OK, if any of you have ever seen my "random question" in my Blogger profile, you've noticed that I mentioned what my porn star name is.

Now I want you to tell me what YOUR porn star name is. Here's how to get it:

First Name = name of your first childhood pet
Last Name = name of the first street you lived on

My first pet was an orange tiger tabby named Whiskers, and I lived on Hampden Road in Upper Darby until I was 10. So voila! My porn star name is Whiskers Hampden.

Leave your porn star name in my Comments!

Labels: childhood, funny stuff, memories, pets

Since I was a little girl, I have had a keen interest in language. I began to teach myself how to read at about age 3. English was always my favorite subject, at least until I reached high school, at which point I began taking formal Spanish lessons. Accents particularly fascinate me. I often listen carefully to people and try to guess where they live, or at least where they were raised.

So it should come as no surprise that I absolutely ADORE hearing British people speak. I could listen for hours on end. Sadly, there is a dearth of Brits in my life, so when I come upon one I am especially delighted. One such person is our cats' veterinarian, Dr. Nicol. Every time I bring Bailey and Sebastian to the vet for their check-up, I make sure to request him. The Huz thinks I'm crazy.

Last week, I took the cats in for their rabies and distemper shots. As Dr. Nicol carefully inspected them and took their vitals, I stood across the exam table from him, completely entranced as he spoke, with a silly grin plastered across my face. He probably thinks I'm crazy, too.

Yesterday, I received a follow-up phone call from Dr. Nicol about the results of Bailey's blood test. I can't say that I remember much of the actual content of our discussion. I sat at my desk and murmured "mmm-hmm" and "okay" as he spoke. I must have looked like quite a sight, because after I hung up the phone, one of my coworkers asked me what was so funny. Apparently I was grinning like an idiot again.

Then The Huz called. When I mentioned that the vet had called about Bailey's blood test, he wanted to know the outcome.

"Uh...I think he said it was fine," I responded.

"What? You don't know what the results were?" The Huz demanded. "Why not?"

So naturally I had to break down and confess that I didn't remember a thing about our conversation. I just remembered how it sounded! Which, to my Anglophilic ears, was perfectly lovely.

PS - This love does not extend to Americans imitating a British accent, unless they are REALLY good at it. Example: Renee Zellweger in Bridget Jones' Diary was good. Outstanding, in fact. Madonna, not so much. And Joaquin, my darling, your accent in Gladiator was atrocious. Sorry, luv.

Labels: celebrities, childhood, memories, movies, pets, writing

Hilarious!

Labels: funny stuff, pets, technology

I have a dilemma on my hands, people. As some of you may remember, we moved into a new neighborhood in August 2005. Since then, we've met most of our neighbors and they're very nice people.

BUT. (You knew there was a "but" coming, right?)

There is this family who lives two houses down and across the street from us. A husband, wife and at least two little kids. Maybe more. They also have a beagle.

My problem is the way this man treats the beagle. I have witnessed the guy screaming at the top of his lungs at this poor little dog. For the record, I have never seen any of the family members actually take the dog for a walk. Instead, they tether the dog to a stake in the front lawn and leave it out there for hours. It howls and whimpers, and occasionally the man sticks his head out the front door and yells at it to shut up. Why do people like this even own a dog?

Somehow, I've managed to look the other way about this since we moved in, but something happened yesterday afternoon that made my blood absolutely boil.

We had invited my parents and grandmother over for brunch to celebrate Mother's Day. They left around 2 p.m., and Brian and I stood on our front porch to wave goodbye as my mom's car began slowly driving down the street. As she passed that family's house, the beagle somehow got loose and darted in front of my mom's car in the street. My mother slammed on her brakes and thankfully, the dog ran back up on the lawn, unharmed.

The "man" of the house (I use that term with reservations) was doing some kind of garden work at the time and saw everything that happened. He hollered an apology at my mother, who I am sure was quite shaken by the close call. Then, as soon as the beagle returned to him on the lawn, he scooped it up in his arms and started beating it and screaming at it.

I watched this from our front step and Brian had to physically restrain me from marching across the street and giving this asshole a piece of my mind. How a grown man can beat a 25-lb dog is completely beyond me. Worse, what exactly are his young children learning from this? More than once I have seen the guy scream at and smack the dog right in front of his kids. It makes me sick and I feel like I should take action.

So the question is, what do I do? Do I ring his bell and try to speak to him about it myself? Do I call the Humane Society and let them deal with it? Do I send an anonymous letter? I don't even know their names, but I could find that out easily enough.

I am not a violent person, but when I see animals or children being mistreated, it just about puts me over the edge.

Labels: decisions, family, holidays, neighborhood stuff, pets

I am a generally happy person. Don't get me wrong -- I've had spells of depression, and there have certainly been times when I didn't think anything was going right in my life. But for the most part, especially in the past year or so, I've been pretty content. I believe that most of my happiness depends on me. I don't look to other people or things to make me happy.

I remind myself often of all the things for which I am grateful. I do this almost daily, not just when I'm feeling down. It keeps things in perspective for me and helps me keep a good attitude about life.

Briefly, and in random order, I'm grateful for:

A job that I truly enjoy and look forward to going to almost every day (for the first time in my adult life!).
My wonderful, supportive husband who really loves me and who makes me laugh every day.
My parents, who think I am wonderful and who would do anything for me. It's great to be at an age where we have a true friendship.
Good health. This makes me feel immeasurably fortunate, because I know and have heard about so many people who suffer with various physical problems.
A few close friends who love me, whom I trust, and with whom I am completely comfortable being myself.
My two kitties, Bailey and Sebastian, who wake me up every morning by licking my face, and greet me every evening after work by rolling around on the floor and purring. They make me so happy!
A beautiful home where I feel safe and secure.
Two functioning vehicles -- especially my Highlander, which I plan to drive until it completely dies on me.
Enough money to live comfortably.
Music. I just couldn't imagine living without it.

Everything else is gravy, as far as I'm concerned.

Have a happy weekend!

Labels: deep thoughts, family, friends, marriage, money, music, pets, weekends, work

I am so thrilled, overjoyed, relieved, elated...I took the ASPPA DC-1 exam yesterday and passed! I have been studying and stressing about this test for months. I am so glad it is over and I passed on my first try. I'm also going to get a bonus for passing, so that makes it even sweeter! Now I can prepare for the holidays without all this stress hanging over my head. Whew!

I took Bailey to the vet again on Friday night for an x-ray. It took almost an hour, but the vet finally called me back to an exam room and told me that everything looked fine. His thyroid test also came back normal.

The vet recommended that Bailey get more subcutaneous fluids for at least the next week, but I said, "Look, this is going to get expensive if I have to bring him here every other day for a week to do this. Can you teach me how to give it to him so I can do it at home?"

Five minutes later, I was sticking a needle into the scruff of his neck, and he was NOT happy about it. But it went OK. So I went home with a bag of IV fluid and four needles. Brian and I worked together on Sunday evening and gave him another round of fluids, and since then, Bailey has seemed to perk up a bit.

I was talking to my mom about it (she's a nurse) and she thinks that maybe he was just dehydrated for no apparent reason, and that's why his kidney values were elevated. He's doing much better now, thankfully. This morning, we played with one of the cats' many toy mice, and he was chasing it and batting it around like the old times.

Life is back to normal again. This week I'm returning to the gym--I'd been on a rather extended hiatus, unfortunately, while studying for this exam. No more excuses!

Labels: accomplishments, health, pets, stress

Sorry I haven’t been around lately. It’s been a difficult week.

First of all, this coming Monday, I am taking a very difficult exam in order to get credentials for my job. I have been studying for this exam for months, and though I know deep down that I’m pretty well-prepared, I am still a nervous wreck. I hate tests.

Then, last night I took my older cat, Bailey, to the vet. He’s been acting weirdly for the past several months, and I figured he should be checked out. He’s lost weight, seems listless, and no longer plays with his brother (our other cat Sebastian) anymore. He just kind of mopes around and has no energy.

Trying to get this cat into his carrier to go anywhere is an ordeal. It took Brian and I about ten minutes, working together, to secure Bailey in his little crate. Bailey doesn’t like car rides, nor does he like the vet (does any cat?), so the fur was definitely flying…his little legs kept splaying all over the place as we tried to stuff him in his cage. At one point, I just started laughing hysterically, much to Brian’s annoyance. It was a pretty funny sight!

We finally got Bailey settled into his cage, and although he was yowling very loudly, we got to the vet’s office without further incident. I put Bailey on the scale, and learned that he’s lost more weight than I’d thought: in April 2003, he was 11.7 pounds, and last night he weighed only 7.4 pounds. Which means he’s lost around 60% of his total body weight. Not good.

The vet examined him as I described his symptoms. She immediately thought it might be diabetes, because I’d noticed he was drinking slightly more water than normal. So she took a glucose sample, and it came back normal, which was a relief. His temperature was normal, his heart rate was a little elevated, but probably due to his vet anxiety, but she commented that his fur seemed dull and a little flaky. She also remarked that he was moderately dehydrated, so she gave him some IV fluids. She took some more blood and a urine sample (and I have no idea how she did that) and sent us home.

This morning, she called and said that everything looked normal from the blood test, except his kidney function was elevated. She was still waiting on the results for the thyroid panel, though, and thought that it could be hyperthyroidism. We won’t know that until later. Then she recommended that we leave him there at the vet’s office for the entire weekend for IV fluid therapy, which costs $400. At which point I nearly fainted.

I said, “Well, after that, then what?”

She said that they’d do an x-ray to rule out any obstructions or other problems. She seemed to think that the kidney issue was indicative of some other problem, and not necessarily a kidney problem itself, because she mentioned that his urine was still very concentrated (whatever that means) and that it was a good thing.

So instead, I told her we’d bring him in again tonight for the x-rays, to look for the problem right away. As much as I love this cat, I just can’t see blowing $400 on IV therapy for the weekend and then spending $150 for the x-rays on top of it. Why not just get the x-rays out of the way first?

I have no idea what to think now. I’ve been doing research all day here, trying to figure out the problem. Unfortunately, many health problems share the same symptoms: lethargy, increased thirst, moodiness, vomiting (which he’s been doing intermittently for months), depression.

The two issues that keep coming up in my research are chronic renal failure and hyperthyroidism. However, the chronic renal failure stuff indicates that most cats lose their appetite…which is not the case with Bailey! He has remained interested in food, and especially his treats, so no problems there.

Now I am completely stressed. I thought that I’d be spending this weekend doing some final preparation for the DC-1 exam, and maybe some Christmas decorating, but it seems that I now have other obligations.

Bailey is our first cat. We adopted him from a rescue just a few months after we got married. He is really the best cat I’ve ever had, and I’ve had many in my life. He’s a real lap cat who loves all and any kinds of human interaction. In fact, many times it’s almost as if he WERE human. He sits on the empty chair next to us at dinner every night—not begging for food, just to keep us company. He sits on the bathroom vanity every morning while I shower and get ready for work. He sleeps with us every night. He lays on my lap as I work on the computer at home. Sometimes, if he’s feeling really affectionate, he grooms me…he licks my hair and nits it with his teeth. He just wants to be around us all the time. If something is seriously wrong with him, we’re going to have to make some hard decisions, and I just don’t even want to think about it right now.

Thanksgiving was good, by the way. The food turned out fine and everyone enjoyed themselves.

Labels: family, holidays, money, pets, scary, stress, work

I am pleased to report that Donnie was a VERY goooood boy this weekend! Although he is a rather exuberant 14-month old Chessie (who weighs about 90 lbs), he didn't have any accidents in the house, only chewed on his own designated toys, and stayed off the furniture. He was pretty quiet, too, and only whimpered a little bit when we crated him at bedtime.

The weather here was gorgeous and uncharacteristically warm over the weekend, so we took Donnie for a nice long hike at Valley Forge National Park. As we were walking, Brian commented, "You know, this is kind of fun..."

Also, when Donnie's owner came on Sunday afternoon to take him home, Brian told him, "If you ever need anyone to dogsit again, we'll be happy to do it. He was a good boy!"

This bodes very well for my chances of convincing Brian to get a dog in the spring. Yippee!

Anyway, this is PMS Week, which means that I've pretty much strapped on the feed bag. Have you ever had ice cream from Coldstone Creamery? WOW. It is so rich and delicious that it takes me at least two days to eat even the smallest size serving. My favorite flavor is Cake Batter with cookie dough mixed in, though I sampled Carrot Cake yesterday and was impressed.

This coming weekend, Brian is flying to Pittsburgh to meet up with his buddies and go to the Steelers game on Sunday. I am kind of looking forward to having the house all to myself. That means that I can watch the Food Network and HGTV exclusively without hearing any grumbling! The World Series of Poker will not even have one minute's airtime in the house for three whole days! And no sticky fingerprints all over the kitchen counters and refrigerator door! I swear, the man is 33 years old but sometimes I feel like he's my kid. I'm constantly cleaning up after him. Gah.

Hope everyone had as nice and fun a weekend as I! Tell me what you did...

Labels: friends, pets, weekends

Well, tomorrow is the big day. We're dog-sitting Brian's friend's Chesapeake Bay retriever this weekend. After work tomorrow, I'm going to pick him up and bring him back to our house.

It was my extremely fervent hope that Donnie (the dog--named after Don Mattingly, the former New York Yankees team captain) behaves himself. If he is an exemplary dog this weekend, it can only increase my chances of convincing Brian that we, too, need a dog.

Isn't it unusual that the wife (me) has to convince the husband (him) to get a dog? I thought it was normally the other way around. But no. Brian's never had a dog in his life. None of his family has ever owned dogs, or been owned by dogs, as the case usually is. This kind of blows my mind. They are cat people. They think that dogs are wild, smell bad, and make a mess of the house. Which may be somewhat true, but to me the cost/benefit analysis is clearly in favor of canine companionship.

Don't get me wrong; I love cats, too. In general, I am a total animal person. I'd have birds, rats, and a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig if I were allowed to. And we have two fabulous male kitties whom I just adore...but even they don't fulfill my need for a more intense human/animal bond.

A dog would make me ever so happy. I'd even do all the work involved in taking care of it without complaint. It would be MY dog.

We've been married just over three years, and for 2.9 of those years, I've been subtly, and sometimes not-so-subtly, trying to get my way in this matter. I don’t ask for much. I’m not a nag. Brian plays golf, softball, poker and bowls in a weekly league, all without complaint from me. As a wife, I think I’m pretty darn cool. But I’m alone a lot, because of his extracurriculars. So why can’t I get a dog to keep me company? Sigh…

I witnessed something about a month ago that just broke my heart. On a sunny Saturday afternoon, my mother and I were driving to Target to do some shopping. We were in my car, and I was taking a shortcut through a residential neighborhood. A very wealthy neighborhood, in fact. We were chatting and laughing, and suddenly I noticed something on the side of the road, up ahead in the distance. I shushed my mom and slowed down, and what I saw next nearly made me burst into tears.

There on the side of this road, next to what I would have to imagine was a $500,000 home, stood an adult Siberian husky. It had a thick rope tied around its neck, and on the other end of the rope was an empty plastic water jug. Also attached to the rope was a sign that read "Take Me." The dog stood there, in the gutter, looking lost and confused and sad. I don’t know if the owner of the $500,00 house had put the dog out there, or if someone who had driven by just pushed it out of their car.

I stopped the car and pulled over to the opposite side of the road. My mother said, “You’re not going to get out of the car, are you? You don’t know if that dog is vicious!” The only reason I did not get out of the car and go to the dog was because she was with me. Had I been alone, I would’ve tried to get the dog into my car and taken it home with me. Instead, I called 911 – okay, I’ll admit it was probably overkill, but I was absolutely distraught and couldn’t think of anything else to do. I certainly wasn’t going to leave this animal on the side of the road to be hit by a car.

After I informed the 911 dispatcher of the situation (who thought I was a wee bit crazy, no doubt), I pulled away and continued to Target, at my mother’s insistence. I’m pretty disappointed in myself for doing that. I should have at least stayed in my car where I was, just to keep an eye on that dog until the cops or the Humane Society came to take it to safety. But my mother, who does not share the level of passion I have for animals, was becoming impatient, so I felt it was best for me to go.

We ran our errands and as I headed for hom, I turned up the street where the dog had been. My mother said, “I knew you’d go back to check on that dog.” We passed the spot where it had stood, and it was gone. I’ll never know if it wandered off on its own, or if the police truly cared enough to come and get it.

The whole point of my story is this: why is it that some people who couldn’t care less about dogs and treat them as a disposable entity are ALLOWED to have them…and I want one so very badly and would love it to pieces, but am not “allowed” to have it? It makes me so angry. Grrr. Oh, I suppose I could just stop at the shelter one day and bring one home, but that would really upset Brian, and I don’t think it would be worth the ensuing arguments.

So instead, I’m slowly chinking away at his willpower. Because I cannot see living the rest of my life dog-free. Any ideas?

Labels: bitching, friends, marriage, pets, weekends