the work being done in Iraq would eventually be proven worthwhile, and that the US really did have a master plan that would benefit the Iraqi people, then this story wouldn't have hit me so hard. If I could just believe, even for one minute, that the military really did have control over the situation, that their goals, any goals, have been met, I might feel better.

But the truth is, I don't believe anything good is going to come out of Iraq. I don't believe there's anything positive about our invasion of that country. And it makes me sick to my stomach to think that the 4,000+ American deaths and tens of thousands Iraqi deaths were all for nothing.

Iraq is turning out to be our generation's Vietnam, and I see no end in sight. And I don't know whether I feel angry or depressed. Maybe I just feel numb.

Please tell me there are better days ahead.

Whew!

2008-03-28T08:03:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy couple of weeks, and I'm looking forward to a little downtime this weekend. We've had things planned for almost every day/night for the past two weeks, and I'm about worn out. Here's a breakdown:

Big Dave's "soundproof" game room is now mostly completed. He's going to add a second door, as the doorway is the weakest part of the room, but once that's done, he'll have the game room he's always wanted. And he just celebrated his birthday this week, so now he'll be a crusty old man playing some World of Warcraft-type game in his very own no-chicks-allowed room. At least he's a happy crusty old man.

Gizmo has settled into her new life with ease. She will now jump up on our bellies and eat treats like raisins and yogurt covered peanuts. She allows us to pet her while she eats. When we enter the room, she runs up to us, expecting us to give her broccoli. We are in the process of training her to use a litterbox. We just started to introduce her to the cats and dog, but we are doing it very slowly, as too much too soon would not be good for her. So far, she has met her look-alike cat Smokey, but only for a few minutes. It went well until Smokey started trying to reach inside Gizmo's cage. At that point, Gizmo let it be known this was not acceptable. So Smokey's training continues.

Lots of business-type things to do, which has kept us busy. I guess I'd rather be busy than not busy enough, but too much work makes for a dull existance. If anyone has any idea how to make money while not working, please let me know. I'd be very interested.

Our to-do list for the house keeps growing (does it EVER get any smaller?), and now includes reorganizing the garage, replanting the front garden, designing a garden area for the front, and adding grass seed to those areas under attack from pocket gophers. Oh, and mopping and re-waxing the floors, which took a pounding from the gameroom workers. Right now, more than ever, I want to be Samantha Stevens (Bewitched). I want to be able to wiggle my nose, and have all the household chores/drudgery done by magic. Will there ever come a day when I can just sit back, relax, and NOT think about all those little things that have yet to be done? If you figure that out, will you let me know?

Don't get me wrong - even though sometimes I feel overwhelmed with everyday life, I am still very grateful for my many blessings. I have a warm and happy home, which I share with a wonderful husband and many spoiled pets. I am gainfully employed, and I have health insurance, as well as good health. These are the things that really matter. In the whole scheme of things, I suppose having to clean a garage or mop a floor is a pretty small price to pay for my good fortune.

He's a She!

2008-03-22T08:18:00.000-07:00

It turns out, Gizmo's a girl. According to the vet, Gizmo lacks the mechanics to be a boy, which was surprising to me because I could have sworn I felt "a pair" when I examined her shortly after she came home.

So now after a week of referring to Gizmo as a him, we have to get used to referring to Gizmo as a her. Poor thing. I hope we didn't contribute to her having an identity crisis or anything.

We don't know her breed (the vet thinks she's a mix) or how big she'll get (we're guessing no more than 5 pounds), or even how old she is (guesstimating 1-2 months), but we do know she's very smart, very curious, and very addicted to broccoli. And as far as I'm concerned, that's all we need to know.

Gizmo the Wonder Rabbit

2008-03-20T09:07:00.000-07:00

Gizmo has been with us for 5 days now, and he's settling into his new life on the back porch. In the short amount of time he has been with us, we have learned the following:

1. He is apparently the rabbit equivalent to Houdini. By day two, he figured out how to open his cage. So we put extra security measures in place (he now has a lock on the door). We also added some toys, so he can amuse himself when he's in there. He's figured out how to dislodge the toys from the top of his cage. I can't help get the feeling that he's smarter than us, and he knows it.
2. He is a broccoli junkie. He will do ANYTHING for broccoli. We can lead him around the room like a dog , if there's a big enough piece of broccoli to help encourage him.
3. He believes he is Mario Andretti.. He uses my jacuzzi as a race track - speeds around the perimeter and races out the other side as fast as he can go. Then he tries to stop on a dime, which is nearly impossible to do on a slick concrete surface. This makes him slide across the room, or forces him to sumersault against the wall. Then he picks himself up and does it all over again. We cringe when we witness this feat, but since he keeps doing it, we figure either he really likes it, or he's not as brilliant as we'd like him to be. Either way, it's exercise for him, and entertainment for us.
4. He has discovered the joys/challenge of getting past the barriers we have put in place for him to keep him away from the jacuzzi. By day three he got past the large cardboard boxes we put in place by testing the strength until he found the weak spots. He figured out that he could jump over the plastic bucket if he had a running head start.
5. He's starting to recognize his name, as when we call him, he grudgingly comes over to see if we have broccoli for him. If we don't, he goes back to racing around the jacuzzi.
6. He loves to play with paper towel cardboard tubes. He'll chew on them, toss them into the air, drag them around, and otherwise abuse them. This tells me he should hold his own pretty well against the cats.
7. Since he has not been to the vet yet (he goes tomorrow), he is in seclusion from the other pets. But they have gotten acquainted by watching each other through the sliding glass doors. He is apparently fascinated by his look-alike cat, Smokey. They spent a lot of time watching each other through the glass, as if sizing each other up. I suspect that they will eventually become great friends, or great enemies. Time will tell.

Welcome home, Gizmo!

2008-03-16T10:24:00.000-07:00

Today, I shall tell you the story of how Gizmo the bunny found a home.

He was sitting in a cage, along with 4 of his fellow rabbits, watching the people pass by. There was a lot going on outside the cage -- lots of people mulling around, and children were running around the aisles. He kept hearing the word "auction", but didn't know what it meant. Occasionally, people would stop and admire him through the wire. Children would poke their fingers into the cage and try to stroke him. "Oh, what a pretty bunny you are!" Then they would bend over the clipboard next to the cage, and write something down. Gizmo didn't know what was happening, but he was scared because of all the loud noises and unfamiliar people.

After a while, two more people passed by the cage. The man looked closely at Gizmo for some time. The man then called to the woman, "Babe, come here and take a look at this bunny! It looks just like our cat, Smokey!" The woman came up and peered into the cage. "You're right," she said. "It's uncanny. Same colors, same pattern -- it even has the same white feet! Poor thing, it looks like it's scared to death!" She continued on down the line, looking at other items laid out on the tables.

The man, however, continued to stare at Gizmo. "It's too weird. It looks EXACTLY like her! Hmm... I wonder.." The man went to the clipboard, and wrote something down. He then ran to join the woman. He leaned down and started talking to her. She turned and looked back at the cage. The man continued talking. Eventually, the woman smiled and nodded.

Throughout the night, the man kept coming back to the cage, and reading the clipboard. Twice he wrote something else on the clipboard. After what seemed like eternity, the man and woman came back to the cage together. The man wore a big smile. The woman smiled at the man. Together, they opened up Gizmo's cage, lifted him out, and placed him in the new cage. Then the man leaned down and said, "Don't worry, little guy, you're coming home with us. You'll get all the carrots you can eat!" And together, they walked to their car, with Gizmo between them.

And so, Gizmo left behind all the lights and loud noises and prodding fingers. He now inhabits a big cage all by himself, and is never short of a piece of carrot or apple to nibble on. Eventually he will be introduced to his fellow residents (the dog and cats) but for now he is getting used to his new surroundings.

And he lived happily ever after.

The end.

I'm An Idiot

2008-03-11T07:58:00.001-07:00

This morning started out like any other day. I got up, I went to the bathroom, then I started getting dressed. Put my shirt on, put my pants on, then tried to put on my socks. Only they weren't fitting right. No matter how I angled my foot, I just could not get 'em on my feet. "Oh come on," I thought. "I've done this hundreds of times before. What is the issue here?!"

In exasperation, I sat down on the bed and took a look at my feet. Finally, I saw what the problem was.

I was trying to put my bra on my feet.

Perhaps I wasn't as well rested as I thought.

The Other Woman

2008-03-10T06:17:00.000-07:00

Like many wives, I've had to come to terms with the fact that my husband has a mistress.

I can definitely understand what Big Dave sees in her. She's cute, has incredible green eyes, can strut her stuff like no one's business, and is completely head over heals in love with Big Dave. She hangs on to his every word and she follows him wherever he goes. I've caught them in bed on several occasions, and he makes no secret of the fact that he loves her too.

You might think this could be a problem in our marriage. That I should be jealous, vindictive, and upset. But the truth is, it's something I have learned to live with. Or rather, I have learned to just live with her. You see, the "mistress" is one of our cats, Smokey.

She has laid claim to him, and doesn't care who knows it. She follows him like a dog. If he's in another room and she's can't be in there with him, she cries for him. Her favorite pastime -- tunneling under the covers, laying right beside him and getting toasty warm.

You might think to yourself, "but she's just a cat.. it can't be that bad." But here's the thing - it is so obvious that she thinks of ME as the "other woman", and she definitely doesn't like to share him with me. The fact that I have senority over her makes no difference to her. The fact that *I* was the one who first brought her into the house also means nothing. There are some days when I look at her and I swear I can almost hear her plotting ways to get rid of me so she can have him all to herself. She's obsessed -- think Fatal Attraction Meets Aristocats.

I supposed, all things considered, I should just be grateful that we don't have a pet rabbit.

My Bucket List

2008-03-04T06:50:00.000-08:00

A while back, Dave and I saw the movie "The Bucket List". It's about 2 terminally ill guys who create a list of things they want to do before they "kick the bucket". Naturally, it got me thinking about all the things I want to do/experience before I "punt the pail", so here's my list (at least what I have thought of so far...)

1. Eat my way through Italy (mostly Florence or Tuscany) because what better place to gorge yourself on Italian food than Italy?
2. Skydive, because you should always do something that scares you.
3. Make a real difference in someone's life. I'm just not sure how to accomplish this.
4. Create a non-profit/organization to help match older shelter animals to older citizens. It gives these animals a much needed second chance, and it will provide much needed companionship to those who are lonely. All funds would go towards the vet care/maintenance of these animals, so the cost would not be burdensome to the new guardians/owners.
5. Sing on stage at the legendary Carnegie Hall (my apologies to my future audience ahead of time)
6. Eat my way through Belgium, one chocolate shoppe at a time.
7. Be part of a radio mystery show, something like a Sherlock Holmes meets Monk.
8. Scuba dive in Hawaii
9. Canoe the glaciers in Alaska.
10. Attend the Montreal Comedy Festival
11. Tour New Zealand
12. Play baseball in Candlestick Park (now Monster Park)
13. Be a runner with the Olympic Torch
14. Make healthcare affordable for everyone.
15. Make amends with Santa (my naughty list should be pretty long by this point)
16. Build the biggest dog park ever, and name it after James Herriot.
17. Go on a photo safari in Africa
18. Golf at Pebble Beach.
19. Write a book that will be cherished by my friends and family for many years to come.
20. Adopt a school, so the students won't be affected so much by budget cuts -- they'll be sure to have all the supplies/computers/books, etc they'll need.

I'm sure I'll add more as time goes by, but hopefully I can cross several of these off over the next few years.

In the meantime, what's your Bucket List?

Jury Duty Calls

2008-02-26T08:04:00.000-08:00

On Monday I had the privilege of enjoying jury duty (YAY ME!). I left the house at 6:30am, and didn't return until about 5 pm. The hours in between were filled with waiting. Waiting for the lights to change, waiting for other cars to turn or to decide which lane they wanted to be in. Then waiting in line at the "security" checkpoint. Waiting for my name to be called as part a jury pool. Waiting in the courtroom until the lawyers selected the jury. Then back down to the jury chambers to wait to be picked for another pool. I never did get selected for a jury, but I think I've come up with a good list of ways to survive waiting while on jury duty:

1. Bring a sweater. No mater what the temp is outside, inside will be freezing cold, as high electric bills are a great way to spend taxpayers dollars.
2. Bring your favorite book, magazine, Ipods, Gameboys -- anything that might amuse you for up to 8-10 hours. Don't rely on the Court's selection of periodicals. You could be stuck reading magazines you would ordinarily never pick up. I actually saw a big strapping FBI man who was so bored he was reading the Martha Stewart Living magazine.
3. Bring non-perishable food (granola bars, snack mix, pretzels, nuts, etc.). Don't assume there is a cafeteria on the premisis, or that food is within easy walking distance. We only had vending machines, and a 6-8 block walk to the nearest diners. While I was lucky and got a 2-hour lunch break, most everyone else got about a 30-40 minute break, which didn't leave much time for eating after walking to get food.
4. Think good thoughts. Complaining isn't going to change anything. You will be stuck there just like everyone else. Whining will only annoy your fellow waiters. Keep reminding yourself that you are fulfilling a civic duty, and that you could be in worse places -- the waiting room at the ER, the waiting room at the airport, the line at the DMV.
5. Use the bathroom facilities whenever you can. You never know when you might be called into a pool, and once you are in the courtroom, you cannot leave. Empty that bladder every chance you get.
6. Make nice with the court employees. They don't want to be there anymore than you do. They have a job to do, and they try to do it to the best of their ability. The more you cooperate, the better than can do their job. And if they like you, they may give you a cookie. Or a donut.
7. Keep in mind that the jury duty process is not set up to be the most convenient for you. It is set up to ensure that everyone receives a fair trials. Sometimes the wheels of justice turn slowly. If this means extra waiting on your part, so be it. If you were the defendent, wouldn't you want to make sure your jury was going to be fair and impartial?
8. Be VERY grateful you are neither the victim nor the defendent. While our legal process is better than some, it leaves much room for improvement.

On the amusing side of jury duty, we had some people who were dead ringers for some celebs, a Robert DeNiro look-alike, a Katharine Hepburn double, and a JohnMcCain twin. Go figure!

Why I Want To Live In Disney World

2008-02-19T10:18:00.000-08:00

1. Clean up crews are provided for landscaping, bathrooms, and kitchens.
2. It's the happiest place on earth!
3. You can act like a kid, and no one will hold it against you.
4. You can eat like a kid, and no one will hold it against you.
5. Grown up worries like mortgages, insurance, and paying bills are non-existant within the Magic Kingdom.
6. Imagination is welcomed -- even encouraged.
7. Unlike travel in the real world, when you board a spacecraft or railroad at Disney, you arrive safely back where you started from -- with fewer delays and no lost luggage.
8. It's the only place on earth you can wear a hat with mouse ears, and not look like an idiot. Or care that you look like an idiot.
9. Everything is there for your amusement/enjoyment. If you don't like something, you can move on to the next thing.
10. Real world worries like war, poverty, and disease do not exist in Disney. Mickey Mouse will never grow old, Pluto will never go to that big Doghouse in the sky, and Donald Duck will never need anti-anxiety meds.

Tax Dollars At Work...

2008-02-14T08:52:00.000-08:00

True story:

Big Dave and I were out and about doing errands one day, and we ended up driving along side a police car. No big deal, happens all the time, right? Except THIS police car was actually marked as follows:

SHERIFF'S OFFICE -- HOMELAND SECURITY

The car they were driving? A Toyota Hybrid. Now, I don't know about you, but I cannot see terrorists being particularily frightened or even remotely concerned about being chased down by a Hybrid. Not only that, but can you see a Hybrid outrunning ANYTHING except maybe a squirrel?

Freaky Dreams

2008-02-04T09:20:00.000-08:00

I don't know if you know this about me, but I tend to have some VERY weird dreams. They range from the morbid, to the impossible, to just inexplicably bizarre. I'll give you some examples:

The bizarre: I am an eggplant (I'm not DRESSED as an eggplant, I AM an eggplant), riding a bicycle, trying to catch up to the #9 bus because I'm late for a Fruit of the Loom photo shoot. I know... I know.. there is no eggplant in the Loom gang, but what can I say? I can't help it if the dreams are wildly inaccurate.

The morbid: I am driving down a windy road, when all of a sudden my car veers out of control and into a ditch. The car then bursts into flame, and my spirit watches from the road while my body burns in the car. Unfortunately, this one I've had more than once, and was responsible for my insomnia for a good 6 months. I still don't know why I keep dreaming it.

The impossible: I am a spy for the Russian mafia, and my task is to infiltrate McDonalds so that my bosses can sell high-tech weaponry in the drive-thru. I get yelled at by my McD manager because I'm filling the fry cups with too many fries, and just as I'm about to deliver some mafia justice, my next customer is one who orders the weapons. I hand him the bag, and he becomes the 1,000,000 customer of the store. Bells and whistles go off, balloons fall from the sky, and a very unhappy former KGB agent is suddenly surrounded by McDs dignitaries, who are trying to get him out of the car for photos and a press conference.

The funny: I am supposed to give a speech to the Nat'al Assoc of Dry Cleaners and Laundries on the importance of always wearing clean underwear while driving a car. The title of my speech? Someone Cares - Wear Clean Underwear.

I have told Big Dave about some of these, and he seems to share my sentiments: some things are better left unexplained.

But I would like to know what's the story with the eggplant. If you have any thoughts, let me know.

My Desk is Who I Am

2008-01-27T16:30:00.000-08:00

If you ever want to gain better insight into the personality that is me, you only need to glance upon my desk. It can give you so much insight. On my desk are the following:

A coffee mug with the phrase "Innocent Bystander". It's currently holds my scissors. It's symbolic of my sharp wit, I suppose : )-

A mug with the phrase "Mug of the Soon To Be Rich and Famous". In actuality, I'd rather be just rich, not famous. It holds my rulers and some ancient Middle Eastern potshards, given to me by my high school English teacher, who always encouraged my writing. It's there to remind me of other places and people out there -- that my neck of the woods is indeed a small one.

A green M&M character coffee mug, bought from the M&M store in Times Square. It reminds me of the close calls we had while riding in taxicabs to and from Laguardia. A thrilling ride, but not one I'd like to repeat.

A Grad Nite '92 mug, back from the old high school days. It holds some personal notes, including an old note from the first bunch of flowers Dave ever bought me. Reminds me of the good old days with good friends.

A Dr. Evil doll, complete with Mr. Bigglesworth and walkie talkie accessories. When you push the button, he says the following: 1. 2. Throw me a freakin' bone here 3. I'm the boss, need the info. What can I say, I was going through my Austin Power's phase at the time.

A cat lamp, complete with minature cats hanging from the lampshade. A Christmas gift from the in-laws. It was the Christmas I was innundated with cat-themed gifts.

A small green dinosaur with the words, "Long Live Wash" added to it's side. If you are not a fan of Serenity, you will not understand. If you're a Browncoat, you'll shed a tear and sing the themesong from Firefly while getting drunk on Mother's Milk.

A post it note with the phrase, "In the dark where fairy tales live.." It's a phrase I saw somewhere, and really liked. I mean to incorporate it into a story someday.

A siberian husky tape dispenser that doesn't dispense tape very well, but is nice to look at.

A small sign that says, "What would McGyver Do?" I put it on my desk after re-watching all of the classic '80s show McGyver. Richard Dean Anderson was my first love. I was 8 or 9 at the time, and he was the only boy I could tolerate. I loved the fact he was so smart and so handy. I wanted to grow up to be an adventurer just like him.

Pet nail trimmer, which I use to trim papers. Hey, everything should have more than just 1 use. If not, you're not being creative enough. : )

Hey, I never said I was normal. Slightly weird, Yes. Eclectic tastes, Definitely. Somewhat disturbed, possibly. But normal? Never.

When I Grow Up I Want To Be Just Like...

2008-01-21T08:13:00.000-08:00

If I could be the person I really wanted to be, the person I should be, then I would try to be more like these people:

Mark Twain, who never lost his sense of humor, even after life no longer gave him much to laugh about. He was also pretty good about re-inventing himself, as during his lifetime he was a steamboat captain, writer, printer, lecturer, entrepreneur, reporter, and iconic wit. He didn't mind failing, so long as he learned what he had to learn for the next big idea.

Milton Hershey, who failed many, many, many times in his quest for making the best chocolate, but persevered in spite of incredible odds. The result: the unequaled perfection of the Hershey bar and chocolates, a product that gives millions of people great enjoyment. He also started the Hershey School, to provide a better life for orphans.

Marie Curie, who was the first person to win TWO nobel prizes, but also faced incredible odds as both a woman and a Jew. Fortunately, she had extreme faith in her abilities as a scientist, and ultimately discovered radium. Without her, we would not have many of the diagnostic tools we have today, including xrays, radiology etc, which has saved countless lives. Her dedication to her work should always be an inspiration.

Harper Lee, author of To Kill A Mockingbird, who refused to write a sequel and pander to the publishing industry. As she stated, "Mockingbird still says what it has to say; it has managed to survive the years without preamble." It was her first and only book, and no book has ever generated as much controversy over the years. And yet, it still stands today as America's greatest novel.

Martin Luther King, Medgar Evers, and all those who fought for civil rights, in spite of beatings, jail, threats, and even death. They faced the ugliness of human nature, and yet still believed enough in people as a whole to push for equal rights for all.

Ghandi, who believed in making the worlda better place one person at a time. He was also a great proponent of civil disobedience -- if you didn't like what your government was doing, you had the right to tell them so, and work towards a greater good.

Dhali Lama, whose love of all things is unparalleled. He is a great student of human nature, and believes that each of us has the ability to find our own happiness by reaching out to others and doing good work.

Lise Meitner, one of the scientists whose early work on nuclear physics helped in the eventual creation of the A-bomb, refused an offer to work on the project at Los Alamos, declaring "I will have nothing to do with a bomb." Because of her anti-bomb stance, she was forced to find work in Europe after the war, and watched as her fellow scientists received Nobel Prizes for "their" work in nuclear fission. She later stated she cared nothing for prizes or accolades, only for working towards the betterment of science. She is best known for being "a physicist who never lost her humanity."

John Muir, naturalist and preservationist, who helped ensure the protection of the giant Redwoods in California, was one of the first people to recognize the delicacy of ecosystems, and one of the first to witness man's influence on those systems. He lobbied President Roosevelt to create a park where man's influence would be limited, and where the last of the old growth forest would remain untouched. Because of his influence, we can now enjoy all of the wonderful parks and forests maintained by the Nat'al Park Service.

I think I have a long way to go...

If I were on Inside the Actor's Studio...

2008-01-15T08:25:00.000-08:00

I don't watch a lot of TV (I DVR most of the shows I want to see), but I am kind of an addict when it comes to the Bravo show "Inside the Actor's Studio". For those of you who have not seen it, it's basically a Q&A session with an actor, hosted by James Lipton. They talk about everything, from their childhoods, to their start in Hollywood, to their film/TV roles, to their future projects. They discuss the art of acting in great detail (sometimes too much detail), but my favorite part of the show is the end, when Mr. Lipton quizzes the actor on their likes/dislikes. You find out some very interesting things...

So it got me thinking about how I would answer Mr. Lipton, should I ever become a guest on "Inside..." I know... I know.. the chances are extremely remote, but I wanted to be prepared should the event ever arise. So, for your viewing enjoyment, here are my answers to the Actor's Studio quiz:

What is your favorite word? chocolate
What is your least favorite word? No or Can't
What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? creativity/humor
What turns you off? cruelty, spitefullness
What is your favorite curse word? son of a *****
What sound or noise do you love? wind blowing through Australian pine trees
What sound or noise do you hate? telephone ringing, anyone/thing crying in pain
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? radio performer (like old time comedy/mystery radio)
What profession would you not like to do? politician/ambassador
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? It's good to see you, but there's been some mistake. You'll have to go back.

What would your answers be?

Out of the mouths of babes...

2008-01-09T15:35:00.000-08:00

My five year old niece was trying tell me about her ballet lessons. She was in the middle of her story when, in the background, I could hear my 2 year old nephew start to cry and carry on as only a two year old can. He was apparently jealous that his sister got to use the phone first.

At this point, I could barely hear what my niece was saying. After a couple of minutes of trying to continue her story in spite of the noise, my niece, sighed loudly and said, "Aunt Kathy, he's just so... so...exasprat... exsparaging... " The word was on the tip of her tongue.

"Do you mean 'exasperating'?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's it!" she cried joyfully. "My brother is so exsparaging!"

Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have another journalist in the making. Heaven help us!

A Day In The Life of a Cat

2008-01-07T08:52:00.000-08:00

Sleep. Eat. Stretch. Curl up with humans. Sleep some more. Eat. Puke on any surface that is not easily cleanable. Race around the house with no particular purpose in mind other than to break things and drive the humans crazy. Wait for the humans to take the dog outside, then scoot through the semi-open door.
Freedom. Explore in the gardens and dig up plants. Check out what's under the cars (where the humans can't reach). Wander through the woods. Enjoy the sunshine. Savor hearing the humans call out in vain. Return only when everything on the feline to-do list has been accomplished.
Allow human to escort you back inside. Jump on bed. Yawn. Knead covers. Sleep some more. Hear activity in the kitchen. Slowly meander towards the sound of food being opened and cooked. It could be tuna. Loudly express opinion regarding the sharing of the food. If food not forthcoming, express opinion louder. Volume + intensity = higher success rate.
Return to bed. Sleep again. Hear TV in the next room. Stretch and go investigate. Jump on human. Insist on sharing blanket. Curl around human's leg. Use human as heated pillow. Sleep. A few hours later, human escorts you to garage, where you are to remain for the evening (aka: Lock up). You vow to get revenge by throwing up on the human's shoe's tomorrow. Curl up and sleep in kayak.

In the morning, repeat.

Top 5 functions of a cat:

1. Couch anchor: Make sure all couches/chairs remain in their current positions. You never know when furniture might decide to move by itself.
2. Biological heater: On those cold winter nights, you'll always be toasty warm with a few cats laying on/near you.
3. Dog tormentor: Never let a dog get too self-assured. A cat will be sure to bring some perspective to your canine, and let him know his ranking in the household.
4. Bug catcher: The bigger the bug, the better. The more dangerous the bug, the better. The more pinchers, stingers, and otherwise harmful appendages, the better. Cats love a challenge.
5. Sleeping aid: Lay down in bed. Pull covers over body. Allow cat to find comfortable position (usually sleeping on head). Sleep and in a few hours wake up with a mouth full of cat hair and a contented friend.

Manatees, Christmas and the New Year (Oh My!)

2008-01-02T07:27:00.000-08:00

In case you are wondering, that is me, and swimming next to me is a genuine Florida manatee, possibly the gentlest and most amazing creature to ever glide through the crystal clear waters of the Homosassa River.

This year, I finally managed to get Dave something that he really wanted and really liked for Christmas. (No small feat, I can assure you). I took him on a See the Manatees tour, which put us smack dab in the middle of a group of 6-8 manatees. We followed all the rules carefully, and never chased or bothered them in any way. We just let them come to us, and the result was unbeliveable. These magnificent creatures swam all around us, allowed us the gentlest of touches, and generally amazed us with their immense size yet gentle natures. They were more curious about us, I think. In the end, as we tried to get back on the boat, they blocked our path because they wanted us to keep rubbing their bellies. The more attention we gave them, the more they wanted. It was an incredible experience, one that left us in awe and respect of these wonderful creatures. If you ever get the chance, I highly recommend trying it for yourself. It's the thrill of a lifetime.

Now let's talk about the holidays. I have but one word to describe them -- WHEW! We ended up spending 3 days driving from house to house, trying to squeeze in as many people as we could for some quality holiday time, and in the end, we were exhausted. But, we were able to do many important things while in town, including taking Big Dave's parents to the "Ice" exhibit at the Gaylord Palms (our gift to them), which they enjoyed very much. Afterwards we pigged out on the awesome buffet at the hotel -- you haven't lived until you've tried their apple crepes, or their chocolate fondue fountain. Good stuff. We spent Christmas Eve Day with my parents (at a Chinese Buffet), then spent Christmas Day with the inlaws, then drove back Christmas night. We couldn't leave the "kids" unsupervised for too long. I need a holiday from my holiday.

Fortunately New Year's Eve was a little more quiet. We spent it at home, trying to catch up on some of the shows we DVRd over the past few months (Moonlight, Chuck, Bones, etc). We stayed up late enough to see the ball drop at Times Square, then Dave went to his game room and I went to bed. What can I say, we're PARTY people! : )

I spent New Year's Day using up some of my gift certificates. Picture it: Me, unsupervised, in a book store with gift cards, a discount card AND New Year sales, pumped up on mocha coffee. It wasn't pretty, people. Not pretty at all. I've got a nice little stack of new things to read, but I want to take the time to apologize to the book store employees who tried to be helpful, but foolishly got in my way. Sorry, but Momma needed some new tomes, and ... well... ya just don't get in the way of a book addict when she's trying to look at the new fiction. Ya just don't do it. : )

My Letter to Santa

2007-12-17T09:55:00.000-08:00

Dear Santa,

I know you probably have my name on the “naughty list” (no doubt for the many reasons stated on your dossier), but let me explain…
I try to be good all year, I really do, but some things are just beyond my control. For example:

People generally annoy me. Exhibit A: the crazy drivers, who don’t seem to understand what a turn signal is used for, or what a red light means. Exhibit B: the salespeople who remain on the phone with friends while ignoring me, the paying customer. How about the ones who roll their eyes and “tsk” when I ask them to look for an item in the storeroom? How about the fact that I cannot shop anywhere without being asked my phone number, my email, or my zip code. Since when did shopping require the exchange of so much personal information? Exhibit C: the cashier who, without the help of a calculator, cannot figure out how much change to give on a $2.50 purchase after I hand him a $10 bill. Am I’m really required to be nice to these people 24-7? Can you check the fine print on that, please? There must be a fine-print weasel clause somewhere on the contract.

The world is a crazy place. There seem to be too many situations that require anger, outrage, and disbelief. I cannot help but get angry when I read about a child who was tortured to death by a parent because he/she “wouldn’t stop crying” – a child who was returned to that parent by DCF because of a breakdown in the system. I will always be outraged when an animal is starved and beaten, and the abuser is allowed to walk free because of insufficient laws. I cannot believe that people will ignore a homeless person on the street, but will spend money on tabloids to find out the latest news on their favorite movie star. My only wish is that I will never lose the ability to feel anger, outrage and disbelief when it really matters.

The flesh is weak, and the temptation is too strong. For every time I called my brother a bad name, for every time I stole something from his room, for every time I tried to get him in trouble with our parents by blaming him for something that I did, I couldn’t help myself. He usually deserved it. If he wasn’t making fun of me, he was punching me, calling me names, or, worse yet, just ignoring me. Our whole relationship during childhood was based upon a pyramid of lies, deceptions, and half-truths. But for all the bickering, for all the fighting, for all the battles we waged, we were always there for each other. We had each other’s back. I could always count on my big brother when it really mattered. And he knew that I would defend him against others no matter what. And we always knew, deep, deep down, the love was always there.

But sometimes, it is my fault. I know I have been guilty of making fun of others – some deserved it, some didn’t. I will tease and torment my husband for my own amusement, but generally he’s a good sport about it, and doesn’t seem to mind too much, which is probably why I married him. I will, on occasion, answer the phone with a foreign accent, in an attempt to liven up the day. I make up my own names for things, especially if I believe the “normal” names to be too boring (ie: flutterby instead of butterfly, flog instead of golf, or skissors instead of scissors) This trait confuses and exasperates my husband more than anything else, I think. It’s probably why I do it. I will often make up my own rules when playing a game (Monopoly is more fun when you’re an playing an Enron exec who just happens to be president of the bank, and can take funds at leisure). I can be very stubborn, short tempered, and I tend to put off doing unpleasant tasks (ie: chores). Keep in mind, I am only mentioning those indiscretions that are rated PG-13 or better. (the R-rated will need to be put in a different kind of letter).

In short, yes, I have been naughty this year, Santa. I have been selfish, greedy, and a little bit grumpy. But for all my weaknesses, for all my faults, I was hoping you could still see your way to granting me just one Christmas wish. Just one simple wish. Well, two actually.
1. World Peace. I know you’ve been asked about this one many times, and it’s still a work in progress, but it would be really great if this was the year it could be accomplished.
2. Bring our troops home safe and sound to their families. I know this kind of ties into wish #1, but just in case you can’t deliver #1, than you can at least try for #2.

Thank you Santa.

Giving VS Donating

2007-12-12T10:04:00.000-08:00

This Christmas season, I started thinking about the way in which I give gifts, and the way I receive them.

Most other seasons, I'd go out, buy a gift (or gift card), and send it on it's way without another thought. This year, however, I pondered turning that "gift" into something that was truly needed and wanted. Let's face it -- most of the gifts we get during the holidays are things we don't need, things that will just sit in a closet or in a room -- unopened and unused. I kept thinking about what a waste that was -- a waste of money, time (spent shopping) and energy (in wrapping, mailing, etc). So, this year I broke with tradition, and decided instead to give donations as gifts. Basically, I took the money I'd normally spend on gifts, and donated instead to worthwhile charities in honor of the "recipient". This year, the following charities benefitted: St. Jude Children's Hospital, Nature Conservancy, World Wildlife Foundation, and Big Cat Rescue. Next year, I'll choose all new charities.

And I gotta tell ya, at the end of this season's "shopping", I felt very good. Better than I have in a long time. I felt I was helping to make a difference, instead of adding to the problem. Maybe next year, in addition to cash, I could spend some time volunteering. Spend those "mall hours" at a charity doing REAL work. How great would that be? 'Tis a season for giving, after all! : )

A Day In The Life...of Koda the Wondermutt

2007-12-07T10:53:00.000-08:00

7am
I get up from the couch and stretch. I accompany this with a loud and prolonged yawn. I I meander towards the bedroom door, and start pacing back and forth (making sure to click toenails on the floor as loud as possible, so they’ll hear the urgency in my step). After 5 minutes, I sigh loudly, and bang against the door, curled up, impatient for Them to awaken.
7:05am.
They emerge. They are groggy and walk unsteady. They seem to be moving on auto-pilot as they reach for shoes and leash. I start dancing around in circles, crashing into furniture, legs, etc. I allow only the briefest of seconds for Them to get the leash in place. When They open the door, I leap out, yanking Them with me. I lead Them to my private facilities and make Them wait while I spend much time on sniffing, eating grass, barking at squirrels, etc. After accomplishing all my other important tasks, I am now ready to commence #1 and #2.
7:15
They lead me back into the house. I follow them into the room where they keep my food, and watch while they measure, scoop, and place the food into my bowl. I want to be sure they don’t skimp. No matter what the vet says, I need more food. I must have more food. I will have more food.
7:20
They feed the cats. I wait until they leave the room, then attempt to steal from the cats. They catch me eating from the cats’ bowls. I am banished to the living room.
7:25
I watch as they make coffee. I feel I deserve coffee. I give them my best pleading look, my best starved expression, my biggest “sad eyes”, but no. They give me nothing. They tell me coffee is bad for me. So then why do THEY drink it?
8am
They sit down at the computers, getting ready for another day. I join them, laying down across their feet or wedged against the chair, making movement nearly impossible. They cannot leave the room without my company.
12:30
Lunch break. I graciously allow them to prepare lunch, then proceed to situate myself directly beneath their plates, should any morsels find themselves falling to the floor. If food is not forthcoming, I give them the "Woe Is Me" look. This generally works well. I volunteer for kitchen floor cleanup.
1:00pm
Back to the computers. I wonder how they can stare at a screen for so long. What can be so imporant when there's so many things outside to see and do? There are squirrels to chase, walks to take, dogs to bark at, and people to sniff. Not to mention oodles of trees and shrubs to lift a leg against. They don't seem to understand this. I sigh and drape myself across the wheels of Their chairs.
2:00pm
Potty break. I once again lead Them outside, where I do everything except what I'm supposed to be doing (which is #1 and #2). I eat grass. I bark at things are not there. I sniff every leaf, every tree, every insect. They finally catch me and lead me back into the house. They hand me a Greenie. I suppose this is some sort of bribe, inducing me to keep quiet and out of their way. It works for about 15 minutes.
5:00
They finally turn off the computers. He goes to retrieve my food. She gets ready for my walk. Do I have Them well trained, or what?
6:00
They sit down to dinner. Once again, I station myself at their feet - waiting. My hynotic eyes begin their work. It's only a matter of moments.
7:00pm
He is nowhere to be found. Probably in his game room again. He has to come out sometime, so I will wait. But there She is -- on the couch, reading, ready for some quality time with me. I leap and land on Her, all 67 pounds of me. I know she appreciates this gesture of love and admiration. But why are Her eyes bulging out of her head?
9:00pm
They are watching TV. I personally don't get it. What's so interesting about a box that emits funny noises and strange sights? I'm only interested when I see a dog or other animal on screen. That's when I sit up and take notice. I give a little "woof" to let them know I rule THIS house. Yessiree, this place is my domain. What? Oh. She is making me get down off the couch. I thought she understood that part of my job around here is to be "couch anchor". Guess she forgot again. I'll give her a little reminder later.
11:00pm
Time for bed. I start my sneak attack into the bedroom. I attempt to get on the bed, but She is wise to me. She makes me leave the room and closes the door in my droopy face. Does she not love me anymore? I'll show her. I'll wake her up an extra hour earlier tomorrow.
11:10pm
I circle the couch 5 times before collapsing. What a day. It's hard work supervising them all day. How would they ever live without me? I shudder to think. I close my eyes and dream of big open fields and an endless supply of chewie bones.

Things I Think About

2007-12-02T15:32:00.000-08:00

These are some random thoughts that just popped into my head the last few days. I thought I'd share them:

1. How can an ant can lift something many times his body weight, and not get back strain? How fair is that? And why don't we have that ability during a move?
2. The people who say there's nothing wrong with our healthcare system have their healthcare completely paid for by the government/taxpayers. Coincidence? I think not.
3. Why, when given the choice between tile, linoleum, bare floors, or carpet, does a cat ALWAYS choose the throw up on the carpet??
4. Why is the "season of giving" automatically equated with "how much" is spent on the giving?
5. Why do we spend so much time worrying about what others think of us, when we don't know for certain what those people really think? Or do we just all tend to have guilty consciences?
6. A new program should be implemented at all movie theaters: each patron is given a paintball gun before the show. Any talkers, cell phone users, etc. can and should be fired upon at will by the other patrons. The dry cleaning bill is the responsibility of the recipient of said paint balls.
7. I had a wonderful idea for a new reality show: It's called TV Exec Makeover. We take a bunch of overpaid, creativity-draining TV executives (you know, the ones who always have "suggestions" to make on how to improve the shows that don't need improving, canceling the shows that shouldn't be canceled, and promoting the shows that should never have been aired). We downgrade their jobs to being set hands on a moderately popular TV show, and force them to do the work of the Grunts. If they last the season (as underpaid, underappreciated, overworked, etc), they can return to their job. If they don't, they are thrown out of the TV business. I think this would go a long ways towards keeping the worthy execs, who really like TV and are dedicated to making it good. Let's bring back watchable TV, people!!
8. If someone asks for your opinion, and you give it, and they don't like it, should you really be surprised?
9. Why is it that the government is always so quick to cash your checks, but always so slow in giving you refunds?
10. When I was 10, I thought 30 was old. When I was 20, I thought 40 was old. When I was 30, I thought, my god, can I really be getting older? When did this start happening?? And why wasn't I told sooner that this was going to happen?

Lessons Learned from "A Christmas Story"

2007-11-27T08:02:00.000-08:00

All I Need To Know About Life I Learned From Watching the Movie “A Christmas Story”

Question Authority. Just because your mother insists “You’ll shoot your eye out” doesn’t mean you will. Go for the BB gun anyway.
Try new foods – that meatloaf may very well be delicious if you give it a try. Eating like a piggy is optional.
Expand your vocabulary. Your dad can help you with this. You’ll learn soon enough what’s acceptable to say in front of others – at the risk of getting the soap treatment. This is also a great way to spend quality time with the “old man”.
Actions speak louder than words. A triple dog dare must always be answered, even if it means getting your tongue stuck on a metal pole in the schoolyard.
Anticipating something is usually better than getting it. That secret decoder pin you’ve been waiting for may not be as great as you hope. Learn to accept the disappointment gracefully.
Enjoy the journey, and focus less on the destination. Just because the store is closing in 10 minutes doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy the parade. Besides, Santa may not be in the jolliest of moods when you do sit on his lap. Ho. Ho. Ho.
Be kind of animals. Otherwise they may steal your turkey and force you to eat a smiling Chinese duck.
Stand up to bullies. This will also allow you to practice your newly expanded vocabulary, and gain the respect of your peers. Just watch out for your mom.
Learn to be gracious and appreciative. Although that hideous bunny suit may be a “pink nightmare” to you, think about how much enjoyment Aunt Clara got in making it for you, and how cute your mother thinks you look.
Sex education can be fun, especially when you glance upon a leg-lamp’s naught “gleam of electric sex” in the window.
Learn from your parents. They can teach you useful things like how tame a menacing furnace, replace a fuse, or change a tire in less than 4 minutes. Learning their swear words is optional, and should only be attempted in the most dire circumstances. Otherwise, you’ll risk getting the soap treatment from Mom.
Learn a foreign language. If for no other reason than to learn to properly pronounce the word “FRAGILE” (No, it’s not Italian).
The best things come in small packages. Just because something comes in a big box doesn’t mean it’s a “major award”. It could be just a lamp.
Bribery rarely works to your advantage. Just because you give your teacher the biggest fruit basket doesn’t mean you’ll get that A+ on your Christmas Theme.
Some things can’t be fixed – you matter how much glue you use.