Ah, the joys of home ownership

This morning I got up at 5 am to WeedNFeed my front lawn. It has to be done when the grass is wet, but also there has to be no rain for 1-2 days after one puts down the granules.

So, 5 am on Friday it was. Ah, the joys of home ownership.

Not much new lately

Got my medical forms back yesterday. Did I ever mention my doctor? I really believe she has an eating disorder. Seriously, I've never seen someone so obsessed with body mass who wasn't an established anorexic or bulimic.

Every single time I've seen her, the first thing she does is mention my massive obesity. How incredibly extra-super obesey-bese-bese I am. She treats me well when I've lost weight and poorly when I've gained. It's just sad.

So, on my forms, she stuffed in the "fact" of my obesity EVERYWHERE SHE COULD!

Physical examination? obese
Is the patient on any special diet? Weight reducing (which is not necessarily true--I told her no special diets and she wrote it anyway)
Does the patient have any health concerns? obesity

On and on and on. Now, I do feel outraged and I'd like to break her bird bones between my thumb and forefinger, but, instead, I'm just going to switch doctors and she can continue to, as they say in Les Miserables, "spread around her poison".

I really assume that all people suck and am pleasantly surprised when I am able to select some out of the masses who do not, in fact, suck.

*?

why are there little "*"s scattered about? hmmmmm

I wonder if anyone will figure it out?

Monday was the home visit with the CW

Yep, our last official meeting with the CW. Now we have to finish up some paperwork and send it off to her, get our home study and foster licenses done, apply for the I171H, get our dossier together/notarized by the U.S./authenticated by the Chinese Consulate in Chicago, and send it off. Hopefully by June.

And get our passports, of course.

The home visit went fine--it was pretty uneventful. I took them on a tour, they looked to see if we had smoke detectors, and looked at what would be the baby's room. That's about it! I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition (because, of course, no one expects the Spanish Inquisition*), but I was expecting a little more looking around or questions or something.

We did see a video of when the CW got her daughter from China and they were all so cute!


*man I love me some Monty Python

L is for sheep

I work with a girl who is from Northern Ireland and she told me the cutest story.

She was nannying for an American family and was reading a kids' book with the 3 year old girl of the house. It was one of those A is for apple books, so they were reading, "A is for apple, B is for boy, C is for cat", et cetera.

When they got to L, the little girl said, "L is for sheep". My friend said, "No, L is for lahmb. Lahmbs are baby sheep.". (Being that's she's Irish, her "Ay"s sound like "Ah"s).

Oh!, the little girl said, "L is for lahmb". "No, you're American", my friend told her, "you say L is for lamb". (with the Midwestern "A" and everything.)

So, they started reading again. A is for apple, B is for boy. And when the little girl got to L, she said "L is for lahmb". My friend said that the little girl never did start saying lamb--always lahmb.

So, this Easter, what my friend wanted to know from everyone was whether we had lahmb or hahm for Easter dinner. :)

And the Academy Award for misbehavior at the vet goes to...

....


LINCOLN! (Perhaps not surprisingly, to those who know him)

So, yesterday the cats had to go to the vet to get vaccinated (for DCFS--what else?). Lincoln has a long-standing history of raising absolute hell at the vet's (jungle cat screaming, biting, thrashing about, smacking the bars of his cage so hard it once fell off the table).

Now--this monster cat has been mine since he was a baby. I know what's he's like and it's not nice. I wear my leather gloves when I have to take him in. The old vet, now, had a habit of telling me--as I was standing there with my gloves on and Lincoln was screaming in the box--that he knew how to handle animals and that he could get LPC out of the box.

On three separate visits, the old vet stuck his arm in the cage to pry the cat out and three times he had his arm almost bitten off. Then--now that the meow was (even more) pissed off--I would get to take the top off to drag him out (and then practically lie on him to allow the vet to look at him).

No more! This time I made an appt with a new vet and also got some sedatives from some cat friends of ours. They stated that these pink wonder pills knocked their cats OUT! (Liars. Well, okay, partial liars)

So I give the sedatives to the cats about an hour and a half before the appointment. When it came time to put the biggun and littlun in their cages (which, surprisingly, they like), I didn't see any evidence of sedation. *cue music of doom*

The drive to the vet was 10 minutes of alternating jungle cat yeowling (the big one) and plaintive sad cat yeowling (the little one).

Everyone in the waiting room wondered what was wrong with the cat in the green box! Is he sick? hurt? Nope, just pissed. I told the vet staff, and the vet and tech, the whole story when they came in. I warned them thaty I was not exagerrating, at all, the destructive abilities of my Lincoln!

So--they brought in 2 blankets, a leash, and a muzzle. I put my gloves on, we took the top off the cage, and as Dave would say, it was ON! They managed to get the leash on right before he vaulted the top of the cage off and jumped over the edge of the table, strangling himself and snarling/hissing/biting/screaming the whole time. The muzzle? Please...

Him, being my cat, and me, not being afraid of his theatrics, I wrestled him on to the table and the tech and I held him down while the vet did her thing. Which, by the way, included looking at his teeth with a tongue depressor. Lincoln promptly took a swipe at the vet and sent the stick flying across the exam room! Cat strong like bull.

She said if you could just shake him, then, when he screams, I can see all of his teeth. Oh, that's just great, I'll shake a pissed-off cat.

I am totally not surprised that people get eaten by mountain lions in California, when it takes 2 grown women to hold down an 11 pound cat. (They were going to weigh him, but by the end of everything, they just took my word for it.). Sedatives my *ss.

They gave me new meds for the next time I bring him in. The dosage is 4 times stronger than the ones I gave him. They said to call if it seems like he needs more.

Piper, however, was an entriely different story. I dragged her out of her box and she just looooked at meeee with herr wiiiide ooopen eeeeyesss. Apparently 3 pounds and an attitude problem makes the difference between handling a cat with leather gloves and handing your cat to the vet on a spoon. (The vet said that they've never had an owner that was so good at handling her animals, that they don't usually let the owner hold the animals while they're drawing blood, and that maybe I'd want to work there. Yay me, I'm so awesome....)

Other than the tech wanting to keep Piper because she was so irresistably cute, her visit was uneventful. Oh, except for when she stood up to put her hands on my shoulder and bled down the right side of my shirt on to my shorts, down my leg, into my shoe, and on to the floor.

The vet came back in and it looked like a murder scene!

So, they went back in their cages and the counter person said that everyone in the building had been wondering what in the world had been going on in that room. They meowed all the way to Kmart and then all the way home.

They forgave me as soon as we got home and Piper, by the way, is still nearly unconscious. This morning I had to poke her to make sure she was breathing.

She didn't even blink. Just turrrrrnnnnned her head.

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So, my new car needs a name

My old car, a green Isuzu Rodeo, got named right away. Her name was Dolly and it just seemed to suit her. My new car, a red Toyota 4Runner, has no name :(

I don't know why I haven't named her...sniff...maybe I still like to think about the old times? I just...sniff...think naming her would help me get over my relationship with my old car (I mean, really...sniff...it's time. I need to move on.).

So--I'm pretty sure the 4Runner is a girl.

She's a little bit more of a sissy than the old car, but she can still climb the curbs at Sam's club when I don't feel like driving all the way around like you're legally supposed to even though it's not really my problem that they designed the parking lot that way and it doesn't really hurt anyone except the guys driving the minivans picking up fruit snacks and a 52 ounce bottle of conditioner who do look kind of jealous but, really, when have I been known to follow the rules anyway?

Plus--she's got skid plates and an actual 4WD shifter, not buttons. That counts for something, doesn't it?

So--does anyone have any suggestions?

Car stereo for sale

So, I loved my old car. (More than I love my new car, shhh). And I've been carrying around the Radio/Cassette/CD changer combo that I pulled out of my wonderful old Dolly since I bought my new car almost 1.5 years ago, which hasn't told me its name yet.

It may be said that I'm carrying a torch for my old car, by not parting with the collection of buttons that accompanied the adventures of my salad days, and that would probably be true. But--it is time to send the ole' music maker on to a new place. After all, it's not making music riding around in the back of what's-her-name.

So, sadly for sale is my old radio. The radio that played lunchtime music for my lab friends, country music for the mud-covered at Country Thunder, and swing dance music for me.

It comes in 2 pieces and they're both Kenwood:
1) an in-dash radio/cassette/CD controller with a wireless remote (yep, a wireless remote...in the car...how else would you turn it up while you're outside dancing?) *...or making out

and

2) a 6-CD changer (that I had in the cargo area of my Rodeo). It may fit under your seat, but then I don't know all that much about your seat.

It's fabulous and I much prefer it to the radio that's in my new car (the old radio has brass ovaries, the new radio wears lavender perfume). But--Sissy Radio is a 6-CD in dash changer and it would just be stupid to rip it out for nostalgia's sake.

Plus, my hearing is probably thanking me a little for getting Sissy Radio.

So, instead of sniffling over Tough Radio, I'm willing to give her a new life. It cost $700-800 to get T.R. installed in 1997, so I'm not sure what I'd want for it yet (must ask Dave). She's in perfect shape and I've got the cord that connected the radio to the changer too.

So, if you think you might be, or know, a taker, let me know. I've also got more than a passing familiarity with the Post Office, so she can be shipped.

So I had a dream last night...

I was at a nightclub-type place--dark and loud, but what was going on was actually a "Jesus Party"! That's what it was called--Jesus Party--you know, Christian music and all.

So, we were listening to a band play "God Loves Me Worthy" and I along with 3 other people (one of whom was Tom Cruise) were performing an interpretive dance. I didn't really know the moves very well, but Tom did. Even the scarf part!

(Don't tell the Scientologists!)

So, we're there, doing our interpretive dance, and a friend and former housemate of mine mentions how the title of the song doesn't even make any sense (which is true) and what nerds we were for being there (which is funny, because...) .

Also, perhaps not surprisingly, for those who know him, he didn't want to participate in the dancing.

And then I woke up. Dave says it's a good thing I never did any drugs.

The I600A came back!

It came on Tuesday from INS in Chicago. So, now we are proceeding on our pile of paperwork! It's kind of like weight loss--it takes a long time to see any difference, but once you get going, you notice the progress.

The cats are going to the vet for immunizations on Wednesday. I told the vet that they both bite when at the office (one from fear, one from jerkiness and fear) and should I sedate them?

The office woman was somewhat ready to dismiss the idea, but asked how bad they were. I said, "I wear my leather gardening gloves when I have to take them in".

She voted for sedation, as I suspected she would.