Whirlweekend!

Fun, but exhausting.

My toes are still infected, so no water-walking and ten more days of antibiotics. Friday was truly ugly, weather-wise--cold, pouring rain all day. Mom called me Friday night, and she sounded awful. Dad had brought some ick home from the cruise, and Mom had caught it, and every time she gets a cold it winds up in her vocal cords. Between her cold and my toes, we agreed that if it was raining, we wouldn't go to the big craft fair at Stan Hywet, but we were still going to spend the day shopping and having lunch at Aladdin's.

Saturday morning was clear, cold, and sunny, so Mom picked me up and off we went to the Ohio Mart craft fair. The only difficulty was that the ground was so soaked from Friday's rain that my feet were muddy and filthy and my socks were wet through within twenty minutes. Still, that didn't stop me from getting a whole bunch of wonderful things. Most of them were presents, but a few were for me--I treated myself to a geranium-scented candle and eight pieces of maple sugar candy, which I love but haven't had in about five years. Mom picked up a really cute and different Santa ornament, and helped me pick out presents for my brother and sister-in-law.

When we had done as much damage as possible, we left Stan Hywet. We stopped back at my house so I could wash my feet, re-bandage my toes and put on a clean pair of flip-flops, and then had lunch. I of course had kibbie, and Mom had the vegetarian appetizer platter, and we talked about the cruise we might take next May.

After lunch we hit Gabriel Brothers, where Mom got an adorable skirt for my niece for her birthday, and I got underwear, a skirt, a new bath mat, a lavender candle, socks and other sundries. Then Mom dropped me off at home, where I took a T3 and a nap.

One thing I noticed Saturday night--Littlefoot makes the cutest noises when he sleeps. He's barking in his sleep, but so softly and indistinctly that it's this adorable burbling noise with a slight undertone of yipping. Bigfoot used to do it too, and I've always called it "puppy percolating," because that's what it sounds like. Saturday night, Little Miss Underfoot stuck close to me, and when she'd been deeply asleep beside my chair, she started making her sleep noise. She doesn't percolate, though, she growls. Cute bitty-girl fierceness!

Sunday morning I worked at Mom's office, getting caught up on all of the outstanding checking accounts (balancing checkbooks and updating spreadsheets) and doing two child support calculations as well as double-checking on some court orders. Then I came home, changed the sheets on the bed and started a laundry marathon which is still going on right now. As my friend Rogue once asked, "How does one person create all this laundry?" *grin*

One last purchase for myself--the founder of BPTP, the partner of BPAL, lost his beloved dog a month or so ago. Ted and Beth created a wonderful tribute scent for Pa-Pow, with the proceeds going to the Pasadena Humane Society. If you click here and scroll down to the picture of Pa-Pow, you can read the tribute and perhaps purchase the scent. I had to buy a bottle to express my sympathy for Ted and Beth's loss, to give a little money to a good cause, and hopefully, to smell my Bigfoot in a bottle.

Time for some maintenance

I mentioned that last week, I got to go see The Wizard of Oz in HD on a theater screen, thanks to the generosity of China Glaze and Michelle of All Lacquered Up. Even more generous was the fact that as the drawing winners arrived, Michelle surprised each of us with the Rescue Beauty Lounge polish she inspired--Mismas! If you'd like to see an icky picture of me and a better pic of Michelle and the other winners, here is Michelle's writeup, along with pics of her Dorothy Who manicure.

Meeting all those younguns for the movie reminded me that it's time to do something about what my hairstylist calls my "natural platinum highlights." Pleh. If I had witchy streaks at my temples or a dramatic stripe, I wouldn't bother to color my hair, but since the greys are scattered throughout, all they do is dim the color. As soon as I get a trim, I'm going to cover up all the greys!

I have yet another appointment with the foot doctor on Thursday night. Unfortunately, right now it doesn't look as if this antibiotic is working any better than the previous one. :( I need to get my toes healed so I can go back to water-walking, because I miss it like crazy. Plus, Mom's back in town now, and I know she hates going to class without me. I definitely need to do a bunch of Jammies-maintenance things in the next couple of weeks!

For Captain Crossword and Captain Spaulding and O-boy

Heehee! Miss Jams has a bat in her hair!

That's a direct quote from Maresche, the only co-worker to notice I wore a bat barrette today because I couldn't find a green one. It was a good antidote to the rotten start of my up-and-down day.

Not cool: discovering at 11:30 last night that I was out of coffee.

Cool: having M notice my barrette.

Not cool: having a co-worker verify the stuff I'd just done and discover a lot of mistakes.

Cool: my boss being impressed that I talked to her about it and worked out a strategy for dealing with my memory/concentration problems and our busy time of year. She actually said that she was pleased I came and spoke with her about it instead of hiding from her.

Not cool: wondering how I'm going to put gas in my car and buy dog medicine before I get paid next.

Cool: selling a bottle of BPAL for just about what I paid for it, to someone who will love it more than I ever did.

Not cool: worrying about the health and happiness of several friends.

Cool: actually winning something for once! Michelle at All Lacquered Up had a drawing to see The Wizard of Oz in HD, and I was one of the winners! Yaaaay!

Now to decide what nail polish to wear...

*note to self* I love autumn

Sadly, it seems like I need to remind myself that I do love this season. From chilly, foggy mornings where my long back yard is an artwork in chiaroscuro to the slow burn of trees across the street to the smell of woodsmoke to the Halloween decorations starting to show up, I love fall.

That gets to be difficult to remember when I'm at work on a Saturday morning, doing something that two co-workers managed to tangle up between them to the point where it was an emergency. Fortunately, both Dogmama and Wilson were there, so we all got to vent a little, yak a little, joke a little.

My September calendar has seven book-building days listed on it, four down and three to go, October will be worse and November will be ugly. I'm hoping that the foot doc will let me go back to the pool, because deprived of that outlet, I'm eating more and still not getting rid of my frustrations. At least most of my colleagues have a sense of humor and can show it when they're not being pounded into the ground by the workload, and I get to share surreal e-mails with one guy at one of our other offices--my sanity savers.

Happy fall to my few remaining readers.

NO! You may not sleep there!

Friday morning was rushed but uneventful--I did the grocery shopping, went to the library, changed the sheets, cleaned the bathroom and went to my last water-walking class for a while, then came home, showered and dressed and waited for Dad. He picked me up in time to stop and get my post-op prescriptions, and then dropped me off at the foot doc's and went to get lunch. I told him what the doctor's office had told me, that I should allow 90 minutes for the surgery.

The only painful part of the procedure was the Novocaine injections (in fact, I still have bruises on both toes). The one for the left foot hurt, but I could suck in my breath, clench my fists and get through it. For some reason, the one for my right foot hurt to the point where I yelped and the doctor felt bad for hurting me. I must have more nerves in that toe or something...

While the doctor and nurse did gross things to my feet, I read one of the cheesy romance novels I'd picked up for my weekend reading. I couldn't have seen anything anyway, because they had a screen of sorts up, but I didn't want to risk it. I had deliberately worn BPAL's Love and Pain because it's my sleep blend, and it was making me pleasantly drowsy. *note to self* Buy another bottle with your next order. When Dr. W. was done, the nurse cleaned my feet up a bit and helped me get my flip-flops back on and descend from the chair, then walked me out to the lobby. I looked at the clock, saw that it was 1:20; looked in the parking lot and didn't see Dad, so I called him. He was eating lunch, so I told him to finish, and went back inside with my book.

Dad arrived about 1:40, and it wasn't until he said something that I realized that my appointment was at 1:00, not noon, and they'd finished in 20 minutes! Dad dropped me off at home, and I came in and per the doc's instructions, had two of my T3s immediately, then let the dogs out and back in again.

My intention was to take a short nap in the recliner, so I could keep my feet elevated. Between the lavender perfume and the T3, I was more than ready to crash for a while. I turned my cell on, got a light throw, and settled in the chair. The dogs flopped down beside me, but it must have been clear fairly quickly that I was planning to stay in the recliner and sleep, and Little Miss Underfoot decided that was just not acceptable. She is now used to sleeping with me, cuddled up to the small of my back, and when I didn't get up despite some whimpering, some barking, and some Lassie-style running back and forth, she elected to JUMP onto the reclincer, landing squarely on my stomach.

When I had oofed and shoved her off, she jumped back on, so I gave up, got up, went to the bedroom and laid down on the bed. Little Miss Underfoot sprang onto the bed, turned around three times, and settled down to sleep in her normal spot, pleased that her human pet had finally gotten things right.

I had a nice quiet weekend, doing nothing much, reading drivel and posting snarky reviews on Goodreads. Mom and I did work together on Sunday, and got almost all of the prep done so that the office is ready for her to be gone for eighteen days. My toes are not infected, and I am being a model patient, following all the directions for soaking and drops and bandaging. I don't want to have to go a full six weeks with no water-walking!

And Little Miss is just happy I've learned not to sleep in the recliner.

A long weekend

Toe tormenting tomorrow!

I'm going to get up, run to the post office and the grocery store, do one last water-walking class, get an eye exam and new glasses, then go have my toenails pulled out (okay, partially) and then come home and take any pain meds needed.

I have dark chocolate, cheesy romances, silly videos and a cell phone full of friends' phone numbers. I should get through the weekend just fine.

Oh, and I also have enough clean underwear for ten days so I don't have to go down in the basement and do laundry.

Feet per second

Not falling speed, just the rate of speed I can manage while jogging in the pool. It's definitely improved since I started water-walking back in April, as has my endurance. Tonight, I really needed the workout, because it was an extra Mondayish Monday.

The day started with an office in which the air-conditioning was apparently blasting all weekend, a work fridge that has been broken for a week, a nastygram from the building management about people leaving their lunches in the ice-maker, and another nastygram from manufacturing, and went downhill from there.

Over the weekend, I did some proofreading for the Little Mermaid on a book she was supposed to build today. I found three small errors, and knowing she had another multi-volume pub to build today, offered to fix the errors when I got in. She took me up on the offer, and I made what I thought would be three simple fixes.

One of them was easy. The other two were not, and in fact, I lost track of the number of times I started from scratch to add one damn form to the book. Start with the .pdf, convert it to a .tif, load the .tif, put the .tif in the book, yell to tech support that it wasn't working, wait forty minutes and start over again. Finally, tech support told me to send them the .tif file, which I did, and they got it to work eleven minutes before LM left for the day. She'd already notified our forecaster that she wouldn't be building the book today, but still, it's infuriating that some glitch cost me a day's worth of work and LM a shot at getting her book done on time.

Another co-worker scared me to death--I had asked her to proofread something I'd done for MegaBookMan, and she said she didn't see any of my changes in the finished manuscript. So I went in to re-do about two days' worth of work, and every single edit I'd made was there. I don't know wth is going on with that co-worker, but I just re-proofed the whole thing and called it done.

Our busy and hellish time of year is starting earlier, and I'm just hoping that my mnemonics and spreadsheets hold up as we head into fourth quarter mayhem.

Three cheers for Flannel Jammies

Today, my mother, whose age I will not disclose lest she kill me, is riding in her tenth Pedal to the Point. She started doing this before I was diagnosed with MS, and I've always been proud of her, but since my diagnosis, I've felt even more invested in her ride.

I do get a giggle out of the fact that every year she says it's her last ride.

Way to go and thank you, Mom.

Have you ever heard...

a vacuum cleaner burp? I'm pretty sure my HK (that's Heritage Kirby, not Hessler & Koch) gave either a huge belch or a huge sigh of relief tonight.

Mallie & the Scarecrow gifted me with the Kirby when they were here last month. I would never in a million years be able to afford a Kirby on my own, but now I have one! Tonight, it got one heck of a workout, and Little Miss lost the privilege of being upstairs while I'm at work.

Today was a pretty Mondayish Monday, and when I'd fought my way home through a chain of severe thunderstorms, all I wanted was to collapse for a few minutes before heading out to the Nat to meet Mom. Sadly, that was not to be. When I got home, I could see the carnage in the living room from the kitchen.

All of the cushions were off the couch and the loveseat, the skirting fabric had been chewed off the couch, and there was stuffing everywhere. I was convinced that Little Miss had shredded a couch cushion or six. Luckily, the cushions were still intact, but sadly, what she did gut was my oversized stuffed dog, Beecee.

Beecee was a gift from my uncle and his first wife to my mom when she went off to college. My poor forty-year-old stuffy was savaged by Little Miss. :( Most of Beecee is still there, but considerably less stuffed than previously. After I'd let the dogs in and out and fed them, I got out the HK and set to work.

Little Miss objected to the vacuuming and Littlefoot objected to Little Miss objecting. Somehow, I managed to get the living room vacuumed. I was going to do the rest of the house, but I took a quick look at HK's torso and realized the poor thing was absolutely bloated. I'll have to stop at the Kirby store tomorrow and pick up some replacement bags.

Oh, and Monday evening was Mondayish too--I waited in the rain in the parking lot for twenty minutes for Mom, who never showed. When I gave up and headed inside at six, we had about fifteen minutes of exercise in when the pool was closed due to lightning. Then I got home and found a message from Mom on my cell--she'd left her car lights on and wouldn't be able to make it. I'm so glad this day is almost over!

Oh, BLEAH

It's been a week full of pinpricks, and I just called my mom and told her I wouldn't be driving up to the lake to spend the weekend. I'm sorry to miss Bookworm Mathgeek and Tinkerbell, but it's just not a good idea. :(

R E S P E C T

There seems to be a huge lack of it these days. Some time today, someone left a big wad of gum on top of one of the walls at the pool. I cleaned it up, and then spent the rest of my warmup time thinking about the lack of respect for common areas. I'm constantly cleaning trash out of my front yard where people throw it from their cars.

My conclusion is that it's a combination of laziness, selfishness and entitlement. It's easier to throw your trash out the car window or leave your gum on the wall, you should only have to do what's easy for you, and you paid the taxes that built that road or the natatorium.

*sigh*

Some days, I just hate human beings.

The Event of the Season

Was Princess Mathgeek's tea party today. The hostess, wearing a white full-skirted dress with a pink pleated bodice and sparkly pink polish on tips and toes, greeted guests at the home of her grandmother, Flannel Jammies. There were nine young guests, ranging in age from three and a half years old to ten years old, all of whom graciously allowed their mothers, aunts, grandmothers and/or friends to accompany them. Party games were played, including musical hats and a memory game, and the guests decorated a summer visor with Foamies. There were glamour shots on the back deck, with feather boas, fancy hats, elbow-length gloves, lace shawls, fans and a large parasol. Dainty snacks were served, including lemon pound cake with fresh strawberries and blueberries, cucumber, ham, egg salad and PB&J sandwiches with the crusts cut off, heart-shaped sugar cookies, Jan Hagel cookies, watermelon, pineapple and strawberries on fancy toothpicks, mini cheesecakes with cherry toppings, vegan mini strawberry cupcakes, mixed nuts and pastel pillow mints. Each guest was given a handmade sugar cookie in the shape of a hat to take home. After the games, the snacks and the photo ops, there was a great deal of "playing guinea pig," a game which involves running around the house screaming and squeaking.

This was definitely a tres chic and tres successful event, and I pity all of the under-ten set who weren't there.

Juror #6

I can now say that I have both served on a jury and had part of a toenail pulled out and the former is much to be preferred.

Much to my surprise, I was actually seated on a jury, sworn in and instructed in the law yesterday (criminal case). This morning, we heard opening arguments, two 911 calls and three witnesses. This afternoon, a fourth witness testified and then the jury was dismissed for a short break while the bailiff worked to get another audio CD of more 911 calls up and playing. During that time, the prosecutor and defense attorney agreed on a plea bargain and the judge accepted it. The jury was dismissed, and I got to be part of our justice system, got a short break from work, and had lunch with my mom twice in two days. For $5 in parking costs and $2 in beverages, that's a bargain!

Late this afternoon, I saw a podiatrist for the first time. I've had ingrown nails on my big toes for ages, but they've started to get bad recently. After talking with Scarecrow last week, I decided to bite the bullet and look into having them permanently fixed. When I saw the doc, he discovered that my right nail was infected, so he numbed my toe, trimmed out what he could and gave me a prescription for an antibiotic. I have an appointment next Thursday to check on how it's healing, and then hopefully I can schedule the procedure. Sadly, it means three to six weeks of no baths, no water-walking, no closed-toe shoes and no toenail polish. Still, now that I've got my courage up, I want to get this over with.

Scary stuff

Today was an awfully long day for a holiday. Hyphenated Corp. gave its peons the day off with pay, but Flannel Jammies, being self-employed, had to work most of the day. I went in to her office first thing this morning, and we balanced her IOLTA account and one guardianship annual account. Then I went to water-walking this morning because there won't be a class offered tomorrow morning.

Ordinarily, that would have been enough for one day for me, but I came home, had a quick lunch and started putting the study back together. I got the vacuum cleaner out and started with that. Little Miss went absolutely bonkers, growling, snarling and trying to bite the vacuum cleaner. The 'Foots always ran away from it, so I was trying to get her to back off while not stopping the vacuum. All of a sudden, Littlefoot charged into the room and laid into Little Miss. I'm not sure why he thought she was a threat to anything but the vacuum, but they were really going at it. There was a lot of snarling, a few yips, tons of big flashing teeth and overall just a very adrenalin-inducing 30-45 seconds.

For all that I may bitch about Littlefoot being a long-haired, double-coated dog, that coat proved incredibly handy today. I took three steps to get around behind him, grabbed two giant handfuls of fur and yanked. The minute I separated the two of them, he calmed down and she hid behind my leg, trembling. I put him outside, and it wasn't until I'd been petting her for a bit that I noticed there was blood all over my hand and my leg. Littlefoot had gone across the top of her nose and nailed her on both cheeks, and dog faces bleed just as profusely as human faces, so it took a little bit of time to get her cleaned up. When I'd done so, I put her out and let him in, and she'd gotten in a shallow slice on top of his ear, which was also bleeding like mad. I got him cleaned up and felt like collapsing, but then Mom called and said she was on her way.

Mom and Dad spent the afternoon here. Mom helped out with the cleaning and furniture moving, and Dad installed my new ceiling fan/light fixture. It's amazing to have a fan with more than one speed, and truly luxurious to have a ceiling fixture that actually provides real light. As long as the JammiesFest attendees don't bring white gloves, we should be okay.

Oh, and all future vacuuming will be done with Little Miss outside on the chain!

Puppeh pictures!

Someday, there will be pictures.

For right now, my few loyal readers get stories.

Little Miss Smoky has fit herself right into the household. She still needs some reinforcement to not jump on or paw at people, but she's a sweet and loving little girl. Littlefoot got in her face twice on Saturday and got snapped at for his pains, so he's being very nonchalant toward her and very needy to make sure I still love him just as much as I always did.

I don't know that Little Miss has ever had toys to play with. I do know that since I gave her one of the toys and then didn't scold her when she found the toybox Monday evening that she has been very happily occupied most of the time since. She has had every toy out at least once, and while she shows a marked fondness for the rope toys, she likes the squeaky ones too. The only ones I will have to add to the banned list are tennis balls--I came home last night to a study full of quarter-sized pieces which took me a good half hour to clean up.

She's really good about telling me when she needs to go outside, and if I put her out when she hasn't asked to go, she will sit on the top step and sulk until I let her back in.

Tonight was her first visit with Dr. Mark. She weighs 43.8 pounds, and Mark thinks she could stand to gain three to five more pounds. He's pretty sure she's a shep mix, and the only reason she looks slightly Rott-ish is that her head is too big for her frame. She's also got some very dry skin from slightly substandard nutrition, and she got her first kennel cough vaccine tonight. The receptionist working tonight said Little Miss looks like Bigfoot.

After the vet visit, we went out to see Plaid Jammies. She was scared of him at first, but slowly thawed out. At least she didn't growl at him the way she did with Dr. Mark. Dad was supposed to have a quiet bachelor week, what with Mom being up at the lake with my nevvies. Unfortunately, something has happened to the electrical system at the lake house, and Dad was going to head up there as soon as Smoky and I left. Since there were some really violent thunderstorms going on tonight, I think I'll go call and make sure he got there safely.

The house is still a pit, the study is still a half-painted wreck, I am NOT ready for JammiesFest and there are pictures of Little Miss on the camera waiting for me to download them. Hopefully, everything will be taken care of by July 10th!

A New Addition to La Familia de Jammies

Please welcome Smoky Moon. I don't have any pictures of my own yet, so these are the ones from



Petfinder.

Doc went with me today to pick up Smoky. I'm keeping the name she already had, and adding a middle name so she knows when she's in trouble. Smoky Moon is the BPAL perfume I didn't get so I could afford the adoption fee, and she's totally worth it. There has been surprisingly little conflict with Littlefoot, just a bit of snapping when she thought he was trying too hard. She's adorable, and it's hard to understand why she was given to the pound by her former owner all of three days after Christmas. She's just about a year old, and although her foster owner called her a Shepherd mix, the jerk who surrendered her said she was a Rottweiler/Lab mix. I hope she has some Shep in her for the longevity, because I want to have her around for a long time.

We spent about twenty minutes in full sun at Pawprint Paradise so Smoky could get comfortable with me, and bless her heart, Doc didn't blink once at doing it. Then she drove home so I could sit in the back seat with Smoky, who fell asleep with her head on my shoulder at one point. There will be more pictures and plenty of stories, but right now, I wanted everyone to know that I once more am owned by two dogs.

Silver and gold, silver and gold

Silver and gold, silver and gold
Dude, this stuff is ug-leee
Silver and gold wallpaper
Is gone from my li-brar-eee!

Just a little reminder from me to me about why all my books are in boxes, my house is a wreck, my neck hurts and my hands are wrinkly old-lady hands tonight:

Before:





There will be "after" pictures when there is an after, but first there will be a wee paws in transmissions from KJAMZ, as my computer will need to be disconnected and moved this weekend. It is possible but not probable that Dad will have my new-to-me laptop ready by then, so my few readers should be prepared for radio silence.

Nothin' to Say

Night lets you down
Wonder and wander
There's no one around
Nothing to say now, nothing to do
I can feel my heart breaking
And it's all 'cause of you
Nothing to say now, nowhere to hide
I can feel my heart breaking
All the love left inside

"Nothing to Say" by Chris Isaak

I dreamed about Bigfoot Sunday night--he was leaning on my right leg as he loved to do while I was on the phone with the vet hospital, where someone kept saying to me that euthanasia is not reversible.

*sigh*

Somebody's Got Some 'Splainin' to Do!

Today was pretty much craptastic from the get-go. The drains in my driveway and inside the garage were blocked with maple keys and mulch that had washed out of the flower beds, so after a night of heavy rain, the garage flooded to a depth of about 4 inches before I managed to get out there and squidge around clearing the drains. There wasn't much in the garage that could be spoiled by muddy water, but my folding chairs got drenched and I can't even wash them and set them outside because it's still freaking raining.

On my way into work this morning, I discovered that some genius at ODOT thought that 8 a.m. on a weekday would be a perfect time to close the center lane of one of the main highways leading into Cleveland. A 35-yard lane closure backed traffic up seven miles and I wound up having a stress headache and being more than an hour late to work.

When I finally got to work, I discovered an error in the index for the book I was planning to build early and discovered that two of the people not in Cleveland that I nonetheless work closely with and like very much are both taking the voluntary separation offer and leaving in the next year. :(

The drive home was hideous, with lousy visibility and slow driving. The garage had drained, but to quote Jeff Foxworthy, "It stinks very much bad in there." However, I discovered a box in front of my side door from Blue Ridge Daylilies, containing a Big Foot lily plant. I haven't decided where I will plant it, but I will put the stepping stone Bigfoot and I made in front of it, wherever it goes.

Thank you very much to whoever sent this, and please 'fess up.

Confession received--it was my lovely friend Mouse from the Lush forum. Thank you, my fellow gardener who is also owned by furkids! <3

The dog I looked at is meeting a family today, so while I am sorry that I missed the opportunity, I hope she finds her forever home.

In which we taunt an International Toe Porn Superstar

Spunky hangs out here and there are pictures here and here.

As an international sock-porn-writing superstar, I felt the need to mock and then out-do Spunky's pedicure (that orange-red is so last fall).

First I tried Nfu.Oh's #65, a silver holographic:



The holo is mesmerizing close-up, but doesn't really make me smile while I'm doing my water-walking or when I'm taking a bath or wearing sandals at work, so that one only lasted about a week.

I decided that if I was going to outshine Ms. Spunky, I needed something creative, clever and cute. I remembered a conversation between two fellow BPALettes, Yvaine and Girlygirl, and decided to try what the latter called "a fruiticure." I used OPI Holy Pink Pagoda, FingerPaints Art Dealer Teal-er and China Glaze Evening Seduction.



Awesomest toenail polish I have ever had!

How to have incredibly smooth yet furry legs

In a warm shower, scrub legs with a clean-rinsing sugar scrub, such as Julphia's Whipped Sugar Scrub or Skindecent's Body Buffer. Rinse well.

Cover legs with shaving cream or bath butter. Shave with a good razor (even if it's not the one you loved for so many years). Rinse again.

Scrub a second time with an oilier scrub, making sure to scrub your heels and toes. Rinse very well.

Finish your shower, and before drying legs completely, smooth on a body glaze, massage bar, dry oil spray or body butter.

Wrap a towel around yourself and run to answer the phone. Tell the siding salesman he's an asshole. Hang up phone, turn around and trip over needy dog in the middle of blowing coat. Ta-da! You now have the smoothest, furriest legs around.

Aquatic Snobservations

Before the snobservations, one big cheer for the older man in my class who's there every single Saturday, doing the exercise the best he can manage before he has his second open-heart surgery. Yay Bill!

To all of the older ladies: if you've got fat on your back, don't wear a low-backed swimsuit. I'm not slamming anyone for being overweight, and I know that most of us have batwing arms, but I don't want to watch your backbacon jiggle when you're walking in front of me.

To some of the younger ladies: there is a difference between body art and white trash tattoos. Body art is exactly that, art. It's executed with skill and clarity. You should have saved up and gone for one good piece instead of getting ten or twelve blurry things that look like '90s clip art.

To the yakkers: it's nice that you're there with a friend. I enjoy Monday and Wednesday night classes just a little bit more because my mom is there with me. You will notice, however, that we do not walk slowly next to each other, so absorbed in chatting that we can't make room for faster people to walk around us. You make me want to channel my inner Jack Butler and yell "Pickups to the south, drop-offs to the North!"

To the lady who spent Wednesday's night's class humming: JUST STOP IT! That was so incredibly irritating I can't even think of something scathing to say. Save it for the shower!

To the skinny fake-blonde with the fake tan: I'm a petty, petty person, and I loved that you got turned away from the class when you showed up ten minutes late and were told you can't join the class when everyone already has their heart rate up. Oh, and I if I were you, I wouldn't wear a hot pink bikini, or any bikini for that matter, until I lost that little potbelly. I notice you haven't bothered to try to join us again, so good luck.

And to my beloved mother: I am doing this class three times a week, and I'm proud of myself. It's the first exercise program I have ever stuck with. I go even when you can't, and in two months, the only class I've missed was the night Stormdog died. Please do not nag me any more about lifting the weights you gave me for Christmas (and let's don't get started on my feelings about that) or adding in more and tougher classes at the Nat. I swear, the next time you say something, I'm going to splash water all over that what-color-is-your-hair-anyway 'do and yell something reminiscent of my horrible adolescence. I love you, but don't push. Please.

And in the non-snobby vein, I love this class, and I love that everyone gets out there and works his or her hardest to do what the instructors ask of us. Whether we're a big galloping herd of a class or a small but mighty one, I've never seen anyone who isn't trying. Yay us!

Thank you all

for the love and support. I suspect I'm still a little bit in denial or something--I haven't cried at all since Monday night, and I feel sort of insulated from everything. Littlefoot didn't eat anything between Monday night and Thursday morning, but he's back to being his chowhound self. He's not straying more than six feet from me, not even to go sleep on my bed, which used to be his favorite spot in the world. Tomorrow, I have to go pick up Stormdog's ashes before I go to my water-walking class, and then I have to decide where I will keep them.

Probably in the study, because that's where I am most of the time, but I could also just move them around to all of the sunny spots in the house throughout the day.

Anyway, thanks to everyone who has supported me in this.

Bigfoot’s Last Day

Monday, May 11, 2009.

I stayed home from work today to be with Bigfoot and so he didn’t have to spend his last day in a cold concrete basement. I let him sleep in, offered him a breakfast he didn’t want, and made sure to massage behind his ears every time I passed him. The morning was quiet, and I did laundry and archived books, and Bigfoot mostly slept.

Around 10:30, I decided to make the concrete stepping stone with his pawprints, so I got out my bucket, the concrete mix, my letters for imprinting and started. I think I got the concrete mixed correctly, so hopefully it will come out of the mold tomorrow. I let the poured concrete sit for 30 minutes, then put it on a flat pan and carried it into the bedroom, where Bigfoot was sleeping. I picked up one of his paws and placed it in the center of the stepping stone, and Bigfoot woke up and was not at all happy. He pulled his paw out and glared at me. I tried again and this time he got up and left the room, leaving little concrete footprints on the floor.

I picked up the pan, followed him into the kitchen, smoothed out the marks and put the pan in the middle of the floor. I got the pig ears out, and bribed Bigfoot while I tried to make him stand on the concrete. What I have are two blurry impressions that won’t look very much like pawprints to anyone else, but will always remind me of how stubborn and self-willed my darling dog was. Plus, there’s some dog hair embedded in it, so if cloning ever become inexpensive…

After he’d finished his pig ear, I cleaned off his paws and let him go outside to sulk in the sunshine for a while. When he came back in, we both took a nap. I laid down on the floor beside him and rubbed his belly and his ears and told him how much I loved him.

At 4:30, I took a quick shower and put Bigfoot outside. When I was clean and dressed and made up, I let him in and put Littlefoot out, then I put Bigfoot in the car. I let Littlefoot back in and gave him a treat to distract him, then headed out with Bigfoot.

About halfway to the vet’s office, Bigfoot got himself wedged between the back seat and the back of the driver’s seat and couldn’t turn around. I stopped at a gas station and freed him, then went on to the vet hospital.

I took the urn Megan made in with me, intending to leave it and ask the staff to give it to the crematorium guys.






I let Stormdog have a nice long sniff around the yard of the hospital and then took him inside. The two receptionists working tonight were the two I had always gotten along best with, and I got hugs from both of them. Stormdog got Bil-Jac treats, and Missy offered to send the rest of the box home for Littlefoot, but I declined because he’s always on a diet.

Dr. Bob wasn’t in, as he’d had a 103 degree fever since Thursday, but Dr. Mark was there, and I trust him. He and the techs were pumping the stomach of a dog who’d eaten most of a chocolate cake, so Bigfoot had time to sniff around the lobby and I had time to show Ellen and Missy the urn. They recommended I not leave it, but they offered to transfer Bigfoot’s ashes for me if I can’t cope with doing it when they come back from the crematorium. I put Bigfoot on the scale, and his weight was 62.3 pounds. That sounds big, but at his healthiest, he was 80 pounds, so it’s a big weight loss.

Dr. Mark came upstairs and said hello to Bigfoot, then led us into the smaller exam room. He asked if I was okay with doing the shot upstairs rather than down in the surgery, and I was very pleased to avoid the surgery. I described Bigfoot’s recent symptoms, including the lethargy and what seemed to me to be partial paralysis. Dr. Mark said he was pretty sure Bigfoot had canine degenerative myelopathy, which is progressive and incurable. He also said the only good thing about it was that it’s not painful.

I sat on the floor next to my Stormdog and held him across my lap and in my arms. Missy came in and stayed with us as the tech swabbed Bigfoot’s leg with alcohol. I told him over and over how much I loved him as Dr. Mark slid the needle in and depressed the plunger. I laid my cheek on the top of his head and my right hand over his chest and just told him what an amazing, wonderful dog he was until I felt his heart stop. Dr. Mark warned me that there would be a final gasp, and there was. Everyone left the room, and I sat there with Bigfoot in my arms, petting the velvet fur and breathing in his scent. One of the many things I loved about him was that he never smelled bad unless he was soaking wet, and the smell of his fur was always warm and clean. Eventually, Ellen and Missy came in and put him on the stretcher to take him downstairs. I kissed him goodbye for the last time, and came home.

After hugging Littlefoot and letting him know how much I loved him, I got online and looked up CDM. I found one website stating unequivocally that CDM is the canine version of MS, and although Wikipedia was more restrained, it sure looks like it to me. Right to the end, Bigfoot was with me in everything.

Goodbye, darling dog. I will always love you.

RIP, my heartdog

Thunderstorm, aka Stormy, aka Bigfoot.

January, 1994 to May, 2009

When you can't nap, bubble-wrap!

Okay, it's silly, but it broke the tension when my cubicle neighbor was having a wretched day with one of his books. He had just said that he was trying not to throw his pen at the window, so I offered him some bubble wrap I had for a package for a friend. All I had was just the kind with the little bubbles--he had a piece of the industrial-strength stuff in his desk, and he took a few minutes to pop the last of them and he went back to wrestling with his book feeling at least marginally better, either from the silliness or the destructiveness.

Not even bubble wrap could keep me from coming home today with a severe stomachache. Bigfoot continues to have one step forward, two step back days and two of my coworkers are making me nuts, and this stupid task force I'm on is complicating what should be a very simple process into something with its own website and forms and all sorts of silly hooha.

Other than water-walking tomorrow morning and working for Mom on Sunday, I will be spending this weekend quietly at home with my dogs. I'm so frazzled I can't even remember what clothes I wore to work today and if I put on perfume!

ETA: I want to thank everyone for the love and support. It helps.

And juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust to make a liar of me...

Bigfoot is frisking around like a puppy (granted, a puppy with lousy hips), asking for thirds on dinner, picking playfights with Littlefoot, jumping up on the bed to soak the comforter with doggy-scented rainwater and rolling over for bellehrubs.

I love seeing him like this, but now I'm really damned if I know what to do.

Second thoughts, third thoughts, fourth thoughts...

Bigfoot hasn't been a happy dog for a while now. He's not obviously in pain, he's not crying any more than usual, he's just extra quiet and sort of resigned. I've made an appointment for Monday evening with Dr. Bob, and there's a pretty good chance that I'll decide to have my heartdog put to sleep. I still keep worrying, though, that I'm doing the wrong thing. I don't want to tie him to life if he's ready to go, but if he's not ready, then I will be killing one of the best things that has ever happened to me. And it's not as if I can change my mind when it's done. I'm so scared that I'll do the wrong thing for Bigfoot.

So pastoral...

It is, of course, gardening time. I would be posting nine zillion pictures of my garden if I hadn't loaned my camera to Vintage Attorney for the weekend. This lack of a camera is also why I have not followed up on my toenail polish challenge to Spunky, the Queen of Toe Porn. As soon as I have my camera back, though, I plan to show that there are prettier polishes out there and no one needs to settle for orange.

Yesterday was busy but fun. Doc joined me for water-walking, then we sat in the whirlpool (not the hot tub) for a bit and yakked. After we'd dried and dressed, we went to an AutoZone parking lot, where I handed the fugly old ceiling fan/light fixture from the study to a gentleman who handed me $25 in cash. After that, we went to Mariachi Loco for lunch, and then to Temptation Nursery. I used the cash from the ceiling fan to buy two Snow-in-Summer, three Munstead lavender and a Purple Dragon Lamium. I will be going back to TN repeatedly over the summer, as I need more lamium, more lavender, some foxglove and whatever else I can afford. Doc has to go back too, because she didn't have her checkbook and TN doesn't take plastic. She's planning to follow in my footsteps and take her mom there to pick out a Mother's Day present anyway, so that's good.

On the subject of my title line, recently I looked out the back door on a sunny day. As those of you who have visited me know, the back yard sweeps down to the north property line, and although it's mostly weeds, it is very green at this time of year. As I looked, I could see a fluffy thing peacefully cropping the green grass under the bright blue sky. It was a scene that demanded the music from a Ralph and Sam short. If anyone knows the name of that piece of music, please let me know--I'm pretty sure it's by Grieg, but can't remember and can't find the name!

Anyway, the fluffy thing eating grass was not a sheep, but my beloved and not all that smart Littlefoot.

Walkyblog*

At 3:30 Saturday morning, I woke up with a migraine. I had about 30 seconds to think, "Couldn't this have waited 24 hours?" before I had to barf. I took a hot shower and half-dozed in my recliner until 6, when the pain was worse but the nausea was better. I had another hot shower, let the dogs in and out, took 2 ibuprofen and tried to drink a little bit of coffee. When that didn't stay down, I gave up and got dressed and just sat quietly until it was time to leave to meet Mom.

I dropped my car off for an oil change and Mom picked me up and we headed for Blossom, where the walk was taking place. We were so early that we managed to walk the 1.25 mile route twice before they officially opened the event. Mom was getting coffee and bagels, and I was taking cautious sips of water and washing down 2 T3s when the DJ from WKDD welcomed everyone and introduced our state representative, who worked with me at Hyphenated Corp. until he got elected. He and Mom have a friend in common, so I introduced them and we talked for a bit. Then the local high school marching band arrived, and Mom and I stayed to listen to one song and then headed out.

The bit I forgot earlier, which I also blame on the drugs:

I try to be a reasonably nice and tactful person, but I blew that when Mom and I were getting into her car. A woman in a minivan had just pulled in to the space next to Mom and was unloading her pre-teen daughter and an adorable and very rambunctious 9- or 10-month old golden retriever puppy. The puppy jumped up on me, and I ruffled his ears and said, "Aren't you a cute boy, but aren't you going to get in trouble for jumping on me?" The woman glared at me and said, "Yes, he is." I apologized for rewarding him for being bad, which was ALSO the wrong thing to say, and she hauled him off with her kid after glaring at me again.

My car was ready, so Mom waited while I stopped in the office and paid the bill, and then I talked her into going to what Sherri calls "Temptations Nursery," which had just opened for the spring/summer season. I made Mom pick out her Mother's Day present, and she chose a beautiful Martha Washington geranium with deep purple petals edged in white. For someone who was awfully reluctant to "waste time" at the nursery, she sure enjoyed looking when we got there!

By then the T3s were kicking in, so we dropped my car off at my house and drove in to the office. We balanced an accounting, I checked the phone messages, went through the mail and did the rest of my weekly stuff, and then Dad came in to install the new printer for the assistants' desk. He also brought me 2 Phenergan to help with the nausea that was still bothering me. By the time Dad was done, we'd been there for 4 hours, and Mom brought me home. I went to bed shortly after letting the dogs out, and Mom washed some more wallpaper paste off walls. I never even heard her leave. I woke up around six with a headache but not a migraine, and was glad to call it a day.

On Sunday, I ran up and down the stairs doing laundry and painted my toenails. The stairs after the walk on Saturday weren't quite enough exercise to keep my muscles from protesting strenuously tonight at water-walking, but I still made it through the whole hour.

*joke that only Zayrina may get.

Yes, for you...

Sorry for the Spam and other random ramblings

If you're my friend on Goodreads, sorry for the giant e-mail with the 168 books I added to my shelves tonight. I'm down to The Last Shelf of Books, which I plan to add and pack tomorrow night.

If you're not my friend on Goodreads, why not? :P I'm Jammies there, too.

It's been a busy week at work. I got a $15 gift card for Starbucks as a reward for taking on an extra project and doing a good job, and won one of the reserved parking spaces in a random drawing. Still, I have felt like a guinea pig on a hamster wheel--I don't fit, I don't know where I'm going, and I never seem to get there.

The water-walking is really going well. I'd have to say that this is the first time I've felt that I have an exercise plan I can stick with. This Saturday will mark the first class I will miss on one of the three days I tell myself to go every week. Of course, that's because this Saturday, Mom and I will be doing the 3-mile MS Walk, followed by working together for 4 hours. Then we'll come back here and she's planning to take the rest of the wallpaper off the study walls and I am going to take a nap!

One thing that occurred to me on my way home tonight: it's still very weird to me to see a Roadway semi cab hauling Yellow trailers. Plaid Jammies worked for Roadway most of the time we were growing up, and Yellow was the big bad rival. Roadway was a pretty good employer--there were company picnics, a kickass health plan, lots of things that made it a great company for Dad to work for back then. Of course, it may just have been the times and all companies in the '70s and '80s had that level of care for their employees, but it's pretty much gone from everywhere these days.

Right now, however, I'm only interested in huffing my wrists to smell my gorgeous dandelion BPAL and heading off to bed.

Push the button, Max!

I had forgotten how much I enjoy watching The Great Race. Dad bought a copy recently, and we watched it when my brother, SIL and the boys were up for Easter last weekend. Dad's favorite scene is the pie fight, and the boys loved the whole movie. Mom said they were saying "Push the button, Max!" all day on Sunday. I'm pretty sure that the "Austrian Folly" detour on The Amazing Race. One of my favorite shows paying tribute to one of my favorite movies--perfect!

Happy Easter!

Busy in a good way.

If you were to look objectively at my schedule for the next 90 days, it wouldn't look as if I had a lot of work. I'm responsible for maybe 4 books in the next three months. However, because two of my co-workers are out, I've been picking up the slack on several books that are not on my list, and have been cramming work into my workdays.

I've gotten all kinds of warm appreciation from the attorney editor whose books I'm doing, which is nice. I've also asked my team to let me know if I seem to be having more cognitive lapses than usual. Despite the fact that I have lived with tingling in my hands and feet since September of 2003, my neuro decreed that my GP hadn't given me a high enough dose of Neurontin and I should try it again, slowly increasing the dose until I'm up to 400 mgs/day.

The catch? One of the potential side effects is cognitive problems. I'm trying it because there's an inexpensive generic, but I have to wonder why my neuro is deciding that even though there's nothing he can prescribe for my cognitive problems I need a med for a symptom I've lived with for almost six years.

Speaking of doctors, I went to make my annual appointment with Hot Doctor for my girly parts checkup and found out that he has gone to a different practice. Okay, he's worth following. Then I found out that he is now in practice with the doctor who thought my request for a hysterectomy should be answered with "When you lose weight, you'll be pretty and normal, and you might meet Mr. Right and want to have his babies. I cannot allow you to do this." Aargh. I went ahead and set the appointment, specifically requesting a time when she is NOT there. We'll see. It's been two years, but it still bugs me.

Oh, and a work funny: I made parmesan and basil scones on Sunday and took them into work on Monday. I was walking past the Big Boss's office on my way to the bathroom and heard her say to someone on the phone, "Do you like basil? Jammies just brought in some really delicous scones." *blush* About twenty minutes later, I got an e-mail from a co-worker at the Rochester office saying "I hear you make a mean scone."

My answer? "They're not mean, they're just misunderstood." I kill me.

Two women, five degrees, one combination lock...

and the lock defeated both of us.

Mom had a horrible day, I had a bleah-ish Monday, and we both really needed our workout tonight. I am really pleased with the water walking, and I think that this is something I can stick with. I'm also offering guest memberships to JammiesFest attendees for any nights that my water class is held while I have guests. I won't skip my class, but I'll be happy to share the Natatorium!

The one good thing that happened today was that when I turned in my 2009 goals, my team lead said that she'd like to copy one of them and put it on everyone's goals AND she didn't change a single word. Yay me!

Oh, and Mom's going to ask Dad to get a key lock for our locker, lol.

More ow-inna-good-way

As usual, Mom and I underestimated the amount of prep work my study will need before it can be painted. She and I worked together Saturday morning, then came over here to get started. I archived and boxed books, Mom moved boxes and bookshelves and tore down wallpaper, and Dad came over to remove the pretty-but-essentially-lightless ceiling fan. Dad kept telling me what a good quality piece it was, but at a maximum of 4 25-watt bulbs hidden behind white glass, it didn't give off nearly enough light. So it's boxed up and awaiting either sale or donation. I've decided on my paint colors, based on the blue-and-white of Delft-style china, and I'm down to the last two shelving units. I boxed up almost 400 books this weekend, and may do some more tonight (although I should in fact be putting away laundry).

Yesterday, in sunny Dallas, it was 38 degrees and the Mathgeek-Crossword family did the MS Walk. I have a lovely picture of Bookworm Mathgeek wearing her free t-shirt as a scarf, and one of Tinkerbell and Princess Mathgeek all wrapped up and sitting in a little red wagon. Thank you, my wonderful family. <3

Tomorrow is headless chicken day at work, but I have water walking to look forward to, and afterwards I will either finish up the book-boxing or actually put the laundry away!

Ow in a good way

I started a new exercise program last night, and I think it's one I can stick with for a long time. Hyphenated Corp will reimburse employees for a one-year gym or health club membership, so I joined the city natatorium. Last night, I went to my first water walking class, and I'm really impressed. I worked every single muscle in my legs and most of the rest of my muscles, had so much fun and worked so hard the hour just flew by, and got to indulge my waterbaby Cancerian otterish side. I'm now thinking about investing in a more sportish swimsuit. The one I have is cute and flattering, but the tank-style top doesn't restrain my built-in flotation devices as well as a T-strap top would.

A big advantage to the water exercise is that the cognitive effects aren't the only MS-related problems I've been having. When I saw my neuro last month, my balance was so bad after the first few tests that the nurse skipped the final balance test. In the water, if I fall over, I'm not going to hurt myself, so I felt safe in trying everything. I do need to work on my jogging/fast walking, because I noticed last night that the minute I speed up my pace, I start using my toes instead of my whole foot. I think next week I will slow down until hitting heel first is completely habitual and then I will start speeding up. Even if this is the only way I ever jog, that's no reason to get into bad habits!

The only thing I didn't do was quack during one of the exercises. For now, I will save my quacking for when I am among friends.

Color me weird

but I just can't allow my clothing to be uncoordinated. Last night, I wore a grey satin nightgown to bed. This morning, I put my red sleestak from Mallie over it and pulled on some red socks. I had to go down to the basement to start the laundry, and I couldn't make myself put on purple or blue or green slippers. I had to spend five minutes looking under the bed and in the closet for my red slippers. Then, when I got as dressed as I ever do on a day when I'm not leaving the house, I had on dark purple sweatpants and a light purple fleece top, so I had to change my socks and my slippers.

It's just a Jammies thing.

Thanks, Lush

My tax refund order arrived last night, and I unpacked and put away most of my things and set aside Maresche's items to take to work today. Somehow, I missed a little sample of Herbalism, which I noticed this morning when I was folding up all the packing paper. I set it on the shelf unit which runs the length of the back wall of the breezeway, intending to try it tomorrow morning.

As much as I love Lush's bubble bars and ballistics, I've been resistant to getting into their face care because it's so very expensive and I have very odd skin, oily yet flaky, with overlarge pores. Still, I was going to try the Herbalism.

Tonight, when I got home from work, I let Bigfoot out and fed Littlefoot, then let Littlefoot out and fed Bigfoot. When they were both fed and I had changed out of my work clothes, I ran out to the curb to get the mail and bring in the trash can and recycling bin. In the two minutes that took, Bigfoot found my sample and decided Herbalism was a nice dessert. Since the sample was about two ounces, I'm not too worried about the nettle irritating his innards. However, the kaolin may prove to be a bit of a constipator for the old man.

So thanks, Lush, but I won't be trying your skin care this time around.

Monday blues

Warning: seriously whiny post ahead.

My headache from yesterday is still with me, and it has been joined by dizziness, because headaches hate to be alone.

I took on a new project at work, and did most of it well, but I did manage to get a little tangled up in my underwear and submit one request twice and one not at all.

Tomorrow, I will be representing the family at a memorial service for a father of young children who was just barely older than me.

I thought that starting my seeds would be good therapy, but I can't find the fricking peat pots I was going to put them in.

A nap sounds lovely, but I know that if I do that this late, I'll be up half the night and my sleep schedule is screwed up enough as it is, thanks to stooooopid DST.

*whine*

So close I can smell it!

This morning, I took Plaid and Flannel Jammies to the airport. They're in Dallas now, visiting with the Mathgeek-Crossword family. I stopped at the bank, then came home, made lunch, cleaned the bathroom and took a nap.

After dinner, it was warm enough for me to spend twenty minutes outside clearing last year's leaves from the glads and petting the daffodil and grape hyacinth shoots. Tomorrow, I am hoping for more warm weather so I can rake last year's leaves out of the front flower beds. The garden catalogs have me drooling, and Cochran's Nursery is showing signs of getting ready to open. I'm ready to garden!

Sign of the (bad) times

I was one of many folks who were late to work today, owing to a huge traffic tie-up caused by 5,000 people trying to get to a job fair near my office.

Video and story.

Ironically, today was the day my probation at work ended. I've still got to be careful and triple-check everything so that my cognitive problems don't cost me my job, but I do have one.

Shameless begging

Please sponsor me for this year's MS Walk. Flannel Jammies will be walking with me for the first time ever, and while I'm sorry that she won't be in Texas to see Princess Mathgeek turn six, I'm glad we'll have the chance to walk together.

Please let me know if anyone is doing a local MS Walk, and I'll add your fundraising link here if you'd like.

The good news, the bad news, and the worst news

The good news is that I'm not imagining things, I'm not crazy, and I'm not being over-dramatic.

The bad news is that I'm not imagining things, I'm not crazy, and I'm not being over-dramatic.

The neuropsych testing shows a significant gap between my intelligence and my recall and speed of processing. It's more than likely that it's secondary to the MS.

So now I need to learn how to manage all this and still stay employed.

The worst news is that one of my dearest friends was just diagnosed with MS. I hate this damn disease.

Woodchuck for lunch--YUM!

My almost-9 year old nephew got his purple belt in Tae Kwon Do on Saturday. Mom and Dad and I drove down to watch him do his test, break his boards and get his new belt. Then we went out to lunch with the entire Pickypants family, and I discovered that you can now get Woodchuck cider in Ohio. It was wonderful, and exactly the right beverage with my filet mignon sandwich.

The Book From Hell went to Manufacturing yesterday, which is good. This morning, I got the results from my neuropsych testing, and I'm still trying to process them. I'll write more when I have a handle on what it means for and to me.

One thing related to this morning's appointment:

I don't mind when people correct me when I use the wrong word or something similar, especially not now, when I'm grappling with cognitive issues and have caught myself using a completely wrong word in e-mails or in conversation. I also don't mind having my pronunciation corrected. I have what I call "oldest child syndrome," by which I simply mean that I read a lot as a kid and didn't have older siblings to tell me when I was saying things wrong. I think I was in fifth or sixth grade when I found out that "suicidal" was not pronounced "soo-iss-iddle."

I do mind when I've been running around using the wrong word and making myself look like an idiot and no one tells me. I've been saying "neuropathy" to mean the tingling in my hands and feet since September of 2003, when it started and the resident at my doctor's office called it that. This morning, my neurologist told me that what is going on with me is not neuropathy, as that is a specific syndrome which can have tingling as a side effect. I wish he'd corrected me five years ago! Sheesh.

The Book From Hell Saga Continues

The Book From Hell got more hellish yesterday. The attorney editor (someone I ordinarily enjoy working with and with whom I have a pretty good rapport) decided to start the pub review after a recruiting trip to a local college campus and before eating lunch, so he was tired and extremely cranky.

He decided the book needed to be rescheduled for early April.

Our immediate supervisor hit the roof because that would push it into the second quarter and our team already has a three-volume book that has been moved out of the first quarter.

At that point, I didn't care. My hard part was done. I'll build the book when I'm told to, with such changes as I am told to make.

By late afternoon, everyone had eaten something and was apologizing to everyone else; the supervisor said we can push it back by 2 days and still get it out by the end of March; the attorney editor realized I'd done a better job than he thought and the review wasn't going to take a week; and the authors weren't going to get to see the page proofs.

Enigman stayed late last night and finished his review of volume 1. I got all his changes made by noon, and told him to go get some lunch and I'd do volume 2 when he was finished with it. The authors promised to be good little boys and return any changes in two days, so when I completed all the changes, I sent .pdf files to Enigman and he was going to pass them on to the authors. The book will build on Wednesday instead of Monday, and then it will be out of our hair until next year.

*whew*

The First Quarter Book From Hell

Two volumes.

Two authors.

Two MS Word documents.

NO markings on last year's copy as to where the new copy goes.

Late manuscript from both authors.

It's my first full annocode book.

It's supposed to be built on Monday and I just got the page proofs to the attorney editor for his publication review today. The authors are going to have until 9 a.m. Monday morning to review the proofs and sign off on them.

Or not. Right now, I have a feeling this book is going to manufacturing whether they like it or not, because if it doesn't go Monday, it doesn't generate any first quarter income.

Oh, but I did win a bag of Milano cookies today. Woo.

*Been around the world

and I, I can't find my froggie. :(

The cute little croaking froggie keychain Sherri disappeared from my keys some time between Thursday morning and Friday night, and has not been seen since. It's a cold, cruel world out there, and he will not be a happy froggie. Plus, I am not a happy Jammies without my froggie!

Mom and I did have fun Friday night at a local production of "A Midsummer Night's Dream." The daughter of a friend of hers played Hermia, and it was a really good production. The young woman playing Helena really made me think of the version of AMND that appeared in the Pibgorn strip, especially with her facial expressions. My only two snobservations were that A. The guy playing Lysander was about the last person I'd pick for any kind of love interest, and the guy playing Oberon was too pale, dark-haired and potbellied to be appearing onstage shirtless. Pleh!

Stitches come out first thing tomorrow morning, and if I didn't have a book to build, I'd be very tempted to take the day off and wallow in the bath tub. But I do, so I shall have to postpone my first celebratory bath until Monday night. If you need to talk to me, do it today or do it Tuesday. ;)


*sincere apologies to Lisa Stansfield!

It's what I didn't say...

(song title from Saving Jane)

aka Medical Snobservations

When the dermatologist had me sign a waiver saying I knew there would be a scar and I wouldn't sue because of it, I thought but didn't say, "Well, there goes the Playboy shoot."

When he said, "No heavy bending, stretching, or lifting," I thought but didn't say, "Damn, and the new pole was just installed!"

I mentioned last November that I'd seen kind of an odd license plate. Today, I saw one that said IN2BATE. The owners thereof just have to be related.

Monday was 5 hours of neuropsych testing with a one-hour "break" for lunch, during which time I did the 344 question MMPI questionaire. Apparently, there isn't a website anywhere which will tell you what "Raymond Kertecz" and "archery and stamp collecting" mean. Irritating. They probably still won't tell me when I get my results on March 5th.

One small victory for English majors, though. One of the questions on the verbal general knowledge quiz was "Who wrote Faust?"

My answer?

"Well, it started out as a German folktale, then Christopher Marlowe wrote a play, Goethe wrote a novel (I was wrong about that, he wrote a play as well) and someone did an opera.

Perhaps I can't remember to send an e-mail to Codes when I need to, but I can bygolly remember all kinds of useless stuff!

Day Three

No bath.

I think I'm dying. I'm beginning to hallucinate about Kohler tubs and deliveries of mountains of free bath products.

Just ask me--I'll tell you the passwords, the secret recipes, the name of the mole, anything.

All I want is a bath...

Ew, ew, ewwwwwwwwww

I had the cyst on my back removed today. It took about 90 minutes, and the doctor didn't listen to me when I said I didn't want to hear details, so I know that it was the size of a Ping-Pong ball, most of it under the skin, and that I now have 20 stitches. I did manage to keep him from (eeyurgh) showing it to me.

*sigh* No baths for two weeks. :(

Wishlist

I could use some retail therapy, but since I'm broke, I'm internet window-shopping.

I want this shirt; these socks in Geranium, Peacock, Purple Haze and Space Ocean; these socks in Nightshade and Waterfall; a sock zombie cat; a Konad Build Your Own Kit and a ton of Lush, Skindecent and BPAL.

And as long as I'm dreaming, I'd like a pony, too. ;)

Meh

I'm so freaking tired of being manic-depressive it's not even funny. Even with the Lexapro, I go from happy and bouncy (Tuesday) to utterly flat and meh (today). Of course, yesterday's little adventure combining standing-still traffic and a migraine didn't help any.

At least I will get my niece's birthday present mailed out tomorrow--it will wind up being just shy of a month late, but at least it will get there. I hope she still loves "Mickamouse."

Ack! Books and snow.

The thoughtful Zayrina sent her big snowstorm to Ohio, so I spent yesterday mostly in my recliner, checking e-mail from time to time and being glad I wasn't one of the very few brave souls who went in to the office. Apparently, Cleveland had a hard time getting and keeping the freeways clear, and the mayor suggested businesses start telling people to go home at 3 o'clock.

You'd think with an unexpected day off, I'd do something productive, but the fact is that I managed to pull a muscle over the weekend, which was pretty inhibiting in terms of boxing up books.

When the 'Foots go outside, I hook them up one at a time to a forty-foot airplane cable chain. They tend to wrap it around the well cap, and so I go out and unwrap it. Of course, when it's really cold, I usually stand on the back steps, pretend the cable is a jump rope, and "skip" it over the well cap. On Saturday, I turned the wrong way or something as I was doing that, and pulled the muscle that runs from my right armpit to the side of my right breast.

Yes, I sprained my boob.

This of course led to me not shoveling the driveway on Wednesday. I called the woman who used to plow out my driveway at the old place, and she's still doing that in the winter, so she came over and did a great job. Her family owns and operates an ice cream place in the summer, so plowing is her winter job.

In March, my mom and I are finally going to de-wallpaper and paint my study. In order to do this, I have to remove all of the books and bookshelves. Mom offered to help, but I usually tackle a project by working for half an hour, resting for half an hour, until the job is done. This would drive my Type-A mother absolutely librarian-poo.

However, given my current very sore state, I think I shall box up as many books as I can, and then ask Mom to bring over a dolly and help me move the boxes out of the room.

This is assuming I can get all of them boxed up. I keep noticing ones I'd like to re-read and realizing how very lazy I have been about listing them all on Goodreads.

If anyone would like to stop by and smack me, I could use the motivation.

Cute video

Let's see if this works:



And thanks to Cakewrecks, where I found it.

Lyrical snobservations

Dear Brian McKnight,

In regard to:

One
You're like a dream come true
Two
Just wanna be with you
Three
Girl it's plain to see
That you're the only one for me
Four
Repeat steps one through three
Five
Make you fall in love with me
If ever I believe my work is done
Then I start back at one

Those are not steps, you idiot. Those are statements. Go take remedial English.

Dear Everything but the Girl and Norah Jones,

In regard to:

And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain
And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain

and

Like the desert waiting for the rain
Like a school kid waiting for the spring
Im just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on

respectively.

You both fail geology, zoology and biology 101. Deserts do not "miss" or "wait for" rain. In the first place, deserts don't perform any actions, because they are places, not people. Secondly, deserts are full of plants and animals which are perfectly adapted to life with very little water. Rain or any other form of water is utilized, but life goes on without it and without the anticipation of it.

All of you need to go back to high school or hire better songwriters, damnit.

Thoughts for an inauguration

My team went out for lunch and watched the inauguration on the giant tvs at Damon's. Two of my co-workers played trivia through the whole thing. *eye roll*

There were five guys from either an automotive supply store or an auto shop at one of the tables behind us, and I kept hearing these big, loud, manly "I'm not gonna cry in public damnit" sniffles. It was so cute!

President Obama's speech was wonderful, but the clergyman who said the Lord's Prayer paused in the oddest places! I swear I thought he was channelling William Shatner. The poem didn't do anything for me--it seemed to have been written for an earlier time period.

I want this administration and my country to succeed as we start all over again.

A rug with Moses on it

The back story is here.

As a belated Christmas gift, TD sent me a bottle of Holiday Stress Relief bath oil from Black Phoenix Trading Post, and a surprise.

She had been told of the "mug with roses/rug with Moses" conversation, and was apparently looking for a latch-hook pattern to make me a rug. Thankfully, she couldn't find one, and commissioned Kogi to make me a mug, instead.

It is a mug with roses on it:


But SURPRISE! It's also a mug with Moses on it!




Truly a dream come true. :)

Yesterday

was a pretty good day. Bigfoot turned fifteen, I was snowed in for the day, and I got laundry and some tidying up done.

I don't think I'll keep one of the promises I made Bigfoot when he was a puppy, though. He used to jump from the back seat into the driver's seat of the car at every opportunity, and I told him I'd let him drive when he turned 16. If he makes it that far, I'll probably go back on my word.

Please let him make it that far...

I had to edit this to quote Zayrina's comment. "My afterlife will be spent throwing celestial tennis balls."

First of all, thank you, Z.

Second, I love the optimism and the thought behind that comment.

Third, I can picture you doing that with Allie and Ralph and all the rest.

Fourth, thank you again for the hope and the thought and the empathy.

From There to There to Here

The World's Best Heather sent me a lovely Christmas package, stuffed with treats for the dogs and for me. While I love all of it, I have to say that I was especially intrigued by the dark chocolate cocoa mix. TWBH is in Toronto, and I'm guessing she bought said cocoa somewhere in the Toronto area. The cocoa mix was made in Dallas, where the Crossword-Mathgeek family resides.

Small world (and I'm easily amused).

Happy New Year and all that jazz

No 2008 in review post for me. Much of the year sucked, and I'd rather be all Pollyannaish and just remember the good stuff, like the Disney Cruise and JammiesFest.

I don't do resolutions, but that doesn't mean I don't make up my mind to change or tackle things about my life. I just don't believe in setting myself up for failure with a hardline do-or-die goal. I do have an appointment with a dermatologist on Thursday, to see about the psoriasis on my elbows and what I think is probably a sebaceous cyst on my back. I have learned from my father not to look for solutions to psoriasis online. He gave up when he ran across two websites in a row stating that the only "cure" for it is prayer. I've also learned from the estimable Becs not to google sebacious cysts. If a woman with ten cats is grossed out by the results, I'm not going near that.

Mom and I worked yesterday morning on an accounting, then I went to the dentist for a cleaning, then home to pick up frantically before a co-worker arrived. Vintage Attorney bought two ugly '70s chairs from my mother, and they've been residing at my house since Christmas Eve. VA came down to pick them up, and she wanted a tour of Casa de Jammies because it is a classic midcentury ranch.

She loved the house, and even loved the oooooogly '70s Mylar wallpaper (I offered to peel it off and give it to her, but she didn't take me up on that), but what she loved most of all were the 'Foots.

Right before Christmas, VA had to have the older of her two dogs euthanized. Apparently, he looked pretty much like an all-black version of Bigfoot. When she met the dogs, Littlefoot was his usual charming, overgrown-puppy self, and Bigfoot surprised me. He is usually pretty standoffish with strangers, but he showed VA all the warmth and gentleness he can show me. He seemed to understand that she needed fuzz therapy especially from him, and he did his best to provide it. Of course, that kind of response always evokes a "Metoo metoo!" reaction in Littlefoot, so VA got swarmed with puppehlove the whole time we chatted.

Bigfoot has seemed slower and frailer the past week or so, and I'm just dreading what I know but can't believe in my heart will happen. He's fifteen now, and mortal like all of us, but I can't imagine that he'll leave me.

Okay, now I have to go hug my heartdog.

Edited to say that either Bigfoot is just feeling extra lovey these days or he's really being sensitive to moods. When I laid down for my nap today, he cuddled up behind my knees the way he used to, and didn't move until I woke up.

Presents!

I was insanely spoiled by friends and family this year--I got clothes, linens, candles and the softest scarf ever from Mom & Dad, Lush from my brother's family in Texas, Julphia bath stuff from friends, good coffee, homemade treats, chocolate, chocolate and more chocolate, cute fuzzy pants, books and a screwdriver set.

A word about the screwdriver set: every time Jay & Sherri visit, when Jay needs a screwdriver, he is always aghast at my extremely limited selection. Each time, I remind him that my screwdrivers tend to be annexed by my father, who sticks them in his toolbox and takes them home with him. So this year for Christmas, Jay and Sherri got me a mini tool set, which includes a handle and various screwdriver heads, all in black and hot pink!

Up at the lake, I told my folks about this, and said to Dad, "I know that you aren't going to walk off with a set of pink tools."

Dad looked at me and said, "Watch me." :)

Post-Christmas lassitude

Christmas was, as planned, just me and the folks and the dogs at the lake.

Unplanned was Bigfoot's reaction to being spoiled on Christmas--two attacks of diarrhea and one of vomiting.

On the plus side, Mom and I got in two lovely long walks and finished an accounting that has been bugging us. Mom & Dad both seemed happy with their gifts, and I was outrageously spoiled.

Littlefoot took the opportunity of our walks to dirty himself up so that he no longer looked as pretty as he did right after his bath. He's still wearing his "bandana," though, and smells pretty good for a dog.

On Christmas morning, Mom had put out stockings for Dad, myself and the 'Foots. While I was in the bathroom, Littlefoot strolled right up to his stocking and lifted out the rawhide chew. There's always one who can't wait for presents!

Happy Solstice!

It's nice to know that the days are once more getting longer. Of course, so are the lines leaving the shopping center nearest me, where I had to go buy a new tie-out chain for the 'Foots. *rolls eyes* I do wish people wouldn't make left-hand turns out of the back parking lot--I spent eleven minutes waiting for idiots who only thought that they'd skip a light and not about the fact that ALL of the traffic at two lights was against them.

Work was tiring today, even though it was entirely sedentary. I'm still not 100% over this chest cold, and it was a long day. By the time I got to PetSmart, I was doing a pretty good job of feeling sorry for myself. As the cashier rang me up, she asked, "So how are you doing today?" and I nearly said, "Crappy, thanks." Then a tiny bit of empathy poked its way out of the rocks in my head, and I thought, "I may have been sick, but I'm not working freaking retail three days before Christmas!"

Of course, at the speed it takes me to think these days, the chain had been rung up, my cash tendered and the change handed back to me.

So to Sharon, at the Chapel Hill PetSmart, thank you for asking, thank you for being cheerful, and I hope you have a wonderful holiday season. I wasn't being surly, I'm just slow.

Pity party

I'm seeck. I have a nasty chest cold that I am trying to keep from becoming bronchitis. As part of my effort to do this, I am giving up the two vacation days I was trying to hoard for next year in order to stay home the rest of this week. That means no visit to Sherri next March or April. :(

Here at Casa de Jammies, there is much misery and even more grossness, so I will spare my three or four readers and just say that I shall see you when I am better.

Oh no! Timmy's down the well!

Apparently, Timmy never actually fell down into a well. Nonetheless, it's so much a part of pop culture, that when Bigfoot starts running back and forth from me to something else, whining, I call it his "Lassie" act. I typically check the water bowl, the food bowl, and then see if he needs to go outside (unless it's past 11 o'clock, in which case I know he's nagging me to go to bed).

The night before I took lunch in to my team, Bigfoot did his act running between me and the bags of bread I had gotten for the lunch. I laughed and told him, "I don't care how far down the well Timmy is, you're not taking him any bread."

The other night, he did it again, but this time when I followed him, he nosed the doors to the freestanding cabinet in the kitchen where the dog stuff is. Apparently, Timmy needed a pig ear, and Bigfoot was going to be noble and eat it for him. It was so cute (and he does it so infrequently) that I opened the cupboard, got both 'Foots a pig ear and handed them out.

I'm such a well-trained human. ;)