My dog Bill recently had some surgery so he's wearing one of those e-collars, or as we call it around here, The Cone of Silence. He has to wear this damned thing for two weeks.
Day two of the CoS he mastered coming up behind me and clipping me in the calves with it. I have bruises all long the back of my legs. He's done it so many times now I think the bruises are going to be permanent.
So the radio station I listen to (Star 98.7, if you care) is giving away Dave Matthews tickets and Train tickets. I would be more than happy to win either one. But I can't.
Not because no one you know ever actually wins things from the radio. Not because in my entire 43 years of life I've never won anything from a radio station, and I can assure you it was not for lack of trying in (in 1975 I answered the phone, "WPLJ Rocks" for six straight months on the off-chance that I'd be the lucky listener they'd call and I'd win a million bucks).
No, I CAN'T win because my husband works for a tiny itsy bitsy little division of the mega-conglomerate media monster that owns my local radio station (and 99% of the other radio stations on the planet) thus rendering me ineligible.
It just sucks to be me sometimes.
I made an executive decision this evening and removed Bill's cone. The vet said two weeks. It's been 10 days. Enough is enough. I can't take any more bruising.
As a regular part of my job I sent e-mails to staff letting them know about stuff that is going on facility-wise, i.e., painting, electrical work, etc.
The thing is, in response to these mundane notifications I get a slew of e-mails from people flexing their "comedy" muscles. The other thing is, these people are not all that funny or clever.
Following is a glimpse into the mental illness of the people I work with:
-----Original Message-----
From: Beth
Sent: Friday, June 06, 2003 3:06 PM
To: All LA Office Staff
Subject: Chair Arm Replacement
Due to an improvement in materials technology, all the arms for all the XXX chairs in the LA office are going to be replaced. This project will run Monday and Tuesday, June 9 and 10. A representative from XXX will take your chair from your work area and give you a "loaner" chair for the few minutes it takes to change out the arm assembly. I hope to make this process as unobtrusive to all of you as possible.
If you have any questions, please feel free to e-mail me.
Beth
In response, I got this e-mail, from one of our vice presidents:
Reminds of the scene in Apocalypse Now where Brando relates how the Viet Cong, minutes after the American troops had inoculated village children for polio, came in and hacked off the inoculated arms.
So, my Akita, Suki, suffers from a variety of skin ailments. A recent mega-buck trip to the vet confirms that she is allergic to flea bites. Not just scratch and itch irritated, but big open sore allergic.
This resulted in prescriptions for steriods, antihistimines, and antibiotics. Ka-ching.
Also, the Front Line I was using on her was not sufficient. For her particular situation Advantage is a better choice. OK, so off to petmeds.com I go and order it.
As back story, after the vet visit, Suki paid a visit to the groomer where she was bathed, had skin/coat conditioning treatments, and was shaved.
Now on with our story.
So I apply the Advantage to her semi-freshly bathed and sheared coat the night before last.
Well, yesterday I worked late and left Chuck in charge of Zoe and her friend Katy (who was over for a sleepover). I get home 9-ish and notice something odd about Suki's coat. She's got a blue-ish tinge right around where I've applied the Advantage. Great...she's allergic to this and has had some freakish reaction requiring hundreds of dollars in vet bills. In my best Scarlett O'Hara imitation I decide to deal with it "tomorrow".
This morning was tomorrow and I decide I better check this out more thoroughly. Well, while walking to the kitchen from my bedroom I look out the back door and notice huge blue patches of coloring on the back patio. Blue sidewalk chalk. I give Suki a closer look and realize what the weird blue patch on her back is. The girls colored on the dog.
Blue sidewalk chalk. On. The. Dog.
My building has nine levels of subterranean parking with approximately 500 spaces per level. There are several ways to get down to each level and it is very confusing.
I have worked in this building for almost eight years now. For those eight years I have parked my car on the same level in one of about five different spots, all in the same general area.
This morning for some reason I'm still not sure of, I parked on a different level in a completely different area. Feeling madcap I suppose.
I hope I can find my car when I leave tonight.
Today was the last day of school for Zoe. Second grade is over. We're on to 3rd in the fall.
Through some informal surveying I've discovered that almost all adults clearly remember the 2nd grade. They remember their teacher's name. And most everyone loved the 2nd grade. I know I did. My teacher was Mrs. Crespi and the biggest honor was being the student who got to put her street shoes in her locker and give her the pristine white Keds she kept in her locker and wore in class every day. I loved Mrs. Crespi.
Zoe's teachers were Shar (pronouced Cher and I still don't get that) and Casey. They were two of the greatest teachers I've had the pleasure to have known. Zoe loved them. So did I.
I was a room mom for her class this year. This mostly involved collecting money for teacher gifts, organizing parties, and baking stuff. (I baked two dozen cupcakes for class today.)
I got to Zoe's class at about 10:45 this morning to pass out teacher gifts and just hang out with the kids for their last morning. At about 11:45 everyone started to say their goodbyes and I found myself getting very emotional about it.
This was a pivotal year for not only my daughter, but all her classmates. All the things they've learned to this point are starting to gel. They get it. They can all read now. They can tell time. They can write. They can spell. They can create stories and images and put it all together. It's been an amazing year.
I'm going to miss the 2nd grade.
My husband is home today. I am at work. He has called me twice to see if I know where things are at home. Does anyone else think this is absurd?
People with ugly feet and/or bad pedicures should not be allowed to wear open toed shoes.
Also, if your little toe hangs off the edge or flails around outside the straps of your sandle--it's not a good footwear choice.
So we went to see Finding Nemo today. Chuck and Zoe saw it originally opening weekend. They both loved it. Chuck wanted me to see it.
It inspired Chuck to once again take an interest in our reef tank.
Here's the thing about this reef tank of ours. Chuck decided a long time ago that he really wanted a reef tank. As with all things Chuck, he chewed on it for a while, researched, shopped around, forgot about it for a while, remembered about it, researched, made grandiose plans, shopped around, and then finally got one.
A 65 gallon reef tank. That's saltwater. Live rock. Live sand. Lots of creepy creatures that clean things. And fish.
My whole thing when he got the tank was plausible deniability. Yes, I knew the tank was there. But I wanted nothing to do with it beyond occasionally feeding the creatures when he was out of town.
Then he kind of lost interest in the tank. That combined with the fact that he was out of town a lot, led to the rapid decline of our tank. Because with a reef tank you need to keep up with it. Regular water changes, cleaning the filters, adjusting the skimmer, other fish tank-related stuff.
Anyway, the tank got really gross. Slime covered the front glass. It got so bad you couldn't even see into the tank. We had vague discussions of getting rid of the tank.
Then Chuck saw Finding Nemo. Then something happened to me and all of a sudden I was all about the freakin fish tank.
Chuck did some water changes. We went and bought a new skimmer. We took all the rock out of the tank and scrubbed it free of all the brown and purple slime that covered it. Chuck scrubbed the front of the tank. He did some more water changes. He got the old skimmer working. We ordered a new "cleaning crew". We got some new fish. We already had a clown fish (like Nemo and Marlin). We got a blue tang (like Dorrie). The tank looks beautiful.
Then we saw this movie. A really good movie. I want to take all our fish back to the ocean.
Well, Zoe lost another tooth this evening. I suppose more accurately I should report that she yanked out another tooth this evening. She's gotten quite good at getting those loose little buggers out. I made her leave the kitchen to finish this disgusting and very bloody task.
When I went to fulfill my obligations as tooth fairy I found the following note (transcribed exactly).
Envelope (decorated with nail polish and sparkles) addressed: to the tf
Hi my name is Zoe what is your name. my name is _____. I have to dogs, 4 cats, 6 fish the one that is in my room is a fiting fish. It is a boy. Oh are you a boy or a girl. ______. I had my toth this morning. Rite me a letter too. from Zoe to tF.
In case you're wondering, the tooth fairy is named Lloyd and naturally he's a boy. I filled in the appropriate blanks in her letter.
Lloyd wrote Zoe the following:
Dear Zoe,
Thank you for the nice letter.
I do not have any pets because I travel too much for my job. I have to go all over the world collecting teeth.
Don't forget to brush!
Love,
Lloyd (tooth fairy tf)
P.S. Thank you for all the teeth.
And she got a dollar with her letter.
Man, sometimes it's just so great being a parent!
On what planet is a Chevy Suburban a compact car?
My husband suggests that the prior entry was unclear.
OK, so I'm at Norstrom today. I pull in the parking lot. In a spot marked very clearly COMPACT CAR ONLY is a Chevy Suburban. It was in about 2 spots to be more precise.
You see this kind of thing in LA all the time.
What's up with that?
A couple of years ago for our wedding anniversary Chuck and I got tattoos. I mean, what do you get for the couple that has everything, right? Body art seemed a brilliant plan.
I knew what I wanted. I wanted a kanji symbol on the inside of my right forearm. I wanted prosperity, but when we got to the tattoo parlor they didn't have it. Then I picked harmony. It seemed an appropriate sentiment for ones wedding anniversary.
So that was two years ago.
I've always been vaguely suspect about my tattoo. In my heart I feared that it said Stupid Round Eye. But it is very pretty and I decided that it meant what I wanted it to mean, which was harmony.
Fast forward to about a 18 months ago. I was in a Japanese restaurant with some friends. I asked the waiter about my kanji. He couldn't read it. He then had the sushi chef and two other waiters come over and look. They all mumbled something and then one volunteered that it was an old style of writing and that they thought it was a number or something.
Then super fast foward to two weeks ago. I was in my Orange County office with the man who does millwork for me, Mr. Lee. Mr. Lee is from Burma and speaks and reads five different dialects of Chinese. He saw my tattoo, apparently for the first time. He said it was beautiful, and that it means two coming together as one. I told him that it was supposed to say harmony.
And it does.
Today marks my 8th wedding anniversary. So of course that means my husband is out of town.
Here's the deal: I love my husband, with all my heart.
It's be a tough road these last couple of years. I would say years six through seven and a half actually. Some ups, lots of downs, but I don't think I would trade him or those tough times for all the tea in China. Growing and changing are hard and painful, but when you can do it with someone you love, the payoff is worth so much more.
In my previous life as a journalizer I wrote two entries that still mean a lot to me...the first talks about "our song". I still to this day think it's the moment I knew I loved Chuck. The second recounts his proposal to me, on the occasion of our fourth wedding anniversary. How often do you hear the response to the words "will you marry me" being "fuck you"?
I love you honey. Thank you for being my husband, lover, and friend. Happy Anniversary.
I met some friends at Bob's Big Boy for dinner tonight. More aptly I should say that we converged at Bob's Big Boy for a kid swap. My friend Kelly picks up our kids at camp every afternoon and then I pick up Zoe from her house. The locale of the evening kid swap was changed because it's Car Night at Bob's and her finacee is big into cars.
There were Packard's, Studebaker's, GTO's, and all manner of supp-ed (?) up customized cars and lots of motorcycles. And there was a couple on a pair of Segway's.
I so want one.
I chatted with the husband of the couple about it. He offered Zoe a ride. She got on, he got on behind her. She tooled around the parking lot. She's a natural. We'll just say that W's got nothing on my kid. He fell off his. She took to it like a fish to water.
I'm still pouting because I never got offered a ride.