Fairy Tale, Corrected

My husband just sent me one of those forwarded emails with a funny story. He doesn't do this too often, but in light of the recent discovery of the feminist fairy tales book, he thought it appropriate. Perhaps you have seen it already.

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Once upon a time in a land far away, a beautiful, independent, self-assured princess happened upon a frog as she sat contemplating ecological issues on the shores of an unpolluted pond in a verdant meadow near her castle.

The frog hopped into the princess' lap and said: " Elegant Lady, I was once a handsome prince, until an evil witch cast a spell upon me. One kiss from you, however, and I will turn back into the dapper, young prince that I am and then, my sweet, we can marry and set up housekeeping in your castle with my mother, where you can prepare my meals, clean my clothes, bear my children, and forever feel grateful and happy doing so. "

That night, as the princess dined sumptuously on lightly sautéed frog legs seasoned in a white wine and onion cream sauce, she chuckled and thought to herself:

I don't fuckin' think so.

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It's a sad day here, mourning Seymour, and this made me smile. I hope you smiled, too.

Rest in Peace, Seymour

Our kitty died this evening.

Today was very hard. I felt like he really started to suffer today and it was hard to figure out how to help him. I spent a good amount of time just holding him, and I made sure the kids did the same. Finally this evening, when my husband and I arrived home, we spent a few minutes with Seymour together, then looked at each other and knew it was time to end the pain. The vet's office was kind, and my favorite of the two vets was there to help us.

M is taking it really hard. The two of them had a special little bond. M couldn't eat dinner tonight, and his sweet eyes are so swollen. We're letting M fall asleep in our bed tonight. But before lights out we made a list of M's favorite things about Seymour:

• He was ours and we loved him
• He purred a lot
• He licked everyone like a puppy
• He ate his food and drank his water with his paw
• He would try to swat at the dog from behind the gate
• He tried to sneak out of the house a lot in the summer
• He'd sometimes relax in the bathtub
• He had green-gold eyes
  
• He'd sometimes drink water from the fish bowl
• He absolutely demanded scratches
• His favorite places were Mom and Dad's bed and Mom and Dad's closet.

I hope our big smudge of a kitty is playing in the fields of kitty heaven right now, basking in warmth. We miss him.

A Sister Story

I've been considering for a while which, if any, of the stories about my sister I should tell. Until I mentioned her infidelity and weird comments over M's birthday, I was mostly adhering to my policy of not talking about her (or any family member).

Recently my sister and her oldest son (21) had a huge fight. Apparently my nephew left in great haste, vowing not to speak to her again. My sister was very upset about this and told me some of the things my nephew said. He said some pretty horrible things.

I sensed however, that she had not given the whole story.

I talked to my nephew a few days later, and he told me some things my sister said to him. Goodness. Mothers aren't supposed to be so nasty to their sons. What she said to him trumps what he said to her.

My sister has this special skill of being able to say the things that hurt you the most in the heat of an argument. Really, the stuff that cuts to your core insecurities. That's what she did to my nephew that night.

She's done it to me, too, of course. The argument between the two of them has me thinking about something that happened way back in 1994, on Thanksgiving.

My husband and I were out west, visiting family for the holiday. Everyone was on top of this mountain in the southern part of the state, staying in cabins. My brother had arranged it all, and our family was meeting his soon-to-be fiance's family for the first time. Oh, what an impression we made.

It was also a few days before my sister's 40th birthday. In retrospect, I can see some mid-life crisis playing into the situation.

A couple weird things happened before the dinner even began. My sister was acting strangely about the telephone and was mad there was no long distance service on it. At one point she confronted me about how I had made a call to check my answering machine back east. I said I had used my calling card, and she stood there, waiting for me to offer it to her. I sensed something weird, so I didn't. Later I learned she was in the midst of her first affair and wanted to call her boyfriend. I'm SO glad I wasn't party to that.

Once we all sat down to eat, my brother, husband, his girlfriend (now wife) and I were at one end of the table. Various people were in between. My dad, his wife and my sister were at the other end. At some point, my sister started laying into my dad about how he loved the other kids (my brother, me) more, how he never did anything to help her, how much he has intentionally hurt her over the years, and so on. Totally and utterly ridiculous. Besides we were adults, and it was long since past time to just get over it already.

I heard what was going on, and I was really uncomfortable about it. It was so not true. There is such an age gap between all of us that we essentially grew up in different homes. She got some things I didn't get, I got some things she didn't get. Big deal. It's over, it's past.

My dad was just taking it. I hated seeing that.

My brother asked me what was going on.

Now, this is where I made my big mistake. I should have said, "I don't know," and kept my mouth shut. I didn't. I said to my brother, "Just her annual complaint that Dad loved us more."

My sister heard this and became enraged. She got up and stormed out of the house.

This is where I made my second mistake. I went after her.

I found her outside, sitting on some landscaping, wailing at the top of her lungs. Her husband and kids were milling about, not really paying any attention to her. I couldn't talk to her. I tried to say, please, let's just talk, but then she started hurtling the hurtful things. As I said, she knows how to cut to your most basic insecurities in the heat of the moment. She was doing all she could to be as hurtful and mean as possible.

Stop, I kept saying. But no matter what I said, she kept being as hurtful as possible.

Trying to talk to her at all was my third mistake.

I thought maybe if I looked into her eyes and got her attention I could get her to calm down. So I put my hands on each of her shoulders and said, firmly, "Look at me!"

This was my fourth mistake.

She looked at me, and while she did, she grabbed my left arm with her right hand – and bit my forearm.

Yes, bit. As in bite. Mouth. Teeth.

Thank goodness I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt. It protected me and her teeth didn't break the skin.

And she held my arm in her mouth and kept clamping down as long as she could. I started yelling for her to let go, and pounded her left shoulder with my right hand.

Her husband came over and decided I was attacking her. He grabbed my left arm – the one being bit – pulled and told me to leave her alone. For several seconds my left arm was in a tug-of-war between my sister's teeth and my brother-in-law's hand.

I finally broke free and ran into the house. I hid in the bathroom while my sister and her husband gathered their things and left, trashing me all the way. My husband and I left early the next morning.

We stayed in a hotel for the rest of the weekend, and it was nice to be away – do our own thing without the demands of family.

My sister and I didn't speak or communicate at all for about ten months. They were some of the calmest, least dramatic months I can remember.

We've never really talked about or resolved what happened that Thanksgiving on the mountain. I have no interest in hearing about what a victim she was.

By the way, this is a photo of my arm several hours after the incident. The bruising continued to develop over several days and it was weeks before I could push up my shirt sleeves without gasps and stares.

So this whole thing with my nephew? I'm not surprised, really. They've since started talking again, but my nephew is far more wary of her, his own mother. And that's sad.

Next time I'll tell you about the time she stopped speaking to me after C was sick. She was angry at me for not personally calling her multiple times a day during the crisis to update her because I didn't understand how worried she was. Seriously.

Now THIS is an Online Quiz!

Even though it needs to be updated with more current players.

Which Red Sox Player Are You?

I came up as this guy.

Pitchers and catchers report in 15 days.

I'm Not the Only One Who Adores Burnt Caramel Ice Cream

I'm not so sure how I feel about the owners not paying their taxes and having customers bail them out, but artists rarely are good business people and it would be criminal if some of these flavors disappeared.

News about the Toscis bail-out was in the local (city) paper last week, and in the New York Times today.

Two Sides

I took a walk out on the beach today. The sun was bright and it wasn't too bitterly cold, especially for late January.

The ocean side was loud and angry. The surf was heavy and white with foam. Mist from the crashing waves sprayed in the air.





The bay side was glassy calm.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

A Message

We had a storm come through yesterday and last night. The winds were really strong; we had 1/2 an inch of snow on the screened porch. I was surprised we didn't lose power.

Leaving the house this morning, I saw this message on the porch table.

Rude and/or Short-Sighted

This job search continues to be interesting. I am continually amazed how rude HR departments are. Even at the smallest of startups, no response to inquiries, either initial or follow-up. Didn't their mothers teach them better? It may now be considered par for the course, but that doesn't make it right.

I've talked to a couple of startups wanting contractors. One said they'd had some trouble with continuity with previous contractors, and could I fix that? Um, the reason you have continuity issues with contractors is because you only use contractors. Bring someone in for one project with a really tight timeline, boot them out when it's done, repeat several weeks or months later when you need revisions or have a new project effort. There's no one to establish an overall vision for the documentation for your company, not even a simple style guide. The startups actually lose money in the long run this way with the time spent by each subsequent contractor to ramp up on the product and the technology. Not to mention the lack of consistency over time.

Technical writers can do more than "just" write end-user pieces. They can contribute to the development cycle by developing templates for specification documents, and then work with developers to edit those specs. They can work with user interface developers, partner with quality assurance and technical support, help out to make sure marketing material is technically accurate. And so on.

One company I talked to realized literally last week that they need some online help for their product. They want to launch it in April, so the deadline is end of March. They have no idea how they will integrate it, no developers with experience hooking in online help, no plan to test it, and no tools. I pitched myself as an experienced permanent writer with my part-time hours and what I could do. If they do find someone to take it on as a contract, they will need to budget for more that 40 hours per week of that contractor's time, and in the end, they will pay much, much more than if they hired me with a modified vision for the March deadline but a more complete and business-savvy plan for documentation over the long-haul. Which direction do you think they will go?

Back to it.

Birthday Wishes

Today is my friend blaugustine's birthday.

Go on over and wish her a happy 50th, won't you?

Kitty, Again

More bladder control problems. Friday and yesterday he would at least move out of the spot once he lost control. Today he just sat in it until I realized and moved him, and most of his left side is wet.

He doesn't eat-he just sniffs food then turns his head away.

He seems to like being near us, but won't make much effort to move toward us, really.

Because of the bladder issue, we've kept him in a bathroom with his box, water, and a cozy sleeping spot (on the heated floor) the last two nights. Each morning when we have gone to get him, he's been laying in the litter box. He doesn't get up to greet us. He just lays there.

He's less and less himself, more and more spacey and distant.

The end is close.

Sigh.

M*&@$%-F*&#$^& Virtual Waiting Room

Since we arrived home from the twins' birthday party about 1:30PM, I have been sitting online in the virtual waiting room in a possibly vain attempt to get tickets. We have over two dozen browser windows open on two computers. Games are sold out already, and some have only limited availability or obstructed view left. Ugh.

Last year, I was online right at 10AM, and waited for about an hour and a half with eight browser windows open to get seats to our third choice game. But we did get tickets.

The year before, I had a horrible flu, felt completely miserable, and forgot it was ticket purchase day until about noon. Once I remembered, I waited about two hours with just one browser window open - but managed tickets to two games that year (we only needed four tickets per game then - and the per person limit in these sales is eight).

Of course, the ticket scalpers online brokers already have plenty of stock for the games we are looking at. At four times the face value.

I've told the boys we are giving up at 5:00PM. This is ridiculous. There is almost no hope for the average fan.

Kitty Rollercoaster

Yesterday, I learned how to give Seymour sub-cutaneous fluid at home.

Last night he didn't eat all his dinner.

He didn't eat anything this morning.

He lost control of his bladder on my bed today.

He almost fell over just sitting near me a few minutes ago.

But he still nudges me, wanting a scratch. No purring though.

I'm feeling very sad about this.

Moon

Last night, as I was driving C to choir, we noticed the rising moon through the trees. It was vivid orange. We took a quick detour to the harbor to check it out.

The tide was so low, you could have walked on the mud to the very end of the pier. The reflection of the rising moon glistened in that mud and on the water further out.

It was stunning.

I was furious with myself for not bringing my camera.

I've been taking my camera everywhere lately, but since I was just dropping C at choir, I figured I didn't need it. I had only my cell phone and keys. I tried taking a photo with my cell phone, but there's no quality to speak of.

Guess I have learned my lesson.

Interview Exhaustion

I've had three job interviews this week. I don't know if anything will work out.

As I left each meeting, I felt pretty decent. But as time has worn on, I don't know anymore. I'm second-guessing everything.

Not only is the actual interviewing tiring (being "on" like that), but the brutal internal post analysis is deflating.

Thing is, I'm absolutely terrified I'm not going to be able to find another job.

Realtor Euphemisms

The listing for the neighbor's house came out in the town newspaper yesterday. The tidbit that made me laugh the most was "Neutral appointments throughout."

Translation? "Thoroughly boring decor."

No!

A dear friend emailed me yesterday that she is planning a last-minute brunch on Saturday morning for her twins' second birthday (the actual day is today). Could we make it?

Hmm...Saturday....there's something about Saturday, I thought. I sat on the email for a bit, couldn't think of anything special about Saturday, checked with my husband, then emailed back and said, yes, definitely. What time?

10:30AM, she wrote back.

Okay, then, we'll leave here about 9:30AM, then, as they live a bit of a drive away. Settled. Looking forward to it.

Then this morning, it hit me.

Tickets go on sale at 10AM on Saturday morning.

The last couple of years this has meant sitting online for hours with multiple browser windows open before making it through the virtual waiting room. I am sure this year will be no different, especially with the win in October.

Basically, we have little hope of getting tickets unless we sit at a computer on Saturday morning.

I just want to bang my head against the wall.

There is Fight in Him Yet

Seymour is perking up a bit. The eating is still off, but he's meowing more.

I took him in yesterday for another bit of sub-cutaneous fluid. I asked if I could learn to do this at home (knowing full-well the answer is yes) but the vet hemmed and hawed. "Let's see how he does," he said. Gotta protect that daily charge, dontchaknow.

Of the two vets in the practice, this is the one I like less. The other one, Dr. B, has a better people-side manner and was very reassuring as Zoe was failing. I think I we will see Dr. B this afternoon when we go in again. I'll see what she has to say.

Meanwhile, Seymour has expressed his displeasure with us. He refused to sleep with us last night. Normally he's tucked in next to me so tight, he flinches every time I breathe. Then this morning he bit me when I gave him the antibiotics. We are adding in a potassium supplement, too, and he gave me quite the evil eye after I managed that down his throat.

He's still not eating much, or purring, but I imagine we'll get there.

He has found a patch of sunlight and is sleeping in it's rays right now. Sweet guy...

Sweet Seymour

Last month, after getting our old man of a kitty onto antibiotics and wet food, he really perked up for a few weeks. He ate copiously, meowed more, even played with some toy mice. We congratulated ourselves on bringing him back.

But in the last week or so, Seymour almost completely stopped eating. Even when we warmed up his food, only bare nibbles were consumed. Then we noticed that he had pretty much stopped meowing. The occasional sounds were more plaintive and uncontrolled wails than communicative meows. On Sunday night it occurred to us that he had stopped purring, too. He, the cat who purred when you looked at him, and often loudly enough to wake the kids when they were babies, was silent. And his breath - oh, gracious, it's like something died in there.

I took our guy into the vet yesterday. After a careful exam (he's lost a whole pound in the last month! Even with the several weeks of better eating!) and a blood test, the vet thinks Seymour has renal failure. He couldn't see any growths in his mouth or throat. He might not be end-of-life, however. We're trying some things to see how he responds. First, more antibiotics to see if an infection is contributing to the situation. Second several days of sub-cutaneous fluids. If he bounces well from these interventions and starts eating again, we'll go forward with other efforts.

If not, we'll have other decisions to make. I hope it doesn't get to that.

Is Bigger Better?

My neighbor just called to let me know that their house is going on the market. The sign goes up later this week.

They are not planning to move far. In fact, they want to stay in this same town. The reasons she gave me for this is that they have been thinking for a while that they would like more space, so they thought why not give the market a shot (even though the housing market has been iffy to say the least) since interest rates are fairly favorable, and so on. They said they might not end up going anywhere, but thought they'd just try.

When another neighbor put their house on the market a couple of years ago, their reasons were similar. They moved out within three months. The market may be iffy, but it's not *that* iffy around here. In addition, we live on a small road with just four houses and it's very attractive to families.

I'm also curious about the "more space" reason I hear it more and more often. Is bigger really better?

This neighbor who just called me is in a four-bedroom colonial. Half the basement is finished space, half is a two car garage. First floor is a living room, dining room, family room and kitchen. They have a lovely deck, and so on. It's a family of four, so each of the daughters has their own room and they have an office/guest room. It's not a tiny house. How much space do they need?

It's all subjective, I know.

I do not want a house any bigger than I have now - it's not a tiny house by any means and it's smaller than this neighbor's. I want my family to know how to live together, to share space. A bigger house means more consumption of natural resources to heat it, light it, live in it. More stuff, more everything. I want to make the best and most efficient use of the space we have. I seem to be an anomaly in that approach.

While I have thought on occasion that a larger dining room would be nice, or different this or that, the desire was not and is not strong enough to make me want to move. If anything, those moments bring me back to brainstorming best and most efficient use of our space. A reaffirmation of my desire to use only what we truly need.

I see this bigger and bigger house thing happening often in our town, and it seems as much as reach for social status as anything. That's not a message I want to send my kids, either.

Another neighbor is a retired couple who have been in their house over thirty years. It's not a huge house - about the same as ours, I think. They raised their three children there, and have been extremely happy. They will put their house on the market sometime in the next couple of years, I think. The husband is dreaming of warmer climates for the rest of their years, and I don't blame him. These are the neighbors I want to emulate. The ones who stayed and made the best of a very lovely house and neighborhood, the ones whose roots are the deepest.

My husband's career may take us some place else, of course. That's different, and not (to my knowledge) on the horizon right now. Until then, I will stay in my just right house and try to be a good neighbor and teach the kids that the size of the house doesn't determine the (social) worth of the family.