Holy Crap!

From the AP:

WASHINGTON - Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld, a key target of Iraq war critics, is stepping down, Republican officials said on Wednesday.

Does this mean Bush will try to pull a Democrat from the Senate to be the new Defense Secretary? Mysterious forces at work...

Posted by: Ensie at 09:55 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Found at so anyway... with a mile long snopes.com story to back it up, but it's still great either way.

In light of your failure to elect a competent
President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we
hereby give notice of the revocation of your
independence, effective immediately. Her Sovereign
Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical
duties over all states, commonwealths and territories
(excepting Kansas, which she does not fancy).

Your new prime minister, Tony Blair, will appoint a
governor for America without the need for further
elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded.

A questionnaire may be circulated next year to
determine whether any of you noticed.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown
Dependency, the following rules are introduced with
immediate effect:

You should look up “revocation” in the Oxford English
Dictionary. Then lookup aluminium, and check the
pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how
wrongly you have been pronouncing it. The letter ‘U’
will be reinstated in words such as ‘favour’ and
“neighbour.’

Likewise, you will learn to spell ‘doughnut’ without
skipping half the letters, and the suffix -ize will be
replaced by the suffix -ise. Generally, you will be
expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels
– (look up vocabulary).

Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with
filler noises such as “like” and “you know” is an
unacceptable and inefficient form of communication.

There is no such thing as US English. We will let
Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft
spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the
reinstated letter ‘u’ and the elimination of -ize.

You will relearn your original national anthem, “God
Save The Queen”. July 4th will no longer be
celebrated as a holiday.

You will learn to resolve personal issues without
using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you
need so many lawyers and therapists shows that youÂ’re
not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only
be handled by adults. If youÂ’re
not adult enough to sort things out without suing
someone or speaking to a therapist then youÂ’re not
grown up enough to handle a gun; Therefore, you will
no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more
dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be
required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in
public.

All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and
this is for your own good. When we show you German
cars, you will understand what we mean.

All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts,
and you will start driving on the left with immediate
effect. At the same time, you will go metric with
immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion
tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you
understand the British sense of humour.

The former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which
you have been calling gasoline) — roughly $6/US
gallon. Get used to it.

You will learn to make real chips. Those things you
call French fries are not real chips, and those things
you insist on calling potato chips are properly called
crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat,
and dressed not with catsup but with vinegar.

The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is
not actually beer at all; Henceforth, only proper
British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and
European brews of known and accepted provenance will
be referred to as Lager. American brands will be
referred to as Near-Frozen GnatÂ’s Urine, so that all
can be sold without risk of further confusion.

Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast
English actors as good guys; Hollywood will also be
required to cast English actors to play English
characters. Watching Audie MacDowell attempt English
dialogue in /Four Weddings and a Funeral/ was an
experience akin to having oneÂ’s ears removed with a
cheese grater.

You will cease playing American football. There is
only one kind of proper football; you call it soccer.
Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to
play rugby (which has some similarities to American
football, but does not involve stopping for a rest
every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body
armour like a bunch of nancies).

Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not
reasonable to host an event called the World Series
for a game which is not played outside of America.
Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world
beyond your borders, your error is understandable.

You must tell us who killed JFK. ItÂ’s been driving us
mad.

An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from
Her MajestyÂ’s Government will be with you shortly to
ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to
1776).

Thank you for your co-operation

Posted by: Ensie at 09:32 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Today all the rain that we didn't have during the last six months fell in the Puget Sound area within a three-hour period. Coincidentally, this was the same three hours that I was running errands with Frinklin and two dogs today. I'm like a homing beacon for shitty weather.

After visiting Comic Book Ink, Target, and Mud Bay, I drove carefully back through the rain to the monsoon in our neighborhood where we parked and sat waiting for the pounding rain to stop. Minutes passed as we continued to sit, waiting for a moment of even slightly lessened downpour so that we could pop the back door, drag the dogs out, and leap up the stairs to the safety of the house.

After ten minutes with no change we opted to take our chances, leaving the purchases to fend for themselves--no way was I standing outside a minute more than necessary. The dogs were drenched and our house has a fabulous eau d'wet dog smell that has permeated everything. My jeans spent 20 seconds outside and were soaked up to the knees.

The rain stopped about five minutes later and its sprinkled off and on the rest of the afternoon into the evening. We're leaving to see "Borat" in an hour. I won't need a clock to tell me when it's time to go, I'll know from the hurricane conditions outside.

Posted by: Ensie at 07:44 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Because nothing brings you back like catblogging!

I bring you, Barney Toes:

Does it shock anyone that we got a new cat whilst I've been gone? Because we did. And a new dog, Pharaoh:

I've always wanted a Great Dane, and now I've got one, sort of. No one would adopt him at the Humane Society, and now everyone wants to know where we found him.

I've missed blogging. I have a few good stories to tell. Just to remind myself to post them--fried cat, burgled, best car-accident story EVER, mutant, roast chicken, holey dog, I like football?, and...I think that's it for now.

Now I just have to actually follow-through! Work has been steady instead of crushing, and I have a few days of vacation coming up. Timed perfectly, as a monster storm system has overtaken the Pacific Northwest. I'll be in sunny San Diego in a week.

See you tomorrow!

Posted by: Ensie at 05:29 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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1 Aw, cute animals. Welcome back

Posted by: Jennifer at November 04, 2006 09:41 AM (8oQfj)

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It's fairly obvious that I just don't have the ability or time to keep the blog going right now. I wish I did. But I don't. There's the new dog. Which is not the dog in the previous entry, but Pharaoh, which you can read Frinklin's blog to find out about. And the new, new kitten, Barney, who is orange therefore, crazy (and currently jumping up and down on the keyboard).

And the expanding job. And the potential future small actual people that may be running around our house before too much longer. I was finally able to set an appointment at the UW Genetic Counseling Office for December, so I'll know more about my chances of being able to actually have a baby at that time. Please say a prayer for us in the meantime.

I'll try to update at least once or twice a month, which is what I've been managing until now, but I'm done with the daily or even weekly entries. I really have tried, but life has taken over writing about life.

Site will stay up. Updates will occasionally happen. I'll be reading and commenting. Please stay in touch!

Posted by: Ensie at 09:01 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 See ya later, to-mater

Posted by: Eden at August 18, 2006 04:24 AM (sg4cz)

2 Aw, I'll miss the blog! Just email me daily, k? : ) Really, whenever you have downtime, I'd love to hear from you! Love you!

Posted by: Violet at August 21, 2006 08:30 AM (sVYSE)

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Over the week of the Fourth of July Frinklin and I took a week off work and invited my family up from San Diego. We had beautiful weather in the mid 70s, sun shining, few clouds, and no rain. They spent most of the week shivering and complaining that they had not brung enough heavy jackets. Wimps.

On the fifth, my fourteen-year-old sister, Nikki, managed to grab a stray dog that was wandering through our front yard and informed me that we would be placing him in my backyard. I was given no choice in the matter. I avoided all contact with the dog and left a message with Animal Control asking that they pick up the stray as soon as possible. The dog was provided water and a blanket to lie upon. No petting. No naming.

Forty-eight hours, five bowl of dog food, and two additional calls to Animal Control later, we were forced to spend some panicked time with the stray. We had returned home from a day-long hike in the Olympic National Forest (at Lake Quinault) with The Jeffrey and Matchbox. They were quite exhausted and colapsed upon entering the house. I peeked out the window into the backyard to check on the dog. He appeared under the window, peering up at me, tail wagging. As I turned away I immediately heard loud, noises coming from what sounded like under the house. Thinking he was digging under the fence I ran outside.

Glancing around I found...nothing. The stray was gone. I opened the gate and saw no sign of the giant, 80 pound, hairy beast that had been happily living in our backyard for several days. As I turned to enter the house and tell Frinklin that we were now down one extra canine, I heard a loud whine from ground level. Looking down, I noticed a nose poking out from the ventilation area that leads to the crawl space UNDER THE HOUSE. Let me repeat that. UNDER THE HOUSE. This ventilation hole is only about 12"X18". Eighty pounds of dog. UNDER THE HOUSE. Much yelling for Frinklin started immediately.

Observe:

Please note that what you are seeing is just his head sticking out. His body is far larger. Reason states that if he made it into the hole, he can get out again, right?

At one time, chicken wire had covered this hole, but no longer. As we attempted to coax the stray out, old pieces of wire dug into his legs and chest. Frinklin managed to rip out most of the sharp edges and we began to pull, which didn't work. After ten minutes or so, questions such as "Who does one call to remove an 80 pound dog from your 110 year-old home's 12 inch crawl space?" began to be asked. The fire department? Those wild animal removal specialists that work with alligators and skunks?

It finally dawned on me that the reason he had shoved himself under the house is that he was trying to enter the house to be with us. He saw me through the window and wanted to come in. This provided leverage, finally. I started encouraging with all my might. Calling him every sweet doggie name there is. Petting him and sweet-talking, praising and cooing. Slowly one leg...then...the other...Frinklin had them both...the front end is out...now the middle...and...free!

We were immediately covered by a giant, harry mass of very excited dog. Any thought of sending him off with Animal Control was banished. Spending 45 minutes rescuing a dog from your crawl space is a bonding experience for all parties involved. He was ours, and we were his. We christened him Herky and vowed to keep our families in the dark for a few more days until we could confirm that The Jeffrey would accept the new recruit.

More tomorrow...

Posted by: Ensie at 08:28 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Have you ever had a moment when you begin talking about something which leads to something else, only to become another topic, finally dissolving into some underlying issue you didn't know you were so distraught about in the first place?

With the back problems, scoliosis weirdness, carpal tunnel (going to the orthopedic surgeon in a week!), I've been cracking jokes about turning thirty regularly. It's irritating to feel like I'm already breaking down before I've even left my twenties. I don't feel especially traumatized about moving into another decade of existence, but it is definitely a milestone and for a lot of people, apparently me as well, it means you are supposed to be a little more grown up. No more bank of Dad. Taking responsibility for the choices I have made, and hopefully knowing a little bit more about myself than I did ten years ago. I don't think those are huge goals, but they are my goals at the precipice of thirty.

I do have a general angst about growing older and a fear of death. I blame my parents and their early insistence that when I accepted Jesus into my heart at five years old that I would never face the fires of hell as a Christian. Then when I came out as a lesbian at 19 suddenly I stood on shaky ground and the Lake of Fire opened before me once again. But I digress...

One of the things I did expect to do before I turned thirty was have at least one child. I was my parent's first child, born when my mother was 29, which always sounded so old to have a first kid. It hasn't been until the last few years that I really felt capable of even potentially being a parent. I know you rarely ever feel 100% ready, but I definitely knew I wasn't ready at 22 years of age, partying into the wee hours, getting 15 minutes of sleep, and pretending not to nap at my desk the entire next day. Kids would have put a crimp in that lifestyle.

Somewhere along the line I switched my thinking. Instead of a party of 60, lets invite over six people. Instead of a keg, lets have wine. I'll skip the pot and coke lines, we'll just sit and chat, thanks. While this may sound a whole lot boring, it increased my daylight productivity considerably and allowed me to have actual conversations and relationships not based on questions such as, "Where's the bathroom at?!?" screamed over bad dance-techno.

So flash forward to me, sitting in the therapist's office on Wednesday morning, in tears discussing my lost relatives who will never see my unborn children as well as the living relatives who are simply dying for Frinklin and I to have kids but are nearly biting their tongues off in an effort to stay quiet. The therapist's response is this:

Therapist: "So, it sounds like you do want kids then? And Frinklin wants kids?"

Me: "God, yes. We thought we would have them already."

Therapist: "Then have them!"

Me: "But...work...and...um...what would I do...uh..."

Therapist: "Look, people have kids all the time. You just have them. No one is ever really ready for them. Stuff works out. You own a house. You are relatively financially secure. If you have to work, you have to work. If you don't, you don't. If your relatives can help, they will. You have a good job. You work part time at home. You work for a progressive company. Frinklin will eventually be working at home. Your Father-In-Law works at home. Your parents are looking at moving up here. You'll figure it out! Go have some kids!"

Me: "Um, OK."

----------

If only it were that simple.

Once upon a time my Mom informed me that I had a weird genetic disorder when I was born and that I may need to look into it before having kids. Over the years I've mentioned the name of this disorder to most of my doctors, all of which have shrugged and said, "Never heard of it, but you seem healthy. I wouldn't worry about it." Apparently that's the wrong answer.

After researching Incontinentia Pigmenti (IP) on the web for a couple of hours last night, it seems that I could have serious problems with a pregnancy. IP is a very rare genetic disorder (in fact, it's part of the National Organization for Rare Disorders). The reason none of my doctors have heard of it is because most of them will never see it in their lifetime. When I was born I visited doctor after doctor just so that they could see what IP looked like, because they would likely never see it again (but just in case).

IP affects the X chromosome of a developing fetus and males are miscarried 100% of the time. I have a 50% chance of having a normal child, boy or girl, and a 50% chance of having an IP child, boy or girl. If it is a girl, she may be relatively normal, like me, with almost no permanent side effects. Or, she could have a myriad of nightmarish problems that encompasses pretty much every birth defect imaginable. Either way, the first year or two of life involves a series of plague-like rashes of boils, blisters, warts, and pustules. Pretty. I'll be finding out the details baby's first plague on the phone with my Mom this weekend while completing a questionnaire about myself for the Incontinentia Pigmenti International Foundation.

So now there may be rounds of genetic counseling and testing. Fortunately the testing itself is free, and for your convenience, there are three labs available in the world that will test for the NEMO (IP) gene. One in Texas. One in England. And one in Italy. Weirdly enough, there is a genetic specialist that sits on the IP International Foundation Advisory Board located in Ann Arbor, MI, where I will be in just over a week. I don't know if I should call or not.

Updates on this fun topic as time goes on. I'm sure this is fascinating reading for everyone not effected by a completely rare genetic disorder. In a conversation with my sister, Katie, this afternoon she made me laugh, I know exactly how you feel. Everyone wants to give money to breast cancer and muscular dystrophy, and whatnot. No one wants to give money to those of us with epilepsy. It's like, hello?! Here I am, down on the floor waving and shaking�
.

Posted by: Ensie at 08:31 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 How did your mother know you had it? Was she in the same situation you're facing (that you were in the 50%?)? I would definitely make that call. That's fate whispering in your ear

Posted by: eden at July 22, 2006 06:44 AM (sg4cz)

2 Just stumbled on your blog and love the tag line at the top. It was cracking me up.

Posted by: Shawn at July 25, 2006 04:07 PM (1nHnP)

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I'm sure Ms. M@ry K@y would boot my ass right on out of the Pink Mafia for saying such things, but a girl has got to make a living.

When I turned 13, my Mom set up an appointment with her M@ry K@y "Lady" (known as "Independent Consultants" now) to have a facial and learn how to take care of my skin. A couple friends came over. My Mom bought some stuff for me. It was sort-of fun. Mostly I just remember that all the M@ry K@y stuff looked old fashioned and boring, and that I could care less about it. The products molded in the back of my vanity while I used flashy advertized items like Oxy10 and Noxema which sort-of worked.

Flash forward sixteen years later and I am in Tacoma and know nobody outside of family. A woman younger than myself offers to give me a M@ry K@y facial and I accept, figuring it can't hurt and I might get a chance to chat face-to-face with someone outside of my husband or in-laws. Lets call her Carrie.

Carrie turns out to be great. She is funny and interesting. She doesn't know hardly anyone in Washington either. She only moved here a year ago with her military husband, and she is pregnant with their second child. She loves dogs and isn't even put off by The Jeffrey. All around high scores.

The weirdest part of the visit? I LOVE the M@ry K@y stuff! Who knew?!

M@ry K@y must have done something right in the last several years, or my skin has actually started aging and needs some love. I bought everything. Cleanser, moisturizer, microdermabrasion kit, satin hands, satin lips, miracle day, and miracle night solution. And I got free (well, free-ish) gifts to go with all my stuff. I had no idea I was such a product whore.

After my spending binge, Carrie and I continued to talk on the phone and e-mail and I discovered that she had been working toward earning her M@ry K@y car. Not a pink Caddy, but something she could really use. In order to do so, she needed to recruit a few more M@ry K@y Commandos to the front lines as well as sell, sell, sell. I referred folks where I could and on the last possible day, finally gave up, closed my eyes, and signed.

I am a M@ry K@y Independent Consultant, Dammit!

Since signing up, I've developed a family heavy customer base of three people. The best part by FAR has been the motivational sales meeting I was invited to. Description to come. Sadly, no pictures were taken. I'll try to sneak some in at a future event. It was far, far worse than you can imagine. I wish I had been watching with a few good friends behind a one way mirror. There was singing, and dancing. Poetry was read. Plastic flowers were handed out. Tears were shed. This discription can't really do it justice.

The real question is, can I survive the humiliation of wearing a skirt, pumps and pantyhose (actual required dress code) and the embarrasment of whispering, "I sell M@ry K@y" to random women, all for a few extra bucks in my pocket from time to time? Since I really do love the product, I feel like I should put the maximum emphasis on that and forget the rest.

So, anyway, if you want some Mary Kay, let me know via email at ensie1@gmail.com. I'll hook you up with a great discount. I ship anywhere in the US.

No lie, the stuff rocks. Pink crazies or no.

Posted by: Ensie at 07:20 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I am so sexy right now. Wearing a velcro band around your pelvis as tight as possible is super-hot.

I started physical therapy today with an "alternative back care" office. My Pysical Therapist works primarily on realignment of the sacroiliac joint, which joins your pelvis to the base of your spine. He operates on the assumption that most back pain is due to this joint being "dislocated" or misaligned. All I know is that I can move better today than I have in several months.

I do get to wear the sacroiliac joint belt, which is exactly what it sound like; a belt that holds the joint(s) in place once they are aligned. Twenty-four/seven baby. All the time. I signed off on all sorts of proprietary information clauses, so I don't want to get into too much detail. But if you have any lower back pain, read this.

Interestingly enough, this whole thing goes full circle back to my appointments over a year ago with Dr. Chiropractor. He diagnosed me with a rotated right hip which shortened my right leg slightly. Apparently, the lift in my shoe isn't doing shit, and all this time I really needed someone to realign my sacroiliac joint to actually FIX the problem. Because it's gone on for, oh, almost thirty years, it's started to cause some pain that needs real attention.

I have two more appointments this week and will apparently be learning how to "self correct" myself. Currently that entails being far too aware of my body and adjusting the band, stretching to check the alignment of my joint, and squeezing a cherry ball between my knees. I'm crossing my fingers for results by next week as my family (minus sister Katie, bummer) will be on a week-long whirlwind trip to the Pacific Northwest.

Posted by: Ensie at 05:48 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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How Percy spent the day:

What you can't see is the giant box fan in the window set on high.

Posted by: Ensie at 04:32 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Dear Asshole,

Was it really necessary to egg my brand new car last night to celebrate your graduation or some other anticlimactic event? I haven't even made a payment on it yet. I've never owned a brand new car before. Finding several eggs glued to the side this morning...lets just say you're lucky I don't know who you are. Even better, I had two appointments that kept me from getting the nasty mess removed until this afternoon. As the weather is warming up, the eggs had solidified and bonded to the paint by the time I got to the carwash.

Ah, the carwash. I don't know where there is a hand wash in Tacoma, so I had to take it the Pink Elephant. My brand new car got to travel through the car washing tunnel. If you've ever had a new car, which I doubt, you'll know that the car wash tunnel scratches the hell out of the clear coat finish on a new car. In addition to the big scratches where the eggs met car, the finish is now marred. You may not be able to see it, but I can. Oh--and the guy who dried off the car? He used a RAZOR to pick the stuck-on eggshells off, resulting in some great gouges in the paint. So, again, thanks for that!

You are a total asshole and I hope that bad car karma follows you the rest of your days. May everything you own be a lemon and should you ever have a brand new car, I hope some dickwad eggs the hell out of it.

Fuck you,

Ensie

Posted by: Ensie at 07:46 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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We had a bit of a gnome problem in our neighborhood until we got Gnome-Be-Gone! Now we simply watch as those annoying little freaks are carted away, never to be seen again.

Available at BKB & Company in downtown Tacoma (or any number of places online).

Posted by: Ensie at 07:19 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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After taking those two weeks off from life (yeah, right!) I'm back again.

I swear I meant to post, I just, um...well...(mumbled excuse, mumbled excuse). The truth is, it's really taken a back seat to life. But I do have a fun story for everyone about my banking adventures this past weekend.

I've mentioned before that Frinklin's parents have been extremely generous in fulfilling his late grandmother's wishes regarding her will. This Friday we received the inheritance checks and deposited one check immediately via ATM, fully aware that the bank would likely place a hold on the funds for several days. That's how banks work--they choose not to take advantage of the instant withdrawl check technology that is out there to make sure your funds are available to YOU. Oh no, the bank takes the money, hold it for a few days to collect any available interest, then forwards it onto you when they are ready. Just because it's your money doesn't mean you should have instant access to it, OK? Let's not get crazy.

Lets jump ahead to the next day, Saturday. I head off to the bank with Frinklin to deposit the second check of $5,000. Because we want the funds available sooner and want $800 in cash for shopping that day we go into the bank, something I haven't done in years. Initially, all systems appear go, when suddenly the teller calls over a manager to view the transaction. The manager fiddles with the computer for a good 5 minutes before turning to me and stating that the bank cannot make the funds available today and I cannot receive any portion of the check as cash. When I ask why, I am told that my account shows that there is "significant risk" to the bank as they are unable to verify funds.

I tried very hard to remain calm. Really, I did. Upon hearing their lame-ass excuse, I request that they call Washington Mutual to verify funds. I work in retail. We do this pretty regularly. It's not difficult. It is dawn ing on me that my bank could give a rat's ass what type of service I receive. A call is placed and ten minutes later I am informed that they cannot verify the funds via phone as WaMu requires that the check writer be contacted by phone to OK the fund verification. What? I'm not asking for an account balance--just verifying that the check is good.

A little further background the history between my bank, Wells Fargo, and I. I've had my checking account since 1994--that's 12 years. I've had my share of overdrawn issues and a couple bounced checks in my late teens and early twenties, but have direct deposited several thousand dollars into that account each month for years. Over twelve years we're talking a lot of money. I haven't bounced a check in over 8 years. I haven't had a late payment on my credit card ever. They just issued me a significant chunk of credit larger than the $800 I wanted in cash. And they're telling me that I am a "significant risk?" Bullshit. And I told them that. In fact, yelled it as I stormed out.

One trip to Washington Mutual to receive a cashier's check in the exact same dollar amount as the original check, and we are back at WF to attempt to re-deposit the check. No problem. Why, as a loyal customer of WF am I required to do the leg work when a simple phone call or computer verification system could do the same thing in seconds? WTF? I'm getting screwed.

So--I'm looking for some advice. Are credit unions better? Is the fact that they are non-profit make them any more service oriented as opposed to dollar focused? Do they play the same money games that banks do?

Thoughts?

Posted by: Ensie at 07:04 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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1 I've used a credit union and found it a little better than a bank. Service wasn't terribly different but interest rates (on savings, CDs, etc.) were higher and the features were better. The hours can be less convenient at a credit union and you'll want to find out about their foreign ATM fees or ATM locations. Anything is better than Wells Fargo

Posted by: eden at June 20, 2006 05:31 AM (M2PUd)

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I feel like that all I've been doing lately is dealing with various minor crises (crisises?) and praying that we'll someday be able to cover the costs of this past month. There has been good mixed with the bad, but I'm calling it a draw in terms of coming out ahead. To recap:

1. Frinklin's grandmother passed away.

2. Adopted Clyde.

3. Back pain and hand numbness/painful tingling requiring several doctor's visits, two visits to the lab to have blood drawn, and two X-rays. No diagnosis with Doctor #1.

3. Frinklin's parents generously fulfill late grandmother's inheritance wishes by granting us a small amount of their funds, allowing us to pay off the Beetle and put a down payment on the Tribeca.

4. The Jeffrey starts dripping blood. Two visits to the vet, one minor surgery, much bloodwork, several X-rays and ultrasounds, one liver biopsy and $1300 later we discover that there is no liver shunt, his organs are apparently normal, and he still has bladder stones. Why he has stones is still a mystery, and our best bet for finding out what to do next is to send the stones for analysis to a university study in Minnesota. The stone analysis is FREE. F-R-E-E. I love Dr. Awesome Vet, but next time can we do the free part first?

5. Results come back from the X-rays. Dr. Man continues to be unhelpful and Dr. Woman provides wrist braces and a partial diagnosis: carpal tunnel.

6. After further analysis of the X-rays I have been diagnosed with scoliosis, meaning that all those embarrassing tests I did in Jr. High were worthless! While I don't currently require a brace or surgery, my spine is slowly sliding to the right (BTW-thanks for never noticing this Dr. Chiropractor!)

7. The Frinklin/Ensie household purchases (well, finances) a chair-and-a-half after years of Ensie wanting one but never having the funds and the right chair model available at the right time. The chair-and-a-half must be backordered for 8 - 10 weeks as it has been discontinued and "it may not be available at all."

9. The floor model chair-and-a-half (and much wanted but not originally ordered) ottoman and couch all become available for delivery this week at a reduced price. Delivery scheduled for Friday. Now we just have to get rid of the two couches we currently have.

Can I just sleep through the next couple of weeks?

Live in the Seattle/Tacoma area? Can you pick up a couch or two on Friday? Both in good shape, one is a double bed sleeper sofa. Email ensie1(at)gmail.com for further details. Pictures available.

Posted by: Ensie at 09:34 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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There are benefits to sleeping in. I learned this on Friday. Somehow I had fallen asleep again after the alarm went off and rushed into the shower at 8:30 instead of 7:30. While hurriedly drying off and getting dressed I noticed a small red mark on the carpet. Thinking it was an old stain I touched it. My finger came away red and wet.

Immediately I flew into action, thinking that one of the cats had gotten too enthusiastic while playing or someone had torn a claw open. While checking PercyÂ’s feet in the kitchen I glanced at The Jeffrey standing behind me and saw several red drops underneath his body. Quickly, I asked The Jeffrey to sit and lie down and began to examine him for an injury. Finally I found the source. The Jeffrey appeared to be bleeding from hisÂ…penis?

Great. Fantastic. What a way to get to know my brand new (awesome) vet I had seen once with Clyde. Fortunately, the receptionist was understanding and professional, and asked me to bring him in within the hour. I flew around the house grabbing a towel to cover a seat in the new car, rushing to the bedroom to grab socks, then back to The Jeffrey to mop up more blood. Before leaving I let both dogs out to pee and all systems appeared go.

As the vet’s (lets just call her Dr. Awesome from now on) office is only five minutes from our house and the trip was quick and non-eventful. Upon entering the office we were ushered into an examination room to speak with the vet-tech. I asked that The Jeffrey be muzzled, as his past experiences with veterinarians in San Diego always involved a lot of growling and threatening behavior. The tech offered him liver treats instead and proclaimed him, “Sweet!â€� I was told that most dogs seem very relaxed in this particular office for some reason, and she was right. For safety’s sake we did muzzle him for the exam, which was quick and again lacked any sort of growling or posturing. Either The Jeffrey was really hurting, or this office really did soothe the savage beast.

The JeffreyÂ’s diagnosis? Bladder stones. A big one moving down the urethra was causing the bleeding and minor surgery under anesthesia would be required for removal. A catheter would then be inserted to check for more stones that had moved out of the bladder and several blood and urine tests would need to be done. I didnÂ’t look at the estimate but told Dr. Awesome to do whatever needed to be done, no matter the cost. The Jeffrey was scheduled for surgery a couple of hours later and I left him in a cozy kennel promising to return soon. I warned the staff again to be careful as he had a history of aggression with strangers, walked out to the car, and proceeded to cry for a good five minutes before driving home. Leaving any vetÂ’s office with an unattached leash is an awful feeling.

The afternoon passed slowly and far too quietly without regular interruptions of barking at every single person who dare walk down our street. Phone calls flew every half hour between Frinklin, trapped at work in downtown Seattle, and my Mom in San Diego. Dr. Awesome had promised to call should anything go wrong and when the caller ID flashed “Dr. Awesomeâ€� twenty minutes into the scheduled surgery the blood rushing in my ears made it hard to hear. No emergency, just a check to see if I wanted to have some regular vaccinations done. I could hear again.

At four I returned to Dr. Awesome’s to pick up my pup, a little worse for wear. He was still tired from the drugs, but before leaving the receptionist shared some pictures they had taken before the surgery. There was my man-eater, shaking hands and rolling over on command. And here he is with Dr. Awesome hugging him! And here’s me hugging him! And here’s the vet tech! They played with The Jeffrey for 15 minutes before putting him under to “make sure his experience here is a good one.â€� I was complimented on his obedience training and “obviousâ€� effort put into such a great dog. Maybe they had given me the wrong dog? Or maybe when he’s lunging and foaming at the mouth when strangers walk by he’s really wanting to cuddle them?

Dr. Awesome walked me through the next steps and when we should know more (next week). I saw the nasty, now crushed, bladder stone that had caused all the drama. Such a small thing, but jagged and sharp in every direction. The Doc believes that he has at least a couple more stones that she was able to move back into the bladder from the urethra. I was plied with a 23-day supply of antibiotics and plenty of doggie aspirin to keep The Jeffrey comfortable. He slept on the drive home and only barked when Frinklin arrived from work. A small, slowly eaten meal capped off the evening and he snuggled on the bed with us for the rest of the night.

(On a side note I was far more frazzled than the dog and forgot my wallet at home as well as locking both doors to the house when retrieving him. Dr. AwesomeÂ’s receptionist kindly told me to call or stop in within the next few days to pay and fortunately the Toothless-Wonder kept the house safe.)

This morning The Jeffrey appeared to be back to normal outwardly. He had his first “puppy freakoutâ€� in several days and is happily peeing blood free. Frinklin and I were both surprised when Dr. Awesome called at noon to tell us the preliminary results of the tests as her office is closed on Saturday. Now you see why we call her Dr. Awesome. Both The Jeffrey’s kidneys and liver appear to be functioning abnormally and his thyroid measurements are rather low, which may be what has been contributing to his seeming inability to lose weight. We approved without knowledge of costs the sending of the removed stone to Minnesota for further examination and more blood-work. Results should be back on Tuesday or Wednesday with luck.

The Jeffrey is currently relaxing on his brand new bed and enjoying a brand new rawhide bone. Pray for good news next week.

more...

Posted by: Ensie at 10:32 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Before I get into the veterinary adventures I had on Friday, I thought I would share some pictures of our new kitty, Clyde. I metioned him some time ago, but what with grandmothers dying, new car buying, back problems, work that is eating up my life, and the rest it's been hard to get time to take pictures.

After taking way, way too many pictures in a couple days, I managed to come up with a few good ones. There is a lot of siamese in his breeding, something I never really liked, but find adorable in him. He's a pretty intense cat, which I think shows here. He loves to be picked up (from the front only, lest you want to suffer some serious wounds as he twists around) and "hug" your neck while rubbing his head against yours. His purr is definitely the loudest I've ever heard. At some point I'll try to get a good shot of his claws as they are frighteningly large and he knows exactly how to use them. I think he's missing his calling being in a house without mice.

According to his surrender papers at the Humane Society Clyde had been passed around several neighbors for various reasons, the most prominent being "tearing open and eating food on the counters." His most recent owner noted that he should be adopted by "someone who will train him to stay off the counters." How about if we just don't care? Would that work for you? Our cats are fed on top of the fridge, so they are actually required to walk on the counters. We have, after the loss of a loaf of bread that was stored in a ziplock bag, moved all tempting items into the cabinets.

Percy and Clyde have become fast friends, much to the delight of the two older cats who had grown very, very tired of sneak attacks in the form of orange fur.

Posted by: Ensie at 08:27 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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The Jeffrey has turned into a killer.

A few weeks ago he scared the crap out of Frinklin by attacking a full-grown opossum that happened to be in our backyard when he went outside before bed. Frinklin told the story here. Fortunately(?) the opossum survived and after playing dead for ten minutes it wandered away. We haven't seen it since.

Despite the fact that word must have spread by now throughout the oppossum community that ours is a house of death, we are still seeing baby oppossums regularly. Unfortunately, we are only seeing them dead. Yesterday while I filled out paperwork for the new car Frinklin ran home to pick up the title for our trade-in. He let The Jeffrey out for just over a minute which is apparently all the time it takes to maul a small opossum.

I've double checked with the vet to make sure that The Jeffrey's rabies vaccine is up to date. Fortunately rabies is not a problem with opossums in the area, only with birds and bats. I really can't take anymore bodies in the backyard though.

Posted by: Ensie at 06:54 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Cool.

Posted by: Ensie at 09:35 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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The flu appears to be gone. But then, just when you think it's safe--I have been running a low (just under 100 degrees) fever all week. Looks like another weekend of lying on the couch coming up. Wheee!

When it comes to my back, I decided the first thing to do was switch doctors. It's not that my old doctor was bad, it's just that he didn't seem to have a terribly great bedside manner. I much prefer women doctors for whatever reason, and when it comes to bedside manner, women usually spend more time listening to their patients. I know I'm biased, but women seem to understand women better.

First Dr. Woman confirmed what I had thought all along regarding my numb hands--I have carpal tunnel. Duh. Dr. Man had sent me to have lab work done and the cervical spine X-ray, all of which came back perfect. The braces Dr. Woman provided have elminated the pain and tingling that was waking me up at night. Follow up in a few weeks.

Secondly, Dr. Woman confirmed that I likely pulled a muscle in my back. Gentle movement, heating pad, and Advil. And finally, she found a pain point on my spine which warranted another X-ray, this time lumbar. Now I'm waiting on those results.

My body is going kicking and screaming out of my twenties. I turn thirty in less than three months.

Posted by: Ensie at 01:12 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I feel like all I've done lately is apologize for not posting. But I have a note from my doctor!

Is it possible for the flu to cause back problems?

On Friday morning I woke up feeling ill and by 10 AM I was on my way home to sleep for seven hours. A fever of 102 degrees was capped off by a round of vomiting at 1 AM. During the long nap, my back started aching. By the next morning the fever was gone, I was unbelieveably stiff, and it's only gotten worse. The pain was bad enough that I had to cancel two meetings today and worked from home, typing on my laptop from the prone position.

The earliest my doctor can see me is tomorrow. Pray it's not a herniated disk, just a strained muscle or something. I just had a cervical spine X-ray recently to try to discover the reason my hands are going numb constantly. Think the lower back pain and the numb hands are related? Hopefully I'll find out tomorrow.

Posted by: Ensie at 06:22 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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