The Golden Child

Tonight it was Izzy’s turn to go to the vet. I had been dreading it for the last 2 weeks, just really not sure how this was going to go. Especially after the fiasco that was Gabby’s trip to the vet when she showed her royal arse.

What to say about my Izzy girl. She’s so darn skiddish that I was convinced it would take me forever just to catch her and get her in the crate. And we’ve made so much progress since her kung-fu karate chop days; she actually lets me pick her up now and doesn’t run away from me with quite as much speed anymore. Surely snatching her, throwing her in a crate, and taking her to a place where they stick you with needles wasn’t going to do much for our relationship. But there was no way around it. So when I got home from work I set the crate out like last time to give them a chance to get used to it. I had about an hour to kill before it was time to go. When it was time to go, Izzy was sleeping on the back of the couch about 2 feet away from the crate. Ok, I thought, maybe I won’t have to close all the doors in the house, chase her down the hall, grab her and carry her at arms length (to avoid karate chops of course) and shove her in the crate. And then I look down and see Gabby, stretched out and snoozing. In the crate. Seriously?? I manage to get Gabby out without scaring Izzy away and then make my move on Izzy. She suspects nothing. I grab her in one swoop and put her in the crate, no problem. Hey, that was easy! Wait a sec… that’s what I thought about Gabby too, and we all know how quickly that trip went to hell. Still, I was hopeful.

The ride in the car couldn’t have been smoother. Bless her heart, she was curled up in the back of the crate, facing away from me, just like I had put her in there. She didn’t make a peep except when I would speak to her. And she didn’t go all Rambo Kitty on the door of the crate either (are you getting this Gabs?). You would have never even known she was in the car. My confidence was starting to build, maybe this would be a good trip after all. Still, thoughts of kung-fu karate chops were still fresh in my mind. She could be trying to weaken my defenses so as to take me down once we get there. I’m on to you, kitty.

Wrong again! Once we’re in the room, I open the door of the crate and prepare myself for the Claws-o-matic 2000 that is about to explode in my direction. I peek inside and Izzy is still cowered in the back corner. I manage to drag her out and she immediately curls into a ball against my chest. I’ll just pretend she really loves me and that’s why she’s letting me hold her like this, and not because she’s terrified. I can’t let myself relax though, because this is the cat that will bolt in the opposite direction or jump sky high at the slightest noise. And there are all kinds of noises at the vet. But she just sat there, looking around, curled in her little ball. I start to relax…. and then I hear WHIIIIRRRRRRRRRRR!!!! Someone has decided that they need to use the shop vac right outside the door to our room. In those first few seconds I brace myself for kung-fu karate chopping escape attempts, but she doesn’t move. Again, I’m surprised. Then comes the real test; the tech comes in to weigh her. No hissing, no squirming, no meowing. We weighed her, I picked her back up, and we sat back down to wait for the vet. I even made the comment to the tech about how much more well behaved Izzy was than her sister. That’s when she said “oh that’s right, I recognized you when I walked in and wondered if this was the Caution Kitty”. The Caution Kitty? I KNEW IT. She has a red flag on her chart. Dang it, Gabby! Shameful.

The rest of the visit couldn’t have gone smoother. The vet came in and fully examined her (see Gabby? They are supposed to examine you, not jam a needle in you and run like hell), then gave her shots with no problem. Izzy never made a sound, the vet wasn’t bleeding when we left, and when we got home she didn’t run away and hide from me (ahem, Gabby). So, that shows how much I know, considering I originally thought Gabby would be an easy vet trip and Izzy would be my problem child. It turned out to be the opposite. And, I figured out that from now on Gabby’s appointments will be at 7pm. There was no one there but me, which means no one sitting in the waiting room to hear the caution kitty showing her royal arse. 

(It was all I could do not to ask that Izzy get a flag on her chart for exceptional behavior, since I have to live with the shame of Gabby's caution kitty label. Can't they write "Excellent" on there or something? Work with me people! I want my A+!)

Hollerrrrrr

Yep, I said holler.

I just submitted my application for graduation! It finally feels real. I think they were the best questions I've ever answered. How do I want my name on my diploma? Well let me tell you exactly. How do I want my name in the program? Don't mind if I do. Do I plan to walk on May 13th? Let me check the 'hell yeah' box and I might just skip if I feel like it. I really hate to wish time away but I.cannot.wait for May 13th.

A few weeks ago we had our first (and only) class of this semester. Basically we were just going over all of the deliverables for the end of our research project. Our instructor kept saying magical words and phrases during the first part of class... "those of you who are graduating", "if you're graduating, make sure to", "you will soon be getting graduation applications", and so on. I was on a euphoric high from the mere mention of that word, so I can't imagine how I'll feel the actual day. Did I mention I'm excited?

Too bad I have 72948120 hours of work to complete between now and then. Aaaaaand that's the sound of my busted bubble.

Rambo Kitty

Yesterday I took Gabby to the vet. I was expecting a smooth visit but as soon as I got home I realized the trip was definitely blog-worthy.

I wasn’t stressing about this visit at all. It was just time for her yearly check-up and next round of vaccines. When I got her last March she had already been to the vet, so this was my first time taking her. This was going to be easy breezy because Gabby is my good kitty. Not that Izzy is bad, but Gabby is just more personable, doesn’t hide when people come over, and doesn’t run away from me in general like Izzy does. Anyway, yesterday morning before work I got the cat carrier out of the closet and put it in the living room so they could spend all day getting used to it. When I got home from work I had just enough time to change clothes before it was time to load up and head to the vet. I mentally prepare myself for the possibility of having to grab Gabby and play shove-the-kitty-in-the-crate. I walk down the hall to the living room and who is sitting in the carrier? Izzy. Totally inside, totally chilling. Seriously? Do you think this will happen when it’s her turn to go to the vet? Yeah, I doubt it. In true Izzy fashion when I get about 5 steps away she bolts in the other direction and I get ready to grab Gabby. I pull the towel out that I keep in the crate and as I’m re-folding it Gabby walks right in the crate. I say to myself, Self, this is too easy! Shove the towel inside and close the door. Kitty captured! On to the vet.

Of course I’m thinking this is going to be such a smooth ride because Gabby is just such a good, sweet kitty. And because Rosie was such a terrible car rider this just had to go well. At first she was ok, and by at first I mean for the first 10 seconds. Then she began to grab the bars of the crate with her paws and go all Rambo-kitty on me. She was grabbing the bars and jerking her paws back towards her trying to pull the door open. Then she would head-butt the door or just press her face against it reaaaaally hard. Next she would try both the paw and head tactic at the same time. So here I am driving (and watching out for Christmas trees) while my cat is acting as a feline wrecking ball. It was a long 15-minute ride to say the least. Ok, I thought, so she’s not too happy about being locked in the crate. I can appreciate that, what with my claustrophobic tendencies and all. I was kind of hoping that would be the worst part of this trip, but I was wrong.

Once we arrive and get in a room, I open the door of the crate and assume the position: the get-ready-to-catch-your-cat-as-she-tries-to-escape position. Nothing happens. I peek into the crate, and she’s just lying there. The general vibe coming from the crate was sort of an “I don’t think so” or a “hell no, we won't go”. I try to coax her out but only get more of the you-can’t-make-me stare. So I drag her out, literally, and we wait. A few minutes later two girls come in to do her initial exam. She starts hissing as I move closer to them, and I’m shocked because she hardly ever hisses (except at Abby Grace, who bless her heart just wants to pet the kitties but because she chases them they hide and hiss. Then she’ll say ‘why they spit at me?’) We get her weight (11lbs!) and then its time for the temperature. After three tries to pry her behind off the table and much growling/hissing etc. later, the girls decide it’s not that important to get her temperature. Way to go Gabs. So far my Gabby is NOT getting an A+ at her vet check-up and that is hard for overachiever Type A people like me. Ok maybe just me. Anyway.

So we spend another 10 minutes waiting for the vet to come in. I’m holding her, petting her, trying to calm her down. At one point I start petting her on her back, and either this reminds her of the fact that they were just trying to poke around down there or she thinks they apparated into the room and started petting her. And she starts hissing at me. I try to show her that it is ME that is petting her, and she keeps hissing. At which point I start laughing and can’t stop, and she starts hissing even more. Gotta love my girl with personality! Finally the vet comes in and he needs to examine her and listen to her heart. That lasted about 2 seconds before she started flipping out. Ok, moving on to the shots (ideally I would like to be breezing through the sections because we are completely excelling in every way, not because we are in a pissy mood and not playing nice kitty). The shots, well, they didn’t go so well. Let’s just say she pitched a T total FIT and when it was over the vet held up his hand and there was blood dripping down it. Gabby! I could not believe it. I wonder if anyone has ever been referred to another vet’s office for poor behavior? I quickly become irritated as I imagine her chart is now flagged with some secret vet office code sticker that means she’s a scratcher and a biter. I do NOT like being known for this bad behavior. Her chart totally has ‘hostile’ written on it I just know it! We were supposed to be rockstars at this visit and Gabby did not do her part. Sigh. Then he said the greatest words ever: “Her shots are good for 3 years so she doesn’t need to come back for 3 years”. Really?? Awesome! Wait, are you just saying that because she scratched the @#%^ out of you and now her chart is flagged and you think she’s a troublemaker and we failed our vet check-up??

And of course when we go back out into the waiting room I find out that everyone heard her T total fit. “Was that her making all that noise?” , “Is she the one that was so unhappy?” yes, yes, that’s us, thanks for noticing, we’re available for parties. So I’m waiting at the front desk to check out and this guy is standing there with his little miniature yorkie (or some kind of purse-riding bow-wearing teacup dog) named Daisy (of course). He puts her down in front of Gabby’s crate, saying how much Daisy loves kitty cats. I’m thinking oh good grief, that dog is about to lose an ear. Please Gabby don’t attack this dog, please don’t attack this dog. Luckily she’s still too pissed to care and Daisy survives to wear hairbows another day.

(No offense to those people who have purse-riding bow-wearing teacup dogs. I think they are super cute, just not when my cat might potentially eat one for a snack out of spite)

Finally we make it home and I barely see Gabby the rest of the evening. She didn’t sleep with me last night and this morning I couldn’t find her. Usually she’s in and out and around my room while I’m getting ready. This morning I found her under my bed, and she wouldn’t come out. When I got home from work today she was still under my bed. I’m thinking she’s holding a grudge, but I’m hoping it’s just that her shots are making her feel bad. She finally came out tonight, and is snoozing away as we speak on the couch beside me. She’s totally still glaring at me though.

Silly me for thinking she would be the easy one! That’s what I get for thinking I guess. Izzy is due for a trip next month, and I’m already dreading it. Actually I’m not as worried about the actual trip as I am getting her in the damn crate. I guarantee you she has not forgotten her kung fu karate chops and will no doubt bust them out on me.

Triple F

New Year’s Resolution #1: Update my blog more often.

FAIL.

Well 2011, when I said ‘bring it on’, it was really just an expression rather than an invitation for mayhem. This year definitely started out with a bang. Literally.

Last Wednesday afternoon I was driving home from work, minding my business, thinking about my dance classes I had that evening, etc. I had just gotten to the part of 501 where we were heading out of town with no more stoplights. Traffic was flowing as the speed limit increased to 55mph. I had just settled into a groove when it happened. All of a sudden the truck in front of me swerved violently to miss something in the road. What happened next now seems like it was in slow motion, but in reality was only about 1.8 seconds. I had enough time to put my other hand on the wheel, shriek, and s-l-a-m on brakes in that 1.8 seconds. And then I slammed into a Christmas tree lying in the road. A Christmas tree! Seriously? A freaking Frasier Fir. And, by the way, I think my ability to use alliteration in a time of crisis should be commended. Anyway, it was lying with the trunk facing me (of course). Did you know that when you slam into a Christmas tree at 55mph it makes the same sound as if you were slamming into a giant boulder? Yeah. It does. I immediately look in my rear view mirror, expecting to see the entire front half of my car and some bolts and important metal pieces flying through the air. Instead I see the FFF (freaking frasier fir) is now in 2 or 3 pieces, needles flying everywhere, and my underside bumper thing (or whatever you call it, give me a break this is not the time for technical terms people!) doing somersaults down the highway. Oh $h*t. That can’t be good. Here’s what happened next:

See underside bumper thing flipping down highway.

Immediately begin crying uncontrollably.

Van behind me starts riding my tail because I’m still putting on brakes.

Hello stupid van man driver! Did you NOT see what just happened?!

Van man driver doesn’t care. Curse at van man driver while still crying.

Look for place to pull off the road.

Wonder if I should go back and retrieve said somersaulting underside bumper thing?

Crying turns to sobbing.

Pull into turn lane to go back and retrieve somersaulting underside bumper thing.

Start pulling off and hear terrible sound of metal scraping scary sounding bad car sound.

Sobbing turns to wailing.

Abandon underside bumper rescue mission and head for the nearest parking lot. At this point I’m imagining something very important hanging down from underneath my car and scraping the road sending sparks flying in every direction.

Put car into park. Wailing and hyperventilating. Call Dad.

Try to speak English.

Explain situation. I think I said something like this: “I hit something in the road and it made a loud noise and my car is BROKEN and DYING and waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”

I refuse to get out of the car at first to look at the damage, but finally Dad makes me get out and look.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Stuff is bent and cracked and missing and broken.

I spend the next 45 minutes waiting for Dad to come. I pass the time by cursing at my phone (because of ALL THE TIMES for my internet not to work, it is not working. Facebook anytime I want? Sure! Google in times of emergency? Nah), calling my mom (to get the number for the Durham Sheriff’s Dept. because I refuse to call 911 and say that my “emergency” is that I hit a damn tree in the road), calling Ashley (to figure out what I’m going to do about my dance classes that I am most likely not going to make it in time to teach), and continuing to wail, hyperventilate, etc. And of course no one answers the first time I call the sheriff’s dept., so not only have I spent forever trying to get my phone to work, and then in the meantime seen 5 different deputy cars drive by, now that I finally have the number no one answers the phone. I call back again, and someone answers. Telling her what happened is no problem. Trying to tell her where I am is more challenging. I pulled off the road at a lawn and garden type store and was in their parking lot. The nice dispatch lady didn’t know what I meant when I gave that vague description. Who knew?

Nice dispatch lady: what’s the name of the store?

Me: Um, hang on let me see.

Nice dispatch lady: isn’t there a sign?

Me: I don’t see one…. (seriously? No sign?)

Dispatch lady losing patience: is there anyone you can ask?

Me: hang on let me run in side. I’m sorry.

I get inside, and there is no one in there. Seriously??

Me: I’m sorry, I’m hurrying, I don’t see anyone…ah! Sir, what’s the name of this place? Ok it’s blah blah blah (yeah I don’t even remember what he said)

Dispatch lady: ok and what road are you on, 501 and what?

Me: Um, hang on let me walk up here and look (ALL THE WAY BACK UP HERE TO THE ROAD).

Needless to say, I don’t think she liked me much. But hello! I was upset and traumatized. Finally Dad shows up followed shortly by the deputy. As soon as the deputy got out of the car he says “so you’re the one who hit the tree!” O.M.G. seriously? Yeah, I’m famous.

So Officer V. is taking the report and taking my license, registration, etc., and I’ve finally started to calm down a little bit. Then he comes back and starts saying big words like “tow truck” and “rollback” and “body shop” and things got a little hazy. We spend a few hours out in the cold waiting for the tow truck and chatting with Officer V (who was very nice by the way, and did you know that he won’t stop people for speeding until they are going 16mph over? True story). Finally the tow truck comes, and I tear up again watching my tiny little car getting loaded on the rollback. I get the information I need and then watch some guy named Harold drive off into the night with my car. Sad.

What did I learn from this experience?

1- whoever didn’t tie down their FFF in the bed of their truck is on my LIST.

2- People don’t stop to help when you run over FFFs in the middle of a highway.

3- The internet on my blackberry will work unless it’s an emergency.

4- I did need to clean out my car, but cleaning it out in 5 minutes or less so that some guy named Harold could drive off into the night with my car is not my ideal situation.

5- My daddy is the best. When I called him I didn’t ask him to come, he simply said “stay there and I’ll be right there”. Yes he was working and yes he was on the complete other side of town. But he came to get me and even gave me his truck to drive while my car is in the shop. I am a lucky girl.

I wonder if I could send this in to the Allstate advertising people and they could do a commercial where that guy dresses up as a Christmas tree and acts like "mayhem" in the road?

End of 2010

Christmas is over! The New Year has come and gone! I am super behind on my blog! It’s back to the real world! Well, not quite yet for me, I don’t go back to work until tomorrow. But still, it has been a crazy 2 weeks and I hate how fast it has gone by.

I’m really big on tradition, especially at Christmas. Well, in reality I just really really don’t like things to change, but I think it’s more that I like tradition (sounds better too, less crazy-person like). Christmas Eve starts with dinner at Nana’s, then Christmas Eve candlelight service at church, then back to Nana’s for dessert. Ashley and I always open one gift to each other on Christmas Eve before we leave Nana’s. Of course, this year she forgot mine (feelin’ the love, sis!). Tradition fail #1. A few years ago I started spending the night at Ashley’s house on Christmas Eve. Once I was out of college and living on my own, I would still come home to Mom and Dad’s house to spend the night Christmas Eve. Which meant that switching my routine to Ashley’s house would change 20+ years of tradition… the first year I was not sleeping in my bed on Christmas Eve. Actually I told Mom and Dad the real reason that I wasn’t staying at their house anymore was because that was the year they switched to an artificial tree. ARTIFICIAL. Yeah, so I boycotted. So now I spend Christmas Eve at Ashley’s house so that I can see the kids wake up and see what Santa brought. It’s really fun for me and I suspect Ashley doesn’t mind either, since usually she turns me into her personal Elf wrapping presents. We spent Christmas Eve late night wrapping presents, watching A Christmas Story, and drinking a little wine. One thing I tend to forget is that when I change my traditions it usually starts new ones (self-help 101). Christmas Day we wake up much earlier than I used to at my house. The kids are chomping at the bit to go downstairs and see what Santa has brought. This year they actually slept later than the last few years; normally we are done with gifts by 8am. I woke up to Sam bursting in my room, landing 2 inches from my face, and saying “IT’S 7:58!!!”. Not your traditional alarm clock but a fun way to wake up nonetheless. After presents, I head home to Mom and Dad’s for breakfast. Absolutely cannot miss breakfast, that would be a tradition fail of epic proportions. We have Granny Sarah’s breakfast casserole and it is the only day of the year that I get to have it. So naturally I make everyone wait until I get there to start breakfast (when you are as OCD as I am about tradition and most things in general, you get pretty demanding about some things). I love walking into my parents house on Christmas Day; the presents spilling out from under the tree, the stockings filling up the entire mantle, the nativity on the hearth with Joseph staring lovingly at a camel… wait what? Tradition fail #2. I always set up the nativity scene but for whatever reason this year I didn’t get the chance to do it. When I was little Ashley and I would alternate doing it each year, and one year when I was about 9 I got smart and wrote on the box “I get to do it next year”. He he, every year I would point to that and say “See? You must have done it last year. My turn!” Suckers! Anyway, see what happens when you don’t follow tradition? Your 3 year old niece sets up the nativity scene and has Joseph staring lovingly at a camel and one of the wise men in the stable with Mary and baby Jesus. I hope God has a sense of humor.

Christmas came and went much too quickly. Now it was on to Susan Claire’s birthday, 3 days after Christmas. She was so excited she could hardly stand it. I kept teasing her by telling her that we didn’t need to bring presents to her party since she just got all of those Christmas presents. She would stomp that foot, shake her finger and say “Yes you do!” I’m not exactly sure how but the older she gets the more sass she gets… and for some reason Mom keeps saying how Ashley ended up with my kids. Not sure if that is a compliment? Anyway, here are a few conversations I’ve had with her lately:

After making Christmas cookies…

Me: Ok Susan Claire, let’s wash the frosting off of your hands. Just lick those sprinkles off your fingers.

SC: I don’t like sprinkles.

Me: pause Then why did you spend the last 20 minutes decorating your cookies if you didn’t like sprinkles?

SC: pause Well why did you come over here and bring sprinkles and tell us to put them on our cookies?

After opening her birthday presents…

Me: Susan Claire, why are you rolling and throwing your new baby dolls down the stairs? Let’s don’t do that with your new toys.

SC: Well Kelly, they can’t walk. They’re babies!

It’s hard to argue with 4 year old logic. And that’s saying a lot, because I would argue with a stop sign.

After SC’s birthday came New Year’s, and then SC’s friend birthday party. Seriously? This kid now has more toys than Toys-R-Us. It was a busy week and a half filled with lots of family time. Throw in cleaning the house, undecking the halls, schoolwork, and some new furniture (more on that in a minute), and I really don’t feel like I had a vacation at all! The little time I have been home I’ve been trying to clean/organize/clean out my house. Yeah. Too bad I have ADD when it comes to projects like this and can never seem to finish one thing at a time. I go to put something away and think hmm, this needs cleaning out too. Rinse and repeat. Plus I just got new bedroom furniture (2 days before Christmas) and switched everything out with my guest room. So IN ADDITION to the normal craziness of the holidays, my house has somewhat been turned upside down. Good thing I handle change and stress well or I might be pulling my hair out. AND the cats think the new furniture is a new place climb which is stressing me OUT considering they could potentially scratch the hell out of it with their claws. Almost every morning I wake up to see one of them stretched out and snoozing on top of my chest of drawers. Yesterday I actually woke up to the two of them wrestling on top of the chest. Freak Out. So I am still working on my solution to that little problem. Suggestions welcome.

Ok 2011, let's see what you've got. Bring it on!

Sheer Insanity

Say it isn't so!

I just had a heart attack!

THIS ABSOLUTELY CANNOT HAPPEN!

I'm reading the news online during my lunch break, as I do almost everyday, when I come across this headline:

Is it time to kill off Indiana Jones?

Dear God. Make it stop. This cannot be true! Not my childhood hero! Who am I kidding, he's still my hero! I grew up with posters from all three Indiana Jones movies on my bedroom walls. I had the soundtrack to the movies on a cassette tape and I would listen to the theme song over and over and over (did I just admit that?). I can quote any and every scene in all three movies (still working on #4, haven't seen it as many times yet). To this day Harrison Ford is my favorite actor. When Ashley went to Florida in high school she brought me back an official Indiana Jones hat from Universal Studios (that I still have thank you very much, and may or may not be one of my most prized possessions). If you thought my addictions to Kenny Chesney and butterflies were bad, you have no idea about me and Indy. So of course when I saw this article I almost choked on my food. My heart sank into my stomach. My excitement about a 5th Indiana Jones movie was immediately replaced with absolute sadness at the possibility that he would be... he would be.... I can't even say it.

Steven Spielberg, you are on my LIST! And trust me, that is not a good thing.


If you care to read the article, which I do not recommend because it will only bring you heartache, you can find it here:

the-saddest-article-you-will-ever-read

Deck the Halls

I can’t believe Christmas is in a week. The elf I ordered to help me finish all of the things on my list has not arrived and I’m not quite sure when I’ll get it all done. It doesn’t help that I keep procrastinating certain things; for instance, right now I’m sitting here with my Christmas cards beside me and I’m blogging instead. I did finish most of my crafts this week (can’t tell you what they are because they are presents) and fortunately the only battle scar is that I singed off my fingerprints using the hot glue gun. I kept forgetting about the “hot” part and every time I glued something I would press it with my finger. Oops.

The girls are doing better with the Christmas decorations. I even got a small tree for my bedroom and miraculously they have left it alone. Everyday when I come home from work I expect to find the tree on the floor with ornaments scattered around the house. But, so far so good. I had to start using a squirt bottle in the living room though. Gabby refuses to leave the tree alone and has used my moving the ornaments higher as an excuse to accept the challenge of climbing higher. I’ve only had to actually squirt her once, and the rest of the times I just hold it and make the sound. If nothing else it tells me that Gabby is the instigator and Izzy is just the innocent bystander. Quite the opposite of what I had thought.

In keeping with the theme of this completely random post, there was a snow/ice storm today and of course it happened on a day when I had a dentist appointment at 8am. Luckily I have an awesome daddy who drove all the way across town to pick me up and drive me back into town for my appointment. He’s awesome like that. Did I mention that he’s awesome?

Well, I guess I should get back to Christmas cards. I’ll leave you with a photo blog of Gabby and Izzy’s Christmas adventures.

I'm just guarding it, I swear.

Why did you get a dog to babysit us?

Act natural; spit out the ornament when she's not looking...

Don't be mad Mom, we're really super sweet!