The call came at about 6:45 this morning; Super was in the live trap we'd left in our neighbors' yard. We went down to get him out, and hooked him up to our leash. Which he bit halfway through, immediately. The neighbor brought out a steel-corded run line for us to put him on, and I was able to walk him back down the street to our house. I got him into the garage. Up to the door. Halfway inside. And then he slipped out of his collar and was gone. I officially admit defeat. We've reset the trap and put in calls to both Animal Control and the rescue. Assuming we are able to capture him again,...
Super is still at large. When the entire night passed without a single sighting, I concluded he'd finally left the neighborhood. Then we got a phone call early this morning, and the hunt was on again. When we couldn't find him, we came home, and five minutes later a nice lady walking her dog rang the bell to let us know he was sitting in our neighbor's yard, right across the street. The ensuing chase can only be described as completely comical, culminating in the Pinnacle of Ridiculous when Super neatly flew down our driveway, stopped long enough to GRAB THE ECONOMY-SIZE BAG OF PUPPERONI WE...
About an hour after I posted about Super, yesterday, I let him off the leash on our fenced/gated deck. I'd just given him a bath, plucked about a dozen ticks off of him, brushed him out, and figured he'd like the opportunity to lay in the sun for a bit, unfettered. I was sitting right next to him. Otto did something---I don't even know what, moved his arm or breathed, who knows---and Super jumped up and BOLTED. And he was through the slats in our gate and gone by the time I'd scrambled to my feet. I chased him across the yard, through the forest, and down by the pond. I was barefoot. When I...
I spent the morning packing up for another camping trip (this time it's the Monkey-and-friend version, while his sister is away). I went into my bathroom and packed up my creams and gels and toothpaste and such and looked over the three different kinds of eye drops and two different kinds of saline solutions and... ... put my glasses on. Crotchety Old Optometrist was right. I lasted four days with the contacts. FOUR. DAYS. Hmph.
So I wrote that last post and Otto and I joked about how I'm just easily spooked and kind of jumpy in the car, and how really the worst is behind us---we're headed further north, now, and we'll take a different route when we come south again (read: NO BOSTON OR CONNECTICUT DRIVERS), and really, it wasn't so bad, and the camping---OH THE CAMPING---is gonna be awesome. I told him he was right, I was going to focus on the good stuff coming up and stop obsessing over all the people on the road who are apparently trying to kill us. And yesterday we retrieved the children after two long weeks...
Last year my daughter was misdiagnosed with Molloscum Contagiosum. Then we went to a dermatologist who told us she was surely allergic to berries and citrus. Then we went to an allergist who said no, actually, she was she was allergic to peanuts. And then her rash cleared up when she stopped eating peanut butter. That was back in September. A few weeks ago she started being all rashy, again, and because I'd had some success going wheat-free for some skin issues, we decided to take her off wheat as well to see if it helped. It seemed to help, though it wasn't the solution. So we went to the...
So far today I have: Forgotten to dole out allergy medications and vitamins at breakfast, been called to come bring something in to school on a day when it would make me very happy to never leave the house, managed to be in the shower when people came to the house needing me, become convinced that I somehow managed to get myself hired for a project that will never ever end (Everybody sing: "This is the job that never ends, never ends, never ends!") and eaten everything in sight that I'm allowed to have on this new elimination diet I'm trying to get my skin and my mood and my life back on...
I am too grumpy to live. Oh, wait. Still alive. God, that makes me grumpy. I can't even DIE properly. Yeah. It's that sort of a day. I used to be able to blame such things on my dear friend "Aunt Flo," you know, but once you hit menopause it's like all PMS, all the time, and people stop giving you the latitude to blame such moods on your hormones... even though your hormones are pretty much completely borked all the time. (Yes, that IS the technical term for it.) Evidence the first for my hormonal borkedness: A couple of weeks ago Otto haltingly complimented my dewy, glowy face---concerned,...
All day---as I worked, ran around doing various delightful things like taking my son to the orthodontist to have part of his gums lasered off (note to self: BUY MEDAL AND ICE CREAM)---I kept thinking I would find my happy place and return to my computer ready to do a Love Thursday post. I like Love Thursday. Some might even say I LOVE Love Thursday. And I've always managed to find something love-worthy even on days that weren't so great. But not today. Today my love is on temporary hiatus, and it has been replaced with a DEEP and ABIDING sense of SQUICK. I'm sorry, but it's true. And I don't...
