So yesterday I was out on the deck filling litter boxes and I looked over into the next door neighbor's driveway and saw a small kitten very close to the road. Cars were whizzing past like crazy. I panicked, because the baby was asleep in the house, and I had no idea how I was going to manage this one. I stared a few moments and then ran inside. I grabbed the baby and put her in the bedroom, praying she wouldn't wake up and start screaming. I crated the dogs, and then grabbed every cat I could find and then put them in the back bedroom. I then put on shoes and ran next door, only to be ready and willing to rescue a large pine cone.
That pine cone could have been in serious danger you know.
I think I should start wearing my glasses regularly.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
And another piece of my past bites the dust
http://www.courierpostonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061010/BUSINESS/610100333
I started working at Tower Records in 1990, and worked there until 1992. I helped build this store before it opened. We put racks together, stocked all of the shelves, and told a lady to go away when she walked into the middle of the construction and asked if we sold batteries. Um, hello, do you or do you not hear hammering and see sawdust?
This was the store that said, on all of its printed invoices, that we were open 368 days a year. We always wondered where the other 3 days were. We could account for leap years, but what about the other 2 days?
This was the store where, one night in late December at 11:45pm, a woman approached me and asked me if we would have extended holiday hours. I asked her since we were open until midnight every day anyway, what the fuck did she want?
One day in mid-summer the management team (of which I was a member) bought a bunch of water pistols at Kiddie City next door and ran around the back employee area squirting the daylights out of each other. I thought I would be smart and run into a closet to hide. My general manager locked me in.
We had a kid named Omar Hassan who worked in the classical department, and he was going to school to become an engineer. He brought falafel with him for dinner one night, his mom packed his dinners for him, and I walked in to find him eating a small container of plain yogurt with a spoon. He was making faces, and he told me that for some reason his mom had sent yogurt for dinner. I told him the yogurt was supposed to go on the falafel. He was amazingly embarrassed. I adored Omar. I'll never forget how he had no idea how to use a manual can opener, and how he was so ticklish that you could stand in another room and make tickle motions at the window and he would collapse into giggles.
And this is where my friend Mike, bass player extraordinaire and ex-love of my life, has worked for over 15 years, and I wonder what the hell he'll do now.
I started working at Tower Records in 1990, and worked there until 1992. I helped build this store before it opened. We put racks together, stocked all of the shelves, and told a lady to go away when she walked into the middle of the construction and asked if we sold batteries. Um, hello, do you or do you not hear hammering and see sawdust?
This was the store that said, on all of its printed invoices, that we were open 368 days a year. We always wondered where the other 3 days were. We could account for leap years, but what about the other 2 days?
This was the store where, one night in late December at 11:45pm, a woman approached me and asked me if we would have extended holiday hours. I asked her since we were open until midnight every day anyway, what the fuck did she want?
One day in mid-summer the management team (of which I was a member) bought a bunch of water pistols at Kiddie City next door and ran around the back employee area squirting the daylights out of each other. I thought I would be smart and run into a closet to hide. My general manager locked me in.
We had a kid named Omar Hassan who worked in the classical department, and he was going to school to become an engineer. He brought falafel with him for dinner one night, his mom packed his dinners for him, and I walked in to find him eating a small container of plain yogurt with a spoon. He was making faces, and he told me that for some reason his mom had sent yogurt for dinner. I told him the yogurt was supposed to go on the falafel. He was amazingly embarrassed. I adored Omar. I'll never forget how he had no idea how to use a manual can opener, and how he was so ticklish that you could stand in another room and make tickle motions at the window and he would collapse into giggles.
And this is where my friend Mike, bass player extraordinaire and ex-love of my life, has worked for over 15 years, and I wonder what the hell he'll do now.
Friday, October 06, 2006
A Dingo Ate My Rice Sock
Well, Ginny ate the rice anyway.
I made a rice sock for Livvie's belly today. She's had tummy issues for the past couple of days, and other than the glycerin suppositories, which I'll get to in a minute, all I could think of was to make her a rice sock. I decided to do this in the living room, since that's where the baby was. I naturally got rice all over the floor. And Ginny, who will eat Anything That Is Not Celery, snarfed up every grain she could find. Still is, because I'm too freaking tired to haul out the Dyson.
Back to the suppositories. Yay, right? Poor Livvie was constipated. Constipated infants are NOT happy, and hence NO ONE is happy. I sent my sweet, wonderful husband to the drug store where he purchased infant sized suppositories. He brought them home, and I proceeded to do the hardest thing I've ever done, which was deliberately make my daughter uncomfortable. Granted, the result was wonderful, she's happy, we're happy, everything is quiet now, but for about 3 minutes there I felt like Mengele.
I made a rice sock for Livvie's belly today. She's had tummy issues for the past couple of days, and other than the glycerin suppositories, which I'll get to in a minute, all I could think of was to make her a rice sock. I decided to do this in the living room, since that's where the baby was. I naturally got rice all over the floor. And Ginny, who will eat Anything That Is Not Celery, snarfed up every grain she could find. Still is, because I'm too freaking tired to haul out the Dyson.
Back to the suppositories. Yay, right? Poor Livvie was constipated. Constipated infants are NOT happy, and hence NO ONE is happy. I sent my sweet, wonderful husband to the drug store where he purchased infant sized suppositories. He brought them home, and I proceeded to do the hardest thing I've ever done, which was deliberately make my daughter uncomfortable. Granted, the result was wonderful, she's happy, we're happy, everything is quiet now, but for about 3 minutes there I felt like Mengele.
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