Back From The (Virtual) Dead

Hello? Anyone still here? Or is it just me and the spiderwebs?

It has been far too long since I posted here, and even farther back for anything of substance. I missed all of my blog friends, and realized that I could easily remedy that situation. I think I stopped blogging because it had become too much like tooting my own horn. That's a contradiction in terms, I know -- that's essentially what blogging IS, but suffice it to say that I was blogging just to hear myself talk, and what I was saying was boring the hell out of myself. So, I stopped.

But, even though I "see" a lot of you on Facebook, we aren't connecting like we used to. *That's* what I miss. I miss seeing your funny anecdotes about the kids; or the newest thing that's driving you bonkers.

You haven't missed much with me -- still here. Still trying to earn a living, and not to get arresting for trying to sell my teenaged daughter to the circus. Taking each day, moment by moment. How's by you?

Vitriol Derailed

I was all set to post a scathing diatribe about my City and their so-called "Water Services" Department after the past two weeks of dealing with a leak in my front yard, but after reading The Wednesday Whine where several members have recently either lost a loved one, or have an ill loved one (one who is pretty much terminal at only 9 years old), I've lost the will to spout off at the mouth about things that are petty in relation. A young man in my community also just died, and while I didn't know him, I see those around me who DID know him locked inside their own grief, and it struck me how fortunate I really am.

What I want to do today is celebrate all that I have. I have the very bad habit of praying only when I want something, or when I wish I'd made a better decision. I've spent the last few years trying to cultivate prayer for prayer's sake alone, and I often don't display that enough.

Dear God --

Thank you. Thank you for giving me life, and bringing me into this world. Even though I have faced hard times, you have blessed me in countless ways. I have my family, who are the joy (and sometimes bane) of my existence. My wonderful husband loves me, and much to my astonishment, still finds me attractive after almost 20 years together. He is supportive, hard-working, and my best friend. My daughter makes me laugh every day, even when she's infuriating me. She has brought joy and light to my life, and to that of all of our family members.

I have my health. When I broke my ankle, I became sorely aware at how much I depend upon my mobility, and how lost I was without it. I have eyes and ears that let me enjoy art and music, and hands that allow me to create and touch my loved ones. And, those loved ones are healthy -- surprisingly so, for such a large extended family. Death has touched us, but we have lived through grief, and it has brought us together. We are stronger as a unit than as disparate individuals.

I have a home. Not all people in our nation can claim that, sadly. There was even a time when *I* couldn't claim that. The hopelessness that comes with not even having a place to call your own is beyond imagining. That we are the most industrialized and wealthy nation on the planet, and not all of our own citizens can lay claim to a home is a travesty of the highest proportions. No, my home isn't perfect, but it's mine. I have the freedom to come and go, and a certain amount of security from the cares of the world once I enter its shelter. It keeps me warm and dry, and safe, and I am grateful for it.

I have a job, which again, many of my fellow countrymen do not. I make a decent living, one that allows me to not only pay the debts that I have incurred, but also allows me things that are not necessary in this life, but help fulfill pieces of me. I don't need an entire room of crafting material, but it's something that I enjoy, and I like to use what I know to make others happy. Likewise, my husband doesn't need all the electronics we have, but it makes him happy. My husband works very hard, and his salary keeps our family afloat. His toil feeds us. I am grateful that he has this job, which allows us to subsist and thrive.

I have friends and hobbies that occupy space in my heart. My friends are generous and give to me in their knowledge and their presence. They feed my soul. My hobbies also feed my soul. Girl Scouting is as much for my benefit as it is for the girls that I shepherd through the program. I learn from them all the time. They teach me humility, and they keep me grounded in a way that very few hobbies do. My crafts feed the artist in my soul. They allow little pieces of me to be experienced by others, and when they travel away from me, I feel as if a piece of me has gone with them, but in a good way. In a sharing sort of way. Some people say that I have talent. If so, then God has given me that talent, and by sharing bits of it with others, I can impact them. And, when I impact them, I give praise to God for bestowing that gift upon me.

I have a mind, which allows me to grown and learn. My mind can take me to wondrous places, and with it, I have the capacity to be anything that I want. My mind is not afflicted with disease, like countless others, who suffer daily. I am whole, and healthy, strong and capable. Within me lies enormous potential -- all I have to do is make myself open to knowledge, and accept that challenge.

Thank you, God -- for all that you have given me, and all that you continue to gift me with daily. Thank you for allowing me to grow and experience, even though some of those lessons were difficult and hard-won. Thank you for loving me as your child, and watching over me. Thank you. I will strive to live my life as a fulfillment of the promise that you put forth for me. I only hope I am worthy of the task.

An Open Letter to the Little Shit Who Broke My Daughter's Heart

Dear Shit --

Hi. I'm Offspring's mother. You will probably refer to me as "Bitch" after this message, but that's not really my concern. What *is* my concern is my daughter. My daughter is a wonderful person. She's smart, talented, beautiful, and a damn sight better than a little puke like you deserves. She cared for you, and you broke her heart. You played her against other girls, and dropped her as soon as it was easy for you. She helped you with your problems, only to have you pay her back by making her feel insignificant and unloved. What a nice guy you are!

Now, you may think I'm older than the sand in Jesus' Jerusalem Cruisers, but I can assure you that I am not in danger of kicking the bucket any time soon, so I suggest that you stay away from my daughter. Or "the bucket" is not the thing I'll be tempted to kick the hell out of.

It galls me to no end to see you pop up in her Facebook feeds. You talk all sweet to her, like you didn't rip out her heart and stomp all over it. You're lucky you moved across the state, or you and I would have had a nice little face-to-face chat. I would *DEARLY* love to paste this on your Facebook profile, so all the other sweet girls who fall for your huckster charms would see that you're not the innocent, nice guy you claim to be. But, that would hurt my daughter, and I won't have her hurt anymore because of you. Plus, she's a strong girl, and she can fight her own battles. You may have hurt her, but you haven't broken her. She's made of stronger stuff than a creep like you can dent, Thank God. I, however, have absolutely no problem at all wishing you dead in a fiery explosion of some sort. And preferably with the most pain possible.

I understand that teenage boys are all out to "play the field" and have a good time, but you seem to forget that you are dealing with people's feelings. Not to mention their irate mothers. So, unless you care to meet this irate mother, I suggest you quietly disappear from her virtual life, just like you did from her real one. This is the only free pass you'll get. There's a great many things I would do for my daughter, and flaying you alive and staking you out under a burning sun over an ant's nest while covered with honey is only one of the scenarios that a little maggot like you would inspire.

Oh, and if you EVER refer to my child as your "Lover of the Day" again, I will make sure that I remove your testicles and roast them before your eyes before I stake you out.

Love,
Offspring's Mom

The Month in Review

Since I have not blogged in the last month, due to Christmas, vacation, and all of the yearly seasonal hullabaloo, I figured that I would pop in and let you all know that I am still firmly planted above ground, and give you the quick rundown of the last 30 days or so.

* November's end brought a culmination to my Fall Quarter class, in which I received an "A." Thank goodness. As I told my professor, going back to school almost 20 years after the original college experience, I had something to prove to myself, and the "A" confirms that I'm where I should be, and deserve to be.

* Thanksgiving was nice, including seeing my brother and my soon-to-be sister in law. We had a wonderful meal, good conversation, and lots of laughter.

* The end of November also heralded my 17th wedding anniversary. I'm STILL surprised that Juggling Freak picked me, and even more grateful that he's managed to put up with me after 17 years.

* The beginning of December brought torrential rain to our area, which put a dismal, gloomy mood on everything until it lifted. The kids at school were stir-crazy due to no outside time, and we were all champing at the bit to get vacation started.

* Our higher-up muckety-mucks tell us right before Christmas Break what a dire financial strait we are in, and make decisions to cut costs wherever possible, leaving people to freak out about losing their jobs right before Christmas. No firm decisions are made about who, specifically, or what programs get the ax, but we know it's there, looming over us.

* School ends on the 18th of December, and everyone is relieved to have some break time coming.

* Offspring, Juggling Freak, and I spend Christmas Eve with my mother; Christmas morning at our own house; and head off to his mother's for Christmas Day lunch. Many presents were opened, and much joy was shared. We had steaks and baked potatoes at my mother's, and we went out for our traditional Japanese meal with his mother. (That particular tradition was begun because his mother can burn Jell-O, and we'd like NOT to spend the holidays sequestered near the Porcelain Throne.) Christmas also confirms that Offspring is, indeed, one spoiled child. Spoiled, but hopefully, not rotten.

* We make a quick blitz trip to TheCityOfMyBirth to see my father, uncle, and Grandmother. Grandma is 90 years old, and getting to the point where I worry about how many more Christmases with her we'll have. So, we go up for one night, and pop in on her to give her our best and let her know that we are thinking about her. My father takes us to dinner, and we all hatch plans for my brother's wedding in May. All other family is occupied, so no other meet-ups manage to happen. (All of my mother's family are located there as well -- uncles, aunts, and assorted cousins.)

* We return home yesterday, getting slowed down on I-95 South several times by absolutely nothing. This is frustrating and gives me a tension headache. I stripped all the linens off our beds, and we settle down for the night.

* On tap for today was a trip to the optometrist for JF. He's having trouble with night driving and it looks like his previous prescription is no longer cutting it. Turns out he needs bifocals, which he jokes makes him feel old. Heck, as long as he can see, I wouldn't care WHAT kind of glasses they are!

* My elbow has been bothering me for days -- I was diagnosed with epicondylitis about 8 or so months ago, and it hadn't bothered me much until last week. The pain has gotten steadily worse, and now I'm constantly hugging that arm to my side. Squeezing the nozzle to get gas yesterday was excruciating, so it's off to the doctor for me on Thursday. Oh, joy.

You're all caught up now. Any questions? There WILL be a quiz later, which will count for 35% of your grade, so ask now if you're unclear on anything. :)

Too Epic For Words

Love it! Must have it on repeat, all the time!

JF found this for me, and siad it was eminently bloggable, and so it is!

Strange Happenings

JF and I were watching TV in bed early last night, just being lazy on a chilly (to us) and rainy Saturday, when suddenly, we heard a loud "THUMP!" outside on our front walkway. Now, our house is surrounded by trees -- so much so, that if you try to Google Earth our house, you see one sliver of house, and mostly trees -- and we often hear pinecones thudding to earth during windy days. But, this wasn't a pinecone. It would have had to have been a giganto-cone in order to make the thud we heard.

JF went to the front door to investigate. "Uh....hon? Could you come here?" I got up and went to the front door, only to see JF with his nose pressed against the glass of the storm door. "It was a raccoon!, " he said, and pointed out towards the rainy night beyond our front steps. Lying on our walkway was a very stunned middle-sized raccoon. At first, we thought he had fallen off of our roof. This was a likely scenario, as we've seen raccoons up there before, drawn by the cat food we left outside for Blackie, our extra kitteh, and by the honey birdseed cake we hang in the big cedar tree right at the front of our house.

The poor little guy tried to stand up, but his hind leg wasn't working properly, and he fell over. He struggled to get oriented for a few minutes. JF and I both felt bad because we wanted to help him, but there was no way of knowing if he'd attack in his pained state, or if he was rabid or not. He seemed fairly calm, but then again, so did Cujo at first. I walked off to go to the bathroom, and JF wandered around to make sure both of the kittehs were safely inside. When we came back to the storm door, Mister Raccoon had disappeared. JF checked in the yard, all of the shrubs, and under both of our cars -- no raccoon. He was not moving very fast, so he probably didn't venture across the street.... As we sat there, pondering where he went, a large SPLAT! hit the pavement. It looked like vomit, to be honest. JF traced the trajectory, and up in the cedar tree, he saw four pairs of glowing eyes staring back at him.

We think maybe Mr. Raccoon was up in the tree to begin with, and fell out somehow. Maybe the branches were slippery from the rain. And, our cedar tree exudes this orange-y colored jelly instead of sap, so maybe he slipped on that. After his fall, he crawled back up the tree to where his "family" was, so they could take care of him. We think the vomit-y stuff was either him being sick after the fact, or a warning for us not to get too close, or it could have even been excrement, where he literally got the crap knocked out of him.

We just hope he's okay. I can just hear the raccoon gossip network..."Frank got so drunk the other night, he fell right out of the tree! Scared some poor human family out of their minds! That'll teach him to drink that cheap malt liquor!"

My Time Is My Own Again

My final exam was tonight, and I am now finished with Fall Quarter! Of course, I will have to wait for the "official" grades, but I'm pretty sure I made an "A" on the final -- only missed one question (worth one-half of a point) out of the 50 questions, and that means that I make an "A" in the course! Sweet!

I have a long break, thank all the gods who are and ever were. We don't begin Winter Quarter until January 4th! That gives me a good bit of time to get rested and grow back the clumps of hair that I've pulled out during this quarter. My class was interesting, but it's hard to go sit in a classroom for two and a half hours after you've worked a full day.

Major, major props go out to JF who kept the family fed and in clean clothing during this quarter. I knew there were many reasons that I loved him, but he worked a full day EVERY DAY to come home and clean, wash dishes and clothes, and feed us every Monday, Wednesday, and some jam-packed Thursdays. Thank you, love. You are special to me, in many, many ways, and this is only one of them

I will keep you all updated to the official stats once they come in, and I expect to be blogging (and on Facebook) more now that I'm not buried under a mountain of school stuff.

Only In My Hometown

My city is totally screwy. Things happen here that do not happen in "normal" places. I think it's a combination of all the liquor we collectively imbibe, the funky art-school aura, and the damned humidity.

Here's a small example of what I'm talking about:





This photo was taken a few weeks ago at a Mickey D's in my town. Now, either the workers are a) too goofy to notice they've misspelled their own item, or b) did it on purpose, in which case they're out of a job, or c) someone else tampered with the sign. Sadly, all given choices are within the realm of possibility.

When you all think I exaggerate about life in this little burg, look at this picture, and think again....

Not Dead Yet

I'm sorry that I have been posting even less than normal lately, but I seem to have no time at all. School is eating up my days, and most of my nights. All is going well on the college front (I got an A on my midterm -- hooray!) but we're heading down the home stretch towards finals. This means more studying and more assignments.

I spent today at home sick. Woke up this morning with a 101-degree fever and some stomach-churning. After being sick one time, the nausea thankfully subsided. Now I'm just left with the odd fever spike and a feeling like I have a box of Triscuits stuck up my nose.

Despite the yuck, I had an assignment to write and upload to my professor before class tomorrow. I'm a little mad at Blackboard -- they've removed the automatic grade average (the "weighted total") at the bottom, though this may be in my best interest, since I checked it rather obsessively. I got the assignment finished and uploaded, and made dinner (tacos) and some cupcakes for my troop's Birthday Party for Juliette Low on Thursday. Instead of posting, I should be working on my next assignment, but I am officially putting that off until Friday night.

Currently, we are observing a time-honored family tradition: the Annual Watching of The Great Pumpkin. This is a ritual strictly observed in our household, with non-believers being labeled as "commies." Offspring expressed an interest in NOT watching The Great Pumpkin this year, and her father questioned her paternity, and my truthfulness as her mother. There was even some mild cursing. JF then turned on BOTH televisions to maximize the Pumpkin-y goodness, and proceeded to insist that tradition be observed and maintained. I will keep you posted on whether Offspring remains shunned from the family unit or not.

RBoC

Random Bullets of Crap:

-- Tomorrow is midterm. How the hell is it midterm already?!? I'm not really cramming this quarter because I feel a lot more sure with the subject matter. So far, my GPA is a 90.87, which I'm pretty happy with. I am wondering what tomorrow's midterm will hold, but since we take our exams through Blackboard, I will be able to see my score as soon as I submit the exam. So, I'll either be happy tomorrow evening, or totally bummed.

-- School (the other school -- the one I get paid to go to...) is going pretty well. Or, well -- I should say it's going well in MY case, though how others around me are feeling, I have no idea. The last two years have taught me that I no longer have the capacity to judge what "they" might be feeling one way or the other. That, and maybe sometimes change is not only good, but necessary.

-- Thursday is my birthday, and Offspring is taking macabre delight in torturing me with the fact that I'm a year away from forty. I now regret doing the same thing to my own parents. I see now how annoying that truly is. And, I feel creakier with every passing day.

-- Tonight I have a meeting that has all the hallmarks of DOOM! about it. I'm hoping that all the players involved in this mess can find some common ground and that it won't suck majorly. May the fates be kind to us all.....

-- I talked to my mother this afternoon, and my aunt who has brain cancer is doing well. She's scheduled to take part in a clinical trial starting soon, and then chemo and/or radiation by the end of the year. She's doing amazingly well, and I am so glad to have her not only still with us, but almost as good as new. I got an email from her a few days ago, and was so pleased that she was not only out of the hospital but also emailing and sounding like her normal self. Modern medicine is miraculous, and I am so thankful for that.

-- Offspring's been sick, and now JF's been sidelined, too. It's most likely not swine flu, Thank God. Stuffy noses, headaches, and slight temperatures. Just your normal ickiness of the season.

Not much else to report, so I'm off to make dinner and sit with my family for a bit before I have to head out for this meeting. Everyone have a good week!

Completely and Utterly Boned

This is one of those times that I HATE having a pseudonymous blog -- I have a situation that I'm dying to discuss with you all, and hash out in the smallest of details, but if I do choose to talk about it, I have to be so vague and non-specific about everything that I end up sounding like either a) a bad philosophy student, or b) stoned out of my gourd.

I'll give it a shot, nonetheless.

I have a personal situation brewing right now that is going to be bad, no matter how you slice it. Feelings are going to be hurt, people will feel betrayed, and friendships will end. I can see this all ahead very clearly, but am powerless to stop it, or even to minimize the impact. Sort of how time seems to slow down when you're in a collision -- you can't avoid it, and you can't help but see it as almost a dispassionate observer.

What makes matters worse, however, is that I've been asked to take charge of the situation. To helm the sinking ship, as it were. I can't do it because of time constraints anyway, but to be asked to take something that's broken and bleeding and FIX it? And to be asked by some of the people that broke it in the first place?

It would be a hard enough job to do on its own, much less while trying to mend the damage, soothe injured spirits and feelings, and bring all of the parties left standing back together as a cohesive whole. I can't do it. Not only because I have too much already demanding my time, but also because I think that there just might not be healing to be had from some of this.

All I can say is: you are a poor friend when you only look out for number one. If you aren't willing to give a hand to people you SAY you care about, then you don't deserve their friendship.

My Time Is No Longer My Own

You know, they say that when you have kids, your time is no longer your own. I had some of that when Offspring was small -- she needed more attention then than she does now, and these days all she really wants me for is to re-up her texting on her cell phone. But, it seems like lately, I've been gone more than I've been home.

I have class on Mondays and Wednesdays after work, so I leave home at around eight am, and I don't return until 8pm. Thursday afternoons are my Girl Scout meetings, so that's at least 5:30 pm. This week, we had a "field trip" on Tuesday evening, which was a one-off thing, and tonight Offspring has HER Girl Scout meeting. This comes on top of last week's commando trip to CityOfMyBirth to see my aunt in the hospital.

Forgive me if I'm feeling a little tired.

My class is going well. I HAD a hundred-point average until Wednesday's quiz blew that out of the water. Now, it's an 89.87, but I expect that to go back up. Hopefully. Though, like last quarter, I'll be happy with a "B." I'd LOVE an "A", but I'll settle for a "B". More importantly, I like the class a lot, and I'm enjoying the back-and-forth with the other students.

I have 14 Girl Scouts this year. Only three are new, but I think they've got lots of personality, and I will enjoy my time with them. This means that we'll have a whole new crop of girls next year! It will be sad to see these babies move on, but it will also be fun getting to know a whole new bunch of girls.

Right now, I'm making Mexican Lasagna for tonight's Mexican-inspired potluck dinner for Offspring's Girl Scout meeting, and then I plan on coming home to clean up a little before Offspring has her friend over tomorrow for a Movie Extravaganza. Got to straighten up the living room, and then I plan to fossilize my butt to my bed and watch all the stuff that's been accumulating on the TiVo -- two eps of "Heroes", "The Other Boleyn Girl", and some other random stuff. And sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

Kollidge Makes Us Smartical

Offspring has used the word "smartical" since she was small -- her flip way of dismissing all those Gifted classes, and downplaying her intelligence. I guess she gets it honestly, as her father and I both do the same sort of thing, albeit in our own ways.

JF was walking past one of the dorms on my campus the other day, and noticed that the painters had been out, smartening things up for the influx of new students. They were painting directional arrows on the asphalt to guide students to appropriate parking. Apparently, those painters do not qualify under the banner of "smartical." Can any of YOU make any sense of this, because I sure can't.....

They Have Created A Monster!

So, in my new role for this school year, I am leaning sign language. The kids are delighted to be teaching ME, rather than the other way around.

I picked up the REALLY important stuff the first two days: "more", "cookie", "please", "sorry", "Good morning", "bus", "what", "which", "sit", and so forth.

Today, they started teaching me the signs for various foods: potato, bread, hot dog, taco, broccoli, banana, strawberry, spaghetti, oatmeal, blueberry, soup, cereal, lemon, bacon, toast, sandwich, cheese... I did pretty well when quizzed right after the fact, but the real kicker will be when I remember them tomorrow, or even a month from now. I've been told to prepare myself mentally for a "test" tomorrow.

I've been coming home and signing all that I can remember to JF and Offspring, and tonight at the dinner table, the following conversation occurred:

Offspring: (as she's walking to the dining room from her bedroom) "What's for dinner?"

JF: "Food!"

Me: (as she takes her seat) "Chicken, potatoes, and mixed vegetables. I know the signs for chicken and potatoes, and I know carrots and corn, but not peas."

(I proceed to demonstrate the newly-learned signs.)

Offspring: "Mom, you know -- I don't really care. I had enough of learning already today."

Feel the love, people.

-----------------------------

Speaking of school, we had a lock-down today because apparently come carjackers were in the area next to our school, and they were armed. After a harrowing afternoon involving many cops and police dogs and helicopters in the area, the all-clear was finally given. None of our students was harmed, and hopefully, no one got totally freaked by the experience, but stuff like that REALLY makes me nervous as all get-out.

Glad everything worked out.

Made the Grade!

My final grade for the summer quarter was an 87.84! While I would have *preferred* an "A", I'm content with a high "B." Not bad after 20 years away from college, no?

School, More School, and Other Assorted Stuff

Okay, so my first day back at work was today, and boy howdy -- was it HARD to get up with the alarm clock this morning! This was compounded by the fact that our lovely kitteh decided to howl every 15 seconds starting at 1am. JF finally drug his poor, tired self out of bed and made her lay with him on the couch. Of course, this was what she wanted all along, so it wasn't too much of an imposition on her.

The alarm rang at o'dark-thirty this morning, and I stumbled into the shower, bleary-eyed. (In the summer, I sleep as late as I can possibly manage. That's the only benefit that I can see to having a teenager -- sometimes, she sleeps even later than I do. And, if by some miracle she's awakens before me, she smooshes her butt into the crevice in the couch cushions and plays XBOX without bothering to wake me. It's at those moments that I am SUPREMELY glad that she no longer craves my company every second of the day. Where was I? Oh, yes -- the shower.)

I get into the shower, and am promptly clonked on the head by the hand-held nozzle while simultaneously having my back scalded by excruciatingly hot water because the last person to use the shower didn't turn that knob all the way off. What a way to start off the day! I'm just glad that I wasn't clonked in the jaw! (Speaking of jaw -- I was supposed to go see the oral surgeon about my TMJ, and his office called and said that they checked my insurance, and it doesn't cover TMJ. So, if I wanted to still go to that consult, it would be $568 out of pocket, and we don't do financing, thank you very much. Guess I'll suffer with a sore jaw for a while...)

I get to school, and go to my new assignment, and we find that our two adjoining classrooms have been reduced into one. And all the furniture from BOTH classrooms are now shoved, higgledy-piggledy, into one room. We spend all day moving furniture from one spot to another, trying to get most of it to fit. We worked our tails off in that room today, and it STILL looks like an educational supply store threw up and then exploded in there.

I'm tired, and I want to go to bed. The sleep I *didn't* get last night is now catching up to me. My jaw is beginning to ache, despite judicious application of ice cream, so it's off to get the ibuprofen with the naproxen sodium chaser, and then lights out. I have another full day of furniture wrangling and shelf clearing ahead of me.

I have yet to get my final grade for my class, but it should be posted some time tomorrow. I will post the final grade if I haven't committed seppuku. I have three more days in the classroom before kids arrive, and two weeks until I start my next class. So, the next few months are going to be OUTRAGEOUSLY busy, with work every day, school on Monday and Wednesday nights, and Girl Scouts on Thursdays and the occasional adult meeting on Tuesdays. If you don't see me for a while, check in to make sure that I haven't imploded.

Commander Bun-Bun

In our house, we love animals. We are mainly cat people, though we like other types of animals, but all we co-habit with is kittehs.

JF and I both had dogs and cats while growing up, and the living with a dog wasn't something we really wanted to repeat. Not that there's anything at all wrong with dogs -- I guess we just find them too high-maintenance. Our cat doesn't really require much in the way of output on our part -- feed her, change her litter, and occasionally snuggle when she's in the mood. She was easy to take care of when we had a toddler running around the house.

So, the other day, Offspring and I happened to go into the pet store to get some dog cookies for my mother's Westies. We were going to take a trip out to Mom's while they were away to make sure the house was still habitable. Mom had someone coming in daily to make sure they had food and water, but she said she'd feel better if she knew that there was someone who cared about them to come and check on them. While we were in the pet store, there was a display full of the cutest little bunnies you have ever seen! They were all playful, and hopping around like mad. I immediately spied this one brown bunny in the middle of the cage, who was just standing on her hind legs, looking up at me. I think that's when I lost my heart to her.

JF wanted no part of bunnies. He said that bunnies stink, and that if we got a bunny, he was claiming no responsibility for it. AT ALL. The bunny would be our bunny -- Offspring's and mine -- and he would not clean up after any bunny, period. He just wanted that clear. Yep. Got it. Our bunny. Crystal clear.

After we came back from visiting Mom's dogs, we went to the local PetSmart. I got a rabbit starter kit compete with cage, bedding, treats, toys, food bowl, and water bottle. We took all the bun stuff home, and set it up underneath Offspring's loft bed. Once Offspring had cleaned up her room, we went back out to the small pet store to pick out the bunny.

The little brown bunny was still there, and I asked the clerk to let me hold her. I was just wanting to see if she was as sweet as she seemed. Offspring wanted one of the black-and-white bunnies, but I was all about Little Brown Bunny. She *was* as sweet as she seemed. She immediately snuggled up to my shoulder, and burrowed her face into my neck. I could feel her whiskers tickling my neck, and I was a goner. Offspring held her while I paid for her, and talked baby talk all the way back to the house to her. "It's okay sweetie -- we're almost home. One more turn!"

We named her Hershey. She's the cutest thing, EVER. The geniuses at the pet store didn't know whether she was male or female; "She came in a box marked female, but sometimes they're wrong..." And they had no clue how big she'd get, or how old she was. So, we're going with "female", and "still pretty young" because she's so little. She fits in your hand, and stretched from the end of your palm to the tip of your middle finger, so basically one hand length. So far, she like strawberries, and loves to lick Offspring's fingers. She's very placid, and content to roam around her cage or snuggle with you as long as you like. I guess I was missing the snuggling. Now, I have it in spades!

Surgery Update

I am recovering nicely, and expect the worst to be past me. The surgery itself, I don't remember at all. I just lay there in the chair as they hooked up my IV, oxygen, and blood pressure cuff. They asked me a few questions, and shortly after, the surgeon came in, ran two drugs into my IV line, and that was all she wrote. It seemed like only a few minutes, and they were hauling me up out of the chair to head to recovery.

This time around, I was feeling a lot less "out of it", and apparently wasn't talking nonsense. Or at least, none that anyone told me about. As JF was leaving to pull the car around, the nurse walked him out with my post-surgery instructions, and I heard her tell him, "The lights are on, but nobody's home", meaning I was still under the influence of the meds despite how lucid I seemed. Hey! I take exception to that! I came home, read for a bit, and once JF had loaded me up with my prescriptions, I napped off and on.

Woke up a little more sore than I expected today, but that was still well within normal range. I still feel like I got punched in the jaw, but it's not like I got punched in the jaw by Ali. It's more like I got an uppercut from a clumsy bodybuilder -- one who's strong enough to put some hurt on you, but uncoordinated enough not to land the blow to maximum effect.

The only good thing about this is that I only have one wisdom tooth left, so if that one has to come out, I shouldn't have to see the oral surgeon ANY MORE! He's a nice guy and everything, but I hate dental work. At least with him, over the actual dentist, I'm asleep for it all!

Paging Dr. Freud

Some of you might already know that I'm preparing for some oral surgery on Monday. Nothing too extreme, but I have an impacted wisdom tooth that's got to come out, and I wanted to get it done and over with before I had to report back to school. It wouldn't be good to start off the year with a requesting a couple of sick days.

I'm a little freaked out about surgery, but this will be the second time I've had this procedure, so it's not quite so scary. I remember thinking last time, just before the drugs kicked in..."I *really* don't want to do this!" But, in no time at all, it was over and I had cheeks that looked like a bad Marlon Brando "Godfather" impersonator. But, then again, I remember thinking the exact same thought as Offspring's head was crowning during birth. "I REALLY don't want to do this!!!" Funny how passing a bowling ball-sized object through a drinking straw-sized portion of your anatomy can play havoc with your emotions.

But, with the worry of impending surgery, I've been having a sort-of recurring dream that I've had for many years: the losing of the teeth. Now, when I say "losing of the teeth", I mean not just losing a tooth here and there, but very VIVID dreams of doing normal activity and suddenly every single tooth in my head falls out. Fine one minute, and the next: poof! Toothless crone.

The details differ from dream to dream, but the ultimate outcome is that I end up with no teeth in one fell swoop. In one dream, I remember getting up like normal, and heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and having the toothbrush knock out a tooth or two, and the rest following like dominoes. So, there I am, with toothpaste dripping down my chin and a heap of what look like white Chiclets filling up my palm.

Other variations involve me thinking a tooth is loose, and going to push on it with a finger, and having that tooth and all the rest fall out into the sink. Or, the one where I bite into a crisp apple, and draw back, only to find all the teeth are stuck in said apple. Or the one where I'm just suddenly able to spit teeth into my palm like you'd spit out watermelon seeds.

Crazy, right? Back away slowly, people.

I know Freudian Dream Analysis would say that I'm vain and worried about the loss of my beauty, but since I feel like you can't really lose what you never had, that's not so much of an option. (And, yes -- I DO have self-esteem issues, but this isn't so much a dig at myself as it is a sad fact. It's not like I was going to be on the cover of any magazines any time soon. Anyway...)

I even talked to a guy who had a "dream analysis" blog. Apparently, it's a pretty common dream, and it could also relate to your sense of confidence, and how others see you. I mean, a nice smile (or a not-so-nice one) is something most people notice right off the bat. So, if you lose all your teeth, you might be embarrassed to face people, and your confidence would take a hit. Or, it may convey a sense of powerlessness -- you may feel that things are out of your control, or that your voice isn't being heard.

Whatever the root cause is, come Monday, I will be one tooth less. Maybe I should talk to the dentist now about a set of dentures -- sort of a preemptive strike. Best to be prepared, just in case.

Wrong On So Many Levels

Offspring has outgrown so many things lately that it's getting hard to keep track. She once used to BEG us to tune the satellite radio to Radio Disney, but that has long gone the way of the dodo. I don't think I've seen my delicate flower of womanhood in a dress in about 2 years, at the least. She's dropped cartoons and Disney Channel shows for Japanese anime shows, which she discusses at great lengths with her friends. Also long gone are the crafty projects that we used to do together and the little-girl fascination with nail polish and horses. These days, the nail polish is black, and the only horses I see are the ones that she draws getting hacked to bits in samurai battles. (Well, maybe that last is a bit of an exaggeration. They aren't "samurai" battles, they're demons who fight using parts of their souls. And, generally, there aren't any horses to speak of.)

We used to watch a lot of kids TV -- anyone who has kids of a certain age know exactly what I mean when I say I watched a full boatload of "Blue's Clues". Offspring had certain videotapes that she watched with approaching near-religious fervor. Among those tapes (and see; it was so long ago that they were TAPES, not DVDs.) was "Big Bird Goes to Japan", which might have been the starting point for the love of all things Japanese she currently exhibits; and a bajillion "Rugrats" episodes. Her most favorite, though, were the Disney Sing-Along tapes. We watched the Christmas and Halloween ones at least once a week, and usually a lot more often than that. We actually wore out VHS copies of both of those tapes, requiring new ones because the screaming without them was hideous to hear.

Then there were the shows that we tried desperately to keep her away from because they made her father and I want to shove icepicks deep within our own brains. "Barney" was pretty much universally hated, and was something she only watched at other people's houses. I think we had her convinced that Barney tapes could only live at other people's houses, and we weren't allowed to own them. I particularly hated "Caillou," and still do , even unto this day. He's such a whiny little prat that I want to smack him. I can't have it on at school, or the red haze descends, and pretty soon I'm being called in the office for yelling inappropriate things at the TV and waving appendages in the air that should not be waved when children are about.

Juggling Freak's favorite show had to be The Big Comfy Couch. He had a serious thing for Loonette the Clown, and even today will make lewd comments about her, and the size of her...um...melons. (Hey, I said it was wrong on so many levels! I warned you ahead of time!) Instead of walking around the house singing, "...on the big, comfy couch!", JF walked about singing the praises of "...the big-breasted clown!" I used to chuck small toys and pacifiers at him when I heard his more-risque version of that theme song, but worse BY FAR was his fascination with the Clock Rug Stretch. It was embarrassing to see a grown man drool and say, "C'mon nine-fifteen!"

It makes me glad that Offspring outgrew that particular show.....