Every so often, I catch myself actually living my life. Among the daily commute, the hours in front of the computer, heating up my dinner, driving home in the darkness, going to bed, there are moments every so often where I realize there's more than just that. They don't happen every day. They're not even inspired by much. A scene from a movie I've experienced before; a passage from a book I could have written; a conversation between strangers that materializes in tangible form; a touch that sends me back to a former self. They're often fleeting but they hit me hard, as though they're afraid I'll miss them if they don't. There are so many things that clog up our day they barely have room to move, room to breathe. We wander thoughtlessly through this forest of trees and rocks that we have to get over, get past, get through, that we don't notice the rest of nature just shining down on us. We instinctively head for the shade where it's cool, where it's safe.
But there are those times where, even standing in the shade, we catch a glimpse of a mountain lion running in the distance. Out of the corner of our eye a multi-colored bird soars over our head. We watch the setting sun as it paints the sky different hues of red. And we realize, in that moment, that we are here.
But the sky becomes dark, and if we don't pay attention, the moon and stars only light our way home to end the day in preparation for the next one. Another commute, another dinner, another work day. And the cycle repeats as others join us in the forest, sometimes helping to brush away the branches and point out obstacles. We walk along with them and converse with them and identify with them, and they in turn add to our existence. But only a precious few enrich that existence and we have to constantly be aware of their presence. Because they, just like the sun, are sometimes shining, sometimes setting, sometimes pushing you toward the shade. And if you're not careful, you may just miss the picture they paint for you at the end of each day.
And isn't that what it's all about? We're given eyes and ears and arms and legs and what do we do with them? We use them to read reports, listen in meetings, type up letters, and walk down to the cafeteria. Only once in a while do we stop to watch the clouds drift by, listen to the birds sing, throw our hands up to catch the rain, and run like children to feel the breeze.
It may seem at times like your life is not your own. Everyone has responsibilities such as school or work that are necessary just to get by on a daily basis. But there are times when you can just stop, and no matter where you are or what you're doing, you realize that you are actually living your life. And that is always a good thing.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Going Back to Cali
Ok, so I've already traveled to California and come back. I guess using that song title would've been appropriate if I was blogging about the trip three weeks ago. However, three weeks ago I wouldn't have had any good stories to write about since the trip was just starting then. So in retrospect, this will be a much more interesting blog. :)
As most of my friends and family know, C is in Pasadena this summer for an internship at the Jet Propulsion Lab (JPL). Our friend, D (not to be confused with me, D) was able to get him a 6-week internship last summer, and they invited him back this year. However, they wanted him for the entire summer, so to compromise I spent my two weeks of vacation out there with him in the middle of his stay.
I left Logan Airport on the afternoon of June 27th, sitting next to a physics teacher (go figure!) who had been in MA for some underwater machine competition. My friends who live upstairs gave me "The Big Book of Barry Ween" to read, which is a collection of comic books on this one character. They warned me I would laugh out loud and I told them I hardly ever do that while reading. But of course, the book was so funny I did laugh, loudly, like a retarded hyena, causing the physics teacher to continuously glance over at me with concern. Thankfully he managed to fall asleep in the middle of it (or at least, he pretended to so he could avoid having to converse with me). Either way the flight to Phoenix, where I had my layover, was very pleasant.
Now, the one-hour flight to Burbank was supposed to be my time to finish the 55 chapter outline I was working on for my book. However, I sat next to an elderly gentlemen who kept asking me questions about the college I went to (I was wearing an alumni shirt, so I suppose I brought it upon myself), so that idea was out the window. Well, not literally, since that would've caused the cabin to lose air pressure and we probably would've all died. Unless we had a water landing, and then we would've had our seat cushions for flotation devices. But I digress. :)
I got into Pasadena around 9:30 pm and C and his great aunt, G, picked me up. He's staying at his aunt's house to save on renting a place, so I too got to save money not only by staying at her place, but also being able to use her car. She's 90 years old, and even though she's had the car for 4 years it only has 21,000 miles on it. It literally is one of those cars that only gets driven to the market, although she does still go the gym and yoga classes. California- it does a body good!
Anyway, that Sunday C and I drove to Santa Barbara to visit his cousin, B, his wife, M, and their son, A. When I first met C's family four years ago, B and M were building their house. This year I got to see the finished product, which was awesome. They were going to a BBQ at a friend's house so we got a free meal, and later that night we went walking with B and their dog. Then we went walking in downtown Santa Barbara and had delicious frozen yogurt. And it doesn't matter that I put chocolate and candy on top of it- it was healthy, damn it! :)
The next day we drove back to Pasadena so C could go into work for at least a half day. We lucked out because C's schedule is 5-day and then 4-day weeks, and the end of that week was the 4th of July (our 5-year anniversary). So C only had a 3-day week, having both Thursday and Friday off for the holiday.
That meant on Thursday we could drive to Malibu, since I wanted to make it to the beach at least once while I was there (not too many beaches in central MA, ya know what I'm sayin?). After spending way too long on the glorified parking lot known as the freeway, we decided to take some side streets to wind our way through the mountains instead. It was so beautiful. Every road there had the designation CNYN, because every road there led to a house built into the canyons. We would see the iron gate at the front of the property, and then way in the distance the mansion would appear out of nowhere (literally- it would just be sitting on a ledge!). I can't imagine how much these people pay for insurance. I mean, they do know they're in CA right??
Anyway, we decided to stop at Paradise Cove, which was a good-sized public beach with all the necessary facilities, including the Paradise Cove Restaurant. We walked down the beach and found a nice shady spot in front of some small "cliffs" (which was good since we didn't have an umbrella. Again, not avid beach-goers!). We hung out in the ocean for a bit and after I got slammed into the sand by a couple waves (oh yeah, I have very low beach skills) I decided to just hang out on my towel and enjoy the gorgeous day. That was one of my favorite things about the trip as a whole- consistently great weather! We New Englanders just don't get that- EVER!
After the beach romp we ate at the Cove Restaurant, having delicious Big Kahuna nachos, and then we drove back that night. On Friday we drove to our hotel, which was only 5 minutes from his aunt's house, but it was also in the middle of Old Pasadena which made it a great location. We walked around window shopping and stopped into a couple chocolate shops, since there's no way to pass by those! For our anniversary we ate at a fairly authentic Italian restaurant, where I had a delicious gourmet pizza (come on, are any of you shocked?). We also went to see the movie Public Enemy which we both enjoyed.
Luckily the part of Pasadena we were in was near the Rose Bowl, where they have a big fireworks display, so we were able to simply walk out onto the top of the parking garage and watch the fireworks from our hotel. C and I are big fans of having to do the least amount of work for these events. :)
Unfortunately on Sunday we had to get back to reality, but fortunately for me that meant another week of vacation! That week I spent my days writing my book, which by the end of the trip turned into seven chapters total. At night we would go out to eat, trying out Thai places, a quality Chinese restaurant, Round Table Pizza, and of course, Carl's Jr. C forbade me to get fast food from any other place! One night we ate at a Vietnamese place but they had too many green, leafy products for me to enjoy the food. So thankfully there was a Carl's Jr. down the street. :)
On Thursday D was able to get me a security pass to hang out on the JPL campus for 2 hours and give me a personal tour (because, seriously, what does he do all day? He says it's "classified" but I think that's just an excuse to lock himself in a big vault and take a nap). :) C's aunt's son, S, told me I should've tried to get a full security pass so I could go into restricted areas and come back with major government secrets. He even suggested I go see this guy who makes fake IDs, watermarked and laminated, out of the back of his van. I didn't ask how he had knowledge of this, um, businessman. :) Anyway, it didn't matter because D told us they don't have those kind of badges (badges? We don't need no stinkin badges!). And they don't, because if your name isn't on the list, then you simply don't get to go in that area. Yup, they've got bouncers! :) I also asked D if I needed to be careful what I said, in case they had microphones everywhere. "Oh yeah," he said. Then a couple seconds later, "Of course not!" Hey, you never know who's listening these days!
So after getting my special visitors pass I got to see the computer lab where C works, D's place in the cube farm, and the vault door that leads to the "bat cave" (that's the nickname for the place where D does his "secret" work- I wasn't kidding about the vault door!). Afterward, we went to the JPL gift shop where they had lots of random space themed items and T shirts that said things like, "Actually, it IS rocket science." I got shirts for my nieces that have a child's drawing of a rocket ship and a JPL shot glass for my sister, since I'm pretty sure she doesn't have one from there!
After that, we got to go to one of their observation decks where we saw a handful of scientists trying to figure out how to get one of their rovers out of the mud. They have a replica of the rover stuck in a substance similar to that on Mars, and are trying computer simulations to figure out how to get it unstuck. It was pretty neat. We also went to the mini museum they have which shows the progression of JPL and how it's expanded to 130 buildings. But one of the best stories I heard, which you only get from a personal tour guide, was about one of their administrative buildings. Apparently it's right on the fault line, and if the big one ever does hit, the emergency stairways on both sides of the building would just fall off. So because of that fact, they have ropes on the side of the building to allow the workers to rappel off the sides to the ground! Creating new technology? Thousands of dollars. Creating equipment that functions in space? Millions of dollars. Creating a structure with useless emergency staircases that would cause people in business suits to have to bungee down the side of a building? Priceless. :)
On Friday night C and I went out to dinner with D and his wife, M, at a traditional Japanese restaurant that greets each group with a loud yell and drum roll. The employees at Moe's have nothing on these guys! Anyway, I actually tried a couple different pieces of sushi (I didn't like any of them but hey, I tried damn it!) and ended up getting fried chicken. I know, I was probably the only person in the place eating KFC food! I was also the only barbarian eating with a fork. Seriously. Even the 10-year-old girl sitting at the table next to us was using chopsticks with the rubber band at the top.
Anyway, that night we met up with C's dad, B, his wife, L, and C's grandmother (another B). We actually had dinner with his grandmother Thursday night at this great Thai place, so on Friday we went there again to meet B and L. We hung out for a while and discussed plans for Saturday, my last full day in CA. Afterward we drove to a grocery store so L could pick up band-aids. So C, B, and I waited for her in the parking lot, waiting and waiting and waiting. After getting pretty bored, we started guessing why it was taking her so long. C joked that she had been taken by pirates. And without missing a beat, B said, "Murdered by pirates is good." Now, I know all you Princess Bride fans out there are grinning over that one! I mean, come on, how often does that particular line come up in conversation? It was awesome.
So for Saturday we decided to go to the Huntington gardens after having breakfast at this place called Russell's, where we ate about 20 times (ok, maybe it was more like 5 times). Phenomenal cinnamon rolls. Anyway, it ended up just being me, C, and his grandmother for the gardens, and we spent 3 1/2 hours wandering around the 120 acre property. We went to the Chinese and Japanese gardens, the Australian outback, the Shakespeare garden which led to the rose garden, and a miniature Biodome that had a rain forest climate, cloud forest, and bog. We also wandered around one of several museums on the property.
Unfortunately I had no idea how big the place was, or that we'd be wandering around in the sun for that long, so I went there wearing a black shirt and no sunblock. Thankfully, the sunburn gods took pity on me and only gave me a red face from walking around so much. They did, however, think it was funny to make the back of my neck all red except where my low ponytail hung, leaving a white stripe down the middle. I looked like a redneck skunk. Later that night we had dinner at the same Thai place for a third time (hey, third time's a charm right?).
The very last thing I wanted to do on my trip was take a picture of this particular bridge that C and I kept driving by or over, officially called the Colorado Street Bridge. But the locals know it as Suicide Bridge. Apparently, more than 100 people have fallen to their deaths from this bridge over the years. It connects two hillsides, with only concrete underneath it. Of course, now there's a huge barrier that goes all the way along the bridge to try and prevent such suicides. But what makes it even creepier is this building behind it in the distance, that used to be an insane asylum (very Gotham-like). Unfortunately, the batteries in my camera died when I tried to take a picture of it during the day. I didn't really think about that fact until now- my batteries in essence committed suicide! Ok I know, bad joke. :) Anyway, we went back that night to try and get a picture but it didn't come out very well, so I've attached a picture from the Internet.
http://en.structurae.de/photos/index.cfm?JS=34019
My trip back to MA was fairly uneventful on Sunday, July 12th, although the captain on our first flight apparently had no idea where we were going. As we were getting ready to depart he came over the intercom and said, "Hello ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Flight # going to Long Beach." There was a collective "Huh?" within the cabin, and the flight attendant quickly popped her head around the corner and said, "Don't worry, he means Phoenix." Then the captain came back on and said, "I'm sorry, we're going to Phoenix aren't we?" That made us feel much better. And a half hour delay from Phoenix to Boston was made up in the air, causing us to get into Logan only 8 minutes later than expected. I took a shuttle from Logan back to the apartment, getting home at 2 am to a very excited kitty who wouldn't stop following me around the apartment until I finally collapsed into bed.
So now I'm back to working in the land of 70s and thunderstorms, trying to readjust to working and 70s weather. Being in CA, writing my book while C went off to work, was a glimpse of a completely different lifestyle that I really enjoyed. So who knows? Maybe some day it won't be just a glimpse any more.
Monday, December 15, 2008
This One's For You, Grandma
After 89 treasured years on this Earth, my last living grandparent, my mother's mother, has passed away.
Grandma Alma was the sweetest force of nature I've ever known. Her boundless energy and zest for life rivaled anyone's youth. She often had stories to tell of the trips she took to the Cape, or Florida, or one of the region's casinos on her most recent senior trip. She kept me up-to-date on the latest movies since she went to the theater with her friend, Alice, on a regular basis. And we would always discuss last night's Red Sox game, another painful loss. When they finally broke the streak and won the World Series in 2004, it was a thrilling victory she was sure she would never see in her lifetime, never mind twice.
I've yet to remember a major milestone in my life without my grandma there. Even as she grew older, she still came down for my mother's singing concerts and my niece's birthdays. And if she couldn't make it, you knew there was a card on its way in the mail. After all, she was the matriarch of our family, staying on top of everyone's lives as they developed alongside her own.
That's why Grandma's house was our central meeting place, as her door was always open. On any given day you would find a handful of friends and relatives hanging around the kitchen, chatting and reading the newspaper, or outside helping her in the garden with Uncle Dickie. When I was younger, my cousins and I would shoot baskets next to the garage of Alma's sister's house next door, or if there were enough people we'd play a game of wiffleball. As we got older, we'd pass the time playing board games or watching movies and football after a holiday feast.
There were always kids running around Grandma's house as new generations were added into the family. Often times I would find myself in the basement for yet another impromptu puppet show or new dollhouse display. Upstairs Zia Linda would be clearing the tables and my Aunt Linda washing dishes, as Grandma puttered around the kitchen to make sure everyone had a plate of leftovers to bring home. "No one leaves this house empty-handed" was her motto, even in her death. Many people brought home food from the reception that followed her funeral, and I'm sure Grandma was smiling down on us, trying to point out a dish that we had missed, making sure no one left hungry.
The holidays will be the hardest without her. She was the soul of our traditions, and she carried them with grace. I will always remember ringing the bell to enter the kitchen, greeting Grandma and Zia and Uncle Butch. The smell of homemade cooking follows me as I wander upstairs to put my coat away. Back downstairs a number of family members are already gathered around the hors d'oeuvres, trying to keep me from eating all of the deviled eggs. I snag about four, which I instantly regret once the food is ready. My mother, the eldest child, gives her annual toast, after which we clink our glasses to a rousing "Salute!" After salad, it's a rush to beat my dad to the beginning of the food line (not an easy feat I assure you).
And all the while, Grandma is behind the scenes with Zia and Butch, making sure everything is out on the tables or that there's enough meat cut. She's the last to sit down, after a few exasperated pleas from the rest of us, since sitting down was not one of Grandma's strong suits.
After dinner, Zia puts the coffee on rush order as Grandma brings out her fresh apple pie to add to the already overflowing dessert table. My mom whips up the cream, while a line forms to see who can lick the beaters this year. As stomachs settle, it's time to sample just a little from each dessert, or at least figure out which ones you'll be bringing home next to the leftover picadu (mmm, delicious, irresistible, totally bad for you picadu, how I love thee...). But I digress. :)
With full stomachs again we catch up with Grandma, who makes the rounds in each room. Every holiday I learned something new about Grandpa Al through added pictures on the walls. I can still see her resting on the couch, smiling up at her kids and her grandkids and her great grandkids, soaking up another successful holiday celebration. And at the end of the night it takes half an hour of walking around in your coat, carrying your leftovers, to say good-bye to everyone, including those you haven't seen in five years whose names you can't remember, but they just walked in the door so you gotta say something, even though your body temperature has gone up 20 degrees from your jacket and your significant other has been waiting in the car for 15 minutes thinking you got lost... :)
But it was all part of my family, the best parts of my family. The laughter after a dirty joke, ringing one of Grandma's many bells to signal dinner, the hello and good-bye hugs, the comfort, the togetherness. This is the sense of family my grandmother instilled in all of us as her legacy. And these are the holiday traditions that I wouldn't miss for the world.
I will miss them now though, as I will miss my Grandma Alma.
Grandma Alma was the sweetest force of nature I've ever known. Her boundless energy and zest for life rivaled anyone's youth. She often had stories to tell of the trips she took to the Cape, or Florida, or one of the region's casinos on her most recent senior trip. She kept me up-to-date on the latest movies since she went to the theater with her friend, Alice, on a regular basis. And we would always discuss last night's Red Sox game, another painful loss. When they finally broke the streak and won the World Series in 2004, it was a thrilling victory she was sure she would never see in her lifetime, never mind twice.
I've yet to remember a major milestone in my life without my grandma there. Even as she grew older, she still came down for my mother's singing concerts and my niece's birthdays. And if she couldn't make it, you knew there was a card on its way in the mail. After all, she was the matriarch of our family, staying on top of everyone's lives as they developed alongside her own.
That's why Grandma's house was our central meeting place, as her door was always open. On any given day you would find a handful of friends and relatives hanging around the kitchen, chatting and reading the newspaper, or outside helping her in the garden with Uncle Dickie. When I was younger, my cousins and I would shoot baskets next to the garage of Alma's sister's house next door, or if there were enough people we'd play a game of wiffleball. As we got older, we'd pass the time playing board games or watching movies and football after a holiday feast.
There were always kids running around Grandma's house as new generations were added into the family. Often times I would find myself in the basement for yet another impromptu puppet show or new dollhouse display. Upstairs Zia Linda would be clearing the tables and my Aunt Linda washing dishes, as Grandma puttered around the kitchen to make sure everyone had a plate of leftovers to bring home. "No one leaves this house empty-handed" was her motto, even in her death. Many people brought home food from the reception that followed her funeral, and I'm sure Grandma was smiling down on us, trying to point out a dish that we had missed, making sure no one left hungry.
The holidays will be the hardest without her. She was the soul of our traditions, and she carried them with grace. I will always remember ringing the bell to enter the kitchen, greeting Grandma and Zia and Uncle Butch. The smell of homemade cooking follows me as I wander upstairs to put my coat away. Back downstairs a number of family members are already gathered around the hors d'oeuvres, trying to keep me from eating all of the deviled eggs. I snag about four, which I instantly regret once the food is ready. My mother, the eldest child, gives her annual toast, after which we clink our glasses to a rousing "Salute!" After salad, it's a rush to beat my dad to the beginning of the food line (not an easy feat I assure you).
And all the while, Grandma is behind the scenes with Zia and Butch, making sure everything is out on the tables or that there's enough meat cut. She's the last to sit down, after a few exasperated pleas from the rest of us, since sitting down was not one of Grandma's strong suits.
After dinner, Zia puts the coffee on rush order as Grandma brings out her fresh apple pie to add to the already overflowing dessert table. My mom whips up the cream, while a line forms to see who can lick the beaters this year. As stomachs settle, it's time to sample just a little from each dessert, or at least figure out which ones you'll be bringing home next to the leftover picadu (mmm, delicious, irresistible, totally bad for you picadu, how I love thee...). But I digress. :)
With full stomachs again we catch up with Grandma, who makes the rounds in each room. Every holiday I learned something new about Grandpa Al through added pictures on the walls. I can still see her resting on the couch, smiling up at her kids and her grandkids and her great grandkids, soaking up another successful holiday celebration. And at the end of the night it takes half an hour of walking around in your coat, carrying your leftovers, to say good-bye to everyone, including those you haven't seen in five years whose names you can't remember, but they just walked in the door so you gotta say something, even though your body temperature has gone up 20 degrees from your jacket and your significant other has been waiting in the car for 15 minutes thinking you got lost... :)
But it was all part of my family, the best parts of my family. The laughter after a dirty joke, ringing one of Grandma's many bells to signal dinner, the hello and good-bye hugs, the comfort, the togetherness. This is the sense of family my grandmother instilled in all of us as her legacy. And these are the holiday traditions that I wouldn't miss for the world.
I will miss them now though, as I will miss my Grandma Alma.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Slacker
I know, I'm a terrible slacker. It's been AGES since I've written in this thing. However, this weekend I had absolutely nothing planned, so I'm back! :)
A number of things have happened since my last post. I spent a day in Salem with some friends, walking around on the cobblestone and taking in the ghoulish, eerie ambiance. Well, actually, we got there in the middle of the afternoon so there were a ton of people and it wasn't really any different from any other tourist town. But at night we took a walking tour, with a terrific tour guide who brought the eerie parts of Salem to life, so that was great.
Unfortunately, walking for six hours on cobblestone did not set well with my knees, which are horribly out of shape (which goes along with the rest of my body!). Plus, a few days before that C and I went to visit some friends, my friend in NY and his friend in Maine, so there was plenty of walking done at that time as well. So at my annual physical the doctor determined I had sprained my knee, which shows you how much good walking does. :) Okay, okay, so it's probably the fact I don't actually do much walking that caused this, I'll admit it. But with a physical therapy appointment coming up, I should be up and running (well, more like regularly walking) in no time.
And there's more Fred medical news as well (what can I say, she's a geriatric cat by the vet's standards). Of course, whenever I hear the word geriatric it makes me think of nursing homes and retirement communities, not so much my cat that jumps on furniture and plays with squeaky mouse toys. But I digress...
Anyway, she went in for dental surgery this past Tuesday. Now, I know what you're thinking. You think I'm one of those people who takes their pet in for regular dental work and play dates and psychic readings or whatever. No. I couldn't afford it, nor am I that crazy. This is the last medical procedure I can do for this cat. The vet suggested it because her teeth were almost rotting out of her head, leaving the potential for bacteria to break loose and get into her blood stream, causing yet another infection. I just spent $800 on this cat- I want my money's worth! (Oh yeah, plus I love her to death and all that stuff). :)
Thankfully she made it through the procedure just fine, although I once again have the pleasure of giving her antibiotics. This time it's in pill form rather than liquid, which means no more pink spots on my couch, but it does mean more crushed medication that I have to do since pilling her is like pulling teeth (and the pun is totally intended there).
So that's pretty much my life at this point- knee strain and cat meds. Pretty soon I'll be adding to that a balanced diet and regular exercise regimen, to bring up my good cholesterol levels. Woo hoo! Look out world! :)
A number of things have happened since my last post. I spent a day in Salem with some friends, walking around on the cobblestone and taking in the ghoulish, eerie ambiance. Well, actually, we got there in the middle of the afternoon so there were a ton of people and it wasn't really any different from any other tourist town. But at night we took a walking tour, with a terrific tour guide who brought the eerie parts of Salem to life, so that was great.
Unfortunately, walking for six hours on cobblestone did not set well with my knees, which are horribly out of shape (which goes along with the rest of my body!). Plus, a few days before that C and I went to visit some friends, my friend in NY and his friend in Maine, so there was plenty of walking done at that time as well. So at my annual physical the doctor determined I had sprained my knee, which shows you how much good walking does. :) Okay, okay, so it's probably the fact I don't actually do much walking that caused this, I'll admit it. But with a physical therapy appointment coming up, I should be up and running (well, more like regularly walking) in no time.
And there's more Fred medical news as well (what can I say, she's a geriatric cat by the vet's standards). Of course, whenever I hear the word geriatric it makes me think of nursing homes and retirement communities, not so much my cat that jumps on furniture and plays with squeaky mouse toys. But I digress...
Anyway, she went in for dental surgery this past Tuesday. Now, I know what you're thinking. You think I'm one of those people who takes their pet in for regular dental work and play dates and psychic readings or whatever. No. I couldn't afford it, nor am I that crazy. This is the last medical procedure I can do for this cat. The vet suggested it because her teeth were almost rotting out of her head, leaving the potential for bacteria to break loose and get into her blood stream, causing yet another infection. I just spent $800 on this cat- I want my money's worth! (Oh yeah, plus I love her to death and all that stuff). :)
Thankfully she made it through the procedure just fine, although I once again have the pleasure of giving her antibiotics. This time it's in pill form rather than liquid, which means no more pink spots on my couch, but it does mean more crushed medication that I have to do since pilling her is like pulling teeth (and the pun is totally intended there).
So that's pretty much my life at this point- knee strain and cat meds. Pretty soon I'll be adding to that a balanced diet and regular exercise regimen, to bring up my good cholesterol levels. Woo hoo! Look out world! :)
Sunday, October 12, 2008
King Richard's Faire
Good evening gentle ladies and kind sirs. Tonight I would like to tell thee about my venture to King Richard's Faire in Carver, MA.
Don't worry, that's as far as I care to take the Old English. :)
This was my first time at any Renaissance Fair, and it was a blast. Not only were the costumes great (and a number of people who didn't work there were all dolled up), but the scenery was a lot of fun. It's in the middle of the woods with a number of different stores set up around the edge of the whole faire. In the middle are food vendors (complete with large turkey legs), rides mostly operated by cranks or swinging objects, and games including axe and knife throwing. We viewed a variety of mini shows throughout the day, and came back to watch jousting matches in-between. We ended our trip with an awesome tiger show (I love tigers) that included a liger. And there was no cage around the stage either. In fact, one of the rules was that no children were allowed to sit in the first three rows. (Screw the adults I guess). :) Actually, the guy running the show said it was a way to keep kids from getting too excited near the stage.
"Unless you don't want your kids going home with you after the show," he said with a grin.
The mini shows were a lot of fun. We listened to a three-man band play the song "Desdimona," a Renaissance rendition of the Knack song "My Sharona," and a roaming chorus finish off a set of classical music playing kazoos. We came across one dom with mad whipping skills, who used her whip to rip up pieces of paper held by her cohorts. At one point she brought a man from the audience onto the stage and placed a piece of celery between his legs. She then proceeded to use the whip to whittle down the celery piece by piece. He was very brave. :) They finished off their set by doing acrobatics with two long ribbons that hung in the air from three rods.
And then there was the jousting match. We watched the first show, where they had four knights on horses do various tricks with their lances, including popping balloons and spearing rings held by their squires. They then held a jousting match, which ended with a second match called so King Richard could attend. For the second match, our knight to root for was from England, riding with the colors red and green. That jousting match ended with another knight cheating and cutting our knight with his sword. They began fighting and the king announced they would have a final duel to determine the winner- a joust to the death. (Dun dun dun!).
But we didn't stay for that last one. :)
The last show we watched was the tiger show (did I mention I love tigers?). They had tiger cubs and a couple different varieties of tigers, including Bengal tigers, a snow white tiger, and a liger. The liger, Hercules, was so cool. He weighs over 900 pounds and has a very distinct lion-like head with tiger features. He could have swallowed one of the kids past the third row whole. But on stage he was a sweetheart, drinking the vitamin D milk they give them out of a bottle, and even catching a long stream of it in his mouth from one of the trainers standing a few feet away (adorable!). They also had him stand up, using a piece of meat on a stick, to show just how ridiculously long he is. Hercules indeed. I got some great pictures.
So all in all it was a great day. Beautiful weather, new atmosphere, fun things to see and do, what more could you ask for?
Don't worry, that's as far as I care to take the Old English. :)
This was my first time at any Renaissance Fair, and it was a blast. Not only were the costumes great (and a number of people who didn't work there were all dolled up), but the scenery was a lot of fun. It's in the middle of the woods with a number of different stores set up around the edge of the whole faire. In the middle are food vendors (complete with large turkey legs), rides mostly operated by cranks or swinging objects, and games including axe and knife throwing. We viewed a variety of mini shows throughout the day, and came back to watch jousting matches in-between. We ended our trip with an awesome tiger show (I love tigers) that included a liger. And there was no cage around the stage either. In fact, one of the rules was that no children were allowed to sit in the first three rows. (Screw the adults I guess). :) Actually, the guy running the show said it was a way to keep kids from getting too excited near the stage.
"Unless you don't want your kids going home with you after the show," he said with a grin.
The mini shows were a lot of fun. We listened to a three-man band play the song "Desdimona," a Renaissance rendition of the Knack song "My Sharona," and a roaming chorus finish off a set of classical music playing kazoos. We came across one dom with mad whipping skills, who used her whip to rip up pieces of paper held by her cohorts. At one point she brought a man from the audience onto the stage and placed a piece of celery between his legs. She then proceeded to use the whip to whittle down the celery piece by piece. He was very brave. :) They finished off their set by doing acrobatics with two long ribbons that hung in the air from three rods.
And then there was the jousting match. We watched the first show, where they had four knights on horses do various tricks with their lances, including popping balloons and spearing rings held by their squires. They then held a jousting match, which ended with a second match called so King Richard could attend. For the second match, our knight to root for was from England, riding with the colors red and green. That jousting match ended with another knight cheating and cutting our knight with his sword. They began fighting and the king announced they would have a final duel to determine the winner- a joust to the death. (Dun dun dun!).
But we didn't stay for that last one. :)
The last show we watched was the tiger show (did I mention I love tigers?). They had tiger cubs and a couple different varieties of tigers, including Bengal tigers, a snow white tiger, and a liger. The liger, Hercules, was so cool. He weighs over 900 pounds and has a very distinct lion-like head with tiger features. He could have swallowed one of the kids past the third row whole. But on stage he was a sweetheart, drinking the vitamin D milk they give them out of a bottle, and even catching a long stream of it in his mouth from one of the trainers standing a few feet away (adorable!). They also had him stand up, using a piece of meat on a stick, to show just how ridiculously long he is. Hercules indeed. I got some great pictures.
So all in all it was a great day. Beautiful weather, new atmosphere, fun things to see and do, what more could you ask for?
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Responsibility is a 4 Letter Word
It really sucks to be an adult sometimes.
Last Saturday, Fred threw up. No big deal. She's on medication for hyperthyroidism, and puking can be one of the side effects. It's happened before, plus she had just eaten a big plate of treats, so I didn't think anything of it.
But when she didn't want to eat on Sunday, I became a bit worried. She still drank water but couldn't keep any of it down. By Sunday night she was failing.
I woke up on Monday and called my vet. Unfortunately she was on vacation until the next day, but they told me to take Fred to Tufts if she couldn't make it much longer. By that afternoon she could barely walk. It was time.
I was at work by then, so our neighbor drove C and Fred to Tufts in Grafton. They admitted her (by the way, it's $128 just to walk in the door. That information will factor in later) and started her on an IV after taking some blood. They did a chemical panel and later discovered she had a fever. They also pushed on her middle and saw that she cringed while only pushing on one of her kidneys. So without doing an extensive list of tests that would've cost over $1,000, they decided to start her on antibiotics for a kidney infection.
The whole time, C is calling me at work throughout the night, giving me updates on her condition and what the cost of further tests would be. He told the vet I was definitely strapped for cash, and they tried to work with the results they had already obtained. We decided to wait and see if the antibiotics worked overnight before going any further.
I went to visit her that night after work, and she barely lifted her head. Her back was to the cage door and she looked tired. But after talking to her for a couple of minutes, she gingerly stood up and allowed me to pet her before laying back down for the night. I was relieved that she was in a medical facility, but of course it pained me to see her in a cage with the IV.
The next morning they called to tell me that she did all right overnight, and that her fever was gone. She was even eating a little bit which was a good sign. But they felt something hard in her stomach, like her intestinal walls were thicker, and suggested an ultrasound. They also discovered from the chemical panel her liver levels were off, which could point to liver failure. This information led them to believe that she could have something as serious as lymphoma.
Lymphoma?
That brought on a whole set of new concerns, concerns that, on my budget, would be impossible to satisfy. Cancer treatments imply chemotherapy, and who knows if that would even improve her life? Extending it is one thing, but if it was only to be time spent undergoing treatment, that's no life at all, for any living being.
Unfortunately, the ultrasound cost $250, and the vet said if it didn't show anything they'd still have to take more blood to determine a more definitive cause. Since I had already spent $120 for one overnight stay, and they wanted to keep her for another night, I had to forgo the ultrasound and stick with the bloodwork.
All day I tried not to think about the possibility that I may have to put my Freddie down. I've had her for seven years of her sixteen on Earth, and this was the first time that idea even presented itself. I've been lucky in that she's been a really healthy cat for most of the time I've had her. And now that her old age is finally showing, I may have a tough decision to make.
All this while having to keep up a modicum of professionalism. It was not a good day.
Thankfully, the results of the bloodwork came in that night while I was at work. They said her liver values were back to normal, and she was doing much better with the eating and drinking. They decided it was the kidney infection that snowballed into all of her other symptoms, guessing she was septic by the time we brought her in. No ultrasound combined with her progress allowed me to bring her home the next day, with two different kinds of antibiotics and the suggestion for an antacid. The cancer idea was off the table for now, so long as we kept an eye on her and had her blood checked again in another month.
I picked her up the next day, just beaming from ear to ear. She looked much better and even meowed while in her carrier, a sign that she was getting back to normal. (She really hates that thing, and will meow like she's going through the Spanish Inquisition the whole time she's in it. It really adds to the fun of bringing her to the vet, or ANYWHERE). :)
Now it's just a matter of force-feeding pink liquid medicine down her throat (and you know all animals just love that!) while trying not to spray it all over her face, and paws, and any other body part she will try to put in the way of her and the applicator. She looks like a Pepto Bismol junkie, with tiny pink spots all mashed into her fur. And we get to continue this fine tradition for a month- yay.
But I'll take it for even just one more day with my feline best friend.
I can't imagine what I would've done if the results of this hospital trip had turned out differently. As it is, I spent about $800 to bring her out of this situation alive and well. Who knows what will happen if she becomes sick again. It's just too much of an adult decision for me to ever want to think about again.
But I will have to eventually, as all adults do, with nothing but responsibility as my guide. And that brings no comfort at all.
Last Saturday, Fred threw up. No big deal. She's on medication for hyperthyroidism, and puking can be one of the side effects. It's happened before, plus she had just eaten a big plate of treats, so I didn't think anything of it.
But when she didn't want to eat on Sunday, I became a bit worried. She still drank water but couldn't keep any of it down. By Sunday night she was failing.
I woke up on Monday and called my vet. Unfortunately she was on vacation until the next day, but they told me to take Fred to Tufts if she couldn't make it much longer. By that afternoon she could barely walk. It was time.
I was at work by then, so our neighbor drove C and Fred to Tufts in Grafton. They admitted her (by the way, it's $128 just to walk in the door. That information will factor in later) and started her on an IV after taking some blood. They did a chemical panel and later discovered she had a fever. They also pushed on her middle and saw that she cringed while only pushing on one of her kidneys. So without doing an extensive list of tests that would've cost over $1,000, they decided to start her on antibiotics for a kidney infection.
The whole time, C is calling me at work throughout the night, giving me updates on her condition and what the cost of further tests would be. He told the vet I was definitely strapped for cash, and they tried to work with the results they had already obtained. We decided to wait and see if the antibiotics worked overnight before going any further.
I went to visit her that night after work, and she barely lifted her head. Her back was to the cage door and she looked tired. But after talking to her for a couple of minutes, she gingerly stood up and allowed me to pet her before laying back down for the night. I was relieved that she was in a medical facility, but of course it pained me to see her in a cage with the IV.
The next morning they called to tell me that she did all right overnight, and that her fever was gone. She was even eating a little bit which was a good sign. But they felt something hard in her stomach, like her intestinal walls were thicker, and suggested an ultrasound. They also discovered from the chemical panel her liver levels were off, which could point to liver failure. This information led them to believe that she could have something as serious as lymphoma.
Lymphoma?
That brought on a whole set of new concerns, concerns that, on my budget, would be impossible to satisfy. Cancer treatments imply chemotherapy, and who knows if that would even improve her life? Extending it is one thing, but if it was only to be time spent undergoing treatment, that's no life at all, for any living being.
Unfortunately, the ultrasound cost $250, and the vet said if it didn't show anything they'd still have to take more blood to determine a more definitive cause. Since I had already spent $120 for one overnight stay, and they wanted to keep her for another night, I had to forgo the ultrasound and stick with the bloodwork.
All day I tried not to think about the possibility that I may have to put my Freddie down. I've had her for seven years of her sixteen on Earth, and this was the first time that idea even presented itself. I've been lucky in that she's been a really healthy cat for most of the time I've had her. And now that her old age is finally showing, I may have a tough decision to make.
All this while having to keep up a modicum of professionalism. It was not a good day.
Thankfully, the results of the bloodwork came in that night while I was at work. They said her liver values were back to normal, and she was doing much better with the eating and drinking. They decided it was the kidney infection that snowballed into all of her other symptoms, guessing she was septic by the time we brought her in. No ultrasound combined with her progress allowed me to bring her home the next day, with two different kinds of antibiotics and the suggestion for an antacid. The cancer idea was off the table for now, so long as we kept an eye on her and had her blood checked again in another month.
I picked her up the next day, just beaming from ear to ear. She looked much better and even meowed while in her carrier, a sign that she was getting back to normal. (She really hates that thing, and will meow like she's going through the Spanish Inquisition the whole time she's in it. It really adds to the fun of bringing her to the vet, or ANYWHERE). :)
Now it's just a matter of force-feeding pink liquid medicine down her throat (and you know all animals just love that!) while trying not to spray it all over her face, and paws, and any other body part she will try to put in the way of her and the applicator. She looks like a Pepto Bismol junkie, with tiny pink spots all mashed into her fur. And we get to continue this fine tradition for a month- yay.
But I'll take it for even just one more day with my feline best friend.
I can't imagine what I would've done if the results of this hospital trip had turned out differently. As it is, I spent about $800 to bring her out of this situation alive and well. Who knows what will happen if she becomes sick again. It's just too much of an adult decision for me to ever want to think about again.
But I will have to eventually, as all adults do, with nothing but responsibility as my guide. And that brings no comfort at all.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
I'm F#ckin Old
You know you're getting old when conversations with friends (or co-workers) go something like this.
"So, I was flipping through channels the other day and I came across the MTV Video Music Awards."
"I remember when all they played on MTV was videos. Now all I see are shows about teens in the 'real world,' none of which I ever encountered when I was that age."
"Anyway, it was hosted by some punk guy I didn't recognize."
"Oh yeah, he's in some band I think."
"Oh, that makes sense. He was wearing ridiculously tight black pants with spiky hair and lots of make-up. He really wasn't that funny either"
"Did you see that one singer, Re-hanna, Re-anna..."
"Re-ahna?"
"I guess so. Her pants looked like they were painted on. And she was wearing heels, no lie, that looked about eight inches high."
"How does anyone function in those shoes?"
"No idea."
"These are great role models for kids. Look like a slut and make it in the music business."
"Well, there are the Jonas Brothers with their virtue rings."
"Who are the Jonas Brothers?"
"Some boy band. They look about 15."
"Well geez, I hope they're still virgins at 15!"
"Remember when Jessica Simpson claimed she was a virgin? That didn't last long."
"But that was years ago before she got married. At least she waited that long."
"Yeah, and she was what? 23 or something?"
"I think so. That's a long time to wait in this day and age."
"No kidding. There are a number of famous teens right now having babies. Can you imagine? And I don't know any teen pregnancies that end up like in Juno. Or even Knocked Up."
"Yeah, but those are just movies, and comedies at that. They're obviously overdone to be funny. And I would hope people would recognize that."
"Older, wiser people, yes. Hormonal teenagers, not so much."
"Did I tell you a group of teenagers threw a rock at my car the other day?"
"Seriously?"
"Yup. Never mind the damage to my car, someone could get hurt."
"Damn punk kids."
We're calling teenagers punk kids.
I remember being a high school kid. I remember being a college student. But I don't remember making the transition from being one of those things to complaining about them.
At least I'm not calling them whipper-snappers yet. :)
"So, I was flipping through channels the other day and I came across the MTV Video Music Awards."
"I remember when all they played on MTV was videos. Now all I see are shows about teens in the 'real world,' none of which I ever encountered when I was that age."
"Anyway, it was hosted by some punk guy I didn't recognize."
"Oh yeah, he's in some band I think."
"Oh, that makes sense. He was wearing ridiculously tight black pants with spiky hair and lots of make-up. He really wasn't that funny either"
"Did you see that one singer, Re-hanna, Re-anna..."
"Re-ahna?"
"I guess so. Her pants looked like they were painted on. And she was wearing heels, no lie, that looked about eight inches high."
"How does anyone function in those shoes?"
"No idea."
"These are great role models for kids. Look like a slut and make it in the music business."
"Well, there are the Jonas Brothers with their virtue rings."
"Who are the Jonas Brothers?"
"Some boy band. They look about 15."
"Well geez, I hope they're still virgins at 15!"
"Remember when Jessica Simpson claimed she was a virgin? That didn't last long."
"But that was years ago before she got married. At least she waited that long."
"Yeah, and she was what? 23 or something?"
"I think so. That's a long time to wait in this day and age."
"No kidding. There are a number of famous teens right now having babies. Can you imagine? And I don't know any teen pregnancies that end up like in Juno. Or even Knocked Up."
"Yeah, but those are just movies, and comedies at that. They're obviously overdone to be funny. And I would hope people would recognize that."
"Older, wiser people, yes. Hormonal teenagers, not so much."
"Did I tell you a group of teenagers threw a rock at my car the other day?"
"Seriously?"
"Yup. Never mind the damage to my car, someone could get hurt."
"Damn punk kids."
We're calling teenagers punk kids.
I remember being a high school kid. I remember being a college student. But I don't remember making the transition from being one of those things to complaining about them.
At least I'm not calling them whipper-snappers yet. :)
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