Daily Archives : Page 74 of 111 : Fluid Pudding

Our Canine Petty Tyrant

Scout, our Yorkshire Terrier/Shih Tzu daughter, was adopted last May when she was approximately ten weeks old. Scout was adorable and tiny—a lot like Joey’s girlfriend in Season Five of Friends—which was exactly what we were looking for in a puppy. (No. I did not KNOW that Joey’s tiny girlfriend was from Season Five. I looked it up. I was a fan, but with a lowercase f.)

Evidence of Scout’s adorable sass:

A few months after we brought Scout into our house, it occurred to me that the girls were going to return to school soon, and how on earth would I get freelance work done with a cute sassy dog pulling on my shoes? (And my HEART! Because wook at the widdle pahpee!!!)

Anyway. In August, we fell in love with another puppy named Scout, and to avoid confusion we renamed him Henry and paid the fee that enabled us to call him our son/brother.

Henry is a Shih Tzu/Beagle/Brussels Griffon mix. It was estimated that he would top out at twenty pounds, and that was on the edge of Too Big, as we live in a teeny tiny house. (I sometimes have to walk outside just to change my mind! HA HA HA! I’m mostly kidding!) BUT, who could say no to that sweet little face? Not me!!!

Although the first few weeks were spent biting and growling and figuring out who was going to be the boss, it didn’t take long for Scout to realize that she loves her brother.

AND, here we are. Five months later. Scout is now weighing in at a whopping eighteen pounds, and Henry (who I assume is still growing?) weighs 38 pounds! 38 pounds! (Our chat style with Henry has gone from “Who’s a sweet little boy?” to “Henry! Who’s a big boy?! YOU are a BIG BOY!!!”)

Henry has been sleeping in the same crate since the day we got him. It’s entirely too small. Sure, he can duck down and go inside and (barely, just barely) turn around, but I’ve noticed that the nights are growing shorter because he gets uncomfortable all folded up. Also, he spends a LOT of time stretching out when he exits the crate in the morning.

This is becoming a long story, which really wasn’t my intention. Yesterday I was all, “Let me bring you down by singing a song about cancer.” Today? My dogs! Let me tell you about my dogs and what size they are! Oh! It gets better! My kids are participating in the American Heart Association’s Jump Rope For Heart Program. If you want to donate to their personal page, you can go here! They will love you for it! (They tend to not get excited about fundraisers. This one is different. They love this one.)

Back to my story, and let’s pick up the pace! Last week I found a big dog crate online! Free shipping! Thirty dollars off the manufacturer’s suggested retail price! I ordered it for Henry, and it arrived today!

As you can see, Henry was VERY excited about the new crate!

He went in. He came out. He went in again. He came out again. Scout sensed Henry’s excitement and decided to get in on it.

Henry politely asked Scout to cease and desist.

So she killed him.

Seriously. Look at her face!

Jeff’s boss once referred to a particular work situation as a goat rodeo.
I want to have “Goat Rodeo” stenciled on our family room wall. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Cancer and Coding and Sloths and Pizza

As you know, I’m reading a book about cancer cells (and the woman who owned them). These cells have become a bit of an obsession for me—so much that I actually e-mailed my favorite scientist to ask if he has worked with them. (Go back to his website later this week. He’s going to update it! I promise! It’s worth a revisit!) One thing led to another, and he suggested that I queue The Emperor of All Maladies and suddenly I’m reading about cancer on my Nook and I’m reading about cancer on different scientific websites and then I’m reading about cancer on personal blogs and realizing that two people I’ve never met in real life but I feel like I know, along with one person I knew quite a few years back (along with parents of people I know and children of people I know and actual family members of mine) are in or were in different stages of several different types of cancer. And I hate that, because there’s not a whole lot I can do about it, and I like to feel as if I’m In Control.

(I *am* wearing a pink Chuck Taylor Re-Issue today on my right foot (and a pink jacket on my upper half!), but it’s not like I’m actively trying to make people aware of breast cancer. Until right now: Check yourselves, people. And for God’s sake, go get a mammogram. Seriously.)

As Sir said, “It’s important to note that people who don’t get some form of cancer at some point in their lives are the anomalies, not the other way around.”

Also, “Everything is basically conspiring against us, including, unfairly, ourselves. This is because cancer is basically you. It’s your genome that’s mutated, but the 99% of your genes that aren’t mutated are still working normally. It’s that 1% that can be a butt kicker because cancerous mutations often result in molecules that disregulate the cell’s life cycle (cells are supposed to die on a regular basis; cancer cells don’t die). Cancer cells find ways to not die and evolve rapidly to allow it to escape your immune system or chemotherapy or anything else that tries to control it. Perpetually dividing cells aggregate in certain areas and voila! Tumors. Cancer learns and grows and figures things out. It’s like a second grader. ”

It’s like a second grader. The worst possible second grader ever. I remember that kid from when *I* was in second grade. I remember that kid from Meredith’s class last year! I’m already thinking ahead to next year when Harper will be in the second grade. I already have a few names in mind! (I’m terrible. I know.)

Anyway. I’m not sure where I’m going with this other than: Cancer. It’s in my head. Figuratively.

Also in my head? ICD-9 codes. Apparently, my insurance will not cover my bone density test because “827.0 Fracture” is not an approved code. Interestingly enough, “V69.0 Lack of physical exercise” IS approved. If sloth is what I have to go for in order to have 80% of this test covered, then sloth is what it is.

Speaking of sloth, please watch this:

We’re now off to basketball practice, and Jeff returns from San Diego in eight hours.

It’s pizza night. Take care of yourself. Dear Lord. I think this is the most depressing entry I’ve ever put up at Fluid Pudding. Jeff returns from San Diego in eight hours!!! Insert smiley emoticon here with a big sigh of relief over her head! (She’s eating pizza! With raw mushrooms on top!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

With a #2 Pencil to Fill in the Spaces

My Vibe: I’m still sort of cranky, sort of feeling the post-holiday whatevers, but totally excited about the link a friend sent to me on how to make hummus out of sweet potatoes. Stay tuned. Hummus is about to get very interesting at my house.

Turning Pages: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks is a great choice to fit that First Book of 2012 category. I’m about a third of the way in (I read only at night, and I tend to fall asleep with the spunk of a narcoleptic), but I’m loving it. Quantum mechanically speaking, I really do believe that another me is out there being all scientific with test tubes and discoveries. Meanwhile, the me that you know will continue reading about test tubes and discoveries while choosing the best possible dog treats for puppies with sensitive digestive systems. (You can never go wrong if you remember the following: Anti-Corn! Pro-Salmon!) A friend of mine is finishing up with The Hunger Games. I have a feeling I’ll be diving in very soon.

Although it’s Tiresome, My Left Leg: After studying my MRI, the doctor discovered that I have two stress fractures and a banged up peroneal tendon that may be a candidate for a platelet injection. By the way, peroneal and perineal are two very different things, and this particular doctor wants nothing to do with matters of my perineum. Onward! I will most likely be sporting the boot for more than two weeks. This simply means that I have an immediate need for a few more pairs of cheap leggings.

Enough about my leg already. I’m drinking hot apple cider right now. Did you know that? Also, if you’re keeping track of my K-Cup situation, please know that Breakfast Blend has been eliminated from Meredith’s organizational pyramid strategy known as Last K-Cup Standing.

Football: (What? What?!) We’ve been invited to a Super Bowl party. The last Super Bowl party to which we were invited occurred nine years ago. That party was held at a ridiculously swanky loft in the city, and because I was the only person in attendance who was 1. Over 30, and 2. Pregnant, I immediately felt awkward and crabby. After sitting on a stool nervously shoveling large amounts of fancy bean dip into my face and watching a few people actually toying with the idea of DANCING (at a SUPER BOWL PARTY), my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I quickly found Jeff and asked him to take me home. He did. He then returned to the party, and I sat on our couch drinking decaf hot tea and reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and NOT watching the football game and NOT dancing. And everyone was happy.

What I Had For Lunch: Rice with grilled mango, pineapple, and mushrooms.

Thank you for all of your comments and e-mails. I’ve been terrible lately with responding to messages. Let’s start fresh right now, shall we? (I currently have 959 messages in my Inbox. I haven’t touched 42 of them. Have you ever just deleted everything? How does that feel?) Sweet potato hummus! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Bees and the Bedecking of my Blowhole

I absolutely love that most of you remember the spelling word that took you down in elementary school.

The word that Meredith will remember for the rest of her life? Defiantly.

The great news? Meredith finished in third place. (Of course, because she’s just like me, she HATES that she came in third. She’s PISSED that she came in third. This anger will drive her to work extra hard next year.) ((She knew Defiantly. She got nervous and tripped. Many of the other participants did the same thing. In fact, the very first speller missed his very first (and only) word. My heart broke for him.)) (((Confession: I cried before, during, and after the bee. Before? Just seeing Meredith sitting up there with the seven other students did me in. She looked so small. During? When Meredith missed her word and the round ended and everyone cheered for her? It destroyed me. After? When a fifth grade girl correctly spelled her final word and was declared the winner, she immediately began to do the ugly cry. So did I. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I need a prescription.)))

I’m abruptly changing the subject now, because it’s Saturday night and I’m seriously considering having a tiny silver ball pierced into the side of my nose. It just might be the crab rangoon talking (Happy Chinese New Year!), so I wanted to put it out there and see what you think. I just searched out some photos on Flickr, and I’m liking the tininess of this woman’s diamond, but I don’t want a diamond. (I know. I know! Actually, this photo made me take a step back, but now I’ve moved forward again. Because look! And look!)

Meredith has a friend over. The girls are dancing in the front room. Jeff is playing guitar in the dining room. The dogs are running around in the back yard. I’m just sitting around drawing dots on my nose with eyeliner…

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Running on Empty, Jackson Browne

People, the following is all about running and my decrepitness. I am so sorry.

As you know, I started the whole Couch to 5K thing back in September. At the three week mark, I stumbled and messed up my left ankle. I then went through a few months of physical therapy and was cleared to run again during the last week of December. SO, on December 31st I started up again. This past Sunday was my fifth run of the year and although I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary happening during my run, I *did* notice that Monday morning found me having all sorts of crazy pain where my left shin meets the inside of my left knee. (They meet a lot in the kitchen near the Keurig. They also meet fairly often at the Indian restaurant down the street. HA HA HA! Get it?! It’s like they’re friends and not body parts! That’s a funny one!)

I got really angry about the pain yesterday morning when I was scheduled to run again, but couldn’t. I was beyond angry when I went to bed last night, because I’m now off schedule with my Couch to 5K plan. (Please know that I know how ridiculous this is all sounding. Wait! It gets better! I’m about to consult Google for medical advice!) This morning I typed all of my pain information into Google (See? I told you!), and Google and I believe that I have posterior shin splints. Google gave me a kiss on the forehead and told me that it’s probably because of my flat feet coupled with the fact that I’ve been quite sloth-like, and this new Running Every Other Day thing is shocking my lower half.

I remembered that the guy who fitted me for my running shoes also wanted me to buy inserts, but I didn’t buy them. My migraine doctor (who is a runner) also told me to get the inserts. But I didn’t. (Apparently, I don’t take advice unless I’m limping.)

This morning I drove to the running store and asked the nice young man to hook me up with some inserts. As he untied my shoes, I sang to him about my woes.

Me: …something about a sprained ankle and three months later I’m cleared and now my leg is all screwed up where my knee meets my shin on the inside…

Him: Where are you running?

Me: I run at the J. It’s an indoor track.

Him: Well, there’s part of the problem. That’s a tiny track!

Me: It takes twelve laps to make a mile.

Him: You’re like a car driving at 60 miles per hour, and then making 90 degree turns every 15 seconds!

Me: I know!

Him: AND, chances are, if you’re going every other day, you’re mainly running in the same direction every time!

Me: Preach it!

Him: If the track is flat and you’re doing all of that turning and your body isn’t used to running, you’re on the road to disaster.

Me: Are you trying to make me cry?!

Him: What sort of program are you using for your running?

Me: It’s a Couch to 5K app.

Him: Those are really good if you know what you’re doing, but if you’re a beginner and all you’re getting is “Walk! Okay, now…RUN! NOW WALK AGAIN! RUN!!! WALK!!!”, it’s really not that great of a program.

Me: I HAVE NO IDEA IF I’M RUNNING CORRECTLY! I ONCE ASKED MY HUSBAND TO GO WITH ME TO WATCH, BUT THEN I GOT EMBARRASSED BECAUSE HE WAS WATCHING ME!!!

Him: We offer a program. It’s one hundred dollars, and it goes from March 28th until June 2nd. It meets weekly, and you get the benefit of a personal trainer who talks to you about technique, hydration, and the importance of warming up and cooling down.

Me: Warming who and cooling what?!

Him: PLUS, you get to run with people who are at the same exact level as you.

Me: I hope they’re not terribly pretty or chatty. I also hope they want to go out for mozzarella sticks afterwards.

Him: They meet at Creve Coeur Lake.

Me: That’s embarrassingly close to my house.

So, there you go. I’ve been sidelined again (I’ve been told that shin splints should take less than two weeks to clear up) for the time being, but it looks like I have the springtime option to run around a lake with a group of people who aren’t any better than me! Definitely something to consider. I cannot even begin to express how discouraging my 5K journey has been. (I hate it when people talk about their journey, by the way. And here I go, being all “My 5K Journey” and crap. I’m exasperating!) I *will* run a stinking 5K with my sister (Unless I have bone cancer and have to have both legs removed. Google briefly mentioned that while I was doing my research, but I told him to settle down.), and I *will* do it before August.

(Unless, of course, I don’t. BUT, I’m sort of impressing myself with this newfound fortitude action. The sprained ankle didn’t bring me down. The physical therapy didn’t bring me down. The shin splint weirdness isn’t bringing me down. I’m a runner living in the body of someone who is not a runner! I need an exorcism in reverse. Or something similar! (Mozzarella sticks sound really good, too.)) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It’s not you, it’s me! Grab a pillow. I’m about to make you very sleepy!

Today is a good day, because the only events for which I need to leave my house are: Get Gas and Take Kids to Piano Lessons. Get Gas is normally paired up with Create Gas Station Cherry Vanilla Diet Dr. Pepper, and Piano Lessons always means One Hour of Knitting. So, despite the fact that I need to put some work into our downstairs office (we’re getting a new water meter tomorrow!), my day will be broken up with good things.

Speaking of knitting, I’m on the edge of starting one of these for myself. The shawl in the photo was knitted by Tempe, and I believe I need one in black. With beads. I’ve been all over the place with knitting lately, mainly because I have less than six things on my For Other People list. I didn’t knit one thing for myself during 2011. I’m going to try to make up for that this year!

My book club is now reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. Have you read it? I really need to spend less time watching Cary Grant movies and more time reading. (I attended our book club meeting yesterday, and had read only 50 pages of the book. I actually had the audacity to blame Cary Grant for my inability to finish it. This is unacceptable.)

Last week I mentioned that I feel a huge wave of introversion coming on, and I received a few messages that offered up some introversion high fives. Thanks for that! To explain a bit further where I’m coming from, we all know that I deal with a bit of anxiety in social situations, and my cocksure shoes can carry me only so far. My introversion is separate from my social anxiety. My introversion nearly always results from me starting to feel a bit flummoxed by others. (I know! If you can’t relate to this, it sounds so ridiculous! I get that!) The gossip bores me. The not-so-genuine laughter tends to affect me the way a perfume counter affects me. I start over-analyzing the intentions of others. I could go on and on (and on! et cetera!). When I start feeling this way, there’s nothing I enjoy more than sitting on my couch by myself and knitting. Or sitting at my computer by myself and pumping out some freelance work. I still shower and wear clean clothes, but I tend to not leave my house or answer the phone, and I’m 100% content to simply be alone. I know. This entire paragraph is sort of bananas. It gets better: I also avoid grocery stores that don’t have self-checkout lanes. AND, I’ve been known to leave a grocery store if the self-checkout lanes aren’t open! If I worked in an office, I would be the lady who cries in the parking lot because she can’t stomach the thought of water cooler banter. (I used to be that lady. Lady. Why does Lady look so odd to me right now? Lady. Lady. Lady.)

I’m hoping that when this particular bout is over, I’ll have a lovely lace scarf to show for it. And a new water meter! Let’s talk about something else!

Oh no! This is no more interesting than that: After one week, I’m 2.5 pounds into my ten pound weight loss gig. How do I do it? I just do it. There’s really no other way. Move more, eat fewer cookies, drink water. Sure, the Weight Watchers notebook comes in handy so I can remember just how many Ritz crackers I’ve eaten (ten is fine. an entire tube is not so great.), but I refuse to actually attend meetings (I do love the meetings) unless I’m at my goal weight. (I’ve given Weight Watchers a lot of money. If I’m at my goal weight, I don’t have to pay.) I realize that sounds sort of backwards, but it works.

Harper had her first basketball game on Saturday, and during the game it really hit me that Harper and I are the same person. For the past several days, I’ve been encouraging her to try harder both at practice and at the game. I’ve said things like, “Don’t worry about making baskets. It’s a team sport! Concentrate on passing and dribbling and blocking the other team! Give it 100% so you can walk away feeling awesome about how your team played!” During the game, she spent most of her court time playing with her hair and distancing herself from everyone. She had the best time sitting on the bench and drinking water. Afterwards, she reported that she was really nervous.

Perhaps I should teach her to knit lace.

Oh no. You’re bored, and it’s my fault. Hrm. I’m looking forward to having Chinese food on Wednesday! Also, I’m going to be watching North by Northwest this evening! (Ack! See Paragraph 3!) AND, I’m going to try making spaghetti squash! (I had some at a friend’s house last week, and it was incredible.) Lace shawls! Lace shawls!!!

Edited to Add: A huge thank you to Robin for sharing this article. It sums it up perfectly. PERFECTLY. I need a shirt that says, “Hell is other people at breakfast.”

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Peter Frampton and Shoes – Peter Frampton + A Touch of Anxiety

When Jeff goes out of town, I tend to be a really great parent for about three days. After the third day, I get tired and cranky and “IF YOU CAN’T HELP YOUR SISTER, THEN I CAN’T HELP YOU!!!” Bedtimes go from 8:00 to 7:45 to 7:30 when Jeff is out of town. Today is Day Five of Jeff being out of town, and I’m spent. He’ll be home tomorrow. He’ll be home tomorrow. He’ll be home tomorrow.

High five to all of the single parents out there. I honestly have no idea how you do it without help from others. It takes a village and all of that, I suppose.

I could sing songs about all of the things that went wrong yesterday, but songs about dogs needing to be lifted over a bad fence and Couch to 5K applications updating unexpectedly and kids fighting instead of practicing the piano? Yep. Those songs don’t travel very far.

I remember being a kid and hearing this song for the first time. I think it’s the very first song that really affected me. (The piano. Ahhh, the piano.) Thirty years later, and the song is still traveling with me. (It has absolutely nothing to do with dogs and fences and kids. Oddly, it has everything to do with practicing the piano.)

Ah, but there was a “scars into stars” moment yesterday evening.

The UPS guy stopped by with a box from Zappos! This is definitely my new favorite pair of shoes. (They take the place of my favorite pair that I purchased a few months back, which replaced the favorite pair I purchased last year. Here’s my analogy: Gymnastics in 2012 are totally different than gymnastics in 1976. The flips are wilder. The beam routines are more dangerous. Gymnastics in 2042 are going to be preposterous. There is no time for laziness or backstepping. I cannot jump over a horse or bend myself into unnatural angles in order to fly onto a high bar. Therefore, I try to seek out cute shoes that I feel won’t trick me into falling down, and then I outshoe myself. Are you with me?)

Best of all, with green Mary Janes on my feet, my soles will be bouncing.

This is vital right now, as I feel a HUGE wave of introversion coming on. (It always hits in January.) With a bouncing sole, I won’t feel quite so guilty about staying home.

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The Hodge and the Podge

The worst paper cuts come from pizza boxes. I know this because Jeff is out of town, and when Jeff goes out of town, we tend to indulge. When there’s a fresh pizza in the house, I often cannot open that box quickly enough. (I’m currently sporting a Donald Duck Band-Aid on my right middle finger.)

This morning I finished up my first redo week of Couch to 5K, and I’m hating it just as much as I hated it three months ago. My goal is to run a 5K sometime around my 42nd birthday, which is in May. 42 is one of my favorite numbers, so I’m feeling fairly confident that the birthday 5K won’t kill me. (I don’t believe in irony.)

This evening for dinner I grilled a portobello mushroom with some fresh spinach and plopped them onto an English muffin with some Colby Jack cheese and horseradish mustard. It was the best thing I’ve eaten in quite some time, and it added up to only seven points. Yes. I’m doing the Weight Watchers thing again. I love/hate it, and it always works for me when I do it the right way.

I’m knitting my first project from my handspun yarn.

It will eventually be a pair of fingerless mitts.

I’ll keep you updated. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Guacamole Funna Do

I don’t make resolutions. I toy with plans.

When 2012 hits, I’m going to toy with the following:

1. Wear these shoes. (Okay. I ordered them last night. I plan on matching them up with skirts in the spring.)

2. Knit something or other, spin something or other, and take on more freelance projects.

3. Dance like someone’s watching.

4. Cry when Drew Barrymore cries.

5. Drink just as much water as coffee. I want two cups of coffee? Okay then, as long as it’s followed with two cups of water! Live long and prosper, kidneys.

6. Run. Or walk. Or just do something. Less time behind the computer. More time outside.

7. See what this whole Foster the People thing is all about.

8. Lose ten pounds. (I always do this in January. I have no self-control in November and December.)

9. Donate and/or toss enough stuff to help us reach the “Yes. Our house can now go on the market.” stage of moving forward.

10. Learn to say No when I want to say No instead of kicking myself for NOT saying No.

11. Choose two of the following three: Read More, Write More, Do More Math.

12. Dim Sum?

13. Go to the gym at least ten times OR bake biscotti twice.

14. Vote for whomever Matt Damon tells me to vote for. (Vote for whomever Matt Damon tells me for whom to vote.)

EDITED TO ADD: Oh! Wait. I would also like to hold a baby monkey. I have no idea how to make that happen. Does anyone out there have a baby monkey I could hold? Does Matt Damon have a baby monkey? Because: Killing two birds with one stone and all. (Figuratively.) Happy New Year to you. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I was going to make a Chernobyl joke, but it’s still too soon.

I’ve been doing a lot of this lately:

In the past five days, I’ve watched four Cary Grant movies. I started out with An Affair to Remember, next up was People Will Talk, then The Grass is Greener, and Walk, Don’t Run. I started Charade last night and will probably finish it this evening. The bowl you see in front of the screen isn’t for ice cream or coffee (or circus peanuts or cubes of cheese or Swedish Fish or wasabi peas). It’s a bowl that Gina made (she’s a potter!), and it keeps my yarn from falling off of the computer stand. It’s brilliant. Let me show it to you.

The side of the bowl has a spiral slit. You pass the yarn through the slit, and that allows the ball of yarn to spin and flop all over inside the bowl, but it never pops out onto the floor!

(I’m currently working with brown alpaca yarn. I’m making one of these hats for the sister of the lady who cuts my hair. Crazy, am I right? I’m not! I am.)

Anyway, when Gina first asked what I thought of yarn bowls, I mentioned that one of the local yarn stores carried them and although I really liked them, I couldn’t quite get past the cutesy sheep painted in the center of their bowls.

When Gina’s bowl arrived, she included something awesome just for me.

Once again, I love (all but one of) the people who stop by Fluid Pudding. (Don’t worry. It’s not you. And it’s not ewe, either! Ha ha Ha HA HA!!! (I’ve been drinking.) ((No I haven’t.)))

By the way, as soon as the hat is finished, I’m going to get started on this sweater. For myself! In that same exact color! (Do you think I should add three or four inches to the length, or should I focus more on losing five or ten pounds? I really love the Trader Joe’s Milk Chocolate Covered Potato Chips!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>