Rat picture

From left to right: Maya, Lisa, and Rikki.

~nv

Chair, part II

Here is a picture of the chair I mentioned in my last post.
Beautiful, huh? Okay, kinda hard to tell in such a small version of
the shot, but trust me, it's nice.

~nv

chair

A friend of Dale's wanted to do something for us for a housewarming gift... and Dale mentioned this old rocking chair that has been in my family for four or five generations.    It's one of few I've ever seen with a flat back - most have rungs - and it's got short rockers and a small frame.  Fits us very well.  But over the years, the varnish started coming off and sticking to everything, so Mom decided to sand it.  She never finished the job.  Then it sat in storage when she moved and she worried something would happen to it.  So she gave it to me to store in our garage a few years ago.  I went out one day and discovered that there was water all around it!  I brought it inside and placed it in our storage room, thinking THERE it should be safe.  It wasn't.  Unbeknownst to us, the roof leaked - right over the chair.  I discovered this shortly after a huge rain storm.  By then it had deteriorated even more and one of the seat's seams had split, so it was not only wobbly, but completely unsafe to sit on.  (If not for humans, then for the chair's sake.)  As we moved it to our new house, I realized it might juts be its last move.

Dale's friend said, "Bring it over, I'll take a look.  I might be able to fix it."  I was skeptical, but Dale assured me that the dude does nice stuff and would be careful with the chair if nothing else.  So, I handed it over with a wistful sigh, hoping with low hopes that it could be restored.  I told the guy that it's antique, but not worth any money because of its condition.  My primary focus was, therefore, to get it restored to a functional condition, even if he had to add extra support.  He could sand it down, too, if he wanted, but I'd be happy to refinish it.  I didn't expect to see it before winter.

A month ago, the guy sent us pictures of the chair, completely disassembled and stripped of its original varnish as best as I recall.  I thought, "Zheezh, this guy means business!!"

Then last night, Dale says, "Want to go look at your chair?"  I'm like, "What?  Sure!!"  We walk in, and Dale sits on their couch.  I go to sit next to him and the guy says, "Why don't you sit over there in that chair."  I glance over and see a beautiful rocking chair with a nice reddish knitted blankie draped over its back.  I thought, "Wow, that's a nice rocker.  Wait.  Wow, they have one a lot like mine!!"  I looked a bit closer and saw this flat back.  "A LOT like mine."  Then I got suspicious so I peered around the side to discover the old crack in the post.  "Hey!!" I exclaimed.  "This... this is it!!"  Him and his wife laughed and seemed pleased at my reaction as I looked it over, amazed by the transformation.  I told them that it's amazing, but the stain he'd chosen actually threw me, too, because I could swear it was the same colour as the original varnish, but it had been so long since I'd really seen it... he said, "Oh, take a look at the bottom.  I left the original varnish there because it was in such good shape."  So I did.  He'd used that to match the rest of the chair.  It WAS the same colour!!

The wife explained to us, too, that the blanket was ours.  She'd gotten into a knitting mood and made it for us, and tried to use a colour that complemented the chair.  I couldn't believe their generosity.  They wouldn't take any money for any of it, either.  I don't understand why we're so blessed when so much of the world is in such a state of disarray.  I mean, I'm happy, but it still seems so unfair.

Nonetheless, it was so nice to sit in that chair again.  We've since brought it home and put it in our kitchen.  There was a corner that needed something, and it fits nicely.  I left my camera at work, but plan to take a picture of it and send it to Mom.  She won't believe it!!

Lazy Memorial Day

I was lazy today. Had a client at 3pm, so I stopped at a store on
the way back to get Milk, cheese, snackiepoo, and Benadryl in both
its forms (cream and pill). My left hand got bitten twice yesterday
by one of those midgelike little fu**ers on the left index finger
knuckle. Really, REALLY bad place to get bit, let alone twice, once
on front and back of the knuckle, ow. I've been bitten by skeeters
there before, and it's always worse than any other spot (except the
top of the head, maybe, which is at least almost as bad, or on a toe,
which is worse if I must wear shoes). Now I can barely bend that
finger, it itches like crazy but scratching makes it far worse, and
despite the ice I've been doling out to it, the swelling has spread
to my hand's knuckle, too. Dale insisted the cream would help but it
didn't. In fact, the swelling on my hand occurred after I used it
and the thing still needed ice to keep the itching at bay. Right
now, I'm alternating between cold cloth and keyboard. So I've just
taken some Advil (for the anti-inflammatory properties) and will
continue to apply ice whenever the itch returns. There were a couple
times this afternoon where the knuckle was warm to my upper lip even
after being iced for a while. That sorta scared me a little but I
figure it's trying to disperse the poison from the bug so of course
it's gonna be warm. I hope icing it isn't bad for it. Heck, I don't
know if NOT icing it might allow it to swell more. That would scare
me a lot more than what it's currently doing.

This is why it /really/ ticks me off when people tell me I overreact
to biting bugs. One would think someone knows when bugs are
attracted to them, and that they'd know even better that the
reactions are a little worse than an average person. Especially
since I don't see /them/ walking around with huge lumps that impede
the usage of a digit. This sort of thing would have renewed the
ancient hostility toward Mother were it not for my being so damned
happy with my life (sans biting insects).

Anywho, other than the swollen itchy grabby-typy thing, the day's
been awesome. I easily fixed three of three problems for my client
(only one of which he had asked me for help on), did the required
shopping, had an awesome din din made of chicken, cream of chicken
soup, and cheese soup... Dale cut up the bell pepper for it on my
whim and it has /made/ the dish. I also relaxed, and oh!! The
potato plants have doubled in size since yesterday!! WOW!! The
peppers still aren't up [enough?] for me to know they're growing, but
5 out of 6 isn't bad for my first attempt at a garden.

At dinner, I spread some catnip on Sinclair's toy and Dale and I had
fun giggling as the little fuzzy went ballistic over it. Silly
creature.

Well, finger's driving me nuts a bit quicker than it had been, so I'd
better get more ice and let it sit still for a while. At least I /
can/ type still...

~w

Peaches LIVES!!!!!

I thought for sure she was dying on me and was surprised when she
lasted another week. She slept that long and wobbled around with her
eyes squeezed shut and she was cold and looked stiff. But she kept
eating and drinking and when I looked in on her tonight she had both
eyes open wide and bright, looking for food. I gave her some more
(her appetite appeared out of nowhere), she nibbled, and wandered
around looking like she wanted out.

So, Peaches is now in the bathroom wandering around on the floor.
Sinclair of course is sitting just outside wishing the crack under
the door was large enough for him to get one teensy claw under, but,
no such luck for him. Mwah hah hah. Peaches is happy and safe. I'm
so glad she's enjoying another romp in there. Now I feel almost
guilty for not taking her to the vet. Maybe she had pneumonia or
something that could have been cleared up quicker with antibiotics!
But no, I won't go there. She is old, and I won't kid myself about
it. So I did right by not inflicting that kind of stress on the
little bugger. Kept her warm, gave her some fresh air, made sure her
bedding was clean, talked to her... it was enough.

Anywho, just had to share that news.

In other newses, we planted some flowers and things out front.
AND!! The POTATOES finally came up today!!!!!!! W00T!! Now all
that's left to show themselves are the peppers. And, if they don't
come up, I won't cry about it because I did wrong by them in the
first place by planting too late in the season - and outside to start
with. So if they even bother to come up, I'll be more than excited.
The carrots, onions, spinach, tomatoes, and potatoes are all up,
that's great for my first garden in my book.

I just chomped some sweet stuff on my right side and... no
significant pain from the sweet stuff itself. I'm hoping the filling
worked. Very sensitive to cold still, but I expected that. Here's
hoping!

~nv

Pot Roast vs bacon and corn mush

I've been sitting here reading "A Breath of Snow and Ashes." Being a
rather detailed book taking place in Colonial Pre-America, food is
mentioned repeatedly since it's a rather common aspect of human life,
which is painted almost too well by Diana Gabaldon. So, I got
hungry, and creative.

The Creamy Crock Pot Roast was already put to heat hours ago in
preparation for my lunches this week. My tastebuds have been wanting
chocolate and sugar, so I began feeding them meat instead as my
mother taught me. Now they want more meat. Mother was right; when I
want sugar, I'm lacking in protein. I'd been starting to think that
I'd tricked my body into accepting a more vegan lifestyle without
meaning to by eating spinach and other greens and soups and things,
but apparently my meat intake was scarcely sufficient to trick me
into thinking I'd tricked my body. Hmph.

Anywho, a pot roast needing a few more hours to roast in the pot de
crock wasn't going to help me whilst reading my food-laden book. Nor
was it going to help my creative streak any. I recalled the corn
meal that I'd purchased today. Corn mush didn't sound particularly
appetizing, however. So I went through the fridge and discovered,
much to my delight, an unopened, scarcely expired package of bacon.
Oh, goody!! As I opened the package, my mind went inquiringly to the
grill. "?" it asked me. I glanced over at my mind as it dangled its
legs over the edge of the railing, looking down at the grill with
extreme interest. "Uh... I don't know," I admitted, and promptly
left the bacon to search the 'net. Can one grill bacon? It seemed
logical. Even with the fat... it seemed logical. I mean, you can
roast a whole pig over a spit, right over the open flame. Bacon's
still pig, right?

Right. But the site I found that confirmed this also mentioned pan
frying. In this pan frying section, it mentioned making stuff with
the fat. My mind jumped off the railing and came over to read with
me. "You can make stuff with bacon fat?" it echoed. "Apparently
so," I told it, clicking a link to read more.

In the end, I pan-fried my bacon (OMG, I'd forgotten what pan-fried
bacon tasted like... it's sooooooo much better than the microwave
when cooked just right!!) and then added some green onions and a
couple sprigs of cilantro to the grease. I then reserved those and
added a small amount of flour to the grease as an experiment. Once
that looked "done" I added corn much to the grease, pushing the flour
stuff out of the way. Then I combined some of the flour mixture and
the greens with the mush and flopped it on my plate with the crispy
bacon. Not bad. I sampled the fried flour. Crispy, nothing I'd
want every day, but I can say this - the pan was very clean of bacon
fat. "Nice job," my mind said, "although bacon on the grill still
sounds pretty cool." "Agreed," I agreed.

I then looked up more Native American recipes, because it dawned on
me that many of the recipes I've seen and tried could not possibly be
truly traditional - they did NOT have flour, did they? Did they
raise chickens? Pigs? I thought they mostly hunted and gathered, at
least, the majority of the tribes with winters did. One recipe in
particular did catch my attention as being very possibly Native:
Pashota. It's basic enough: Add 1 pound of washed hominy to 2 qts
of water, and when half done, add 1 pound of pork. Boil for roughly
4 hours or until meat and corn are done. It sounds like a thick soup
in the end. Now, I'm not sure if pigs were always available prior to
the whole Native displacement thing, but it does sound like something
that could utilize game and other meat. And, it didn't sound far off
from my crock pot roast.

Given that I'm not so fond of many Native recipes, I had to wonder:
What nationalities do I like most (cooking-wise)? I remember a
Mexican dude used to make a sort of omelette that I liked, which I
later modified to suit my taste. What I do now is often a cross
between that and the rice I saw being made at the Japanese
steakhouse. So is that Mexican or Japanese? I also love Cilantro,
which is more along the lines of Thai or Vietnamese. And then
there's my love of Indian rice. I often mix all these things in some
way, shape or form. And I love soup. Every nationality has soup.
In particular, I like the simple ones: Veggies and meat cooked in a
broth, preferably with some cilantro in there but any typical soup-
herb will do: Marjoram, thyme, rosemary, oregano, basil, etc.

Truthfully, I like a little of everything. But later tonight, after
eating hamburgers off the grill, you can bet I'll be sampling that
pot roast.

In other news, I had trouble lowering the ramp in the rats' cage, so
I left it partially suspended for them. Earlier I realized that one
rat has been having trouble jumping up to it. I realized this
because I heard squeaking going on and as I turned to see what was
going on, I saw one rat near the ramp scrunched down. Another rat
climbed on its back and lowered itself, also. At first I thought
they'd gone mad. Then I saw the third rat climb up the two of them
and onto the ramp. The first two had no problem jumping up to it,
and proceeded to do so, to the "cheering" of the third rat who had
turned around on the ramp as if to make sure her sisters were OK
getting up on their own. Then the three of them proceeded up the
rest of the cage to find me staring at them in open-mouthed awe.

My cat, on the other hand, still chases things from outside the
laundry basket as if he doesn't realize he could just jump IN. I
used to think cats were just so smart so as to pretend they were
dumb, but having watched Sinclair grow up (okay, so he's still
growing up), I'm beginning to think cats in general are not too high
on the intelligence ladder. I mean, when you talk to a cat and he
looks as if you're giving him compliments and starts purring and
falling all over himself with pride, paws clenching in kittenlike
fashion... you start wondering. Then you talk to a rat. I swear
cats hear "food, pet, attention, you're great" while rats get "No,
atmospheric absorption theory has nothing to do with food but if you
listen long enough you'll glean information on how I'm going to
provide you food in the near future."

I bet Sinclair AND the rats will like the pot roast.

~nv

Excitement in town

So today we're driving down West Road while Dale reads the newspaper.  He says, "Hey, there was an accident... some guy was drinking coffee and started choking on it... then this Kyle person tried to help by grabbing the steering wheel and they crashed into a utility pole."

My hands on the steering wheel, I'm gawking at the landscape before us:  green, green, green, more green, and - oh yeah!! - fluffy clouds in an overcast background of prematurely aging sky.  On one level I'm enjoying the beauty; on another I'm disappointed that there's no blue in sight for our photo shoot; on yet another I'm happy because it's not raining yet.  And then a shadow of a thought materializes and screams, "OMG!!  Are they okay?!"

Dale assures me that they are.  Just bruises, bumps, that sort of thing.  Hot coffee spilled all over the guy's lap, most likely.  Whups.  Can't imagine how that could have happened.  Maybe he just bought it from the store down the road, and, like many of us, decided he'd drink it on the road.  Do you think he'd ever have guessed that his passenger would yank the steering wheel out of his hands just because he was happily inhaling his coffee?  Everybody knows that caffeine absorbs quicker through the lungs!!  What's wrong with this Kyle person, anyway??  Maybe he was just jealous that he didn't get any coffee.

So then I hear Dale's next comment.  "Hm.  Wonder where the pole is?"  "Yeah," I respond, and we both glance over to the right side of the road.  There, behold, is a pole lying on the ground near the upright one!  "There it is!!" we exclaim together, as if we'd just seen Bigfoot carrying off a beautiful maiden after searching for it for six days on foot, rifles in hand the whole time.  We exhale as we pass, and say, "Huh."

Accident?  Yep, right here in OUR town!!  On OUR STREET!!  OMG There's the pole!!  There it goes!!  Bye, pole!!  This, after that murder on the other road we're so familiar with.  For such a little town, we sure do have a lot going on.  How much excitement can we stand?!

As long as we don't see people shooting peas at our house, I think some excitement is okay... such as the kind we experience when we're tagging each other "it" and chasing each other around and around the house.  I think I'll avoid grabbing Dale's steering wheel, however.  Gatorade might stain my black jacket.

~nv

Peaches

For the past couple days, Peaches (hamster) has been looking far
older than usual. She's slowed down considerably and yesterday we
noticed that she has a little trouble staying coordinated. You know,
like, she'll walk a bit funny as if her feet don't quite want to hold
up her weight anymore, or they're a bit sluggish like they don't want
to move. Yet she's been getting around despite this.

But, she is definitely not doing well today. I thought she was about
to die a short while ago because she was laying on her back but then
she flipped over on her side like she realized she wasn't laying
right. I petted her for a bit and her eyes cleared a little as if
she recognized the gesture, but then she went back to sleep. Her
breathing is laboured and it sounds like her lungs are filling with
fluid. She seems to be mostly out of it, though, so I've convinced
myself that she's not really suffering most of the time.
Consequently I'm trying not to disturb her so she can stay unaware.
I hope she goes soon. I know little animals get cold when they're
sick and she's got herself surrounded by bedding and it's cool in
here so I put my heating pad against the side of the cage figuring
maybe it would help her stay warm. She's not making little squeaky
nasal noises right now so maybe it's helping her breathing a little
bit, if for no other reason than that she's more comfortable and/or
less stressed by the temperature. (I remember when one of the mice
was old, he'd bury himself in the baby bunnies to stay warm.)

Death is such a strange thing. The process of dying [of old age] is
more like a transitional thing, really; typically I think of it as
"one moment, the critter was here. Now, it's not." But looking at
how Lancelot went, and how Peaches is going, it's not really that cut
and dry. It's more like the critter is scouting out a new home while
its body is shutting down, and it occasionally returns to see if it's
time to shut off the utilities at the old place yet. You know, tying
up loose ends as it were. The only thing is, it never leaves me an
address to go visit it in the flesh at. So I'm left here to talk
silently to its essence and wish it well in its new endeavour, tell
it I miss it, etc., as I bury the old body that is just that - a
body, nothing more anymore.

Logically, death equates to a complex system of cells that simply
cannot function anymore. Spiritually, those cells and the lifeforce
that keeps them going are quite separate even though combined for a
while, and even when they separate permanently, the lifeforce still
exists - somewhere. But from the perspective of attachment, my heart
sags and my eyes water and I have to blow my nose and I miss the
appearance of the lifeforce as it shows itself in its body.

So I sit here ruminating on all three levels - curious, unfeeling
observation and mental notes about the process; confusion over how
sometimes she looks like Peaches and other times she's just a body;
the pre-ordered tears that fall as I watch her breathing heavily...
I'm awaiting the inevitable, all the while knowing how many more
tears will fall once her time of death is etched in stone and can't
be changed. And then I sit here and wonder if I should feel guilty
about not trying to save her, greeted at the same time with the
futility of the concept. Do I want her to lay there incapable of
taking care of herself because she's so old that her legs fail her?
Is that worth staying alive for? She doesn't seem to mind sleeping
all the time. Why should I mind if she doesn't? Why should I feel
guilty for not wanting to push her past her old age? I guess it's
the fear of the unknown - I'll never know whether she'd suffer more,
or less, later. Maybe my instincts are wrong, and she's not that
old. Maybe she should live another year, and she's got some simple
illness that could be cleared up by antibiotics. But if I'm right,
and I disturb her to attempt salvation, then what? Then she suffers
more than she already is. She's brought back from her dreams to
reality so she's made aware again that something is happening to her
body. Possibly this something is painful in some way. Maybe
touching her is painful in and of itself. Maybe sleeping in the
comfort of her own bed, the last one she might ever make for herself,
is preferable to a fresh clean one that the wind will blow through.
Maybe the bumping around in a truck would piss her off. Being poked
and prodded by a doctor certainly would frighten her some. And then...

... the doctor might give me some sort of antibiotic, or give her a
shot, and give me false hope. I tried everything to save Gracie.
She took her medicine diligently, trusting that my trust in her
doctor was warranted. I gave her the dreaded mite baths for weeks.
And she seemed to get better. But she was still old. And putting
her through that for even one more month just so her and I could
spend a few extra weeks together... was it worth it? Now I just miss
her even more, and wonder if she wanted that or if she'd have
preferred to have died a bit sooner. Yet, I do have a sense that
maybe I did everything in my power this time. I don't feel guilty,
at any rate. But she's still up on that mountain, and not here with
me. The shock of losing her so quickly when she seemed so much
better... God, I can't put myself through that again.

The truth is, none of us truly knows. Especially when it's a little
animal who can't even speak for itself. I think the only reason I
tried so hard with Gracie was because she was truly my friend. She
was still aware, and she was suffering, and I could not sit idly by
and tell her to accept it because I certainly couldn't. Peaches, on
the other hand, doesn't seem to give a damn one way or the other.
No, it's best to let her succumb to sleep. There are worse ways to
go. Why take the chance on one of those when sleep is so available?

Anywho, I've not eaten breakfast yet, and despite a lack of desire to
eat right now, I know that if I don't my stomach will make me pay
later. Hunger is definitely preventable, and so is the
lightheadedness and the confusion from lack of sustenance. I've
gotta eat. Besides, I have to make sure I have enough fluid in my
body so I can cry some more.

~nv

Lunch

A bit late for me, but 'twas good. I had spinach, cilantro, italian
herb croutons, leftover grilled pork chop, and parmesan peppercorn
dressing. Then I added potatoes and onions cooked in broth because
I'd had to cook the potatoes after chopping off the "seed" portions
for the garden. Of course sour cream went with that. The cool thing
about potatoes and onions in broth is that you boil everything until
the broth is mostly evaporated, then you're left with very moist,
very delicious, potatoes with a hint of onion flavour. Egads, is
that good. Especially with a dollop of sour cream and a nice salad.
Drool.

Ice Cream is coming up soon, too. Dale got home wicked early and
mentioned that he wanted to go out for ice cream. I'd been thinking
about it myself, although admittedly the kind we have here at home.
But ice cream is ice cream. Maybe I'll get one of those peanut
butter thingies this time!!

~nv

sweeper part II

Okay, they really REALLY work. This thing is amazing!! I ran over
the kitchen floor again, really quick, and was surprised at how much
cat hair had accumulated again. It certainly picks up a LOT of cat
hair. It's the really fine dander stuff, too, that Sinclair is
finally shedding. You can't see it too easily but you feel it after
you pet him. (This is his first shedding season.) Well, I had no
idea he has been shedding this much. The stuff is everywhere.
Kitchen, bathrooms, bedroom, guest room, stairs, dens, playpens.
EVERYWHERE. I know. I emptied the pans after every room. It's
EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!!

Not only that, but I emptied the pan/brush, and did a really quick
onceover of my den. I STILL found cat hair. I mean, I swear the
carpet was pretty clean. I guess it really hides stuff better than
I'd thought. I'm seeing another Sweeper in our household...

Yep, I'm very very duly impressed by the simplicity - and especially
effectiveness - of this creation. It even worked on the weird
whitish blanket lint that inhabits our bedroom floor in great
quantities. I swear it multiplies each night. Well, this little
sweeper gets all that, too, and that carpet is a bit thicker than the
others. Amazing. I should work for Bissell and help promote their
stuff!! Especially their sweepers!!

I just can't stop singing their praises!!

Well, we have a nice crock pot creation awaiting our devouring. Off
to eat we go. Okay, so there's ONE type of thing that can get me
away from the sweeper...

~w

Bissell Sturdy Sweep

Aight. THIS is freakin' cool. We were out at the hardware store
today and passed a shelf full of house stuff. Something red caught
my eye. It was a floor sweeper. The first time I'd seen one of these
handy little buggers was when I was a kid. The cottage that we
stayed at one summer happened to have one, and I remember my mother
using it. No electronic gadgetry whatsoever; it's got wheels on the
bottom and the brush spins hair and dirt and debris into a little
chamber by means of you rolling it back and forth on the floor.

I'd not seen one since I was a kid, in fact, until I saw a waitress
using one at Friendly's restaurant a few years ago. It never dawned
on me that perhaps I wanted one. Until today.

There were two kinds, the red one and this blue one (shown in picture
above). The red one didn't have brushes on the corners, that's
really the only difference. For a few extra bucks, we opted for the
extra brushes. Now. Let me tell you how wonderful this thing is.
It assembled in under two minutes. I then ran it over the kitchen
floor and was instantly gratified by several obvious chunks of debris
disappearing before my eyes. Impressive, I thought, but then, it's
new and on bare floor. So I moved into my den with the industrial
strength carpeting. I swore it seemed lighter as the sweeper ran over
it, but it's hard to tell because the carpet hides everything so
well. The sweeper DID pick up miscreant shavings, though, which I
found even more impressive than the kitchen debris. I was further
impressed as I saw fur and dirt disappear from the mat in front of
the door. It looks brand-new!! So I moved into Dale's den (which
has more light) and saw a noticeable difference in his carpeting.

The picture shows what it picked up in those three rooms, which I
spent no more than ten minutes "sweeping" altogether. My little
Riobi portable vacuum can do this. My little upright could, too.
But no better. And the Sweeper requires no power - no cord, no
battery. Additionally, it's got easy-to-empty dustpans built in.
You push on one side of each compartment and they open, allowing all
the debris to fall right out.

And, as if this isn't good enough, Bissell thought ahead to the
brushes. A simple plastic comb attaches to the handle. You pull it
off, and it quickly rips all the fur and hair from the brushes. You
simply pull the hair off the comb, and it falls neatly into the trash.

Sinclair DOES shed now. Just FYI.

~nv

Additionally,