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.
Showing posts with label Mav. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mav. Show all posts
Friday, December 14, 2012
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!
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. :)
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.
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.
Missing Those Termite Days
It's odd how you can look back on something that, at the time, felt crappy, but in retrospect, it wasn't anything.
I complained about May a lot this year. Turns out, I should have been appreciating May.
Termites? Yes, please. I'll take the termites. In swarms.
Because in May, Maverick did okay. She had her usual ups and downs, but it wasn't until Memorial Day that things starting going downhill fast.
It's been two steps forward, one step back since then. Almost a month ago. It's been a month since the hubby and I were able to leave the house together.
A month since I didn't have to hand feed her every meal.
A month since we were comfortable with her being in a room without us for a few moments.
A month since I could do things, even little things, without worrying about her not being in my sightline. Showering, grabbing something from downstairs, getting the mail... It's all become somewhat of a challenge.
I find ways to keep her close as I do things I used to not think twice about doing. Leave the bathroom door open so I can see her on her dog bed in the office from the shower. Talk to her and keep her at the top of the stairs as I put the laundry over in the basement. Leave the front door open as I get the mail, letting our a/c cool the subdivision as she watches me attentively.
She's been doing better. Able to eat. Able to keep her many pills down. Interested in her toys, in us, in being with us.
Yesterday was the best day yet. A cautious sigh of relief. A day of some normality.
Then came this morning.
She was a little lame. Not uncommon. I did not panic. She has severe arthritis in her hips. A daily pain pill. I thought maybe she just needed to just get going in the day. Stretch herself out. I called the vet and, since I was going in for more of her Special Food Extreme Edition (now she's eating dry only! I'll take success anywhere I can find it!), went ahead and made an appointment. The earliest he had was mid-afternoon.
I figured he could take a look at her, ease my mind a bit. As he always does.
The day has gone on. And on. Her limp has become more pronounced and has centered itself not, as when I first thought, in her back legs and hip area. It's her front legs. As the minutes tick by until our appointment...
I find myself watching her continuing to bark and run as the UPS man comes to the door (with a jacket going straight back in the mail to be returned).
I watch her as she wags at me when I talk to her, anxious for her next meal.
As she comes up more and more lame with every movement until she can barely walk.
She has not cried. Not once. As she pulls up, lending zero weight to one leg, I can see the pain in her face. I think she doesn't cry solely for me. She's trying to keep me from losing it.
I push myself to forget about the bowling ball in my stomach. That pure, unadulterated panic. That helplessness from being unable to fix it. To make it better. To make it stop. To give her herself back.
I shove it all down. Try to find that part of me, that auto-pilot Happy Wife that takes a horrible situation and doesn't think about it at all. She just acts and reacts and takes over. Completely. Responsibly. Competently. She is a bulldozer. She can do this better than I can.
I have trouble finding her and holding onto her, this other me. I try not to think about physically getting to the vet. How a car ride will feel for Mav. For the first time, I plan on pulling up to the office and bringing her into one of the 2 techs to hold as I park the car. Because I can't chance her in the parking lot. I will limit her every step.
My husband is at work, where he should be. I called to tell him that when he can come home, he should. A reasonable hour, please. If it isn't necessary and deadlined, if the whole team isn't there with him, bring it to work on at home or do it tomorrow during work hours or later in the week. After I hang up, I force myself to stop thinking about what if she can't get in or out of the car without an extra set of hands.
I do not doubt my ability to lift the hundred pounds of her. This helps.
I feel like I am watching her fall apart in slow motion.
She's been just sick enough this month. Almost too sick but never quite there. Colitis. A parasite. Any dog can have these. Her new illnesses, causing concern but not meant to cause much more.
She has been the queen of treatable conditions. Thyroid pill twice a day for how many years now?
Things like epilepsy, more difficult for me to watch then for her to experience, so I've heard. Never frequent enough to warrant medication intervention.
Now these small breaks, these little cracks, all adding up to what?
Is this God preparing me to let her go? So very slowly?
Will I be punished until I reach a point where I beg for her comfort over my own?
Is this because we lost our other dog so suddenly, her death so much a surprise that it incapacitated me for months? Is this the flip side of that coin? I thought the flip side would be cancer, would be something inoperable, something big. Something specific, something clear.
Something unmistakable.
I don't know how so many people just walk around. How do you have a sick kid at home, with the flu? With something more? My mind doesn't reach around that at all. I have a dog. It's not apples and oranges. It's apples and helicopters.
How do we lose the people, places, familiars in our lives and just go on? Go to the grocery. Watch a movie. Sweep the floor. It's mind-boggling to me. Our capacities to handle what is given. To watch. To continue.
It seems to be that I need to suck more joy out of the joyous. So that I can stumble through the rest. Until my auto-pilot comes back on. I am eating fruit roll ups for lunch and scouring the internet for the least productive things possible. I am listening to one of the cat's purr as if it is the most important thing I have ever heard. I am folding my arms around myself until I feel so warm that it is too much.
I am watching Maverick breathe. In and out. In and out. In and out.
I complained about May a lot this year. Turns out, I should have been appreciating May.
Termites? Yes, please. I'll take the termites. In swarms.
Because in May, Maverick did okay. She had her usual ups and downs, but it wasn't until Memorial Day that things starting going downhill fast.
It's been two steps forward, one step back since then. Almost a month ago. It's been a month since the hubby and I were able to leave the house together.
A month since I didn't have to hand feed her every meal.
A month since we were comfortable with her being in a room without us for a few moments.
A month since I could do things, even little things, without worrying about her not being in my sightline. Showering, grabbing something from downstairs, getting the mail... It's all become somewhat of a challenge.
I find ways to keep her close as I do things I used to not think twice about doing. Leave the bathroom door open so I can see her on her dog bed in the office from the shower. Talk to her and keep her at the top of the stairs as I put the laundry over in the basement. Leave the front door open as I get the mail, letting our a/c cool the subdivision as she watches me attentively.
She's been doing better. Able to eat. Able to keep her many pills down. Interested in her toys, in us, in being with us.
Yesterday was the best day yet. A cautious sigh of relief. A day of some normality.
Then came this morning.
She was a little lame. Not uncommon. I did not panic. She has severe arthritis in her hips. A daily pain pill. I thought maybe she just needed to just get going in the day. Stretch herself out. I called the vet and, since I was going in for more of her Special Food Extreme Edition (now she's eating dry only! I'll take success anywhere I can find it!), went ahead and made an appointment. The earliest he had was mid-afternoon.
I figured he could take a look at her, ease my mind a bit. As he always does.
The day has gone on. And on. Her limp has become more pronounced and has centered itself not, as when I first thought, in her back legs and hip area. It's her front legs. As the minutes tick by until our appointment...
I find myself watching her continuing to bark and run as the UPS man comes to the door (with a jacket going straight back in the mail to be returned).
I watch her as she wags at me when I talk to her, anxious for her next meal.
As she comes up more and more lame with every movement until she can barely walk.
She has not cried. Not once. As she pulls up, lending zero weight to one leg, I can see the pain in her face. I think she doesn't cry solely for me. She's trying to keep me from losing it.
I push myself to forget about the bowling ball in my stomach. That pure, unadulterated panic. That helplessness from being unable to fix it. To make it better. To make it stop. To give her herself back.
I shove it all down. Try to find that part of me, that auto-pilot Happy Wife that takes a horrible situation and doesn't think about it at all. She just acts and reacts and takes over. Completely. Responsibly. Competently. She is a bulldozer. She can do this better than I can.
I have trouble finding her and holding onto her, this other me. I try not to think about physically getting to the vet. How a car ride will feel for Mav. For the first time, I plan on pulling up to the office and bringing her into one of the 2 techs to hold as I park the car. Because I can't chance her in the parking lot. I will limit her every step.
My husband is at work, where he should be. I called to tell him that when he can come home, he should. A reasonable hour, please. If it isn't necessary and deadlined, if the whole team isn't there with him, bring it to work on at home or do it tomorrow during work hours or later in the week. After I hang up, I force myself to stop thinking about what if she can't get in or out of the car without an extra set of hands.
I do not doubt my ability to lift the hundred pounds of her. This helps.
I feel like I am watching her fall apart in slow motion.
She's been just sick enough this month. Almost too sick but never quite there. Colitis. A parasite. Any dog can have these. Her new illnesses, causing concern but not meant to cause much more.
She has been the queen of treatable conditions. Thyroid pill twice a day for how many years now?
Things like epilepsy, more difficult for me to watch then for her to experience, so I've heard. Never frequent enough to warrant medication intervention.
Now these small breaks, these little cracks, all adding up to what?
Is this God preparing me to let her go? So very slowly?
Will I be punished until I reach a point where I beg for her comfort over my own?
Is this because we lost our other dog so suddenly, her death so much a surprise that it incapacitated me for months? Is this the flip side of that coin? I thought the flip side would be cancer, would be something inoperable, something big. Something specific, something clear.
Something unmistakable.
I don't know how so many people just walk around. How do you have a sick kid at home, with the flu? With something more? My mind doesn't reach around that at all. I have a dog. It's not apples and oranges. It's apples and helicopters.
How do we lose the people, places, familiars in our lives and just go on? Go to the grocery. Watch a movie. Sweep the floor. It's mind-boggling to me. Our capacities to handle what is given. To watch. To continue.
It seems to be that I need to suck more joy out of the joyous. So that I can stumble through the rest. Until my auto-pilot comes back on. I am eating fruit roll ups for lunch and scouring the internet for the least productive things possible. I am listening to one of the cat's purr as if it is the most important thing I have ever heard. I am folding my arms around myself until I feel so warm that it is too much.
I am watching Maverick breathe. In and out. In and out. In and out.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
More Posing Questions - What Did Happy Wife Buy On The Internet This Week?
Mav the dog is still bringing it big time. Just when I think for a few sweet, beautiful hours that she's feeling better, she kicks it up a notch. Her new thing is to seize and massively throw up at the same time. Usually in bursts of 3 over a 15 minute period.
My response is about as awesome as her actual illness. I say-scream, "You're okay! I got you! Snap out of it! You're fine! Quit it! SNAP OUT OF IT!" all while vigorously holding her and petting her. Because what she needs is redirection! HA!
Fun thought: I am so glad that I am not working right now. What if my dog nursing skills crossed over into my people nursing skills?
In a crisis, I would just grab the patient and scream, "SNAP OUT OF IT! IT'S OKAY! QUIT! QUIT! I GOT YOU! YOU'RE FINE!"
I find this thought way too hilarious. Probably because it's so true. At this point, I'm so tired and stressed out that I could actually see myself doing this to a poor, unsuspecting sick person.
Double bonus fun thought: My nursing mostly centered on hospice-type care.
So I could apply my new technique to patients and to family members!
Sigh. I am going to hell.
Since there is little dating happening, here is the next posed question and a photo story from yesterday.
Happy Wife has been stress-internet-shopping way too much. Boxes started coming yesterday. I opened the first, then left the room for 2 seconds.
B) Joan Rivers (LOVE YOU, JOAN!) jewelry that she did not need
C) A toaster that she sort of needed
D) A kitty tree, an always needed and welcome addition
E) Shoes that she did not need
F) A book (to go with the 10 already on the shelf, waiting to be read)
G) Summer dresses that she did not need
Did you guess all of the above? And then probably some kitty toys, too? Good job.
The rug is in the photo with Mav and Isley.
I still giggle at this shirt and I'm wearing it.
Lastly, all dolled up with nowhere to go.
My response is about as awesome as her actual illness. I say-scream, "You're okay! I got you! Snap out of it! You're fine! Quit it! SNAP OUT OF IT!" all while vigorously holding her and petting her. Because what she needs is redirection! HA!
Fun thought: I am so glad that I am not working right now. What if my dog nursing skills crossed over into my people nursing skills?
In a crisis, I would just grab the patient and scream, "SNAP OUT OF IT! IT'S OKAY! QUIT! QUIT! I GOT YOU! YOU'RE FINE!"
I find this thought way too hilarious. Probably because it's so true. At this point, I'm so tired and stressed out that I could actually see myself doing this to a poor, unsuspecting sick person.
Double bonus fun thought: My nursing mostly centered on hospice-type care.
So I could apply my new technique to patients and to family members!
Sigh. I am going to hell.
Since there is little dating happening, here is the next posed question and a photo story from yesterday.
Happy Wife has been stress-internet-shopping way too much. Boxes started coming yesterday. I opened the first, then left the room for 2 seconds.
I get back into the kitchen and see immediately what has happened.
Mary Lou wasted no time before getting in the box.
Notice what is right outside of the box.
Yes, those are kitty beds.
Mary Lou: like a boss!
Mav could care less.
Someone's in a box?
Whatever.
I feel like crap.
Mary Lou vacates the box.
Almost instantaneously...
Isley gets into the box.
Mav is a little more interested in all the activity.
So, what did Happy Wife buy during clickety-clickety-preventing-my-ulcer-for-another-day online shopping?
A) A rug that she needed
B) Joan Rivers (LOVE YOU, JOAN!) jewelry that she did not need
C) A toaster that she sort of needed
D) A kitty tree, an always needed and welcome addition
E) Shoes that she did not need
F) A book (to go with the 10 already on the shelf, waiting to be read)
G) Summer dresses that she did not need
Did you guess all of the above? And then probably some kitty toys, too? Good job.
The rug is in the photo with Mav and Isley.
Sparkles! Crazy, crazy sparkles!
Sparkles times two!
Old lady jewelry, yes please.
The photos don't do them justice here.
The black liquid-y metal and
deep blue iridescent beads
on this second necklace are divine!
Yes, I store my necklaces with tops/jackets all together in the closet
just like in the photo. I like how easy it is to grab a top
with a jacket and necklace already good to go.
*Points to head*
It's not all cobwebs and tumbleweeds up here.
Another kitty tree.
Now we have 2 of this design.
On sale, 30 bucks, free shipping from Petco.
Couldn't pass it up!
Shoe heaven.
Ask not what these shoes match...
Ask only what don't they match?
They match ALL THINGS! ALL THINGS!
Okay, okay.
Maybe not my Grover/Old Spice parody
tee shirt that I'm wearing today.
tee shirt that I'm wearing today.
I still giggle at this shirt and I'm wearing it.
*Sticks tongue out at you*
Pandora says, "I've already heard that one, Rachel."
Lastly, all dolled up with nowhere to go.
The socially acceptable nightgown explosion!
Whoopee!
If you learn one thing from this post,
it should be that Happy Wife
has way too much time on her hands.
Here's hoping Mav feels better soon!
So the shopping can stop and the dating can commence!
Crap. The toaster, another cat tree, and some giant rugs
just showed up at the door.
I know you dig the wolf snowglobe from my folks
on the shelf just above my gram's little ceramic deer
in the background there.
Nature!
*Jazz hands*
The toaster matches our little pot perfectly! Bonus!
And the rugs act as a burglar barrier in the basement.
Or a husband barrier.
He's gonna have to come in the front door tonight.
Hey, look! I spy some Snapple!
When did I get that? Nice! Yum!
...
I think I'm going to go freeze my credit cards in blocks of ice now.
Crap. The toaster, another cat tree, and some giant rugs
just showed up at the door.
I know you dig the wolf snowglobe from my folks
on the shelf just above my gram's little ceramic deer
in the background there.
Nature!
*Jazz hands*
The toaster matches our little pot perfectly! Bonus!
And the rugs act as a burglar barrier in the basement.
Or a husband barrier.
He's gonna have to come in the front door tonight.
Hey, look! I spy some Snapple!
When did I get that? Nice! Yum!
...
I think I'm going to go freeze my credit cards in blocks of ice now.
Monday, June 11, 2012
New Month, New Problems
Dastardly May has come and gone. Termites have been treated and should be suffering (if they aren't dead by now). Had a doctor's appointment with a less then stellar test result, but since it came with a "I'm sure it's fine! Let's talk again in a year!" response from the doctor, I'm pretending it's all cool. She didn't even call with the results. She wrote me a very ridiculous letter, which was essentially like you have these abnormal cells you've never had before, but they're probably cool. Or they're cancer. Or they might become cancer. Tomorrow. Or next month. Or next year. Or ten years from now. OR NEVER.
It was so dumb that it was kind of great. I told the hubby that it is going to be fun to explain in every future doctor's appointment that I had these weird results when they go over my history. I'm not looking forward to that. The letter was so long and convoluted that I'm just going to carry it with my insurance card. The hubby, ever helpful, just said, "It's going to be really fun when you get to explain it every year to the doctor who wrote the letter."
We both had a good laugh at that because it's so damn true.
The A/C is working. Cars are starting. Washing machine is still washing. The oven is another matter but let's not talk about that. I'll repeat: I'm glad to have May in the rear view.
June, though, not really living up to its possibilities. There haven't been any outings on our part. No big dates. We can't even make it to the movies where we have a list of stuff we'd like to see. I need to know if they say "You sunk my battleship!" in Battleship.
The hubby had a couple days off for Memorial Day, which made us all hopeful and stupid. We're going to Cold Stones! We're going to The Dog Museum! We're going to be the last people in America to see The Avengers! Woooooo! Happy Wife is going to shower and put on "outside of the house" clothes every day! WOOOOOOO!
Of course, Mav decided to spoil all those plans in her usual spectacular fashion. During my vet's one week off for vacation. For no known reason, she got what 3 substitute vets think was colitis, and it's been a literal sh*tstorm. Heh.
Sorry.
Anywho, she's had a tough go of it since then. When our normal vet got back, he called about 6 minutes after his day started to check on us. I cannot imagine how high my stress level would be without our vet. Mav's been getting better and starts back on her regular food today. She has only very recently started eating her normal amount of food. This is since Memorial Day, and she's almost 100 lbs now, so she's no delicate flower when it comes to how much food she should be eating. At one point, over a 5 day period, she'd only eaten like one and a half cups of food total. In comparison, she should have 6-8 cups of food per day. Yeah.
We can tell she still feels pretty crappy. It's been a long couple weeks. At one point, I slept on the floor of the office next to her in her dog bed because that was the only place she found any comfort.
Fun side note: sleeping on the floor now is a lot different than it was in high school and college, when I was all "It's good for my back!" during the Academic Decathlon state finals in some semi-nice hotel room or at friends' houses back when I had friends that weren't my husband. Back then, a night on the floor was nothing. Now? I need 3 Aleve just to get up and down the stairs the next morning. Next time, I'm going to grab a second dog bed and sleep on that and try not to think about the level of white trash that might make me.
Never one to miss a beat, Mav did gather up some knowledge during her troubles. What my dog learned was how to spit out pills and that pill pockets have been a trick all along. Which is not good for a dog who is on 2 arthritis pills, a thyroid pill and an allergy pill twice a day, all when she's feeling good. Add a bunch of additional pills to those when she's feeling bad.
Once my parents left out Decon (rat poison) when we visited, and she got into that, and the emergency vet there said that they'd never seen a dog actually chow down activated charcoal. You used to be able to point at really anything and say a couple magic words and Mav would go ahead and eat it just in case. She hasn't been one to eat non-edible stuff on her own, not that we leave much to chance in our house anyway, but unless it's unwatched people food (a Happy Wife household no-no), she's pretty good. She's an eater. She gets that from me, for sure. It used to be if she ever got into her own bag of food, no doubt she would just eat until it was gone. Now, she's totally the opposite. Anyone who has had a dog that is food motivated who suddenly has no interest in food knows that it is a horrible thing to witness. You just get this bowling ball of dread in your stomach.
And we saw no signs she got into a damn thing. We hadn't gone anywhere or done anything exciting. We'll probably never know why or how she got so sick this time. Lord.
So, when the hubby and I have had time together, we've just spent it with her. Lots of soccer on the television and before that, we finished Friday Night Lights and started MI-5 on the Instant Netflix. The rest of the time, the hubby is working. Then I'm just sort of sitting over her like some kind of high school stalker. As long as I'm in a position to see her in the room we're in, we're okay. I have to be able to see her. Because there is no warning if she's gonna puke or have a seizure, not even to her. Which is really sad. I can't imagine not knowing something like that is coming and then boom. It comes on so quickly that she doesn't even have time to get up if she's sleeping or curled up resting. Her seizures are literally seconds long now and are completely different than they used to be. We never know when she starts acting off whether she's just having a senior moment, a seizure, or just crazy dog time. We can redirect her back to us pretty quickly, but it's still scary to watch.
At one point I went from praying "Help Mav, stop her hurting, bring her comfort, make her feel better" to "Just get me through this" and I knew when that happened that we were in for it. I'll never be ready for her to go, but the possibility is always there. Hopefully we're turning a corner and are on the road to recovery for a while longer. Either way, we're still just going to be focused on taking care of her and little else.
I try to appreciate spending all the time with her that I can, and it's more of a blessing than a curse. So the hubby and I didn't get to go out. We still are spending the evenings together and most of the weekend when he doesn't have to work. We can still do little things. The times this past week when I've got no sleep with Mav, the hubby went out and picked up supper. Lately, since sleep hasn't been such a stranger, I've been making nicer-than-sandwiches dinners for us. Last night, I made him lamb chops, filling the house up with smoke (they aren't good unless the smoke alarm goes off!), and fresh salad. It was really nice. Tonight, fresh corn on the cob and steaks marinated in a tasty A1, Italian dressing, honey, and red pepper concoction.
I'm oddly grateful for everything right now. Sure, Mav doesn't feel great, but she's better and she's still here. I have the time and ability to be with her. We have a home, so many life things that we're fortunate to have that make everything easier (hi again, washing machine). The hubby's still working away at a job he likes. The people we care about are happy and healthy and even though some are many miles away, they're still with us. The people we've lost have been gone so long the wounds aren't fresh and we're able to live with it more easily. Things other people are dealing with right now in their lives, the economy, family problems, sickness, death, all kinds of shattering things are happening out there. I know enough to know that we're not immune to that. It'll come and it'll be awful, but right now, we're okay. We're incredibly lucky. I don't have a damn thing to complain about.
I guess the trick is to, no matter how crappy things get or how complicated or how busy, we fit in some little things to make it better. Just about anything can overwhelm me if I let it. I think we're in the bones of the marriage part of our marriage right now, and it's still a great place to be. We have a good foundation, which makes everything so much easier when life from the outside is shaky. When I'm focused on Mav and not on much else. We'll get back to all the extra stuff like dating later. I still have goals. Like to not have a pair of shoes in my closet that I haven't worn. And to make it through the day without eating a fruit roll-up (damn you, Sam's Club!). All in good time, Happy Wife. All in good time.
It was so dumb that it was kind of great. I told the hubby that it is going to be fun to explain in every future doctor's appointment that I had these weird results when they go over my history. I'm not looking forward to that. The letter was so long and convoluted that I'm just going to carry it with my insurance card. The hubby, ever helpful, just said, "It's going to be really fun when you get to explain it every year to the doctor who wrote the letter."
We both had a good laugh at that because it's so damn true.
The A/C is working. Cars are starting. Washing machine is still washing. The oven is another matter but let's not talk about that. I'll repeat: I'm glad to have May in the rear view.
June, though, not really living up to its possibilities. There haven't been any outings on our part. No big dates. We can't even make it to the movies where we have a list of stuff we'd like to see. I need to know if they say "You sunk my battleship!" in Battleship.
The hubby had a couple days off for Memorial Day, which made us all hopeful and stupid. We're going to Cold Stones! We're going to The Dog Museum! We're going to be the last people in America to see The Avengers! Woooooo! Happy Wife is going to shower and put on "outside of the house" clothes every day! WOOOOOOO!
Of course, Mav decided to spoil all those plans in her usual spectacular fashion. During my vet's one week off for vacation. For no known reason, she got what 3 substitute vets think was colitis, and it's been a literal sh*tstorm. Heh.
Sorry.
Anywho, she's had a tough go of it since then. When our normal vet got back, he called about 6 minutes after his day started to check on us. I cannot imagine how high my stress level would be without our vet. Mav's been getting better and starts back on her regular food today. She has only very recently started eating her normal amount of food. This is since Memorial Day, and she's almost 100 lbs now, so she's no delicate flower when it comes to how much food she should be eating. At one point, over a 5 day period, she'd only eaten like one and a half cups of food total. In comparison, she should have 6-8 cups of food per day. Yeah.
We can tell she still feels pretty crappy. It's been a long couple weeks. At one point, I slept on the floor of the office next to her in her dog bed because that was the only place she found any comfort.
Fun side note: sleeping on the floor now is a lot different than it was in high school and college, when I was all "It's good for my back!" during the Academic Decathlon state finals in some semi-nice hotel room or at friends' houses back when I had friends that weren't my husband. Back then, a night on the floor was nothing. Now? I need 3 Aleve just to get up and down the stairs the next morning. Next time, I'm going to grab a second dog bed and sleep on that and try not to think about the level of white trash that might make me.
Never one to miss a beat, Mav did gather up some knowledge during her troubles. What my dog learned was how to spit out pills and that pill pockets have been a trick all along. Which is not good for a dog who is on 2 arthritis pills, a thyroid pill and an allergy pill twice a day, all when she's feeling good. Add a bunch of additional pills to those when she's feeling bad.
This is my dog, who once ate an entire bunch of bananas, peels and all. Happily and as if she'd never eaten before. One time while we were at a movie, she managed to eat an entire UNOPENED SAM'S CLUB box of these granola bars with ZERO effects on her digestive system. We came home to a house full of wrappers. It was amazing.
Mav says, "Mmmmm, crunchy!"
Once my parents left out Decon (rat poison) when we visited, and she got into that, and the emergency vet there said that they'd never seen a dog actually chow down activated charcoal. You used to be able to point at really anything and say a couple magic words and Mav would go ahead and eat it just in case. She hasn't been one to eat non-edible stuff on her own, not that we leave much to chance in our house anyway, but unless it's unwatched people food (a Happy Wife household no-no), she's pretty good. She's an eater. She gets that from me, for sure. It used to be if she ever got into her own bag of food, no doubt she would just eat until it was gone. Now, she's totally the opposite. Anyone who has had a dog that is food motivated who suddenly has no interest in food knows that it is a horrible thing to witness. You just get this bowling ball of dread in your stomach.
And we saw no signs she got into a damn thing. We hadn't gone anywhere or done anything exciting. We'll probably never know why or how she got so sick this time. Lord.
So, when the hubby and I have had time together, we've just spent it with her. Lots of soccer on the television and before that, we finished Friday Night Lights and started MI-5 on the Instant Netflix. The rest of the time, the hubby is working. Then I'm just sort of sitting over her like some kind of high school stalker. As long as I'm in a position to see her in the room we're in, we're okay. I have to be able to see her. Because there is no warning if she's gonna puke or have a seizure, not even to her. Which is really sad. I can't imagine not knowing something like that is coming and then boom. It comes on so quickly that she doesn't even have time to get up if she's sleeping or curled up resting. Her seizures are literally seconds long now and are completely different than they used to be. We never know when she starts acting off whether she's just having a senior moment, a seizure, or just crazy dog time. We can redirect her back to us pretty quickly, but it's still scary to watch.
At one point I went from praying "Help Mav, stop her hurting, bring her comfort, make her feel better" to "Just get me through this" and I knew when that happened that we were in for it. I'll never be ready for her to go, but the possibility is always there. Hopefully we're turning a corner and are on the road to recovery for a while longer. Either way, we're still just going to be focused on taking care of her and little else.
I try to appreciate spending all the time with her that I can, and it's more of a blessing than a curse. So the hubby and I didn't get to go out. We still are spending the evenings together and most of the weekend when he doesn't have to work. We can still do little things. The times this past week when I've got no sleep with Mav, the hubby went out and picked up supper. Lately, since sleep hasn't been such a stranger, I've been making nicer-than-sandwiches dinners for us. Last night, I made him lamb chops, filling the house up with smoke (they aren't good unless the smoke alarm goes off!), and fresh salad. It was really nice. Tonight, fresh corn on the cob and steaks marinated in a tasty A1, Italian dressing, honey, and red pepper concoction.
I'm oddly grateful for everything right now. Sure, Mav doesn't feel great, but she's better and she's still here. I have the time and ability to be with her. We have a home, so many life things that we're fortunate to have that make everything easier (hi again, washing machine). The hubby's still working away at a job he likes. The people we care about are happy and healthy and even though some are many miles away, they're still with us. The people we've lost have been gone so long the wounds aren't fresh and we're able to live with it more easily. Things other people are dealing with right now in their lives, the economy, family problems, sickness, death, all kinds of shattering things are happening out there. I know enough to know that we're not immune to that. It'll come and it'll be awful, but right now, we're okay. We're incredibly lucky. I don't have a damn thing to complain about.
I guess the trick is to, no matter how crappy things get or how complicated or how busy, we fit in some little things to make it better. Just about anything can overwhelm me if I let it. I think we're in the bones of the marriage part of our marriage right now, and it's still a great place to be. We have a good foundation, which makes everything so much easier when life from the outside is shaky. When I'm focused on Mav and not on much else. We'll get back to all the extra stuff like dating later. I still have goals. Like to not have a pair of shoes in my closet that I haven't worn. And to make it through the day without eating a fruit roll-up (damn you, Sam's Club!). All in good time, Happy Wife. All in good time.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
The Bright Side: Most Of The House Doesn't Have Termites!
Been sort of a weird couple days. I am finding the bright side for once. Maybe that's just because since May 1st, I've been all, "This is NOT my month! AHHHHHH!"
At some point, I just have to throw my hands up and accept whatever is coming my way. Think I'm there. And it's only May 8th, so good timing. I have a while left of this disastrous month.
So, we have termites.
Of course. I mean, why wouldn't we? It would be crazy for us to not have termites. Duh. Bad things that you don't think will happen to you have to happen to someone. OF COURSE IT'LL BE US. The real question is how do we not have bears. Or cancer. Or a rare form of bear cancer never before seen in humans.
Don't worry. We won't die from it. A tsunami will get us before that. Here, in St. Louis. Probably on a lovely sunny day. Tsunami's like to sneak up on ya. A blessing, putting us out of our bear cancer misery. See! Bright side! I can find it!
The termite guys are here. Only two and a half hours later than they said they would be here!
But they are here! Bright side!
And they were really nice. Excellent English. Blinding bright side!
And I know they're working. Because the whole state can hear the noise of their termite killing drilling machines. Ka-pow! Gotta wear shades, it's so bright!
We caught the termites in the front of the house, in 2 of the 5 posts. You know, the ones holding up our roof. You can see them in a photo I just posted when I took pictures of the doves on the front eave.
At some point, I just have to throw my hands up and accept whatever is coming my way. Think I'm there. And it's only May 8th, so good timing. I have a while left of this disastrous month.
So, we have termites.
Of course. I mean, why wouldn't we? It would be crazy for us to not have termites. Duh. Bad things that you don't think will happen to you have to happen to someone. OF COURSE IT'LL BE US. The real question is how do we not have bears. Or cancer. Or a rare form of bear cancer never before seen in humans.
Don't worry. We won't die from it. A tsunami will get us before that. Here, in St. Louis. Probably on a lovely sunny day. Tsunami's like to sneak up on ya. A blessing, putting us out of our bear cancer misery. See! Bright side! I can find it!
The termite guys are here. Only two and a half hours later than they said they would be here!
But they are here! Bright side!
And they were really nice. Excellent English. Blinding bright side!
And I know they're working. Because the whole state can hear the noise of their termite killing drilling machines. Ka-pow! Gotta wear shades, it's so bright!
We caught the termites in the front of the house, in 2 of the 5 posts. You know, the ones holding up our roof. You can see them in a photo I just posted when I took pictures of the doves on the front eave.
Update: The doves pushed over their nest.
So no more adultish-baby doves.
Hope they just flew off to live somewhere else.
Mom and Dad are still here rebuilding
and driving the cats insane.
The termites haven't reached the actual house yet, so we caught them early. Which is good. Bright side!
Now we're going to kill them, which is ridiculously expensive.
Um... I really like my necklace. And my cute little cami/floral blouse/short sleeved sweater outfit. Feelin' good! Bright side!
When I say "we" are killing the termites, obviously by "we" I mean other, professional termite people. I am inside the house on the computer trying to talk myself down from the ledge of an overstuffed online Kohls cart overseeing everything.
The small damage the termites have done so far is mostly aesthetic, so, in other words, Happy Wife doesn't care. So, bright side? Sure.
Says the lady who planned on replacing the dead shrubs in the front. Who cleaned out the soil beds and trimmed back all the other shrubs only to decide to "do it next year" because she got too tired after those tasks and the couple prime planting weekends came and went. And bonus, we saved money I would have spent on a million cubic feet of dirt and a bunch of new shrubbery.
Shrubbery is a fun word. Bright side!
I have a large tree limb down in the backyard from however long ago that's been on my to-do list for a while. I will have to move it to mow. Whenever that happens. It's been raining. Stop judging me.
The bright side?
This view from the kitchen window gets less frustrating
as the grass has grown to hide most of the limb.
Killing 2 birds with one ballet lesson.
Because avoiding it and watching it become less pronounced
still means I need to move the limb AND mow.
It's better if I don't even put "make the ugly posts look prettier" on the to-list. That was on the list before termites. A task that essentially has meant "replace those posts" and has been on the "things to fix in the house" since we moved in here.
My point is with the termite damage so far, we don't need to replace anything or worry about structural issues. Bright side.
Hopefully, in 3 hours, the termite treatment will be done. Then I can run to the vet and pick up Mav's medicine. Her medication blood levels were bad, which was "good news" (I am quoting the vet there) since maybe giving her a different dosage will make her feel better.
Bright side:
Mav's alive!
And even my house shoes
are a-dor-able.
(Brought to you by A Bonus Bright Side!)
Sigh.
Is it June yet?
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Bonus Post - Hubby's Christmas Present Reaction Photos
Since I recently posted about the hubby's birthday, and all the photos of him opening presents are pretty similar, I figured it would be fun for me to post the Christmas-in-February-at-his-in-laws photos. Because they made me very happy. I didn't post about our February trip because I figured the family wouldn't want to be uploaded all over The Internets no matter how tempted I was to do it. Also, the one decent picture of me from our Xmas trip was the one where I was flicking the husband off but smiling very beautifully, which was both awesome and creepy but somehow R rated.
Ahem. Where was I?
Oh yeah. Let's do this.
My father is a Coca-cola guy. Husband, Pepsi. I know, I know, we're talking practically the Capulets and Montagues here. Somehow, my family has embraced this little nugget of war.
That might be because we are the same family that has given my mother every single item available anywhere ever that has a lighthouse on it, is in the shape of a lighthouse, or resembles a lighthouse in any way because once, she said she liked lighthouses. And then her husband, son, daughter, father, sister... Basically, we all took that and have run with it for, oh, thirty years or so.
Think of all the times you've been out and seen something with a lighthouse on it. Rug. Quilt. Candle. Painting. Sweatshirt. Toothbrush caddy. We have not only seen these things; we bought each and every one of them for my mother. Who now is sort of anti-lighthouse, shockingly.
Once, we even bought her a VERY LARGE carved statue of a lighthouse.
What was it carved out of, you ask?
Trust me, you asked.
Because it was CARVED ENTIRELY OUT OF PECANS.
Mmmm hmmmm. Bam! Nailed it! Gift perfection!
So, [new son-in-law that is hard to buy for] + [likes Pepsi] = [guess what you're getting for every holiday and birthday until we're all dead]. Who said I was bad at math! Heh!
It is also always a bonus gift because we're a Coke family. It's like we've double accepted him. Embracing the enemy that is Pepsi in a Coke household. That's love, People. Love that has started a Happy Wife household Pepsi collection. Current decorative and/or glass bottle total: 12. Tee shirt count: too many to bother actually counting. Boxers in commemorative Pepsi can: 1. That last one was me. We use the can on the desk in the office to hold pens and pencils. Boo-yah!
The most recent addition was at February Christmas.
After a lengthy description and still no memory of it, I let it go and didn't mention it again.
But, remember, say "lighthouse" once in my family...
Fast forward to February Christmas. Did my family get us another flashlight like the ones from the year before? Of course not.
Also, look behind him at how bored Mav is of the flashlights. The husband kept playing with them until we worried for our sight.
And yes, I got my mother that lighthouse candle holder in the background of that photo last year for Christmas. Heh. I didn't even notice that until just now. Sometimes when we visit, I accuse them of putting out all the stuff we've got them about an hour before we arrive. They deny it.
We had a great aunt or something who, when I was little, gave us this stuffed toy circus monkey that was old, crusty, and horrifying. And huge. I mean, he was human baby size. And, bonus, he looked like his diet consisted of human babies. After he murdered them. My mother put him out as our dining room table centerpiece about five minutes before my aunt's every visit and put him away out of eyesight before she even got out of the driveway on her way home. It wasn't like she put him on a low shelf or secondary room end table. Dining room table centerpiece. Man, that thing was some kind of awful. If there was ever an object that was evil, it was that monkey.
Anyway, a young kid sees that and it doesn't take much to put 2 and 2 together as an adult that when I walk around a house where all my gifts are prettily displayed and nothing else is out, well...
I am actually cool with it, if it happens or not. Either way, my crap is out because of love.
Speaking of love, other than my hubby, one of my favorite guys is my little bro. Who got my hubby a daily military fact calendar. Which, in this photo, looks like it is receiving a soulful, possibly sexy serenade from the hubby.
I also asked for a group photo but never managed to get a decent one. This is my husband's face in the one photo I managed to take with more than one person in it. Do you think he really nailed my "Smile!" cue?
Ahem. Where was I?
Oh yeah. Let's do this.
My father is a Coca-cola guy. Husband, Pepsi. I know, I know, we're talking practically the Capulets and Montagues here. Somehow, my family has embraced this little nugget of war.
That might be because we are the same family that has given my mother every single item available anywhere ever that has a lighthouse on it, is in the shape of a lighthouse, or resembles a lighthouse in any way because once, she said she liked lighthouses. And then her husband, son, daughter, father, sister... Basically, we all took that and have run with it for, oh, thirty years or so.
Think of all the times you've been out and seen something with a lighthouse on it. Rug. Quilt. Candle. Painting. Sweatshirt. Toothbrush caddy. We have not only seen these things; we bought each and every one of them for my mother. Who now is sort of anti-lighthouse, shockingly.
Once, we even bought her a VERY LARGE carved statue of a lighthouse.
What was it carved out of, you ask?
Trust me, you asked.
Because it was CARVED ENTIRELY OUT OF PECANS.
Mmmm hmmmm. Bam! Nailed it! Gift perfection!
So, [new son-in-law that is hard to buy for] + [likes Pepsi] = [guess what you're getting for every holiday and birthday until we're all dead]. Who said I was bad at math! Heh!
It is also always a bonus gift because we're a Coke family. It's like we've double accepted him. Embracing the enemy that is Pepsi in a Coke household. That's love, People. Love that has started a Happy Wife household Pepsi collection. Current decorative and/or glass bottle total: 12. Tee shirt count: too many to bother actually counting. Boxers in commemorative Pepsi can: 1. That last one was me. We use the can on the desk in the office to hold pens and pencils. Boo-yah!
The most recent addition was at February Christmas.
(February Christmas soon to be trademarked by Happy Wife.
Sure it will catch on. It's like Christmas
only without the festive holiday spirit!)
My husband is a sweetheart and listens to the
"where we found these old fashioned glass Pepsi bottles"
story with rapt attention and appropriate head nods.
Think I'm kidding? My Dad got up from his comfy chair
across the room to come over and share that story.
"Tell me again about this Rural King you speak of, Sir," said my
husband in his mind because my father has an impressive gun collection.
Mav's all, "Things!"
Then, it got fun.
"Thanks for the Pepsi bottle," said my husband.
"Keep looking in the box!" My father was adamant.
Heh heh.
"Oh, there is another bottle in here!"
My husband executed the perfect level of excitement.
Possible captions:
Check out the pair on that guy!
or
I wish my wife would stop taking my picture!
or
I'm doing the best I can here, Honey, and you're pushing it.
Family fun time is twice as fun when it is with your in-laws!
Right, Honey? Right!
Now you're just making fun of me, he said at this photo.
I'm making MEMORIES, HUSBAND!
And your mother tried to marry you to someone else,
SO DON'T EVEN START WITH ME BECAUSE
WE'RE GONNA TAKE MY FAMILY'S
OWN BRAND OF CRAZY AND RUN WITH IT.
Moving on...
In case the lighthouse story didn't clue you in, let me tell another tale. Last year, my parents got us 2 little flashlights. No batteries, fits in the palm of your hand, little button on an end. We ended up using them all the time. Weird little gift that ended up being great. So, when they asked if there was anything we could think of that we wanted for the holidays, I reminded them of the flashlights.
Which was fun since they did not remember giving them to us. Not. At. all. The conversation went like this:
"Are you sure we got those for you?"
"Yes, Mom."
"I don't think so, Honey."
"No, Mom, it was you. For sure."
"Are you sure?"
*Bangs head on desk*
"It wasn't us."
No! Ha! HA HA!
Don't be silly.
They got us 12.
6 red, 6 blue.
All individually wrapped.
All individually wrapped.
I repeated that on purpose because it bears repeating.
Individually.
Wrapped.
The hubby was in heaven.
"Look what I can do when I hold a bunch of them at once!"
Commence very, very bright light.
And yes, I got my mother that lighthouse candle holder in the background of that photo last year for Christmas. Heh. I didn't even notice that until just now. Sometimes when we visit, I accuse them of putting out all the stuff we've got them about an hour before we arrive. They deny it.
We had a great aunt or something who, when I was little, gave us this stuffed toy circus monkey that was old, crusty, and horrifying. And huge. I mean, he was human baby size. And, bonus, he looked like his diet consisted of human babies. After he murdered them. My mother put him out as our dining room table centerpiece about five minutes before my aunt's every visit and put him away out of eyesight before she even got out of the driveway on her way home. It wasn't like she put him on a low shelf or secondary room end table. Dining room table centerpiece. Man, that thing was some kind of awful. If there was ever an object that was evil, it was that monkey.
*Shudders*
*Belting*
When a man loves a woman-
Can't keep his mind on nothing else-
Except for military history and
historical facts no one else remembers and
possibly his latest game of pew pew pew
Battlefield Soldiers Wearing Halos In A Portal
or whatever it's called.
Save the princess!
I mean, it's all so fascinating-
*Thud*
Sorry, my narcolepsy is acting up again.
This photo proves it.
It being that nothing's more painful than love. Yes?
Well, except maybe exhaustion.
Although, Hulk Husband did come out for a second.
Take that, flimsy plastic!
Mav is obviously some kind of sidekick to Hulk Husband.
If a sidekick can simply be 100% annoying and unhelpful
with zero super powers.
Actually, Mav attempted to help a lot.
Here she is helping my mom.
"I smell your leg. It smells leggy. You're welcome."
Here she is helping my mom. Again.
Yum, tissue paper. Nom, nom, nom.
She was helping her so much that at one point, the hubby intervened.
In Mav's defense, it is difficult to keep a Weim in line
when anything is happening anywhere ever.
That box did at one time have Boy Scout popcorn in it,
so you can't blame her. Can't blame genius.
Or me, for, you know, helping the children.
Only if they sell food, though.
I only help through snacks.
It takes a village.
Come on, I'm no hero, though!
*Takes a bow*
Most of the photos of me from February Christmas are just like this.
Pretties.
Wait, do I have a bald spot?
My part sure seems to go way down the back of my head.
Ho ho ho, Merry February Christmas, World!
In April!
Please excuse me while I go call 800 numbers
that belong to companies that help you regrow your hair.
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