3/21/2015

Well that was entertaining!

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 12:54 pm

Some years ago I posted my resume on a couple of different veterinary job seeking sites. I don’t know whether I should go and somehow de-activate those postings or whether, through some sort of computer glitch, they just got reactivated or something, but over the last couple of weeks I’ve been getting a number of inquiries regarding open jobs.

Since most of them have been from corporate practices or head hunting sites and I’m NOT going down that road again, I’ve been ignoring them/shredding them/deleting them.

Except yesterday.
Yesterday I was on my way out the door to go grocery shopping when the phone rang. Caller ID showed that it was a veterinary hospital, granted one that I didn’t recognize with an area code that I didn’t recognize, but it was a veterinary hospital so I picked up anyway.
It was a practice owner in northern California. She’d seen my resume online and she was very impressed and she was wondering if I’d be interested in the position she had open.
I apologized and said that I wasn’t really looking for a position, especially not one in California.
She said that she’d read my resume and she was really interested in talking to me.
I reiterated that I wasn’t looking for a position that required me to move out of state. Then she dropped…

“But I’d be willing to start you at $130K per year.”

!oink! 8O

Not pulling up roots and moving to a city and state where I have no family and no close friends. Not willing to go through the chaos that moving house would entail. Really not willing to move somewhere where the cost of living is doubtless higher than where I am now.
But damn that’s a lot of money!
I’m either hot property or she’s desperate or both. Not sure which, not sure I care.

3/15/2015

Sound Bites

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 3:26 pm

It’s coming on to spring and pushing a month since I posted an update so here we go.

Chuck:Chuck
As many of you know we’ve spent most of the last 2 1/2 years working to get nutrition into Chuck. I took him for a cardiac ultrasound in early 2013 because my friend the exotics vet heard a heart murmur. We tickled one of the local cardiologists (a.k.a. one of our clinical professors from vet school days) greatly by having him do the ultrasound (he’d never done a snake before) and a heart based tumor and valve failure was diagnosed. The whole purpose of getting the diagnostics done was to decide whether or not there was anything medical that could be done to get the little stinker to eat. And for a while there was. The medication worked a treat for a while, then stopped working, then started working, then stopped working again. Which is where we were when I blew pureed cat food all over the kitchen ceiling a couple of months ago.
It finally got to the point where we couldn’t keep enough food going into Chuck to maintain his hydration, let alone his body weight, and he was getting very resistant to being handled. Not a way that I want one of my pets to live. So Andrew and I took Chuck up to see my friend the exotics vet and after some x-rays and some discussion we had him euthanized.
Chuck was our longest term pet. We’d had him for just a few months under 25 years and it’s a serious bummer to lose a family member after that long.
We’re looking for a stone cutter who can make a memorial stone for us and we plan to bury his ashes later on this spring.

Andrew’s Back:
For the last month Andrew has had to sleep in his recliner because otherwise his back starts to hurt and eventually he wakes up with shooting pains down his legs. He went to see the back specialist that did his second back surgery and diagnostics were done. After an entirely wasted trip to go and talk with a physician’s assistant whose white coat still had the original creases in it about the MRI, it was decided that Andrew will get at least one epidural cortisone injection. If it works, hooray. If it doesn’t, or if it only works for a little while, then they’re going to go in with a plumber’s snake and unclog his spinal cord again. Whee. :?

Me:
I’ve spent the last six weeks trying to convince myself that it’s only February/March. The gorgeous weather has been frightfully tempting, but considering that I planted too early last year and ended up losing most of my crop of storage onions, I’m going to be completely conservative and not plant anything until after the first of April.
I also got asked to be a boards monitor on my veterinary subscription site (VIN) so I’ve been upgraded from blabbermouth member to low grade official which means basically nothing except that they pay for my yearly membership to the tune of $750 or so which is nice.

Other than that?
Working our butts off. Refereeing cats who have taken a passion for fighting with each other the little toe rags. Still LOVING the hardwood floors, and spending a lot of our down time watching Top Gear on BBC America and Bob’s Burgers.

We’re not very exciting people.

2/27/2015

RIP

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 12:13 pm

Live long and prosper

Peace

and Long Life

1/30/2015

Just maybe…

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 4:59 pm

Maybe it’s my natural reaction to the testosterone fueled f’ball hooting and snorting that’s been going on here for the last 2 weeks.
Or maybe, as I mentioned before, I’m really a curmudgeon. A blazing liberal curmudgeon, but a curmudgeon nonetheless.

But it was funny.

So I was just on my way back from the grocery store.
Heading south on 1st Avenue south I had in front of me a pickup truck with one of those family decal thingies. You know the ones that show each member of the family as a graduated stick figure, a pair of graduated sizes of flip flops, whatever all? Yeah. On the driver’s side back window of this particular truck was one of those family decal thingies with the family members each depicted as a graduated size of automatic rifle. On the passenger side back window there was a bumper sticker that read “Of Course You Don’t See Any Obama Stickers…. I’m On My Way To Work!”
To the right of me was a pickup truck with a “Romney 2012″ centered in the back window and on either a “Free 2012″ sticker with an American flag.
And behind me was a great, shining black behemoth of a Hummer. Not an H2, a Real Big Hummer.

So, as I said above, I was probably a little crotchety to begin with, but I got great joy out of opening my windows and cranking the stereo when South Park’s Uncle Fucker came up on my stereo.
Especially the “Shut your fucking face uncle fucker..” line.

Yeah, it was childish and it probably says a lot about my personality that I couldn’t deal with my frustration in a more adult manner.

But it was pretty damn funny.

1/23/2015

A philosophical question

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 5:43 pm

And perhaps one that only Tony can answer, he having all those letters after his name extolling his virtues as a gerontologist, but y’all give it a try anyway.

How old does one have to be before one can claim curmudgeon status?
Because by my count as of today, January 23, 2015, I’m 46 years 7 months 2 weeks and 6 days old.
And I am officially a crotchety old crank who will be out tomorrow looking for a whittlin’ stick.

A bit of explanation.

I went on my annual pilgrimage to the uniform store in Southcenter today to purchase some new doctor drag. Unlike all three of my sisters in law and at least one niece, I do not consider clothes shopping to be a dreamy, blissful experience to be savored and enjoyed. I find clothes shopping, regardless of how regimented the clothing requirements (two pairs poly/cotton scrubs in either dark blue or grey and one white doctor’s coat), to be an enormous drag. The whole trying on a piece of clothing, finding that whatever you’re trying on doesn’t quite fit or doesn’t quite suit, then going back to the racks to browse and find something more appropriate, is a challenge (I’m built funny and off the rack clothes don’t often fit well) and a bore. The only thing that might have made today’s pilgrimage worse would have been if I had actually acceded to the office manager’s wishes and done my shopping at the place in the Auburn Super Mall (half an hour’s drive and at least 15 minutes in the parking lot and walking through the mall to get to the place) with whom the hospital has an account. Anyway, at any given time when I’m out clothes shopping I can come up with at least half a dozen different things that I’d rather be doing at that immediate moment.

So perhaps my mindset was a little poisoned in the first place. However….

On my way to the uniform store I stopped at Bed, Bath and Beyond. I did so because I was looking to purchase a single twin or full size cotton flat sheet. I’m in the middle of a quilt and have found that I need a large, single sheet of cotton fabric, ideally white. So I thought that a single flat sheet would be just about what I needed. I didn’t need a sheet _set_ I just needed one single sheet. Bed, Bath and Beyond might be a good place to find such a thing, no?
No.
I believe the phrase my esteemed father uses is Jesus Xavier Christ.

Jesus. Xavier. Christ!
It has to have been 10 years at least since I last set foot in a Bed, Bath and Beyond. I hope it’s at least that before I do again!
How is it that I can walk into a store that advertises itself as selling bedding and spend, no shit, no exaggeration, FIFTEEN MINUTES bonking around like a steel ball bearing in a pinball game before I even find any bedding?
Towels? Sure. Bathroom fixings? No problem! Martha Stewart cat food spoons, scented candles that change scent every five minutes, gewgaws, thingamajigs, gadgets, whirligigs, widgets, gizmos, doohickeys, and contraptions, but actual bedding? Nope. That you’ve got to search for.

It really did take me 15 minutes of wandering around and marveling at the massive cornucopia of crap (jalepeno ketchup anyone?) before I found the corner of the store that had the promised bedding. I found one flat sheet that would suit and it was going to cost me $15.
So I gave up, left, and went to get more agitated by purchasing clothing.
Then I soothed my soul by going to the fabric store and purchasing a bunch of quilting supplies.

So is it me? Or is it the decline of Western Civilization as indicated by the fact that so much shit is being produced of such poor quality that so many people have to continually purchase it to keep the economy going that we might just as well fall into one giant shoe event horizon and evolve into birds?

Either way I believe there is a large rum and coke in my future this evening.

1/3/2015

Aw Hell, diddly ding dong CRAP!

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 4:48 pm

I’ve already edited my previous post twice so I’m just going to start a new one.

First and foremost: My 85 year old father in law has re-entered the dating scene after almost a year of being a widower. After a Christmas Eve dinner of an enormous mixed salad and warm rye bread with butter he said to me: “Margaret, my profile on the dating sites mentions that one of the things I’m looking for in life is a good loaf of rye bread. I think that this one was it!” :D
I’m touched! Even just telling people about it makes me tear up a little bit.

Secondly:
Photos!
Kawainui
Kawainui

The Fish Pot Store (I wish I remembered the name, it was a cool spot) in Salt Lake had a pond-urn similar to what we wanted to put together only bigger. I do love water lilies.

Fish Pot Store Lily

Fish Pot Store Lily

And I couldn’t for the life of me get close enough to this bougainvillea bush behind the Fish Pot Store to get a shot of the sulphur yellow butterflies that were flittering about in it, but it’s a cool bush anyway.
bouganvilla

This, according to the dudes at Koolau, isn’t a water lily. God only knows what a “Yellow Snowflake” is, but it’s pretty and it blooms like crazy.
yellow snowflake

And if you should ever happen to be at one of the Costco-s on Oahu and see some of this stuff I’ve got two things to say. One: Buy it! It’s SERIOUSLY YUM. And two is: SEND ME SOME! Andrew also notes that it makes a great mixer with vodka, but my take on it is…. why mess it up with vodka?buy me some!

Okay. Really. I think I’m done now.

So where the hell have you been?

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 4:24 pm

I hear y’all asking.
But wait! Margaret, weren’t you going to post some Hawaii photos? And haven’t you been back for almost a week? And WTF happened with the New Year’s party?

Okay, long story short.
We went to two different Costco-s three separate times in the space of four days.
We cooperatively served Christmas dinner to sixteen people as a part of which I prepared five loaves of rye bread and ten of the most enormous twice baked potatoes that I’ve ever seen. Seriously, each potato had to have weighed something like two pounds.
We drove to two different Koolau Farmer’s Garden Supply stores, Lowe’s, Home Depot, and back and forth all the way across the island to Kaneohe in an attempt to find what we’re now calling The Fish Pot Store which turns out to have been in Salt Lake, home to the only ice skating rink in the Hawaiian islands. (Although as it turns out the flagship Fish Pot Store is in Waimanolo which is on the windward side of the island and would have been much easier to get to if we’d just given up in Kaneohe and gone to Waimanolo, but we were determined to find the one in Salt Lake. It was a long day.) We finally purchased a fish pot, unearthed the old one which had a whacking great hole in the bottom, seated the new one, filled it with fish and a water lily (although the dudes at Koolau said it wasn’t a lily, but a “Yellow Snowflake” whatever that is) and then found out that the bloody thing leaks. Or at least if it doesn’t leak it sure takes up a lot of water, but since neither of us have been up for any prolonged conversations over the last four days we’ve not called to Hawaii to find out if the new fish pot has stopped taking up water.
We had two days of bloody hot with no wind, four days of pounding rain, and relatively decent weather for the rest of the time.
We finally got to take a ride across the Kawainui Swamp which is a lovely bike and running trail across a protected wetland but was a “swamp” before it was a “protected wetland” so it will always be the Kawainui Swamp trail.
We returned the (partially) volcanic sand that my sister found in the donation bin at the Goodwill in Bellingham in a bottle marked “Aloha Maui” to a beach on Oahu. We’re figuring that Madame Pele will be mollified and if she isn’t…… well, it wasn’t us that took the sand from the islands in the first place. It isn’t *our* bad luck.
And we bought the family dinner at the best Chinese restaurant in Kaneohe which had excellent food, but was seriously the loudest place I’ve ever eaten and yes, I’m including the Des Moines Anthony’s Home Port in that list.
I got thoroughly hooked on Candy Crush, got eaten by only one vampire cannibal mosquito from the black lagoon, and no sunburn. There was a lot of loud, a lot of laughing, a lot of argument, and some tears (some bittersweet, some not).

Then we flew across the Pacific, both unknowingly incubating a rampaging case of Sisteritis or Transmissible Airportopathy, and one or both of us has been feeling like death warmed over ever since.

Andrew’s eldest sister and her husband joined the chaos on the evening of the 23rd. They’d been in North Carolina visiting the newest grandbaby (yes, we’ve got another Great Nephew on the ground, Liam Kai born in late November to Andrew’s nephew Sam and his wife). They’d been in Washington DC visiting the two older grandbabies (Ward and Beccah, now 5 and 3, children of Andrew’s oldest niece Julia). And they’d been in California visiting some of Danny’s family. Which means, by my count, they were in four different time zones and at least six different airports in the space of three weeks and when they got to their home in Kona on the 26th they both came down with the raging funk which they’d so generously shared with the rest of us. Or maybe just Andrew and I. Again, we don’t know because neither of us has been able to talk for the last three days without barking up a lung first.

Our flight hit the ground at 10p.m. on 12/28th and we were home and in bed by 11. I was at work at 0900 on the 29th. Andrew was feeling funky, but went out to get groceries for the party anyway.
I was at work at 0700 on the 30th, but Andrew was feeling funky enough to cancel our NYE party which turned out to be a good thing. I got a call from Andrew at about 3p.m. on the 30th. He was funky, having problems breathing, and he’d been running a fever all day. Since Andrew’s bout of The Funk last January turned into pneumonia and his lungs still haven’t fully recovered, I’m a little Extra Sensitive to fever, coughing, and difficulty breathing. I bolted out of work and took Andrew to the local ER where we spent the next five hours arguing with Dr. McBabyface, the ER resident, who was convinced that he was going to admit Andrew for observation overnight.
As it turns out, Dr. McBabyface lost that argument, but we didn’t get home until after 10 and I wasn’t in bed until after 11.
And I was at work again on 12/31st at 0700.
We did have a short day, but since my last client was one of those partially intelligent, partially internet researching whackitrons with a vicious cat, I didn’t manage to chuck him out of the building until half an hour after we’d closed. I went home, put on my jammies, and I haven’t been out of them since.
Our NYE was celebrated with delivery pizza, orange juice, ginger beer, and the Mythbusters Mega Marathon and ended at 9 p.m. when I fell asleep with a cat poultice on my chest.

Since we’ve spent the last three days doing nothing but sitting in our jammies watching Mythbusters, The Simpsons, The Ricky Gervais Show, An Idiot Abroad, listening to the radio, or sleeping, I think we’ve finally convinced the cats that we’re not going to be leaving again anytime soon. Pogo, in fact, has gotten confident enough that he is actually not glued to my lap at the immediate moment.
We managed to get our suitcases unpacked today and (miracle of miracles) I actually got the laundry done.
We haven’t opened any of our Christmas packages and we’ve been subsisting mostly on ramen (which both of us crave when we’re sick), orange juice, chewy ginger candy, and leftover pizza and manapua.

A STELLAR beginning to 2015. I’m not so naive as to say “It can only get better from here”, but just for any of the fates that are listening, I’d sure appreciate it if the rest of January went smoothly.

12/20/2014

Frog and Toad Again

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 5:40 pm

So here we are again. It’s 80 odd degrees with mild humidity and wonderful offshore winds. At least there are first thing in the morning. Right now (about 3:30 p.m.) there’s not a breath of breeze and the only moving air around is coming from the ceiling fan.
Also there’s a serious barn-funk that has been pervasive for the last 24 hours. I’m not sure where that’s coming from, I think it’s the new cover for the gas grill that we all chipped in to purchase for Tony’s 85th birthday. Andrew claims that the grill cover smells like vinyl to him which either means that we’re not smelling the same thing, or that this new vinyl grill cover smells like the southbound end of a northbound cow and no one notices it but me.
Me being a little sensitive about the scent of cows.

In general it is not a bad thing to be in Hawaii in late December. In practice, being on the windward side of Oahu when the First Family is in residence can be a little trying.
There have been rather a lot of identical shiny black SUVs with tinted windows and dudes in sunglasses driving them. However so long as one sticks to walking instead of driving the traffic is pretty tolerable.
In fact this morning the traffic was pretty damn amusing actually. I woke up at what my brain was telling me was 8:30 which really meant that it was 630 and only barely sunrise. My back was stiff and the bed was hot so I got up and went for a walk along Kailua beach and into Lanikai whereupon I was rapidly overtaken by a hoard of running elves. There was some sort of parent oriented fun run going on and while all the adults and mobile kids were dressed as elves (all in variations of striped stockings, red fuzzy hats with elf ears, red t-shirts, bells, etc.) the stroller contingent was pretty much uniformly kitted out in brown tutus and fuzzy mittens and socks. I think they were supposed to be reindeer.

We celebrated Tony’s birthday in true Lenzer style last night with those so inclined indulging in an orgy of cippino and garlic pesto bread and those of us who are piscid intolerant inaugurating the grill with some seriously yummy steak (and garlic pesto bread).

Since Andrew’s bicycle blew a tube when we went to inflate the tires two days ago, today we took the bike to the repair shop and then went to The Mission House Museum which was quite interesting. Tomorrow we’ll either take a bike ride along the Kawainui swamp and go birdwatching, or I’ll get some garden work done for Tony and get eaten alive by mosquitoes.

And I am planning on getting around to posting some of the photos that I’ve been taking, but right now the photos are on one device and I’m typing on another. This is Andrew’s laptop and since I don’t currently have easy access to my e-mail, the photos are gonna have to wait. Perhaps tomorrow. Or possibly later today, but Andrew has to be awake first.

Eyup. Big bunches of excitement when you go traveling with us boy howdy!

But we’re having fun.

12/17/2014

Irony X 3

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 9:05 am

I was at the dentist last week. After I left her torture chamber I stopped at the Yak in My Socks to get something vaguely edible before I went to work.
At the drive through in front of me was a car with a bumper sticker that read: “Know your farmer, know your food!”
Which made me smile for the rest of the day.

And two days later I was picking up some snake snacks at our local pet store.
Y’all may not be familiar with Bully Sticks. Bully Sticks are…… Well they’re penis jerky. Dried, desicated steer penis in attractive (?) flavors and formations for your dog to chew.
So I’m at the pet store getting mice and kitty litter when I see the display of (I swear I’m not making this up) organic, grass fed, free range Bully Sticks. They even had the USDA organic certification on the label.
I don’t have a dog so maybe I’m missing something, but if you’re giving your dog a penis to chew, what difference does it make if it’s organic?

And the third I found just yesterday. Driving along in “downtown” Kailua, I noticed that in the parking lot for the McDonalds there are two spots designated “for drive through customers only!”
Which also made me smile.

11/28/2014

To the best story goes the best care?

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 9:08 pm

Matt, having extensive experience in emergency medicine, probably knows the answer to this, but he probably can’t tell me. When you enter the realms of emergency medicine they probably make you take an oath not to reveal Certain Workings of the average ER on pain of being transferred to the maternity ward or something.

So since the genesis of this story begins with Chuck’s heart murmur, y’all will have to excuse me while I lay down some background.

Chuck, who will be 26 next spring, has never, EVER been an easy feeder.
About two years ago Chuck started in on one of his prolonged fasting periods. We’re familiar with them and they’re not unusual for male Ball Pythons so for a while we just ignored it. When the fasting had gone on for what we deemed long enough we started to assist feed (basically dip a dead mouse in olive oil and shove it down the snake’s throat…. isn’t veterinary medicine glamorous?).
Chuck, usually a fairly placid and phlegmatic snake, resolutely refused to be assist fed. We’d get the mouse partway down his gullet when *YACK* back it’d come.
So I took Chuck to my buddies at The Bird and Exotic Clinic of Seattle. In short order Tracy diagnosed a heart murmur, Dan ran his ultrasound over Chuck’s chest, we all agreed that Chuck’s heart looked a little enlarged and I arranged with a cardiologist friend of mine to do a cardiac ultrasound. For what it’s worth, if you want to make a veterinary cardiologist happy, ask him to do an ultrasound on a species that he’s never examined before. Toby was enchanted to be asked to do an echocardiogram on a snake.
So Chuck has been on heart meds ever since. Sometimes the medication works and he eats, sometimes it doesn’t and he won’t. When Chuck won’t eat voluntarily we tube feed him. We both realize that this is a failing proposition and Chuck’s end will come sooner rather than later, but for right now, tube feeding it is.

Chuck has refused to eat now since mid-June and we’ve been tube feeding him a revolting slurry of warm pureed canned cat food mixed with this horrendous powdered stuff called Carnivore Care. Tube feeding what basically amounts to a tube is really pretty easy. You make up your horrid slurry, fill a 60cc catheter tip syringe with it, attach an 18 gauge red rubber feeding tube, shove the feeding tube down the snake tube then fill the snake with the slurry. Easy peasy. Except when it isn’t.

Something went wrong with our feeding efforts today. The canned cat food we’ve been feeding the cats (and thus the snake) recently is (ergh) a little chunky. I thought I’d mashed up all the chunks, but one apparently got through and was craftily big enough to fit into the syringe, but not big enough to fit all the way down the feeding tube.
So we’re about 15cc into feeding when SPLORTCH!
The feeding tube disconnected from the syringe and the pressure I’d been applying to the syringe resulted in me firing pureed cat food and Carnivore Care *everywhere*. All over Andrew (he was holding the snake), all over the stove, the ceiling, the cupboards. The syringe wasn’t completely empty and Chuck hadn’t had near as much slurry as he needed, so we rolled our eyes, said a few Special Words, and re-attached the syringe to the feeding tube to finish the job.
SPLORTCH!!
Okay, NOW we’re done.

Andrew went to put the snake back in his tank and mop himself off (he was _drenched_), I went to grab rags and buckets and was presently standing on a chair in the kitchen mopping the sludge off the ceiling.
Andrew came in, sans pureed cat food, with the mop. Much frenetic cleaning.
Andrew had to move my chair to mop so I got down and was wiping down cupboards when I noticed more glop on the ceiling. I asked Andrew to shove the chair back to me so I could finish up.
“Okay, but be careful, the floor is slippery!”
So standing on a chair on a wet kitchen floor with soapsuds running down my arm and pureed cat food glop dripping from the ceiling I suddenly started to laugh.
Andrew asked me why I was laughing.
“Understand that I don’t *want* this to happen, but…. what do you suppose the reaction would be in the ER if I did fall off this chair and crack my head and when they asked me what had happened I said ‘Well, I was cleaning up the ceiling in the kitchen after I’d sprayed pureed cat food all over while trying to tube feed my snake…’ I mean, especially if you brought me in covered in pureed cat food and me with glop in my hair and (ecch!) in my EAR….”

Which got us both to wondering.
Sure if you’re in a car accident and break your arm you’re going to get care at the ER. They’ll be efficient and so on, but you know the attitude would be something along the lines of: “meh! It’s just a car accident. It’s just a broken arm.”
And the guy that comes in after having been “baking an apple pie in the nude and I slipped and fell on the apple but my hands were covered with butter and the apple was slippery and….” is going to get a LOT of attention from the ER nurses, the on call proctologist, and any random intern that happens to walk past. But probably, people being people, the ER staff is probably going to make you wait if for no other reason than they’d have to stop laughing before they could attend you. And probably at least _some_ of the wait would be what we tend to call a “stupid tax”.
But what happens with the person who has injured themselves in some spectacularly weird, and yet verifiable, way that isn’t a result of stupidity?

And I really _didn’t_ want to fall off that chair and crack my head on the soapy floor, but I’d probably have gotten a _lot_ of attention if I had.

11/7/2014

Just a Passing Thought

Uncle AndrewUncle Andrew
Filed under: @ 8:44 am

There has been a lot of chatter lately about the Authorization for Use of Military Force. I have little to say on the matter, save this: I don’t feel comfortable with any governmental doctrine whose acronym sounds like a monster swallowing the world in one bite.

*AUMF*

11/5/2014

Sociology?

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 11:29 am

One one of the roads I take on my way home from work (Yes, I drive a different route to and from work. Don’t ask why, it’ll just make you crazy.) there are rumble strips across both lanes.

I am not sure why there are rumble strips, possibly to make people more aware of their surroundings – it’s a residential street but a busy arterial – but there it is, the rumble strips are there.

Every day on my way home from work I try to aim my tires so that they go in between the rows of raised bumps. Again, I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the challenge, maybe it’s an innate need to not have any more noise than is absolutely necessary at the time, who knows?

I’ve driven this route almost exclusively for the last 8 years. And every single time I try to miss the bumps. However it’s only been in the last several months that I’ve noticed that other cars mostly do the same thing. Probably 90% of the cars I see driving in front of me adjust their tangent a little bit so they miss the bumps (or not). I have never seen anyone purposely shift so as to hit the bumps.

And on my way home the other day I got to wondering. Both why *I* do it and why everyone else does. I’m sure there’s some explanation for it….. or at least someone who could come up with a plan for a scientific study to look at the phenomenon (if anyone was interested) and I find the idea of studying it rather fascinating.
Then I remembered that I don’t like most people very much and decided that maybe sociology won’t be my next career.

(For the record I manage to not hit the bumps about 80% of the time.)

9/30/2014

What WERE everyone’s parents doing in January?

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 6:38 pm

Happy Birthday (October 2nd)
Happy Birthday (October 4th)
Happy Birthday (October 7th)
Happy Birthday (October 9th)
Happy Birthday (October 10th)
Happy Birthday (October 14th)
Happy Anniversary (October 17th)
Happy Birthday (October 20th).

And, considering that Sheri & Steve’s new nubbin was _supposed_ to be born around the first part of October, but came 6 weeks early anyway… Happy belated early birthday nubbin!

9/28/2014

Transmissible Dyslexia

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 6:37 pm

I don’t know how it came to be blamed on my brother, Andrew might remember but he’s asleep right now, but for years now Andrew and I have passed back and forth the idea of a transmissible dyslexia that we both managed to catch from Matt.

You know the symptoms. Everyone has it once in a while.
With us it probably started when we were going to some friends’ house in Renton. We were headed north on Rainer Avenue North just past the Renton airport. We stopped at an intersection, took a left, and about two blocks later I said “Did that church…. Was it really ‘Christ Church of Celery’?”
Of course it wasn’t. The sign, when more closely examined, read ‘Christ Church of Calvary’. But you know where I’m headed.

Over the years we’ve had some good ones. Andrew caught a dentist’s street sign in Bellevue as reading “Bad Mojo Dentistry” (Bel-Main Dentistry).

And just recently I had two notable ones which, in fact, prompted the post.

I was at Panera Breads in Factoria Mall blowing a gift card that I was given as a birthday gift. Andrew was waiting for our sandwiches at Goldberg’s Deli and since I am _never_ at a mall, where most of the Panera stores seem to congregate, I figured it was a good time to use the gift card.
So I was standing in Panera waiting for my croissants and scones when the menu board behind the register caught my eye. Then I had to stop and re-read the end of the kids’ menu because at the bottom of same I was certain I had seen “Neutered noodle ribbons” on offer. It wasn’t neutered noodles of course, but I do have to wonder at my basic psychic space to have had _that_ pop into my head at random.

And the second is a private school, or perhaps a charter school, that is on my way to work. Being somewhat interested in alternative schools I looked at the website for this particular school at one point and I found that it’s a very popular and rather successful school for kids who are on the autism spectrum. They have a reader board out front that I drive past every single day. And for the last few weeks the board has read “Alchemy Parents’ Meeting”.
Or, at least, that’s what my brain tells me the sign reads.
I know the school has an archery club. Alchemy? Not so sure.

9/21/2014

The Genes Run Strong

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 5:55 pm

I think I am genetically programmed to grow things.

My mother often speaks of one of her uncles, Corley I think it was, that lived with her and her mother for a while when she was little. Apparently Corley was quite a gardener. We must be related.

Andrew and my dad did all of the vetting on the houses that were on our short list when we were house hunting. I was in a ginormous awful work schedule at the time and only got to see this place about two days before we signed the papers on it. Knowing, of course, that the Official Inspector and my father had both given their blessing on the place I was predisposed to like it. However the garden sold it for me.

I am by no means done with my fall harvest. But I have five gallons of grape juice in the freezer and another two gallon bag of frozen whole grapes. I have three two gallon bags of loganberries yet to process. Yesterday I made two and a half gallons of ginger rhubarb preserves and I’ve got another gallon bag of rhubarb in the freezer. We have onions, and what must be near to 100 pounds of potatoes. Squash and pumpkins are going strong. Beets, carrots, and radishes are still cooking. Oh, and broccoli! I tried my hand at a fall crop of broccoli. And if I can keep the bunnies from nomming my poor little plants down to nubbins I might just be able to harvest some this fall. I’ve got two patches of lettuce and a planter full of cucumbers. I’ve dried herbs and made pesto and pickles and tomato sauce… although I’d really love to know what keeps happening to the beans I keep setting to pickle. They’ve all grown some exotic form of mold and seeing that I’m fancifully paranoid about botulism I don’t intend to try again. I may have to get over my irrational fear of pressure cookers since there’s no practical way I can set up to flash freeze my excess beans. What’s more fearful…..Hmmmm…. botulism or an exploding pressure cooker? Po-TAY-to po-TAH-to…..

If I had the time I’d rip out the rest of the back yard and turn it all into garden space. I’d love to be able to provide, not just supplement, our vegetables throughout the winter.

But however much I manage to do, it sure makes me happy!

9/1/2014

Dear Crabby Old Lady

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 5:18 pm

I really enjoyed getting the absolutely wigged out look that I got from you when I walked past you on the sidewalk this afternoon with a plastic peanut butter jar full of mice. I had purchased them to feed to my snakes if you must know, but since you didn’t ask I really am enjoying the thought of you trying to figure out what I was doing with a jar full of mice.

All that being said, however, I wish to point out something to you.

The restaurant you were looking forward to eating at? Their lights were off, their doors were locked. It’s a national holiday and they’re probably taking the day off.
Standing there and rattling the doors isn’t going to change reality. Did you really think that there were employees and patrons skulking there in the dark and all you needed to do was to make them aware that you were there and that they’d then let you in?

Sincerely,
I’m enjoying fucking with your world view

8/29/2014

What a Headache!

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 9:13 am

The first migraine I can remember having would have been in my room in A dorm in late 1989 or early 1990. I don’t remember whether I didn’t have class that day or whether I was skipping class because I had a headache. I remember that I’d taken 800mg of ibuprofen that hadn’t helped and I had to climb out of my athletically arranged bed (yes, athletic, not aesthetic. The room was small, the bed was balanced on desk and dresser, and the ceiling was about a foot above my head) to POUND on my roommate’s door to tell him that the country music he was blasting was going to kill me. I also remember looking at the window and thinking that a quick trip down from 10 stories up couldn’t hurt worse than my head did already.

I must have had a migraine or two when I was in vet school, but I don’t remember any. It’s just that the non-medical parts of those four years are such a (merciful) blur that none really stand out. Except one, the migraine that I got after having eaten at a friend’s house. Dinner was good. Dessert was diet Jello made with diet 7-Up. I’m usually a fan of Jello, but within 10 minutes my lips were numb and five minutes later I had little hobnailed demons trying to pound railroad spikes through my right temple. THAT was when I learned that I’m sensitive to artificial sweeteners. To this day I am extremely careful about reading packages of sweetened products even though that damned global warming has made the print on the packages so small that it’s almost impossible to read (but that’s another story).

Then I graduated, we moved to Olympia, and I started working for Dr. Neanderthal Mouthbreather.
For those not familiar with migraines…. they’re exacerbated by stress. The whole three years – God, three and a half – that I worked in that place my adrenal glands were in such overdrive that I’m surprised I can get surprised anymore. And while it took me a good long time to recognize the pattern, in my defense I was so distracted on an every day basis that I’m surprised I managed to tie my shoes correctly. That was a real slum of a job!
In those three years I did start to suss out a pattern though.
Shrieking, blinding headache once a month? Hormones, check!
Shrieking, blinding headache after sharp or moldy cheeses? Mold spores, check!
Shrieking, blinding headache with red wine? Tannins, check!
With the interwebs and an increased ability to do basic research without leaving my home, as well as the ability to talk with a large number of colleagues across the country, I’ve discovered that I am a classic migraine sufferer. We are overwhelmingly female, pre- or peri-menopausal, and tannins, molds, artificial sweeteners, caffeine, dark chocolate, soy, and glutens are by far the most common triggers. Thanks be to Zarquon that neither dark chocolate nor glutens are on my list!
Damn it took a good long time to find a decent solution though.
There was one day at work that I’ll never forget. Dr. N-M was out of the office so I was on tap for the whole day. Except I couldn’t get rid of that beastly motherfucking headache! I took ibuprofen. No good. I took ketoprofen. No good. I took naproxen, I took aspirin. Then I started throwing up. So I was sitting in Dr. N-M’s dank, dusty office filled with crap to the ceiling (hello mold spores?), the lights off and my head resting on the cold metal of the filing cabinet and the receptionist coming back and telling me when I had clients coming in. It took me more than three hours to decide to give up. And I still caught hell for leaving early from Dr. and Mrs. N-M the next day. I wish them both much happiness! :evil:
Over a period of months and a couple trips to the ER I finally managed to clue in on what was happening so I could talk to my GP. GP gave me a script for an oral version of the injectable NSAID I’d been getting. The injectable really helped with the headache so she figured the oral would be right up my alley. And the oral form did work, it’s just that when you’re taking Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drugs you really need to do so with some food on your stomach. Because otherwise you might just puke. Oof!
Having to try and eat something when hobnailed demons are pounding red hot railroad spikes through your right temple is a challenge. Eat too fast or too much and you puke. Don’t eat enough and you puke. In both cases you lose the medication you’re trying to keep down that will drive out the demons so you can stop puking. It was a delicate balance and I went through a LOT of soda crackers and Coke.
Coke. Lordy! Blessed, blessed Coca-Cola! I don’t drink a lot of caffeine. And the reason I try to stay away from caffeine is that I’m NOT one of those folks whose migraine triggers include caffeine. In my case the caffeine helps change my blood pressure and helps either constrict or dilate (I can’t remember) the cerebral blood vessels that are in a snit when I do run across one of my triggers. I like to keep my body pure (snort!) so that the minimal amount of caffeine that is in Coke helps the best it can. Also Coke syrup is an mild anti-nausea agent and at least if you puke after you drink a Coke it tastes the same coming up as it does going down (I’m sure very few of you really needed to know that).

There are a number of different options for migraine medications though. And when I switched MDs after we moved up here and discussed the problem with my current MD she gave me a bunch of samples to see if any of them would work for me and yet keep me from having to try and eat while I was migraine-ing. Unfortunately none of them really worked until the miracle of rizatriptan came around. Rizatriptan is an ergotamine vasoconstrictor that is easily absorbed through the oral mucous membranes. It’s fast, for me it’s effective, and, weirdly, both the brand name and the generic contain two of my migraine triggers. Ergot is a type of fungus that usually grows on corn. And the tablets are sweetened with aspartame. Why it works for me I do not know. It plays hell with my blood pressure, makes me groggy and maladroit for 24 hours or so (back to loving Coke and its delicious delivery of caffeine), and tastes like the bottom of a peppermint toothpaste vat, but I can take one and if I have to I can be functional again in 10 minutes. (Note that it’s best if I don’t have to be functional in 10 minutes, but it’s possible if it’s absolutely necessary).

So why am I telling you all of this?
I had to leave work early, like 9 hours of my 10 hour shift early, yesterday because I had a migraine. You’d think that after 25 years I’d be canny enough to catch it before it gets bad, but there it is. I woke yesterday morning with a headache. That’s a fairly common occurrence, but usually once I’m up and moving the headaches go away. Yesterday it didn’t really go away. I went for a walk, I had a headache. I ate breakfast, I had a headache, I showered, I had a headache.
Now a rational person would think “Ah! Migraine! Take your damn medication, chug your Coke and get on with your life.”
But apparently I’m not rational. Or at least not when I have hobnailed demons and their 10 pound hammers in the offing.
I got dressed, I got in the car, I went to work.
At which point the fluorescent lights, the ambient noise and temperature, and the strong smells started to work their magic and within an hour I was seeing blue spots out of my right eye and I was so dizzy I could hardly stand.
So I had to leave my boss with my full schedule and her full schedule and come home to lie down in a dark room and put an ice bag on my head. When the demons get that frisky a migraine pill and a Coke just won’t suffice. I slept for the rest of the morning and a good portion of the afternoon. Which is why I got up at 0600 this morning and started working on my computer (sigh!).
I do not understand why I can be so bloody stupid about my stupid head sometimes. There is some theory that migraines are a form of partial seizure disorder. I wonder if I had the stereotypical tonic-clonic seizure activity if I’d still feel guilty about getting ill and having to leave work occasionally?
To be honest I’d prefer the tonic-clonic seizures!

7/27/2014

Our Second Glowing Review of Bath Fitter

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 9:47 am

For a while if you Googled “Bath Fitter Kent Wa.” our previous glowing review of Bath Fitter was the first hit past the sponsored links. I just did a quick search and found that we were actually on the second page of the search results, but that’s okay. We need to update it anyway.

In 2008 when we were doing a major series of remodels both inside and outside of the house we decided to re-do our hideously outfitted and decorated upstairs bathroom. With regards to the bath/shower enclosure we decided to yank the whole thing out and put in a tub length shower stall. We don’t have children and since neither of us is particularly comfortable in a standard bathtub…. Well why not?
Y’all may recall the whole, sweaty process of remodeling. We’re really glad the remodeling is over and we’ve been consistently happy with the results.

And we LOVE our enormous walk-in shower. Double sliding glass doors, towel bars on the inside and the outside of the shower stall, lots of space to flail around and wash waist length hair. Very satisfactory all the way around.

Until around the 11th of July.
Andrew and I were sitting in the living room watching TV after dinner. All of a sudden in the quiet of the evening there was this most peculiar noise. For all the world it sounded like someone with a 30 gallon metal garbage can full of glass marbles pouring said marbles on a tile floor. And over it all the sound of trickling water. The cats disappeared, Andrew looked at me and I looked at him then as one we got up to investigate. Andrew went one way and I went the other. Andrew found nothing in the kitchen or dining room, I was walking down the hallway when I found glass on the floor. The water trickling sound was louder.

Hm. That ain’t right.

Opened the bathroom door and ka-BLOOEY!

For some entirely inexplicable reason one of the doors on the shower stall had broken. Like, broken into a million, zillion pieces and fallen mostly into the shower stall. The marble pouring noise was the safety glass breaking. The water trickling noise was the remaining largish pieces of safety glass cracking. It was a glorious mess. Scratch that. It was a hellacious mess and, of course, the cats decided that they had to be fascinated instead of frightened and wanted to come in and help investigate.
So long story short, we got it cleaned up (thank you to whomever invented the Shop-Vac) and called Bath Fitter the next morning.

Now the only complaint I have about the whole process is that it took two weeks for Bath Fitter to get the repair done. That having been said, however, it wasn’t Bath Fitter’s fault that it took two weeks. The doors and hanging hardware are custom made for each enclosure so Bath Fitter was working on a schedule that wasn’t theirs. It took two weeks to get the repair done because it took two weeks to get the doors and the hardware custom made.

On Thursday the Bath Fitter dude came out, replaced the doors, repaired the grout in a couple of places and *poof* we’ve got our upstairs shower back again.
And it cost…. Nothing.
The doors, the hardware, even the grout and the labor were covered under the lifetime warranty.

So say what you like about your experience with Bath Fitter in Kent. Our experience is that they are responsive and responsible and a class act all the way around!

7/13/2014

This is awesome!

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 4:18 pm

One of my more pervert online veterinary buddies posted this and I couldn’t stand not to share it!
http://www.youtube.com/embed/qKHeXC7L85s?rel=0

7/8/2014

Laugh of the day!

MargaretMargaret
Filed under: @ 6:36 pm

Wait! Wait!! Hkscxklfffttttt! (snort snort snort)

Do you really mean to tell me….. Snckxlffffftttttttt!

Okay, okay. I’m better now.

You’re feeding your dog a home cooked diet whose ingredients are (you pointed this out) certified organic. You’re feeding your dog an assload of unnecessary vitamins and supplements all carefully researched (on the web) to be pure, and natural, and beneficial and all that good shit. You’re giving your dog BOTTLED WATER so she’s not exposed to the chemicals and pathogens that are present in municipal tap water. Your dog has her own room and her own memory foam bed.

And then ksklkfxxttttt! (SNORT)(pant, pant, pant)… And then you tell me that your dog’s treats consist of turkey hot dogs and pepperoni.
Possibly two of the most chemical and pathogen laden, inorganic, lips and asshole based meat products available on the market.

BWAhahahahahahahahahahaha!

Whew (wiping brow). Thanks, I needed that.

Youth is wasted on the young and irony is truly wasted on the oblivious.


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