We just don't keep it in our mouth very well.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Hester von Prynnenstein, Duchess of Bavaria
This is my cat.Her name is Hester Prynne (don’t ask). Truth told, her full name is Hester von Prynnenstein, Duchess of Bavaria. We call her Prynnie for short.
I’ve had her for 14 years. Got her as a kitten, and she has been my constant companion over the years.
Those who know me are well aware that the two of us are virtually inseparable. She sleeps on my pillow every night, and is never far from one of our laps.
About 2 weeks ago, she was losing her appetite and, not to put too fine a point on it, piddling where she oughtn’t. A trip to the vet was in order, so on Friday last I got her in the carrier (no easy task), and took her over to the local Cat Clinic for a look-see.
14 year-old cats are approaching old age, and, like us, begin to have health issues. I am a rational adult, and fully aware of the circle of life and all that crap. Still, it’s never easy to confront.
Blood tests were done and results acquired. Although the doc said “we don’t like to use the term ‘kidney failure’”, the term “early stages of kidney non-functionality” sounds suspiciously like kidney failure. To me anyway. What do I know? I didn’t go to vet school, but I did take an English class or two over the years.
“There are options”, says she. There always are. “Hospitalization for fluid treatments, or you can do it at home. It’s easy. We’ll even show you how.” This, dear reader, is when money rears its ugly head. Economics have to be taken into account. There’s also that pesky “quality of life” nut to crack. Another tough one. I can’t really explain to a cat why she has to endure such things, much less endure it somewhere other than home. The Wife and I decided to go with home care. That means, dear friends, that every night, after we have all supped and The Kid safely and snuggly a-bed, we collect the cat, IV bag, and needle. 18g x 1”, for those readers who are medically trained (Hi Caroline and Lili!).
We hang the bag, insert the needle under her skin and spend the next 15 minutes or so waiting for the appropriate dosage of potassium chloride, for to restore some of that “kidney non-functionality”. Does she tolerate it? Surprisingly well, actually. After 4 weeks of this, we’ll re-evaluate. The Wife has been enormously supportive through this, further affirming the validity of the commitment we made to each other on that beautiful March afternoon. A typical conversation goes something like this; “Are you OK?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Are you lying?” “A little.” Then a hug, which I graciously accept.
It’s gonna be a long month.
I’ve had her for 14 years. Got her as a kitten, and she has been my constant companion over the years.
Those who know me are well aware that the two of us are virtually inseparable. She sleeps on my pillow every night, and is never far from one of our laps.
About 2 weeks ago, she was losing her appetite and, not to put too fine a point on it, piddling where she oughtn’t. A trip to the vet was in order, so on Friday last I got her in the carrier (no easy task), and took her over to the local Cat Clinic for a look-see.
14 year-old cats are approaching old age, and, like us, begin to have health issues. I am a rational adult, and fully aware of the circle of life and all that crap. Still, it’s never easy to confront.
Blood tests were done and results acquired. Although the doc said “we don’t like to use the term ‘kidney failure’”, the term “early stages of kidney non-functionality” sounds suspiciously like kidney failure. To me anyway. What do I know? I didn’t go to vet school, but I did take an English class or two over the years.
“There are options”, says she. There always are. “Hospitalization for fluid treatments, or you can do it at home. It’s easy. We’ll even show you how.” This, dear reader, is when money rears its ugly head. Economics have to be taken into account. There’s also that pesky “quality of life” nut to crack. Another tough one. I can’t really explain to a cat why she has to endure such things, much less endure it somewhere other than home. The Wife and I decided to go with home care. That means, dear friends, that every night, after we have all supped and The Kid safely and snuggly a-bed, we collect the cat, IV bag, and needle. 18g x 1”, for those readers who are medically trained (Hi Caroline and Lili!).
We hang the bag, insert the needle under her skin and spend the next 15 minutes or so waiting for the appropriate dosage of potassium chloride, for to restore some of that “kidney non-functionality”. Does she tolerate it? Surprisingly well, actually. After 4 weeks of this, we’ll re-evaluate. The Wife has been enormously supportive through this, further affirming the validity of the commitment we made to each other on that beautiful March afternoon. A typical conversation goes something like this; “Are you OK?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Are you lying?” “A little.” Then a hug, which I graciously accept.
It’s gonna be a long month.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Same as it Ever Was
Deployments are a part of military life, and Navy life in particular. My father flew the P-3 Orion, land-based patrol aircraft. When he was in a flying billet, he was deployed pretty much half of the time. 6 months home, 6 months away, in a never-ending rotation. It was only during a "shore duty" command that he was home more often than that.
At the time, the Army and Air Force were different. Although they didn't deploy per se, those families tended to move a lot more often, and lived in way more exotic places (back then) like Korea and Germany. I knew Air Force brats that moved pretty much every 18 to 24 months for years on end.
Me, I liked the Navy way better. Sure it sucked dad being gone, but abode stability was a small price to pay for having a dad with the coolest job in the world short of astronaut or secret agent. And those involve significantly more travel, from what I hear.
In any case, I was recently going through some old pictures that my parents converted from slides (remember them?) into the much more robust format of the digital image, and I came across this one:
Patuxent River Naval Air Station, July 1971. VP-49 is leaving for a deployment to Keflavik Iceland, a base where I would serve (if ever so briefly) some 30-odd years later.
The young LT walking across the ramp is my father, and the woman holding the infant is my mother. I'm the infant, in case you hadn't gotten that far. This scene is replayed across the Navy every day of the year. Always has been, always will be. Sailors walk away from their families to an airplane, ship or sub, or even a commercial airliner for folks that do what I do.
As a kid, what did I know? It was a part of life. Didn't all dads do that? I can't recall ever thinking, "gosh, it sucks that my daddy has to do that". I thought they all did.
I don't think it was until I had to leave my own daughter that I understood what it must have been even remotely like. And his deployments were pre email and international phone calls for less than $10 per minute. We got letters, most of which I have kept. Yes dad, I'm being a good boy for mommy and I have cleaned my room.
Have you ever watched one of those History Channel-esque documentaries on the military? And how they have the obligatory scene of the return from the deployment? Yeah, still kinda chokes me up.
But you know what? It makes me truly appreciate my family. My wife, my loving parents, and my absolutely perfect daughter.
But do you know what I thought was really interesting about this picture?
See that number on the tail? 156529?
That plane is still flying. Converted to an EP-3 and assigned to VQ-2, according to the latest information.
That means that sometime in the next 12 months or so, there will probably be another young LT walking on a ramp, towards that same plane, with his wife and infant son waiving goodbye.
At the time, the Army and Air Force were different. Although they didn't deploy per se, those families tended to move a lot more often, and lived in way more exotic places (back then) like Korea and Germany. I knew Air Force brats that moved pretty much every 18 to 24 months for years on end.
Me, I liked the Navy way better. Sure it sucked dad being gone, but abode stability was a small price to pay for having a dad with the coolest job in the world short of astronaut or secret agent. And those involve significantly more travel, from what I hear.
In any case, I was recently going through some old pictures that my parents converted from slides (remember them?) into the much more robust format of the digital image, and I came across this one:
Patuxent River Naval Air Station, July 1971. VP-49 is leaving for a deployment to Keflavik Iceland, a base where I would serve (if ever so briefly) some 30-odd years later.
The young LT walking across the ramp is my father, and the woman holding the infant is my mother. I'm the infant, in case you hadn't gotten that far. This scene is replayed across the Navy every day of the year. Always has been, always will be. Sailors walk away from their families to an airplane, ship or sub, or even a commercial airliner for folks that do what I do.
As a kid, what did I know? It was a part of life. Didn't all dads do that? I can't recall ever thinking, "gosh, it sucks that my daddy has to do that". I thought they all did.
I don't think it was until I had to leave my own daughter that I understood what it must have been even remotely like. And his deployments were pre email and international phone calls for less than $10 per minute. We got letters, most of which I have kept. Yes dad, I'm being a good boy for mommy and I have cleaned my room.
Have you ever watched one of those History Channel-esque documentaries on the military? And how they have the obligatory scene of the return from the deployment? Yeah, still kinda chokes me up.
But you know what? It makes me truly appreciate my family. My wife, my loving parents, and my absolutely perfect daughter.
But do you know what I thought was really interesting about this picture?
See that number on the tail? 156529?
That plane is still flying. Converted to an EP-3 and assigned to VQ-2, according to the latest information.
That means that sometime in the next 12 months or so, there will probably be another young LT walking on a ramp, towards that same plane, with his wife and infant son waiving goodbye.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
More Birthday Fun
And a new family member to announce...
No, it isn't another kid.
Now that the grandparents are breathing again, We went to another second birthday party today. A wonderful couple we met at our birth classes. Their kid was born a week after ours, so there's always back-to-back festivities.
No, it isn't another kid.
Now that the grandparents are breathing again, We went to another second birthday party today. A wonderful couple we met at our birth classes. Their kid was born a week after ours, so there's always back-to-back festivities.
The Kid had fun, too. A sand table filled with rice was pretty cool. A lot less clean-up for everyone.
Lastly (because I know you're dying to see what I'm talking about), the hosts had a raffle. The object was to guess the number of goldfish crackers in a jar. I guessed 502, since the date was 05/02. Figured the hosts were being clever and making it a fun game with a twist. Turns out the actual number was 600. The number itself didn't mean anything. I have a tendency to overthink things on occasion.
Anywhoo,
The actual prize was Dorothy.
So Lily, Toolbox, Grandma and Grandpa, meet your new Grandfish.
The Kid likes her, and The Cat seems mildly intrigued by the new addition.
As we were leaving the party, the birthday girl's grandparents offered us a little advice.
"It's a lot easier to replace it than explain what happened to it."
Lots of wisdom there. Probably based on experience.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Birthday Fun
As I noted last week, The Kid's birthday party was on Saturday, and what a day it was. The Wife went with a ladybug theme this year, including ladybug and flower cupcakes.
So the children played in the sandbox.
While the menfolk talked of manly things.
Remember those cupcakes with the bright red frosting? Yeah, that may have been, in retrospect, a dangerous move. Ever seen a toddler eat a cupcake?
The first thing I thought of when I saw this was "the first rule of Toddler Fight Club is you don't talk about Toddler Fight Club."
As for The Kid, I think she really enjoyed spending time with her "boyfriend" from daycare, Johnnie. I dunno. Take a look at this and tell me they're not smitten with each other
Or this one
Methinks it's going to be a rough couple of decades.
So the children played in the sandbox.
While the menfolk talked of manly things.
Remember those cupcakes with the bright red frosting? Yeah, that may have been, in retrospect, a dangerous move. Ever seen a toddler eat a cupcake?
The first thing I thought of when I saw this was "the first rule of Toddler Fight Club is you don't talk about Toddler Fight Club."
As for The Kid, I think she really enjoyed spending time with her "boyfriend" from daycare, Johnnie. I dunno. Take a look at this and tell me they're not smitten with each other
Or this one
Methinks it's going to be a rough couple of decades.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Just Tryin' to Help
Our good friends, the Stutts family, is getting ready to have another baby. I've written about Julianna before, and now she's going to have a baby brother.
Unfortunately, the Elder Stuttses are apparently having difficulty coming up with a name. I feel that I may be of some assistance in this matter.
You see, Dad Stutts comes from good Alabama stock. Heart of Dixie, and all that. Lots of tradition there.
There is one very traditional southern name that I believe would fit very nicely for the soon-to-be young Stutts.
I very humbly submit the name Bubba.
Bubba Stutts. Seriously, how cool is that name? With a name like that, you can do anything.
Sheriff Bubba Stutts is one law enforcement officer whose authoratay you would have to respect.
Bubba Stutts is quite simply the best linebacker Auburn has seen in the past 25 years.
When you get in a spot of trouble with the law, Bubba Stutts is the lawyer for you.
Bubba Stutts is the only fighter pilot in the Navy whose callsign is his real name.
If there's anyone who looks good in a seersucker suit, it's Bubba Stutts.
Bubba Stutts' Barbeque is the best in the county. Most folks say it's the best in the state.
It's a great name. You'll thank me later. Trust me.
Unfortunately, the Elder Stuttses are apparently having difficulty coming up with a name. I feel that I may be of some assistance in this matter.
You see, Dad Stutts comes from good Alabama stock. Heart of Dixie, and all that. Lots of tradition there.
There is one very traditional southern name that I believe would fit very nicely for the soon-to-be young Stutts.
I very humbly submit the name Bubba.
Bubba Stutts. Seriously, how cool is that name? With a name like that, you can do anything.
Sheriff Bubba Stutts is one law enforcement officer whose authoratay you would have to respect.
Bubba Stutts is quite simply the best linebacker Auburn has seen in the past 25 years.
When you get in a spot of trouble with the law, Bubba Stutts is the lawyer for you.
Bubba Stutts is the only fighter pilot in the Navy whose callsign is his real name.
If there's anyone who looks good in a seersucker suit, it's Bubba Stutts.
Bubba Stutts' Barbeque is the best in the county. Most folks say it's the best in the state.
It's a great name. You'll thank me later. Trust me.
2 Years
24 months, 104 weeks, 731* days.
At 6:35 pm on April 23, 2007, a little person was brought into our lives, and we haven't looked back since.
A lot changes when you have a kid. Most of which we expected, but there are plenty of things that you simply cannot fathom until it happens to you. It reminds me of the conversation between McCoy and Spock at the beginning of Star Trek IV. McCoy wants to know what it was like to be dead, but Spock says such a conversation would be meaningless since they lacked a "common frame of reference" when discussing it. I suppose the same thing can be said about parenting. You really can't fully know what it's like until you do it.
To me, the most fascinating thing about a child is watching them learn things. At first, they are little more than input/output devices that make noise for (seemingly) no reason. Over time, they gradually being doing actual things in response to the world around them.
The Kid smiled at me for the first time on June 23, 2007. I remember that like it was yesterday. She was sitting with The Wife, and when I walked into the room, she smiled.
She became more mobile, crawling, and eventually walking by her first birthday. And, of course, talking.
In the past year, she's become a little person, with moods other than "crying" and "not crying". She knows how to ask for things (by saying please) and engaging in what is, for her, conversation. Gone are the days where her world consisted exclusively of nouns, and now has verbs, adverbs and adjectives.
She's no longer afraid of things like grass and dirt. In fact, she's now entered the "dirty" phase, which makes getting pictures of her not encrusted in either food or mud a bit of a challenge. I love it.
We've got a big party planned for Saturday, so I'll have pictures to post after that.
* Leap year...
At 6:35 pm on April 23, 2007, a little person was brought into our lives, and we haven't looked back since.
A lot changes when you have a kid. Most of which we expected, but there are plenty of things that you simply cannot fathom until it happens to you. It reminds me of the conversation between McCoy and Spock at the beginning of Star Trek IV. McCoy wants to know what it was like to be dead, but Spock says such a conversation would be meaningless since they lacked a "common frame of reference" when discussing it. I suppose the same thing can be said about parenting. You really can't fully know what it's like until you do it.
To me, the most fascinating thing about a child is watching them learn things. At first, they are little more than input/output devices that make noise for (seemingly) no reason. Over time, they gradually being doing actual things in response to the world around them.
The Kid smiled at me for the first time on June 23, 2007. I remember that like it was yesterday. She was sitting with The Wife, and when I walked into the room, she smiled.
She became more mobile, crawling, and eventually walking by her first birthday. And, of course, talking.
In the past year, she's become a little person, with moods other than "crying" and "not crying". She knows how to ask for things (by saying please) and engaging in what is, for her, conversation. Gone are the days where her world consisted exclusively of nouns, and now has verbs, adverbs and adjectives.
She's no longer afraid of things like grass and dirt. In fact, she's now entered the "dirty" phase, which makes getting pictures of her not encrusted in either food or mud a bit of a challenge. I love it.
We've got a big party planned for Saturday, so I'll have pictures to post after that.
* Leap year...
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