Keepin' Up with the Joneses

Phew! I am beat. And I just realized that I hadn't even posted a word about the miracle of all miracles that happened last Tuesday night. Yes, I admit, I was a naysayer. I mean, come on, last time had burned me (us) badly, so out of self-preservation, I had to keep up my defenses. But holy. shit. Barack Obama won. Unbelievable and so fucking awesome!

As you might have suspected, his speech brought me to tears. Watching Obama, I honestly felt like I was in the presence of greatness (Come on, who can argue that Obama possesses that "it" factor, on top of being brilliant and polished and inspirational though I do wish he would change his definition of "marriage"...). And right as I sat there, overwhelmed by the genius of this man, the newscaster revealed that Obama's speechwriter (oh yeah, I guess he doesn't write all his own shit... duh!) is twenty-fucking-six years old!! So you know me, the weirdest things kick my ass into gear. Or rather, plenty of things trigger my inadequacy buttons, and yes, I have lots of them. When these hot buttons get pressed, I just suddenly feel so much urgency, like a panic, about my life. Like, what am I doing? What am I accomplishing? How can one person do so much in one day, in one decade, and I have nothing to show for? These are the questions that run through my mind. And so, I resolve to do more and to do better. You see, last August, my panic button went off with Michael Phelps and his million and one gold medals. The reporters said he spent like 30+ hours/week in the pool. His coaches were so deliberate in cultivating his athleticism-- right down to planning when weight-training would play into his workout program! You see, all these considerations went into his development as a successful swimmer. There was planning. There was patience. Even though his fame came practically overnight through this one huge international event, Phelps and his coaches had prepared for this for years. And all of it just reminded me that people succeed due to a combination of factors, some of which incudes luck and chance and circumstance, but certainly, most do not succeed without discipline and diligence.

And so what did I do after Phelps made me feel inadequate? I started walking 2-3 miles daily with Bub and the pups. Seriously, if some dude can swim 30+ hours/week, I can certainly wake up an hour earlier to squeeze in 40 minutes of walking, you know what I mean? So now it's November, and while we don't necessarily walk every single day, we do walk regularly. And Bubbey has even shed some pounds to prove it.

Anyway, now that Barack Obama's speechwriter has given me a complex, I've decided to get back to my learning to do list. Spanish has been on my list for ages, and for the last month, I'd been dilly-dallying over whether I wanted to take a week-long immersion course in Mexico over the holidays. After Election night, I booked the damn thing. Seriously, enough with the back and forth... life is passing me by, goddamnit. So, that feeling I mentioned earlier, that one of urgency, I finally moved on it. That's the thing: there's a lot I want to do in my life. And maybe I will never be the best or the most talented whatever, but I need to try harder. If anything, I need to keep the ball rolling...

I'm tired (John and the pups and I went on a challenging hike this afternoon), but the night is young. Hell, it's only 8:30. Surely, I can squeeze in a lesson or two of Chinese. After all, even fricking ancient John McCain was on the go for a YEAR campaigning...

Asia, Here We Come!

Our Asia trip is fast approaching... my parents ship out on Tuesday (after they cast their ballots), and we'll meet them in Taiwan in a couple weeks. On our weekly call this morning, my parents stressed me out with all their questions about our travel logistics. No, I don't know where I'm staying the first night we arrive in Taipei (we'll need to catch the next day's train to Kaohsiung). No, I don't need auntie to pick us up via car. What sense does that make? They're going to drive 5 hours to get me by car when I can just stay overnight and catch the high-speed rail the very next day for a 90-minute trip?? Are they insane? Inefficient hospitality.

Anyway, the interrogations kicked my butt into high gear, and now I've got the Taiwan part of our trip all figured out. Well the arrival part at least. I found a cute little budget hotel (Thanks TripAdvisor!) in Taoyuan (the city where we fly in-- just outside Taipei) with the train station right down the street. And the train runs like 3 times an hour, so maybe we'll even explore the area a bit before heading to the South. I'm totally psyched about riding the train. Seriously, 5 hours down to 90 minutes? Gotta love engineering and innovation.

Theater Weekend

The forecast is calling for rain all weekend. What better reason than to book tickets for two plays! John probably could care less (he's not that involved with activity planning for the household), but I'm psyched to see two productions at smaller theaters in the peninsula. This evening we're heading into Mountain View to grab a bite before Nickel and Dimed at the Pear Avenue Theater (I've never been). Thankfully, it's also getting us out of dinner plans with Oscar's parents. Yep. Seems like the wife freaked out about the husband's grief and mourning, so she decided the solution was to adopt another kitten-- from a later litter. The new kitten (also a savannah cat) arrived yesterday, and already Fonda wants us to go over and see him. Jesus. I have all these reservations and unanswered questions. I mean, was Oscar's pyothorax indeed caused by a bite wound to the chest (as the vet suggested is often the case, particularly in multi-cat households)? If so, why on earth would you get another kitten? Just seems really irresponsible, and frankly, I'm annoyed. I mean, I suppose people deal with grief and heartache in all different ways but... Sigh. This just seems incredibly rash. Anyway, I just need a break from Fonda. She's so damn high maintenance. In spite of this all, the new kitty sure looks cute.

But back to the theater weekend... tomorrow afternoon, John's taking a breather from football to see The Little Foxes with me at our very own Hillbarn Theatre in Foster City. Got rave reviews, so I'm stoked.

As for today, John's working so I'm left to my own devices. You know what that means: loads of laundry, vacuuming, errands. Yup. That's just how I roll. Getting ready to head out shopping for a bit. Old Navy is having a big sale, and I'm generic (and cheap) like that. :)

Puppyfest

My friend at work just got a new puppy. Well I guess Zainey isn't all that new anymore... Jen got her a few weeks ago and the pup is already 14 weeks. An adorable little border collie-lab mix. Ultra cute. I was super psyched about introducing her to Remy and Martin, so on Thursday, I had Puppyfest at our house. Three doggies, four people, pizza, beer, and Pictionary. It was a good time.

As expected, Remy was a cranky little beotch, but Zainey loved it. And then poor Martin, he got chased by both of the girls. All in all, they had a blast running around crazy. With my two geriatric dogs, I can totally leave stuff on the sofa and tables, so I didn't think twice about setting my cheese platter appetizer on the ottoman. Forget about it! Zaine was in to that cheese in no time! I had forgotten how fast little puppies dart around. Remy and Martin got so worn out, this morning they didn't even get up to go for their morning walk. Senior citizens, I tell you.

So today was Halloween. I actually dressed up. I was a punk, meaning, I wore all black, had the fishnets and boots, the spikey belt, the dog collars, a nose ring, and some other silver jewelry. Being the cheap bastard that I am, I limited my costume purchases to just the spikey belt. Everything else was borrowed (like from Remy and Martin) and then thrown together. So I didn't look totally badass. I didn't look like some tough chick who was going to kick your ass. Too bad but that's what I get for minimal investment. So sure, I didn't go as hard core as I could have, but damn, some clueless dude at work asked me if I was a gypsy. WTF??? A gypsy? Honestly peeps, check out the pics. Does anything about my costume suggest gypsy? Huh? The bummer is, I didn't win the costume contest. Someone else dressed up as Marie Antoinette with the poofy corseted dress, the white powder face, the white wig, and a bloody neck. Yeah, I have to say, she took the cake. But I wasn't about to throw in the towel completely. I also entered the pumpkin carving contest. And you know what? John is damn right: the proper tools make all the difference. I carved that fucker in record time. Like 30 minutes. Who knew pumpkin carving could be so easy. I was pretty stoked about my design. If you must know, I was inspired by the tablecloth pattern at our office potluck. I carved a bat. And frankly, I thought she turned out pretty kick ass. But I still lost out. The random retard of a judge opted for the pumpkin that had the innards stuffed in its mouth (as if it were puking pumpkin guts and seeds). Yes, I admit the idea certainly was clever but still... My design required more skill. But I'm not bitter or anything. No. In fact, I'm mighty proud.

I brought the pumpkin home for Bubbey tonight. As proof that my plan to become more artsy/crafty and domestic is working. It's in me. I know it is. Mind over body. Happy Halloween folks.

Weekend Escape

John and I headed to Lake Tahoe this past weekend. It was our first time there, and well, the place made a good impression but boy, it sure was dead. something about it being the "shoulder" season?? I don't know: the weather was great (60s to 70s) but oddly enough, most everything was shut down. And I was prepping myself for some serious shit too, like the ziplines and gondola rides and kayaking. Nope. All of it closed. Damn resort towns.

We stayed at the Marriott Timber Lodge. Marriott never disappoints. Of course the evening temps dipped down to the 30s but leave it to Marriott to maintain the monster heated pool PLUS four hot tubs. Having had my community pool shut down after October 15, I was thrilled to have water access again. John and I didn't do too much: we walked along the beach in South Lake Tahoe and then did a couple of short hikes around Emerald Bay and Lower Echo Lakes. I sure wish the pups got to come along: they would have loved the cool temps and outdoor adventures.

On Monday, we hit the town of Placerville on the way home. Had a tasty quiche for lunch at Sweetie Pies. We had gone there hoping to get a pie for take-home. Little did we know, their homemade pies have to be ordered days in advance. Total bummer. To get our sweet fix, we hit the Candy Strike shop downtown. Saw candies I hadn't seen in years. Seriously folks. All kinds of licorice plus Now and Laters. Holy shit, right? Now and Laters bring me WAY back to Clover Hill in Frederick, Maryland. Like concession stands and the Little League ball game. Crazy. There were also taffies, atomic fireballs, banana split chewys... a lot of shit I thought was long banned or deemed dangerous for consumption. Nope, still available apparently in specialty shops. The shopkeeper rang us up, and we were totally done and then he offered us some samples of his homemade fudge. That was our Achilles heel. Ended up ordering a box of fudge and suddenly, our receipt was double. Oh well, that dark Rocky Road fudge was delish!

Life's a Gamble

As much as I am a control freak, I'm learning some tough lessons in life this year. John and I were pet sitting our friend's two cats, including the one prized savannah kitten. Oscar was a real jewel; I mean aside from his striking ocelot-like coat, he had a wonderful personality for a cat. In fact, he behaved more like a dog. At nine months, he relished the company of people. He cuddled, he walked well on a leash, and they took him everywhere.

Recently, they had noticed he was acting calmer, less rambunctious. They thought maybe he had crossed that threshold from kiddie to adolescence. But then he grew increasingly lethargic and he ran a fever. They took him to the vet on Monday; she thought he had just an infection. She put him on Zithromax. We cat sat starting on Tuesday. He ate, seemed to play a bit, then on Thursday, he was noticeably weak and his breathing was labored. We took him to the emergency vet that night. On Friday morning, I went to transfer him out of the emergency vet and into a specialist's care. I spoke in person with the vet at 7:40. Oscar was doing better. I went next door to fill out paperwork at the specialist's office and at 8:15, he was gone.

Honestly, I hadn't spent that much time with Oscar, but upon hearing the news, I just lost it. Pyothorax they say. Shock, confusion, self-doubt, pity... Our friend is the one with stage IV cancer. He is devastated. Oscar was his best pet ever, his best friend, the one thing he loved most in this world. And he's gone now.

It's weird. I think of how lucky Oscar was to be in a loving home, to be taken care of in his short nine months. So many people in the world never experience that luxury. Certainly so many animals never experience that luxury. And yet, when I think of his lifeless body lying there on the examination table, I ache for his pain and suffering. I wish he could have told us there was something seriously wrong. I suppose all this time, despite being a veteran pet owner, I've been naive. I mean, what could possibly be wrong with indoor pets? They have shelter, protection, food, love... sure, my dog might limp around (as in Remy's case) some days, or she might appear a little sluggish. Big deal-- humans have our sick days too. But I guess what I'm learning is that animals are not like humans. They hide their weaknesses until they can hide them no longer. Poor Oscar. He tried to hang on, but we failed him. As guardians of our animals, we try to be vigilant but sometimes we tell ourselves we're overreacting and then shit just happens. They say pyothorax can be caused by a simple bite or puncture to the body. Sometimes by the time the lethargy is apparent, the external wound has already healed but inside the infection grows. The vet removed 100+ mL of pus from his pleural space. They found no wound on the exterior. Our friends never noticed any blood. I don't know. It's tough just not knowing how the hell he got pyothorax.

I read that dogs too can get pyothorax, usually from breathing in some plant debris through the nose that then gets into the chest cavity and causes an infection. Wtf? Freak accidents. Sometimes life really is just a goddamn a roll of the dice.

The Secret's Out

Since John was totally useless in learning the trade secrets from our last professional home cleaning (the ants are at bay now), I decided to stay home today for the visit from our cleaning crew. I thought for sure there was some new wonder gadget or super solvent that would clean like magic. Nadda. Zippo. Zilch. Plain old Comet, Soft Scrub, Pledge, Mrs. Meyers, a floor sponge mop, and a shitload of rags. 100% manual labor. There is no goddamn secret. What a frickin' buzzkill. But damn my house is clean. The cleaning army is awesome, and I'm cutting our cable to feed my newest addiction: a clean house.