tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21921155831854791892024-03-14T00:31:43.148-04:00Driftwood CollectorDriftwood: pieces of wood shaped and changed by the winds and tides. Sometimes I pick up something interesting and put it here to share with others.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.comBlogger419125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-41167737087448677562010-07-13T00:50:00.001-04:002010-07-13T00:51:33.587-04:00New cribI'm moving to a new place to give myself a fresh start. Send me a note or leave a comment if you want to know the forwarding address. :)The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-21158499580697542902010-06-27T23:16:00.003-04:002010-06-27T23:24:20.287-04:00So... long time, no writeI'm thinking I should start writing a bit more. Now that I'm past the highly-uncomfortable-pregnancy bit, finished with bedrest and baby boy's stint in the NICU. And since I don't have a job anymore - I was "let go" at one month postpartum, called in for a meeting to be told this since I hadn't been to work in many weeks due to bedrest, delivery, etc. I have a lot of bitterness and anger and frustration about the poor way it was all handled, but I'm trying not to stew over it since it gives me heartburn and headaches.<br /><br />But now I have this adorable baby boy, and I'm thinking I should write more, about him and his two fabulous siblings, and maybe that can help me work through what I'll do next, besides being a wife and mother (which is a lot of wonderful work, but the financial benefits are even worse than adjuncting). I'm thinking that making writing a regular routine for me would be good mental exercise, keeping the mind sharp in between episodes of <span style="font-style:italic;">Team Umizoomi</span> and <span style="font-style:italic;">The Deadliest Catch</span> (favorites of my children and husband, respectively). So I'm going to set up a schedule and some expectations for myself, to get in the habit.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-17533899005724578322010-02-10T22:45:00.002-05:002010-02-10T22:51:42.198-05:00Tappity tap-tap...The lad in my womb likes to tap dance in the wee hours. He really gets dancing during the midnight to two a.m. time frame. Alas, this means I have not been getting a good night's sleep - having bronchitis and coughing so much would be complication enough.<br /><br />Three was very active like this during my last pregnancy. I'm guessing this guy will kick off his blankets and socks when he gets out, too.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-28519173008854210832010-01-29T21:54:00.004-05:002010-01-29T22:36:41.287-05:00Pseudo-late-night musingsNot really that late, but the whole house is sleeping (except <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQZmCJUSC6g" target=_blank>me</a>, obviously). I had a performance review at my <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPiGWqc1Kp8" target=_blank>job</a> earlier this week. It was even more unpleasant than I had imagined - the head o' staff never seems satisfied with my <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPiGWqc1Kp8" target=_blank>work</a>, despite the fact that he doesn't really have a lot of first-hand knowledge or exposure to my work. And I kind of resent that - but that's a separate can of worms. I also don't handle performance reviews well, at least not when I have them with this guy. I don't like criticism (who does), but beyond that, I'm probably a little more honest and blunt about my beefs than I should be.<br /><br />My immediate supervisor (not the head of staff) asked me where I saw myself in the future - say, five years out. And at the time, my answer was "I don't know." Maybe not the most politically-savvy answer, but I was being honest. And I've thought a lot about that question over the days since. I'm too young to be having a mid-life crisis. I think it's more a case of not knowing what I want to be when I grow up, since figuring out that my initial plan did not match my expectations and priorities.<br /><br />Back when I started graduate school, I thought I would end up teaching college. And I still do that, sometimes, as a vastly-underpaid, irregularly employed adjunct. One or two courses some terms, and nothing others, and never anything during the summer. I could keep at that, and try to line up positions at more distant colleges and universities, but for the measly salary and total lack of benefits, it's not worth it. The amount of time and energy required to do a good job is significant, and I can't <span style="font-style:italic;">not </span>put in that time and energy, but then if the time spent teaching, preparing, grading is compared to the per-course pay, I'm really underselling myself. And I'm not making much of a contribution to the family income, for all of the hassle and difficult involved in adjusting my family's life to a teaching schedule.<br /><br />But I love teaching. And - while I love to work with the kids in my current job - I don't think that this particular job at this particular place is going to be satisfying for me, intellectually and spiritually, for a long time unless there are a lot of changes - changes I'm not sure are realistic or desired by my employer(s), given the current economy and the priorities they seem to value. So what to do? <br /><br />I've thought a good bit about trying to get certification so I can teach in public schools. It looks like it's rather involved - I would have to take a number of education classes, although I'd say I've got the content aspects (English lit, composition, rhetoric, grammar - that whole bag) mastered fairly well. I was tempted a few times by some course descriptions for education courses while I was in grad school but never got my act together to actually register for any of them. I'm fairly confident that I could do the work required. I'm just so fuzzy on the right direction for my life that I don't know if that will really be what I want to do.<br /><br />I know I need to do something that affords some creativity. I need to find a place where my reading, writing, analytical skills are valued. I need to find something that gives me a sense of purpose, because I don't want to get tied to something that my heart rejects. I could give writing a try, I suppose. I could probably do good work with non-fiction, various subjects and contexts. Sure, I'm the great procrastinator when it comes to writing that languishing dissertation, but I think the sheer size and overwhelming scope of that project is a big part of my trepidation there. I could edit - I'm good at it, and comfortable with it. I enjoy working with people, most of the time, so a solitary profession wouldn't necessarily be a good fit.<br /><br />But nothing's dropping in my lap. No flashing neon signs, saying "Here's your vocation!" "Stop here for your profession and purpose in life!" I'm not in a hurry to move. I enjoy <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9Yn65cMSjQ" target=_blank>much</a> of my work, and I still have a lot of challenges in my current job. And it's not like I'd be in high demand if I waded out into the job-seeking pool just now. <span style="font-style:italic;">Everyone's clamoring to hire a pregnant English nerd right now.</span> What does it mean that my kindergartener knows what she wants to be when she grows up (an astronaut - this has been her plan for over two years now - sometimes she tosses in a second career as a princess and/or a mother, too, although I've had to promise to look after her kids while she's in space) and I don't? I really miss that clarity I had in my late college, early grad school years. I had a Big Life Plan then, and since then I've made so many changes and revisions and notes in the margins that I can't even figure out what the plan says. If you're out driving, and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5lSXFa5CY4" target=_blank>you</a> see one of those neon signs and you think it's an answer to my question, let <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQZmCJUSC6g" target=_blank>me</a> know, okay?The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-80452944814720915982010-01-25T14:56:00.000-05:002010-01-25T14:57:28.309-05:00I love this site.<a href="http://failbooking.com/2010/01/22/funny-facebook-fails-during-potions-class/"><img src="http://cheezfailbooking.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/funny-facebook-hp-394.png" alt="" title="funny-facebook-HP-394" width="509" height="271" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-1134" /></a><br />see more <a href="http://failbooking.com">funny facebook </a> stuff!The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-60080937647945309832009-12-16T23:48:00.004-05:002009-12-17T00:04:32.374-05:00Ummm, yeah. I'm still around.As usual at this time of year, my life has devolved into an exhausting series of chaotic activities. I finished with grading finals and papers, turned in my final grades, and all of that jazz earlier this week. I even had to turn in my office and building keys - as happened last spring, I don't have a teaching assignment lined up for next term, and while I may be called in at the last moment, there's no guarantee. So they'll take up my key and send it back to wherever keys go for the next three or four weeks, so that, if they decide to call me back to teach next term, I will then have to wait at least a month to get keys again. It would seem sensible to have me keep the keys until classes start again in January, and then return them if I won't need them, but no. I jump through the hoops of higher ed bureaucracy like a good trained pup.<br /><br />The kids are abuzz with various holiday parties and activities. Big Girl danced beautifully last weekend in The Nutcracker - her first performance in it. I was rather surprised by how nostalgic and sentimental I felt seeing my girl dance in the same ballet that I once performed. And yes, most of the choreography is virtually unchanged from the steps set on me and my peers so many years ago in the first local performance. When I heard the music for the roles I danced then, I felt my feet and arms respond instinctively with the appropriate gestures and movements. It's been sixteen years, but I still remember (although I know my pregnant, out of shape body would look ridiculous if I actually attempted to do the steps, and I don't even want to think about how impossible it would be to dance on pointe now).<br /><br />Big Girl and I also got to ride in the local Christmas parade, on a float with her scout troup, earlier this month. It was extremely cold but fun. As the sole pregnant parent among the adults there to supervise and accompany the kids, I got to ride on the float while the other parents walked along beside it and tossed candy to the kids watching the parade. Three and his granddaddy watched the parade, and both Three and his sister were THRILLED to see Santa riding on a fire truck at the end of the parade. Well, almost the end. The horses came last, because, well, who really wants to walk or drive behind them? Aside from a cleaning crew, perhaps. I couldn't believe how excited the kids got about Santa. My boy is still talking about Santa on the fire truck, and I expect that he will question the jolly guy about it if we go to see Santa at the mall. <br /><br />Commercialism has reached Big Girl. Sigh. She's always wanted great toys - fun kid stuff, that requires imagination or active play - but thanks to the influence of her school peers, she's asking for a DS and a remote control car for Christmas. Both things are completely out of character - I know it's just a matter of hearing the kids at school discuss such things. Unfortunately Santa plans to give her things she will actually enjoy, as opposed to those other beyond-his-budget-and-likely-less-fun-for-her-anyway items.<br /><br />My boy, fortunately, remains blissfully unaware, and his wish list this year is the same as last: tractors. Since he already owns almost every John Deere toy tractor that I can find in this town, I've had to get a bit creative with him, but hopefully he will still be pleased.<br /><br />And the bebe? The one moving around in the womb while I type? I should find out whether said baby is a he or a she next month. I am so excited to find out! And then, of course, I'll be able to obsess about baby clothes and accessories and gear - but I'm trying to wait until after Christmas.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-17981054187586971562009-11-24T09:13:00.004-05:002009-11-24T09:21:00.363-05:00Sotto voceLaryngitis - I haz it. Thanks to some lovely germs which briefly affected Big Girl, but decided to linger much longer with Hubs and me, my voice is, at best, a quiet croak today. I'm staying at home and drinking lots of hot fruit tea. It's a variation on stuff that the women in my family make, and it's not really tea, exactly, but that's what I call it. You could add some tea bags to it, which some of my relatives do, and it would be delicious, but I often omit that step. My mom adds mulling spices when she makes it, but today I'm sticking with the following simple recipe since I have these ingredients on hand:<br /><br />In a monstrous pot on the stove, combine a gallon of apple juice with half a big can of pineapple juice, and/or same amount cranberry juice. Toss in some cinnamon sticks and/or cloves. Simmer for a while until flavors come out and get mixed, then ladle into mugs and drink. It's nummy, as my boy would say.<br /><br />I'm making some now.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-77859897040664283112009-11-23T13:51:00.002-05:002009-11-23T14:05:06.834-05:00Mmmm, cranberry sauce!Cranberry sauce is really one of my favorite things about Turkey Day. The jellied straight-from-a-can kind, although I will eat other kids too. But I'm perfectly happy with the canned stuff - even better if you manage to remove it from the can and maintain the can shape, complete with ridges around the circumference that show the actual shape of the can. <br /><br />I, um, don't really like turkey. Yeah, I'll eat it, particularly if you add some stuffing and gravy (the good kind, not watery crap). But I prefer ham. Honey glazed, spiral cut, please. Mmmm, ham. So many more leftover possibilities with ham, too. So this year my aunt is procuring the meats for the festivities, but maybe I'll manage to sneak away with a hunk o' leftover ham at the end. <br /><br />Strange how I can be so captivated and enthralled by food while simultaneously feeling terrible morning sickness, all day long. But really - I haven't lost the desire to eat, or the appreciation of tasty foods. I just can't keep stuff down without lots of meds and a helluva lot of willpower. I'm incredibly dangerous at the grocery store, even as I keep careful track of the locations of bathrooms, just in case I am overcome with nausea. I've made two hungry-and-lacking-willpower grocery runs lately, so I'm well stocked with ice cream sandwiches, frozen Italian ices, cocoa, and enough ingredients to make a batch of cookies every day from now until New Year's. <br /><br />I got these wonderful Heath toffee chocolate baking bits and can't wait to make cookies with them. I actually bought a bag of these last month, too, but Hubs found them and surreptitiously pilfered and snacked until they were gone. I have to watch him. He does this with chocolate chips and butterscotch chips too - and then I get ready to make scotchies (the oatmeal butterscotch cookie recipe on the bag o' butterscotch chips) and find I have no chips.<br /><br />Did I mention how delicious butterscotch chips are when added to pancakes? I think I like them even better than chocolate chip pancakes.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-59911427849695295532009-11-20T22:19:00.001-05:002009-11-20T22:19:52.404-05:00ZZZZZZzzzzzzz.....I snore when I'm pregnant. I know this from previous pregnancies - the combination of a little stuffiness (which seems to last throughout pregnancy for me) and extra weight cause it. So I know I do it - I'm not in denial like SOME PEOPLE who live in this house and share the bed with me... <br /><br />I've learned, after nine years of marriage, to tune out his snoring and sleep through it. But last night he woke me up repeatedly to tell me to stop snoring! Dude - I can't help it! I'm laying on my side, so it's not as if changing positions will stop it! Grrr. I'm just a little frustrated with his hypocrisy. He denies snoring. I've threatened to record him to prove my point, but he'd probably deny even in the face of that evidence.<br /><br />He actually asked me to wait an hour after he goes to bed, so he can be sound asleep by the time I get there - so he doesn't have to listen to me! The nerve of that man....<br /><br />{end vent}The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-54177660766124515102009-11-17T17:31:00.003-05:002009-11-17T17:33:40.437-05:00I am highly productive and organized!In my mind, that is. In reality, it's a far different story. I can sit around thinking of things I could do, but at present I lack all energy. I have no mental push, no impetus to remove myself from this recliner and get things done. And there is so very much to be done.<br /><br />Sigh.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-67942412093305377322009-11-10T07:16:00.001-05:002009-11-10T07:16:39.724-05:00Hyperemesis.I haz it. :(The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-62401458667301003532009-10-29T18:09:00.002-04:002009-10-29T18:16:43.373-04:00This explains why my kids are geniuses... ;)<a href="http://www.babycenter.com/204_morning-sickness-tied-to-higher-child-iq_10316988.bc">Morning Sickness Tied to Higher Child IQ</a><br /><br />Oh, am I sick. I'd say "sick as a dog," only I think my dogs are feeling much better than I am right now. I'm on meds to help with the nausea, fortunately. And that memory of how sick and miserable I felt during the first trimesters of my previous pregnancies, the memory that faded in the delight of cute little babies that followed? <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sISWPzEqHLQ" target=_blank>Oh, yes. I remember it well.</a><br /><br />By now many of the adults in my life know. Still haven't told the kids. Hubs and I think we'll tell them after the ultrasound early next week. They're both notoriously impatient (wonder where they get that?!), so I know the "when will you have the baby" questions will start in short order. That's okay. My girl will also probably think that her Christmas wish for the last 2-3 years is finally coming true. She's been asking for a baby sister (I think she'd be happy with a baby brother too - she's baby-crazy). And Three? I see a wee bit o' jealousy in his future, because he still likes to crawl in my lap and be my baby sometimes. He won't like it when the occupant starts expanding the womb into his lap territory. He's a sweet boy, though, so I don't have any long term worries.<br /><br />I think I'll go eat something cheesy. Sounds good about now.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-32872443290578326742009-10-12T22:22:00.004-04:002009-10-12T22:38:20.290-04:00Breaking News!I haven't shared this news with many people who see me, in person, on a regular basis. And I'm notoriously weak when it comes to keeping exciting news to myself, so I decided to share the news here so I have somewhere to discuss it.<br /><br />I am pregnant. Thought I might be coming down with swine flu, but no. It's morning sickness.<br /><br />This was a bit of a surprise, albeit a wonderful one. Less than a month ago, I was talking with my doctor about the slim chance that I would conceive without some sort of intervention - fertility meds, etc. <br /><br />I am thrilled about the prospect of becoming a mother for the third time. I am also terrified. Terrified that I might miscarry (I hesitate to type the word, even). Terrified that the baby will have health problems. Terrified that I will be sick as a dog for the whole pregnancy and thus unable to give my kiddos the time and attention they deserve.<br /><br />This complicates life in a lot of ways. I haven't said anything at work yet, because I know that it's going to be... weird. If my guesstimate of the due date is correct, the baby will arrive right around the time I should be running the show for VBS. Ironically my efforts to do that last summer were thwarted by the first of my lithotripsies. Plus I don't exactly get time off or benefits or anything at this job. It's part time, salaried but with some very specific requirements. Certainly having a baby at the end of the school year or early in summer is a better time in other respects, but it will make things tricky at work.<br /><br />Plus, well, we're already busting at the seams in this house. We have too much stuff, and I've been working on paring down our possessions, but we still only have three bedrooms. The baby can stay in our bedroom at first, but eventually? Not sure that we'll be able to fit in this house. And that means the possibility of moving. Ugh.<br /><br />I am so excited to be pregnant. If I stop and think about it for a minute, I get a goofy grin on my face - my inability to keep this expression hidden led to me to tell my parents the news within a couple of days, because they would know I was (poorly attempting to) hiding something. <br /><br />On a related note, if you're reading this and you see me in person on a semi-regular basis - <span style="font-weight:bold;">mum's the word!</span> Say nothing! I need to figure out what all of this will mean, plus when the baby is actually due (due date's a bit uncertain at this point, without an ultrasound to date), and I want to wait until I feel a bit more secure about the pregnancy too before I share the news broadly.<br /><br />In closing, two succinct sentiments: Barf! and <span style="font-weight:bold;">Yay!</span>The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-66188739767829872402009-09-26T23:20:00.003-04:002009-09-26T23:35:59.835-04:00Boots.I have a serious weakness for boots. I love them. Casual boots, fancy boots, no heel, low heel, even higher heel (but I never get too crazy with heels). Pointy toe, squared toe, rounded toe. Almost any color (but not light-up boots - I save those for my daughter). And today? I got a new pair of hiking/work boots. They're not sexy, but they're comfortable and have a great weight to them. And of course, my sweet kids got boots too. <br /><br />Three got another pair of John Deere boots, naturally. Same style as last year - I'm just glad the store still had them! Once he tried them on, he wouldn't take them off, so he wore those boots for the rest of the day (except a brief period in socks so he could play on the inflatables at a birthday party, but he returned to check on his new boots even then). <br /><br />Big Girl got a pair of light-up boots, no joke. They're really cute, black with some dark pink accents, and she loves them. I'll post pictures, naturally. I admit, I scoffed at light-up shoes a little before I had a little girl who just loves them. They make her delightfully happy, and they're harmless, so I've changed my tune completely on the light-up shoes (but I have not, and will not, change my views on Heelys - they're atrocious). I don't know that I would encourage her to wear light-ups to church services, but for more casual attire they're fun. <br /><br />I also saw the most divine soft brown boots, tall ones with a slight heel, rounded toe. The leather was so soft to the touch, and they were just beautiful. I did not try them on. I knew better. They were on sale - at the discount shoe place where I love to shop for shoes - for nearly $300. Oh, they were amazing. Even the kids knew they were special. Big Girl's the one who spotted them first and pointed them out to me, and then her brother spent a while petting them. Yes, these shoes were pet-ably soft. Even Hubs oohed over them.<br /><br />This shoe store is located in another city a few miles north of ours, and I can remember going there as a kid with my parents. It's crowded with shoes of all kinds, all sizes, floor-to-ceiling with narrow aisles in many places. It's like a maze constructed of shoe boxes. Three likes to race around in there, and I have to hurry to keep up with him as he weaves through tight spaces and around slim corners. I think they have almost any shoe - any style, color, size - you could want there. I could become a serious rival to Imelda Marcos if you let me loose in there.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-45661001757983569912009-09-24T20:40:00.003-04:002009-09-24T21:03:34.688-04:00The Bad, who was really The Felon, now an ex-conThe Man got Patton. On Tuesday, actually - the day he escaped. While I was searching the neighborhood for two days, he was waiting in a cage at the county pound. And they didn't call me because, well, they're idiots, and they never bothered to scan him and find his microchip, and the phone number wore off of his tag. I finally thought today to call them, and ask, just to make sure he hadn't been taken there, and they knew immediately which dog I meant. <br /><br />And so Three and I had a big adventure to spring him from the joint - big adventure because we had to get proof of shots from Patton's vet (he lost his rabies tag a couple of collars back - he goes through collars quickly), and we showed up with our printout and a checkbook, but they wanted cash, exact change, $25 - which means the ATM is no good, since it only spits out $20 bills. The woman didn't bother to tell me this earlier on the phone. So the boy and I raced back into town to find a bank, go inside, wait in line very impatiently while the slowest people ever were assisted in front of us, cash a check, and scoot back out to the boonies to get Patton before the place closed. Because I couldn't bear to leave him there another night. That place was so incredibly depressing, with all of the dogs barking and calling to us, knowing that many of them - most of them - don't have long to live. <br /><br />We called in backup (the grandmother) to pick up Big Girl from her class, since this debacle took far more time than anticipated, and we finally got our boy back. In retrospect, I cannot believe the confluence of stupidity that kept him there two days while we ignorantly searched our neighborhood. Some bozo in a nearby neighborhood - not ours, but close - called animal control about him, and told them that he belonged to some new neighbor in that neighborhood, so the dog catcher left a note on the door of that house, and then since they <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">assumed</span></span> that they had notified the owner, they never bothered to scan Patton for a microchip. Plus our new phone number had worn off of Patton's collar tag, leaving only our old out-of-state number, which was, of course, disconnected. They didn't try to contact anyone with the name listed on his tag, since we have a fairly common last name, I suppose - I didn't press the issue at the time, since I was so relieved to get my baby back. But I feel an irate letter, perhaps even a series of letters, developing.<br /><br />And I hope I never have to see that place again. We have a great humane society here that adopts out dogs. They get some dogs from animal control, but the latter is basically a kill-shelter, a tiny place crammed full of dogs waiting to die. I don't want to think about what might have happened had my sweet boy been there another day or two. The pound did metaphorical lip service to animal adoption - a couple of posters and a sign listing contact information for the humane society - but I don't think many dogs make it out of there. I wanted to grab all I could and shove them in my van and speed away. <br /><br />I couldn't - I don't have the space, the money, the time, or the energy to take care of that many dogs the way they deserve - but there were so many sweet faces. So many cute, wagging tails. I hate the pound. I hate what happens there, I hate that there are unwanted dogs, unplanned litters, unfit owners who make it "necessary" to have the pound. I started crying and seething with frustration and outrage as soon as I saw the place (that van was full of rage as I raced to the bank and back to get <span style="font-style:italic;">exact change, in cash, no checks, credit cards, or debit cards</span>). Both of our male dogs are eunuchs, and Katy will be spayed next month, as soon as she's healthy enough for the surgery and finished with her second round of shots. I look around me in this community and often see people doing <span style="font-style:italic;">stupid</span> things - taking foolish risks, engaging in absurd behavior, getting themselves into ridiculous situations - but those whose actions, or inactions, lead to the suffering and deaths of animals seem willfully ignorant, deliberate in their decision not to spay or neuter a cat or dog when taking that action, at relatively little cost, would improve the health of the individual animal and prevent the births of future generations that may not be wanted or supported properly. Ugh.<br /><br />Nighttime now, and all three puppies are sleeping, at home, where they belong.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-73475157735712115102009-09-24T13:04:00.002-04:002009-09-24T13:30:44.635-04:00The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly<span style="font-style:italic;">The Good:</span><br />Katy went to the vet. She doesn't have heartworms. Her hair loss is likely due to undernourishment and a flea allergy (she had fleas when she showed up but I gave her a bath, vet treated her, and they seem to be gone). She's actually older than we thought, probably close to a year, and she won't likely get taller. She will need to fill out, but it seems that she's a golden retriever mix rather than a golden retriever (only) puppy - though she looks a lot like a purebred golden puppy. She was a very good girl in the car, and after her appointment I took her to visit her grandmother (my mom). She got the usual grandchild treatment - lots of affection, snacks, doting. My mom's very good with kids and animals and they almost all love her immediately. Anyway, my efforts to take a good picture of her remain frustrating, because she won't sit still, won't stop running around me trying to lick and kiss on me, but I'm not giving up!<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">The Bad:</span><br />Patton. He jumped the fence two days ago and hasn't returned. I've walked. I've called. I've whistled. I've searched, driving slowly around the neighborhood (probably looking somewhat sketchy while doing so, but I guess a minivan isn't quite as ominous as a white panel van with tinted windows). He's done this before, and we actually have the stuff to fix up the fence to (hopefully) stop him, but we were waiting for the rains and flooding to stop. And he beat us to the punch.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">The Ugly:</span><br />The fungus among us. Some really ugly yellow/brown/black mushrooms sprouted in the front yard from all of the rain. Thank goodness we live on a hill, so no flooding in our yard, although other yards in our neighborhood did have some minor flooding, and roads elsewhere in the county were completely covered and closed earlier in the week. I've noticed lots of yards with mushrooms, thanks to the rain, and most of them are cute white ones, or brown ones, but the ones in my yard are just ugly. Ewww. I used a shovel to remove most of them yesterday, but missed a few - and those will go soon.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-37614085058650869212009-09-23T21:51:00.003-04:002009-09-23T22:07:12.851-04:00Yes, she's our problem now!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX3BPuEx1uAknVogQ52eBgs3qu9Nae_owX29I5WLtcLuoZ2ejZKlrxNny_eJqnNwBQM5WWk-5XotNrt5nURtne8WI-HMW0_02dKrNVn3BXGVL7D1d9z0YtrTzrSojQ2blXAeX8Yg9cOiA/s1600-h/katy2.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 282px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX3BPuEx1uAknVogQ52eBgs3qu9Nae_owX29I5WLtcLuoZ2ejZKlrxNny_eJqnNwBQM5WWk-5XotNrt5nURtne8WI-HMW0_02dKrNVn3BXGVL7D1d9z0YtrTzrSojQ2blXAeX8Yg9cOiA/s320/katy2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384849584375063586" /></a><br />She's energetic and bouncy and never stops moving like a little furry living run-on sentence. The kids have named her Katy, and I'll be taking her to the vet in the morning, to figure out what she *should* weigh. I know she's extremely thin right now, and I'm not sure if the lack of food alone has caused her to lose a lot of fur, or if there's another cause that will need treatment. When I say that she's a rescue, I mean we literally rescued the poor girl when she wandered through our neighborhood, starving and muddy in the midst of days of rain that caused flooding throughout the area. Katy latched onto us as soon as I called to her, and when I offered her a paper plate full of dog kibble, she made up her mind to stay. <br /><br />She is so extremely happy, and seems to have meshed well with Quinn,* and the glass storm door to the back deck is covered with muddy little girl dog paw prints. The kids are thoroughly enamored, although my Big Girl remains a little skittish about dogs jumping up on her (not that I blame my girl - she's a slim young lady, and our other two dogs could and have knocked her down in their exuberance). Tomorrow, the vet, which will hopefully provide a few answers such as her approximate age (somewhere between itty-bitty-fluff-ball-puppy and full-grown size, but I'm not sure of anything more specific) and her likely adult size.<br /><br />*Patton developed a fence-jumping habit a couple of weeks back, and for a while we were keeping him on a very long chain when we weren't outside with him, but I took pity on him during the rain storms and unhooked his lead. And as soon as it stopped raining, the punk jumped over the fence again - sometime yesterday morning - and disappeared. He may be mad at us about the chain. I've walked around the neighborhood calling and searching, and we drove around several times this afternoon calling his name, but so far we haven't seen him. But while he was here, he seemed very interested in Katy, and they seemed to get along well. Honestly I think he was a bit rude to run off, and right after I brought him a new friend who has much more energy to play with him than that large aging fluff-ball Quinn (so fond of his siestas). Well, actually, honestly I'm worried that he hasn't come back. I hope he's okay and really hope he shows up again soon. And we have supplies to make fence-climbing less appealing and less feasible for him, once he's back - since he has been known to climb back in, I don't want to put them up just yet.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyyKcznXF96XuKTDzUMA4CM5ZpLLKPbh24sbcMRG-7wMJwSQCdtFeZBbBFIz-XODDL65Q00OYt_i8pKcIXUNzQ1wFPPsD-pusoqbg3xk920ijimZH0KgS-g6ChrEc0TkT0cThaJIw-38/s1600-h/katy3.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyyKcznXF96XuKTDzUMA4CM5ZpLLKPbh24sbcMRG-7wMJwSQCdtFeZBbBFIz-XODDL65Q00OYt_i8pKcIXUNzQ1wFPPsD-pusoqbg3xk920ijimZH0KgS-g6ChrEc0TkT0cThaJIw-38/s320/katy3.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384845968384856386" /></a>The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-48276647613974774422009-09-21T13:11:00.008-04:002009-09-21T13:54:09.998-04:00We may have a problem.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfEENBHxDBpUjXnEmWV3W2iJogAPAtQp07feYBT53iWR49ZcdmGkQSKMJVLMp07bYNuu38Fi98X-dRaL7PM_LnFnZ-TmhNwlGJAtFcJjtLoSKm4Rp5OP5izRpi8QC4A24XZLzjvFP7xg/s1600-h/100_3437.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfEENBHxDBpUjXnEmWV3W2iJogAPAtQp07feYBT53iWR49ZcdmGkQSKMJVLMp07bYNuu38Fi98X-dRaL7PM_LnFnZ-TmhNwlGJAtFcJjtLoSKm4Rp5OP5izRpi8QC4A24XZLzjvFP7xg/s320/100_3437.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383979303735591266" /></a><br />Hubs and I are somewhat notorious within our circle of family and friends for being suckers for a cute animal. Mostly just dogs for Hubs, although a few years ago he was easy game for a free kitten. That's how we ended up with two cats, which didn't deal well with the Big Girl's arrival. The boys live with my parents now and find the environment much more to their liking - except when the grandkids visit.<br /><br />So we have serious issues saying no to cute animals needing homes. I've often thought that I would get a big farm and have oodles of dogs with my winnings if I won the lottery. That, of course, would require that I actually play the lottery, but I digress.<br /><br />We're fond of giving out advice that we can't follow so well ourselves: never to PetSmart on a Saturday. You might come home with an extra dog instead of just some dog biscuits and a grooming brush. That's how we acquired sweet Hank, who ultimately revealed that he had some serious issues with men - due to mistreatment earlier in life - and he had to find a new home.<br /><br />So Big Girl came home early from school today due to the heavy rain and flooding in our area. Shortly after she came inside, she spotted a dog in the yard across the road, and she thought it looked like our yellow lab. I went out to investigate, since our lab has, in the last couple of weeks, developed a bad habit of jumping the fence and running wild through the neighborhood. I didn't think it looked like our lab, but I called to it anyway, thinking that I could check the tag and see where it should be.<br /><br />So a leggy adolescent who is mostly, if not entirely, golden retriever bounded over to me. He (I think male) was only wearing a flea collar, and he looks malnourished. Not just in a "I'm skinny because I'm growing up so fast and my legs have gotten ahead of the rest" way, but seriously thin. So (cue sucker for a cute face) I gave the little guy some kibble, and he settled down on our front mat after wolfing down the food.<br /><br />I was trying to restrain my emotions. I hadn't seen the dog around our neighborhood before, so I called Hubs to run the situation by him:<br /><br />Me: "There's a golden retriever puppy on our front porch. He's really skinny."<br />Hubs: "You're kidding."<br />Me: "No, really. He's skinny and leggy and doesn't have a tag, just a flea collar. And fleas."<br />Hubs: "Put him in the back yard. Sounds like we have a third dog."<br />Me: "Really?"<br />Hubs: "Yeah, our dogs get flea treatments. They'll be fine. Give it some food and water."<br />Me: "I already fed it."<br />Hubs: "Good."<br />Me: "You don't think I should call-"<br />Hubs: "No. You know what they do to dogs."<br /><br />I kid you not. The man went from "stray dog" to "we have a new dog" right away. Not even a pause. And he thinks I'm a sentimental fool for dogs, with my <a href="http://cuteoverload.com/">Cute Overload</a> page-a-day calendar and photos of our current and late pets around the house? So we have a temporary third dog. I'm not letting myself think that he's here for the long term. I've made that mistake before, many times, when we've taken in animals that have sought out our home as a refuge when they couldn't find their own homes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk_xNOM5a7VVpYOUPz6c9zxw3s6WsHvzgS4vBN0GM1yZlL17eG5_2AhjYM9OOATdPzwi-kYxowPxyYVJhl9kS0vkvli0fc_mpzfPvTlH3pH7-JqM8YCZAL6h1lxJ1_2GIg4dalKK4Lmmk/s1600-h/100_3435.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk_xNOM5a7VVpYOUPz6c9zxw3s6WsHvzgS4vBN0GM1yZlL17eG5_2AhjYM9OOATdPzwi-kYxowPxyYVJhl9kS0vkvli0fc_mpzfPvTlH3pH7-JqM8YCZAL6h1lxJ1_2GIg4dalKK4Lmmk/s320/100_3435.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383979130995807858" /></a><br />What do our dogs think of this visitor? The lab - who was inside the fence where he should have been - thinks this new kid is neat. Our sweet old golden gave me a woeful look. Very similar to the one he gave me when we brought home a peppy young lab to interrupt his sedentary senior lifestyle, which ironically looked a lot like the look our sweet old Brittany (now in doggie heaven) gave us many, many years ago when we had the nerve to bring a tiny golden upstart into his domain.<br /><br />Did I mention that this little visitor is mighty wiggly? After half a dozen attempts, I gave up trying to get a picture of his actual face.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1N-wgxyJakpJeCSwkhwU8lU-O0-ln3RMZiceoOWoYeA6u6aL0VpUhyphenhyphenHFAcMZuo1Vii2R2D2b1_AtH7xPpEeljH9D2Em4VgZblmBtY0RChnBiOmWNB6l5Hn4DS4QFf7hk1MiVWKeAiSxI/s1600-h/100_3443.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1N-wgxyJakpJeCSwkhwU8lU-O0-ln3RMZiceoOWoYeA6u6aL0VpUhyphenhyphenHFAcMZuo1Vii2R2D2b1_AtH7xPpEeljH9D2Em4VgZblmBtY0RChnBiOmWNB6l5Hn4DS4QFf7hk1MiVWKeAiSxI/s320/100_3443.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383979560964495506" /></a>The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-23058962964063094742009-09-17T17:37:00.001-04:002009-09-17T17:39:00.576-04:00HRC's Conversations from the Heart video series<object width="425" height="520"><param name="movie" value="http://embedr.com/swf/slider/conversations-from-the-heart_3/425/520/default/false/std"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://embedr.com/swf/slider/conversations-from-the-heart_3/425/520/default/false/std" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowFullScreen="true" width="425" height="520" wmode="transparent"></embed></object><br /><br />There are six videos in the <a href="http://www.hrcbackstory.org/2009/09/hrc-launches-conversations-from-the-heart-for-coming-out-day/">series</a>.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-87845398080092034142009-09-04T22:04:00.001-04:002009-09-04T22:04:34.438-04:00Very valuable message<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/u__sBYHo0co&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/u__sBYHo0co&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-34503730237018614032009-08-29T17:26:00.002-04:002009-08-29T17:27:37.625-04:00Story of my life<a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/2009/08/28/funny-pictures-i-juz-needs-it-to-function/"><img class="mine_4984145" title="funny-pictures-cat-loves-coffee" src="http://icanhascheezburger.wordpress.com/files/2009/08/funny-pictures-cat-loves-coffee.jpg" width=75% alt="funny pictures of cats with captions" /></a><br />see more <a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com">Lolcats and funny pictures</a>The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-44284007875380460652009-08-28T10:28:00.002-04:002009-08-28T10:38:53.685-04:00The Delt Duck is Dead!Well, actually, the Delt duck cracked open from old age and rot and ceased to be watertight. And any bath toy which isn't watertight, and thus has the potential to mildew inside, gets trashed around here. Sorry, Delt Duck.*<br /><br />So we're in the market for a new Daddy Duck for the bathtime duck family. We have a Mommy duck and two kid ducks, in case you wondered. A long time ago we had a purple duck and a green duck too, but they weren't watertight, and, well, they aren't around anymore. I'm kind of stubborn about that, and I refuse to spend the time required to clean out bathtoys with bleach water on a regular basis.<br /><br />KMart? No ducks, except a bag of assorted squirt ducks (squirt = water = mildew). Walmart was similarly duckless. So I have turned to the internet. And while I discovered a vast array of ducks in various professions and attires, I have not conclusively found one that says it's watertight. So I'm going to check Toys in the Attic downtown (where I may find a duck that I can purchase for a little more money, but, hey, I'd be supporting a local business and I'd get to inspect the duck in person) before I take a chance on an internet duck. Wish me luck. The natives have been grousing for a new duck for days, and I'm eager to complete this mission.<br /><br />*Delt Duck: This sturdy vintage duck apparently dates back to some unknown brother(s) in the Delta Tau Delta house at the alma mater. Hubs inherited the duck, along with other questionable "artifacts," from his brethren. The duck had a dark red stripe on him - paint? wood stain? marker? of unknown origins and sailed the seas of our bathtub proudly for many years, before succumbing to old age and rot. Hubs was horrified to hear that I had sent the Delt Duck to the dump, but by then it was too late and, well, we have enough stuff in this house without hanging on to cute-but-mildrewy ducks. Besides, I always wondered about the dubious early years of that duck. Who knows how much debauchery, how many frat parties and keg stands he witnessed.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-4564767812512825672009-08-27T14:36:00.002-04:002009-08-27T14:39:05.634-04:00Clueless.I keep getting these e-mails intended for someone else. Some group of women planning a party or something. And I tell them they have the wrong address, but they keep sending me their messages. So whoever they intend to send the messages to has no clue what the group is doing. <br /><br />Today I got another message, and I wrote back:<br /><br />"You have the wrong e-mail address."<br /><br />And the woman writes back:<br /><br />"What's the right address?"<br /><br />What? Hello! So I am forced to spell it out:<br /><br />"I don't know any of you! I have no idea what address you meant to use!"<br /><br />Duh.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-43392318561211529302009-08-26T20:44:00.001-04:002009-08-26T20:47:02.274-04:00Wow.Have you heard these kids sing? Check out the <a href="http://ps22chorus.blogspot.com/">PS22 Chorus</a>. I particularly like their version of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin."<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/u5vrtZKvxWM&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/u5vrtZKvxWM&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2192115583185479189.post-88818435507809564252009-08-25T06:57:00.003-04:002009-08-25T07:03:45.196-04:00Birdhouse gourds!I felt like it was a bit early to pick them, but the vine was starting to rot, and one of the gourds had a soft spot. Probably the tall grass surrounding them (who, me weed?) was keeping more moisture close to them than healthy. So I picked a bunch of the birdhouse gourds on Saturday, along with other yummies from the garden, and brought them home. While I was at church on Sunday, Hubs and the kids (who were snotty and ill-tempered and stayed home) put up a line to hang them across the carport to dry. It's pretty festive looking, provided I remember to duck and don't smack my head on a couple of larger low-hanging ones.<br /><br />Yeah, yeah. <span style="font-style:italic;">This post is useless without pictures.</span> I'll take pictures after I clean up a little, because the carport is looking kind of cobwebby. Invasion of the late-summer spiders out there.<br /><br />The other stuff was several monstrous sunflowers, eight or so cute little watermelons (which are delicious!), and oodles of tomatoes and peppers. So many tomatoes that I shared with neighbors and even took a big box full into work, where my co-workers descended on them with considerable eagerness. That pleased me. :D<br /><br />Pretty soon, we'll say goodbye to the summer garden and my uncle will bush hog the whole thing. Then we can plow again and plant a few things for fall. Like the crazy color carrot seeds, and some spinach. Maybe other stuff.The Driftwood Collectorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15089955656238302685noreply@blogger.com0