Holy Crap!

So here it is, the end of June, and I haven't gone camping--not even once! What the hell is wrong with me? Okay, true, we did try to go camping, but then, you know, my dog almost died and crap, so we had to come back. But still! Shelby (that's her on the left) and I were going to go camping yesterday, but we both bailed because of how much house stuff we have to do--and it's almost freakin' July! We even picked a pretty remote, yet on the water--not too populated site to car camp in, because I didn't want to be too far away from a vet, in case, you know, my dog almost died again...which brings me to Daisy update:

SHE'S BETTER!!! Well, at least, she sure seems better to me. Her eyes quit bouncing up and down in her head (vertical nystagmus? or something like that) and she makes her little ugly face at Ziggy when he wants her toy



and her tail is back to its regular thumping power (okay, actually, the tail thumping, I could do without) and she only needed help once getting in to the hoopty yesterday! And she's sassy! She peed on Zig's tennis ball this morning. Sniffed, and peed. That's my girl.

I did some research on this metronidizole toxicicty thing, and some people were in a LOT of pain. (Boy, I hope she wasn't in a lot of pain--but, she did get that valium drip, so I bet it paid off...) But, they (and their brain lesions!) also recovered, so...even though I was poisoning my dog, she's going to be just fine. Sheesh.

And how pathetic is it that I like to take pictures of my dogs in the morning? They're just so cute. Okay, that's actually pretty pathetic. Yeah, I know...

On a completely different note, I was procrastinating all the house stuff I was supposed to do which is why I didn't go camping (actually, I did do a lot--I staked up the squash plants with big bamboo poles, and cleaned out the side garden area and planted all these yummy stepable plants, and weeded, and then I painted the office--I'm no slacker!) and I was looking at other people's blogs--and I noticed that a lot of people have themes. You know, like--"look how cute my kids/grandkids are," or "the politics of the country/planet/universe and what I think about them" of "My Battle with Menopause/Cancer/Grief/Insert your own ailment/tragedy". And then there are those fashion ones, and the touristy ones, and the ones that are affiliated with some business or band or nonprofit or something. Most blogs have a purpose. Mine doesn't. Should I get one? Oh, but anyway, my point is, I thought I'd add a little political spin--here you go!

It's a little political. I guess I could get more political with some commentary on this country--maybe another day. It's early, and I'm still in a somewhat good mood.

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

Daisy and her woes...

So, the wonderful Miss Daisy has been working on getting better. She really has. The doctor at the lab thought she had a low grade kidney infection, so we extended her antibiotics for another two weeks. And--getting technical here--her urine was concentrating better (good dog!). Unfortunately, the poor dear ended up basically being poisoned by her antibiotics. Metronidazole toxicity, they said. But I didn't know that. I thought she was just sore from playing with Ziggy. And then it got hot and she's something of a drama queen, so I also thought she was just doing the "Oh, poor me," thing (I don't know where she would have learned that from).

So we figured we'd go to the river, and camp (that is her favorite thing--she told me so). I mean, she's been stiff and sore before, and she just looked a little stiff and sore, not NEAR DEATH or anything. But it got worse, and she couldn't walk and she was really stressed out and her eyes were all wide and panicky, so we came home. 100 degrees, in the car, my air conditioner starts blowing out hot air, and we're stuck behind a line of cars because of an accident. And my dog is overheating. But, we make it to Dove Lewis and take her in and they put her on an IV drip with Valium (um, can I get one of those?) and the kind, smart doctor asks me a zillion questions. At first she was thinking possibly a stroke, but after hearing about everything for the past three months, and the antibiotics, she narrowed it down to the toxicity thing. Basically, she gets dizzy, and then her body tries to right itself, and she just can't and her muscles work overtime to get there, and she overheats. But still--36 hours later and she's still in ICU.

However, in two hours, I find out if she can come home. Oh, I hope she can.

An Ode to Maybe: You know how I know you're gay?

An Ode to Maybe: You know how I know you're gay?

duh...

So, I now know why there are passwords for your blog. Drunk blogging. It's like a breathilizer for your keyboard. Good thing. Oh, I freakin' loouerfve summer. However, I hate typing.

Quick, get me a PBR!

You Are 10% Redneck

I'll slap you so hard, your clothes will be outta style. You ain't no redneck - you're all Yankee!

How Redneck Are You?

Wrong on so many levels...

At the end of the year, our students get their yearbooks. They are in black and white, and everybody signs everybody else's, as well as signing tee shirts and arms and jeans and faces. It's a real big deal out here in rural America. And it's only middle school. Well, as I've noted, it's a small town, and many people are related, not that it really stops anything, but...So, a student asked another teacher to sign her yearbook (see, there was a point). Of course, she agreed, and went to write something "nice" on the indicated ("Sign RIGHT here!") spot. She starts to write, but she glances around the page and sees the following:

"I'll never call you FIRECROTCH again, because you are the bestest cousin ever. We're gonna have a great summer."

Ew!

Is everybody else really that much more interesting?

Sigh. I could spend too much time reading other people's exciting lives.

Oh I'm reveling in my nerdiness

http://whipup.net/2006/05/24/30-minutes-to-a-recycled-sweater-bag/

A glimpse...

Memorable quotes from the daily life of a middle school teacher (some from adults!)

1. Johnny, please take your pants off your head.
2. Ew! There’s underwear in the hallway!
3. Teacher walks into the room, and Johnny is scratching his head. The rest of the class is watching him. She stops and looks at him. He says, “I have dirt in my head.”
4. Teacher: I need your attention.
   Student: Just teach the damn class.
   Teacher: Please step outside.
   Student: What? Damn’s not a bad word. Now, fuck, well, that’s a bad word.
5. Hey teacher! There’s poop sandwiches on the roof! (seriously, a student really said that.)
6. Student to teacher as she is passing out the final exams: Does this count as a grade?
7. Student poem: I am Evan.
   I am lazy.
   I am what I am. (There's a certain beauty to this simplicity)
8. Who threw that at me? This is NOT respectful!
9. Oh! I accidentally unbuttoned my pants!
10. (same period as #9—I have NO idea what was being referenced) Ew! It’s dripping!
11. Response to the journal entry “What have you learned this week?”: I’ve learned there are five season of MacGyver! Yay!
12. Student: Hey Teacher. What're your favorite movies?

Teacher: Oh, you probably haven’t heard of them. They’re mostly foreign.
Student to other student, whispering: Oh my god! Did she say porn?

Sigh

I just want to say--I really like my house. I mean, it's nothing special. It's small, it's far away from where I'd ideally like to live (okay, not really--I mean, it's still in Portland, it's just away from the neighborhood I would like to live, but I can't afford ANYTHING there, so this is the house and the neighborhood I can afford). But what I mean is, I like that it's nice. It's always clean, and the garden--oh! the garden! It's huge, and there a ton of plants, but what I like--what I really like, is that people come here. They like to come here. It's a nice house to have people over, and people come over a lot. It's just nice. Tonight, Melanie's work friends came over, and I was in the middle of painting the office, but they brought wonderful food and we had a cookout, and it's just nice. It's a good house.

Lotte's Sketchbook

I found this on my friend Betsy's blog. Now, I'm not ashamed to say I have awful taste, but I occasionally like things that others like or others like things I like, but whatever. I like this Lotte. (you have to click on the title--I just figured this out! Wow, when I look back at my first post, it's pretty amazing how much I've learned about this whole blog thing! I'm feeling just a teensy bit smart today).

Okay--Daisy, the cute cute dog, and I are off to the vet once again for more ($) tests. What is great is that she seems just fine. Wonderful, actually. She seems better than she has seemed in months. I'm sure it's the antibiotics, but she must not have been feeling well forever, because she is so much better than she was before she was sick, if that makes any sense at all. We're going to discuss last week's x-rays, and do another blood test and who knows what else. Oh, and I have to bring in a pee sample. Yep. The joys of dog ownership. I'll just let you use your imagination... Hopefully, the diet change will tell them something and help them narrow down which disease she has, if any. I'm hoping for none. I wonder if the odds of none are better than the odds of the world ending last Tuesday--I heard they were 1 in 100. So, if you bet on that and win, what do you get?

After the vet, I have these grand visions of a hike--it's a little chilly and possibly rainy and I'm sure much of Portland is at the wonderously hideous Rose Festival, so the hills might be somewhat deserted--my favorite time to hike--but also, I'd like to paint the office, and pull out part of the parking strip and plant anything but grass there, and weed the front beds, and space out the leeks and plant the broccoli. Oh yeah, and grade the term projects from my kids. That, and search google for the papers that they nicked off the web. Oh, I'm so pessimistic and bitter.

Everyone needs a motto

I have two:

If it's free, it's for me.

and

It's easier to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission.

Poetry not by me, and as nobody reads this, I assume it's okay to post with credit...

End of April
Phillis Levin

Under a cherry tree
I found a robin’s egg,
broken, but not shattered.

I had been thinking of you,
and was kneeling in the grass
among fallen blossoms

when I saw it: a blue scrap,
a delicate toy, as light
as confetti

It didn’t seem real,
but nature will do such things
from time to time.

I looked inside:
it was glistening, hollow,
a perfect shell

except for the missing crown,
which made it possible
to look inside.

What had been there
is gone now
and lives in my heart

where, periodically,
it opens up its wings,
tearing me apart.

Weird things about blogs

So, the weird thing is, once you tell everybody about your blog, you can no longer use it as a stream of consciousness on-line journal. For instance, I'm in the foulest mood a person could possibly be in--but because the people I'm pissed at most might just read this, well--now I have to be careful of what I say, mainly because I'm too hesitant to tell those I'm pissed at why I'm pissed at them. And, it's not like I--aw, hell, it's just complicated. And no, I'm not mad that one friend hooked up with another friend, (really, I'm not--as much as I think I should be, I'm just not) and I'm not really one to mince words about basic crap, but the thing is--relationships get goddamned complicated, and some people get really really defensive in just normal conversational crap, and it is HIGHLY likely that I'm just completely and utterly stressed out over Daisy's complicated illness (or illnesses as the vet is completely baffled over which ones she probably has) and the last eight days of school, but for pete's sake, how can one person be so full of bitterness and animosity that going to bed at 7-freakin'-30 seems like a good idea? What the hell is wrong with me?

Madeline, Black Lab Extraordinaire

Madeline, Black Lab Extraordinaire SO dang cute.

Seriously...

Look. She's cute. See? It's not TOO hard to understand why I'm so obsessed with her. Can you understand now?

Oh, and in other news: There isn't just ONE tomato. There's 3. Seriously. 3.

So--the cute cute dog got into the fridge two days ago. Yeah, she's smart like that, too. So, yeah. Fridge. She ate a whole bunch of mac-n-cheese, and some girl scout cookies, a loaf of bread, some flat bread and some corn tortillas (Um, yeah--we're OBVIOUSLY not on the Atkins diet!). Well, she's already been having some issues--and I've dropped over a grand at the vet to possibly identify some pancreatic problems. Possibly. So yesterday, I wake up, and the sweet, cute dog CAN'T move. She can't walk, she can't stand, she can't get off my freakin' bed. I completely panic. Cry, hyperventilate, pull my hair out, bang my head against the wall (okay, I'm exaggerating, but only a little). I call my wonderful VP, sobbing, and then the awesome woman a ride to work with as well, to tell them I'm taking Daisy in, and then cry some more. Turns out--after $300--they tell me she has gas. Well no shit. I knew that! Half my tears were because of her foul arse! Anyhoo--the vet also said she had some unresolved pancreatic issues and was suffering a pancreatitus (or something). Great. He wants me to come in today for more ($) tests. UGh. On the bright side--she's walking again--Yesterday, at 3:30, she stood up on her own, and walked outside. This morning, she tried to play with Ziggy.

Oh, and poor Ziggy! He just doesn't get it. He keeps TRYING to play with her, but she can't, and you can see he's confused. He's like: "What? She could do this yesterday! What's wrong with her? Is she broken? Let me try to attack her again--then maybe she'll play." Poor Zig. I think he needs a puppy.

MY GARDEN!

If you look very carefully you can see the tomato! Yes! An actual tomato is growing. Already! It's the size of a, well, of a cherry tomato! Whoot! It's actually amazing that things are growing in that dirt, when you consider all the glass, car parts, trash--oh yeah--even a toilet brush!--that was in that dirt. I think the people who lived there before just plain old burried their trash. And their cars. I mean, why waste time taking it to the dump, right?

Okay, you can't REALLY see the tomato, but it IS there! Really. I'll do a close up soon! Then you'll believe me!