things heard in our house

When Tom watches the golf channel, he'll shout out random phrases or terms (sort of tourette's like) and if I'm in the other room I'll think he's saying something to me so I'll yell "What?" and he'll yell back "Slippery Slope" and then I realize he's just talking to himself about some stupid hole of golf.

This happens all the time and it's so annoying.

And poor Chum won't leave the comforts of his little hole and from time to time Wrigley will get up and sniff him but in doing so he sticks his big head through the hole. More often than not I have to yell, "Wrigley get your head out of his hole!"

As I'm blogging this right now Tom just announced, "You never leave birdie putts short." Good to know.

And while I'm on the topic of things heard or said in our house I'll share something that will definitely fall into a "TMI" category so consider yourself warned...

When one of us is in the bathroom with the door closed it usually means, STAY AWAY. Well our doors have frosted glass panels so even though you can't see anything, you can still hear noises behind the closed door. So Tom and I like to interpret the sounds we hear if one of us is um, sitting in there...

It goes something like this:

Tom's in the bathroom, I'm washing my face by the sink. *noises noises noises* from inside the bathroom.

me: Tom are you squeezing the last of the shampoo bottle into the toilet?

him: Hahaha very funny.

(then when I'm in there)

him: Laura did you just spray the fire extinguisher into the toilet???

me: (out of breath) No.

him: Then do you NEED a fire extinguisher?

me: (panting) No. I do not.

(and then his turn again, perhaps after dinner at the Indian restaurant)

me: Tom? Are you boiling a pot of chili in there?

him: Yes. You want to taste it?

me: That's really inappropriate.

Oh and another thing I like to do is sing the song "You dropped a Bomb on Me" but I change the lyrics around a bit. Yes, I know we have issues.

He's still watching golf but keeps saying "It's the last hole. Last hole. This is last hole."

Torture.

practical joke & a momism

I'm playing a practical joke on Tom tonight. He gets pissed when we watch Wheel of Fortune because 99.9% of the time I guess the puzzles before he does. So tonight, my mom watched the show on central time and gave me all the answers to the puzzles so when we tune in tonight I'm going to shout out the answers to the puzzles before any letters are up. I hope I can pull it off through the whole show. He's going to get soooo mad because FOR YEARS he has wanted me to try out for that show and even signed me up for a wheel ID and during the commercial breaks when they announce the Wheel ID winner he always asks, "Is that your number? Go check. Go now!" and I say "No my number is ..." and I rattle off some nonsense numbers and letters and then he usually tells me to "Go pound sand" and then I laugh and continue to kick his butt for the rest of the show. It makes him so angry so this will be really good.

My mom also gave me the answers to Jeopardy so if I can pull off Wheel with success I may keep the winning streak going and shout out every single answer, or question, rather to that too. If I end up missing tomorrow, you'll know why.

Oh and it's been a while since I've blogged about any momisms so here's a quick one from today. This morning she called and said, "Oh that actress you like was on Regis and Kelly this morning. Molly Google- Goog- Googlehallen."

"Um, mom? Do you mean Maggie Gyllenhall?"

"Yes! Maggie! Maggie Googlehall."

One day I will be just like her. And when that happens I will no longer blog.

Open or closed?

We only had 2 students in class today, Betty, the fiery 89 year old poet, and Rose. Betty's homework assignment was to write a letter to her father. She didn't have a very strong relationship with him while he was living so she wanted to share her feelings about him in a letter and have something to pass onto her grandchildren and great grandchildren who don't know much about him. Betty read her letter aloud and got a little choked up at the end.

The last few sentences were about how she was there with him, holding his hand when he died. She described how he looked, his mouth and eyes wide open when it happened.

Rose then said, "My Dad died with his eyes closed."

Not wanting to be left out of the fun I chimed in, "My Dad died with his eyes open."

And one by one we detailed the moments when our Dads died and how they looked (in probably a bit too much detail) but none of us seemed upset, it was actually an upbeat, light hearted conversation considering the topic. Then Rose said, "I wasn't in the room when my Dad died. The nurse was and she came out and told me he died. I wonder if he died with his eyes open and they closed them?" Betty told her that usually they do that, it makes them appear more at peace.

So the three of us bonded over the similarities in our fathers' passing. Perhaps a bit morbid to some, but still a connection was made none the less.

watching Jeopardy

You know how they interview the contestants and have them say something extraordinary about themselves? Well on tonight's show they got to Ben, and the story he chose to share on national television was that he stepped on a sharp pretzel when he was 14 years old and still has a scar on his foot.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that Ben is single.

I don't...

have any respect for people who guilt other people into doing things for them or their agenda. None whatsoever. Nor do I have the energy to put forth effort towards building or maintaining relationships with these people.

They zap all the enjoyment out of genuine, unconditional relationships. They are suckers of all things good and I can sniff them out, even from miles and miles away. A lollipop should be named in their honor because they suck so much.

Chumley videos

I just found some old Chum videos from last year that I never posted.

His obsession with tape:




He also likes to stand on my computer and make that annoying BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM sound:




And, he also likes to hit things:



I want my old Chumley back soon!

Chum, Tom's Dad and Rose

We had the mobile vet come back Monday night cuz Chum was going downhill. She gave him 2 powerful antibiotic injections and more fluids. Yesterday morning he actually came out of his little hole that he sleeps in and walked into the kitchen. I fed him some baby food (as suggested by the vet) and he ate several bites. He seemed better yesterday morning but then seemed weaker in the afternoon and evening. We've been giving him oral antibiotics and since he's able to eat something, he's been able to keep them down. He hasn't had any water but the baby food I'm feeding him is just veal/chicken and water so hopefully that is giving him enough hydration. We have tried to give him IV fluids but he gets soooo worked up and in his rage he bit Tom pretty bad. The vet offered to leave her Hannibal Lechter mask with us, but Tom said it wasn't necessary and said she might need it for other cats but she said we need it more than she does but he still didn't want to take it. So now I'm going to try and find one so I can continue to give him fluids without losing a finger or two.

Tom's Dad has been moved out of ICU and he was supposed to be evaluated for hospital rehab earlier this week but the doctors haven't made a final decision just yet. If he doesn't get admitted to hospital rehab the other option is a nursing home which his Dad has said he will refuse. So now we're just waiting to hear what the hospital will decide and go from there.

And since I've not been sleeping much due to worrying about the above, I've now got a nasty, drippy head cold. I'm not going to the senior center until Friday (hopefully am better by then) because I promised Rose I would help her with some things after class. I'm not really sure what's going to happen but I've sort of taken on the role of a therapist which worries me because I don't have the answers for her. She is starting to open up a lot more and that is good but at the same time I don't want her to wonder why I'm not offering her a place to stay. The activities director as well as others have adamantly insisted I do not go there. And I won't because I'm aware of the risks and I'm also aware that offering her a place to stay is not going to solve the problem. She doesn't have any friends, she really never has (I'll get into that later) nor does she have family here but she did mention she used to be very close with neighbors who moved to the midwest. She has their address and we are going to write them a letter and give them my cell number to call so we can inform them of her situation. Not sure what they may offer in way of help or insight but it's worth a try. She was also dropped from AARP membership which she said was the result of a misunderstanding so we are going to try and work on getting that reinstated and see if they can provide any benefits that may help.

And it's frustrating to try and teach class knowing Rose's situation but it's unfair to the other seniors who are trying to learn and sharpen their skills. Just really changes the dynamic in class and my approach to the whole thing. Can't really use words like "homework" or "before you go to bed at night, write in your thankful journal" etc. etc. etc. I feel like I'm slighting the other students and part of me just wants to say F it and not continue. Now my head hurts.

Chum's status

The mobile vet came to the house yesterday afternoon. She took blood samples and tried to get a urine sample but his bladder was empty. She will know the blood results later tonight, hopefully. In the meantime she told us to try and get a urine sample and then within 24 hours take it to one of the two veterinary hospitals she's affiliated with. Both are over 10 miles away, which doesn't seem that far but I'd have to drive thru city traffic to get to either one. I am willing to do that but since the urine sample is time sensitive (and I'll probably be doing this more than once) I wanted to see if I could just take it to Wrigley's vet, just a couple miles up the road. The mobile vet said for me to call them first thing in the morning and see if they'd be willing to do that.

The vet left us some pellets that you put into the litter box (without any litter) and they will help keep the urine fresh for 24 hours. I didn't think that was going to work for Chum so instead we put a bunch of plastic on top of Chum's existing box and moved the box off the couch because Chum is not able to jump up, and put it on the floor in the living room. Tom picked him up and placed him in the box and shockingly, he peed on top of the plastic. I was able to syringe the urine (which was a dark brown color) and then place it in the fridge overnight.

This morning instead of calling Wrig's vet I decided to go there in person and ask them if they would be willing to test the urine as well as provide the prescriptions our mobile vet wrote for Chumley. They told me there was no problem testing the urine but that one of their doctors would need to examine Chumley before they would provide any medications. It's amazing when you string words together like "feral", "extremely aggressive" and "has bitten vets and vet techs pretty bad in the past" will do to change one's mind. The assistant said she would confirm with the doctor if they could make an exception in this case. Within a minute she returned to the desk and said I could come by later in the afternoon to pick up his results as well as the 3 prescriptions I needed.

So now, we just wait. And Chum is not improving at all. He hasn't eaten since Saturday morning. We successfully gave him IV fluids last night and tried again this morning but the needle kept going through his skin and squirting out the other side. He has had some licks of water off my finger as well as some licks of chicken broth, only off my finger, he won't lick anything from the bowl. I think the smell may be too strong for him.

Then this morning I tried a little bit of yogurt and he did take a few licks of that as well, maybe about a teaspoonful before he had enough. I pureed broccoli, carrots and potatoes and tried to give him some of that but he didn't want it. I mixed the puree in with a little bit of yogurt and he barely lifted his head up to sniff and then went back to sleep. Last night I poured some chicken broth into popsicle molds which Chumley used to go INSANE over, and when I held that up to him he just stared off into space.

I am grateful for the flexibility I have to be able to stay home and be here with him. And I am thankful that right now, we are able to pay these vet bills, especially since we're now working with 2 vets.

Chum's inside his fuzzy little hole, sleeping. From time to time his breathing appears more labored and the vet said that is concerning. I'd be lying if I didn't say I keep checking inside his hole, every 15 minutes or so, to make sure he's still breathing.

I'll update more as we go along.

updates

Tom's Dad is still in ICU but the good news is he is stable. He had bleeding on his brain and that is now under control but they are keeping him in ICU probably another couple of days. The stroke was on the right side of his brain so the left side of his body is affected. Speech, movement, all of that. We are waiting to hear if he will be a candidate for hospital rehabilitation which is the best option because the alternative is a nursing facility which does not seem to make his Dad very happy.

And since yesterday morning, Chumley has been sick. Almost one year ago today this similar thing happened. (Sick Chumley) He won't eat or drink and he can barely walk. He has spent most of today under the bed lying in what looks to be an uncomfortable position. He cries like he's in pain when anyone tries to come near him or even talk to him. When this happened last year it happened in the early morning and lasted until the afternoon. He has been this way since yesterday morning and is showing no improvement. The vet will be here shortly. Thankfully she makes housecalls, even on Sundays.

So again, here I am asking for more healing thoughts and prayers for both Tom's Dad and our sweet Chum. I'm starting to feel greedy asking for so many prayers lately but I feel so helpless in both situations and don't know what else to do.

Tell your Dads (and Moms) how much you love them today. For no special reason at all. And maybe surprise your kitty (or dog) with a special treat and lots of extras rubs too. They deserve it.

more prayers

I wanted to write about Rose and give you all an update but am preoccupied with something else. Tom's father was taken to the hospital this morning, it is believed he may have had a stroke. We are still waiting for more information. Please keep him, as well as Tom in your prayers. It's difficult when you live so far away and all you do is sit and wait. I should be used to this by now but it still doesn't make it any easier.

At some point I'll be back on here with more updates. And when I'm able to concentrate I'll share today's encounter with Rose.

I hope you all have a safe and peaceful weekend.

not sure what to do...

I've been teaching a creative writing class at the Senior Center. It's been a welcome break from the computer classes, there are no technical frustrations or unexplained error messages since we're doing this the old fashioned way, just pens and a journal. I adore my students, have really bonded with two of them, and then there were 2 others who I just couldn't connect with. On the first day of class one of the students just sat back and heckled me the whole time. I tried to include her heckles as suggestions but it became really difficult after a while, especially when she told me that what I'm teaching is witch craft. I have NO idea what gave her that impression but when she starting mumbling details about being burned at the stake I thought it better to ignore her heckles from that point on. At the end of class she informed me she would not be coming back because "I never once mentioned Shakespeare!" but she may pop in from time to time to observe. Just what I want.

Then there was another woman who did not speak for the entire hour and a half and and sat expressionless, staring straight at the wall, not making eye contact with anyone. I tried to draw her out but thought that was making her uncomfortable so from time to time I would focus on her while talking, hoping to make some sort of connection, but it just wasn't happening. About mid way through class she reached in her pocket and unwrapped a sandwich and just sat there taking small bite after small bite, staring off into space.

The following week the heckler did not return, (praise the Lord) but the woman who never spoke (I'll refer to her as "Rose") did. Before class started while I was getting set up and organized, Rose rattled off everything I had mentioned from the previous week, starting with the first exercise all the way down to the homework. I told her I was impressed because I didn't see her write anything down, in fact, she never even opened up her notebook. She told me she just remembers things, it was as simple as that. I asked if she would be up to participating more in today's class because she had a lot to offer. She seemed to be embarrassed by that remark, but smiled and said quietly, "I'll try."

Just before I was about to start class the Activities Director came in and said we have a new student starting, she's on her way in and her name is Betty. I FROZE because our next door neighbor's name is Betty, she's 93 years old and we have NEVER gotten along. (until the other day, but now that's another story entirely). Regardless, I was pleased to see it was not our neighbor Betty who waltzed into class and took her seat, next to Rose.

We started out with the New Yorker Caption Contest, everyone has to come up with a caption for the weekly cartoon, which I then submit on behalf of the students. We did some more picture captions from magazine cutouts as well as turning the pictures into News Headlines, then coming up with a short story about each one. These are just some exercises to spark imagination.

After that I asked the students when they went home, to find one of their favorite photos and study it, then write a story about what was happening in that photo. They could make the story fiction, or it could be an actual account of the events leading up to the snapping of the picture. It was their choice. Then, I asked that they bring in the photo so I could make copies of it, and include in their journal along with their story.

Rose's expression start to change, and she looked away from the class, again staring off into space. I asked if everything was ok and she nodded her head yes without making a sound.

Since this was Valentine's day weekend, I brought in some fun craft supplies and cards and asked if the class would like to make a Valentine card for someone special. Since many of the seniors are widowed, I stressed the point that this does not have to be a romantic card, it could be given to a grandchild, a friend who you've lost touch with, or even your next door neighbor. I passed out the cards and supplies and again noticed Rose turn away uncomfortably in her seat.

Then, I saw tears start to fall down her cheek.

Again, I asked if everything was ok.

She answered without lifting her head, "What if you don't have any friends?"

I told her that's ok, and asked if she had any family?

She said that no, they were all dead.

I felt my stomach start to churn.

Then I said, "You know what you can do? How about you write a letter to your mail carrier? You can leave it in your mailbox so when they deliver the mail, they have a nice surprise just for them! They probably never receive a Valentine card from anyone so how about we all do that and let them know how much we appreciate them and their hard work!" I felt pleased with this response because EVERYONE has a mail carrier so she at least would be able to participate in this exercise and feel good about spreading joy to our neglected carriers.

I was NOT prepared for what I heard next.

"I don't have a mail man...because...I don't have a home. I've been living on the streets for the last six months."

And that's when it took every single fiber of my being to not burst into tears right there on the spot.

Rose then went on to explain that her parents had died (her mother 10 years ago and her father, less than 2 years ago) and she was living in their house but ran out of money. She did everything she could to try to save the house but unfortunately, the bank won. She went to a shelter for a while and said she wouldn't wish that on her worst enemy. She said people were violent, angry and a lot of them just wanted drugs or alcohol. Rose wants a job. She broke down in tears and said that she used to have a nice home, and nice things and took care of them and now, has nothing. One of the students, who is hard of hearing said, "Can we please get on with class???"

I looked at her like, "Did you NOT just hear this woman's story?" and then realized she probably didn't because Rose was speaking barely above a whisper.

I told Rose that we would continue our conversation after class and went onto something lighter.

Inside the folder of crafty things, I had a bunch of animal pictures so I spread them out and had the students write a poem about an animal of their choice.

Rose chose a photograph of a cat.

She scribbled down some words while tears streamed down her cheek. Again, my stomach was churning, this time audibly and I felt like I was going to throw up or crap my pants right there in my seat. I begged God to make it stop, make it go away until I was back at home. And then I thought about Rose not having a home. And it got worse. I took some sips of my Diet Pepsi and started to breathe deeply. Rose said, "I used to drink Diet Cokes all the time." I made a mental note to buy Diet Coke and bring them to her next class.

The students finished their poems, which were read aloud in class. Rose's poem finally brought my tears to the surface, the ones I was trying so hard to fight back. I told her it was from the Pepsi, it makes my eyes water but I could tell she knew better.

As we started packing up our things, Rose was still holding the picture of the cat, her poem's inspiration, and was just staring at it. I asked if she liked that cat in the photo. She said that yes she did - he was very sweet. I told her, "Then you keep it." She looked up at me in surprise and said, "No! It's yours!" I said that I have plenty of pictures of cats and I would like her to have it, especially since it inspired her to write such a beautiful poem. You would have thought I just handed her $10,000. She thanked me at least 3 times and carefully folded up the picture and placed it into her pocket.

When class ended, I went upstairs to see "C" the Activities Director and broke down. She said she had no idea that Rose was homeless but then she said it all started to make sense based on her comings and goings. Rose had been coming to the center for about 6 months but never told anyone her situation, until now. She said they brought in a guidance counselor a few weeks ago but Rose was not very receptive and told her she didn't need any help. C and I decided to stay in close contact and she asked if I could find out more information in next week's class. I told her I would do whatever I could to help. When I left her office, there was Rose standing by the elevators. I was hoping that she didn't hear our conversation because I didn't want her to lose my trust. I asked her if she would like to grab lunch (the lunch at the center is soooo cheap and good too) but she declined. We talked for a bit and I realized that Rose is very proud and does not want pity or a hand out from anyone. She is a perfectionist and wants to work. She is not afraid of hard work and when she tried to go through "the system" she said finding work is not even an option when you don't have a home. She said in order to get any sort of help from the state, she needs to prove she is mentally incapable which she is not. She said she always "falls through the cracks" because she does not want a hand out, she wants a job. She went on to tell me the things that she is capable of doing and the places she has tried to find work since living on the streets but it's impossible for people to see beyond the physical. No one takes the time to see her as a hard working older human being. This is where it really hit me, hard. I guess most people want to assume that those who live their lives on the streets, ask for it. They are drug addicts, they are "crazy people", not people like you or me. No, that would be too hard to swallow. But here is a woman, an older woman, who is mentally stable, who should be searching for places warm and sunny to retire, instead of trying to find hard work.

It just doesn't make sense.

So, what do you do?

I will see Rose at class again on Friday. She pretty much hangs out at the Senior Center every day from 10am to 7pm but after that, no one knows where she goes. When I go to bed at night, in my warm bed, swaddled up in my several hundred thread count sheets I can't stop thinking about where Rose might be.

And that, breaks my heart.

Praying for strength for Friday. And any suggestions anyone may have.

Prawns

Tom says when I get mad, my voice sounds like a Prawn from the movie District 9. I don't agree with that.



He also says my burps sound like them.

Now this, is somewhat accurate.

Valentine's Day at the Senior Center

In honor of Valentine's Day, I'm wearing a festive heart shirt today. A man, probably in his mid to late 80's at senior center said he liked it.

I responded with:

"Thanks! Everyone should have a heart on today!"

Yep, it's only a matter of time before I'm fired.

On a separate note, I just jumped on the Twilight bandwagon. Didn't know what to think of all this hype so I figured I'd give the first book a try and so far, it's holding my attention. I'm about half way through and without a doubt, I'm totally Team Edward. And I also realize that by typing this out right now, I'm totally A Big F*cking Loser.

Anyway, Happy VD!!!

it's a small small world

I ran into a friend of mine I haven't seen in quite some time. And not so sure I will keep that friend status after our exchange:

friend:
Oh my God. What are you doing here?

me:
I live here now.

friend:
Really? Since when?

me:
About a year and a half now.

friend:
Wow, I never would have pegged you for a Northwest kind of gal.

me:
Yeah, not sure that title fits.

friend:
But, you look great.

me:
Thank you.

(studies me for a bit)
friend:
What happened here? (pointing to the side of my face)

me:
What? Where?

friend:
Right here, you have some mark on your face. Is it a burn?

me:
Oh that? No. It's just a sun spot. It came out like a year after living in Southern Cal.

friend:
So you just keep it there?

me:
Well I had it lasered but every time the sun comes out it sort of reappears again. It's just a pigmentation thing. Not a big deal.

friend:
Really? I'm surprised you wouldn't be more self conscious about it.

me:
Why? Should I be???

friend:
Well I'm just saying. I mean, your face is like a canvas, like a piece of art. And if you have a flaw on it you'd want to take care of that, you know?

me:
I guess I never thought of it that way.

friend:
It's like a car. You drive a nice, shiny, spotless car. All of the sudden, it gets rear ended. Do you just live with the bumper smashed in? Or do you take it to the shop and get it fixed??

me:
So you're comparing my face to a smashed in bumper???

friend:
NO!! It's an analogy, you know what I mean. I'm just saying, something without flaws should be kept that way.

me:
I'll keep that in mind.

friend:
I really didn't mean to offend you.

me:
No offense taken.

friend:
You have my number still? Stay in touch?

me:
Sure. I'll call you when I get my spot removed, you know, so I don't embarrass you in public.

friend:
You know that's not what I meant.

me:
Of course not.

friend:
So you'll stay in touch?

me:
(about to burst into laughter)
Probably not.

friend:
Seriously? You're being so sensitive.

me:
No. Just honest.

CAN WE SAY LIBERATING!?!?!?!

can't believe I'm posting this one

A couple of weeks ago, I had a life changing experience. I'm not ready to publicly blog about it and may never be. That being said, this experience has changed my perspective on life and if anything, it's made me bolder and more honest and these traits are not always welcomed by everyone. And I'm ok with that. If some of my relationships change as a result of how I want/need to live my life then I'm ok with that too. You can't please everyone and why is it we always feel a need to apologize to people for who we are if it's not who others want us to be??? I could write a 20 page dissertation on this alone but that's not what this post is about. No, this post is about one of the most mortifying experiences I have ever had that happened about a month and a half ago. I was too embarrassed to share it then, but based on my new found perspective, I can't waste time worrying about what others might think, plus everyone loves a gross out story, right? But if you are turned off or disgusted and never want to read my blog again, well then that's your choice to make. Normally I would say, "I'm sorry to have offended you" but I'm not sorry for who I am and what life has dealt me.

So here goes...

I wanted to surprise Tom with a bathroom remodel for his birthday. I called the contractor who initially did some work on our house before we moved in to come over and give me a quote on ripping out cabinets, dry walling, tiling and painting. I was so excited because I wanted to have this project completed while Tom was out of town so when he returned from his trip the bathroom would be finished and he would be sooo surprised! I envisioned us frolicking like children in our sparkly new bathroom and him being so proud of my Extreme Home Makeover accomplishments.

So the contractor came out on a Monday, of course it was raining and when he came to the door I walked him up to the bathroom and told him about my grand master plan. The most challenging part of the project was time frames, the whole thing had to be completed in 3 days which as you know, dealing with contractors is a very tall order. But he assured me it could be done and I was soooo happy and practically skipped down the stairs as I showed him to the door. He told me he would send me a quote later that afternoon. We bid our farewells on the front porch, he got into his truck and off he went, down our driveway.

It was garbage day and I noticed some papers and things in the driveway, that must have spilled out from the can. I went back inside to put on a coat, gloves and some boots, and then went back out to collect the spilled trash. Only it wasn't just your everyday trash. It was the bag that was in my bathroom the past week, that had been chewed open by a raccoon or some other rodent and the contents of the bag were ALL OVER MY DRIVEWAY. Did I mention it was that time of the month???

The side of my driveway, all the way up to the front porch was completely littered with tampons, tampon applicators and maxi pads. Many of the pads had been opened and were stuck to the driveway. And apparently the rain caused the pads to react like a sponge so they grew in size with their contents dripping down the driveway. Our contractor literally had to step OVER bloodied pads and tampons to get to our front door. I practically fell to my knees in shock. I frantically started to pick it all up like it was some sort of psychotic easter egg hunt when a friend of mine pulled up in our driveway. She said, "What are you doing out here in the rain?" And when I told her what had happened she tried to be consoling and comforting but then her face cracked and she couldn't contain her laughter. I told her I'm canceling the job, as much as I wanted this to be Tom's gift, I just could NOT face the contractor again. For all I know he still may have a pad stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

I ended up canceling the job later that night (via email because I couldn't stand to talk to the contractor "live") and I continue to pray to God that I never run into him again. As for the bathroom, I've decided to tackle this project on my own. (Tom doesn't know that yet but he will when he returns from his trip to find the bathroom in shambles).

Chum is mad

He's on the war path today. It's scary living in a house with a cat that gets so angry. He peed on my scarf, and sprayed my laundry basket of clothes. We were out of town for almost 2 weeks and this is what happens upon our return. He also slapped a sleeping Wrigs on the face as he walked by. He's soooo mad at us, the dog, some pillows, just the world in general. I feel bad that he gets so worked up because we left but really, we're home now, all is good, why can't he just accept it?? And it pisses me off that he only pees on MY stuff. I'm not saying I WANT him to pee on Tom's stuff but why am I always the one to get the backlash of his anger??? I'm the one who worries about him non stop, leaving sticky notes in every nook and cranny of the house for our pet sitter to make sure he is safe and comfortable but yet, I get the shaft.

Speaking of shaft, about 2 months ago Chum had a little incident. I didn't mention it on here because I was really worried about him but now that he's ok I'll type away. He has been on his bear A LOT lately and one night after a love fest I noticed Chum was walking funny, like he had a rod up his ass or something. When I tried to see what was wrong he growled and slapped me. And anytime Tom or I would walk by he would growl and hiss, he was really upset. The next morning he was still walking funny and then he laid down and stuck his leg up in the air and I noticed his peep was sticking out. This is not unusual after he's on his bear but he hadn't been on his bear, he was just laying down. And he was still walking funny and VERY upset. A couple hours later I noticed him trying to lay down and he was having a hard time moving and when he finally settled, up went his leg again and there was his peep, bright and red. And he also stopped peeing in the litter box, he would pee on the couch (still covered in a shower curtain) but right next to the litter box. I think I mentioned we have a litter box on top of the couch. Anyway, I called the vet and explained that I think his peep was somehow stuck and she called in a prescription for him and within the first dose he was better. He was on medication for a month and all seems ok in that department now, but he's on that damn bear soooo much that I'm afraid it's going to happen again. I have to make sure the part of the bear that he humps (which is usually the rump, right under the tail) is clean so he doesn't get an infection or anything. Too bad they don't make kitty condoms. It's like preventing an STD.

I never thought I'd have to worry about this with a CAT.

It's funny, sometimes, I can actually feel my hairs turning gray. No kidding.

Tennis Ball Stand Off

Chum biting Wrig's paw

A hiss from Chum

Wrigs trying to grab with his mouth

Another hiss from Chum (and Wrigs too?)

A slap swat to Wrig's paw

Then a stare down

Still staring...

Wrigs takes the prize.