Me: So what didja build with your Duplos?
His Highness: A graveyard without the headstones.
Me: Oh, just grass?
HH: No it's an underwater graveyard.
Me: Oh, an underwater graveyard. OK.
HH: Yeah, when people die they don't bury them in the sand; they just leave them there and wait for sharks to come and eat them.
Me: Well that's efficient.
HH: Yeah...
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 18, 2012
It's Like Drinking an Avalanche From a Firehose...
...with a haboob thrown in for good measure. And maybe a 10K. But not a real one, because I'm not up to 6 miles at a time yet in my running.
This is how my life feels over the past month. Some snippets--
--My doc gave me antibiotics for my (probably? maybe? possibly?) Lyme Disease. I took them for a month, and then they were done, and I got very nervous about what would happen next. All my blood work was negative, which sounds good, but with Lyme you just can never be sure with the bloodwork, so I took it with a grain of salt. At my recheck the doc reassured me, saying "You did a month of meds within 6 months of the initial tick bite. You're feeling better. If anything changes or you get another tick bite, let me know, but for now we assume you're done." And then over the following days when I got a weird itch or scared thought I repeated that to myself--"You're done, Skerrib." And I kept up with my jogging, and chasing after my kids, and complaining about the other hard things in my life (most of which aren't that hard, but it does me good to be honest about my feelings in a healthy way, as opposed to stuffing and exploding, which makes no one happy)...and now it is several weeks later and I do believe I'm done. Still neurotic about tick checks, but feeling good overall and not at all "punky" like I did pre-meds.
--And then, wouldn't you know it, the Littler One got a tick bite. I had the high privilege and abject horror of finding the tick and trying to remove it. It came off in pieces, but I placed them on a cotton ball inside a baggie, and off it traveled with us the next day to see the doc. She gave the Littler One a once-over and tested the tick, which came up negative for all things dangerous and/or gross. And negative tick tests are more reliable than negative blood tests, so we are relieved and happy all around, and grateful to know to save the dang tick whenever you can, people.
--My dad's mom died about a month ago now. She had had Alzheimer's Disease for some time, and things had been very difficult for a year or two, as the family had been dealing with finding the right care facility for her, among other things. That's all to say it's a big relief now to know she is healed and whole again, and as my uncle put it, reunited with my grandpa after almost 20 years apart. Tiny E and I traveled to Idaho for the memorial a couple weeks ago and had one of those experiences where you reconnect with family you never get to see, and have such a great time, except for wishing you weren't there for a funeral. Tiny E and I stayed with my cousin and her family, along with Thomasina, and we had a great time doing mostly ordinary errands and home things. Thomasina taught us how to make crepes, and my cousin has piles of frozen and canned goods from her garden that she grows herself, so we were all well-fed the entire time. Plus I was incredibly popular because I had a baby with me, which was actually the case the last time we were in Idaho 3 years ago. I told one of my aunts that showing up every few years with a baby was a habit I did not intend to maintain (but it was really fun to pass her around and see my family delight in my daughter as much as I do).
--Tiny E managed to roll off the bed in the middle of the night, and acted sore but OK until her shoulder swelled up while we were in ID, so we spent one morning at urgent care getting her x-rayed and determining that she broke her collarbone. She was sore and favoring her 'bad' side, but everything was otherwise in good position and there was nothing to be done except let it heal. At her re-check once we got home the doc said everything was looking good, and officially we should wait 4 weeks before manhandling her, but that really she was probably just fine already. So I'm still waiting before I start yanking her arms again, and both the Cat Daddy and I are extra watchful about the bed.
--After a really long and drawn-out process, I decided that I needed to surrender Max and Zoe to our local animal shelter, who can help them find new homes. There were about 10,000 factors leading to this decision, and even now I get trapped thinking "What if I did such-and-such?" but all things considered it was the best decision for them as well as us. I'm scatterbrained sometimes, and not always organized, but I've always cared deeply for our animals, and there's always been room in our home for all furry and non-furry family members, and I'm definitely not in the habit of getting rid of creatures, so it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I cried when I realized it had to be done. I cried in the days leading up to it. I cried as I dropped them off. I felt better after talking with the animal shelter staff and filling out the paperwork, and driving away dog-free until life circumstances allow otherwise. And then I spent the week sadder than I thought I'd be, and overwhelmed still, and really there's no better word than to say I've been grieving. I'm messy and my perspective is skewed. I've called in some support along the way, which has really helped (thank you Roots). Then today at church I began to feel a little more oriented, so I think I'm working thru it alright.
--And by the way we've settled on a local church. It's tiny (to us--under 100 people) and new (only a year old), but thus far the overall feel and personality fits us well. We've strongarmed our way into the music crowd, and are excited to get involved there. The Cat Daddy played bass in the service today, so we are off & running. I would say more, but I still feel very new and don't really have the words yet. Although today I sent E to the nursery and made it through my first complete sermon in many months, so there's that.
--I got selected to be on a book launch team for Rachel Held Evans's new book, and promptly got bowled over by all of the above, so while I technically fulfilled the requirements of being on the team, I haven't yet done the book report and responses I wanted to post here. I'm still really hoping to do those soon; maybe even before Christmastime so I can convince you all to give the book a read, because I did like it and I think many people would find it interesting, particularly if you like memoirs, women, Jesus, and/or think God thinks we're funny and maybe even laughs at us sometimes. Lovingly, of course.
--The Most Interesting Cat in the World has been at it again, and there will be more stories coming, honest. In the meantime he has managed to get himself put on a curfew during school hours, because kitties are not allowed inside the school, and because the staff didn't want spray bottles to help dissuade him from entering the building, even though I offered to provide them. As if they were already busy enough teaching kids and running a school (!). The upside (?) is that the principal knows me now. I have to say out of all the potential scenarios I had in my head going into this school year, getting a call from the principal about my cat was not included. But I guess overall it's preferable to most problems.
And hey, at least I don't have tuberculosis...
This is how my life feels over the past month. Some snippets--
--My doc gave me antibiotics for my (probably? maybe? possibly?) Lyme Disease. I took them for a month, and then they were done, and I got very nervous about what would happen next. All my blood work was negative, which sounds good, but with Lyme you just can never be sure with the bloodwork, so I took it with a grain of salt. At my recheck the doc reassured me, saying "You did a month of meds within 6 months of the initial tick bite. You're feeling better. If anything changes or you get another tick bite, let me know, but for now we assume you're done." And then over the following days when I got a weird itch or scared thought I repeated that to myself--"You're done, Skerrib." And I kept up with my jogging, and chasing after my kids, and complaining about the other hard things in my life (most of which aren't that hard, but it does me good to be honest about my feelings in a healthy way, as opposed to stuffing and exploding, which makes no one happy)...and now it is several weeks later and I do believe I'm done. Still neurotic about tick checks, but feeling good overall and not at all "punky" like I did pre-meds.
--And then, wouldn't you know it, the Littler One got a tick bite. I had the high privilege and abject horror of finding the tick and trying to remove it. It came off in pieces, but I placed them on a cotton ball inside a baggie, and off it traveled with us the next day to see the doc. She gave the Littler One a once-over and tested the tick, which came up negative for all things dangerous and/or gross. And negative tick tests are more reliable than negative blood tests, so we are relieved and happy all around, and grateful to know to save the dang tick whenever you can, people.
--My dad's mom died about a month ago now. She had had Alzheimer's Disease for some time, and things had been very difficult for a year or two, as the family had been dealing with finding the right care facility for her, among other things. That's all to say it's a big relief now to know she is healed and whole again, and as my uncle put it, reunited with my grandpa after almost 20 years apart. Tiny E and I traveled to Idaho for the memorial a couple weeks ago and had one of those experiences where you reconnect with family you never get to see, and have such a great time, except for wishing you weren't there for a funeral. Tiny E and I stayed with my cousin and her family, along with Thomasina, and we had a great time doing mostly ordinary errands and home things. Thomasina taught us how to make crepes, and my cousin has piles of frozen and canned goods from her garden that she grows herself, so we were all well-fed the entire time. Plus I was incredibly popular because I had a baby with me, which was actually the case the last time we were in Idaho 3 years ago. I told one of my aunts that showing up every few years with a baby was a habit I did not intend to maintain (but it was really fun to pass her around and see my family delight in my daughter as much as I do).
--Tiny E managed to roll off the bed in the middle of the night, and acted sore but OK until her shoulder swelled up while we were in ID, so we spent one morning at urgent care getting her x-rayed and determining that she broke her collarbone. She was sore and favoring her 'bad' side, but everything was otherwise in good position and there was nothing to be done except let it heal. At her re-check once we got home the doc said everything was looking good, and officially we should wait 4 weeks before manhandling her, but that really she was probably just fine already. So I'm still waiting before I start yanking her arms again, and both the Cat Daddy and I are extra watchful about the bed.
--After a really long and drawn-out process, I decided that I needed to surrender Max and Zoe to our local animal shelter, who can help them find new homes. There were about 10,000 factors leading to this decision, and even now I get trapped thinking "What if I did such-and-such?" but all things considered it was the best decision for them as well as us. I'm scatterbrained sometimes, and not always organized, but I've always cared deeply for our animals, and there's always been room in our home for all furry and non-furry family members, and I'm definitely not in the habit of getting rid of creatures, so it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I cried when I realized it had to be done. I cried in the days leading up to it. I cried as I dropped them off. I felt better after talking with the animal shelter staff and filling out the paperwork, and driving away dog-free until life circumstances allow otherwise. And then I spent the week sadder than I thought I'd be, and overwhelmed still, and really there's no better word than to say I've been grieving. I'm messy and my perspective is skewed. I've called in some support along the way, which has really helped (thank you Roots). Then today at church I began to feel a little more oriented, so I think I'm working thru it alright.
--And by the way we've settled on a local church. It's tiny (to us--under 100 people) and new (only a year old), but thus far the overall feel and personality fits us well. We've strongarmed our way into the music crowd, and are excited to get involved there. The Cat Daddy played bass in the service today, so we are off & running. I would say more, but I still feel very new and don't really have the words yet. Although today I sent E to the nursery and made it through my first complete sermon in many months, so there's that.
--I got selected to be on a book launch team for Rachel Held Evans's new book, and promptly got bowled over by all of the above, so while I technically fulfilled the requirements of being on the team, I haven't yet done the book report and responses I wanted to post here. I'm still really hoping to do those soon; maybe even before Christmastime so I can convince you all to give the book a read, because I did like it and I think many people would find it interesting, particularly if you like memoirs, women, Jesus, and/or think God thinks we're funny and maybe even laughs at us sometimes. Lovingly, of course.
--The Most Interesting Cat in the World has been at it again, and there will be more stories coming, honest. In the meantime he has managed to get himself put on a curfew during school hours, because kitties are not allowed inside the school, and because the staff didn't want spray bottles to help dissuade him from entering the building, even though I offered to provide them. As if they were already busy enough teaching kids and running a school (!). The upside (?) is that the principal knows me now. I have to say out of all the potential scenarios I had in my head going into this school year, getting a call from the principal about my cat was not included. But I guess overall it's preferable to most problems.
And hey, at least I don't have tuberculosis...
Oct 30, 2012
Mr Nipples Goes to the Vet...
In the previous post I mentioned how we had put a fresh collar and tag on Nipples after his three-day jaunt. It's not that we didn't keep a collar on him before; it's just that he had gone thru an entire arsenal of collars and tags, and the spare one I had for him had been sent with the movers, and on the day we moved into our house, we had neither gotten our stuff from the movers nor plunked down the money for a new collar and tag. And come to think of it, had he lost his then-current collar and tag in the move, or had we for some reason decided that it would be not-risky-at-all to move him across the friggin' country without his identification information? Because good grief, that was a dumb idea.
I digress...
Here's the thing: they make breakaway collars for cats for safety reasons. I totally get that, and as one with a cat who spends most of his time outdoors, I'm all for safety mechanisms to prevent him from getting hung up on bushes and branches and such. The thing is, I've also watched him deftly slip his little hind paw underneath the collar and snap it right off. The next consideration, then, is a teeny dog collar (because you can't get non-breakaway ones for cats), which if you think about all the stray bushes and branches, is a potentially-massive safety hazard. And if you believe all the marketing and advertisements for pet safety equipment, can really induce guilt in a nervous-type like myself.
So for the time being, we put the new breakaway collar and tag on the cat. And, true to form, within several weeks that collar disappeared as well. I sighed and thought about the spare collar in the drawer, which I fully intended to put on him just as soon as I remembered it when he was actually in the house, blah blah blah...when suddenly he went missing again.
This time it wasn't quite so dramatic. While walking the dogs one morning, he didn't come up meowing behind us as he normally does, and I thought about how I hadn't seen him since the day before. So I filed it in the back of my mind for the time being and went about the day. But as is common when I haven't seen the cat in a while, I kept checking outside for him everytime I walked by a window, and thought about setting a deadline for myself to start posting on our neighborhood forums to see if anyone had seen him lately.
It was either that same day or the next that I got a call from my friend Fazzi, whom you may remember used to own Nipples, and she was letting me know that he was at the vet's office just down the road from us. It turned out that a well-meaning neighbor from a half-mile or so away had found him and become concerned that he was lost. Since he didn't have any ID they couldn't call us to check up on him, so they took him to the vet, who read his microchip and called Fazzi, whose info was still on the microchip. Then Fazzi called us with the vet info so that we could go spring him loose. And despite my sometimes-curmudgeonly attitude about technology and such, this is why microchips, Facebook, and cell phones are good.
Well, after some finagling, and promising the vet that Nipples was current on all his things, and wrestling him into his much-maligned carrier, we brought him home again. We had the talk with the vet's office about his collar and they recommended putting a dab of superglue on the breakaway mechanism. And we thought hey, that's worth a shot, but we only had Elmer's glue so it had to do the job. Except Elmer's glue is definitely not superglue, so it worked for like three days before Nipples came sauntering home, collarless, and looking rather pleased that he had caused us to go through our entire collar supply yet again.
The Cat Daddy then offered some perspective on the matter. He pointed out that Pim had a non-breakaway collar for the entire time we had him, and was outside and in trees and woods, and never had a problem with getting hung up (wild animals eating him, yes; branches, no). He pointed out that, despite the terrible thought of getting hung up on shrubberies and tree branches, we had never actually heard or read about such a thing actually happening to a cat, or whether breakaway collars were invented because of a true threat or because someone thought "Hey what if this happens," and then made collars to break on purpose and pocketed millions of dollars from people's fears (If you have read or know about a cat dying because its collar got hung up on a branch PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME because I'd rather not be informed in this case). He reiterated that the breakaway collars were just not cutting the mustard in our case. He was right.
And when all was said and done the following things were true:
1) Nipples became the proud wearer of a 10" non-breakaway dog collar, which he has yet to lose or wriggle out of, and doesn't have a bell, which I think makes him happy. I used to cut the bells off his cat collars, so the dog collar even saved us a step.
2) We updated our info with the microchip company so if and when someone mistakes him for a lost cat and takes him to the vet they will be able to call us directly.
We sure learned a lot from Nipples' trip to the vet. For his part, Nipples cussed us out a little and ate a second helping of dinner that night. But as always, we were glad to have him home...
I digress...
Here's the thing: they make breakaway collars for cats for safety reasons. I totally get that, and as one with a cat who spends most of his time outdoors, I'm all for safety mechanisms to prevent him from getting hung up on bushes and branches and such. The thing is, I've also watched him deftly slip his little hind paw underneath the collar and snap it right off. The next consideration, then, is a teeny dog collar (because you can't get non-breakaway ones for cats), which if you think about all the stray bushes and branches, is a potentially-massive safety hazard. And if you believe all the marketing and advertisements for pet safety equipment, can really induce guilt in a nervous-type like myself.
So for the time being, we put the new breakaway collar and tag on the cat. And, true to form, within several weeks that collar disappeared as well. I sighed and thought about the spare collar in the drawer, which I fully intended to put on him just as soon as I remembered it when he was actually in the house, blah blah blah...when suddenly he went missing again.
This time it wasn't quite so dramatic. While walking the dogs one morning, he didn't come up meowing behind us as he normally does, and I thought about how I hadn't seen him since the day before. So I filed it in the back of my mind for the time being and went about the day. But as is common when I haven't seen the cat in a while, I kept checking outside for him everytime I walked by a window, and thought about setting a deadline for myself to start posting on our neighborhood forums to see if anyone had seen him lately.
It was either that same day or the next that I got a call from my friend Fazzi, whom you may remember used to own Nipples, and she was letting me know that he was at the vet's office just down the road from us. It turned out that a well-meaning neighbor from a half-mile or so away had found him and become concerned that he was lost. Since he didn't have any ID they couldn't call us to check up on him, so they took him to the vet, who read his microchip and called Fazzi, whose info was still on the microchip. Then Fazzi called us with the vet info so that we could go spring him loose. And despite my sometimes-curmudgeonly attitude about technology and such, this is why microchips, Facebook, and cell phones are good.
Well, after some finagling, and promising the vet that Nipples was current on all his things, and wrestling him into his much-maligned carrier, we brought him home again. We had the talk with the vet's office about his collar and they recommended putting a dab of superglue on the breakaway mechanism. And we thought hey, that's worth a shot, but we only had Elmer's glue so it had to do the job. Except Elmer's glue is definitely not superglue, so it worked for like three days before Nipples came sauntering home, collarless, and looking rather pleased that he had caused us to go through our entire collar supply yet again.
The Cat Daddy then offered some perspective on the matter. He pointed out that Pim had a non-breakaway collar for the entire time we had him, and was outside and in trees and woods, and never had a problem with getting hung up (wild animals eating him, yes; branches, no). He pointed out that, despite the terrible thought of getting hung up on shrubberies and tree branches, we had never actually heard or read about such a thing actually happening to a cat, or whether breakaway collars were invented because of a true threat or because someone thought "Hey what if this happens," and then made collars to break on purpose and pocketed millions of dollars from people's fears (If you have read or know about a cat dying because its collar got hung up on a branch PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME because I'd rather not be informed in this case). He reiterated that the breakaway collars were just not cutting the mustard in our case. He was right.
And when all was said and done the following things were true:
1) Nipples became the proud wearer of a 10" non-breakaway dog collar, which he has yet to lose or wriggle out of, and doesn't have a bell, which I think makes him happy. I used to cut the bells off his cat collars, so the dog collar even saved us a step.
2) We updated our info with the microchip company so if and when someone mistakes him for a lost cat and takes him to the vet they will be able to call us directly.
We sure learned a lot from Nipples' trip to the vet. For his part, Nipples cussed us out a little and ate a second helping of dinner that night. But as always, we were glad to have him home...
Oct 11, 2012
Mr Nipples Goes to Washington...
Nipples
Look at how sweet he is. Under his seemingly unassuming exterior lies a big case of bada$$ery. He is the most interesting cat in the world (click here for the backstory to the backstory).
Our move has gone quite well by most any standard. Other than the normal trauma of uprooting, relocating, and resettling, we have very little to complain about. Situated several miles outside the beltway of DC, our little town is fairly new in the grand scheme of things, and is entirely suburban, green, and quiet. Our little neighborhood within the town is into all things "natural," which in modern suburban terms means that we have nicely-groomed bits of nature scattered along our paved walkways (which I used to mock, but now that I'm better acquainted with Lyme Disease, I'm kind of in favor of paving paradise to put up a parking lot between me & the ticks), a nature center with small animals inside (including a corn snake) and fountained, algae-filled pond out front, clearly labeled with a "DO NOT TOUCH OR CONSUME THIS WATER" sign, and to their credit they did leave a good amount of woodlands in place when building in the area. That, or they put in the woodlands when they were turning farms into subdivisions around 10 years ago. Or some combination of both; I'm not really clear on the history of Ashburn yet. Anyway, on top of all that LOTS of the people are runners here. Half of me fits in perfectly. The other half good-naturedly mocks our semi-green, natural-esque ways.
My cat, however, has found his utopia with this move.
His first impression of Virginia was not good at all. We stayed in an extended-stay hotel for our first several weeks here, where Nipples was kept inside and spent his days sullenly plotting his next escape attempt. He destroyed one carrier, broke out of another one, and very-nearly forced us to buy a crate on the order of padlocked steel bars before we figured out how to keep him in his brand-new hard-sided carrier. I became the cat-catcher, hunting him down and carrying him back to our room for the majority of the times he succeeded in leaving our room, and found myself preparing my story before going out in public--"No sir, it really was my cat who gave me these marks."
Eventually we arrived in our house and unwisely succumbed to cat-parent-guilt, letting him out the first day. He promptly disappeared for three days, and we grew worried that he had:
a) Ditched us to head back to Wyoming
b) Met an untimely demise, similar to his predecessor
c) Wandered too far too soon and gotten disoriented
So I called the local animal shelter and posted on our HOA forums. Within a day we had a call that Nipples was in fact just a few streets over. Our neighborhood is arranged with great walking paths and greenways between the streets (perfect for wandering kitties and people), but not knowing how close he actually was, the Cat Daddy drove the long way to the area where he'd been sighted and found him sauntering down the sidewalk. When called, Nipples walked right over for hello-pats and followed the Cat Daddy back to the car. Upon entering the house he descended upon his food dish, devouring two helpings of kitty food and growling softly to make sure we didn't take it away. We put a fresh collar on him with our new address, and all was well with the world.
After that he was a little more tentative in his wanderings and did a much better job of orienting himself to his surroundings and finding his way back home to check in as he gradually increased his wandering radius. He also realized that he had adoring neighbors, as well as ample small wildlife to hunt, right nearby.
And that's when he decided to take the world--or at least our neighborhood--by storm...
Oct 2, 2012
In This Moment...
I feel like right now, in this moment, is the tricky part of moving. The hardest work is over. We are reasonably settled in the house. If you walked in you'd think "Gosh, not much on your walls, Skerrib" but overall it looks & feels lived-in. His Highness is well-settled into school, learning and enjoying himself for the most part, except for the complaint that school is boring. I would expect no less from a five-year-old boy. We are meeting people, and I think I'm doing a particularly good job of reaching out socially, talking with people I meet, and even spontaneously walking over to hang out with the neighbors in their driveway (heavens!!). We've visited five churches, and while nothing has offended us terribly, neither has anything jumped out and said, "This is your new church home." It rarely does though, so that's OK.
The tricky part of moving, to me, is the element of time. We are doing healthy and good things to get established, but we can't manufacture that home-y feeling. I haven't lost my humors, which is huge, but I'm a little down at not knowing many people. Still, to me that's not something to be forced.
To me this is the nuts & bolts that make up life. I'm a little down now because it's still the beginning. I miss sitting with my next-door neighbor while our kids destroy the place. I miss walking with Roots through her Maynard neighborhood, and running across the street to my friend's house in Lompoc (though they are in Hawaii now, which if I were dropping in over there would be awesome). I miss our busy Phoenix neighborhood, running the bridle paths at 5:30 am, waving to neighbors out walking along the way. My frame of reference is all the places I've lived before; the memories of social structure I had in those places, and the remaining pieces I still have with me in the form of friends and acquaintances (hello, Facebook. I'm glad you're here).
So I take small, daily, healthy steps. I will keep chatting with the other moms at kindergarten drop-off. We will help our friends move this weekend. I will get back onto a good exercise plan, now that my (maybe) Lyme is being treated. And by God, I am determined that I will succeed in leaving the children home with Daddy and have two hours by myself one day. We may visit another church this week, or go back to the one whose regular pastor was on vacation when we were there. Or we might skip and take a day trip 'cuz of Columbus Day weekend (as the Cat Daddy said "Thank God he discovered some islands in the Caribbean"). A play date next week, and so on beyond that.
Eventually these little things will add up to deeper connections. We won't necessarily notice it in the moment, but we will begin to find our favorite places and people. We will begin to belong. It has happened every time. I have found God and friends in every place; I just have to remember that in this moment...
The tricky part of moving, to me, is the element of time. We are doing healthy and good things to get established, but we can't manufacture that home-y feeling. I haven't lost my humors, which is huge, but I'm a little down at not knowing many people. Still, to me that's not something to be forced.
To me this is the nuts & bolts that make up life. I'm a little down now because it's still the beginning. I miss sitting with my next-door neighbor while our kids destroy the place. I miss walking with Roots through her Maynard neighborhood, and running across the street to my friend's house in Lompoc (though they are in Hawaii now, which if I were dropping in over there would be awesome). I miss our busy Phoenix neighborhood, running the bridle paths at 5:30 am, waving to neighbors out walking along the way. My frame of reference is all the places I've lived before; the memories of social structure I had in those places, and the remaining pieces I still have with me in the form of friends and acquaintances (hello, Facebook. I'm glad you're here).
So I take small, daily, healthy steps. I will keep chatting with the other moms at kindergarten drop-off. We will help our friends move this weekend. I will get back onto a good exercise plan, now that my (maybe) Lyme is being treated. And by God, I am determined that I will succeed in leaving the children home with Daddy and have two hours by myself one day. We may visit another church this week, or go back to the one whose regular pastor was on vacation when we were there. Or we might skip and take a day trip 'cuz of Columbus Day weekend (as the Cat Daddy said "Thank God he discovered some islands in the Caribbean"). A play date next week, and so on beyond that.
Eventually these little things will add up to deeper connections. We won't necessarily notice it in the moment, but we will begin to find our favorite places and people. We will begin to belong. It has happened every time. I have found God and friends in every place; I just have to remember that in this moment...
Sep 30, 2012
The Lyme Second Opinion...
So I got a second opinion on my potential Lyme Disease this past week. I visited a family practice that is also known for being Lyme Literate. Which is important when you think you could have Lyme Disease. I was cautiously optimistic going in, but still a little panicky under the surface (I think feeling unheard does that to a person). And then the Nurse Practitioner walked in, and was way more cheerful than I usually am, which would normally make me suspicious but in this case it set me at ease, and I layed out the gist of my story of the past month or so, and she layed out the following for me. I'm not sure of her exact words, but here is my paraphrase:
"We treat aggressively for Lyme here. We believe you. We are going to test and treat you, and then we are going to monitor you to see if you need more treatment, and we will keep watching you so we know you are better. And you are going to get better. Plus, you are smart, pretty, trustworthy, and a good mom & wife."
Fine, I threw that last sentence in myself. But that's what reassurance feels like.
So here's the rundown...
I had a confirmed tick bite plus flu-like symptoms. They were mild but they were persistent, they improved with the short run of antibiotics, and then they returned after I went off the meds. So even though I had no bullseye rash, I still have good indications for the longer run of antibiotics. The docs took my blood to test for all the major tick-borne illnesses, and put me on antibiotics for 30 days (Amoxicillin instead of Doxycycline because I'm nursing), as well as a yogurt regimen. After that time they'll test me again and watch me for further/returning symptoms. And so on for several months. It's kind of a pain, but I am very, very fortunate that I had a definite date of the tick bite, and that even though I didn't know about things such as saving the tick and getting a single dose of meds within 2 days, I knew enough to watch myself for symptoms and to address them quickly. Plus, over the past several weeks I've heard from several people I already knew, who continue to deal with Lyme Disease. Their experiences gave me good questions to ask, so I could be more confident about the answers I got. So thank you, people in my life who told me your stories. You helped me immensely and I appreciate it.
The nurse practitioner said oftentimes they get people who have been sick for several years, and by that point it is a much longer road to healing, and they get into the more permanent, chronic, and/or disabling effects. It's nasty, scary stuff, the Lyme Disease.
Therefore in the spirit of awareness and prevention, here are some sites for more information about Lyme Disease and tick-borne illness. Remember, speed counts. Don't adopt a laid-back approach of "wait & see," even if that is your normal style, like it is for me. And if at all possible, get to a doc who has lots of experience dealing with Lyme and tick-borne illnesses. There is conflicting and sometimes-controversial information out there. It can even get politicky at times, but the bottom line is this: if you are aggressive early on, the chances of full recovery without lingering/chronic effects are excellent.
ILADS
CDC
LymeNet
My doc doesn't know it yet, but I'm adopting her. As my regular doc; not, like, into my family or anything. That would be creepy.
But maybe we could be BFFs or something...
"We treat aggressively for Lyme here. We believe you. We are going to test and treat you, and then we are going to monitor you to see if you need more treatment, and we will keep watching you so we know you are better. And you are going to get better. Plus, you are smart, pretty, trustworthy, and a good mom & wife."
Fine, I threw that last sentence in myself. But that's what reassurance feels like.
So here's the rundown...
I had a confirmed tick bite plus flu-like symptoms. They were mild but they were persistent, they improved with the short run of antibiotics, and then they returned after I went off the meds. So even though I had no bullseye rash, I still have good indications for the longer run of antibiotics. The docs took my blood to test for all the major tick-borne illnesses, and put me on antibiotics for 30 days (Amoxicillin instead of Doxycycline because I'm nursing), as well as a yogurt regimen. After that time they'll test me again and watch me for further/returning symptoms. And so on for several months. It's kind of a pain, but I am very, very fortunate that I had a definite date of the tick bite, and that even though I didn't know about things such as saving the tick and getting a single dose of meds within 2 days, I knew enough to watch myself for symptoms and to address them quickly. Plus, over the past several weeks I've heard from several people I already knew, who continue to deal with Lyme Disease. Their experiences gave me good questions to ask, so I could be more confident about the answers I got. So thank you, people in my life who told me your stories. You helped me immensely and I appreciate it.
The nurse practitioner said oftentimes they get people who have been sick for several years, and by that point it is a much longer road to healing, and they get into the more permanent, chronic, and/or disabling effects. It's nasty, scary stuff, the Lyme Disease.
Therefore in the spirit of awareness and prevention, here are some sites for more information about Lyme Disease and tick-borne illness. Remember, speed counts. Don't adopt a laid-back approach of "wait & see," even if that is your normal style, like it is for me. And if at all possible, get to a doc who has lots of experience dealing with Lyme and tick-borne illnesses. There is conflicting and sometimes-controversial information out there. It can even get politicky at times, but the bottom line is this: if you are aggressive early on, the chances of full recovery without lingering/chronic effects are excellent.
ILADS
CDC
LymeNet
My doc doesn't know it yet, but I'm adopting her. As my regular doc; not, like, into my family or anything. That would be creepy.
But maybe we could be BFFs or something...
Sep 25, 2012
The Lyme Saga...
The (stupidly indecisive) bottom line is that I may or may not have Lyme Disease. Up until recently I was rationally and reasonably leaning toward "may not," but now I'm leaning toward "may." Or rather, I'm leaning toward "may have some sort of tick borne illness." One thing (among many) that stinks about Lyme Disease is that it can be really hard to say for sure whether you do or don't have it, or if you have had it, whether or not you are cured. So I'm walking around going "I might have Lyme Disease," the Cat Daddy's going "You don't have Lyme Disease!" and as far as my doctor's concerned the jury is still out.
I'm actually kind of mad about it right now, because as time goes on and I'm not really getting worse, but definitely not getting better, it's hard to know what to believe or trust. I tried detailing a timeline for your perusal and general enjoyment, but it made me want to poke out my eyeballs, and if I wanted to poke out my own eyeballs, there's no way you'd have wanted to sit through reading it. Here's the short version: based on all the reading I've done on the internet (allowing for extremes on both ends of the Lyme debate and trying to weave together a healthy balance of conservative Western medicine and alternative-medicine theories as well), I seem to be a good candidate for some antibiotics, particularly as time is going on and my vague and mild, yet persistent, symptoms are not going away. I've been to two docs, had two negative blood tests (no surprise there--even people who do have Lyme disease often come up negative on the blood tests), been declared otherwise healthy as a horse, and still don't feel well. My new doc here did a short run of antibiotics, which seemed to help while I was on them, but after stopping them I started feeling sick again.
I really, really want to trust in my doc's assessment, but now I'm to the point where she is still saying "wait & see, it might be a virus or sinus infection" and I'm all, "No really, I'm not getting better, and this is too long to feel sick, even if I'm not lying flat on the couch all the time, because I'd really rather it not get to that point." And she is kind and professional, but firm about waiting longer.
When it gets to this point I start to feel nervous and unheard. It happened 10 years ago, when I was still searching for the cause of what I now know is my stubborn sacrum (SI joint dysfunction). Several doctors in succession said "No you're fine, here's some tylenol," but I knew (KNEW) in my gut that something wasn't right, and that continuing to wait, at best, would not be helpful. In the end I was right, and eventually I found the right doc who found the problem, and while I deal with my stubborn sacrum to this day, it's not the big mysterious problem it was before I knew what it was.
Now, I don't want to be "that patient" who runs around to different doctors until she finds one who will tell her what she wants to hear...but I have yet to be convinced that I'm being heard, so there's that tricky balance of respecting the docs, being that they do have all that education and experience and so on, and being willing to self-advocate (even if it means being seen as a pain in the tookus) when I know that something is not quite right.
So I'm thinking it's time for a second opinion. And here's where medicine, relationships, and my nervous-issues all collide without making any sense--a lady I hardly know sent me a list of docs in the area who deal with Lyme (because I went ahead and asked for info even though I get nervous about revealing too much to new people who don't know me well), and one of the docs on there takes my insurance (which many, many "Lyme Literate" docs don't), and can get me in for an appointment. Tomorrow.
And while a big part of me is fairly nervous about hearing the same thing I've been getting for the past several weeks...a small but fierce part of me is very hopeful indeed. I figure if I'm seeing a doc with lots of experience with Lyme, just maybe I'll be able to hear them out and trust what they tell me, even if it isn't what I'm hoping to hear. So I cried tiny tears of relief after I made the appointment. I took control where I could, and I have hope that I will be heard.
And now you are, for all intents & purposes, up to speed on my own personal Lyme saga. So if I joke about it from here on out, you'll know where on earth I got that idea.
And don't give me any guff! After all, I might have Lyme Disease...
I'm actually kind of mad about it right now, because as time goes on and I'm not really getting worse, but definitely not getting better, it's hard to know what to believe or trust. I tried detailing a timeline for your perusal and general enjoyment, but it made me want to poke out my eyeballs, and if I wanted to poke out my own eyeballs, there's no way you'd have wanted to sit through reading it. Here's the short version: based on all the reading I've done on the internet (allowing for extremes on both ends of the Lyme debate and trying to weave together a healthy balance of conservative Western medicine and alternative-medicine theories as well), I seem to be a good candidate for some antibiotics, particularly as time is going on and my vague and mild, yet persistent, symptoms are not going away. I've been to two docs, had two negative blood tests (no surprise there--even people who do have Lyme disease often come up negative on the blood tests), been declared otherwise healthy as a horse, and still don't feel well. My new doc here did a short run of antibiotics, which seemed to help while I was on them, but after stopping them I started feeling sick again.
I really, really want to trust in my doc's assessment, but now I'm to the point where she is still saying "wait & see, it might be a virus or sinus infection" and I'm all, "No really, I'm not getting better, and this is too long to feel sick, even if I'm not lying flat on the couch all the time, because I'd really rather it not get to that point." And she is kind and professional, but firm about waiting longer.
When it gets to this point I start to feel nervous and unheard. It happened 10 years ago, when I was still searching for the cause of what I now know is my stubborn sacrum (SI joint dysfunction). Several doctors in succession said "No you're fine, here's some tylenol," but I knew (KNEW) in my gut that something wasn't right, and that continuing to wait, at best, would not be helpful. In the end I was right, and eventually I found the right doc who found the problem, and while I deal with my stubborn sacrum to this day, it's not the big mysterious problem it was before I knew what it was.
Now, I don't want to be "that patient" who runs around to different doctors until she finds one who will tell her what she wants to hear...but I have yet to be convinced that I'm being heard, so there's that tricky balance of respecting the docs, being that they do have all that education and experience and so on, and being willing to self-advocate (even if it means being seen as a pain in the tookus) when I know that something is not quite right.
So I'm thinking it's time for a second opinion. And here's where medicine, relationships, and my nervous-issues all collide without making any sense--a lady I hardly know sent me a list of docs in the area who deal with Lyme (because I went ahead and asked for info even though I get nervous about revealing too much to new people who don't know me well), and one of the docs on there takes my insurance (which many, many "Lyme Literate" docs don't), and can get me in for an appointment. Tomorrow.
And while a big part of me is fairly nervous about hearing the same thing I've been getting for the past several weeks...a small but fierce part of me is very hopeful indeed. I figure if I'm seeing a doc with lots of experience with Lyme, just maybe I'll be able to hear them out and trust what they tell me, even if it isn't what I'm hoping to hear. So I cried tiny tears of relief after I made the appointment. I took control where I could, and I have hope that I will be heard.
And now you are, for all intents & purposes, up to speed on my own personal Lyme saga. So if I joke about it from here on out, you'll know where on earth I got that idea.
And don't give me any guff! After all, I might have Lyme Disease...
Sep 1, 2012
The Upside...
The upside to all this upheaval is finding little gifts in the newness. I wonder if because I'm in everything-is-new mode, that I more naturally try new things. Either that, or I'm hitting that point where I'm delving into the things I'd put off "until the move." In the past two weeks I've tried no fewer than three new recipes (WAY more than I normally brave), done a bunch of research on doctors, churches, and child care (out of necessity), and even snuck in some new music via a friend.
You should click here and give it a listen. The whole song is nice, but see if you like the instrumental in the final minute as much as I did...
You should click here and give it a listen. The whole song is nice, but see if you like the instrumental in the final minute as much as I did...
Aug 31, 2012
Serenity Now. Maybe...
I just want you all to know that I don't blog nearly as often as I would like. Part of me wants to apologize "HI! Sorry I haven't written in forever..." but I tend to get annoyed when folks do that. People run blogs; blogs don't run people, so if they haven't written in forever what's it to everyone else (unless they get paid, in which case they need to get their butts to the computer and write, already)?? And beyond that, when reading other blogs I tend to skim past the apology anyway, cuz I want to get down to whatever the person is writing about.
So now that I've spent an entire paragraph not-apologizing, and also not writing about what I intended to say, I can get down to business and give an update on how moving to a new place blends in with one's neuroses. And really it boils down to just a few things--
--Change is hard for me. And I keep having to do it. I talk to people every so often who love (or think they would love) moving around every few years. They love the adventure of new places and people. They start to get restless after too long in one place. And they certainly have a point. I look back over 5 military moves and get all stuck in wonderment about how much I have enjoyed each of our places. I am compiling a massive list of wonderful acquaintances, and my smaller list of deep, likely lifelong friends contains people from all corners. Once I get settled it is a wonderful thing. The settling is hard though. I grieve the old and get impatient as I fret my way through the new, worrying that this or that may not materialize and I'll be stuck with a void in some significant (to me) area for this round of life. I am getting better at not panicking, but I stubbornly (and rightfully, I believe) refuse to pretend that it isn't hard anymore. For some folks it really isn't as difficult, and that's OK. For me it is, and that's OK to admit.
--Control is a tricky thing. I'm a big fan of the Serenity Prayer: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference..." So much of growing in God's grace involves relinquishing control of things I've desperately tried to hold onto in this life. I need and desire healthy relationships, but trying to get them through control is counterproductive. So I have to let God and a trusted few teach me how to be a friend. I need and desire my social structure and support system, but it keeps changing every few years, and to try to keep things exactly the same, when all other parts of my life are changing significantly, is futile. So I have to trust that God cares deeply for me, and knows my particular, quirky needs, and will meet them every time. Even if it looks different than before. But at the same time, there are steps I can take; freedoms God gives me to let my preference be known and to free my heart from random stupid things that weigh it down.
Case in point: I have been growing more frustrated with my military medical experience in recent years. At our first two duty stations I was fortunate--I felt comfortable with and trusted my doctors. Since then, not so much. It may have more to do with the system than with the doctors themselves. Or it may be that there are more than a few less-than-desirable docs out there and I'd just been really lucky not to encounter them until my 30's. Who knows. I'd been flirting with Tricare's Standard option, where you get to pick your doctors and don't have to mess with referrals. They try to discourage you from doing the Standard option because you have to pay part of your costs out of pocket, and don't get priority at military treatment facilities, and then you're locked out of the "Prime" option for a year. Which, considering my experiences in recent years, provide less & less incentive to stick with Prime. Well, to make a long story short, our circumstances here led me to petitioning for some exceptions to policy, and those petitions being denied (or "disapproved," as they so judgmentally put it), leaving me with the option to drive over 30 minutes every time I or the kiddos need to see a doctor, or to switch to Standard and having the freedom to choose our own docs closer to home. So I chose the latter. I don't think Tricare really cares what I do as long as I pay my bills and stay within the regs--accept the things I cannot change--but to me it felt like a big victory, to take action on this issue that had actually been bugging me for some time. To have the courage to change something I could.
--I really do have a lot happening at once. So I've been very deliberately remaining in the moment, concentrating on what I need to get thru that hour, or day, or week. And slowly, I am checking things off my list. I've been working on weeding through our stuff because it makes me crazy and I really do want to get rid of most of it. Except I have a family who like to wear clothes, and sleep in beds, so there are negotiations to be had as to what stays and what goes. And THEN in my mailbox yesterday, a flyer letting me know that so-and-so organization will be in my neighborhood in a week or so, and would I like to donate clothing and household items. And a weight was lifted--there is a place for my stuff to go! All I have to do is get it out to my curb on such-and-such date!
And just these little victories did so much for my morale. Even though the Cat Daddy was out of town for a few days, and the Littler One spilled printer ink on the white-ish carpet, and I may not get to start P90X until my baby sleeps for longer spurts in the evenings. Taking control where I could made it a little easier to endure the things I have little control over. Not in a "Great, I'm fixed now!" way; more of an "OK, I can live with that. Bring on the carpet cleaner. Again." sort of deal.
I found an index card where I had written two verses. I don't know when, but it must have been ages ago, because they were written in fancy colored gel pen ink, so I'm thinking maybe 10 years ago or more because that's when I last had fancy colored gel pens (and a little notebook of black paper. Cuz I'm hip that way). And I don't know why I wrote them, or what the objective was that day, but they are as true of me now as ever. The first verse is from Psalms (I think); it says something like "Search me and know my anxious thoughts." And the second verse is from Job and talks about how no plans of God's can be thwarted. So now that card is on my fridge. And between eating and cooking and cleaning and taking care of dogs (who are penned there until they stop peeing on the carpet!), I spend a lot of time in my kitchen, so I glance at that card a lot. And then God gets several reminders per day that I'm a nervous type, and then I get several reminders per day that He remembers that, and even my nerves can't thwart Him 'cuz he is BIG.
All to say that things are moving along. And I have many varied and brilliant posts in my head. You could read them if you were psychic. Too bad...
So now that I've spent an entire paragraph not-apologizing, and also not writing about what I intended to say, I can get down to business and give an update on how moving to a new place blends in with one's neuroses. And really it boils down to just a few things--
--Change is hard for me. And I keep having to do it. I talk to people every so often who love (or think they would love) moving around every few years. They love the adventure of new places and people. They start to get restless after too long in one place. And they certainly have a point. I look back over 5 military moves and get all stuck in wonderment about how much I have enjoyed each of our places. I am compiling a massive list of wonderful acquaintances, and my smaller list of deep, likely lifelong friends contains people from all corners. Once I get settled it is a wonderful thing. The settling is hard though. I grieve the old and get impatient as I fret my way through the new, worrying that this or that may not materialize and I'll be stuck with a void in some significant (to me) area for this round of life. I am getting better at not panicking, but I stubbornly (and rightfully, I believe) refuse to pretend that it isn't hard anymore. For some folks it really isn't as difficult, and that's OK. For me it is, and that's OK to admit.
--Control is a tricky thing. I'm a big fan of the Serenity Prayer: "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference..." So much of growing in God's grace involves relinquishing control of things I've desperately tried to hold onto in this life. I need and desire healthy relationships, but trying to get them through control is counterproductive. So I have to let God and a trusted few teach me how to be a friend. I need and desire my social structure and support system, but it keeps changing every few years, and to try to keep things exactly the same, when all other parts of my life are changing significantly, is futile. So I have to trust that God cares deeply for me, and knows my particular, quirky needs, and will meet them every time. Even if it looks different than before. But at the same time, there are steps I can take; freedoms God gives me to let my preference be known and to free my heart from random stupid things that weigh it down.
Case in point: I have been growing more frustrated with my military medical experience in recent years. At our first two duty stations I was fortunate--I felt comfortable with and trusted my doctors. Since then, not so much. It may have more to do with the system than with the doctors themselves. Or it may be that there are more than a few less-than-desirable docs out there and I'd just been really lucky not to encounter them until my 30's. Who knows. I'd been flirting with Tricare's Standard option, where you get to pick your doctors and don't have to mess with referrals. They try to discourage you from doing the Standard option because you have to pay part of your costs out of pocket, and don't get priority at military treatment facilities, and then you're locked out of the "Prime" option for a year. Which, considering my experiences in recent years, provide less & less incentive to stick with Prime. Well, to make a long story short, our circumstances here led me to petitioning for some exceptions to policy, and those petitions being denied (or "disapproved," as they so judgmentally put it), leaving me with the option to drive over 30 minutes every time I or the kiddos need to see a doctor, or to switch to Standard and having the freedom to choose our own docs closer to home. So I chose the latter. I don't think Tricare really cares what I do as long as I pay my bills and stay within the regs--accept the things I cannot change--but to me it felt like a big victory, to take action on this issue that had actually been bugging me for some time. To have the courage to change something I could.
--I really do have a lot happening at once. So I've been very deliberately remaining in the moment, concentrating on what I need to get thru that hour, or day, or week. And slowly, I am checking things off my list. I've been working on weeding through our stuff because it makes me crazy and I really do want to get rid of most of it. Except I have a family who like to wear clothes, and sleep in beds, so there are negotiations to be had as to what stays and what goes. And THEN in my mailbox yesterday, a flyer letting me know that so-and-so organization will be in my neighborhood in a week or so, and would I like to donate clothing and household items. And a weight was lifted--there is a place for my stuff to go! All I have to do is get it out to my curb on such-and-such date!
And just these little victories did so much for my morale. Even though the Cat Daddy was out of town for a few days, and the Littler One spilled printer ink on the white-ish carpet, and I may not get to start P90X until my baby sleeps for longer spurts in the evenings. Taking control where I could made it a little easier to endure the things I have little control over. Not in a "Great, I'm fixed now!" way; more of an "OK, I can live with that. Bring on the carpet cleaner. Again." sort of deal.
I found an index card where I had written two verses. I don't know when, but it must have been ages ago, because they were written in fancy colored gel pen ink, so I'm thinking maybe 10 years ago or more because that's when I last had fancy colored gel pens (and a little notebook of black paper. Cuz I'm hip that way). And I don't know why I wrote them, or what the objective was that day, but they are as true of me now as ever. The first verse is from Psalms (I think); it says something like "Search me and know my anxious thoughts." And the second verse is from Job and talks about how no plans of God's can be thwarted. So now that card is on my fridge. And between eating and cooking and cleaning and taking care of dogs (who are penned there until they stop peeing on the carpet!), I spend a lot of time in my kitchen, so I glance at that card a lot. And then God gets several reminders per day that I'm a nervous type, and then I get several reminders per day that He remembers that, and even my nerves can't thwart Him 'cuz he is BIG.
All to say that things are moving along. And I have many varied and brilliant posts in my head. You could read them if you were psychic. Too bad...
Jul 28, 2012
Coming Up to Speed...
-The movers were with us the week of July 4, packing and loading all our stuff. On July 6 the big truck pulled away, carrying most of our worldly possessions. At 2 pm on July 9 we left Cheyenne. We made our way across the country, arriving in Herndon Virginia on July 13.
-Grandma & Grandpa (my parents) flew in from Phoenix and were waiting to meet us when we arrived. They like the Cat Daddy & me, but they REALLY like the boys, and they REALLY helped us by taking care of them while we looked for houses.
-We looked at several rental houses in the greater-suburban-DC area (I think the locals call it Northern Virginia, or NOVA), and settled upon a lovely place in lovely Ashburn. It is quite an area--very affluent, very pretty, and currently very hot & muggy--but that's another post. More importantly we will be five minutes away from friends of ours, which we are pretty dang excited about.
-But the lease doesn't take effect until August 1. Grandpa & Grandma were with us just over a week at the extended-stay hotel, and then thankfully we were able to extend our reservation until we move in.
-The extended stay place is pretty nice. We have two bedrooms, a little living room, and most of a kitchen. They say it's a full kitchen, but there's no oven so I'm inclined to disagree on that count. Still, other than the oven thing, it's pretty well-equipped so we can eat in a fair amount of the time. Plus, the hotel provides breakfast every day and dinner three nights per week, and they even have fruits & vegetables so we don't get scurvy, or rickets, or something. I feel good about that.
-The hotel takes pets, but charges a pet fee for each one, which gets expensive quickly. Our friends in Ashburn have gone above & beyond in dog sitting for us. Max and Zoe have good hearts, but are not the best behaved dogs ever, and our friends have taken the neediness, neuroses, and doggie-pee in stride for over two weeks now. Did I mention how grateful we are? Cuz we are.
-Nipples has been with us, but is not having the best time ever. We have kept him inside so as not to induce confusion about where "home" is. Honestly he'd probably do just fine since he is as sharp as he is fierce. We are being extra-cautious though, so inside he is, until after we get to the new house.
-As a result, he has adopted a life's mission of escaping at all costs. Thru trial and error, and a series of angry-kitty rescues, we devised a system for keeping him contained as we come and go from our little suite, so he just has to be in his carrier when housekeeping comes. He then destroyed the clasp on his original carrier, busted through the zipper on Zoe's soft-sided carrier, and even managed to break out of his brand-new hard-sided carrier before we found two clips we hadn't fastened properly. Now he is safely contained.
-The kids are doing well overall. Hotel pools are brilliant.
-The Cat Daddy has had some time off, due to waiting for security paperwork. Incredibly helpful. The Littler One had what we're pretty sure was Hand Foot & Mouth disease, and I had a random fever/sore throat/headache for a day or two. I made the Cat Daddy check my scalp for a bullseye rash to (sort of) rule out Lyme Disease, and he was all "You should never shave your head," and I was all "Thanks for that, but is there a rash?" And there wasn't, so I felt better about probably not having Lyme disease. It is worth noting that I most likely didn't even have a tick bite, but the whole story is long & boring, so let's assume that with my neuroses it was worth checking. And I recovered quickly anyway, so we're good now.
-I'm more & more "anti-stuff" lately, or more accurately "selective stuff." I packed lightly but wisely for our stint in extended-stay and while there are a few things I learned for the next time, overall I'm very pleased and most importantly don't feel overrun by stuff. That said, I am looking forward to getting into what will be our own space for the next two years, with our own stuff. Even if I want to get rid of half of it.
-Speaking of which, our stuff will arrive on August 6, exactly one month after it left on the big truck. The movers will unpack us over the 6th & 7th, during which time Mrs Z and her crew will be with us for practical help and overall moral support, so I am hopeful I will not implode from the pressure of figuring out where everything goes RIGHT NOW (we've never had them unpack us completely before, so it is a new endeavor for me).
-This is the most time I've gotten to spend on a blog post in a while, and I can only assume that I've just jinxed myself and bedlam & mutiny are about to ensue, so I'd better quit while I'm up to speed.
Stay classy, Ashburn...
-Grandma & Grandpa (my parents) flew in from Phoenix and were waiting to meet us when we arrived. They like the Cat Daddy & me, but they REALLY like the boys, and they REALLY helped us by taking care of them while we looked for houses.
-We looked at several rental houses in the greater-suburban-DC area (I think the locals call it Northern Virginia, or NOVA), and settled upon a lovely place in lovely Ashburn. It is quite an area--very affluent, very pretty, and currently very hot & muggy--but that's another post. More importantly we will be five minutes away from friends of ours, which we are pretty dang excited about.
-But the lease doesn't take effect until August 1. Grandpa & Grandma were with us just over a week at the extended-stay hotel, and then thankfully we were able to extend our reservation until we move in.
-The extended stay place is pretty nice. We have two bedrooms, a little living room, and most of a kitchen. They say it's a full kitchen, but there's no oven so I'm inclined to disagree on that count. Still, other than the oven thing, it's pretty well-equipped so we can eat in a fair amount of the time. Plus, the hotel provides breakfast every day and dinner three nights per week, and they even have fruits & vegetables so we don't get scurvy, or rickets, or something. I feel good about that.
-The hotel takes pets, but charges a pet fee for each one, which gets expensive quickly. Our friends in Ashburn have gone above & beyond in dog sitting for us. Max and Zoe have good hearts, but are not the best behaved dogs ever, and our friends have taken the neediness, neuroses, and doggie-pee in stride for over two weeks now. Did I mention how grateful we are? Cuz we are.
-Nipples has been with us, but is not having the best time ever. We have kept him inside so as not to induce confusion about where "home" is. Honestly he'd probably do just fine since he is as sharp as he is fierce. We are being extra-cautious though, so inside he is, until after we get to the new house.
-As a result, he has adopted a life's mission of escaping at all costs. Thru trial and error, and a series of angry-kitty rescues, we devised a system for keeping him contained as we come and go from our little suite, so he just has to be in his carrier when housekeeping comes. He then destroyed the clasp on his original carrier, busted through the zipper on Zoe's soft-sided carrier, and even managed to break out of his brand-new hard-sided carrier before we found two clips we hadn't fastened properly. Now he is safely contained.
-The kids are doing well overall. Hotel pools are brilliant.
-The Cat Daddy has had some time off, due to waiting for security paperwork. Incredibly helpful. The Littler One had what we're pretty sure was Hand Foot & Mouth disease, and I had a random fever/sore throat/headache for a day or two. I made the Cat Daddy check my scalp for a bullseye rash to (sort of) rule out Lyme Disease, and he was all "You should never shave your head," and I was all "Thanks for that, but is there a rash?" And there wasn't, so I felt better about probably not having Lyme disease. It is worth noting that I most likely didn't even have a tick bite, but the whole story is long & boring, so let's assume that with my neuroses it was worth checking. And I recovered quickly anyway, so we're good now.
-I'm more & more "anti-stuff" lately, or more accurately "selective stuff." I packed lightly but wisely for our stint in extended-stay and while there are a few things I learned for the next time, overall I'm very pleased and most importantly don't feel overrun by stuff. That said, I am looking forward to getting into what will be our own space for the next two years, with our own stuff. Even if I want to get rid of half of it.
-Speaking of which, our stuff will arrive on August 6, exactly one month after it left on the big truck. The movers will unpack us over the 6th & 7th, during which time Mrs Z and her crew will be with us for practical help and overall moral support, so I am hopeful I will not implode from the pressure of figuring out where everything goes RIGHT NOW (we've never had them unpack us completely before, so it is a new endeavor for me).
-This is the most time I've gotten to spend on a blog post in a while, and I can only assume that I've just jinxed myself and bedlam & mutiny are about to ensue, so I'd better quit while I'm up to speed.
Stay classy, Ashburn...
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