Cross pictures

Okay, so the pics did not come out very well. Here's one group at a
time...

The Cross Pendant

I'm seeking age and origin of the following.  If anyone has any ideas or information, I'd appreciate it.

The pendant is over 40 years old but exact age is unknown.

It looks like it was "carved" from a grayish metal.

There's a sort of filigree around the center object which is a cross or sword.

The edges have little "balls" - 6 on each side, one at bottom.  They appear to have been hammered and/or filed.

The whole piece seems to be from one piece of metal and is bent outward from the front a bit.  I.e., the front curves outward slightly so when you set it down on a flat surface, the right and left sides hover over the surface.

FRONT:

The "cross" looks like a sword; on the handle, the left and right globes have a design in them like a four-petal flower, north, south, east west (common amongst many cultures).

At the bottom of the cross/sword is an ovalish thing with what appears to be writing.  I cannot make it out, the closest I can come is "SKKz" but the z part is more like a christmas tree if you ask me.  For all I know it may not even be Roman letters.

BACK:

There is a stamp of "800" on the backside in clear tiny lettering.

Same design on sword's handle as on the front.

Bottom of sword has something, not sure what, could be more writing.  UTRD maybe?

Flatter than the front, but equally designed

CHAIN:

The chain may not be original to the pendant, although it appears to be made of similar metal.  Its links are soldered so you can barely tell that they're not all one piece.  There are two "normal" links in between larger, more complex ones.  The complex ones have an "x" piece hugging the middle of larger links; there's a slightly heavier circle hugging the middle of the x formation.

Pictures below.  Click for larger version.

First harvest

Okay, so I picked a spinach leaf the other day, but THIS is the first
REAL harvest. I just made me a salad with spinach, green onion, and
cilantro all from my very own dirt. Quite delish. Now I want
dessert... *thinking about the frozen blueberries in freezer* NOM
NOM NOM

Whups, silly me vs printer

Okay, so I just did a really big dumb.

I went to print an invoice from my iMac to my HP C3180 and it kept
telling me the job was stopped. I'm like, HUH?? Printer turned on,
plugged in, USB plugged into... oh yeah, second monitor. Second
monitor not turned on. Heh.

Without power, the monitor will absolutely refuse to send along USB
signals to any connected peripherals.

So, I pressed the power button on the monitor, and whammo, the
printer eats up a page and spits it out. Ptu.

~w

Garden Pests

Leaf hoppers mostly.  I've been picking them off individually each day for the past three days.  They've decided my potato plants are tasty.  The potato plants are still doing well despite the minor infestation, however, and I see little yellow eggs on the underside of some of the leaves which I /think/ are lady bug eggs.  I'm keeping an eye on them to see if I'm right.  If they are, that's a good thing for those plants.  If not, I may need to eradicate them depending on what they are.

The spinach is doing awesome things.  It's sparse in its insect plagues, a healthy green colour, and getting bushier and fuller every day.

The tomato plants are riddled with holes, hardly growing if at all, and overall I just don't see them making it.  Carrots finally look like they have true "tops" albeit teensy ones.  Peppers finally sprouted but are not looking healthy enough for me to be excited.  And the green onions are kinda washed out looking.  They don't look happy, but are still growing.  I wonder if their section had too much lime?  Possible, as that's the corner the big pile was in.  Maybe a little manure this fall will help the soil for next year's crops.

Inside, I've got a couple surviving sprigs of coriander that are very nice, growing tall and strong.  I planted one of my last tomato seedlings in with them along with the sweet marjoram seedlings.  Then I put the basil and the remaining green onion seedling in with the inside green onions, which are thickening some and looking like they need a trim.  A third box is going to get started for the remainder of the tomato seedlings.  I can't imagine that they'll survive and produce inside, but even if they just grow bigger, they'll look nicer than the poor little things outside.

The Orange Mint is still in its pot.  I need to get it transplanted but worry I'll kill it.  LOL

Oh!  And I saw a mottled tortoise beetle on a potato plant the other day but didn't manage to get a good photo of it over the two days it was there.  I went out later to work on that, but it had disappeared.  The one photo I do have is just clear enough for me to have found out what it was online.  Oh, well.  I want to know when I can start eating the spinach!!

~w

Snake!!

A garter snake, to be exact, so called because it resembles the
garters that women once wore to hold up stockings.

I saw it yesterday, in fact, when I went to water the flowers on the
front steps. It moved quickly, sniffing the air intently with its
tongue. I marveled for a moment and then heard Dale at the side of
the house. I called to him to come see, and the snake stayed put
nicely. Wanting a picture, I went inside to grab the camera. When I
took aim, however, the little fella slithered away under the porch.

There'd been something bothering me about his eyes, though. I knew
it was a garter but began thinking maybe I was wrong; the eyes shone
bluish in the light which threw me. So a short while ago I began
looking online for garters to see if my memory could pick out the
snake again. It had seemed to me that the stripes were duller than
the pictures I saw online. And, the eyes were so bright compared to
what I'd seen. Then I saw a picture of an eastern ribbon snake and
thought, maybe it was one of those? But I couldn't find pictures of
the bluish eyes.

That's when I realized: The snake must have been molting. Their
eyes look like they've got cataracts when they're about to lose their
skin. I confirmed this online and then thought, "Gee, but /was/ it a
garter? Eastern ribbons are rare in this area, but they have been
sighted! Man, I wish I had a picture of that little guy!!" I
compared photo after photo of them online, and was fairly certain it
was a garter, but ... if it WAS a Ribbon, I certainly wanted to
report it. Did it have the white spot in front of its eye? Or did
it have the blackish lines on its mouth? My memory was too foggy
with the photos dancing across my retinas. There was no way I'd ever
know without seeing him again.

Burning curiosity and scientific excitement got the best of me. I
figured that if he'd been under our porch once, it was feasible he
could be living under there - assuming he hadn't stopped in our
flowerbed for a little basking action or somesuch and had slithered
off when he felt the prying eyes in my head had left. So, I ventured
out onto the porch and glanced down at the spot I'd last seen him -
and almost shit my pants. There he was!! His tongue wasn't out, so
I tiptoed back inside and snatched the camera. His eyes had cleared
since yesterday and he seemed a bit brighter than I remembered. He
must have molted already, and was now basking in the sun as I'd
thought, the shelter of the dark porch his security against intruders
- such as photographers. Well, he stayed put this time, and never
seemed the wiser. I think they sleep with their eyes open, so maybe
I was quiet enough not to wake him. At any rate, I got him!!

And as I was just writing this, I saw the mail person come up the
steps and deliver our mail. I ran out after she was gone and he's /
still/ there, in the same position. Feeling pretty comfy over there,
apparently. Then again, I was all over that porch yesterday and
never would have seen him had he not objected to being sprayed with a
bit o' water from the can. (Sorry, Mr. Snake.) (Assuming it's a Mr.)

~w

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,

Asparagus Soup

I found this recipe on the 'net and of course, modified it a bit to suit... well, in this case, to suit my lack of certain ingredients.

http://lowfatcooking.about.com/od/vegetablesandvegetarian/r/asparagussoup.htm

INGREDIENTS:

    * 2 tsp olive oil

    * 1 1/2 pounds asparagus, cut into 2 inch pieces

    * 1 medium onion, chopped

    * 1 celery stalk, chopped

    * 2 leeks, chopped (white part only)

    * 1 medium potato, peeled and cut into 1 inch pieces

    * 3 1/2 cups fat-free reduced sodium chicken or vegetable broth

    * 1/2 cup fat-free sour cream

PREPARATION:

Heat oil in a large Dutch oven. Add asparagus, onion, celery, leeks and potato, and cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add broth and simmer for 20 minutes, until vegetables are softened.

Transfer soup to a blender and puree until smooth.

You may need to do this in two stages. Return soup to Dutch oven, add sour cream and stir on low heat until blended.

My version:

more than 2 tsp olive oil (enough to coat bottom of Dutch Oven, which to me is a really big pot with a handle on each side)

Two bunches of asparagus with the 2 inch pieces consisting of the top flowery thingies; then I went a bit more than half way down and cut to about 1/4" pieces, discarding the rest 'cause I don't know when the woody part starts

A couple little potatoes

The rest of the chopped onion in the fridge (1/2 c?)

The rest of the College Inn Broth from the fridge (1/2 to 1c?)

1.5 cubes of chicken bouillion

3 cups of water

oregano, rosemary, thyme, basil and some chopped cilantro that was about to wilt dramatically anyway (can't waste cilantro, it's special stuff!)

I stir-fried the onions, spices, and asparagus in the oil for 5 minutes or so, then dumped in the broth, water, and bouillion stuff.  Then I realized I'd forgotten the potato so I quickly peeled and chopped two and threw them in.  This came to a boil, then I turned it down some and let it simmer for 20 minutes, going back out now and again to sniff and stir.

At the end of the simmer, I chopped up the cilantro and dumped it in.  Stirred, put some in bowl, and added about 1/5 cup of heavy cream.

This is quite tasty with a buttered slice of potato bread.

I suspect I'll be making more soup in the near future.  It's becoming as addictive as the rice dishes, and it's often far less work...

~nv

Heating pads

I think I'm going to go out and find myself one of these:

http://www.amazon.com/Health-Home-756-500-Arthritic-Controller/dp/B00006IV4N/ref=cm_cr_pr_sims_i

(If I don't simply order it online, that is.)

Been researching these things because of a foot issue I've been experiencing for over a month now.  My left foot, which has been sensitive to shoe types ever since I forced myself to wear a particular pair of boots in hopes they'd "break in," began getting annoyed with me when we were in the process of moving early last month.  I chalked it up to the additional moving around at the time but then wondered if perhaps it was my new pair of shoes.  I went back to my old shoes and continued feeling this crushing sensation on the left top side of the foot, accompanied by pain on the right anklebone.  It came and went, but I recall a few days in a row where it was particularly bad.  Those days, I could scarely stand on it for the burning sensation that radiated all over the bottom.

That hasn't happened since, but the pain continues off and on.  Yesterday it annoyed me to the point where I got ticked off and walked /con gusto/ in an attempt to will it into submission.  It seemed to help for a time, as did loosening my shoelaces to avoid feeling the ever-so-soft ankle support ram gently but annoyingly into my anklebone, thus exerting undesired pressure on the bone again.  But it soon returned full-force.

This prompted me to research further potential causes.  I still don't know what it could be exactly, but I did learn a few things.  First, it's likely related to the extra load it was under while we were in the process of moving.  Simply carrying heavier-than-usual loads has been known to irritate the tendons, ligaments, and/or bones of a foot because of the extra sudden weight.  I /certainly/ carried a lot of extra weight around for a while there.  Forsooth, I recall my back was unhappy with me several times for this reason.  I never fancied my feet as being similarly irritable, but that particular foot is.

Second, foot injuries can take a particularly long time to heal because it's hard to stay the heck off them.

Third, heat can help speed up healing because it improves blood flow (and thus healing nutrients) to the area.  It seemed to me that my foot was more irritable when cold, whether hurt or not.  Any time I hike in the winter, my feet are sooooo prone to hurting afterwards as though injured.  Wouldn't it stand to reason that cold would irritate an injury, then?

So, I sat here reading, occasionally flexing my foot, and listening to it snap and crack.  Each time, the tension in it lessened a bit.  It didn't hurt today, but it felt as thought something in it was "caught."  You know the feeling, right?  You're walking along, and suddenly feel that overwhelming urge to stretch your legs or feet, and when you do, you feel something crack and snap, seemingly back into place.  That tension can cause pain, too, if it doesn't snap right off.  But my foot still felt sensitive, and very cold.  So I dragged out my heating pad and turned it on under my feet.  OMG the difference... warmth is so nice!!  It didn't seem to eradicate the tension still there, but I figured perhaps it would help heal it faster.

Then it dawned on me that the stiffness in my fingers when they're cold probably isn't good for them, either.  I don't really want arthritis when I'm older.  So, I tried moving the pad under my arm as I moused.  That was nice, too.  Now I want a few of these suckers, preferably withOUT the auto-shutoff, to see if my feet and hands will benefit from the warmth on colder days.

Anywho, 'nuff 'bout my minor stupid health concerns.  I'm going to go find out how to cook asparagus.  Last time I brought home groceries, two bundles of the stuff somehow ended up coming with me.  I wasn't about to go 20 minutes back to return them, and figured the one who bought them would probably return and get more, so the store that packed them in the wrong bag would simply have to eat the cost this time around.  I've not been in the mood to fix someone else's mistakes lately...

In other news, it's raining today.  No garden time for me!

~nv

Wow, and some say /I'm/ smart!!

I'm not /nearly/ as smart as this gal:
http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/24273418/?GT1=43001

Alia Sabur is one cool bean. She was already earning a bachelor's by
age 14. It's not just her intelligence that's impressing me, however
- a lot of smart people are egocentric, intellectual snobs. I like
what I'm reading about her views on what she should be doing in life.
Already she knows what she loves and what she wants most to do - and
she's doing it, not just doing it, but doing it in ways that benefit
others and not just serving her own desires.

She's not just a prodigy. She's also a humanitarian who knows how to
best help both herself and others. THAT is the true gift. The other
gift she has is that her abilities are not only accepted, but embraced
and nurtured.

There are times in my life when I feel so small compared to others I
perceive as giants, but for some reason, her story is inspiring me
rather than crippling my ego. I see places where I fit in, and places
where I don't fit in quite so much, and others where I don't fit in at
all. I've never felt like I truly fit anywhere, even as a "geek" who
found a foothold on her niche. I have no vision when it comes to
knowing where I belong. I only learn from experience. Tried
networking, found it interesting but not for me. Tried hardware,
that's fine, too, but not for me. The only place I keep returning to
is design in some form or another. It's the only place where my
technical skills combine with my creativity to do something that might
be useful to others. In other words, designing applications, that
sort of thing. Making data entry look perty. Putting fields in just
the right flow. I'm good at that it seems.

Anywho, I've gotta jet back to work, but had to spill some of these
thoughts... later laters.

~nv

Garden, part 1.

I've been attempting to plant a garden in our back yard. I got
tomatoes planted yesterday but I highly doubt they'll do well 'cause
I didn't exactly follow directions (how surprising). Then I was
going to plant potatoes but no one had any seed potatoes yet so I ate
a baked potato for breakfast this morning and cursed silently under
my breath about it. Then again it'll be a bit longer before I can
plant them anyway. I've been hoeing for two days now (okay, like,
six hours total) and have more marble debris than I need for the
edging on the garden. The only reason I figured out that I NEED
edging on the garden is due to the abundance of marble fragments in
the soil. There were some pretty big pieces in there, let me tell
you! Still are. I'm not even halfway done from the looks of it. As
I dug in my hoe the first few times, I'd expected some little stones
here and there. Instead, I discovered marble fill. Exciting on the
one hand 'cause some pieces are kinda cool and I feel like an
excavator or a little kid in a sandbox or something, but egads, I
wanted to just plant the garden and be done with it!! There's more
to be said, I think, for playing with the water hose... still,
finding old matchbox cars, figurines, and weird things like very
unhappy wax is pretty fun. I can see, however, why marble is kinda
taken for granted around here.

Anywho, I'm hoping to raise tomatoes, potatoes, green onions,
carrots, peppers, and spinach. I don't have high hopes, mind you,
but that's because I've never gardened before and didn't feel like
figuring out how to test the soil and stuff. I just used my
fundamental knowledge of gardening from various reads: pick a sunny
spot, dig it all up with a hoe, remove big stones (or in my case,
slabs of marble), and then put it all back sans the stones. Then the
soil's all aeratedish and the earthworms can go poop in it easier so
the plants we like to eat have something they like to eat. (Yeah,
ew, but that's nature for ya. Humans ultimately eat worm poo. In
fact, some humans eat the whole worm. Good for them, but I'm not one
of them. I prefer spaghetti.)

The only other stuff about gardening that I know is that you should
fertilize and make sure the soil is properly pH balanced. I don't
mind the fertilizing part but I don't want to put underarm deodorant
on there 'cause I'm trying to grow organically. So, tough cookies on
the pH thing, I say. I'm guessing the sandy marbly poo that's
streaked throughout our yard is adding calcium and/or lime to the
soil, thus alkaline pH. That's enough info for me. I'll just hoe in
some potting soil and call it good. Doubtful I get to grow
blueberries, however.

I saw somewhere that marble chip is $120 per cubic yard down in
Florida... *wonders if anyone wants ours*

~nv

Rude Awakening

I was rudely awakened this morning by my mind. As I lay there, swept
peacefully away in some far off dream with a smile on my lips, I came
to the sudden realization that I was waking up. I fought it,
desperate for just a few more minutes of sleepy reverie. Additional
sleep was being deftly capsized by the swirling sensation of pending
thoughts, however. My eyes opened, spluttering the murky depths of
consciousness, and I saw for the first time the time: 6:01am.

6:01am!!!!!

There was a lot of light sneaking into the room for six o'clock in
the morning. Still, Summer draws near, and thus, so does the longest
day of the year. Still hazy with dreamlife, I figured the clock was
right. So I squeezed tightly my eyes and willed my mind to take a
hike. My body relaxed slightly, appreciating the gesture, and I
sensed that sleep was pending once again. Could it be? Could I have
thwarted my mind this morning, awarding myself additional sleep of
which I am only too thirsty to drink?

I had. My mind was not impervious to the fact that I was still
supine and rather blissfully carefree to the things I could be doing
outside of the comforter's embrace. It rebelled after only a few
moments, but I'd somehow placed it into a rattly cage. The sound of
its complaining cup against the bars kept waking me up further, but
the extra sleep was not lost to me. So, I humoured it slightly and
reflected upon a movie that Dale and I watched last night. It was
called "From Hell" and starred Johnny Depp and some red-haired
woman. Also, Iam Holm, of LOTR-scary-ring-want-it-backer lore. (He
has a knack for looking scary, which scares me. Ha.) Then I tackled
the details of a colleague whom I worked with yesterday. I noted
with immense satisfaction that her eyes had transformed into a
brilliant shade of pale gray as she indulged my questions about her
puppies. I'd seen this shade before when she was amused, and am
always eager to see it again because I know she's feeling happy
rather than stressed. While it was not my intent to affect her mood,
I was still pleased that I had. Her face slowly fading from my
immediate thoughts, I then turned to Dale's image. In real life he
slept peacefully, but in my heart I watched him working on Dante's
new stereo. He was hooking up wires for the harness; sweaty, dirty,
and exhausted in his own right from the lawn work he'd accomplished
beforehand, he was fully willing to assist me with my overdue
project. I smiled and internally hugged him for his efforts. This
felt as though it could be just enough to satiate the caged beast.
Mind having been partially silenced, I teetered on the edge of total
oblivion and braced myself for the pleasant fall. Then my stomach
growled.

My stomach is my mind's starving counterpart. I may very well have
succeeded in my trek towards full sleep immersion were it not for the
rumbling protests of my belly. But now I'll never know for sure.
Understanding the futility of forcing sleep upon the growly beast
when I'm not quite sick or excessively exhausted, I decided to give
in and wake up. My eye cracked open. 6:30am.

Sleep may have been effectively ripped from my body, but the bed's
warmth did not give in so easily. I yawned and permitted a luxurious
stretch, then turned and hugged Dale - this time for real. He made
an unintelligible gutteral sound that sounded vaguely like "thank
you" and promptly resumed his snoring. My breathing was clogged in
my nose, however, and I began feeling claustrophobic, so I pulled
away and focused on pushing air through my nose. This went on for
several minutes as my mind applied salve to its self-inflicted
bruises and began asking questions about all the things I might do
with RapidWeaver and dirt today. The thought of RapidWeaver piqued
my interest, but it wasn't enough. "Perhaps you should go write
about me," quoth my mind, attempting to selfishly feed the fire of
awareness. "I think not," I replied, rather peeved at its inability
to demonstrate tact and patience. "How rude," it murmured. And
then, I was out of bed and this entry was thus born.

Dale is now awake, and has just unceremoniously thrown today's
clothing into a rolling heap upon the stairs. The kitties will
proceed to chase us around the house until they get their breakfast,
Peaches will fall asleep with the day's dawn, and I shall yawn
vigorously in protest of my internal alarm clock despite my
increasingly intriguing interest in RapidWeaver website design and
planting potatoes.

Thus begins my day off.

~nv

Soup

Okay, this one I'm gonna try to jot down. For one bowl of soup (yes,
one serving):

1/4 cup chopped onions
2 TBS olive oil
1 tsp chicken rub seasoning (or thereabouts)
1 TBS lemon grass
2 pressed cloves of garlic (or finely chopped if you don't have a
presseratormajiggy)
1 cup chicken or beef broth
1 tsp lemon juice
half a steak-umm if desired, broken into bite-sized bits
1 tsp soy sauce
1/3 cup chopped scallions
1/3 cup cilantro
1/4 cup dulse

Get a little pot and dump in the onions, olive oil and chicken rub.
Cook at half-way heat, stirring occasionally, until onions are
translucent (this might be what the real cooks call "carmelized" but
I gave up figuring that one out a ways back).

Once translucent onions exist, dump in the lemon grass and garlic.
Usually I press the garlic right into the pot, stir, then go rinse
off the press while it sautees or whatever it does.

Pour in enough broth to barely cover existing mess. Let it come to a
boil. Add a little more broth and let it come to a boil. Add the
rest of the broth and the lemon juice, and let it come to a boil.
This sounds longer than it really is. It actually takes a minute or
two. Once boiling, splash in the soy sauce and put in the steak-
umms. Let it go until steakumms are brown, then you can shut off the
heat and let it sit while you do other stuff.

Arrange cilantro, scallions, and dulse on big ol' plate and put a
little glass bowl in center of it all. Dump in the soup. Have some
birch beer with it if you wish, take a picture, and write a blog.
Don't forget to put the garnishings on the plate into the soup as you
so desire!! :)

Rat names!

They have been named.

Clockwise from top:
Philomenamya (Mya)
Rickitikkitina (Ricki)
Monalisa (Lisa)

Aren't they cuuuuuuuuuuute??

~nv

Something old, something new

Several events this past weekend.

First, Dale's mom spent Saturday night with us.  We'd gone to a show about an hour or so from here and wanted her to hike with us the next day, so she simple came home with us and stayed.

Yesterday being our first anniversary, we had Stan and his wife Michelle over, too, on Sunday.  We showed off the house, went for a hike up West Mountain which is where we got married last year, and served a very late lunch.  I guess it was really dinner.  We had pumpkin bisque (soup) and I made my infamous rice stuff which was at least as good as usual.  (I found the chicken to be dry but the seasonings were pretty good.)  The soup was spectacular.  It was made in the crock pot.  Crock pots are beginning to grow on me more and more.

Anywho, Dale then served us pudding, and everyone went home after resting and digesting a while.  We then made "scotchies" and chocolate chip cookies (LOTS of them) and called it a night.  My feet were killing me.  I really need to figure out what's up with my feet lately.

Yesterday was our actual anniversary so we planned to have dinner at the Sirloin.  Dale went off to work and I went off to Petco to prepare for another adoption:  Two baby rats.  This woman, Kathy, had her rat die months ago and searched high and low for another one.  She ended up with a blue mink hooded variety quite similar to her last one and for some reason decided to breed her with a friend's male, expecting as she'd once had with other rats before, oh, about 5 babies.  She had 18.  EIGHTEEN!!  They were born on March 15th and halfway through the births, Tazer Two (momma rat) decided to walk away.  She'd had enough of that, Kathy told me.  But she finished birthing da pups and then Kathy had to sit there for two weeks making sure they were all nursed because Tazer Two only had so many places for them to sit.  Kathy was tired, I'm sure, but... poor Tazer, that's all I can say!!  I mean, I can respect Kathy for ensuring the little ones' health and survival, but to be mother to 18 little munchkins must have seemed daunting!!  Two babies went with someone on friday and I stopped in yesterday morning to make my picks.

I ended up with /three/ rats and a bag of oranges.  Kathy's very nice, obviously an animal lover, and is interesting to talk to because she knows a little to a lot about everything whether critter-related or not.  Ours is an interesting relationship because I know more about her from talking to her in one day than I do many of my lengthier friendships.  (This could be true for her, too, given that I tend to open up to anyone who will listen, and also have a variety of interests.)  Anywho, the little buggers are cuties for sure.  I've definitively named one "Mya" and think I have two other names picked out for the other two:  Pixie and Trinity.  Not sure yet.  Probably some variations will occur but they *almost* fit so I'm on the right track at least.  I got them home and let them meet the cats... don't worry, they're still with us... and they looked at them like, "Uh... big rats?"  The cats, well... Kitty was appreciatingly appraising the three little tidbits while the younger Sinclair sat there going, "Uh... new playmates?  Or are they gonna be another tease running around in litte balls where I can snag them and get a closer sniff?"  At which point he put an inquiring paw out and got his answer as I swept away the cage lest his claws extend too deeply into a tidbit's side.  Drat, his eyes told me with a hint of strong disappointment, and Kitty just squinted that "I hate you" squint that she's so good at whenever I ruin all her fun.  I'm sure he'll develop that eventually, too.  Sigh.

So I set the ratties down on my desk, walked out to the kitchen to fill their water supply and was smart enough to bring a spray bottle with me.  I saw a flash of tail leap off my desk as soon as I came back in and got two squirts into his fur before he disappeared around the corner.  This warned me that he's finally learned how to sneak around behind my back, so extra caution in the cage setup is warranted because Kitty's stubborn, but is wary enough of me where I wouldn't worry as much about the new critters.  He's still playful enough to not care one iota.  And, I chided myself, Kitty's still a cat who DOES get up on the desk from time to time - you've seen the footprints, after all.  So, yeah, extra caution is definitely warranted.  So for the evening, I left them in their carry cage inside their future tank.  That way the cats would have to get through TWO cages to get to them.  Far less likely.

Before this, however, I let the rats rest a bit from their ordeal, and finally took (Trinity?) out and plopped her on my shoulder.  She seemed well-balanced up there, so she stayed put for about an hour as I sat at the computer keeping watch over her sleepy sisters.  This established, I decided to walk around with her, so I checked on Lancelot once or twice, did some stuff in the kitchen, and talked to my shoulder in hopes of earning both trust and bonding without scaring her too much.  She seemed to take it well.  Dale got home and said, "Uh... oh!  Cute."  LOL

But shortly after I put her back with her sisters, I found that Lancelot, my green anole, had died.  I had an inkling something was seriously wrong a few days ago, but I didn't expect him to go so fast.  He was still eating but he started looking like he wasn't, he was brown a lot of the time since we moved and I thought maybe he was colder since we've kept it cooler in here sans the drafts.  But if that was it, he would have drifted upward toward the heat lamp, and he didn't.  Just last week I took him outside for some sun and he brightened up some, but was still so sluggish despite the interest.  Thought maybe he was homesick or bored or something.  But that was short-lived, too.  I don't know how old he really was, only that he was an adult when I got him and I had him 3.5 years.  (August of 2004.)  Anywho, he died happy.  Saturday, he was so weak that he allowed me to pick him up; he sat on my chest for a while and then suddenly turned bright green and dove into my shirt and ran over my feminine aspect.  Talk about an odd feeling - cold clammy lizard feet on one's chest is one thing but for them to poke into one's bra... that was different.  Dale then mentioned the cold thing again, and I took it more seriously; he thought to put my desk lamp near the tank, shining right into it.  That thing runs pretty hot and has a 60 watter in it so the cage heated up nicely.  Lancie turned bright green, stayed green, ate a bit more, seemed thirstier than usual, and yesterday afternoon sat at the bottom of the cage near the heat for a while sleeping and watching me walk around with the rat on my shoulder.  So, when I discovered that he'd stopped breathing just before we went out to dinner last night, I was a bit surprised but figured if he was green, he was happy, and he was still green when I found him so he must have died happy.  (I won't remind myself that Guin was brown when I found her, otherwise I might draw related conclusions about her last moments and I prefer not to dwell on that.  Selective reasoning, you see.)

Anywho, maybe my boobie made him have a heart attack?  He did make some attempts to mate with me back when I first got him, maybe he thought his dreams had finally come true.  To a human, I've got little in the front, but to a lizard those things could have been mountains...

Rats are sleeping again, and I'll be into work here shortly, gotta catch up on some stuff for a meeting tomorrow.  But then I'm paying taxes and a sewer bill and coming home to bond with the rat trio.  Heh, I sent pictures of them to Dale at work yesterday... I'd told him I was thinking one or two would be good, probably two.  He never noticed that the pictures showed three.  So he gets home, and I have that one on my shoulder.  After his response to this, he asks, "Can I see the other one?"  I'm laughing internally, knowing he hasn't figured out yet that I have THREE, not two, and say "Sure."  So he peers in the cage and his face turns into a state of confused surprise moments before one of feigned perplexity.  "Uh..." he says.  "Wait a minute.  One... two... but, you still have one on your shoulder... one... two...?"  LOL  Good thing I have a cage topper.  LOL

Aight, off to showers I go.  At least I don't have to worry about the heat anymore.  At least, not once the rest of the crickets have died of old age, assuming they're not still reproducing too much in there.  Peaches can stay warm in her shavings and rats live everywhere and cats have fur and warm couches to cuddle into.  We'll be fine now.  Plus, of course, NOW it's warmer outside.  GAH!  Stupid weather.

Loss of Lancelot, but I've got Dale and the kitties and Peachie, and just gained three whimsical little ratties, so life doesn't suck too much.  I will miss him, though.

Wonderful Warmth,

~nv

Huggies and Pampers

My mother used to tell me to "pamper" myself whenever I was in a bad
mood. Well, tonight I was in an awesome mood, but felt like
"pampering" myself anyways.

I got home and met Dale in our new house. Score one! Then I
announced that I was planning a trip to the store up the street to
see if they had any meat for sale. He said he'd come, too. So we
went together. Score two! They had meat!! I selected a strip steak
and we picked up a few other things, too. Score THREE!! I cooked
the food, Dale found some exciting information on creemee machines,
shared it with the store owner, and we sat down to dinner together.
Score four!! Then I realized I should have been having wine with my
steak, as well, you know, red wine and steak are one of the bestest
pairings of any foodstuffs known to (wo)man. So I poured myself a
little glass and enjoyed swishing the stuff around in my mouth in
between bytes of meat and rice. Score FIVE!! This night was really
going good! We then neatened up the kitchen some more, unpacking and
such. The House is really starting to look nice and neat again.
Score SIX!! And finally, I sat down to listen to Carl Doy, write
this, and enjoy a cup of white tea with some chocolate cookies.
Score... seven.

I'm contemplating all these little things that do tend to make me
feel so content in life. I've begun to appreciate the spacious
nature of this House and the well-hidden nature of its contents; the
sparcity of visible items; the many modern amenities it has offered
us such as a dishwasher and ice crusher. Then I looked around my den
and noted with immense satisfaction the little things that are
contributing small effects to the character of the room: the small
writing desk with ink well and dipping pen; the simplicity of the
iMac upon my main desk; the brass bookends on either side of a small
selection of books; the white cabinet with its critters and many
storage areas; the reminiscence of Native American items and the
Medieval touches of others.

The room is most definitely "mine" yet has a classy warmth that even
I can appreciate with great fondness. It's simple, edged with
memorable dreams, stark technical realizations, artsy fartsy
elegance, intellectual intensity, and a subtle sense of homey style.
I've never found myself analyzing one of my own rooms before, but
this one just has such a voice that it cannot go unnoticed!! I've
always had a surreptitious understanding for my most suitable form of
expression, but refused to admit it even to myself until now: I need
a LOT of space!! Okay, maybe it's not always been so difficult to
discern this, but the utter lack of disarray in this one room
demonstrates that yes, I am surely capable of tidiness.

Anywho... off to sleepyland I go...

~nv

Breakfast At Weirditys

Okay, so I admit that I've eaten some weird things for breakfast ever
since I was a child. Still, you have to admit that stir-fried food
is awesome ANY time of the day.

Here we have remnants of the boiled dinner I made last week -
potatoes, cabbage, carrots, onions, and brisket broth - fried to the
point of a sloppy gloppy pile of yum. To its right are two eggs,
scrambled lightly in a pan lightly seasoned with olive oil and
chicken rub. Finally, the easiest masterpiece of them all: Cooked
Jasmine rice, lovingly and quickly pan-fried in more olive oil
seasoned VERY lightly with soy sauce and chili powder, and topped
atop the plate with jarred duck sauce.

Hm. The Irish meets China and a pair of Japanese-themed chopsticks.
Weird. Why can't the rest of the world get along? I should have
made some french toast, dumped some mozzarella in there, threw some
loch on cream cheese and crackers, added a cup of tea, and whipped up
a batch of fry bread whilst pulling the Taco Bell from the fridge.
Talk about multinational... problem is, my stomach isn't quite as big
as the WHOLE world. (Close, but not quite.)

Anywho, on the side I've got some Odwalla green stuff with all the
micronutrients. When I first got into this stuff, Dale thought it
smelled and tasted like grass and he's right to some degree.
Apparently I like grass. Maybe I was a bunny AND a cat in my other
life.

Off to devour my latest.

~nv