It's been a while. Wish I had some excitement, some great news to share, memories to write out, general good times to recall. There has been lots of tv watching and online stress shopping. Christmas is canceled in the Happy Wife House and I'm okay with that. Last week, it was 80 frickin' degrees, so it doesn't feel all that festive anyway. I don't have one tree out, not one string of lights, not one ornament or wreath.
No dates since the last post. Ha! Romance. Dates. Ha ha hahahahahahah. At this point, I'd just like to see my husband sometime like in the house. Around the living room or something. Heh. The hubby has been working 7 days a week, gone before I get up and back after I'm asleep, and I stopped nagging about it pretty quickly after I realized how exhausted and overworked he was getting. Then I flipped over for a while to a "there's lots of meals for you in the fridge!" and "something broke but I'm taking care of it" mentality. The washer died and I was all, "Not today, B*tch" and I went to Sears and bought a washer/dryer in about 5 minutes and called it a day.
Side note: 5 minutes is not long enough to make an informed decision about that. I unknowingly bought not only a high efficiency washing machine but a steam dryer. Hopefully we will be laughing about this for many years to come (in that hopefully they will not break and/or I will not kill them out of anger at their he and steam-y goodness).
Taking care of things and the husband ended the longer Maverick-the-dog's saga wore on. I haven't been to the store in a month and I'm not using things long enough to even know if they are breaking. She's has been so sick that I A) no longer have any cuticles because I bit them all off and B) discovered that Xanax does nothing in my body. I might as well just eat a cracker. Which, along with jello and cereal, is all I've been able to eat for the past, what, 3 weeks now? I mean, I attempt to eat other things, but then I am violently sick. Sometimes some rice and chicken are worth it; other times, more jello for me.
At one point, I puked 12 times in 8 hours, having to stay on the floor of the bathroom when I wasn't puking during that time since any move farther just led to a faster recourse of more puking. I actually said to my husband (since I did see him at 2 am since half of this was at night, he stood over me concerned as I stayed still under a couple towels for warmth on the bathroom floor), "I am enjoying the puking." Which is how he knew I was sick. That isn't like me. But I felt so horrible that every time I puked, I had like a reprieve for about 20 minutes, so therefore, I enjoyed the puking. My husband asked, "Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"
He's been so busy that I drove myself to the doctor that week. I am proud of myself for that. I hate going to the doctor, but I needed her to tell me that this wasn't an illness made entirely from my mind and from my stress. She assured me what I was experiencing was some sort of bug. Sure. Let's go with that versus I have totally lost my sh*t.
Mav has had more than her share of the medical world this fall and winter. She's had blood tests and UAs and ultrasounds and all day in-house tests and admittance to the emergency vet to the point that for a while there, she was gone more than she was home. That was horrible to say the least. There is nothing worse than coming home to a Mav-free house. She was finally diagnosed with Adrenal-Dependent Cushing's Disease, which meant there was a tumor on one or both of her adrenal glands. A tumor that needed to be removed. Did you know CT scans alone cost $1,000? We didn't even get to the part where they would draw up an estimate for surgery. Holy hell.
Of course, Mav's "tumor" wasn't able to be located (hence no surgery right now), which led to more tests and then a new conclusion last week that maybe it isn't Adrenal-Dependent Cushing's Disease. Please shoot me. There is a specialist I am trying not to piss off who likes to say things like "I'm totally at a loss right now" and "I have no idea what's happening. It makes no sense." She also likes to say things like "We've never seen anything present like this" and "It's just a mess. Mav's just a big mess."
IT IS REALLY HARD NOT TO YELL AT THIS PERSON.
But we need her and I need her to not like spit in Mav's open cavity during surgery or whatever.
Anyway, I decorated for fall like a boss but by the time Thanksgiving came and went, I didn't want to spend any extra energy on Christmas. Actually, "want" isn't the correct word. I couldn't. Basically anything that isn't necessary right now is out the window. I have no ability for anything else. I am trying to be present and enjoy having Mav next to me, and I'm not doing anything that takes me out of that state of mind. Right now, she is in the middle of "7 days of stress-free life" before she can have yet another test. Stress-free life for a Weimaraner is hilarious and means I have an excellent excuse to not use the vacuum. Also, the kids across the street aren't allowed on their bikes and the UPS man needs to stop ringing the bell. Heh. It also means I can't take her on car rides or even to pick up stuff at the vet office since that gets her all excited. Poor Mav.
After one particularly horrible week where she had spent most of her time in a tiny cage in an animal hospital, I picked her up and had to bring her back the next day. Now, she had been so stressed out and had such an array of awful medical things happen to her that I thought it might be difficult to even get her back in the building. I mean, they really had done a (necessary) number on her.
We got there, and she ran to the door, got in the building, and, as always, wanted to get at every other dog, person in the waiting area, lady behind the counter, and vet tech in the place. Super speed wags, big drool-y smile, heavy happy panting. They took her to the back as she followed beyond thrilled, and when they returned her to me, they said she had kissed the vet and vet tech throughout the blood draw and visit. And something about that just broke me in about a million pieces and it took everything I had not to cry. She just bounded up my legs and planted some good kisses square on my face and was just as ready to go as she had been to stay.
That's where we're at and hopefully things will calm down soon and I'll have happier posts in the future. At the very least, I can dig out the late but still impressive fall decoration photos from the camera. We've had our good moments. I'm caught up on White Collar, have discovered the Macy's website, and am functioning at a level where I actually get dressed in real clothing on a daily basis. Mav still dances for every meal, grabs her plush toys and makes a beeline for the spot next to where I'll be on the couch, and lets the cats pay her more attention than usual. The hubby, well, he's employed still, and his Christmas break is coming sooner than later, and he has at least 6 soccer games on the DVR. We're still pretty damn blessed this holiday season.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Timber! Or, If Your Love Takes A Nosesdive In A Surburban Backyard, Does It Make A Noise?
What else has been happening this month in the Happy Wife household? Try not to fall off the edge of your seats. Heh.
Did you know that when a tree falls, even if someone - or two someones - are in the house to hear it, IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY FRICKIN' NOISE?
My husband saw it first, when it was getting dark outside. He said, "There's a branch down." I walked over to him at the kitchen window.
Mmmmm-hmmmmm. Or, maybe, a tree. That would be a tree, Honey.
But you know, marriage! Am I right? Knee-slappers, all the hijinks and adventures you go through over the years together! Hah! Poe-tay-toe, poe-tah-toe!
Nothing like half a tree coming down while you're both home, neither one hearing a thing. Oh, Nature. You're so funny!
Know what else is so funny? Or, who, in this instance? Tree People!
Just saying 'Tree People" is fun. It's like your life is suddenly Lord Of The Rings-esque. Or if Tolkien makes your head hurt, how about smaller scale, like maybe they make cookies?
About to shatter the daydream here - they don't actually live in trees, The Tree People. Did you know The Tree People must live in mansions?
You'd think something more rustic or relatable, but no.
Because it costs ALL THE MONEY to deal with trees.
ALL OF IT.
It costs so much money that you can't be just like, sure, let's do this, because you need to find more money before you can even speak their name again.
And then, did you know, Tree People cannot use the phone after they've come to your house to give you an estimate? They disappear. Mysterious, these Tree People. Mysteries wrapped in enigmas.
Sigh.
So the husband picked The Tree People randomly and decided we'd only call one Tree People place and then I got to deal with them. He then disappeared into his 'job' where he has been hiding ever since calling The Tree People.
Did you know The Tree People are so in tune with trees that they need only step one foot into your backyard to know all about your trees in order to tell you what needs to be done and how much it's gonna cost?
THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE TO ACTUALLY WALK UP TO THE TREES. OR REALLY LOOK AT THEM IN ANY WAY AT ALL.
Magicians, these Tree People. Magicians.
When the tree people finally came out to do the work, did you know that 3 guys + 1 girl (my lady parts went all, "HELL YES WE CAN ALSO USE CHAIN SAWS! when I saw her, I admit it) can decimate about a million years of trees in 3 hours?
And that while you're in your house, you can finally say that you know what it would sound like if you were ever stuck inside a dishwasher? FOR THREE HOURS. And you never even knew until then that that was something you were curious about?
Even our most un-excitable cat got to her feet. Ignore the too high singsong voice I use to talk to the cats as well as the carpet in need of a good sweeping if you watch the video.
So while my husband is all 'working' and being a 'productive member of society' at his 'job', I am making cat videos and trying to determine if I am going to start cleaning the house tomorrow, or the next day, or maybe after I catch up on the past 10 episodes of White Collar.
I mean, I am overseeing The Tree People. That's obviously my main 'job' for the time being. I HAVE A 'JOB', TOO. It involves hiding in the house and making sure the curtains are closed in the dirtiest rooms.
But that is cool. Because although I told my husband I could get out Gram's rusty old little saw and ax from the garage and take care of this stuff myself, after seeing what The Tree People Did... I am not Tree People material.
I sort of knew when I saw the birdhouse that I needed to just back away. It just was so perfect that it was like a neon sign saying, "Don't even try it. If I can hit the birdhouse just right, why do you think you could easily sit out here with your little tools and not completely kill yourself?"
We really need to up our game. I would like to have a reason to put on clothing other than The Tree People. We had 2 planned dates earlier this month and we went to neither one. Me and the hubby, not me and the Tree People. It has just been impossible over here to do anything together.
And then, he accidentally said he finds Christina Applegate attractive. To me. As in, it was an observation he made that he consciously decided to share. Outloud. To me.
Do you hear that sound? Not even crickets are chirping. Because they are terrified. All living things within a hundred mile radius are terrified and they don't even know why.
The husband made the mistake of saying Gwen Stefani was hot once. ONCE.
And we all know how that turned out.
Hint: NOT WELL.
It still bothers me, 8 years later. I would say that I didn't think it did, but I came out of anesthesia talking about her last summer. That's brain commitment, folks.
I can't remember what I did yesterday or the last movie we saw in a theater but unconscious-to-conscious Happy Wife goes immediately into the mental file cabinet labeled "WOMAN HUSBAND ACCIDENTALLY TOLD YOU HE FINDS ATTRACTIVE".
Now that cabinet is labeled 'women' instead of 'woman' and BOOOOOOO, HUSBAND. Booooo. Now Christina Applegate? Ruined for me! She's ruined for me!
It takes a lot of energy to mentally fight off these ladies from stealing my husband. And he does not understand this. I mean, if I wasn't mentally fighting them off, I'm pretty sure Gwen would have left swings-both-ways Gavin and I don't know about Christina's romantic situation but she seems pretty funny and cool per her work choices (Anchorman! SH*T. Husband, YOU RUINED ANCHORMAN! HOW COULD YOU?) so I don't even know where I was going with that... Now I'm mad about Anchorman.
Although... Didn't Christina have a double mastectomy? So therefore when I get breast cancer and the girls have to go their separate ways from me, this means the husband will still find me attractive? Tricky bastard.
Sometimes I forget I am married to a genius who sometimes moonlights as an evil genius. Hence my dealing with the Tree People. I think I just had a revelation there. Huh.
Did you know that when a tree falls, even if someone - or two someones - are in the house to hear it, IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY FRICKIN' NOISE?
I guess a gentle breeze and some subtle gravity
slowly danced this tree to the ground.
Mmmmm-hmmmmm. Or, maybe, a tree. That would be a tree, Honey.
But you know, marriage! Am I right? Knee-slappers, all the hijinks and adventures you go through over the years together! Hah! Poe-tay-toe, poe-tah-toe!
I don't think "a branch" can have its own multitudes of branches.
...
But maybe it can. Maybe the husband is right?
...
*Maniacal laughter inserted here because that sh*t is ridiculous*
Nothing like half a tree coming down while you're both home, neither one hearing a thing. Oh, Nature. You're so funny!
Know what else is so funny? Or, who, in this instance? Tree People!
Just saying 'Tree People" is fun. It's like your life is suddenly Lord Of The Rings-esque. Or if Tolkien makes your head hurt, how about smaller scale, like maybe they make cookies?
About to shatter the daydream here - they don't actually live in trees, The Tree People. Did you know The Tree People must live in mansions?
You'd think something more rustic or relatable, but no.
Because it costs ALL THE MONEY to deal with trees.
ALL OF IT.
It costs so much money that you can't be just like, sure, let's do this, because you need to find more money before you can even speak their name again.
And then, did you know, Tree People cannot use the phone after they've come to your house to give you an estimate? They disappear. Mysterious, these Tree People. Mysteries wrapped in enigmas.
Sigh.
So the husband picked The Tree People randomly and decided we'd only call one Tree People place and then I got to deal with them. He then disappeared into his 'job' where he has been hiding ever since calling The Tree People.
Did you know The Tree People are so in tune with trees that they need only step one foot into your backyard to know all about your trees in order to tell you what needs to be done and how much it's gonna cost?
THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE TO ACTUALLY WALK UP TO THE TREES. OR REALLY LOOK AT THEM IN ANY WAY AT ALL.
Magicians, these Tree People. Magicians.
When the tree people finally came out to do the work, did you know that 3 guys + 1 girl (my lady parts went all, "HELL YES WE CAN ALSO USE CHAIN SAWS! when I saw her, I admit it) can decimate about a million years of trees in 3 hours?
And that while you're in your house, you can finally say that you know what it would sound like if you were ever stuck inside a dishwasher? FOR THREE HOURS. And you never even knew until then that that was something you were curious about?
Even our most un-excitable cat got to her feet. Ignore the too high singsong voice I use to talk to the cats as well as the carpet in need of a good sweeping if you watch the video.
So while my husband is all 'working' and being a 'productive member of society' at his 'job', I am making cat videos and trying to determine if I am going to start cleaning the house tomorrow, or the next day, or maybe after I catch up on the past 10 episodes of White Collar.
I mean, I am overseeing The Tree People. That's obviously my main 'job' for the time being. I HAVE A 'JOB', TOO. It involves hiding in the house and making sure the curtains are closed in the dirtiest rooms.
But that is cool. Because although I told my husband I could get out Gram's rusty old little saw and ax from the garage and take care of this stuff myself, after seeing what The Tree People Did... I am not Tree People material.
I sort of knew when I saw the birdhouse that I needed to just back away. It just was so perfect that it was like a neon sign saying, "Don't even try it. If I can hit the birdhouse just right, why do you think you could easily sit out here with your little tools and not completely kill yourself?"
Not even The Tree People could have made the tree fall
to break the birdhouse so perfectly.
We really need to up our game. I would like to have a reason to put on clothing other than The Tree People. We had 2 planned dates earlier this month and we went to neither one. Me and the hubby, not me and the Tree People. It has just been impossible over here to do anything together.
And then, he accidentally said he finds Christina Applegate attractive. To me. As in, it was an observation he made that he consciously decided to share. Outloud. To me.
Do you hear that sound? Not even crickets are chirping. Because they are terrified. All living things within a hundred mile radius are terrified and they don't even know why.
The husband made the mistake of saying Gwen Stefani was hot once. ONCE.
And we all know how that turned out.
Hint: NOT WELL.
It still bothers me, 8 years later. I would say that I didn't think it did, but I came out of anesthesia talking about her last summer. That's brain commitment, folks.
I can't remember what I did yesterday or the last movie we saw in a theater but unconscious-to-conscious Happy Wife goes immediately into the mental file cabinet labeled "WOMAN HUSBAND ACCIDENTALLY TOLD YOU HE FINDS ATTRACTIVE".
Now that cabinet is labeled 'women' instead of 'woman' and BOOOOOOO, HUSBAND. Booooo. Now Christina Applegate? Ruined for me! She's ruined for me!
It takes a lot of energy to mentally fight off these ladies from stealing my husband. And he does not understand this. I mean, if I wasn't mentally fighting them off, I'm pretty sure Gwen would have left swings-both-ways Gavin and I don't know about Christina's romantic situation but she seems pretty funny and cool per her work choices (Anchorman! SH*T. Husband, YOU RUINED ANCHORMAN! HOW COULD YOU?) so I don't even know where I was going with that... Now I'm mad about Anchorman.
Although... Didn't Christina have a double mastectomy? So therefore when I get breast cancer and the girls have to go their separate ways from me, this means the husband will still find me attractive? Tricky bastard.
Sometimes I forget I am married to a genius who sometimes moonlights as an evil genius. Hence my dealing with the Tree People. I think I just had a revelation there. Huh.
Peplum and The Police
My husband and I went out together yesterday morning. To the doctor. So that is how things are going here on the dating scene. Good times.
I shouldn't even complain. He had to get labs done and I didn't. It was more of physical/wellness type of appointment for our insurance. We still go in together, so that's sort of cute, right?
And, we did get coffee and donuts afterwards. So, romantic-y? He was all, "Pick whichever donut you want" and I was all, "Wooo-whoooo!" Nothing says love like when a man is all, "Take your pick, My Dear!"
Sprinkles! Sprinkles!
Says the child next ahead of us in line. Not me. Of course. Ahem.
Anyway, we missed our last 2 planned (ticket-required) dates because of his and/or my exhaustion. Then, I got to go to northern Indiana for almost 2 weeks for my mom's surgery. So we've been all sorts of directions lately.
My day today was odd but fun. I went to Kohls and came outside to find my car surrounded by 4 police cars. A row. A row of police cars and just emptiness otherwise.
Policeman were standing and pacing in the area by my car in the parking lot. I asked one, "Should I be concerned? This one's mine," while pointing to my car.
I managed to keep my, "Did my husband send you? How did he know I was here? Isn't stalking illegal? Did I say husband? I meant stalker. Also, he never puts the recycling into the actual recycling. He just leaves all his Pepsi cans and little empty juice bottles EVERYWHERE. I was with my mom for the past 2 weeks because she had surgery, and he had at least 5 empty toilet paper rolls just sitting on the bathroom counter when I got home! That has to be as illegal as my being at Kohls. Officer? Officer, where are you going? I got a dress for 4 bucks! FOUR BUCKS, OFFICER! The price points in there were criminal! "
Also, add a catchy theme song containing the words "marriage police" and a lot of jazz hands.
All right, so I kept the 'marriage' police out of the police conversation because it's sort of unnerving to have a lot of police around for no observable reason. You want to be all polite and good citizen-y in case a good dose of klutzy and Tourette's hit you right about then. Both things I would not be entirely surprised by if they suddenly hit me.
The policeman answered me with, "Yep, you're fine. But I think you ought to buy a lottery ticket on your way home."
It took me until I unlocked the car before I saw that the one non-police car parked anywhere near me had had its front half accordion-ed. That was weird since the front of the car was facing what the front of my car was facing, which was a 6 foot wide patch of dirt. Dirt that was well landscaped and home to various large trees and shrubs. On the other side of it was where more cars could pull in and park.
I had thought the car next to me was just a car. One car. But, no. Nooooo. The car attempting to park directly in front of it beyond the dirt and trees, well, it must have been going at quite a clip because that sucker had flown up and over the curb, mowed down the trees and shrubs, and didn't stop until it was in the driver's seat of the car next to me.
And there I was, coming out of Kohls, all upset about the whole peplum thing. Peplum, in case anyone is unaware, is this big trend right now.
Essentially, you put like a full skirt on all your tops from right under your boobs to right at your hips, or if you're already in a dress or skirt, you make a whole other freaking skirt to sit up high and flare out at that area on you as well, like a bonus. A bonus that could make supermodels look pregnant.
Why? Why anyone would want to put four more yards of fabric around the middle of a woman? It's insanity. The police should have been there for that sh*t.
WHY? WHY? WHYYYYYYYYYY?
I don't know. I think the people behind it might have death wish. I get that Keira Knightley wants to feel like she has a womanly body or something sometimes, BUT NO. NO. NO. NO.
Oh hell no.
I'm going to find the person in charge of making peplum a trend this year and I'm going to punch him or her in the face. Or middle. Maybe in their peplum. Justice. Sweet, sweet justice.
For the record, I usually am also angry about the layering of ruffles all over everything the past couple years. Why add all this bulk when that is sort of the opposite of what one wants to accomplish? Because who doesn't want 8 layers of ruffles on a top? My favorite is when there are so many horizontal ruffles that one or two go right across the twins. Why not make the two good things I have going on look weird and misshapen?
Is it weird that my requirement is can I wear it around the house? Is it comfy? Add some tights or leggings and call it appropriate daywear? At this time last year, I don't think I ever wore anything but pajamas or sweats if I wasn't leaving the house. You really do feel better if you're actually dressed. Who knew? Oh, that's right. The world. The world knew. Oh well.
This was an excellent shopping trip. And the doctor did say we should exercise more. Actually, she said, just try to walk for 15 minutes a day. So this totally had to count. Add all the trying on and that was like cardio or something. Heh. Okay, maybe not.
Also, there was a point today where I had to say to myself, "Wait, you don't need a fedora." So it was that kind of day.
Now I'm going to make supper since I just heard the husband get home. He gets to give the little kids candy while I attempt to keep all the pets in line. Happy Halloween! Free black special-needs cats for children acting out at the Happy Wife House!
I shouldn't even complain. He had to get labs done and I didn't. It was more of physical/wellness type of appointment for our insurance. We still go in together, so that's sort of cute, right?
And, we did get coffee and donuts afterwards. So, romantic-y? He was all, "Pick whichever donut you want" and I was all, "Wooo-whoooo!" Nothing says love like when a man is all, "Take your pick, My Dear!"
Sprinkles! Sprinkles!
Says the child next ahead of us in line. Not me. Of course. Ahem.
Anyway, we missed our last 2 planned (ticket-required) dates because of his and/or my exhaustion. Then, I got to go to northern Indiana for almost 2 weeks for my mom's surgery. So we've been all sorts of directions lately.
My day today was odd but fun. I went to Kohls and came outside to find my car surrounded by 4 police cars. A row. A row of police cars and just emptiness otherwise.
Policeman were standing and pacing in the area by my car in the parking lot. I asked one, "Should I be concerned? This one's mine," while pointing to my car.
I managed to keep my, "Did my husband send you? How did he know I was here? Isn't stalking illegal? Did I say husband? I meant stalker. Also, he never puts the recycling into the actual recycling. He just leaves all his Pepsi cans and little empty juice bottles EVERYWHERE. I was with my mom for the past 2 weeks because she had surgery, and he had at least 5 empty toilet paper rolls just sitting on the bathroom counter when I got home! That has to be as illegal as my being at Kohls. Officer? Officer, where are you going? I got a dress for 4 bucks! FOUR BUCKS, OFFICER! The price points in there were criminal! "
Add a little grey sweater, tights, and boots
to this knee-length dress?
Summer to fall perfection!
Also, add a catchy theme song containing the words "marriage police" and a lot of jazz hands.
All right, so I kept the 'marriage' police out of the police conversation because it's sort of unnerving to have a lot of police around for no observable reason. You want to be all polite and good citizen-y in case a good dose of klutzy and Tourette's hit you right about then. Both things I would not be entirely surprised by if they suddenly hit me.
The policeman answered me with, "Yep, you're fine. But I think you ought to buy a lottery ticket on your way home."
It took me until I unlocked the car before I saw that the one non-police car parked anywhere near me had had its front half accordion-ed. That was weird since the front of the car was facing what the front of my car was facing, which was a 6 foot wide patch of dirt. Dirt that was well landscaped and home to various large trees and shrubs. On the other side of it was where more cars could pull in and park.
I had thought the car next to me was just a car. One car. But, no. Nooooo. The car attempting to park directly in front of it beyond the dirt and trees, well, it must have been going at quite a clip because that sucker had flown up and over the curb, mowed down the trees and shrubs, and didn't stop until it was in the driver's seat of the car next to me.
And there I was, coming out of Kohls, all upset about the whole peplum thing. Peplum, in case anyone is unaware, is this big trend right now.
Essentially, you put like a full skirt on all your tops from right under your boobs to right at your hips, or if you're already in a dress or skirt, you make a whole other freaking skirt to sit up high and flare out at that area on you as well, like a bonus. A bonus that could make supermodels look pregnant.
Why? Why anyone would want to put four more yards of fabric around the middle of a woman? It's insanity. The police should have been there for that sh*t.
WHY? WHY? WHYYYYYYYYYY?
I don't know. I think the people behind it might have death wish. I get that Keira Knightley wants to feel like she has a womanly body or something sometimes, BUT NO. NO. NO. NO.
Oh hell no.
I'm going to find the person in charge of making peplum a trend this year and I'm going to punch him or her in the face. Or middle. Maybe in their peplum. Justice. Sweet, sweet justice.
For the record, I usually am also angry about the layering of ruffles all over everything the past couple years. Why add all this bulk when that is sort of the opposite of what one wants to accomplish? Because who doesn't want 8 layers of ruffles on a top? My favorite is when there are so many horizontal ruffles that one or two go right across the twins. Why not make the two good things I have going on look weird and misshapen?
Yet, I found this dress on clearance today and loved it!
The ruffles were longer and fewer in number,
so I think that is what made it fun and flowy.
And pretty figure flattering considering.
Plus, it's jersey. The superman of fabrics.
This was an excellent shopping trip. And the doctor did say we should exercise more. Actually, she said, just try to walk for 15 minutes a day. So this totally had to count. Add all the trying on and that was like cardio or something. Heh. Okay, maybe not.
Perfect new top and dress with matching necklaces.
That dress and top were each $10.
The necklace on the right was $2.
The other was from Old Navy a while ago, I think.
So, breaking the bank... OF CUTE.
Then, there's this. I warned the husband
before he got home to not say anything bad about
the new awesome on my finger.
It's like I'm both a teenager and an eighty-year-old at the same time.
Why do I love it so much? Do I need therapy?
This photo makes it look like its on fire!
My ring, my ring, my ring is on fire!
(Like the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire!)
((And cue the aging and shame that comes
with remembering the Bloodhound Gang.))
I wish I did this on purpose
but that is way above my photoship level.
Priceless. Or, $5, if you must know.
(Mary Lou head butted my hand the whole time.
She meowed, "For rubs and fashion!" or something.)
Also, there was a point today where I had to say to myself, "Wait, you don't need a fedora." So it was that kind of day.
Now I'm going to make supper since I just heard the husband get home. He gets to give the little kids candy while I attempt to keep all the pets in line. Happy Halloween! Free black special-needs cats for children acting out at the Happy Wife House!
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Let's Throw Down, AARP!
See if you can tell when my grumpiness turned into rage today. It was while I was on the computer. In my email, to be precise. Some of my email this afternoon included:
Buy Some Seeds! Beautify Your Yard And Garden!
Yes, because it's September and we've had six months of severe drought. Even the trees are dying.
View Pictures Of Seniors In Your City!
No thank you. I worked in a nursing home. I have seen things I cannot unsee. I'm good. For life.
Your Daily Horoscope!
Um, no. The Leo roars to stop clogging my email! Fire sign, Email! FIRE SIGN.
The Roaming Gnome (from Travelocity) Recommends These Amazing Falls Deals!
Because I love to travel. I travel if I have to, um, move. Like to college or because I got married. Otherwise, well, I'm making the husband go to the grocery this weekend. That is how much I enjoy encountering the world.
New UV Toothbrush Sanitizer!
What are you trying to say, Email? Wait, did I even brush my teeth today? Sh*t. Kudos, you got me there. Do you secretly have my back, Email? Should I check my horoscope? Maybe something exciting is going to happen to me?
Staying Healthy Just Got Easier!
DID IT? I TAKE BACK ALL MY MOMENTARY NICE THOUGHTS. BEING HEALTHY IS EASY NOW? SO NO MORE OF THAT PESKY EXERCISING AND EATING VEGGIES? OR DO YOU MEAN THAT IS WHY THE SCHWAN'S MAN HASN'T SHOWN UP YET? I'LL KILL YOU, EMAIL! I WAS ALL MAYBE I SHOULD FLOSS BUT NOW YOU'RE JUST PISSING ME OFF, EMAIL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THE SCHWAN'S MAN?!
Vodka Distillery Tour For Two!
Hey, remember that time in the 7th grade when I tried a wine cooler? You must, Email. Except that time is one more time than the husband has had alcohol. So, really, the perfect date for the couple that doesn't drink.
BEST DRUGS (From simply 'ONLINE PHARMACY')
THANKS FOR THE ALL CAPS. I FEEL YOU TODAY. And, I am getting dangerously close to clicking on you. Let's get the credit card with the enough-to-purchase-a-yacht-amount of available credit on it.
Interested In A Career In Law Enforcement?
*Through gritted teeth* I WASN'T BUT I AM GETTING THERE.
Check Out Christian Singles Online Today!
G--dammit, Mom.
AARP Membership Today!
*Hits head on keyboard repeatedly*
Browse Local Asian Singles In Your Area!
Um, what? Never mind, Mom, this might not be your fault after all.
Do You Look Older Than You Feel?
Probably. Thanks. *Adds to long list of things I am self-critical about*
Find Someone Special In Your City On EHarmony!
Seriously, EHarmony? You're how I met my husband, what, 8 years ago now? WHICH YOU KNOW. Was there some sort of bet we were unaware of? We're still happily married, you sick, twisted bastards.
Mexican Potato Nachos!
...
I... What? On Earth? Is this a thing? OH MY GOD. Oh, Email. I don't even normally like Mexican food but I do like potatoes and who doesn't like nachos and OH MY GOD. You do know me. I take it all back. You win. Is there a photo of this heavenly manna? Clickety, clickety, click, click.
Buy Some Seeds! Beautify Your Yard And Garden!
Yes, because it's September and we've had six months of severe drought. Even the trees are dying.
No thank you. I worked in a nursing home. I have seen things I cannot unsee. I'm good. For life.
Your Daily Horoscope!
Um, no. The Leo roars to stop clogging my email! Fire sign, Email! FIRE SIGN.
The Roaming Gnome (from Travelocity) Recommends These Amazing Falls Deals!
Because I love to travel. I travel if I have to, um, move. Like to college or because I got married. Otherwise, well, I'm making the husband go to the grocery this weekend. That is how much I enjoy encountering the world.
New UV Toothbrush Sanitizer!
What are you trying to say, Email? Wait, did I even brush my teeth today? Sh*t. Kudos, you got me there. Do you secretly have my back, Email? Should I check my horoscope? Maybe something exciting is going to happen to me?
Staying Healthy Just Got Easier!
DID IT? I TAKE BACK ALL MY MOMENTARY NICE THOUGHTS. BEING HEALTHY IS EASY NOW? SO NO MORE OF THAT PESKY EXERCISING AND EATING VEGGIES? OR DO YOU MEAN THAT IS WHY THE SCHWAN'S MAN HASN'T SHOWN UP YET? I'LL KILL YOU, EMAIL! I WAS ALL MAYBE I SHOULD FLOSS BUT NOW YOU'RE JUST PISSING ME OFF, EMAIL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THE SCHWAN'S MAN?!
Vodka Distillery Tour For Two!
Hey, remember that time in the 7th grade when I tried a wine cooler? You must, Email. Except that time is one more time than the husband has had alcohol. So, really, the perfect date for the couple that doesn't drink.
BEST DRUGS (From simply 'ONLINE PHARMACY')
THANKS FOR THE ALL CAPS. I FEEL YOU TODAY. And, I am getting dangerously close to clicking on you. Let's get the credit card with the enough-to-purchase-a-yacht-amount of available credit on it.
Interested In A Career In Law Enforcement?
*Through gritted teeth* I WASN'T BUT I AM GETTING THERE.
Check Out Christian Singles Online Today!
G--dammit, Mom.
AARP Membership Today!
*Hits head on keyboard repeatedly*
Browse Local Asian Singles In Your Area!
Um, what? Never mind, Mom, this might not be your fault after all.
Do You Look Older Than You Feel?
Probably. Thanks. *Adds to long list of things I am self-critical about*
Find Someone Special In Your City On EHarmony!
Seriously, EHarmony? You're how I met my husband, what, 8 years ago now? WHICH YOU KNOW. Was there some sort of bet we were unaware of? We're still happily married, you sick, twisted bastards.
Mexican Potato Nachos!
...
I... What? On Earth? Is this a thing? OH MY GOD. Oh, Email. I don't even normally like Mexican food but I do like potatoes and who doesn't like nachos and OH MY GOD. You do know me. I take it all back. You win. Is there a photo of this heavenly manna? Clickety, clickety, click, click.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
The Lion King Date
The hubby and I saw The Lion King musical at The Fox Theater yesterday. We left the house! Together! For fun! Woooo!
The remnants of Hurricane Isaac were still twirling above the city, so my fancy dress and ridiculous shoes had to stay home. *Sheds a tear*
Obviously, I went naked. Ha ha ha.
*Scream-singing "The cir-cle, circle of life! In the path unwinding, yeaaaaaaaah, THE CIRCLE, CIRCLE OF LIIIIIIIIIIIFE"*
Really, though, jeans and a notch above tee shirts for us. And we were under dressed. Surprising, since it seems 90% of the audience consisted of loud, horrible, horrible children.
I mean, little wondrous miracles! Obvious future presidents, Pulitzer Prize winners, and cancer-curing scientists!
Ahem.
For every well behaved child (that made me want to throw a parade for his or her parents), there were about 100 screaming, crying, hitting, running examples of God showing me that I should be thankful that I can't have kids. Thanks, Buddy. You get me, Jesus, you really do. *Gets choked up, gives thumbs up to ceiling, nods in agreement, relishes life full of selfishness*
I received an email from the theater that said we should allow a lot of extra time to get there and that latecomers would not be immediately seated. I have never received an email from The Fox before, even when we had season tickets to a bunch of shows a couple years ago.
Now, I am already a get-there-early type of gal, so this was not good. I tried to be subtle and guide the hubby along, but he kept saying, "You know, it will take us 30 minutes tops to get there." I wasn't buying it. At all.
I managed to get him in the car an hour before the show started, and we stopped for expensive used-to-be-hipster-but-is-now-so-mainstream coffee on the way. The girl's voice at the drive-through that came through the ordering speaker was a little jarring. It was like my eyes started rolling sarcastically even before I knew I was annoyed.
She said to my husband, in a my-other-job-is-at-a-phone-sex-bank-and-I've-forgotten-which-job-I'm-at kind of way, "What do you want me to do for you today?"
He barely paused and ordered quickly before she left us with some sort of "I'll be seeing you in just a minute and will take care of everything you need" parting phrase. I was pretty sure I A) needed a shower and B) was going to really be mad at my husband for something he had nothing to do with. Starbucks must have a new slogan: Making sure you have the caffeine you need so you can get through the spousal fights we start!
He wasn't rolling up his window and driving forward before I said, "Really?"
And he said, "Oh, I knew immediately once she started talking that this wasn't going to be good. In my head, I was like, Oh crap."
I nodded. Appropriate response, Husband. I discovered there is such a thing as a bitchy-growly-sigh, gave one of those to the situation, and we then both laughed.
When we pulled up, the girl continued her odd way of dealing with drive-through customers by purring at my husband but I wasn't as perturbed, since she was neither blond nor had the face to match the inducing-rage type voice.
Besides, my husband, WAY too smart to flirt back in front of me. Even if she had been Heidi Klum's long lost twin, he would have been all, "She wasn't pretty at all! I didn't even notice she was a girl, that is how much I did not notice anything about her!" and so on.
Also, I had other stresses.
In the car, this was the conversation.
Me: Drive faster.
Husband: Do you want me to drive faster?
Me: Angry face at husband.
Husband: Little laugh.
Me: We will NOT be late. I am not missing the opening with the majestic animals.
Husband: Laughs.
Me: I'm serious.
Husband: Keeps his eyes on the road.
Me: MAJESTIC ANIMALS.
Husband: You will see the majestic animals, Honey.
Me: (Sweetly) You know if I miss the majestic animals, I WILL KILL YOU.
Husband: Fighting laughter.
Me: Raised eyebrows. Very do-not-try-me attitude.
Husband: Now trying very hard not to laugh.
Me: Ma. Jes. Tic. ANIMALS.
Husband: Starts to lose control of his this-is-a-serious-conversation face and sort of hacking-laughs.
Me: That is ground rule number 1. YOU WILL NOT MAKE YOUR WIFE MISS THE MAJESTIC ANIMALS. Ground rule number 2 IS YOU WILL NOT LAUGH INAPPROPRIATELY AT ANY TIME DURING THE LION KING."
That's about when the husband totally loses it and I know that I'll be sad when I have to kill him but I'll get over it.
We manage to make it to the theater just in time and sit down basically within moments of the show starting.
MAJESTIC ANIMALS!
The husband, he knew they were coming and where they were coming from because whenever I saw one, especially on up high to the side of us or down an aisle behind us, I jabbed him with my elbow. THERE. THERE. BEHOLD THE MAJESTIC ANIMALS.
The costumes and set were amazing. The show itself was okay. I think our seats in the second row were probably too close (what did I just say? WHAT? Excuse me while I go check in the mirror to make sure I'm still myself). People who had already seen the show in our section kept talking about how they missed the "spectacle" of it, that from our seats, you just didn't get the whole effect.
It also did not help that I sat next to a couple with a little boy. He didn't have a seat. He sat on their laps. And the second the lights went down and the show started, that kid started scream-questioning and commenting. I was impressed at how articulate he was for his age and for his ability to be deafening over the very loud volume of the show while not taking a breath. I mean, it was constant, no pause between sentences, and it continued for the entire show. WHO IS THAT LION? THAT IS BAD LION. WHAT IS HE DOING? WHAT IS THE MAN DOING? WHO IS THAT MAN? THAT IS THE BAD MAN? BAD MAN! BAD LION! WHERE IS HE GOING? WHAT IS THAT? THAT IS A BIRD. THERE IS ELEPHANT. WHERE IS HE GOING? WHY IS THERE A BAD MAN? ROAR! ROAR!
The roaring was particularly impressive. The first half of the musical, the main character is a cub, and he has a little roar. So he would roar, and then the kid next to me would roar. Over and over and over. So loud that we could not hear the dialog or the words to any of the songs. He was as loud as the show and was louder the majority of the time. And no one said a word about it. The mom cooed at the kid, and the dad just sort of acted like he was oblivious to the whole situation. I'm married? This is my child? What? Sir, Madam, I know not what you speak of! Not that you dared speak of anything!
Boo. People and life and the world, boo.
Sigh. It's not often that I think, "Gee, I wish we had seats WAY farther back and hadn't spent all this money on these seats at the front." Actually, it's never that I think that. So this was a first.
Anyway, we at least got out and about and that counts for something. The photo we took before we left sort of exemplifies our big date. It's actually a good photo. You just can't really see that. Extenuating circumstances. Stupid camera. If you look hard, you can see we're happy.
What we should have done is taken a photo of Mav the dog, who could not push us out of the house fast enough. We had the pet sitter come spend some time with her, and she could not have been more ready to get us the f- out. Give me my treat balls and kong, Suckers! Later! Get out! Don't let the door hit you on your way out!
When we got home, she was just as happy to see us, and she had a big smile on her face. OH MY GOD THE LADY CAME AND THERE WAS AFFECTION AND ATTENTION AND OH MY GOD MORE TREATS IN THE TREAT BALLS AND OH. MY. GOD. GUYS! GUYS! I LOVE YOU GUYS!
We love you, too, Mav.
So, we put on our comfy clothes, grabbed some take-out, and cuddled with a barely-conscious Mav on the couch while watching Hell On Wheels. Which was even better than our actual date. And a lot cheaper. And quieter, too.
*Soft roars*
The remnants of Hurricane Isaac were still twirling above the city, so my fancy dress and ridiculous shoes had to stay home. *Sheds a tear*
Obviously, I went naked. Ha ha ha.
*Scream-singing "The cir-cle, circle of life! In the path unwinding, yeaaaaaaaah, THE CIRCLE, CIRCLE OF LIIIIIIIIIIIFE"*
Really, though, jeans and a notch above tee shirts for us. And we were under dressed. Surprising, since it seems 90% of the audience consisted of loud, horrible, horrible children.
I mean, little wondrous miracles! Obvious future presidents, Pulitzer Prize winners, and cancer-curing scientists!
Ahem.
For every well behaved child (that made me want to throw a parade for his or her parents), there were about 100 screaming, crying, hitting, running examples of God showing me that I should be thankful that I can't have kids. Thanks, Buddy. You get me, Jesus, you really do. *Gets choked up, gives thumbs up to ceiling, nods in agreement, relishes life full of selfishness*
I received an email from the theater that said we should allow a lot of extra time to get there and that latecomers would not be immediately seated. I have never received an email from The Fox before, even when we had season tickets to a bunch of shows a couple years ago.
Now, I am already a get-there-early type of gal, so this was not good. I tried to be subtle and guide the hubby along, but he kept saying, "You know, it will take us 30 minutes tops to get there." I wasn't buying it. At all.
I managed to get him in the car an hour before the show started, and we stopped for expensive used-to-be-hipster-but-is-now-so-mainstream coffee on the way. The girl's voice at the drive-through that came through the ordering speaker was a little jarring. It was like my eyes started rolling sarcastically even before I knew I was annoyed.
She said to my husband, in a my-other-job-is-at-a-phone-sex-bank-and-I've-forgotten-which-job-I'm-at kind of way, "What do you want me to do for you today?"
He barely paused and ordered quickly before she left us with some sort of "I'll be seeing you in just a minute and will take care of everything you need" parting phrase. I was pretty sure I A) needed a shower and B) was going to really be mad at my husband for something he had nothing to do with. Starbucks must have a new slogan: Making sure you have the caffeine you need so you can get through the spousal fights we start!
He wasn't rolling up his window and driving forward before I said, "Really?"
And he said, "Oh, I knew immediately once she started talking that this wasn't going to be good. In my head, I was like, Oh crap."
I nodded. Appropriate response, Husband. I discovered there is such a thing as a bitchy-growly-sigh, gave one of those to the situation, and we then both laughed.
When we pulled up, the girl continued her odd way of dealing with drive-through customers by purring at my husband but I wasn't as perturbed, since she was neither blond nor had the face to match the inducing-rage type voice.
Besides, my husband, WAY too smart to flirt back in front of me. Even if she had been Heidi Klum's long lost twin, he would have been all, "She wasn't pretty at all! I didn't even notice she was a girl, that is how much I did not notice anything about her!" and so on.
Also, I had other stresses.
In the car, this was the conversation.
Me: Drive faster.
Husband: Do you want me to drive faster?
Me: Angry face at husband.
Husband: Little laugh.
Me: We will NOT be late. I am not missing the opening with the majestic animals.
Husband: Laughs.
Me: I'm serious.
Husband: Keeps his eyes on the road.
Me: MAJESTIC ANIMALS.
Husband: You will see the majestic animals, Honey.
Me: (Sweetly) You know if I miss the majestic animals, I WILL KILL YOU.
Husband: Fighting laughter.
Me: Raised eyebrows. Very do-not-try-me attitude.
Husband: Now trying very hard not to laugh.
Me: Ma. Jes. Tic. ANIMALS.
Husband: Starts to lose control of his this-is-a-serious-conversation face and sort of hacking-laughs.
Me: That is ground rule number 1. YOU WILL NOT MAKE YOUR WIFE MISS THE MAJESTIC ANIMALS. Ground rule number 2 IS YOU WILL NOT LAUGH INAPPROPRIATELY AT ANY TIME DURING THE LION KING."
That's about when the husband totally loses it and I know that I'll be sad when I have to kill him but I'll get over it.
We manage to make it to the theater just in time and sit down basically within moments of the show starting.
MAJESTIC ANIMALS!
The husband, he knew they were coming and where they were coming from because whenever I saw one, especially on up high to the side of us or down an aisle behind us, I jabbed him with my elbow. THERE. THERE. BEHOLD THE MAJESTIC ANIMALS.
The costumes and set were amazing. The show itself was okay. I think our seats in the second row were probably too close (what did I just say? WHAT? Excuse me while I go check in the mirror to make sure I'm still myself). People who had already seen the show in our section kept talking about how they missed the "spectacle" of it, that from our seats, you just didn't get the whole effect.
It also did not help that I sat next to a couple with a little boy. He didn't have a seat. He sat on their laps. And the second the lights went down and the show started, that kid started scream-questioning and commenting. I was impressed at how articulate he was for his age and for his ability to be deafening over the very loud volume of the show while not taking a breath. I mean, it was constant, no pause between sentences, and it continued for the entire show. WHO IS THAT LION? THAT IS BAD LION. WHAT IS HE DOING? WHAT IS THE MAN DOING? WHO IS THAT MAN? THAT IS THE BAD MAN? BAD MAN! BAD LION! WHERE IS HE GOING? WHAT IS THAT? THAT IS A BIRD. THERE IS ELEPHANT. WHERE IS HE GOING? WHY IS THERE A BAD MAN? ROAR! ROAR!
The roaring was particularly impressive. The first half of the musical, the main character is a cub, and he has a little roar. So he would roar, and then the kid next to me would roar. Over and over and over. So loud that we could not hear the dialog or the words to any of the songs. He was as loud as the show and was louder the majority of the time. And no one said a word about it. The mom cooed at the kid, and the dad just sort of acted like he was oblivious to the whole situation. I'm married? This is my child? What? Sir, Madam, I know not what you speak of! Not that you dared speak of anything!
Boo. People and life and the world, boo.
Sigh. It's not often that I think, "Gee, I wish we had seats WAY farther back and hadn't spent all this money on these seats at the front." Actually, it's never that I think that. So this was a first.
Anyway, we at least got out and about and that counts for something. The photo we took before we left sort of exemplifies our big date. It's actually a good photo. You just can't really see that. Extenuating circumstances. Stupid camera. If you look hard, you can see we're happy.
What we should have done is taken a photo of Mav the dog, who could not push us out of the house fast enough. We had the pet sitter come spend some time with her, and she could not have been more ready to get us the f- out. Give me my treat balls and kong, Suckers! Later! Get out! Don't let the door hit you on your way out!
When we got home, she was just as happy to see us, and she had a big smile on her face. OH MY GOD THE LADY CAME AND THERE WAS AFFECTION AND ATTENTION AND OH MY GOD MORE TREATS IN THE TREAT BALLS AND OH. MY. GOD. GUYS! GUYS! I LOVE YOU GUYS!
We love you, too, Mav.
So, we put on our comfy clothes, grabbed some take-out, and cuddled with a barely-conscious Mav on the couch while watching Hell On Wheels. Which was even better than our actual date. And a lot cheaper. And quieter, too.
*Soft roars*
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
An Actual Date Is Happening Soon!
We survived another Ramadan. Well, the hubby survived and I watched him survive. He lost A LOT of weight this time. 20-30 pounds. I'm just trying to keep him hydrated and well fed at this point. I would prefer not to outweigh my husband. How are we supposed to cuddle if I'm worried about breaking him?
Towards the end of Ramadan, my folks came for a visit, which was nice. It was a little much for the hubby with his long work hours plus the fasting, so he was able to stay home with Mav the dog while I ran around town with them.
OMG, the most exciting thing in my life? The new Blueberry Summer Sparkler at Olive Garden. Best drink I've ever had. Thank you, Mom and Dad. The blurb on the menu said it had blueberry juice, cranberry juice, soda water, and lime in it.
I was all, "THIS IS AWESOME! I SHALL RECREATE THIS AT HOME!"
Because how hard could that be?
*Crickets chirping*
So far, the hubby has tasted 3 of my attempts at duplication, each one more medicine-y and cringe-inducing than the last. I should have taken reaction photos. I would say that I'll start now, but I think that would be a lie because I have to quit. Literally, every time I try, it's just getting worse. And I make a glass at a time, so I feel like it's too much of a waste to throw it out, and maybe, hey, I'll like it by the last sip of the straw?
Um, no. No. No. No. I'm sorry, Olive Garden. You win. I quit. I have discovered how to make dumpster-flavored cough syrup but not your tasty, tasty drink.
In other Happy Wife news, the hubby and I left Mav the dog alone last weekend. This was sort of a big deal. We haven't left the house together (without her) since Memorial Day. Of course, the reason we left the house...
2 of our kitties had their yearly vet check up and vaccinations. Heh. Since these 2 were feral adults when we rescued them, they also needed to be microchipped. I mean, what setting and activity could be more romantic, am I right?
Yeah, so... Not so much.
There is a reason vets like to microchip an animal while it is out for its spay/neuter surgery. That is one honking needle, if you can even call it that. Hera and Apollo were troopers, though. Not a peep. And the husband did all the heavy lifting and driving, so I thought that was very gentlemanly. :)
Mav was fine when we got home and has been doing pretty well. Her hips are bothering her and we're still watching her pretty closely, but her little roller coaster of infections have been successfully treated. She is also sleeping through the night most of the time, which I don't think she's done in years. I wish that was an exaggeration. I'm just glad she seems happy.
The husband and I, well, we actually have a fancy smancy, leave-the-house date planned in a couple days. FOR REAL. I am pretty excited. It has been a really long time since we're gone out for ourselves.
Our much-loved pet sitter will be checking in on Mav while we're out. It's overkill, I know. We're not going far - just downtown. We could have just left her and she'd probably be fine for those couple hours, but it's more for our sake of mind.
Also, then I can concentrate on walking in my "these are for looks!" shoes and holding down my dress if there is a sudden breeze. Cross your fingers for us that we manage to get out and back without being knocked around too badly by the aftermath of the hurricane. Just because we're in the Midwest doesn't mean we're not going to get the remnants of that massive storm.
My shoes are not made for nature.
I'll make sure the batteries in my camera are charged. The photos could be... Memorable.
YAY!
Towards the end of Ramadan, my folks came for a visit, which was nice. It was a little much for the hubby with his long work hours plus the fasting, so he was able to stay home with Mav the dog while I ran around town with them.
OMG, the most exciting thing in my life? The new Blueberry Summer Sparkler at Olive Garden. Best drink I've ever had. Thank you, Mom and Dad. The blurb on the menu said it had blueberry juice, cranberry juice, soda water, and lime in it.
I was all, "THIS IS AWESOME! I SHALL RECREATE THIS AT HOME!"
Because how hard could that be?
*Crickets chirping*
So far, the hubby has tasted 3 of my attempts at duplication, each one more medicine-y and cringe-inducing than the last. I should have taken reaction photos. I would say that I'll start now, but I think that would be a lie because I have to quit. Literally, every time I try, it's just getting worse. And I make a glass at a time, so I feel like it's too much of a waste to throw it out, and maybe, hey, I'll like it by the last sip of the straw?
Um, no. No. No. No. I'm sorry, Olive Garden. You win. I quit. I have discovered how to make dumpster-flavored cough syrup but not your tasty, tasty drink.
In other Happy Wife news, the hubby and I left Mav the dog alone last weekend. This was sort of a big deal. We haven't left the house together (without her) since Memorial Day. Of course, the reason we left the house...
2 of our kitties had their yearly vet check up and vaccinations. Heh. Since these 2 were feral adults when we rescued them, they also needed to be microchipped. I mean, what setting and activity could be more romantic, am I right?
Yeah, so... Not so much.
There is a reason vets like to microchip an animal while it is out for its spay/neuter surgery. That is one honking needle, if you can even call it that. Hera and Apollo were troopers, though. Not a peep. And the husband did all the heavy lifting and driving, so I thought that was very gentlemanly. :)
Mav was fine when we got home and has been doing pretty well. Her hips are bothering her and we're still watching her pretty closely, but her little roller coaster of infections have been successfully treated. She is also sleeping through the night most of the time, which I don't think she's done in years. I wish that was an exaggeration. I'm just glad she seems happy.
The husband and I, well, we actually have a fancy smancy, leave-the-house date planned in a couple days. FOR REAL. I am pretty excited. It has been a really long time since we're gone out for ourselves.
Our much-loved pet sitter will be checking in on Mav while we're out. It's overkill, I know. We're not going far - just downtown. We could have just left her and she'd probably be fine for those couple hours, but it's more for our sake of mind.
Also, then I can concentrate on walking in my "these are for looks!" shoes and holding down my dress if there is a sudden breeze. Cross your fingers for us that we manage to get out and back without being knocked around too badly by the aftermath of the hurricane. Just because we're in the Midwest doesn't mean we're not going to get the remnants of that massive storm.
My shoes are not made for nature.
I'll make sure the batteries in my camera are charged. The photos could be... Memorable.
YAY!
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Making Plates = Romance
Ramadan is still going strong in the Happy Wife house. It is winding down, though. Pretty soon it will just be another memory in the back of our minds.
The husband has had a lot going on at work, and when he has been home, he's either been asleep or sitting up on the couch while I make and bring him a plate of supper to break the fast. That is really about as exciting as it has been around here. That is as romantic as it gets, right?
No matter how tired I am or how crappy I feel, I always find some contentment when fixing him a meal. That is one reason I was able to marry a man that I considered out of my league - I knew no one would love him more than I would or would treat him better.
Tonight - lamb chops!
I should note my love affair with the cast iron pan hit a brick wall. My bad, though. My bad. I made a new-to-us kind of turkey burger and the teriyaki glaze pretty much destroyed the pan. My fault. Anything with a sugar-y glaze is not for the cast iron. Duly noted. You win that round, cast iron.
I also grated fresh ginger and used that for the first time. When I took a bite of the burger, I winced and went, "WHAT IS THAT?" and then a second later I said, "Oh, it's ginger. Wow. This turkey burger is very... ginger-y. Did I say turkey burger? I meant ginger burger. My ginger burger has a dash of turkey in it."
Hooray for fasting! My starving husband ate them all. Eagerly.
In other news, my folks came to visit over the weekend. I was busy running around with them while the hubby slept and stayed with Mav. Mav's doing better - her last culture came back with no growth and she is off the medication that wants to kill me. I never did tell the vet I have a life-threatening allergy to the one med she needed to take. See? It's fine. Totally fine.
Unrelated to any of that, I am sure, I may or may not have my side effects back from my surgery last summer and I may or may not also have MRSA again. But it is totally fine. Nothing a couple days on the couch can't cure while watching all the shows and eating all the snacks. FINE. I AM FINE.
You just never know. I could wake up tomorrow back to normal. The world is full of surprises.
The husband has had a lot going on at work, and when he has been home, he's either been asleep or sitting up on the couch while I make and bring him a plate of supper to break the fast. That is really about as exciting as it has been around here. That is as romantic as it gets, right?
No matter how tired I am or how crappy I feel, I always find some contentment when fixing him a meal. That is one reason I was able to marry a man that I considered out of my league - I knew no one would love him more than I would or would treat him better.
Tonight - lamb chops!
I should note my love affair with the cast iron pan hit a brick wall. My bad, though. My bad. I made a new-to-us kind of turkey burger and the teriyaki glaze pretty much destroyed the pan. My fault. Anything with a sugar-y glaze is not for the cast iron. Duly noted. You win that round, cast iron.
I also grated fresh ginger and used that for the first time. When I took a bite of the burger, I winced and went, "WHAT IS THAT?" and then a second later I said, "Oh, it's ginger. Wow. This turkey burger is very... ginger-y. Did I say turkey burger? I meant ginger burger. My ginger burger has a dash of turkey in it."
Hooray for fasting! My starving husband ate them all. Eagerly.
In other news, my folks came to visit over the weekend. I was busy running around with them while the hubby slept and stayed with Mav. Mav's doing better - her last culture came back with no growth and she is off the medication that wants to kill me. I never did tell the vet I have a life-threatening allergy to the one med she needed to take. See? It's fine. Totally fine.
Unrelated to any of that, I am sure, I may or may not have my side effects back from my surgery last summer and I may or may not also have MRSA again. But it is totally fine. Nothing a couple days on the couch can't cure while watching all the shows and eating all the snacks. FINE. I AM FINE.
You just never know. I could wake up tomorrow back to normal. The world is full of surprises.
The other day, I walked into our dining room to find this:
And then my eyes got all water-y.
2 cats? Big whoop in our house, right?
Well, yes. The black kitty is Bernie and the black and grey tabby in the window is Atlas. Bernie is one of the 2 cats we have that goes to a behaviorist.
She has, to our knowledge, never even been in the dining room before.
She has also never been in the same room with Atlas for A) more than 2 minutes and B) without the two trying to kill each other. They can't even see each other from across the house without hissing and growling and just basically losing their little kitty minds...
But there they both were, very close to one another, not a peep. I went and petted them, and they both purred easily and loudly. They stayed like that in the dining room, calm and sleepy, for about 3 hours.
I just... I don't...
Miracles. Happening right here. Right. Here.
I think I know how things are, what will happen in my own house, the minds and personalities of the 4-legged and 2-legged family around me, but I don't. I can and do continue to be massively, massively surprised. And this time, in a beautiful and hopeful way. Wow. The world is just a crazy, crazy place. I'll never have a handle on it, but that's good because things like this happen. Seemingly little or unremarkable things that somehow just shock the crap out of me. It's not all phone calls in the middle of the night.
Sometimes it's just walking into a room in the middle of the day.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Happy Birthday To Me
Saturday was my birthday. Woooo! I'm so old! Halfway to 64!
In 3 years, I'll be old enough to be President. That doesn't seem right. Not that I would or could ever do that. A) I think you should be able to point at and name all the states correctly in this country and also probably be able to point at and name at least several other countries. And B) in general, you should be WAY, WAY more intelligent than I am. I am just smart enough to know that I should not be in any decision-y or powerful-ish positions. I mean, I can't even keep track of my cell phone in my own house.
This should be the part where I say we did something exciting or that it was a big deal. There was cake. Very late-at-night cake.
I bought a piece of chocolate cake with cookies and cream icing in the already-cut cake aisle by the bakery section in Schnucks. Which is an awesome grocery store name.
*Pauses and says the name 3 times and has a nice, satisfied feeling for no reason whatsoever*
Despite it being my birthday, I could not bring myself to actually go up to their little bakery counter (like their meat counter, only with super elaborate desserts!). I am not a petit four person. Not even on a special day, I guess.
Just the words 'petit four' make me feel like I should stop shaving my armpits and say French words like croissant and zee french fry iz zo tast-zy! Wee wee!
I just googled that and I guess it is oui oui. That does and doesn't look right at the same time.
Also, I had to look up petit for petit four and indeed, it is barely more than 'tit' even though that doesn't look right to me either.
Equally important for the President: words and languages.
Sigh.
Basically we just had a really relaxed and productive weekend. Well, I was productive. :)
The hubby was finally able to have a weekend off, so he rested and spent time with Mav. Mav, by the way, had a pretty good vet visit yesterday morning. A couple tests came out great! Now, we're waiting on some more results that could come back anywhere from 2-8 days from now (since they had to be sent out/can't be done in the office). She seems to be feeling better, too. Which is the best birthday present ever! EVER! :)
I received not one, not two, but 3 different birthday cards from my parents. Over a 4 day period. I wondered when the second one came if they had each sent a card and not known the other one had done it as well, but by the third one, I just figured maybe finally the old folks are getting dementia. Which I'll take in this case since I enjoy a happy greeting and a kind word or two. Besides, gives me something to put on the fridge.
My brother sent me a CD and a book, which led me to opening a box and thinking that I had ordered things I had A) not known existed - the book was by Kevin Smith and B) never heard of - the band on the CD, which was My Darkest Days. That was awesome once I realized that I had not done Xanax shopping without having any Xanax.
I started my usual super cleaning (finally). It has definitely been too long, but I'm in the middle of it right now and am oddly enjoying it. I do love me some organizing and moving things around. When I superclean, that means I don't just clean where you can see. I move furniture and all that crap. Sometimes it is a pain but this time I'm feeling pretty good about it.
I also ran errands on my actual big day and had my hair colored and cut again - it seems to be growing really fast. I guess that is what happens when you have a shorter haircut. I really like it.
The husband, of course, could not tell it was a different color. It is subtle, but I think it makes my complexion less albino. I took a photo in essentially the same place as my last picture but even I can barely tell the difference in the photos. In person, it has more dimension and a hint of red.
Since I just talked about cake, I should mention that I used one of the new cast iron grill pans.
And it seems that it and I, well, we are falling in love.
*Cue Barry White ballad*
The hubby and I have been eating well even if it is 10 o'clock at night. Ramadan is going pretty well at this point, and here's hoping the end is coming up around the corner before we know it.
I love that I wrote that "we" completely sincerely but now realize that "we" is sort of ridiculous. I am just observing someone observing Ramadan. Planning meals, encouraging hydration and rest, and being mindful of my husband's time and energy level... Not really comparable.
Says the woman who has a fruit roll-up wrapper next to her computer.
Back to the cast iron. We've cooked 2 different kinds of hamburgers (one with Italian seasonings and the other with Ranch seasonings) and a couple steaks with Chicago-style seasoning. All were very, very good. The key to our love affair (the one I am having with the grill pan) will be whether it does what everyone online says it is supposed to do. That would be to A) continue to cook meat with more and more flavor each time it is used and B) wash up easier and easier.
I know, you're on the edge of your seats wanting to know what will happen. WILL THE MEAT CONTINUE TO BE TASTY? WILL HAPPY WIFE BE DONE DOING DISHES IN A MORE TIMELY MANNER?
I'll leave you with those thoughts. So much excitement and adventure from here. If you can call any of that excitement. :)
In 3 years, I'll be old enough to be President. That doesn't seem right. Not that I would or could ever do that. A) I think you should be able to point at and name all the states correctly in this country and also probably be able to point at and name at least several other countries. And B) in general, you should be WAY, WAY more intelligent than I am. I am just smart enough to know that I should not be in any decision-y or powerful-ish positions. I mean, I can't even keep track of my cell phone in my own house.
This should be the part where I say we did something exciting or that it was a big deal. There was cake. Very late-at-night cake.
I bought a piece of chocolate cake with cookies and cream icing in the already-cut cake aisle by the bakery section in Schnucks. Which is an awesome grocery store name.
*Pauses and says the name 3 times and has a nice, satisfied feeling for no reason whatsoever*
Despite it being my birthday, I could not bring myself to actually go up to their little bakery counter (like their meat counter, only with super elaborate desserts!). I am not a petit four person. Not even on a special day, I guess.
Just the words 'petit four' make me feel like I should stop shaving my armpits and say French words like croissant and zee french fry iz zo tast-zy! Wee wee!
I just googled that and I guess it is oui oui. That does and doesn't look right at the same time.
Also, I had to look up petit for petit four and indeed, it is barely more than 'tit' even though that doesn't look right to me either.
Equally important for the President: words and languages.
Sigh.
Basically we just had a really relaxed and productive weekend. Well, I was productive. :)
The hubby was finally able to have a weekend off, so he rested and spent time with Mav. Mav, by the way, had a pretty good vet visit yesterday morning. A couple tests came out great! Now, we're waiting on some more results that could come back anywhere from 2-8 days from now (since they had to be sent out/can't be done in the office). She seems to be feeling better, too. Which is the best birthday present ever! EVER! :)
I received not one, not two, but 3 different birthday cards from my parents. Over a 4 day period. I wondered when the second one came if they had each sent a card and not known the other one had done it as well, but by the third one, I just figured maybe finally the old folks are getting dementia. Which I'll take in this case since I enjoy a happy greeting and a kind word or two. Besides, gives me something to put on the fridge.
My brother sent me a CD and a book, which led me to opening a box and thinking that I had ordered things I had A) not known existed - the book was by Kevin Smith and B) never heard of - the band on the CD, which was My Darkest Days. That was awesome once I realized that I had not done Xanax shopping without having any Xanax.
I started my usual super cleaning (finally). It has definitely been too long, but I'm in the middle of it right now and am oddly enjoying it. I do love me some organizing and moving things around. When I superclean, that means I don't just clean where you can see. I move furniture and all that crap. Sometimes it is a pain but this time I'm feeling pretty good about it.
I also ran errands on my actual big day and had my hair colored and cut again - it seems to be growing really fast. I guess that is what happens when you have a shorter haircut. I really like it.
The husband, of course, could not tell it was a different color. It is subtle, but I think it makes my complexion less albino. I took a photo in essentially the same place as my last picture but even I can barely tell the difference in the photos. In person, it has more dimension and a hint of red.
Bonus information:
Wearing that new necklace for my birthday was super fun.
It kept sort of lassoing one boob or the other.
Why am I allowed out in public again?
I never see other people removing their boobs from their necklaces.
IT MUST BE ONLY ME.
Happy birthday, Dumbass.
Since I just talked about cake, I should mention that I used one of the new cast iron grill pans.
And it seems that it and I, well, we are falling in love.
*Cue Barry White ballad*
The hubby and I have been eating well even if it is 10 o'clock at night. Ramadan is going pretty well at this point, and here's hoping the end is coming up around the corner before we know it.
I love that I wrote that "we" completely sincerely but now realize that "we" is sort of ridiculous. I am just observing someone observing Ramadan. Planning meals, encouraging hydration and rest, and being mindful of my husband's time and energy level... Not really comparable.
Says the woman who has a fruit roll-up wrapper next to her computer.
Back to the cast iron. We've cooked 2 different kinds of hamburgers (one with Italian seasonings and the other with Ranch seasonings) and a couple steaks with Chicago-style seasoning. All were very, very good. The key to our love affair (the one I am having with the grill pan) will be whether it does what everyone online says it is supposed to do. That would be to A) continue to cook meat with more and more flavor each time it is used and B) wash up easier and easier.
I know, you're on the edge of your seats wanting to know what will happen. WILL THE MEAT CONTINUE TO BE TASTY? WILL HAPPY WIFE BE DONE DOING DISHES IN A MORE TIMELY MANNER?
I'll leave you with those thoughts. So much excitement and adventure from here. If you can call any of that excitement. :)
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
I Have A Little Winning, Too, Ramadan
So, my post 2 seconds ago was a little negative. The delivery was a little group of presents I got for the hubby. So there, Ramadan! I have some winning, too! I'm not the worst person on the planet!
Also, for the cultural record, gift giving isn't the way we (or anyone?) celebrate Ramadan.
I'm just too Midwestern to not be all, "Important holy days? EQUAL PRESENTS! AMERICA! 'MERICA!"
I mean, I may or may not have been part of a "Clowns For Christ" group in high school. That's how I know there is a god. Because there is no photographic evidence of that fact.
I bought 2 grill pans because the hubby is missing steak. My history with grill pans is not great. I have yet to find one that is easy to clean. These two were not pricey and were well reviewed on Amazon, so I thought I'd give 'em a shot.
I mentioned our oven broke, yes? I haven't mentioned how we're too lazy to shop for a new one. The electrician said the stove top burners still work, and although I was reluctant at first to use them despite his total confidence in them, I have come around. Now all we can't do really is bake or broil, and broiling was really the only thing we did on a regular basis.
Also, for the cultural record, gift giving isn't the way we (or anyone?) celebrate Ramadan.
I'm just too Midwestern to not be all, "Important holy days? EQUAL PRESENTS! AMERICA! 'MERICA!"
I mean, I may or may not have been part of a "Clowns For Christ" group in high school. That's how I know there is a god. Because there is no photographic evidence of that fact.
I bought 2 grill pans because the hubby is missing steak. My history with grill pans is not great. I have yet to find one that is easy to clean. These two were not pricey and were well reviewed on Amazon, so I thought I'd give 'em a shot.
I mentioned our oven broke, yes? I haven't mentioned how we're too lazy to shop for a new one. The electrician said the stove top burners still work, and although I was reluctant at first to use them despite his total confidence in them, I have come around. Now all we can't do really is bake or broil, and broiling was really the only thing we did on a regular basis.
Meat! It's what's for dinner!
I also bought the hubby 2 CDs and a book.
The hubby has wanted to read Moneyball since we saw the movie.
And, since he still only listens to the same 7 CDs
he had in college, I decided to try to expand his collection.
He loves Smashing Pumpkins
but hasn't bought a CD since, oh, 1994,
and I'm pretty sure the other guy
is from System of a Down,
which is another of his favorite bands.
Of which he has like, 4.
SOAD = a little too RAHR RAHR for me.
If I could whistle, I would whistle the tune
to Call Me Maybe right now.
I like a lot of terrible music.
Although I got 3 Glen Campbell CDs in the box.
I realize I am 50 years late to that party,
but he is awesome.
My iTunes is up to 9,088 songs.
They aren't all terrible.
At least like a couple are decent.
Isley 4 seconds after the presents came out of the box.
Pandora is also helping display the hubby's surprise.
Hope he likes everything!
Ramadan Is Winning
Ramadan is winning in the Happy Wife House. The husband is exhausted, has something I have nicknamed Islamic-Whooping-Cough, and he managed to fall up the stairs last night. It was very, very impressive. My favorite part of the day is when he asks in a completely serious tone, "What is wrong with me?"
*Crickets chirping*
I also may or may not have told him last night that "Perhaps Ramadan is a young man's game!" which did not go over well.
I had also forgotten the worst part of the whole thing. Once the fasting starts for the day, you can't even brush your teeth. No gargling. No Listerine breath strips, no mints, nothing. You can do nothing.
In other words, the husband's breath is a weapon of mass destruction at this point. All he has to do with anyone who is bothering him at work is to take them into a room and shut the door and talk to them.
Punishment level: Jason Bourne and Dark Vador had a baby and it's my hubby's Ramadan breath.
It's like a family of large raccoons have died in the walls of an old moldy house after collecting an Easter egg hunt amount of rotten eggs mixed with the smell of a nursing home about an hour after it has served all its residents taco bell for lunch (and combine all of that and then stick it out for several days in the +100 degree hot, dry weather we're having and then you're getting close to the idea of the smell).
He doesn't even have to be facing you or breathing with his mouth open. It's that powerful!
On my end, well, some bad breath would probably be a step up. I'm not fasting but I am still trying to plan meals so they are ready when he can break the fast, which means that somehow I also manage to feel kinda crappy by bedtime. Turns out there is a reason no one has slow cooked beef short ribs and gravy over sour cream and chive mashed potatoes with glazed cinnamon apples at 10 o'clock at night.
My "I give up shopping for Ramadan" is not going well. I took a shirt that I had ordered online from Dressbarn back to the store on the second day of Ramadan. I walked out of Dressbarn with a new credit card and essentially everything cute they were selling.
I told the hubby he needs to start blocking websites on my computer and he was all eye-roll-y and gave me a semi-serious, "Sure, okay." I AM SERIOUS. I HAVE A PROBLEM. I NEED OLD NAVY, KOHLS, AND DSW TURNED OFF. NOW.
Because the shoes don't buy themselves.
And my husband shrugging it off like I haven't fallen off the deep end into the interwebs? Only makes me want to buy all the things all the time even more.
I have decided to go back to "I give up alcohol for Ramadan" because the last time I had alcohol was at a work function back in 2001.
Excuse me. The UPS man is here. Fed Ex has already been here. I wish I was kidding.
Ramadan: 1
Happy Wife House: MINUS A BAZILLION
*Crickets chirping*
I also may or may not have told him last night that "Perhaps Ramadan is a young man's game!" which did not go over well.
I had also forgotten the worst part of the whole thing. Once the fasting starts for the day, you can't even brush your teeth. No gargling. No Listerine breath strips, no mints, nothing. You can do nothing.
In other words, the husband's breath is a weapon of mass destruction at this point. All he has to do with anyone who is bothering him at work is to take them into a room and shut the door and talk to them.
Punishment level: Jason Bourne and Dark Vador had a baby and it's my hubby's Ramadan breath.
It's like a family of large raccoons have died in the walls of an old moldy house after collecting an Easter egg hunt amount of rotten eggs mixed with the smell of a nursing home about an hour after it has served all its residents taco bell for lunch (and combine all of that and then stick it out for several days in the +100 degree hot, dry weather we're having and then you're getting close to the idea of the smell).
He doesn't even have to be facing you or breathing with his mouth open. It's that powerful!
On my end, well, some bad breath would probably be a step up. I'm not fasting but I am still trying to plan meals so they are ready when he can break the fast, which means that somehow I also manage to feel kinda crappy by bedtime. Turns out there is a reason no one has slow cooked beef short ribs and gravy over sour cream and chive mashed potatoes with glazed cinnamon apples at 10 o'clock at night.
My "I give up shopping for Ramadan" is not going well. I took a shirt that I had ordered online from Dressbarn back to the store on the second day of Ramadan. I walked out of Dressbarn with a new credit card and essentially everything cute they were selling.
I told the hubby he needs to start blocking websites on my computer and he was all eye-roll-y and gave me a semi-serious, "Sure, okay." I AM SERIOUS. I HAVE A PROBLEM. I NEED OLD NAVY, KOHLS, AND DSW TURNED OFF. NOW.
Because the shoes don't buy themselves.
And my husband shrugging it off like I haven't fallen off the deep end into the interwebs? Only makes me want to buy all the things all the time even more.
I have decided to go back to "I give up alcohol for Ramadan" because the last time I had alcohol was at a work function back in 2001.
Excuse me. The UPS man is here. Fed Ex has already been here. I wish I was kidding.
Ramadan: 1
Happy Wife House: MINUS A BAZILLION
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Happy Wife Update
Things in the Happy Wife house are going okay. No dating. We still haven't left the house together except to take Mav on some of her beloved car rides. Does that count as a date? We don't even get out of the car. We just drive.
The day after my last post, Mav was peeing blood. This (in addition to having some other problems) led us to A. she has Cushing's Disease or B. she has Chronic Renal Failure. Both bad but one worse than the other. Kidney failure is 100% fatal and essentially untreatable.
Happy wife's husband's reaction was, "Do they have dog dialysis?"
I love that man. Doggie dialysis. Lord.
So, I was ready to throw a party if it was Cushing's disease. I may be the only person ever to say that since Cushing's sucks.
Long story short, there was about a week where we went to bed thinking maybe the next night, Mav would be gone. There was a lot of practicing my mantra of "I care about her comfort and her quality of life" in case the news was going to make me hysterical. I needed to be able to access those words in the middle of a complete meltdown.
Thankfully, we have been given some good news for the time being. We have been trying to appreciate every moment, before and after the call that finally came.
Mav probably does not have kidney failure!
Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! (*Kermit flail*)
We need to retest for Cushing's because all we know for sure is that she has a hell of an antibiotic-resistant urinary infection and her Cushing's test came back, wait for it, "suspicious" (which is probably my favorite test result ever). 4 weeks of giving her the one drug I have a life-threatening allergy to in order to try and beat the infection and then we'll retest for Cushing's.
I'll take it! I WILL TAKE IT. And some Benadryl. So I don't die even though I'm handling her medication fully gloved and practically sterile.
I should still be upset, I guess, but I was so stressed thinking that maybe we'd be putting her to sleep at, oh, like any moment, that I am totally fine. A lot of it may just be me un-bracing myself. I braced the sh*t out of myself. I kept my mind occupied. The hubby couldn't even channel surf because then my brain had time to wander. He was all, "Do you want to talk about it?" and I was all, "WHAT PART OF 'I AM BARELY HOLDING IT TOGETHER' IS CONFUSING? NO. NO I DO NOT. PICK A FRICKIN' SHOW AND IF YOU MAKE ME WATCH TURTLE-MAN FOR ONE MORE MINUTE, I WILL BURN DOWN THIS HOUSE."
We started a new-to-us show we both agreed on and that's been our together entertainment ever since.
Thank you, Rescue Me. *Very animated claps for Dennis Leary*
Also, sort of sad eyes for Dennis Leary as we watch more and more. Such a funny and dramatic show that is also dark. So dark. Really, really dark. Someone needs to give Dennis Leary some cake or something. Stat!
When we haven't been watching Rescue Me, the hubby's been working and I've been busying myself in all sorts of ways.
Watched Breaking Bad. All of it. Am now caught up with Breaking Bad.
Organized all the papers on my husband's desk. For fun. He has not gone through anything since January. I also found 2 receipts from 2008 and one from 2006. ON HIS DESK. RANDOMLY.
I made him elaborate binders of all his receipts and other papers. Elaborate, elaborate binders.
I made massive quantities of food for the husband for Ramadan. Never have I enjoyed chopping like I have enjoyed chopping. Why use canned tomatoes and tomato sauce when I can chop a thousand tomatoes? I'm helping. I'm using fresh ingredients! Healthy, healthy.
Ramadan starts either tomorrow or Saturday.
I was all *gasps*, "Do you mean to tell me, Honey, that my whitey-white Weimaraner Puppies Wegman calendar is wrong? Crackers be crazy!
(Our Weim calendar says Ramadan starts TODAY!)
And then we laughed for a long time because I can't say "crackers" all racist-y without being sort of flattered because I happen to love crackers. I mean, have you seen the all new Ritz/Triscuit/Wheat Thin varieties? The cracker aisle in your local supermarket is now filled with crackers flavored with all these herbs and (hoity-toity voice inserted here) artisanal cheeses. I'll be a cracker. Vermont White Cheddar Wheat Thins? Um, yes please. Nom nom nom. Yummy.
Then, I went all Lent-y on Ramadan by saying I am going to give up shopping... Since I can't fast like a normal person anymore. I'll end up in the hospital. Which is not the point of Ramadan. But it is definitely going to be difficult for me as well as incredibly beneficial to our finances and our marriage. IT'S ON!
When does that start again?
Literally, someone just delivered a box to the front door. Like right now. Mav is barking like crazy.
Well, that's it from here for now. Obviously, the sooner Ramadan starts, the better.
The day after my last post, Mav was peeing blood. This (in addition to having some other problems) led us to A. she has Cushing's Disease or B. she has Chronic Renal Failure. Both bad but one worse than the other. Kidney failure is 100% fatal and essentially untreatable.
Happy wife's husband's reaction was, "Do they have dog dialysis?"
I love that man. Doggie dialysis. Lord.
So, I was ready to throw a party if it was Cushing's disease. I may be the only person ever to say that since Cushing's sucks.
Long story short, there was about a week where we went to bed thinking maybe the next night, Mav would be gone. There was a lot of practicing my mantra of "I care about her comfort and her quality of life" in case the news was going to make me hysterical. I needed to be able to access those words in the middle of a complete meltdown.
Thankfully, we have been given some good news for the time being. We have been trying to appreciate every moment, before and after the call that finally came.
Mav probably does not have kidney failure!
Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! (*Kermit flail*)
We need to retest for Cushing's because all we know for sure is that she has a hell of an antibiotic-resistant urinary infection and her Cushing's test came back, wait for it, "suspicious" (which is probably my favorite test result ever). 4 weeks of giving her the one drug I have a life-threatening allergy to in order to try and beat the infection and then we'll retest for Cushing's.
I'll take it! I WILL TAKE IT. And some Benadryl. So I don't die even though I'm handling her medication fully gloved and practically sterile.
I should still be upset, I guess, but I was so stressed thinking that maybe we'd be putting her to sleep at, oh, like any moment, that I am totally fine. A lot of it may just be me un-bracing myself. I braced the sh*t out of myself. I kept my mind occupied. The hubby couldn't even channel surf because then my brain had time to wander. He was all, "Do you want to talk about it?" and I was all, "WHAT PART OF 'I AM BARELY HOLDING IT TOGETHER' IS CONFUSING? NO. NO I DO NOT. PICK A FRICKIN' SHOW AND IF YOU MAKE ME WATCH TURTLE-MAN FOR ONE MORE MINUTE, I WILL BURN DOWN THIS HOUSE."
We started a new-to-us show we both agreed on and that's been our together entertainment ever since.
Thank you, Rescue Me. *Very animated claps for Dennis Leary*
Also, sort of sad eyes for Dennis Leary as we watch more and more. Such a funny and dramatic show that is also dark. So dark. Really, really dark. Someone needs to give Dennis Leary some cake or something. Stat!
When we haven't been watching Rescue Me, the hubby's been working and I've been busying myself in all sorts of ways.
Watched Breaking Bad. All of it. Am now caught up with Breaking Bad.
Organized all the papers on my husband's desk. For fun. He has not gone through anything since January. I also found 2 receipts from 2008 and one from 2006. ON HIS DESK. RANDOMLY.
I made him elaborate binders of all his receipts and other papers. Elaborate, elaborate binders.
I made massive quantities of food for the husband for Ramadan. Never have I enjoyed chopping like I have enjoyed chopping. Why use canned tomatoes and tomato sauce when I can chop a thousand tomatoes? I'm helping. I'm using fresh ingredients! Healthy, healthy.
Ramadan starts either tomorrow or Saturday.
I was all *gasps*, "Do you mean to tell me, Honey, that my whitey-white Weimaraner Puppies Wegman calendar is wrong? Crackers be crazy!
(Our Weim calendar says Ramadan starts TODAY!)
And then we laughed for a long time because I can't say "crackers" all racist-y without being sort of flattered because I happen to love crackers. I mean, have you seen the all new Ritz/Triscuit/Wheat Thin varieties? The cracker aisle in your local supermarket is now filled with crackers flavored with all these herbs and (hoity-toity voice inserted here) artisanal cheeses. I'll be a cracker. Vermont White Cheddar Wheat Thins? Um, yes please. Nom nom nom. Yummy.
Then, I went all Lent-y on Ramadan by saying I am going to give up shopping... Since I can't fast like a normal person anymore. I'll end up in the hospital. Which is not the point of Ramadan. But it is definitely going to be difficult for me as well as incredibly beneficial to our finances and our marriage. IT'S ON!
When does that start again?
Literally, someone just delivered a box to the front door. Like right now. Mav is barking like crazy.
Well, that's it from here for now. Obviously, the sooner Ramadan starts, the better.
Monday, July 2, 2012
NOTHING CAN BE THAT WRONG IF MY HAIR IS THIS CUTE
Things here are... Well... Yeah. I'm digging my new haircut. All aboard the positivity train!
Douchebags!
Who said that? Was that you, Consumer Reports? How rude! They're human beings! *Dart eyes around room looking for the source of such foul language*
I also found parts of the hubby's old desk, Christmas ornaments, where all our ants from when we moved in went to die, a couple tools, some milk bottle caps, 10 cents (score!), a lot of dog food, and a ton of tiny, multicolored plastic pieces to... things. I cleaned them and showed them to the husband and we went through the "What did this come off of?" game show where we lost every single round.
Also, this morning, still less gross than under the oven, I woke up to discover Mav had peed in her sleep.
Ask me where she was sleeping last night.
Go ahead.
Ask me.
Don't want to? Okay. I'll make it a fun game. We put a baby gate in the doorway so she is in the room with us all night. So the answer could be worse, I guess. She wasn't on the powerless oven or anything.
Yep, that would have been worse now that I think about it, if only for the fact that the guy would have to sort of be warned about it before he attempted to fix things.
Back to the question. She slept in all the following places last night, but where was she sleeping this morning when I woke up and found it? Winner gets a vial of my tears.
Was it:
A) on her dog bed
B) on the floor
C) on her loveseat at the foot of our bed
D) on my husband's old college twin bed next to the closet
E) on our bed
or
F) on our bed ON ME
Mmmmm-hmmmm. I don't even have to tell you the answer because you already know it in your hearts, don't you?
F-yeah, you do!
See what I did there? I am so impressed with myself! I AM A WORD WIZARD! A WORD GENIUS! A WORD PIMP! WORDS ARE MY HOES!
Poor Mav. I'm not mad or upset in the least. Thank you free-with-the-mattress waterproof mattress pad! I don't think she had any idea. I just feel awful for her.
I freaked out like why is she falling apart? Are her systems shutting down? Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!
My vet actually responded to this very calmly. Like you would for an elderly person, I guess. He did not jump to "obviously it's a never-before-seen mixture of the AIDS cancer and the plague" like I guess I did. He decided to approach it as something we can easily handle whether it's just her being spayed mixed with her advancing age or an infection.
I guess the only thing currently breaking in the Happy Wife house is my sanity and possibly my heart. Oh, and our pocketbook. I just spent more money than I am willing to admit buying very well reviewed waterproof mattress pads on Amazon. They are going under all the slipcovers on the furniture and dog beds in the house. Which I do not think is overkill.
Overkill would be replacing all the carpet and flooring with waterproof mattress pads.
Still a fraction of the cost of an oven, though. Perhaps I should give that more thought. Because that is what I should do more of today. Thinking.
*Silence in my ears, silence in my brain, ALL ABOARD THE POSITIVITY TRAIN!*
Toot, toot!
That was not farting. That was the train. For the record.
DID WE TALK ABOUT HOW CUTE MY HAIR IS YET?
ALSO I WORE NEW STEVE MADDEN WEDGES TO THE VET TODAY AND I THINK I LOOK ADORABLE IN MY SPARKLY TOP THAT I HAVEN'T WORN BEFORE BUT I WILL NOT TAKE A PHOTO BECAUSE IF THE PHOTO DOESN'T COME OUT WELL AND I DO IN FACT NOT LOOK A-DOR-A-BLE THEN I THINK THIS IS NOT THE DAY TO FACE THAT UNFLATTERING LIGHT BECAUSE I MIGHT LOSE MY SH*T.
I'm going to stare down at my sparkly top now and tell myself how pretty and sparkly I am out loud in a very-not-creepy way. Because that seems like how I should handle the situations that are happening right now and I'm just going to go with it.
I MUST CATCH THE POSITIVITY TRAIN
OR I WILL RIG THE TRACKS WITH EXPLOSIVES!
Is this the hair of someone about to lose it?
OF COURSE NOT!
IT IS ADORABLE!
A+B=unicorns that are decidedly NOT running from pirates.
I mean A+B=C.
*Uncomfortable coughing*
Of course. 1+2=3 and so forth.
Isn't that what I wrote?
Do you hear that?
*Od school phone dialing beeps*
That would be the sound of my husband hiding in the basement, dialing the local padded room establishment. There are going to be old timey sirens and neighing horses outside any minute, as the stage coach to take me away arrives.
...
The exterminator was just here. So that's one thing off the list. His last name is my maiden name, which I find that amusing every time he is here. I'm all, "We're cousins!"
We're not cousins.
I am easily amused. And, as you've probably guessed, slightly off of my game today.
Tomorrow the electrician is coming. Because the Nobel Prize winners who lived here before us wired the oven straight into the fuse box. So there is no outlet or plug for the oven. And they did NOT put it in the fuse box with an actual fuse that we can flip on and off. It's just wired straight into the box itself - because dealing with it without having to mess with the entire electrical current FOR THE WHOLE HOUSE, well, that, my friends, would be crazy!
We're not cousins.
I am easily amused. And, as you've probably guessed, slightly off of my game today.
Tomorrow the electrician is coming. Because the Nobel Prize winners who lived here before us wired the oven straight into the fuse box. So there is no outlet or plug for the oven. And they did NOT put it in the fuse box with an actual fuse that we can flip on and off. It's just wired straight into the box itself - because dealing with it without having to mess with the entire electrical current FOR THE WHOLE HOUSE, well, that, my friends, would be crazy!
We've had problems with it for a couple years, and when our temps hit over 100 last week, ka-pow. The oven is dead. Not "let's mess with it and make it work again" dead but real, "Ha ha ha I refuse to turn on or even say Power Failure on my little dial anymore" dead.
Who knew seeing "Power Failure" on your oven was actually a good thing? Oh, the good old days, when the oven got enough power to at least read "PF!"
We gave it 3 real good "come on, Oven!" tries and the oven never came back on (although the oven light did, so, yeah, awesome and helpful to be able to see that we can't actually turn the oven on and cook anything in there). Before we even started, the hubby and I had a "conversation" where I said maybe we should wait until after the heatwave to even try because what if none of the electric comes back on...
He said no to that and also said that he understood if the electric didn't come back on, OH HERE GO HELL COME. It's been mid to high 100s all week with no day in the 7 day forecast any lower. The hubby, he knew would never hear the end of it.
Ever. Ever. Ever.
Me, Mav, and all the cats get our own hotel rooms.
In Fiji.
We still have electric (and AIR CONDITIONING), so I call that a win.
I was totally stressed about the guy coming. How much electrical work do we need? Am I going to need a new oven?
I checked out Consumer Reports and that was a bad idea. It made me all rage-y. You can test almost 100 ovens but seemingly none under a thousand dollars, Consumer Reports? REALLY? Really, Those-Who-Report-For-The-Consumer?
REALLY?
It seems like Consumer Reports maybe wants me to start videotaping and then youtubing myself freaking out over the information available at Consumer Reports. WHICH IS GOOD FOR NO ONE, CONSUMER REPORTS!
For the $2800 best buy from Consumer Reports, well, that damn oven better come with a chef. And groceries. And the thing better be made out of gold and diamonds. Blood diamonds.
I like my chicken roasted over rubies, thank you.
I don't know what kind of people are spending thousands of dollars on a stove, but there are other people out here, Consumer Reports. WE ARE NOT THOSE PEOPLE, CONSUMER REPORTS. Those people are too busy frying up some truffles and baby seals on their yacht for brunch to even read you, Consumer Reports! They're having brunch even though they had breakfast and are going to have lunch, Consumer Reports!
*Falls on knees, raising hands balled in fists*
CONSUMER REPORTS! WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ME A STROKE? WHY, CONSUMER REPORTS? WHYYYYYYYYYYY?
...
Needed a second there. Sorry.
I will buy a 20 dollar electric skillet, find the George Foreman grill in the top cupboard that my brother game us for Christmas 4 years ago, and park the car on the side of the street with dough covered cookie sheets on the dashboard.
I get that my powerless oven is not useful. Like that song, it is about as useful as a horse with no name...
Um... Why exactly is a nameless horse less useful? I mean, a dead horse, sure. A horse without a moniker? Still seems pretty useful.
Wait, it was just about a guy riding a horse with no name, right? It had nothing to do with being useful or not. Why did I think it had something to do with not being useful?
I'd Wikipedia this but I'm pretty sure I won't survive wiki-ing today.
Man. I am SO RAGE-Y right now.
So, my point is I need to clean at least the area of the house that the electrician is going to see. Last night, I attempted to move the oven.
Ooooooo. The do-it-yourselfers left just enough cord to make it so I cannot slide it out more than a foot from the wall.
I'll tell you, if I ever met them, I would want to do something myself.
BAHAHHAHAHHHHHAAAAAA!
Sorry. The rage-y got a little out of my control there for a moment.
I was able to remove the bottom storage drawer and clean that small area underneath.
It was the most disgusting thing I have ever cleaned. And that is saying something. I have cleaned some disgusting stuff. I went to nursing school. I worked in more than one nursing home. And now I live in a house with a bunch of animals. And a husband.
It was the most disgusting thing I have ever cleaned. And that is saying something. I have cleaned some disgusting stuff. I went to nursing school. I worked in more than one nursing home. And now I live in a house with a bunch of animals. And a husband.
Hell, our address is:
1231 Disgusting Stuff Drive
At Least Nursing Made Me Pretty Immune To All Things Gross, Missouri
630-I Hope That's A Hairball-11
...
I found so many Zima bottlecaps under that oven, I can't even tell you.
And no, we've never drank Zima, thanks for asking.
Although I am not surprised the former owners did. They seem like Zima people to me.
At Least Nursing Made Me Pretty Immune To All Things Gross, Missouri
630-I Hope That's A Hairball-11
...
I found so many Zima bottlecaps under that oven, I can't even tell you.
And no, we've never drank Zima, thanks for asking.
Although I am not surprised the former owners did. They seem like Zima people to me.
Douchebags!
Who said that? Was that you, Consumer Reports? How rude! They're human beings! *Dart eyes around room looking for the source of such foul language*
I also found parts of the hubby's old desk, Christmas ornaments, where all our ants from when we moved in went to die, a couple tools, some milk bottle caps, 10 cents (score!), a lot of dog food, and a ton of tiny, multicolored plastic pieces to... things. I cleaned them and showed them to the husband and we went through the "What did this come off of?" game show where we lost every single round.
Also, this morning, still less gross than under the oven, I woke up to discover Mav had peed in her sleep.
Ask me where she was sleeping last night.
Go ahead.
Ask me.
Don't want to? Okay. I'll make it a fun game. We put a baby gate in the doorway so she is in the room with us all night. So the answer could be worse, I guess. She wasn't on the powerless oven or anything.
Yep, that would have been worse now that I think about it, if only for the fact that the guy would have to sort of be warned about it before he attempted to fix things.
Back to the question. She slept in all the following places last night, but where was she sleeping this morning when I woke up and found it? Winner gets a vial of my tears.
Was it:
A) on her dog bed
B) on the floor
C) on her loveseat at the foot of our bed
D) on my husband's old college twin bed next to the closet
E) on our bed
or
F) on our bed ON ME
Mmmmm-hmmmm. I don't even have to tell you the answer because you already know it in your hearts, don't you?
F-yeah, you do!
See what I did there? I am so impressed with myself! I AM A WORD WIZARD! A WORD GENIUS! A WORD PIMP! WORDS ARE MY HOES!
Poor Mav. I'm not mad or upset in the least. Thank you free-with-the-mattress waterproof mattress pad! I don't think she had any idea. I just feel awful for her.
I freaked out like why is she falling apart? Are her systems shutting down? Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!
My vet actually responded to this very calmly. Like you would for an elderly person, I guess. He did not jump to "obviously it's a never-before-seen mixture of the AIDS cancer and the plague" like I guess I did. He decided to approach it as something we can easily handle whether it's just her being spayed mixed with her advancing age or an infection.
I guess the only thing currently breaking in the Happy Wife house is my sanity and possibly my heart. Oh, and our pocketbook. I just spent more money than I am willing to admit buying very well reviewed waterproof mattress pads on Amazon. They are going under all the slipcovers on the furniture and dog beds in the house. Which I do not think is overkill.
Overkill would be replacing all the carpet and flooring with waterproof mattress pads.
Still a fraction of the cost of an oven, though. Perhaps I should give that more thought. Because that is what I should do more of today. Thinking.
*Silence in my ears, silence in my brain, ALL ABOARD THE POSITIVITY TRAIN!*
Toot, toot!
That was not farting. That was the train. For the record.
DID WE TALK ABOUT HOW CUTE MY HAIR IS YET?
ALSO I WORE NEW STEVE MADDEN WEDGES TO THE VET TODAY AND I THINK I LOOK ADORABLE IN MY SPARKLY TOP THAT I HAVEN'T WORN BEFORE BUT I WILL NOT TAKE A PHOTO BECAUSE IF THE PHOTO DOESN'T COME OUT WELL AND I DO IN FACT NOT LOOK A-DOR-A-BLE THEN I THINK THIS IS NOT THE DAY TO FACE THAT UNFLATTERING LIGHT BECAUSE I MIGHT LOSE MY SH*T.
I'm going to stare down at my sparkly top now and tell myself how pretty and sparkly I am out loud in a very-not-creepy way. Because that seems like how I should handle the situations that are happening right now and I'm just going to go with it.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
The Hot Streak Continues
My hot streak is continuing... I have been carrying my new DSW purse for about 3 weeks. To the vet every other day. To Petco and Petsmart. Do do do dum dee do.
Weekends when the husband takes over dog duty for a few hours? To the grocery. To the dry cleaners. To the post office. Very proud.
It is a giant grey purse. I ordered it online (gasp, you say). When it came in the mail and I opened it, I was like, Hmmmmm. Wow. This is very large.
But I liked it so much I cut off the tag, emptied the gallons of tissue paper out of it, and hung it in a very visible spot in the closet.
I am not used to carrying a large bag, but once I decided to try it for a day, I loved it. It looks so awesome that I immediately felt comfortable with it.
I also subscribe to the notion that tiny women look great with tiny purses and maybe I, not being tiny, should have a more substantial purse. An adult lady purse. Not that my other purses aren't adult. It's just that not too long ago, I went neck deep into the cross body phenomenon, and that was unwise. Ladies with 36Ds should not wear the cross body purse. The twins have a wonderful life of their own and they do not need a big weighty ole tourniquet strap separating 'em. If I'm not going to look like I do crack (Happy Wife's ideal body type!), then enjoying the one bonus from not being rail thin is a necessary pleasure. Ta-da tatas!
Da da dada!
That was the trumpet "here comes the king and queen" solo in case that wasn't clear.
Anyway, I also wanted a bag that would let me take a book to the doctor's office and would allow me and the hubby to sneak in a couple boxes of candy at the movie theater. Stuff like that.
Genius that I am, I still did not open zippered compartment until this morning. I mean, my excuse is that I am still getting used to the normal compartments. I do not have much stuff to put in said gigantic purse in the first place.
Today, I grabbed my purse because some more online stress shopping took hold. I admired it for a while.
Gee, I love this purse, I said to myself.
Then I unzipped the zippered compartment for the first time. Of course.
Also, yes, I am aware that obviously,
from the quality of that there video,
I should dedicate my life to film.
*Juts out chin, holds nose in the air,
walks off to order a beret*
Weekends when the husband takes over dog duty for a few hours? To the grocery. To the dry cleaners. To the post office. Very proud.
It is a giant grey purse. I ordered it online (gasp, you say). When it came in the mail and I opened it, I was like, Hmmmmm. Wow. This is very large.
But I liked it so much I cut off the tag, emptied the gallons of tissue paper out of it, and hung it in a very visible spot in the closet.
I am not used to carrying a large bag, but once I decided to try it for a day, I loved it. It looks so awesome that I immediately felt comfortable with it.
I also subscribe to the notion that tiny women look great with tiny purses and maybe I, not being tiny, should have a more substantial purse. An adult lady purse. Not that my other purses aren't adult. It's just that not too long ago, I went neck deep into the cross body phenomenon, and that was unwise. Ladies with 36Ds should not wear the cross body purse. The twins have a wonderful life of their own and they do not need a big weighty ole tourniquet strap separating 'em. If I'm not going to look like I do crack (Happy Wife's ideal body type!), then enjoying the one bonus from not being rail thin is a necessary pleasure. Ta-da tatas!
Da da dada!
That was the trumpet "here comes the king and queen" solo in case that wasn't clear.
Anyway, I also wanted a bag that would let me take a book to the doctor's office and would allow me and the hubby to sneak in a couple boxes of candy at the movie theater. Stuff like that.
Last week I discovered something on the back of the purse.
Well, hell. Do you see it?
An entire zippered compartment!
Hi there, Pocket!
Genius that I am, I still did not open zippered compartment until this morning. I mean, my excuse is that I am still getting used to the normal compartments. I do not have much stuff to put in said gigantic purse in the first place.
Today, I grabbed my purse because some more online stress shopping took hold. I admired it for a while.
Gee, I love this purse, I said to myself.
Then I unzipped the zippered compartment for the first time. Of course.
There was a little tissue paper in there.
* All tissue pictured is from the ONE
little zippered compartment in the back.
Hermes and Isley are incredulous.
Or they are just impressed by how much of a moron I can be.
Also, is it me, or does Isley look like
The Most Interesting Cat In The World
in this photo of him and the purse?
I don't always play with tissue paper,
but when I do, I make sure it's from a purse
that meets my level of style and sophistication.
I wonder what other dumb things I am doing right now
(and when I will catch onto them).
Also, yes, I am aware that obviously,
from the quality of that there video,
I should dedicate my life to film.
*Juts out chin, holds nose in the air,
walks off to order a beret*
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Oh No You Didn't!
Son of a...
Mav got so excited for the vet that she forgot she was in pain.
Because there is a car ride involved!
And people!
And the tech she loves!
And the vet she likes pretty well!
Except when he's trying to do stuff to her like take blood or perform range of motion on her limbs! Then she gets all offended!
But not offended enough to stop wagging!
Car! Other vet customers! Tech! Vet! OMG! I have no injuries, Mama!
Sigh.
Double lovely.
After a lot of trial and tribulation (and a treat, begged for very obnoxiously), Mav seemed much better. I mean, of course she did. She was using all her legs. Which was an improvement from an hour earlier.
I am pretty sure the vet and his 2 techs have diagnosed me as insane. Probably a couple years ago.
Anyway, the vet said Mav's lame on one back leg and that she responded to both front legs equally. "Responded" is the word of the day in case you were wondering. If she was younger, he said he would worry about a certain bone disease and do some films. If her injury appeared to be limited very specifically to one leg (as it had in the hours before going to the damn vet), then he'd want to do films then, too.
Since she was her normal hobbly self and not an extra-special hobbly self, I get to watch her for the next 24-48 hours and see what happens. If one leg persists, then we get to sedate the crap out of her and x-ray her. Fun. For everyone.
Truth be told, there was also a point today where I thought little Hermes the cat had hurt herself. She seemed to be limping in the kitchen.
She wasn't. She had gotten a claw stuck in the new kitchen rug.
I unattached her from the rug, gave her a quick pet.
She immediately kneaded and got her paw stuck on the same rug again.
Mmmmmm-hmmmmm. Today I am just on fire, I am on such a hot streak.
Mav got so excited for the vet that she forgot she was in pain.
Because there is a car ride involved!
And people!
And the tech she loves!
And the vet she likes pretty well!
Except when he's trying to do stuff to her like take blood or perform range of motion on her limbs! Then she gets all offended!
But not offended enough to stop wagging!
Car! Other vet customers! Tech! Vet! OMG! I have no injuries, Mama!
Sigh.
Double lovely.
After a lot of trial and tribulation (and a treat, begged for very obnoxiously), Mav seemed much better. I mean, of course she did. She was using all her legs. Which was an improvement from an hour earlier.
I am pretty sure the vet and his 2 techs have diagnosed me as insane. Probably a couple years ago.
Anyway, the vet said Mav's lame on one back leg and that she responded to both front legs equally. "Responded" is the word of the day in case you were wondering. If she was younger, he said he would worry about a certain bone disease and do some films. If her injury appeared to be limited very specifically to one leg (as it had in the hours before going to the damn vet), then he'd want to do films then, too.
Since she was her normal hobbly self and not an extra-special hobbly self, I get to watch her for the next 24-48 hours and see what happens. If one leg persists, then we get to sedate the crap out of her and x-ray her. Fun. For everyone.
Truth be told, there was also a point today where I thought little Hermes the cat had hurt herself. She seemed to be limping in the kitchen.
She wasn't. She had gotten a claw stuck in the new kitchen rug.
I unattached her from the rug, gave her a quick pet.
She immediately kneaded and got her paw stuck on the same rug again.
Mmmmmm-hmmmmm. Today I am just on fire, I am on such a hot streak.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
