embarrassed, once again...

Really, this post by Riverbend is worth reading... (note: you might have to scroll down if the page loads broken)

Elvis has left the desktop...

Ok, I'll share my little entertainment secret. I have Tiny Elvis on my computer at work. He entertains me on the hour, but I could set him to pop up more often. You can choose fat Elvis, kinda fat Elvis, or Elvis in his skinny hey-day. Anyway, it's hysterical. So, consider yourself bequeathed of something good...Oh yeah, it's free.

Link: Click on "software" to get to Tiny Elvis.

THANKS ALL YOU CRAZY NUTS WHO ARE BIDDING ON MY LITTLE FOLK PAINTINGS. I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ALL HAVE THAT MUCH DISPOSABLE INCOME ;-) (but I love you for it)...thank you! thank you! thank you!!!!!!

EBAY mo-fo...

Yo, there are still $10 paintings on Ebay (if you want to partake of such madness). Click the cute little Ebay icon-button-link-thingy to the left.

Not that I'm self-promoting or anything...

letters to famous people...

I decided to take time out of my busy, busy, busy, busy day to write to two very famous, very rich people. I hope it warms your heart that I am sharing them with you now.

Dear Oprah (click to read)

Dear Tom (click to read again, duh)

Have a great monday (notice the lowercase letter).

I saw a 100-pound roach in my house last night and nearly passed out.
I. DO. NOT. CO-EXIST. WITH. ROACHES.
Spraying will commence promptly on Wednesday.

dot, dot, dot...

Latest Google search words that led to my site: knitting + turd + medication

I think that might be a statement about my life in general.

But let us not be so negative.

It turns out that poor little Peanut had a puncture wound (a la Yuki) on his back right elbow/knee--whatever. It became abcessed, so they had to lance it (hoark). Anyway, on to daily antibiotics and cleansing with hydrogen peroxide to keep the wound open and draining. Peanut is not a fan of medical care. Nice.

As for Rooney, we've hit the wall with our generalist vet care and they're preparing a referral to the University of Tennessee Vet School where we can get him evaluated by some specialists. There's a possibility of myasthenia gravis (a very serious neurological disorder rare in cats). Real Nice.

Rooney did receive some subcutaneous fluids to rehydrate him and he's puny but feeling a little better. We will do everything we can for him. That's the personal contract when we bring critters home. If you don't wanna take care of 'em, don't get 'em. Even when puny he's the hit of the animal hospital and one vet tech scoops him up every chance she gets...she joked, "I'm taking him back [for fluids]...and right out the back door."

I hope we can do something for him.

Thanks to all you guys who have been bidding on my little paintings. :-)

there's more...

ON EBAY:

and




In other news: I'm just trying to not fall apart. Rooney lost function in his legs last night and, although better today, I'm taking him in for more subcutaneous fluids in about an hour. Peanut has also injured his hind leg and is squeezing in as well. Shit! You cats get it together! You're killin' your mama.

Crazy Cat Lady Strikes Again.

This little painting "Mealtime at Crazy Cat Lady's House" went up yesterday evening...

aftershocks...

I hope I can spend next year's Father's Day remembering the good things and not feeling like I'm going off the deep end...reading other people's posts about how great their dads are just about eviscerated me. This week has been low, low, low...

Click'n'bid...

First Ebay Listing (7 days)

AND NOW FOUR MORE...

Father's Day Sucked.

But I did the best I could. I thought I would throw up my heart all weekend. It was worse than getting through his birthday.

We went here and did this and managed to have some fun, despite the giant lump in my throat the entire time, despite the fact that I stuck my tongue out at the aquarium photographer (and not in a nice way), despite the fact that I set off an alarm in the art museum (not on purpose, just not thinking straight...). Despite my best efforts Sunday came and boiled me in oil. I felt sick. I felt tired. My bones hurt. I couldn't focus. I couldn't drink enough beer. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't like anyone and still don't today.

After we got home, I gathered from my own garden some hydrangea blossoms, lavender, chocolate mint and rosemary and tied them together in an informal bouquet and took them to Daddy's grave. Daddy was never big on store-bought things and I was quite sure he'd much rather have a bouquet planted with my own hands instead of the silly flowers dipped in food-coloring (who started that ridiculous trend, anyway?).

The little white country church where Daddy is buried with his parents was established in 1897 and overlooks a beautiful valley. Hawks usually circle above searching the fields for rodent-crunchies and there are some small farms with sheep, goats, horses and donkeys. It was a nice evening and fairly quiet except for an impatient rooster showing off his pipes and a big dog barking with some crazy redneck woman screaming at it to shut-up. I thought to myself, "I hope that dog bites you...hard." She was twice as irritating as the dog.

I noodled with the flowers and set them in front of the headstone and then worried that he couldn't enjoy them on that side, so I moved them to the other side. I set them down one way and then another; propped them up on the stone then decided to lay them flat on the ground. I crumpled some of the leaves to release the wonderful aroma of the herbs.

And then there was nothing to do. I paced around a little, wondering what to do, wanting to talk to the stone, but feeling weird and sick-hearted.

About 20 feet away, a grave had been dug and the vault lay haphazardly beside it waiting to be inserted. I walked up to it and looked at it, then stared down into the six-foot-deep grave. I was surprised at the exactness of the hole and wondered how they got the sides so perfectly straight. I wondered who would be laid to rest here in that hole.

I thought of that show I used to love--Six Feet Under--and how I never wanted to see it again. EVERYTHING is different now.

I toured other relatives in the cemetary, including cousins, aunts, uncles, great-grandparents. There were also little markers for several children who died before they even reached school age. One family had markers for three babies; one living just a day.

I wondered how many people were affected by all these loved ones buried around me. Some stones were heavily decorated; some were marked as if they had been transients...a tarnished metal placeholder with a number scrawled on it. A giant yucca plant grows over my great-grandfather's grave. You have to part the plant with both hands in order to find his stone. Between him and my grandmother is a mystery grave. My father was supposed to be buried there next to his mother, but they had to move him to the other side next to his father because there is an unknown grave there.

Eventually after pondering and walking in circles for about 30 minutes (or more) I finally got in my car to leave. I watched Daddy's grave the entire time I drove away--as I always do. Am I afraid that will be taken from me, too?

As I leave I always see his best friend's headstone on the way out of the cemetary--the one whose mother spent the entirety of his earnings he sent home from the Army in the 50's. He came home to nothing and had to borrow a cigarette because he didn't have the money to buy a pack. He re-enlisted and eventually jumped from a tall building window in Germany, staying in a hospital for months and barely surviving. But that's not my story to tell. There are always flowers on his grave as well, along with some small figurines.

I drive to the front of the church and wonder if it will always be there; taking care of Daddy's resting place. Then it's down the long driveway to the two-lane highway and I turn right. It's such a lonely feeling to make that turn, to leave him there. I want to stay there and lie down next to his grave but then I would find that, just as I couldn't get the flowers right, I wouldn't be able to position myself in a way that made things okay--because they're not okay.

I try to enjoy the scenery before I get back to the busy four-lane highway, mentally saying hello to a scraggly miniature horse who is still losing his long winter coat, two donkeys who graze in a distant field, a horse and goat who share a yard next to a trailer, another horse and large cow who graze side-by-side next to a large garden with several rows of corn and sometimes a fairly large flock of sheep with dark heads.

Then...then what?

so much for that...

My computer at home is on the fritz. After waiting 15 minutes for it to boot up, I threw my hands up and went to bed. I guess I will have to plan on auctioning next week. Man, it's always sumpin'.

See you next week, I'm partaking in distraction this weekend in the form of a music festival...

p.s. Sadie and Rooney both seem to be doing fine. We cut Sadie's Lysodren dosage in half and the subcutaneous fluids and antibiotics for Rooney perked him right up. My poor mother will be trying to give pills to two of our cats while we are gone. When I showed her how to do it, she looked at me like I had asked her to leap off a cliff. She replied, "Well, I'll try..." If only I had a webcam set up...

mea culpa crap...

Okay, I lied. We took my mother on a bike ride and then I staked my tomatoes, watered the plants, gave the animals their meds and got sleepy. Farfigknugen. I'll try to get to it tonight. Ebay, that is.

and then...

I'm not going to bed until I have something up on Ebay. Honest. I can't get anything done. I'm moving in slow motion and the world seems to have sped up to mach 3.

I am the gum on my shoe.

No, that doesn't make any sense.

But it feels just about right.

one long-ass post...

Furry Kids Update: Apparently finding out the right maintenance dose for Cushing's Disease can be tricky, so the vet took more blood to see what her cortisol levels were and put her on Prednisone for a couple of days until we get results back. Then, we might find that we need to adjust her Lysodren dosage. So, hopefully we'll be okay in the long-run. I'm taking poor little Rooney to the vet today after work because he's getting dehydrated again.

Father's Day is bearing down on me like an oppressive heat wave. I can hardly breathe. Sunday's paper was stuffed with flyers for Father's Day gifts. People mention in passing what they are going to get their fathers for Father's Day. Every sign I pass says "Don't forget Dad this Father's Day!" "Father's Day Sale!" I can't get to Father's Day fast enough so Father's Day can be over. I have to constantly dart my eyes away to keep the constant onslaught of advertising at bay. It's EVERYWHERE--Father's Day. It's like being constantly impaled through the heart.

I am not sitting at home on Father's Day. I am going to a semi-worth-hearing music festival. Hopefully getting away from the stacks of photos, cards and other reminders will keep me from completely wigging out this Sunday. I just want to get through it. Man, it hurts. Man, I can't even think straight.

One thing I have gotten an education on is grief. We only touched on grief a little in grad school and I really didn't feel the need to delve into it, but I will never look at loss the same way. I will know why a person still can't string together a sentence four months later. I'm still scheduling meetings on the wrong month.

One thing I wanted to know was how long am I going to feel as though I've got an ax in middle of my back. The answer is: a long time. The following information is some ballpark timelines on the long-term toll grief dishes out. The information comes from Beyond Indigo. It's been a very helpful site for me.

1.SHOCK AND NUMBNESS (High level during first 2 weeks)

Feelings may include: disbelief, denial, anger, guilt.

Behaviours may include: crying, searching, sighing, physical symptoms, loss of appetite, sleep disturbance, muscle weakness, limited concentration, inability to make decisions, emotional outburst(s), impeded functioning.

2.SEARCHING AND YEARNING (High level from 2 weeks to 4 months)

Feelings may include: despair, apathy, depression, anger, guilt, hopelessness, self-doubt, very sensitive to stimuli.

Behaviours may include: restlessness, impatience, poor memory and lack of concentration, social isolation, crying, anger, loss of energy, testing what is real.

Comments: In crisis, we become open to a wider spectrum of stimuli in our environment. We are susceptible to over-reading stimuli. We need to talk things out in order to refocus our interpretations. We cannot get through the mourning process alone. It is important to reach out during the first four months when motivation is high.

3.DISORIENTATION (Peaks at 4-7 months)

Feelings may include: depression, guilt, disorganization, feeling that grieving is a disease.

Behaviours may include: low compliance with orders of physician, resistance to reaching out or sharing with others, urge to try to live as if nothing has happened, restlessness, irritability.

Comments: It is at this stage that an awareness of reality and it's consequences is very high. A weight loss or gain of more than 10 pounds may occur. The victim must beware of trying to live as if nothing has happened or giving into the urge to flee the setting in which the loss occurred, for these are temporary solutions to a permanent situation.

4.REORGANIZATION (Takes 18-24 months to stabilize after major change)

Feelings may include: sense of release, no longer obsessed by loss, renewed hope and optimism.

Behaviours may include: renewed energy, stable sleeping and eating habits, relief from physical symptoms, better judgment making, increased interest in goals for the future.

Comments: All four phases peak on anniversary days or your "significant" days. We mourn loss, both through death and major joyous changes (graduation, wedding, new job). Depression is nature's way of getting you to simmer down.

There is general agreement among the experts on acute post-loss grief that these phases are not discrete and sequential. They do not follow each other in any prescribed order. They tend, rather, to overlap and to proceed in a jagged pattern of a forward thrust, then retreat to an earlier phase, then a forward movement again. No two people will react alike, and the same person will not react in the same way to every loss. However, each phase must be experienced to a peak of intensity before it can be resolved. Normal grief is healthy and should, under favorable environmental conditions, lead not only to recovery, but also to growth and healthy change. The grieving process can be visualized as a cycle specifically concerned with grieving or loss. This "cycle" generally follows a "crisis" or unexpected event. The following diagrams provide illustrations of the Grief/Loss Process and precipitating Crisis Experience.

ON DEALING WITH A TRAGIC DEATH

The following thoughts on coping are offered by Reverend Kenneth Czillinger of Cincinnati, Ohio, who for the past 10 years has been involved in working with the dying and grieving, and more recently has participated in forming support groups for parents who have lost children through death.

1. Generally it takes 18-24 months just to stabilize after the death of a family member. It can take much longer when the death was a violent one. Recognize the length of mourning process. Beware of developing unreal expectations of yourself.

2. Your worst times usually are not at the moment a tragic event takes place. Then you are in a state of shock or numbness. Often you slide "into the pits" 4-7 months after the event. Strangely, when you're in the pits and tempted to despair, this may be the time when most people expect you to be over your loss.

3. When people ask you how you're doing, don't always say, "Fine." Let some people know how terrible you feel.

4. Talking with a true friend or with others who have been there and survived can be very helpful. Those who have been there speak your language. Only they can really say, "I know; I understand." You are not alone.

5. Often depression is a cover for anger. Learn to uncork your bottle and find appropriate ways to release your bottled-up anger. What you're going through seems so unfair and unjust.

6. Take time to lament, to experience being a victim. It may be necessary to spend some time feeling sorry for yourself. "Pity parties" sometimes are necessary and can be therapeutic.

7. It's all right to cry, to question, to be weak. Beware of allowing yourself to be "put on a pedestal" by others who tell you what an inspiration you are because of your strength and your ability to cope so well. If they only knew!

8. Remember you may be a rookie at the experience you're going through. This is probably the first tragic death you've coped with. You're new at this, and you don't know what to do or how to act. You need help.

9. Reach out and try to help others in some small ways at least. This little step forward may help prevent you from dwelling on yourself.

10. Many times of crisis ultimately can become times of opportunity. Mysteriously your faith in yourself, in others, in God can be deepened through crisis. Seek out persons who can serve as symbols of hope for you.

wah.

I wanted to have auctions up by now, but we kept "squeezing things in" this weekend and I ran out of time. Soon.

I am worried about Sadie. She couldn't get up the stairs this morning she was so weak. I'm taking her to the vet this afternoon to see what's up. Today was her day to take her weekly Lysodren, but I opted to not give it to her until I know why she is so terribly weak. :-(

a photo is worth...

I got home later than usual last night. Yuki expressed his disgust openly...

Even Peanut gave me the evil eye. "And just where have YOU been?"

But Sadie was just happy to see me. When hubby comes in the door, I say "Go get Papa!" and she runs to meet him at the door. That's what she's doing here--with a cat toy in her mouth. It was so slobbery afterward that Peanut tried to cover it up like a pile of litter box poo. Shoo! Sadie seems to be feeling better...we just have to give her Prednisone in conjunction with her weekly dose of Lysodren.


Happy Friday. :-)

YAY!!!!!!

The ban on using federal funds to slaughter horses has been banned for one year thanks to a landslide vote in the House! Since the ban is buried in the appropriations bill, it will have to also be voted on by the Senate to become a permanent. Please see this post for further action...we need your help to make the ban stick for good.

welp, it's Thursday...

Welp, another week gone. Welp, still haven't cleaned the bathrooms. Welp, still haven't cleaned out studio space.

I am going to sell a bunch of my yarn. I love to knit, but I am finding out that I need something more immediate and I have discovered something I love more. I'm not going to sell all of it, but maybe half--mainly because I need the room for my other stuff. I'll announce it here before I put it on Ebay. It's nice stuff, so you knitters be on the lookout.

I did work on the doggie painting last night (from the last post). I can't believe I painted her little back so askew. I'm not terribly good at exact likenesses, but I wasn't too disappointed with the head. It's a pretty sophmoric attempt I suppose, but I'm learning as I go. I think I more enjoy painting and creating from my imagination, but I know I learn a lot when I try to recreate something I see as well. It just doesn't have the little spark of life that the others do. I'm probably technically a rotten painter, but when I paint from the inside-out, something unique happens that is honest and beyond my control. Yeah, whatever.

My car is in the shop today for a tune-up. Of course I get a call and find out I also need brakes. I'm all pissy today and I'm not sure why. I started out the day in a good mood, then I took a u-turn and went down Livid Lane.

Shit bugs me sometimes.

let there be air...

The AC man came, fixed it and saw that it was Good. We slept in chilly bliss last night with the cats strewn about the bed like stuffed animals.

Speaking of animals, here's an attempt to paint a daschund, however, I made horrible perspective errors in the folds of skin behind the head. I will have to fix that awful mistake. I believe this one is 9 x 12 inches. I figured it would not turn out, so I worked on some cheap canvas board. Dummy.

Woof. Have a good day.

p.s. I am going to put some of my paintings up for sale on Ebay this weekend if you are interested. I'll post a notice here.

God's little to-do list...

Well, apparently God caught me being bored or something. Now that it's in the 90's the air decided to go out at the house. Cha-ching.

Poor little kitties. Ain't nothin' worse than wearing a fur coat in the heat and squirrels peeing in the fireplace (yes, Ralphie procreated...a lot). Hot house + squirrel pee and slobber = stinky house. The problem is now: 1) we're afraid we've domesticated them, and 2) they are SO cute that we can't stop feeding them. When they need water or food they pick up the little plastic bowls and bang them against the fireplace screen. No shit. Just like tin cups at the prison. They hide behind the logs while my husband puts out new stuff and come tumbling over the moment the bowls are set in place. If I could tell them apart, I'd name them, but for now, they are all Ralphies.

Please, oh please, let the air be fixed soon.

a cornucopia of bliss and misery...

I hope you all had a good weekend. Mine was alternately horrible and good. The good things were bike riding on nature trails and greenways, hanging out with the hubby, finding out that the treatment worked for Sadie.

The rotten part was going over probate paperwork, weeping at my father's grave and viewing 10,000 sale papers and signs about Father's Day.

I also have been working on a silly little painting on 9 x 12 in. canvas board called "Lydia finally began to see she was becoming a Crazy Cat Lady"...it's not finished...there are lots of corrections and things to do, but I think it's cute so far. I was going to call it "garage cats," but thought better of it.

        

playing with paint...

"Crazy Cat Lady's House at Mealtime"