Playing with Myself

The best thing about last week wasn't the days off, or the wonderful company. Honestly, the best thing about last week was that very few clients called into the office. Heh.

We had a lovely time with the sister-in-law and her family (three kids below the age of seven, oi!). Our traditional Thanksgiving dinner at Ryan's was a pleasant novelty for them. Our Ryan's normally has Thanksgiving or autumn-themed pictures colored by local grade schoolers up on the walls. They didn't this year. I missed them.

We did, of course, have pie at home. Pumpkin (yum) and cookies 'n cream for those so inclined.

I had no intention of joining the fray shopping on the day after Thanksgiving, until I discovered that my sister-in-law who doesn't like to shop was actually looking forward to it this year. Not enough to get up at 6 am, however. We did make it to Michael's in time to use one of their 40% off a single item coupons. We'll see if the nifty mat cutter that I bought is actually nifty.

I went back to cleaning kennels at Pet Refuge on Saturday morning, for the first time since I busted my elbow. I'm always reluctant to go, but when I go I'm always glad I did. We are so overloaded with dogs at the shelter, though, that it's depressing. And yet it's not, because at least those dogs aren't on the street. I guess all my feelings about Pet Refuge now are thankfulness mixed with sadness. Rusty, our current foster, will probably get adopted this week too, so that doesn't help the mood.

Saturday and Sunday were mostly about house cleaning and sorting and laundry and a mental meltdown in which I did a few very stupid things.

Last night's Desperate Housewives rocked. I wish I had taped it.

Holiday round-up (aka "In which my sister has an engagement ring and I have food") My sister got engaged. Having finally met the guy, I can say he's splendid. I have reservations about the engagement itself, but it's none of my business. It's a gorgeous ring, and I admit I'm a wee bit jealous as we were too poor for an engagement ring.

This was the year in which people gifted me with food, which is terribly ironic given that part of my bipolar treatment regimen is avoiding caffeine and excessive sweets. So if anybody wants some cookies, turtles with pecans, turtles with almonds, truffles, chocolate bars, more cookies, mini M&Ms, mini 3 Musketeers/Snickers etc, stop by. You can't have the pie, though. My dad made three kinds of pie and I adore him.

Mr G got three DVD box sets off his wish list. I got a full-screen copy of something I wanted in widescreen (I'll trade it, I have no shame) and my parents bought me stuff from my wish list for the first time... ever. Bless their techno-phobe hearts. I got a Darth Maul from my sweetie, a lovely cross stitch from graygirl, a Tim Burton book from danakate, two postcards and three donations to Pet Refuge, disappointing news about a friend, anger at myself, and when somebody said "bipolar much?" in reference to something else I burst into tears.

The dogs enjoyed seeing their grandparents too much. Emily is a shit when she wants to be -- she bit Mr G when he tried to stop her from chewing on something she shouldn't. In general she is not object possessive, but when she goes to either of the grandparents houses she gets spoiled and thinks she can do whatever she wants. I've got Mr G's wedding ring on my necklace, because his finger was so swollen. *sigh* Zoe is with Mr G in Champaign, basking in only-dogdom. The rest of the gang didn't sleep well last night because Daddy wasn't home.

Mr G did all of the driving from South Bend to Champaign to St. Louis to Champaign. Bless him. My drive back from Champaign was fine, except for a whiteout somewhere between miles 11 and 30 of the Toll Road. That was the only place it was snowing, too. Weird.

I was so glad to get home. I wish I were there now.

I can't decide whether to join Weight Watchers online again, or muddle through on my own. I hate to pay the cash since money is a bit tight, but actually paying for it makes me more disciplined. Stupid brain.

Tonight, I am going to pick up Waggs and see if he can cohabitate peacefully with the mutts.

I need a cell phone. We're considering going the Virgin pay-as-you-go phone route, but suggestions on alternatives would be nice.

And in a question from the "am I a grown-up? obviously not" department, we are going to have our taxes professionally done for the first time. What should I look for in choosing someone, and what do I need to provide to said person?

I have fic from butterflykiki to read. Yay!

I am furious to discover that the family who applied to adopt our current foster dog, Bunny, lied through their collective teeth on their application and in their interview. I called their vet's office to check whether their current dog was up to date on his shots and learned that the family has always declined heartworm TESTING as well as the medication for protection. And that when they said the reason they had not gotten their current dog neutered was because they had been spending so much money on cancer treatment for their now deceased dog, what they meant to say was that once the vet said their dog had a possibly cancerous mass on his leg they stopped taking him to the vet.

I'm really angry, mostly at myself because another volunteer called me last night to discuss the family, as she had misgivings. I did too, but they were small things that I was willing to overlook because the two sons in the family are obviously in love with Bunny already. Ack.

1. Lithium + prozac = panic attacks. So far, lithium + zoloft = no panic attacks.

2. Zoe has had a broken tooth since last Tuesday. Her face was really swollen Tuesday night so we thought she might have taken a softball to the face while we were playing in the back yard. The swelling went down so we thought she was okay, but this weekend it started to return. She's on antibiotics, and is scheduled for dental surgery on Monday. They'll take out the broken tooth and its counterpart on the other side, because it is also crumbling.

I feel like such a bad parent.

3. Alex was pregnant, but apparently she wasn't far enough along for the vet to catch it the two times he saw her. She has been climbing up the wall behind the water heater (it's not finished up there, so there's uncovered beams and vents) and we've been trying to block it off so she can't. It turns out she's been going through the beams to the ceiling of the guest bedroom closet. There's a hole in the closet ceiling from when we were trying to figure out the source of the leak there. She went down the hole, climbed down the luggage and other miscellaneous crap in the closet, and probably had her kittens under the guest bedroom bed. They're three to four weeks old. There's only two, which is very small for a litter, but Alex was underfed when we got her and she hasn't bulked up much since. Mama and babies are now comfortably ensconced in the guest bedroom, formerly the only cat-free room in the house.

I feel like such a bad parent.

4. On May 1 my workload was increased, going from 20 accounts to 33. Unfortunately, the new accounts were chosen so that my number of policies doubled, from about 50 to 100. I am busy beyond belief.

5. I lost 2 1/4 pounds last week. Small steps, small steps.

6. There is no number six.

7. Mr G is actively searching for jobs, so with half a mind toward having to sell the house I have been doing the kind of cleaning that I really ought to do more often but can't be bothered because I suck. The mountain of dog hair beneath the refrigerator was astounding.

8. I am on a co-ed softball team with co-workers. We played our first game last Tuesday, and got trounced 18-9. We suck. But I am pleased to note that I am a much better softball player than I was when I was twelve, because I'm no longer afraid of the ball.

9. I didn't get 20 questions to answer, but I did get a few. I'll work on them this week.

10. How are you?

http://www.cageyklio.net/gallery/Kittens?page=1
login: albums
pword: kelly

(or maybe it's reversed. I forget. I should change it to photo, album)

Now off to play softball in 90 degrees.

It was hard losing Alex, Dana & Georgia so quickly and so close together. Beyond hard. Miserable. Please don't let your cats be outside kitties. Feline leukemia is terrible.

We have been tossing around the idea of getting a couple of new kittens for the past two months but summer time is a bad time to establish regular routines, and Border Collies, psychoSpaniels, bipolarMommies, and new babies need routine. Now that Mr G is firmly grounded in town -- no more conferences or conventions because he has to get ready for the beginning of the semester -- we thought it was time to see who was out there waiting for us. Boy, did we luck out. Meet Selena, Lily, and Harley. Selena & Harley are from the same litter, and are probably about 4 months old. Lily, who was fostered with them, is about a month younger. I will have better pictures as soon as we get a new battery for the digital camera. The Bat Girls are nonstop action and purring. Lily is much more shy (unlike her namesake Lily Rowan), but she is elegant and smart. And definitely hard to catch, so the name fits.

Oh, the dogs can't wait until the kittens are brave enough to come upstairs! DoggieTV is playing the all kitten channel these days.

On a completely unrelated note, I have several things that I absolutely need to get in the mail this week as they have been hanging over my head like the proverbial rain clouds. The package that bothers me most is the one I need to send to a former friend, containing what's left of her things at my house. It's appropriate, I suppose, that the end of our friendship became so akin to the breakup of a really dysfunctional relationship. I love her so much and think of her often, but we never could find a middle ground between her need for distance and my fear of abandonment. We made a lot of mistakes. As for her things -- book, CD, and the like -- I am torn because I have presents that I bought for her at various times throughout the year, saving for birthday or Christmas. I could give them to someone else, but it feels wrong because I bought them for her. On the other hand, it's pretty damn stalkerish to send a bunch of crap that might trouble her. Now that I think about it, though, she did the same to me before I finally pushed the issue and we chose not to try and work it out -- a present dump of things she had collected that reminded me of her. I guess a note freeing her to do whatever she wants with them (not that she wouldn't) will do the trick, getting the stuff out of my house and exorcising those demons.

Speaking of which, someone at work offered me an exorcism. She didn't use those words, of course. It was more, "You've got a spirit of anger in ya girl," and an offer to "lay hands on me". Life just keeps getting funnier.

Watching: Foyle's War
Listening: Everclear
Being: Tired

Everybody think happy thoughts for Dr. DiG, who defended her dissertation last Wednesday, interviewed for a job on Thursday, got the job on Sunday, and is now hoping to be there for the beginning of classes on... tomorrow!

Tarye no lenger; toward thyn heritage
Hast on thy weye, and be of ryght good chere.
Go eche day onward on thy pylgrymage
-- from the infamous JL, for my friend

From the recent natal celebration:

Obi-Wan trumps SurlySith
Look at that blubber fly!
The gingerbread cofffin cake

Ms. Thing woke us up somewhere past midnight panting as if she had been set on fire. It's not that unusual for her little Cocker thermometer to go awry, and Mr G showed who ranks where in the family hierarchy by turning down the house temperature in response. Fan, my dear man -- ceiling fan! No need to shiver the rest of our timbers.

The fright came circa 5 in the morning, when her breathing had turned shallow and she was shaking so badly I had flashbacks to Alex's last day, when the poor kitty was curled under the covers with me trying hard to retain any body heat. By a little after 6 we resolved to go to the emergency pet clinic, got everyone else fed and tended to, bundled Em in a blanket and piled into the car. Driving up and down 3rd Street produced no clinic at the designated address, however. So I called, which if I'd had any sense I would have done before we set out, and got an answering machine saying that the ER was open in the Spring and Summer. WTF? We dithered a bit more and finally landed in the parking lot of a vet clinic that advertised itself as opening at 7 am, which indeed it did.

Blood work and X-rays later, it turned out to be a neck injury of some kind. She has been walking rather tentatively for the past few days, and the night before had cried out when Mr G lifted her head to administer the usual final round of eye drops. Apparently the Little Cocker That Could simply refuses to complain except when she's in dire pain, but we didn't recognize it as anything other than a bit of retort to pinched skin. The vet diagnosed the symptoms as her body's response to the pain level and sent us home with anti-inflammatories, which do seem to be helping as Em has regained a little range of motion. We're supposed to keep her off the furniture so she doesn't do any further damage by jumping down unaided.

If I hadn't gone through the horrific with Alex I probably wouldn't have freaked out quite as much. I'm just not ready to lose Emily, though, so what a relief that it's something that will heal eventually.

Eight days and seven nights at Walt Disney World with the in-laws and three children under 10, and no threats of bodily injury or disinheritance were carried out. Go team!