Musings on the Plunge

Population: normal

Mon, 17 Aug 2009 22:21:52 GMT

[Yes, this would make more sense if I'd posted it last week.]

We picked up our (slightly radioactive) kitty a day early. So the cat population is back to it's normal number. He sounded extra raspy when we picked him up -- clearly he'd spent quality time yowling during his stay at the clinic.

random things make up a post

Fri, 07 Aug 2009 00:18:13 GMT

Chicken soup is good. Especially with home made stock (my mother would be shocked, since cooking is a new interest).
Foozle continues her efforts to end Marco's life force. Dante apparently qualifies for the "I'm a young kitten, I get a buy on territory disputes" card.
Dante is an adorable puff-ball. Still. Next round of kitten vaccinations on Saturday.
Marco refused to eat for a week, loosing half a pound. Much panic and concern. Then he snapped out of it. Best guess is teething was so painful he didn't want to eat, even canned food.
Eldest cat recently diagnosed as hyperthyroid. He's going to the Feline Hyperthyroid Treatment Center on Monday. They successfully treated another one of our cats a long time ago, so here's to round two.
I'm trying to develop the habit of movement by being a lemming. Mixed results.
Habit-building impaired by my NotGout, i.e., a painful joint in my right foot that flared up late last week. Minor flare-up, I was back in my normal shoes in 5 days. Bad flare-ups last 3 weeks with a few days in the middle where I don't want to put my foot on the ground.
After seeing a foot specialist this morning, I "get" to go to physical therapy to make it better.
I've revisited my "I have no brain and must scream" hobby of doing latch hook kits. It's oddly soothing to make tangible, visible progress on something. Current project is a lighthouse with a lot of color changes.

I'm not overtired, I'm underslept

Wed, 22 Jul 2009 00:07:08 GMT

Though much better than Saturday. The second Pixie-Bob kitten came home Friday night. "Nunzio" just didn't fit the little puff-ball, so on the drive home we decided on "Dante." If he doesn't grow, he'll end up being known as "Bug." At roughly 7 weeks old (and 1.5 pounds), he's still mostly tummy. And tends to toboggan after toys like a penguin. Up come the front paws and he balances on his belly while pushing with back paws.

Marco, at nearly 6 pounds, seems huge in comparison. Marco is taking well to his new "toy" and has already learned not to over-play with the newcomer. Older cats are less than thrilled about the new addition -- they'll get over it.

Pictures as soon as I rustle electrons appropriately. Though, no shots of the penguining so far...

In which, we're reminded...

Sat, 27 Jun 2009 18:59:41 GMT

...X% of reality is perception, for non-trivial values of X. I have a story that illustrates my most recent reminder.

Spouse and I are people with cats. Last month our population consisted of one slightly burly Manx and two Bengals. The Bengals have very different body types. Foozle is a 15 pound, heavy boned furry "little" tank. Cally has the more traditional long and lean build. Until recently, Cally has seemed (not to put too fine a point on it) spindly and puny compared to the other two cats.

Then, we got a kitten. All of a sudden, my perception of Cally shifted from "puny" to "freaking huge" and "veritable tank." What can I say? My mind amuses me when it's not driving me nuts.

The kitten is a Pixie-Bob male named Marco with extra toes, currently 3 months old. We went with a specific breed because the Bengals play rough and we figured getting a large breed cat with nice heavy bones would stack the odds in favor of no serious injuries. Ironically, he chases the Bengals around.

Musings on fiction genres

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 03:24:10 GMT

Fiction genres are sliced, diced and recombined in lots of ways. I offer my own dicing. The last couple of paragraphs might contain spoilers to Carrie Ryan's The Forest of Hands and Teeth, so be warned.

All books contain problem/solution sets. The problems range from the trivial (what are we having for dinner?) to serious (how do I keep the tiger from eating me when we're both stuck on a life raft in the ocean?). Genres can be grouped by whether or not the book has an over-reaching problem the main characters work to solve. Books called mystery, fantasy, romance or science fiction tend to have this ever present external problem. Whether it's a crime to solve, an invading army of evil, the search for the perfect partner or a run-away nuclear reactor, these books have a clearly set external problem. The book concludes with the problem solved, or the start of a solution outlined.

Horror and literary fiction are a little different. Often, these books are about survival, survival of mind if not body. External problems are accommodated, not solved. They're often sketches of how different personalities deconstruct under pressure. Post-apocalyptic science fiction survival novels also feature accommodation to external problems. However, the main characters actively engage in preserving knowledge or carving safe spaces from the new wilderness. There's external focus beyond personal survival.

The Forest of Hands and Teeth started me thinking about this. When I first ran across the book, I mentally tagged it as fantasy. After all, there's the pseudo-medieval setting with a conservative, controlling religion. After I read a couple of chapters, I realized this was actually a post-apocalyptic science fiction story with a lot of parallels to The Day of the Triffids. Then I finished the book. And re-tagged it as horror.

TFoHaT does have an ever present external problem: a zombie horde (with bonus plague!). However, this problem is accommodated. If it truly was a science fiction book, at the end, there would be the hope of a solution. It ends with survival for some but not even the hope of a solution.

Puppy pictures

Tue, 26 May 2009 21:39:14 GMT

Well, they ended up over at this Facebook account. I vouch for them, it's OK to click through. My favorite is the chase scene. If anyone has trouble accessing the photos, let me know and I'll throw a few up on Flickr and post a new link.

Barrett -- the Sheltie -- came from a multiple dog household and just doesn't understand why Alvin -- the Pom and an only dog -- won't play. Alvin wanted to know when it was time to go back inside and why this other dog kept dancing around.

As a perhaps overly communicative aside, I recently realized the reason I delay posting picture is I don't know anything about digital photo editing or processing. And, since my job title includes the word "software" I must, of course, be amazingly compentent at all things digital or software-ish. Rational me also realizes no one else cares about my overly obsessive brain squirrels.

Cute overwhelm 4, 3, 2...

Thu, 16 Apr 2009 16:25:03 GMT

This weekend I'm heading up to the wilds of Skagit County to meet youngest brother-in-law's new puppy. A three month old Sheltie, still with his fluffy puppy coat. The dog is named Barrett, after the gun. However, I feel a moral obligation to give him grief over naming his dog after a poet.

sleep deprived

Mon, 13 Apr 2009 15:59:19 GMT

And thorougly bored with being sick. It's ironic that those times I really, really need quality sleep -- like to recover from respiratory flu -- I really, really, really don't want my C-PAP machine shoving air through my sinuses. I recovered from the flu, then was pounced on by an opportunistic cold virus.

Also, went clubbing in downtown Seattle Saturday night. A friend wanted to go dancing for her birthday, so about 7 of us descended on Club Noc Noc. Dodging people in costume leaving Sakura-Con. Uhm. Since I've had a relatively sheltered life, it was the first time I'd heard Safety Dance with the volume at 11 and enough bass to make the drinks dance. Stayed until around midnight.

LJ part of the 20% of my life I don't get to

Fri, 03 Apr 2009 21:55:03 GMT

So, yeah. Mostly a thrilling round of wake up/work/eat dinner/sleep with bonus driving and lots of tired the last few months. I have a couple of longer posts in progress about the trip to Powell's Books and the two week vacation with my parents, but neither are finished. I'm also still recovering from a massive cold/flu thing I came down with early last week. My cough is gone enough (finally!) that I managed to sleep through the night last night for the first time in over a week.

What I have finished is another math problem from projecteuler.net -- it's an excuse to relearn C# coding and work with a development environment. And the exercise of thinking analytically and clearly is rarely bad.

Breaking radio silence

Fri, 02 Jan 2009 07:21:15 GMT

Happy holidays, end of last year and beginning of this year, however you and yours celebrate it. My sincerest wishes for everyone to have a better 2009 than 2008.

In no particular order, what's been going on in my life...

Spouse and I are fairly evenly matched at Guitar Hero. Neither one of us has made the jump from easy to medium difficulty though. We picked up GH 3: Legends of Rock, plus an extra guitar controller during a Black Friday sale at Toys R Us. You'll be happy to know I held the line at "no, I'm not getting up at 5am to shop." We wandered out around 10am. Missed most of the crowds and still reached the sales for most of the items on the list.
We had to put another cat to sleep. Lightning's cancer returned and, as always, the right decision was both obvious and hard. That makes 3 pet deaths in 4 months. My personal hope for 2009 is no cat drama.
I made chicken stock a couple of days ago. The recipe I use makes 5 quarts of stock. The recipe also calls for 12-24 hours of simmering. I typically cut it off at 10 hours because it takes an hour for it to cool, be strained and everything washed up. I split it between quart and pint canning jars. It lasts for months in the freezer. The last jars from the previous batch will be used on Sunday for chicken gumbo.
Work has been...ambiguous. Which I hate. I like shoving all my ambiguity in the smallest corner possible so I can stare at it suspiciously. This ambiguity is being hard to corral.
Two Thanksgivings this year. Up to spouse's brother's place for deep fried turkey on T-day itself, then over to my family's that Sunday. Both trips take a full day.
My nephew made a killing at Christmas. At 4 months, he's more interested in ripping paper than anything else. But had a lot of fun doing it.
I've officially shoveled more snow last week than at anytime since moving back to the Seattle area from Eastern Washington. My house ended up with around 3 feet of the stuff. Two or three times a day I was out helping to shovel and clear the snow from the high security awning in the cat enclosure. One of the cats actually escaped out the garage door. One jump, he was on the shoveled walk. Two jumps, belly deep in snow. Three jumps, over his head and looking very "WTF!!??? Keep the door open, I'm coming back!" He spun around and bounded back into the garage without further prompting. Usually we're both chasing him around when he gets out.
We bought a GPS unit as a mutual Christmas present. Spouse mumbled something about wanting GPS with less snark. I maintain I offer valuable commentary on the road and driving conditions. Tomorrow it sees it's first test -- taking us somewhere we haven't been before. We're going to Portland, OR to buy Everclear. And since this is the first time we're stopping in Portland, rather than having it be a halfway point, we're also going to Powell's Books. In person.
The writing has been on again, off again. Mostly off.
My back still hurts from rearranging slush piles left by the plows. No excuses for missing garbage pickup and mail delivery!
Despite being on vacation for nearly 2 weeks now, the house still looks like a clutter bomb went off in it. And I feel like I didn't actually accomplish anything. Including posting the pictures from the PNW Shadow Unit Delta meet-up. Sorry guys.
No New Year's parties for me. Loud noises make me twitchy, so I tend to huddle down with the cats during fireworks. And yes, even though it was raining and really cold last night, the neighbors were out shooting off fireworks.
Spouse and I are having a running low level squabble about our next vacation. I have moderate sleep apnea and have a machine to make sure I keep breathing normally throughout the night, get restful sleep, yadda yadda yadda. We hates it my precioussss. Well, I hates it. I hate being tethered, getting tangled in the air hose and having a harness wrapped around my head. Spouse rather enjoys not waking up in a panic to check that I'm breathing. Anyway, The Machine typically doesn't go on vacation with us. And that's fine for week long trips, but since this one will be twice as long, spouse is lobbying for it's inclusion. I'm not convinced, it's something else to haul through the airport, take care of, worry about and not lose.
I've read a lot of books.
My sleep schedule is shifted about 3 hours forward, which is going to make going back to work on Monday a bear.

Must sign off now, need to get up early for the trip to Oregon, with a detour to visit distant family members on the way home.

Writing again

Tue, 02 Dec 2008 06:28:00 GMT

In fits and starts, but I got 400 decent words down tonight. This work in progress feels like a short story or novella. I'm going for third time's the charm and this project is small enough to finish before I'm bored with it. It's untitled. I'm referring to it as the "cheaper than therapy" piece. Even though that has nothing to do with the content of the story. It's a rather grim little thing I started in the middle of the recent awkwardness. The curious can look at this post for details, September continued in much the same vein. My work calmed down, but spouse's work ramped up. October had its stressful moments too.

I've come to realize the longer I take to write down pretty turns of phrase, the longer it's going to be before my brain coughs up another one. Focus stays on not forgetting sentences like "We forgot the lesson we taught the Ice Age mega-fauna: technology is a great leveler." Rather than on relaxing and producing more little gems. Or a plot. I seesaw between writing without concern for organization and wanting to block out scenes/events/what have you and fitting the pieces together like a Lego set.

But, I'm keeping the first line, even if my main character turns into a three-headed wombat: I never thought reading post-apocalyptic science fiction stories would be useful.

A Vacation Count-Down*

Sat, 15 Nov 2008 00:20:25 GMT

Deadline: Flight leaving at 12:30pm.

Vacation – 9 days: OK, this deserves its own post since I laughed so hard I nearly saw my spleen. Spousal work function/party that included heavy drinking and promises to the significant others of two people we’d get them home safely. Much fun was had. Along with taxi service to the wilds of Issaquah and West Seattle. We get home around 1:30am.

Vacation – 8 days: Sleep in a little. Write vacation to-do list. Run errands in morning. Take nap. Spouse has headache all day that flips to a migraine in the evening. Progress on vacation to-do list: 0.

Vacation – 7 days: Go to work for a couple of hours to get a jump on the week. Lots to do before heading out. Feel head cold coming on. Spouse recovering from yesterday’s headache. Progress on vacation to-do list: 0.

Vacation – 6 days: Head cold in full force. Stay home from work and moan around the house annoying the cats. Stress about losing an eardrum on the flight. And having to run for a connecting flight. Progress on vacation to-do list: 0.

Vacation – 5 days: Sinus headache of migraine proportions. It hurts to, well, to do anything. Thankfully, headache dies down to “hit by bat” level by mid-afternoon. Leave house long enough to grocery shop for dinner: a pint of homemade chicken stock with onion, a ton of garlic, red pepper flakes and fresh ginger. Ready for nap after trip. Really helped sinuses. Spouse works late. Progress on vacation to-do list: 0.

Vacation – 4 days: Back at work and dreadfully behind. See executive email announcing major office move, to occur while I’m on vacation. Slash and burn work to-do list, and go to meetings hopefully not infecting others. Made mistake of carpooling with spouse, I end up dozing on couch down the hall until we can leave at 9pm. Progress on vacation to-do list: 0.

Vacation – 3 days: Make a nuisance of myself trying to find out when my office move will occur. Stress about lack of progress recovering from head cold. Get bad news from vet that cat needs another 2 weeks of anti-biotics. Mentally revise note to pet sitter. Progress on vacation to-do list: 0

Vacation – 2 days: Finally get confirmation my office move occurs while I’m on vacation. Boxes and tape delivered. Scurry around like over-sized rat finalizing things at work and starting to pack. Bribe person down the hall to label my stuff when the move paperwork shows up. Bribe person in another building to grab some bubble wrap, since all bubble wrap is missing from my building. Spouse dealing with family stuff all day, sister-in-law's surgery goes fine. Progress on vacation to-do list: a little.

Vacation – 1 day: Go to my office to finish packing breakables. Stash some of them in or around spouse’s office. Take down Halloween decorations at office. See email saying my office won’t be moved until after I return from vacation. Enter time warp where everything takes four times as long. Back home for laundry, packing, house cleaning and so forth. The house isn’t dirty per se, but both spouse and I have a high tolerance for clutter. And it creeps and breeds like clutter tends to do… then we realize someone is coming over (cat sitter!) and panic ensues. In bed around midnight. Vacation to-do list almost complete.

Vacation – 9 hours: Wake up at 3:30am to cat barfing on headboard. Excitement ensues.

* Yes, we’re back and it was marvelous, especially since spouse and I had seen distressingly little of each other since mid-August. All of the planes were on time and no running for connecting flights.

pre-vacation checklist

Thu, 30 Oct 2008 20:45:52 GMT

Clobbered by head cold: check
Crisis at work: check check
Family obligations: check
Started on to-do list: errr... no.

A good deed

Sat, 18 Oct 2008 05:32:55 GMT

We finally, finally found a good home for the stray cat we've been feeding since May. The person who took her uses the same vet clinic we do and came highly recommended.

So, yay. No more worries about cars, raccoons and colder weather. She will become the pampered indoor lap cat she clearly wanted to be. (our existing cats hated her with the fiery hate of ten thousand indoor-only suns)

Conversations with spouse

Wed, 15 Oct 2008 17:15:23 GMT

Not quite word-for-word accurate, but close...

Scene: I'm at work, spouse is at work. A phone call to negotiate logistics of going home.

Spouse: How are you feeling?
Me: Tired. Another day of being nibbled to death by ducks.
Oh, you probably don't want to hear my news then.
[pauses] Hit me.
The crazy person called.
[pauses again] You'll have to narrow it down a bit. (aside: there are 3 strong possibilities and 2 less likely but still possible]
The oldest crazy person.
[sighs] Now what?

Deleted: summary of semi-hysterical conversation that occurred yesterday morning.

Semi-hysterical on my mother-in-law's side of course. It's hard to tell what's actually going on because no matter what, it's all about the drama. And it's all about her. There was even a request that spouse drop everything and make the hour drive up to the location of the drama Right Now To Fix It All. Because that's the expectation.

Not kidnapped by pirates

Fri, 10 Oct 2008 01:16:42 GMT

Dammit.

[hangs rum around neck]

RIP Squeaker

Mon, 29 Sep 2008 21:15:46 GMT

Yes, it's been a tough 5-6 weeks on the cats.

10 days ago we made the decision to put Squeaker to sleep. Despite being in early stages of kidney failure (according to blood work), she didn't respond to treatment. Just over the course of a day or two she became much more lethargic and generally, well, there just didn't seem to be a point.

Squeaker's original name was Stormy, chosen due to her dark tortie coloring -- all black and dark gray with some hints of orange and cream. That turned into Squeaker or Squeaky. She never got the hang of a full fledged meow; it always had a bit of a squeak in there. She survived her two brothers.

When we got her and her brothers, we were living in a house where the front door opened into a space that went the depth of the house. With the curtains open, you could see from the door out onto the back deck. Well. We also had a cat door and weren't really comfortable with the kittens (about 3 months old at the time) going outside. But they seemed to be ignoring the cat door. Or so we thought. One day, all the kittens had tree sap on their fur. Puzzled, we thought they'd been playing in the firewood stacked by the stove. Nope. The next day we came home from work early. Walked in the door, looked out on the deck and there were all three kittens. All of whom had "oh crap, we're busted" expressions on their faces. Ten seconds later, they'd piled in through the cat door and were trying to convince us they'd been inside all along.

Nearly a year later, we were out front doing something. Weeding maybe. It's mid-afternoon and I look up and see a raccoon trotting across the street. I'm thinking it's weird -- raccoons usually aren't out on sunny days. But... here comes Squeaky, jogging casually after the raccoon. Think the Pepe LePew cartoons, with the raccoon being the cat and Squeaker playing the role of Pepe. She'd rousted it out from the yard of the temporarily empty house across the street. When we yelled at her, she stopped and gave us a "What?" look. Other than chasing things much bigger than her, she never took an interest in hunting.

She was interested in sleeping in the sun, catnip and complaining when picked up. Lap sitting was OK, but not so much the holding and petting. She'd steal the good spots from her brother when he got up for a snack.

Can I call it a long-term relationship now?

Wed, 17 Sep 2008 03:09:49 GMT

19 years and 1 day. Longer than that if you count time living together. It seems to be somewhat permanent.

While we went out to dinner last night, we went to one of our regular dining out places rather than somewhere new and/or special. The last few weeks contained much drama. My brain was tired from work stuff and both of us wanted the comfortable and familiar. We'll go out somewhere special Thursday night.

As an example of how well my brain was working last night... So, I'm sitting across the table from my sweetie, and I'm looking like a deer caught in headlights because one of us managed to sneak off for a romantic card and it wasn't me. After the obligatory round of teasing, spouse says "want to plan for the 20th?" I blink. "Sure," I say, "What do you want to do on Saturday?" Stunned silence. I'm puzzled. Spouse shakes head sadly "I meant for our 20th anniversary."

Fortunately, those moments of extreme cluelessness on my part are considered endearing. In my defense, I will point out that this coming Saturday is Sept. 20th.

I'm also scheming how to get an "I miss you" card into the spousal office while being able to disavow all knowledge of how exactly it got there. And have stashed a couple of anniversary cards around the house for "stumble across" fun.

Sleep deprived...

Tue, 09 Sep 2008 06:32:27 GMT

Yes, clearly, if this was easy, Lightning would be a dog. Still recovering well from surgery. Making us look incompetent with a pill gun, all the usual. And, a perfect little angel during the day when we're up to watch her. Sleeps, leaves stitches alone, doesn't try to thrash around or jump. But come nightfall...

10 days until the stitches come out. Less than that before normal cat behavior isn't risky.

PS in-laws still stupid and living for the drama. And denial. Spouse still believes was switched at hospital.

Recovery doesn't always take 12 steps

Sat, 06 Sep 2008 05:51:17 GMT

Surgery done, cat did well. Recovering overnight at clinic. Custom two-room condo built with excessive help from Bengals.

Sleep now. Or as soon as my stomach settles down a bit.

Pace, it's not just a brand of salsa

Fri, 05 Sep 2008 23:06:48 GMT

Even as I type this, gimpy cat -- Lightning, the Mighty Squirrel Bane -- is undergoing transformation into three-legged cat. In keeping with the current good news/bad news pattern of my life, a cancerous tumor caused the limping and it's too late to save the leg. But, preliminary signs are that it's a type that spreads slowly. And cats recover quickly from amputations, especially since she's been hopping around on three legs for a couple of months. Apparently, once the post-surgical pain wears off (estimate: 2-3 days) we'll have trouble keeping her from running, leaping, dodging and generally straining the incision.

So, yeah. Even with full confidence in the surgeon and his staff, a little worried. She's an elderly cat, albeit with a lot of life left in her. And we need to set up a recovery area. Don't tell her it's two large dog crates strapped together. We'll bring her home sometime tomorrow and settle her in. Fortunately, she's fairly easy to pill.

PS: the in-laws are still being clueless

PPS: we did go see my nephew last weekend

I haven't been writing because...

Fri, 29 Aug 2008 23:09:20 GMT

Slightly rambling tale explaining why my current WIP has stalled out.

My cat died. Seriously. The cat we've had for nearly 18 years – almost as long as we've been together – died in my car on the way to the vet's. Yes, I had the joy of calling my sweetie, who flown to Maine that day, to say "pull the rental car over, I have bad news." What's in Maine you ask? Spouse's foster Mom. Who might be pulling out of her alcohol fueled physical and emotional health death spiral. Or not. It's too early to tell. In any case, her dog (don't get me started) is still annoying and her housekeeping makes us look like a Martha Stewart magazine centerfold. My last trip there I was driven to drink. Literally. I had something from the bar every dinner we ate out and I wasn't on the rental car agreement as a driver.

My shoulder hurts. It'd been bothering me for a few weeks before I went to the chiropractor. By the way, my regular chiropractic visits confirmed something I've always suspected: I'm maladjusted. Anyway, I have a strained rotator cuff. He's loosening the tendons – apparently code for "I'm going to pound on the pressure points until your shoulder aches down to your hand." I simultaneously want to rip off my arm to make the pain go away while realizing it Doesn't. Hurt. That. Bad. But, however mild, chronic pain is a bitch. It's about me and my Inner Whiner. And driving hurts. FYI.

I haven't found the perfect writing tool. Failing that, I've yet, despite extensive reading, found the perfect organizational method. You know the one. The one that makes the story come together with the suddenness and beauty of ice forming in super-cooled water. Or with the blazing scintillation of light rainbowing across sun-cracked glass. Metaphors very according to mood.

I don't drink enough. The main points of this piece were mentally outlined after two fingers of decent Scotch. This led to the discovery that the new cups at work wick alcohol. Quickly. Or I don't drink fast enough. Last month work switched to compostable cups and plates. And utensils made from potato and corn starch. Do not leave in soup. They'll melt. But, I suppose In Event Of Zombie Apocalypse, we can trust in the security doors and have a feast of forks. Where was I? Oh yes, drinking at work. Why was I drinking at work? I'd tell you; even I will probably think it's a funny story in a couple of weeks. But, I don't think I can change the details enough to keep from being fired if the wrong person reads it. We take our Non-Disclosure Agreements seriously. Suffice it to say, there were two days eerily like chasing after the eagle that just snatched the poodle you were walking for someone else. When you thought you were in a no-fly zone. While other people asked “Why aren't you walking a German Shepherd?” And the poodle’s owner wants to know where the hell their dog is, because you were supposed to return four hours ago. Or something like that, I think I lost track of my analogy.

My work/life balance is surprisingly good: they're both chaotic time sinks. Recently, my older brother-in-law (spouse's sibling, not a sibling's spouse and why can't you tell the difference in English?) did something stupid – no one saw what happened and he doesn't remember, but it seems a safe bet – on one of those motorized skateboard things. Of course he wasn’t wearing a helmet. Hello skull fracture and transport to Harborview Regional Medical Center in Seattle. Since we live an hour closer to Harborview than anyone else, and spouse was voted Family Member Most Likely to Understand the Doctors... Off we went. I was going to stay home so I could drug the cat in the morning, the call came at 11:30pm of course, but I remembered I'd left my car at work that night. So, detour at midnight so I could pick up my car, drive back home and hold down the fort. Two days after the accident, we drove him home and handed off to the local family members (couple of older siblings and mom – yes, for those of you keeping track at home, I have two mothers-in-law. Pity me.) Keep in mind, most of my in-laws appear in the dictionary under the entries "drama queen" and "unreliable narrator." Even face to face it’s hard to tell truth from lie from exaggeration for effect. And let’s not forget: I'm confused, so I’m just going to make shit up. And their stories change, often in the same conversation. Brother-in-law is healing well, and we’re on call for providing transportation to any follow-up appointments in Seattle. Don't ask, it's better that way.

There are cats to medicate. It was just The Cat Who Refuses To Eat Enough For No Apparent Reason. Her weight is holding steady, but she really needs to weigh 8 pounds instead of 6. And gimpy cat has daily meds for a couple of days. Gimpy cat has bone changes in her foot, but still no diagnosis. We're waiting on biopsy results.

My nephew was born two weeks ago and we've yet to manage the 90 minute trip to see him.

Our house is too clean, because there's a continuing possibility of brother-in-law spending the night between appointments. In two late night slash and burn sessions half done projects were completed and things waiting to be recycled were actually hauled to the recycle bin. However, someone (not me!) forgot that early 20's are a distant memory and it’s not as easy to drive 250 miles on three hours sleep as it once was. I worried and assumed massive amounts of coffee were consumed.

I'm sure there are other reasons I'm not writing, but the Scotch has worn off.

Murphy's Law

Tue, 26 Aug 2008 23:31:58 GMT

Just when you think you have all the bases covered, a large eagle will swoop down and take one. Then the pitcher will start yelling about how you said home plate would be available 3 hours ago thank you very much.

And, I probably shouldn't do sports metaphors.

Scattered showers...

Fri, 22 Aug 2008 08:24:59 GMT

Last year we actually managed to do something for our anniversary. This year it's shaping up to be dinner/movie after work (assuming work doesn't cancel dinner), with maybe a day at Woodland Park Zoo some weekend vaguely in or around September.

Anyway, last year. We went to Florida for a week as an anniversary trip. A trip that would have gone slightly better if I'd remembered that chugging a liter of water with breakfast is not overkill. This was our second trip, both times to Sanibel Island on the Gulf Coast. Sanibel caters to the tourist trade, yet remains a low traffic, quiet place to vacation. You can go to the beach and see the beach, not just a patchwork of towels. The beaches are shells, ranging from colorful and unbroken to ground into sand -- literally. And that's what you do mostly, beach-comb for shells. It's very calming. Hot, but calming.

This trip, we branched out. We also drove up to Venice Beach (about 50 miles away) to beach-comb for shark's teeth. Found some, but well... it's just say the town website is a trifle... enthusiastic about the size of the shark's teeth and how easy they are to find. The day we drove up was forecast for scattered showers. People familiar with the American South probably know where I'm going with this.

So, scattered showers. I grew up in the Seattle area. I know what scattered showers are. Scattered showers call for 5 minutes of indecision about how high to turn on the wiper blades. In Florida, it apparently means constant lightning with chance of monsoon. SUVs had hydroplaned off the highway. Every overpass had a huddle of motorcycles. And keep in mind, it was getting late and we really wanted to be back on the island before dark. It was like driving through a disco car wash during the rinse cycle at 40 mph. Lightning going off like strobe lights. Enough water was hitting the windshield that it didn't matter what the wiper blades were doing. Then, we'd make it through the cloud band and everything would dry out. For five minutes.

But we made it back in one piece. Even managed to grocery shop without drowning and make it back to the island with a main road closure and the Impressionist city map you get from car rental places.

Yes, others will pay for tonight's insomnia...

The park is saved!

Thu, 21 Aug 2008 18:06:19 GMT

Thanks mostly to my neighbor. I just signed the petition. She walked around the neighborhood with her kid telling people about the city council's motion to sell part of the park for high density housing. Usually people are: "we have a city council? They meet??" At the last meeting, a lot of people turned out to speak against reducing the size of the park. And, thus, it came to pass that the park is safe this fiscal year. And probably next year, since it's an election year.

Past that, well, we'll burn that bridge when we get there.