Random Question of the Week

Do you ever look up at the night sky and think, "Wow. I'm a part of that"?

"The Number Zero, Brought To You By The Party Of N-O"

ht: Sam Stein

Another Poop Story

By now you've probably seen the list of things that Kairos has eaten. There's no telling what else he's ingested that we missed.

After his breakfast this morning I took him out to go to the bathroom. The last couple of times he'd had a little bit of trouble making things work. He would assume the position and then just move his tail up and down, as if he were working an old-fashioned water pump. It was the same today: he just stood there, waiting, moving his tail up and down; waiting, moving his tail up and down some more.

Finally! There was a bit--a tiny poop. More of a nugget, really. He moved to a different patch and continued his efforts. The neighbor came out of his side gate, scaring Kairos, who spun around, sending a sock whipping from his butt.

Two days ago, I saw him throw up what looked like either a sock or a napkin. Before I could get to it, he swallowed it again. I hope that this was the sock that he just pooped out and that there isn't another one in there somewhere.

And I still don't know where or when he found the sock. I do know that, because some of the sock poop got stuck to him and he won't left me wipe it off and he keeps trying to wipe it on the floor, I'm going to have the groomers shave his butt today.

Overheard in a Coffee Shop

The guy sitting at the table behind me was trying to set up a web account. He had apparently already paid for the account, but hadn't yet received a confirmation email, so he called customer service.

After a few minutes on the phone, he uttered one of the funniest things I've heard in a long time:

"Yeah, you're right. I guess "butt smoke" is too obvious a password."

Thanks for the laugh, dude!

Suicide By Sock

Kairos is one of the happiest dogs I've met. He's so excited to see people, whether a new acquaintance or an old friend, that he pees on them. Or on the ground at their feet. His tail is almost always wagging, occasionally even while he sleeps. Which makes it that much more difficult to understand why he seems intent on killing himself. With a sock. Or a headband. Or anything else that he can ingest that stands a good chance of blocking or wrapping itself around his intestines.

To date, the tally stands at:

1. Fabric square from Hannah's Knot-a-Quilt kit: Forcibly removed before it went all the way down). Cost: one fabric square from Hannah's Knot-a-Quilt set and pierced eardrums when Hannah realized that we were going to throw away said fabric square.
   
2. Fabric headband: Induced vomiting at the vet. Cost: two sets of X-rays, a full day stay, whatever medicine they used to make him vomit. Probably peroxide (see below). Cost: $600
3. Sock: Induced vomiting at home. Cost: one tablespoon of peroxide (at the vet's instruction) and a roll of paper towels to mop up.
4. Fabric headband: Induced vomiting at home. Cost: another tablespoon of peroxide, a roll of paper towels and having to listen to Hannah crying that that was her absolutely, positively most favorite headband and why can't she keep it. (She changed her mind after I took the limp, soggy, dog-food-smelling scrap of pink and silver headband out of the trash for her inspection.)
5. Sock: Vomiting. He did this one on his own. Cost: A roll of paper towels, plus Thomas had to get up in the middle of the night to clean up the mess.
6. Sock: Forcible extraction. I got it before it went down, but only because he was wearing a muzzle and I think that prevented him from swallowing it.
7. Small cloth doll: Forcible extraction. Cost: temper and nerves.
   
8. Ribbon--the one the vet used to tie on his post-op cone: It went all the way through. Cost: Ew, yuck, he had a ribbon hanging from his butt. (Hannah: Did you get it? I wanted that pretty blue ribbon. Me: It's not blue any more, sweetie.)
9. String from a rope toy: Also passed through on its own. Cost: none.
   
10. Sock: Still waiting for him to vomit it up. Cost: One tablespoon of peroxide and an "Oh my god--you're going right back to the breeder!"
    

I've been doing a little poking around and some of the tips I've found include:

1. Obviously, putting all of the socks away, which we're all getting better about, but he grabbed the second headband while we were playing in the back yard, a mere five seconds after it fell from Hannah's head.
   
2. Putting cayenne pepper or bitter apple on a sock that you leave out intentionally. The trainer did not recommend this.
   
3. Give them a toy-but NOT a treat--in exchange for the sock--but this assumes that you actually see them before the sock goes in all the way.
   
4. More exercise. In the beginning this would have made sense, because poor Kairos was pretty much confined to the house and yard until he had all of his shots. But either that's not the answer for him or it's just become a habit. He gets lots of exercise now and still, many things other than food must be eaten.
   

UPDATE:

The sock exited the dog, using the back door. No complications. No $600 vet bill. Whew!

Pica–noun Pathology.

an abnormal appetite or craving for substances that are not fit to eat, as chalk or clay, common in malnutrition, pregnancy, etc. Dictionary.com Unabridged Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2009.

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Things I Never Imagined I’d Say

Hannah please don’t put the chickens down the slide again! And NO she does not want a ride in the swing again, either.

Charlotte—DO NOT wash your hands with that toothbrush!

Charlotte! Toothpaste! NOT the soap!

Whatever that is DO NOT put it in your mouth!

Jesus Edith! There’s a ribbon sticking out of the dog’s butt.

Feel free to add your own!

Update on Hannah's Art Contest Entry

Hannah's Poppy earned an Honorable Mention at the art contest sponsored by the Loma Prieta District Womens' Club and one of the judges said that she would like to buy it when Hannah has her first gallery show!

Reminder: Hannah is six.

She literally glowed when her teacher gave her the news.

I guess I'd better get started on transforming my plant room into an art studio for the girls.

A Paean to Citi--Well, Maybe Not

The New F***ing Citibank - watch more funny videos

The Dammit

First one of 2009! How, you must be asking, did I manage to go this long without finding something to be outraged about? Well, that gives us

Dammit #1:
I'm lazy. Well, feeling lazy, anyway. I just sent out invoices that should have gone two weeks ago (shut up, Thomas!). I've been dithering on a book proposal. There's a pile of laundry in my room that needs to be folded. The front garden is a mess (most wouldn't think so, but I'm usually a bit anal about it). Usually these would be signs of creeping depression, but now my brain is just tired. And feeling lazy.

Dammit #2:
R u s h L i m b a u g h. He calls women hos and femanazis; says that women work because they're unattractive and don't have alternative options for meeting people (men). He's loud and rude and crass. And yet he wonders why women don't like him. He has republican party bigwigs cowering at his feet and kissing the ring. He actually had the gall to invite the president of the US to debate him on the issues. Obama has more important things to thing about than a bloated talking head who thinks of no one but himself, but R u s h isn't not stupid; even this futile invite serves his purpose: Obama won't take the bait, leaving R u s h with the ability to say that Obama was afraid to come on his little show and "face" the 20 million, mostly male, listeners.

Dammit #3:
Bernie Madoff's portrait didn't go at auction. I expected that someone would have thought 100k a small price to pay for a large, sneering dartboard. Oh, wait: no one had any money left to pay for it. And he's just not worth the jail sentence one might get for slashing it. Not that I'm recommending that. Really.

Dammit #4:
I'm not ready to be 40.

Hannah Takes First Prize!

Hannah's Poppy took first prize for her age group in an art contest sponsored by the Woman's Club of Palo Alto this weekend:


The winners advance to the district competition on March 9.

Inadvertently Inappropriate, part II B

Charlotte's new favorite movie is Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The movie is cute so I don't mind that I've already seen it 10 times (I'm not listing the real number here as I don't want you to think that my children watch television all day). The problem arises, again, from her inability to make certain sounds--"ak," for example--and her need to add an "a" at the end of many words and often, mid-word.

Yesterday afternoon we were at Peet's (yes, again!) and Charlotte said she wanted to watch "Chadee a Chocit F u c k a de tee."

Much more of this and I might have to switch my office to the other Palo Alto Peet's.

Hannah's Gallery

I'm making up for lost time: there are new posts up on Hannah's Gallery.

Inadvertently Inappropriate, part II

1. Hannah, on seeing a photo of a model:

Mommy, why is her skirt all the way up to her vagina?

Why indeed, peanut.


2. Charlotte, still unable to pronounce the blended sound, "ow":

Mommy! You c[o]unt! You c[o]unt! One, two, three . . . .

Her speech therapist didn't understand at first why I thought this an important thing to work on. But once I told her that this had been yelled at me in a crowded store and in a coffee shop, she figured it out.

Little Slices of Heaven

For Charlotte, it's Disneyland:




For Hannah, it's her art (well, Disneyland, too):

Kairos

Just a little sketch Hannah whipped out this morning. And by "whipped out," I mean "in under two minutes."

Hannah's Gallery

I've finally updated Hannah's Art Gallery.

There are three new posts, covering 2008 (a small sample) through this week.

Stroll through and remind yourself that she's only six.

Random Request

Let's say that you're waiting in line at your local coffee shop.

Emphasis on "Coffee Shop."

It is not a pharmacy. HIPAA does not apply. The person in front of you is not giving out sensitive information and, in most cases, will not mind if you overhear an order for a nonfat soy double latte, or anything else on the menu.

It's a coffee shop, not a bank. You do not need to stay behind some invisible line and wait until the Next Available waves you over.

Rather than force the line behind you out the door, please, move up. Really, it's OK. And if someone gives you trouble, tell them to talk to me. Especially if I'm waiting, un-caffeinated, in a cold rain.

My New Favorite Photo

25 Random Things--The Cheat Post

What follows is from my favorite chain-esque mail of all time. This is possibly not a very good description, as I detest chain email to the point where I am certain to spend eternity in hell, or at least be hit by a bus tomorrow, because I refuse to forward these letters. But this one was fun and a great way to learn random things about people I've known for years. In two cases I learned things about women I've know for most of my life.

So my responses to this I-only-saw-it-on-Facebook chain was going to be my post for the day (well, yesterday, if I'm being honest; I never got around to posting it), but then I saw that Dan Zak also received it and then used it for a column in today's Washington Post. His is way funnier--and he was paid for it!--but this is mine:

Rules: Once you've been tagged, write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you.

At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

25) I am afraid of spiders.
24) I once passed out when my brother dropped a plastic spider on my shoulder.
23) I am a chocoholic who is allergic to chocolate. Fortunately it is a mild allergy.
22) I would like to live in Europe for a year or so.
21) I am equally afraid of success and failure.
20) I didn’t get my first cavity until I was 30.
19) My favorite TV show is House.
18) I once went an entire year without watching TV.
17) My favorite TV show is The Daily Show. (Yes, I know. Two favorites)
16) I can’t watch psychological thrillers.
15) I also can’t watch horror movies.
14) In the year before my mother died, I spoke to her for a grand total of three minutes.
13) I suck at math.
12) Sometimes I still wake up from nightmares about waiting tables.
11) If I can see the entire plot line of a show in the first two minutes I can’t watch it.
10) I love the type of friends you can go for years without seeing and then pick up where you left off.
9) Unmedicated, I am painfully shy. Medicated, I sometimes still am.
8) Politically I lean very hard to the left, but I never vote based on party affiliation.
7) Give me a pint of ice cream with any sort of chocolate chunk, chip or ribbon and I will do a little mining to remove all of those chocolate bits.
6) I hate these lists. [[Update: obviously not true]]
5) I have started getting up at 5:00 two days a week. This is perhaps more shocking to me than it will be to you. (Depending on how well you know me, of course.)
4) I’m a writer and almost (REDACTED) years old, but have only recently figured out the mysteries of the semi-colon.
3) I like my in-laws more than my own parents (see #14).
2) I detest having my photo taken.
1) I hope I have 25 people to send this to.

And There Goes the Neighborhood?

Now that Kairos has finally had all of his shots, Charlotte and I were able to take him for a walk yesterday morning. We were three blocks from the house when I found what looked like a small bag of cocaine.

Cocaine. In a little baggie. Just sitting there, next to the telephone pole between the sidewalk and road, on the only patch of grass that was covered in the yellow oxalis that Charlotte likes to pick.

Kairos found the bag first and I barely managed to get it away before it ended up the same way as a few other things he's put in his mouth--slimy, $600 vomit on the floor of the vets' office (though in this case it would probably have been a bit more expensive).

Because I forgot to bring my phone and I didn't want to just leave the baggie there for another dog--or little kid--to find, I scooped it up in a poop bag and took it to the police department.

One might think that the possibility of drugs appearing on a street in a quiet neighborhood might excite a little attention, but in this case you would be wrong. I sat in the police station for 45 minutes before anyone came to take the bag. The receptionist only wanted my name, address, phone number and where I found the bag.

When she finally appeared, the detective only wanted my name, address, drivers license number, phone number, cell phone number, where I found the bag, and then the bag itself.

Next time I'm just going to call and let them come to me. Not that I want there to be a next time, of course. But then, there's always Weeds.