Thursday, 05 November 2009

• Miscellaneous

  Update: I've been smoke-free since May 18th (or 5.5 months or 24 weeks or 171 days or 4104 hours or...). The patch provided some interesting dreams that, at first, served as a deterrent. Since I rarely remember dreaming, though, it became a new (and slightly twisted) form of entertainment: juicin' up and gettin' my sleep on. Remind me to tell y'all about some of those dreams someday.
  
  Update: Kid is still awesome. Dog is still awesome. These are poor examples of updates.
  
  Update: On August 3rd, we had poor Pukemeister euthanized. We spent $600 on tests to find out that he had cancer and there wasn't anything we could do about it... except spend thousands more on treatments that might prolong our 15 year old cat's life by months. Little guy was starving to death at the end. His body just couldn't digest the vast amounts of food he was consuming and he became more skeletal by the day. True to form, he went out like a lion, hissing and snarling at those he loved best... and everyone else within earshot. Rest in peace, Pukesy!
  
  Update: Dad left the hospital briefly and spent about three weeks in an acute care facility (which is code for "nursing home") before having another stroke and being sent back to the ICU. He is currently in the hospital, awaiting my mother's decision on whether to move him to hospice care or not.
  
  Update: Mom spent two glorious weeks in the mental health ward and has now been out for a week and a half. While on the inside, she learned to talk gangsta, protect her turf, and avoid the large bacon-stealing woman. Now that she's back on the outside, she's reverting to complete avoidance of any subject of substance and being completely naive about the reality the rest of us dwell in.
  
  Update: We've had three new additions to our household since my mother's unceremonious commitment: my younger brother and my parents' two, completely uncivilized, but still very cute five year dogs - a Westie and a Scottie. The Westie can't weigh more than 15 pounds, but she urinates like a garden hose... all over my kitchen floor... several times a day. We're working on this. All of us. Is it possible to ruin a dog entirely and render them untrainable? Ugh.
  
  Update: Despite all of the "typically masculine" tendencies I display as a tomboy, I learned that I do indeed scream like a girl. That's a story for another day. It involves mice - dozens of mice. (I just creeped myself out by thinking about it.)
  
  Update: AE is back. For the moment. The moment is all I have. This moment right here... right here... right here...
  
  More to come. I need the sanity that writing steals. Soon, you'll see.
  
  Xanga, I've missed you.
  
  Love,
  ~AE
  
  

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