A thousand words

It would be boring for me to tell you how I've wanted to blog for days and weeks, but haven't found the time, or how I couldn't think of anything blog about...so let's just assume going forward that anytime it's been more than a week between blogs, I feel that way - deal?

In case you haven't yet discovered the simple pleasure of Patti Digh's 37 Days blog (I've only mentioned it here a gazillion times), I urge you to check out the month of stories she just posted. It's from one of her other projects, in which she and two friends post a photo and a note every day for a year (you can read more on her site). Just a photo and a note.

How amazing would it be to have a photo and a note for an entire year? Imagine if you had one for every day of your life? Involving two other people is genius, of course, because it holds you accountable. Accountable to this thing that you supposedly want to do but will forget about or bump to the bottom of the list when things get crazy...what I'm saying is that I want to do that.

Maybe that's sort of the idea I had when I started my photo blog a couple years ago. My photo blog that I have since deleted because I couldn't stick with it. Maybe I should start again. Maybe there are a couple of you who would also like to photo blog?

If I had had a photo blog over the last week, I would have undoubtedly posted a photo of my sweet Lola mouse, whom you may remember I adopted at Christmas-time. Of our three mice, Miss Lola has been the most outgoing and friendly. And she's gotten the fattest, which I think means she's the happiest. But last Saturday, Lola was not so happy. Actually, I thought she was injured because she kept rolling to her left and it looked like she couldn't use her leg.

It was then that I learned two important things:

1) Veterinarians close early on Saturdays.

2) Most veterinarians don't treat rodents.

Those two facts left me the option of either taking my tiny mouse to the emergency vet, or letting her roll around, and possibly be in pain (it was hard to tell), until Monday. If you're like most of the people I've talked to about this situation, you would have just waited it out until Monday...however, Lola is our pet and we love her. So, although I definitely considered the expense of carting her out to the emergency vet, I decided that the fact that she's tiny doesn't mean it's okay for her to suffer.

So we spent a lot of last Saturday at the emergency vet, waiting for our turn amongst very sick dogs and cats. One ate poison. One had a tumor. One needed emergency surgery. And there were my boys and I, with our little Lola cuddled up in my hoodie.

But it was worth it! It turns out mice sometimes get inner ear infections that disrupt their equilibriums. But after a few days of antibiotics (have you ever tried to give a mouse antibiotics?), Lola has made a full recovery. And this could be my photo for today:

Healthy mouse, happy house.

The life of Jimmy

This is Jimmy. A few hours ago, Jimmy was living the wild and crazy carny life, traveling from town to town, swimming around in his 150 mL of water, tricking kids and young lovers out of their dollar bills with the promise of winning him or one of his brethren by landing a ping pong ball in one of their tiny fish bowls.

Then my kids came along. Now, Jimmy probably had no clue his life was about the change, what with the less-than-stellar aim my kids showcased with all 14 of their ping pong balls...but just as my kids were sighing their sighs of defeat (and my husband and I were sighing sighs of relief at having not just acquired a new pet), the man running the game surprised us with Jimmy, all nicely packaged in a ziploc bag. 

Having stopped at Petsmart on the way home to get Jimmy a spacious new fish bowl and some food, we are now hoping he will survive his transition to the quiet suburban life. But, as Aidan somberly noted on our way home from the carnival, "We will love him as long as he lasts."

Judging from the worsening tilt in Jimmy's float, I'm thinking that won't be very long.

Hot and Furry

Happy Thursday. How great is Top Chef?

If you gave me 15 apples and told me I had 20 minutes to prepare a dish, you would be lucky to get a plate of sliced apples with some cheese on the side. Or maybe, if I was feeling super motivated, I would stuff one of the apples with peanut butter - and it would probably take almost the entire 20 minutes for me to core the thing. There would be nary a seared scallop or porkloin in sight.

I thought it was a good first episode. I don't think I'll miss either of the eliminated contestants...I guess I'll never know. But when will they learn to stop making salads? I like a good salad, but when you've got competitors sous viding chicken and making remoulade, maybe you should do something more than toss a few ingredients over some lettuce? Just a thought.

Onto other matters...

I'm thinking of getting the boys a pair of hamsters. I won't demand that they teach them tricks, but I won't discourage it, either.

You see, we are currently pet-less. Our last cat got shipped off to live with the teenager at his grandparents' house (she was his cat and Aidan and I are allergic). I've never been without a pet...ever. We always had lots of pets when I was growing up. At one point, we had 2 dogs, a cat, 2 rabbits, a hamster and a rat. I'm not sure how this happened, given my mother's obsessive need for cleanliness, but I remember thinking it was great - especially since I doubt I cleaned up after or fed any of them.

Anyway, back to the hamsters. I'm looking for a pet that doesn't take up much space, doesn't require training, doesn't make noise, and doesn't shed. Hamsters are cute and furry and they can run around the house in one of those big plastic balls (or two balls - we won't throw them both in the same one). I realize I'll have to clean a cage once a week, but I think I can handle that.

Horrible idea or best Christmas present ever?

That's a Good Dog

There's an article on CNN.com today about how service dogs are helping kids with autism. Interesting. I'm all for anything that helps kids with autism (and their families) lead fuller, safer, more independent lives.

With Owen being at the mild end of the spectrum, we are lucky not to have the safety issues that many parents of kids with autism experience -- specifically the impulse to run off without warning -- but there was something else intriguing in the article: Some of these dogs actually intervene and stop meltdowns. The dog apparently calms the kid down, heading off the meltdown. How great would that be?

My husband has been trying to convince me to get a dog for years. Show me a hypoallergenic, non-barking dog trained to stop meltdowns and you've got yourself a deal, honey. 

No Good, Very Bad Day

The last 24 hours have been very eventful and strange...not always in a good way.  As I mentioned in my previous post, my beloved cat was put to sleep yesterday evening. (Oh, and here's a tip: If looking at your recently departed pet makes you cry, maybe don't post a giant photo of her on your blog...unless you like staring into her sad eyes every time you visit your page.)

In a bizarre twist of fate, right around the time my cat was being euthanized, I got offered a well-paying project by someone I know and respect. The catch? It will force me to re-enter the lion's den...to return to my former corporate employer (albeit temporarily) and not just attend meetings, but lead them. But I'm a big girl, right? I can do this. It's been two and a half years! So why did my stomach immediately clench up? Seriously, we are beyond counting cars at this point. Stay tuned to see if this is what pushes me over the edge. 

So today started out nicely enough with a playdate at the park. Then right around lunch time, the sky started growing dark...and darker...and darker. Then the tornado sirens went on, so I gathered my boys and we went down to the basement. Naturally, I had the TV on to see if we were, in fact, going to be swept up in a funnel cloud, but in an effort to distract my little worrywart, Aidan, I decided we needed some lighter viewing. I was relieved to find a rerun of "America's Best Dance Crew," which easily took the boys' minds off of the storm...

Until the screen went black and a foreboding voice who identified himself as a member of the police force came on to tell us that we were under a severe thunderstorm warning, that the storm could be dangerous and that we should not call the police department unless there was an emergency. Did you know that could happen? I didn't. I thought cable provided a cocoon from local threats. So much for pretending all was well. 

Conveniently, the storm stopped in time for us to leave for the boys' 5-year check-up at the doctor's office (yes, I'm tardy on that one). In good news, there was not only no tornado, but also none of the promised hail. Just a lot of wind and rain.

So we are walking out the door for the doctor's appointment, when I see smoke coming from behind my garage. A tree that stands approximately one foot from my garage is on fire. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be caught in the power lines and is throwing sparks...a lot of sparks...very close to the roof of my garage. I call 911. In minutes, a volunteer firefighter comes walking up my driveway (he must be one of my neighbors - who knew?). He takes a look and tells me they'll get to it as soon as they can, but in the meantime, it's not going to burn my garage down. He seems like he probably knows what he's talking about, so off we go to the doctor's office...with me only mildly concerned that I might not have a garage when I return. 

The check-up goes fine -- the boys regale their doctor with detailed descriptions of both their birthday party and the Wii games they received at the party -- until it's time for the dreaded 5-year immunizations. Only, they didn't know to dread them because I didn't warn them ahead of time. I figured there was no reason to make them worry. I also figured they'd do fine now that they are older...

What I did not figure was that they didn't know what it meant to "get a shot" and by the time I realized their confusion, the needles (4 of them!) were already going into Aidan's arms. "Ow! It hurts!" he exclaimed, completely surprised and confused. "I know," I whispered, feeling terrible that I didn't give him a better idea of what to expect. 

And then there was my little Owen, who was sitting right there the whole time, but somehow managed to block out his brother's cries of pain and make his way onto the exam table completely oblivious to what was about to happen. Whereas Aidan had yelped, Owen screamed. "It hurts!" he yelled at me, expecting me to make it stop. "Please!" he cried at the nurses. And even though by then it was over, I couldn't help it, I cried too...he was just so shocked that anyone would hurt him on purpose, it was heartbreaking. 

I am happy to report that a couple of lollipops took the boys' minds off the shots (although now they are both complaining that their arms hurt) and my garage did not burn down while we were gone. However, I have had enough for one day...or two days, as it were. 

It's time for some brainless television and a glass of wine. I have to rest up...who knows what I might need my strength for tomorrow. 

Goodbye, Kitty

This is Zara. I got her on my 15th birthday, when she was just 10 weeks old. 

We had a lot of pets when I was growing up, but Zara has always been mine. She accompanied me through all of my moves. She was there through high school, college, moving in with my now-husband... everything. She is the only cat I've ever met who could play fetch. Even my dad, who hated cats, liked Zara, whom he used to affectionately call "Cat in the Hat." She is a good cat.

The last few years haven't been that kind to Zara; between my adult-onset cat allergies and the birth of my boys, I haven't spent much time with her lately. Still, I hope that the first 11 years, when I spoiled her rotten, have made up for it. 

Today we must say goodbye to Zara. She is 16 and her kidneys are failing.

I will miss you, Zara. Just not your hair.