...and I went tubing today!
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
A Mother Knows...
So on Sunday night, I had this dream that Max, my beautiful 4 year old cat, died! My memory is fuzzy on "how", but I vividly recall holding his (soft, furry,) dead body. I woke up at 4AM and called for him so I could ensure this event had in fact only occurred in my slumbering visions. He came, we cuddled, all was well.
Then on Monday night I start wrapping up my evening around 10:30. As usual, I call for Max to inform him that it's time for bed. Only he doesn't come. I assume he's been accidentally shut in a closet so I start to search for him. I open all the doors I remembered opening, then I open every cabinet and door in the house. No signs of Max. I occasionally hear a jingle (of a collar)and my heart skips a beat until I realize that it's only Lucy. I start to think about when I saw him last...I remembered him cuddling with me and Lucy on the couch after supper, I recalled petting him after cleaning the pool filter thingee, but I didn't remember seeing him after I took out the trash. Oh no! He must be outside. So I send out the search party. (Okay, so really I just went out alone with a flashlight.) I am shining the light in the bushes looking for an signs of movement, when I start to feel raindrops. The drops quickly turn to rain and I start to panic. I walk back inside to perform yet another walk through. Nothing. I call his name and whistle-nothing. So I do the only thing I can think to do....I get in my car and slowly scour the neighborhood, looking for a black cat. I've lost my mind and my neighbors are wondering what I am doing at this point. Aware of Max's disappearance for an hour now, I return home dejected. I enter the house in tears, unsure of what I can do. Logic tells me everything is fine: he has a collar, he is microchipped, lots of cats live outside, there are no wild animals here, rain is just water, someone will find him, someone will call, I can go to bed. My heart tells me something is wrong: Max doesn't go outside, Max comes when he is called, Max is not vaccinated, Max is not a normal cat, Max has anaphalactic allergies, I HAD A DREAM. (I know you think I'm crazy, but lots of my dreams are prophetic.) Anyway...feeling helpless, I walk into my kitchen and see the most beautiful sight in the world. Max is on my kitchen counter. Normally, I would clap my hands loudly and yell at him to get down, instead I picked him up and held him for a few minutes telling him, "Never do that again; Mommy was so scared. Why didn't you come?"
Tuesday he hid from me most of the evening. He got up on a shelf in a corner behind one of my framed pictures. When he got up he knocked over my photograph and I yelled at him. He got down and hid for the rest of the evening. I was feeling frustrated because his personality seemed to be changing. He has always been a momma's boy. He rarely leaves my side and has always been very obedient. Assuming he was mad about Lucy, I just hoped that he would get used to the idea and start cuddling again soon.
Wednesday morning I wake up sad, because it was the 2nd night Max hadn't slept with me. I found him in the closet up on a shelf. He was smacking his mouth a little and I noticed his fur was a bit sticky, but he purred when I pet him, so I shrugged it off assuming he had gotten into something sticky. I told a few friends at work that I just felt like something was wrong. I told them he wasn't being himself. That and the dream were still really worrying me, but you can't take a cat to the vet with these complaints. So I thought "I must be neurotic".
Wednesday afternoon he's being his what has become normal self and hiding. But before I go running at 7:30 I decide to search for him. I find him under my bed COVERED in drool. I put him in the sink to look in his mouth. He won't let me, and he stays there for several hours. I know realize he is not eating, drinking, or using his litter box. After my run, I goggle "cats drooling". This search further supports my speculation that he has an infection in his mouth. I spend the evening petting him and trying to get him to drink water (to no avail). Then fall into a restless sleep.
Thursday morning I get up and get ready very early and wait around until the vet opens. I call them at exactly 7:01 and they say I can bring him at 8. He doesn't even fight me as I put him in the carrier! I get there at 7:45 and leave him in there care while I go to work. The phone calls confirm the diagnosis of oral infection. They start him on an IV and antibiotics and do blood work to search for a cause to this aggressive illness. They put him under to perform surgery. They extracted 4 teeth and found ulcers in his mouth. Poor baby! The veterinarian thinks that he caught calcinivirus from Lucy, and became sick very quickly because of his compromised immune system. I picked him up at the end of the day and he looked pitiful!
He's doing better now, but definitely still getting his strength back. He still has a runny nose and eyes. And he's losing fur above his eyes. And his mouth is oozing. Poor guy. But he is purring...so I know he's feeling better. Plus he's not hiding from me (only Lucy!). :)
But seriously a mother knows. While I'm definitely sad that he is/was sick, I'm very glad that:
1) I'm not crazy (there was something wrong!)
2) His personality isn't changing. He is still my sweet, obedient Maxwell Milton.
Pray for him to get better. Max is my best friend. He's the only ones who has made it through 3 states with me and always been there for me. I know it sounds crazy, but he really is my closest confident. I tell him everything and he always listens. :) I don't know what I'd do if I lost him. So pray. Pray that he can fight this infection and pray that he doesn't get another one. My dream cannot come true.
Then on Monday night I start wrapping up my evening around 10:30. As usual, I call for Max to inform him that it's time for bed. Only he doesn't come. I assume he's been accidentally shut in a closet so I start to search for him. I open all the doors I remembered opening, then I open every cabinet and door in the house. No signs of Max. I occasionally hear a jingle (of a collar)and my heart skips a beat until I realize that it's only Lucy. I start to think about when I saw him last...I remembered him cuddling with me and Lucy on the couch after supper, I recalled petting him after cleaning the pool filter thingee, but I didn't remember seeing him after I took out the trash. Oh no! He must be outside. So I send out the search party. (Okay, so really I just went out alone with a flashlight.) I am shining the light in the bushes looking for an signs of movement, when I start to feel raindrops. The drops quickly turn to rain and I start to panic. I walk back inside to perform yet another walk through. Nothing. I call his name and whistle-nothing. So I do the only thing I can think to do....I get in my car and slowly scour the neighborhood, looking for a black cat. I've lost my mind and my neighbors are wondering what I am doing at this point. Aware of Max's disappearance for an hour now, I return home dejected. I enter the house in tears, unsure of what I can do. Logic tells me everything is fine: he has a collar, he is microchipped, lots of cats live outside, there are no wild animals here, rain is just water, someone will find him, someone will call, I can go to bed. My heart tells me something is wrong: Max doesn't go outside, Max comes when he is called, Max is not vaccinated, Max is not a normal cat, Max has anaphalactic allergies, I HAD A DREAM. (I know you think I'm crazy, but lots of my dreams are prophetic.) Anyway...feeling helpless, I walk into my kitchen and see the most beautiful sight in the world. Max is on my kitchen counter. Normally, I would clap my hands loudly and yell at him to get down, instead I picked him up and held him for a few minutes telling him, "Never do that again; Mommy was so scared. Why didn't you come?"
Tuesday he hid from me most of the evening. He got up on a shelf in a corner behind one of my framed pictures. When he got up he knocked over my photograph and I yelled at him. He got down and hid for the rest of the evening. I was feeling frustrated because his personality seemed to be changing. He has always been a momma's boy. He rarely leaves my side and has always been very obedient. Assuming he was mad about Lucy, I just hoped that he would get used to the idea and start cuddling again soon.
Wednesday morning I wake up sad, because it was the 2nd night Max hadn't slept with me. I found him in the closet up on a shelf. He was smacking his mouth a little and I noticed his fur was a bit sticky, but he purred when I pet him, so I shrugged it off assuming he had gotten into something sticky. I told a few friends at work that I just felt like something was wrong. I told them he wasn't being himself. That and the dream were still really worrying me, but you can't take a cat to the vet with these complaints. So I thought "I must be neurotic".
Wednesday afternoon he's being his what has become normal self and hiding. But before I go running at 7:30 I decide to search for him. I find him under my bed COVERED in drool. I put him in the sink to look in his mouth. He won't let me, and he stays there for several hours. I know realize he is not eating, drinking, or using his litter box. After my run, I goggle "cats drooling". This search further supports my speculation that he has an infection in his mouth. I spend the evening petting him and trying to get him to drink water (to no avail). Then fall into a restless sleep.
Thursday morning I get up and get ready very early and wait around until the vet opens. I call them at exactly 7:01 and they say I can bring him at 8. He doesn't even fight me as I put him in the carrier! I get there at 7:45 and leave him in there care while I go to work. The phone calls confirm the diagnosis of oral infection. They start him on an IV and antibiotics and do blood work to search for a cause to this aggressive illness. They put him under to perform surgery. They extracted 4 teeth and found ulcers in his mouth. Poor baby! The veterinarian thinks that he caught calcinivirus from Lucy, and became sick very quickly because of his compromised immune system. I picked him up at the end of the day and he looked pitiful!
He's doing better now, but definitely still getting his strength back. He still has a runny nose and eyes. And he's losing fur above his eyes. And his mouth is oozing. Poor guy. But he is purring...so I know he's feeling better. Plus he's not hiding from me (only Lucy!). :)
But seriously a mother knows. While I'm definitely sad that he is/was sick, I'm very glad that:
1) I'm not crazy (there was something wrong!)
2) His personality isn't changing. He is still my sweet, obedient Maxwell Milton.
Pray for him to get better. Max is my best friend. He's the only ones who has made it through 3 states with me and always been there for me. I know it sounds crazy, but he really is my closest confident. I tell him everything and he always listens. :) I don't know what I'd do if I lost him. So pray. Pray that he can fight this infection and pray that he doesn't get another one. My dream cannot come true.
If you were me....?
This story starts in June when I went to Jacksonville and ended up interviewing with FSDB. It was the end of several weeks of traveling and my back was killing me. When mom and I got to the airport we found a spa. We had 30 minutes so we both got chair massages. (I have to tell you that I was never a massage person until a french canadian man decided to plow his delivery truck into my car, leaving me with incessant neck and back pain).
Anyway, when we got to our terminal we discovered that our flight was delayed. What else is there to do in a small airport? So we went back for more! When we returned we were informed they had rooms in the back where we could get real massages. Mom was paying, so of course I indulged. And I got one of the best massages I've ever had! The girl's name was Nicole and she was great.
When mom and Doug helped me move down here they flew home and made a visit to the spa on their way out. Mom got Nicole's number because she does in home massages. This was great news for me, because if I'm going to train for this 1/2 marathon I'm going to need to have massage therapy.
So a few weeks ago, I was flying home for the weekend and stopped by the spa. I was happy to see Nicole was there and decided to get a 20 minute chair massage. So I'm sitting there, trying to relax and enjoy this moment. Suddenly, I start to feel like I'm going to puke...I think "this is not going to be a comfortable massage, but I'll be okay"....I'm trying to convince myself this is true, because of course I don't want to tell the lady I suddenly feel as though I will vomit. And I don't even understand why this is happening.
Then I start feeling really hot and realize that I'm not going to be able to make it through the massage...so I sit up and say, "You're not hurting me, but I feel really nauseous all of a sudden." As she's saying, "Are you okay...should I get a trash can?", I realize I can't see. So I say, "I don't know I feel like I might pass out, maybe I should drink some water."
And then without any further warning. I just completely pass out. When I "wake up" she helps me walk to a back room (because let's face it...this is really bad for business). As I'm walking my vision is still tunneled and very fuzzy, but I know I'm walking past several workers and customers so I'm trying to get it together. My memory of this part isn't quite as vivid, but I'm positive that I was gagging and making "I'm gonna puke" faces as I tried not to actually vomit. She leaves me on a massage table in a back room and I drink some water while she goes to (I assume) talk with her co-workers about the crazy passing out redhead.
She rejoins me in the room as I lay in the dark, attempting to fully return to reality. After a while I feel fine and we re-enter the front of the spa. Everyone is staring at me asking, "Are you ok?", "Do you have low blood pressure?" "Have you eaten today?"I quickly pay (leaving a generous tip) and repeatedly apologize explaining, "I have no idea...this doesn't normally happen." And seriously this is very true. I was not sick, I had eaten, I am clueless as to the cause of this embarrassing moment.
On my return trip I practically ran past the store! But I definitely saw her, and I'm pretty sure she saw me. My plan was to call her and have her come to my house, but now....? So my question is..."If you were me...would you ever face Nicole again?" ('Cause her massages are quite helpful to my french canadian man induced pain.)
Anyway, when we got to our terminal we discovered that our flight was delayed. What else is there to do in a small airport? So we went back for more! When we returned we were informed they had rooms in the back where we could get real massages. Mom was paying, so of course I indulged. And I got one of the best massages I've ever had! The girl's name was Nicole and she was great.
When mom and Doug helped me move down here they flew home and made a visit to the spa on their way out. Mom got Nicole's number because she does in home massages. This was great news for me, because if I'm going to train for this 1/2 marathon I'm going to need to have massage therapy.
So a few weeks ago, I was flying home for the weekend and stopped by the spa. I was happy to see Nicole was there and decided to get a 20 minute chair massage. So I'm sitting there, trying to relax and enjoy this moment. Suddenly, I start to feel like I'm going to puke...I think "this is not going to be a comfortable massage, but I'll be okay"....I'm trying to convince myself this is true, because of course I don't want to tell the lady I suddenly feel as though I will vomit. And I don't even understand why this is happening.
Then I start feeling really hot and realize that I'm not going to be able to make it through the massage...so I sit up and say, "You're not hurting me, but I feel really nauseous all of a sudden." As she's saying, "Are you okay...should I get a trash can?", I realize I can't see. So I say, "I don't know I feel like I might pass out, maybe I should drink some water."
And then without any further warning. I just completely pass out. When I "wake up" she helps me walk to a back room (because let's face it...this is really bad for business). As I'm walking my vision is still tunneled and very fuzzy, but I know I'm walking past several workers and customers so I'm trying to get it together. My memory of this part isn't quite as vivid, but I'm positive that I was gagging and making "I'm gonna puke" faces as I tried not to actually vomit. She leaves me on a massage table in a back room and I drink some water while she goes to (I assume) talk with her co-workers about the crazy passing out redhead.
She rejoins me in the room as I lay in the dark, attempting to fully return to reality. After a while I feel fine and we re-enter the front of the spa. Everyone is staring at me asking, "Are you ok?", "Do you have low blood pressure?" "Have you eaten today?"I quickly pay (leaving a generous tip) and repeatedly apologize explaining, "I have no idea...this doesn't normally happen." And seriously this is very true. I was not sick, I had eaten, I am clueless as to the cause of this embarrassing moment.
On my return trip I practically ran past the store! But I definitely saw her, and I'm pretty sure she saw me. My plan was to call her and have her come to my house, but now....? So my question is..."If you were me...would you ever face Nicole again?" ('Cause her massages are quite helpful to my french canadian man induced pain.)
Sunday, September 14, 2008
I went for cat litter....
...I came home with Lucy.
Meet Lucilia Louise. She is Maxwell Milton's new baby sister. They aren't friends yet, but hopefully if I introduce them correctly they will be best buds very soon! :) Max still slept with me last night, so he must not be too upset. :)
I played with names like Madelyn, Anastasia, Maggie, Molly, Catarina, and Lila...but I settled on Lucy. Lucy is my favorite character in the Chronicles of Narnia, but my kitty needed a more sophisticated name. She is a proper lady and her brother has a very proper name. So I eventually decided on the name Lucilia (a name I read once in the Canterbury Tales) Louise (for Louisa May Alcott).
Isn't she beautiful! It's hard to photograph her blue eyes and she won't sit still....but you get the idea. Her tail is my favorite part!
Friday, September 12, 2008
Have I mentioned I love the beach?
Yeh, probably a few times. :)
Well, I live in Florida now, but I haven't been enjoying the fact that I live by the ocean! In fact the last time I went to the beach was over a month ago...when I took my mom and her husband the first weekend I moved here. Since then I've been to Md and Va and the hurricanes came here...so I just haven't made it back. But finally today I decided to stop at the beach on my way home from work.
I didn't have a swimsuit so I just set out on a barefoot stroll down the beach. I was enjoying my caramel frapaccino (shoutout to Starbucks), the soft sand between my toes, and the foamy water that occasionally leapt up to my knees. I smiled at little boys trying to emulate their fathers as they attempted to catch more than a wave with their fishing poles. I shook my head as a few runners passed by thinking..."I really should be doing that". And I watched the surfers wishing I was fearless enough to try something that looks so freeing. Basically, I was just enjoying a relaxing afternoon marveling at God's creation and the people enjoying it.
Sidenote: I have a lamp that is glass that was bought 5 years ago with lofty intentions to do something crafty; however, the extent of my creativeness thus far has been the ribbon tied around the shade. I've thought about putting flower petals or potpourri in it before, but I guess I've never been too inspired. Anyway, I recently decided that I should fill it with seashells. Back to current story...
As I meandered farther down the beach I began to head up towards the dunes to do some "shelling". Armed with my (now empty) Starbucks cup, I was planning to search the sand for small shells for my project. But, what I found quickly changed my plans. Because of the recent Atlantic storms, I found myself collecting a myriad of very large shells. I quickly realized this cup was just not going to do. I took off one of my tanks and tied the straps to create a bag. Now more properly equipped, I began to scour the beach for unique shells. Soon my feet were raw from broken shells, my shoulders were turning pink, and my "bag" was becoming very heavy.
I had to tear myself away from the search to head back down to the softer sand and foamy water. I walked back, once again enjoying the ocean, satisfied by my unexpected afternoon adventure and finds. They shells are amazing, but much to large for my original idea. The lamp project will have to wait for another day.
Now I have to come up with a new idea for these beauties. I have a few thoughts, but if you have any seashell crafts let me know!
Check out my finds! It's hard to tell, but the shells are the size of my fist or larger.
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