14 years ago I wanted a pet, but I was traveling too much to take care of a dog. So I got a cat. I went to a local shelter, picked out a small black cat and paid the money to take her home that day. She was about 6 months old and had just had a litter of kittens. BUT she was given to the shelter without those kittens, and still physically in recovery from delivering them. I was single at the time. The two of us watched a lot of daytime television. She loved "Who's the Daddy?" shows because she hoped to one day find that jerk who walked out on her.
Then I got married and we moved to a quiet house next to a lake. She was an indoor/outdoor cat and often left dead birds, squirrels, or chip monks, (once it was two semi-live baby geese) on my bed as presents. Then I got divorced and we moved into a small apartment. Then we drove her to Montana [OMG you guys you should read this] and I got married again. Then we had a baby and moved back to a house in the suburbs. Then we had another baby, and then she got sick.
And now she's in a box in the backyard.
And between every single word of our short summary of 14 years is a lot of love. And snuggling. And cat puke. And litter boxes. And fur. So. Much. Fur. Stephan constantly threatened to shave her. It's incredibly hard to put into words what losing a pet is like. Because it's pretty much something you own. But it's something alive. It's not a person, but you take care of all of its needs, and it connects to you without words. And if it's not your pet, it's just an animal. We lost our other cat a few years ago, but I never felt like he was "mine". So it was sad, but very different. A long time ago we lost our family dog. Again, not "mine" so not devastating.
Pets have been dying lately. And it's hard to know how to be supportive or to know if anything you say will make it better. I'm pretty sure nothing really does at first. You just sit in the suck. And don't do laundry because the litter box is still down there and laundry can wait a day or two.
Showing posts with label Montana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Montana. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Funny Hair
Remember that time you did that thing and it worked out fine? Yeah, me neither. But that doesn't mean it's never happened. It just means that those aren't the memorable times in life. Case in point: the entire month of February, 2007.
I brought this idea up to Stephan the other day when he asked if I had called the college admissions guy back. Eh? Yeah. The guy who knows where I can take the pre-req classes I would need to apply to the Masters/PhD program in Psychological Science that I've been lusting after.
And it came to me that no one ever had a great story about the 5 years they kept the laundry done and the dishes clean. There hasn't been a biography about a woman who learned to roast almonds and spend less than $75 a week on groceries.
So I'm talking myself into actually leaving the house and finding a higher purpose. Vacuuming is nice. But let's pile up some good stories.
I brought this idea up to Stephan the other day when he asked if I had called the college admissions guy back. Eh? Yeah. The guy who knows where I can take the pre-req classes I would need to apply to the Masters/PhD program in Psychological Science that I've been lusting after.
And it came to me that no one ever had a great story about the 5 years they kept the laundry done and the dishes clean. There hasn't been a biography about a woman who learned to roast almonds and spend less than $75 a week on groceries.
So I'm talking myself into actually leaving the house and finding a higher purpose. Vacuuming is nice. But let's pile up some good stories.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Like a Thing that Taunts You
After nearly a week of constant snow here, we got a break. It was beautiful today... brightest sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, some wind, gorgeous.
Every time I looked out the giant front windows I swore under my breath. Because today, being outside could kill you. Windchill estimates ranged from 9-11 minutes outdoors until frost bite. School was cancelled for today and tomorrow. The dogs have resorted to peeing on the driveway. My friends are texting me with their emergency-wine-stock lists.
However, we used to live in Montana. We have a wardrobe for this weather. We learned a few lessons from the locals. And we survived an insane night with no power and no insulation (except dogs).
Stephan reminded me last night (as I was reviewing our own stocks of beans, rice, wheat flower, and tuna) that we've done a LOT more with a LOT less. So here's to being thankful for our wonderful, solid, house, our 2-year-old furnace, and the Home Depot 1/4 mile away if we need anything.
Every time I looked out the giant front windows I swore under my breath. Because today, being outside could kill you. Windchill estimates ranged from 9-11 minutes outdoors until frost bite. School was cancelled for today and tomorrow. The dogs have resorted to peeing on the driveway. My friends are texting me with their emergency-wine-stock lists.
However, we used to live in Montana. We have a wardrobe for this weather. We learned a few lessons from the locals. And we survived an insane night with no power and no insulation (except dogs).
Stephan reminded me last night (as I was reviewing our own stocks of beans, rice, wheat flower, and tuna) that we've done a LOT more with a LOT less. So here's to being thankful for our wonderful, solid, house, our 2-year-old furnace, and the Home Depot 1/4 mile away if we need anything.
Friday, November 22, 2013
LOL
Every few months or so I check on the stats for the blog. This week something hysterical happened:
Can you see it? Someone actually searched, "prefer soapsuds to fleet enema" and came up with my blog. I know exactly which blog post this points to... and, honestly, it is much more about the daily life of the spouse-of-a-nurse than anything to do with medical advice.
I hope that person found a real answer to their question.
Can you see it? Someone actually searched, "prefer soapsuds to fleet enema" and came up with my blog. I know exactly which blog post this points to... and, honestly, it is much more about the daily life of the spouse-of-a-nurse than anything to do with medical advice.
I hope that person found a real answer to their question.
Monday, October 29, 2012
3 Years Already
Yup. Click this.
4am
I’m awake. I think I ate something bad at the Plevna Bar last night. Maybe chicken strips and sweet potato fries were a bad idea at 39 weeks pregnant. Regardless, I’m in the bathroom, and I think I’ll stay here for a while.
4:30am
Stephan’s awake. He asked me if I’m ok. I told him I’m fine, I just can’t leave the bathroom. He’s worried.
4:45am
Stephan is wide awake now. He tells me that he’s going give me until 5:15 to feel better before he drives us to Glendive. I insist it’s not necessary, this will all go away soon. He convinces me that, since we have a doctor appointment at 11am anyway, it wouldn’t be a waste of a drive, just a little safety net planning. I argue. Stephan stops listening.
5am
Stephan has started packing the car. He drops the dogs off at Kodie & Clint’s house, gets my purse from Gary’s house, and makes himself espresso. Meanwhile, I have no idea this is going on. I’m trying to deal with the Toilet Pain. Stand up? No. Sit down? No. Lean over? No. My body tries to prove to me that it’s not what I think it is. I’m still not buying it.
5:30am
Stephan drives the car around to the front door so I don’t have to deal with stairs. I’m wearing yoga pants & a green shirt with enormous SmartWool socks and too-small slip on shoes. Stephan’s rocking black sweat pants and a Jack Daniels t-shirt. It’s pitch dark and a light snow is starting to fall.
5:45am
We pull into Baker to get gas. Gary’s there- a fun coincidence since he was also the only one at the gas station the night we first arrived here 3 years ago. He waves at me through the window and tells Stephan he hopes I’m not mad at him (Gary had been pushing for an October baby when I was insistent it would be November). Stephan eats a hot dog and drinks a Mountain Dew. I have a stopwatch in my hand to time the “gas pains”. This means nothing to me, as I still believe it’s just something I ate. I grab onto Stephan’s shoulder with my left hand every time I feel one, just to let him know I’m still in pain. The car ride isn’t fun.
6:15am
We arrive in Wibaux, just over ½ way there. The snow is starting to slack off. I curse the car and try to figure out how to get back to Plevna without ever sitting in the car again. Is there a train? A bus? It’s not to far to walk…
6:30am
I squeeze Stephan’s shoulder when I [finally] realize that I’m in labor, and that we’re probably going to have a baby today!
6:50am
We’ve finally arrived in Glendive. Outside the off ramp is a gas station. Stephan stops there to use the bathroom and to get me something to eat. I ask for apple juice and a doughnut, “Let me tell you what I want in a doughnut…” I get specific. Glazed. Not doughy, as close to a Krispy Crème as you can. Stephan leaves me to time the contractions. If they’re 5 minutes apart or greater then we’ll get a hotel room. 3 minutes or less and we’re off to the hospital. He gets back from the bathroom and we take off for the hospital.
7am
We walk into the ER, Stephan much faster than me. He’s got the paperwork we pre-signed a month ago, my purse and our overnight bag.
7:10am
Katie is our nurse. She gives me a big pink gown that immediately reminds Stephan of a circus tent. We realize we haven’t called anyone to tell them we were at the hospital, so Stephan called his parents and mine to let them know today’s the day!
8:00am
Doctor Stewart arrives and checks my ‘progress’. She has to see patients this morning and promises to return around 10:30.
8:45am
I’ve moved back to the toilet. My brother had cautioned me not to poop on the baby. To avoid this I make the extra trip to the bathroom just to make sure nothing like that is going to happen. Once there, I wanna push. Stephan calls Katie to tell her about this new development. She rushes over and tells me NOT to push; she’s heard of people delivering babies on toilets and prefers not to do that today.
9:00am
I’m back on the bed. Since Doc isn’t available, Katie checks my progress. She leaves to get Doc right away. I can still move freely so I try every position we can think of to get me more comfortable. I keep telling Stephan I want to push and he keeps reminding me not to. During one contraction my water breaks. Stephan, startled, says, “Did someone just throw a water balloon at you?” Stephan runs to get the nurse.
9:30am
Doctor Stewart is back. She checks me again. People just keep telling me NOT to push. Doc’s next instructions were to give a little push, and then let it go right away. She puts her fingers in my hand and tells me to focus my energy into squeezing her fingers instead. All of this sounds ludicrous to me. I start to get discouraged, but I don’t say anything. I just keep concentrating.
10:00am
Doc checks again. She gives me to go ahead to push. Doc puts on her working clothes: huge, blue boots, a gown, gloves and a hat. The bed transforms in seconds. This pushing is serious. Stephan keeps telling me to “ground out,” which means to push all the energy out the bottom of my body. I rest between contractions and lock eyes with Stephan so I remember to breath and enjoy the peace between pushing.
Part of a thought runs through my mind, a phrase I heard over and over again in a meditation I’d listened to during this pregnancy, “…ready to join all the women who have ever gone before you, and all those who will come after you…”
10:45am
The baby’s head is out to the nose. Stephan tells me one more push and we’ll have a baby. I can see the exploding excitement on his face. There’s one push left, but I need a break. I take a quick deep inhale.
10:46am
With one last set of 3 pushes the doctor tells me to reach down and pick up my baby. The baby is slippery, warm, wet, and soft. He is very dark purple, with a swollen head and lips. He’s moving, but slowly, and I don’t hear any crying, but that doesn’t bother me. I hear the doctor ask Stephan if he saw if it’s a boy or girl. He takes a second and says, “It’s a boy!!” I can’t believe it. A boy? Really? The nurses are on top of me rubbing the white coating into the baby’s skin. A boy? Sawyer’s here?
4am
I’m awake. I think I ate something bad at the Plevna Bar last night. Maybe chicken strips and sweet potato fries were a bad idea at 39 weeks pregnant. Regardless, I’m in the bathroom, and I think I’ll stay here for a while.
4:30am
Stephan’s awake. He asked me if I’m ok. I told him I’m fine, I just can’t leave the bathroom. He’s worried.
4:45am
Stephan is wide awake now. He tells me that he’s going give me until 5:15 to feel better before he drives us to Glendive. I insist it’s not necessary, this will all go away soon. He convinces me that, since we have a doctor appointment at 11am anyway, it wouldn’t be a waste of a drive, just a little safety net planning. I argue. Stephan stops listening.
5am
Stephan has started packing the car. He drops the dogs off at Kodie & Clint’s house, gets my purse from Gary’s house, and makes himself espresso. Meanwhile, I have no idea this is going on. I’m trying to deal with the Toilet Pain. Stand up? No. Sit down? No. Lean over? No. My body tries to prove to me that it’s not what I think it is. I’m still not buying it.
5:30am
Stephan drives the car around to the front door so I don’t have to deal with stairs. I’m wearing yoga pants & a green shirt with enormous SmartWool socks and too-small slip on shoes. Stephan’s rocking black sweat pants and a Jack Daniels t-shirt. It’s pitch dark and a light snow is starting to fall.
5:45am
We pull into Baker to get gas. Gary’s there- a fun coincidence since he was also the only one at the gas station the night we first arrived here 3 years ago. He waves at me through the window and tells Stephan he hopes I’m not mad at him (Gary had been pushing for an October baby when I was insistent it would be November). Stephan eats a hot dog and drinks a Mountain Dew. I have a stopwatch in my hand to time the “gas pains”. This means nothing to me, as I still believe it’s just something I ate. I grab onto Stephan’s shoulder with my left hand every time I feel one, just to let him know I’m still in pain. The car ride isn’t fun.
6:15am
We arrive in Wibaux, just over ½ way there. The snow is starting to slack off. I curse the car and try to figure out how to get back to Plevna without ever sitting in the car again. Is there a train? A bus? It’s not to far to walk…
6:30am
I squeeze Stephan’s shoulder when I [finally] realize that I’m in labor, and that we’re probably going to have a baby today!
6:50am
We’ve finally arrived in Glendive. Outside the off ramp is a gas station. Stephan stops there to use the bathroom and to get me something to eat. I ask for apple juice and a doughnut, “Let me tell you what I want in a doughnut…” I get specific. Glazed. Not doughy, as close to a Krispy Crème as you can. Stephan leaves me to time the contractions. If they’re 5 minutes apart or greater then we’ll get a hotel room. 3 minutes or less and we’re off to the hospital. He gets back from the bathroom and we take off for the hospital.
7am
We walk into the ER, Stephan much faster than me. He’s got the paperwork we pre-signed a month ago, my purse and our overnight bag.
7:10am
Katie is our nurse. She gives me a big pink gown that immediately reminds Stephan of a circus tent. We realize we haven’t called anyone to tell them we were at the hospital, so Stephan called his parents and mine to let them know today’s the day!
8:00am
Doctor Stewart arrives and checks my ‘progress’. She has to see patients this morning and promises to return around 10:30.
8:45am
I’ve moved back to the toilet. My brother had cautioned me not to poop on the baby. To avoid this I make the extra trip to the bathroom just to make sure nothing like that is going to happen. Once there, I wanna push. Stephan calls Katie to tell her about this new development. She rushes over and tells me NOT to push; she’s heard of people delivering babies on toilets and prefers not to do that today.
9:00am
I’m back on the bed. Since Doc isn’t available, Katie checks my progress. She leaves to get Doc right away. I can still move freely so I try every position we can think of to get me more comfortable. I keep telling Stephan I want to push and he keeps reminding me not to. During one contraction my water breaks. Stephan, startled, says, “Did someone just throw a water balloon at you?” Stephan runs to get the nurse.
9:30am
Doctor Stewart is back. She checks me again. People just keep telling me NOT to push. Doc’s next instructions were to give a little push, and then let it go right away. She puts her fingers in my hand and tells me to focus my energy into squeezing her fingers instead. All of this sounds ludicrous to me. I start to get discouraged, but I don’t say anything. I just keep concentrating.
10:00am
Doc checks again. She gives me to go ahead to push. Doc puts on her working clothes: huge, blue boots, a gown, gloves and a hat. The bed transforms in seconds. This pushing is serious. Stephan keeps telling me to “ground out,” which means to push all the energy out the bottom of my body. I rest between contractions and lock eyes with Stephan so I remember to breath and enjoy the peace between pushing.
Part of a thought runs through my mind, a phrase I heard over and over again in a meditation I’d listened to during this pregnancy, “…ready to join all the women who have ever gone before you, and all those who will come after you…”
10:45am
The baby’s head is out to the nose. Stephan tells me one more push and we’ll have a baby. I can see the exploding excitement on his face. There’s one push left, but I need a break. I take a quick deep inhale.
10:46am
With one last set of 3 pushes the doctor tells me to reach down and pick up my baby. The baby is slippery, warm, wet, and soft. He is very dark purple, with a swollen head and lips. He’s moving, but slowly, and I don’t hear any crying, but that doesn’t bother me. I hear the doctor ask Stephan if he saw if it’s a boy or girl. He takes a second and says, “It’s a boy!!” I can’t believe it. A boy? Really? The nurses are on top of me rubbing the white coating into the baby’s skin. A boy? Sawyer’s here?
Monday, October 22, 2012
Night Run
Want to totally freak yourself out? Are you in a running rut and haven't done anything different lately?
Well grab yourself a headlamp, taillight, and reflective vest and head out the door after dusk. It totally reminds me of what it used to be like driving Stephan to work in Montana.
Well grab yourself a headlamp, taillight, and reflective vest and head out the door after dusk. It totally reminds me of what it used to be like driving Stephan to work in Montana.
Except there are skunks. And streetlights.
And also- that weird thing where a route I run weekly is totally different. I noticed so many new things within the scope of my Cabelas headlamp; elevation changes I never knew existed, uneven pavement, gas powered lamps, not to mention all of the halloween decorations that are up right now. There are also so many more smells at night. Admittedly, I was sniffing regularly for skunks, but I smelled fire, poop, fall, garbage, more poop, leaves, lots of my own sweat, and sewer smell. I watched my breath pass in front of the beam of the LED's in clouds. I traced my shadow across pools of street lamps.
The voice that usually has to create things for me to worry about was given a task: Keep Anna upright in the dark. And it performed very well! Being concerned with so many actual physical dangers got my brain to shut the hell up for 30 minutes. (I also ran pretty fast!)
Needless to say, this was NOT a zombie run. I actually had the music turned way down low for fear of not being aware of my surroundings. I'll save zombies for broad daylight. You know, when it's totally pretend.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Eye of The...
Life is so busy. Seriously, you guys. Remember when we were bored?? Remember when Stephan and I went for drives to see stuff? And really... remember when I had time for wallowing in angst??
I saw a picture of a hurricane recently and was reminded that at the center of the storm is a calm, peaceful place. It's still a part of the storm- but it's the quiet center. It's the middle.
I have a favorite book. Mr. God, This is Anna was a book my parents bought me because it had my name in the title. I've read it about a dozen times. I often buy copies of it and give it to friends. The little girl in the story once tells the narrator that God lives in her middle. And so does he. And so do all the people she loves in the world. They all live in her middle, and she lives in their middles.
Tonight I asked Sawyer where he feels happy. He pointed to his mouth. Where do you feel sad? Mouth again. Where do you feel angry? In his head. Where do you feel scared? In his belly. Where do you feel love? He pointed to the middle of my chest. My body- right in the middle.
I'm cool with that.
I saw a picture of a hurricane recently and was reminded that at the center of the storm is a calm, peaceful place. It's still a part of the storm- but it's the quiet center. It's the middle.
I have a favorite book. Mr. God, This is Anna was a book my parents bought me because it had my name in the title. I've read it about a dozen times. I often buy copies of it and give it to friends. The little girl in the story once tells the narrator that God lives in her middle. And so does he. And so do all the people she loves in the world. They all live in her middle, and she lives in their middles.
Tonight I asked Sawyer where he feels happy. He pointed to his mouth. Where do you feel sad? Mouth again. Where do you feel angry? In his head. Where do you feel scared? In his belly. Where do you feel love? He pointed to the middle of my chest. My body- right in the middle.
I'm cool with that.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Where We Started...
This week marks the anniversary of SO many things. But my favorite is the anniversary of the first time I took running steps post-foot surgery.
It was only a 2.0 mile run. It took 30 minutes. The average pace was 15 minutes. And, as you can see from the graph above, it started out strong, but quickly faded into a walk.
Monday, August 13, 2012
MVP
More initials!! These stand for Most Viewed Post. Can you guess what it is? You'll never guess.
It's this post from 2008 when Stephan and I learned all about rodeo. There are a lot of pictures in it, which is why it gets the most Google hits.
The second most read is How to Cook Antelope for obvious reasons. Unfortunately for many people, the conclusion to that post is to simply NOT eat antelope!
The third one is again about rodeo.
And the fourth one is the most interesting to me. Every year about this time the hits sky rocket for this post. It's a summary of the Sun Dance Stephan and I were invited to. I couldn't take any photos, and I really couldn't post many details. But still, people who search for the Lakota Sun Dance South Dakota seem to find their way there every year.
And the last one is a funny post I wrote to my mom about the cleanliness of our house.
Enjoy!!
It's this post from 2008 when Stephan and I learned all about rodeo. There are a lot of pictures in it, which is why it gets the most Google hits.
The second most read is How to Cook Antelope for obvious reasons. Unfortunately for many people, the conclusion to that post is to simply NOT eat antelope!
The third one is again about rodeo.
And the fourth one is the most interesting to me. Every year about this time the hits sky rocket for this post. It's a summary of the Sun Dance Stephan and I were invited to. I couldn't take any photos, and I really couldn't post many details. But still, people who search for the Lakota Sun Dance South Dakota seem to find their way there every year.
And the last one is a funny post I wrote to my mom about the cleanliness of our house.
Enjoy!!
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