bookerdog.com

So tonight I was brushing my teeth, thinking about what I was going to blog about tonight, when all of a sudden, I had a crushing thought.

We forgot our dog’s birthday.

Kirby was 4 on Friday.

Immediately I thought, ‘Oh! So that’s why he’s seemed a little down lately.’ Then I thought that I am completely insane for thinking that our dog has any concept of when his birthday is, what a birthday is or even what birth itself is, when he doesn’t even know better than to hump on the Jake — on the Jake’s head no less.

But then I’ve always anthropomorphized our dogs way too much.

Then I started thinking how 4 was really a magical kind of age for our dogs. It’s when they stopped being so annoying and puppyish (not the cute, round, puppyish either) and settled down to enjoying the good things in life — belly rubs, rawhide chews and snuggling in tight under a nice down comforter.

Then I realized that 4 is really 21 for dogs. (Who came up with this theory anyway? Is it just because the average life span for dogs is 10 years and humans is 70 years therefore 70 divided by 10 is seven? Aren’t we just kinda forcing our ideas of how long a life should be on the poor dogs? Maybe they don’t want to be 70. And maybe a year to them is not like seven years to us. I dunno. The whole thing kinda makes my head hurt.) And how maybe they settle down like we settle down after partying all those years leading up to 21, then you go out and get completely crocked on your 21st birthday and then swear you’re never going to drink again. (There I go, putting my evil human preconceived notions on the poor oppressed dogs. I should join PETA or something, to atone for my sins. That is, if PETA weren’t the most reactionary, misguided charity/activist group/dumbasses ever.)

Then I thought about my own 21st birthday, and how one of my friends made me go out to a couple of bars, but I wasn’t really into it — I think it was a Monday night or something — and we ended up back at one of her friend’s apartment at Village Square, eating potato chips while a joint was passed around. (Ahem.) Depressing.

Then it hit me: I turned 21 in 1995! Oh, sweet Jesus! That is, like, eons ago! It was Clinton’s first term for the love of all that is good and holy! I’m ancient.

So it all comes back to me. As usual.

Sorry, Kirby.

Auggie actually ate some solid food this evening! Just a little bit of pizza, but, hey, we’ll take what we can get.

Looks like that second molar is starting to push through as well, thank goodness, so maybe this reign of terror will soon be behind us.

So how do you like the new digs? Tim has been tinkering away on this redesign for a couple of months now — it’s nice to see him make the leap and unleash it on the unflinching public. I especially enjoy the links section (on your right, there), so I can stop linking to the same dang sites over and over again. (BTW, Mimi Smartypants today is just too freaking funny.)

Today’s (not-so) cryptic Post It note to myself:

1) Stamps

2) Update calendar already!

3) Baked good

Here’s a fun dealie I put together from our second NLCS game this fall using this coolio app that I found yesterday.

God, I love my Mac. Note that you need QuickTime to play it, plus it’s a squidge more than 13 and a half megs. (Tim’s already hyperventilating about our bandwidth.) And it’s my first try at this thing, so it’s not exactly Ken Burns’ dramatic panning across nineteen hundred photos of Louis Armstrong here, OK?

Who are you calling defensive?

Welcome everyone to bookerdog.com version 2.0. I’ve been working on putting this sucker together for a while using the whole new Microsoft world domination plan that is known as .NET. There’s lots of work still to be done, but for the time being, I thought it would be nicer for me as a programmer, and you dear readers to get it out in it’s stripped down format. Drop me a line at tim at bookerdog dot com if you find something not working.

I’m still putting together some of the older Netscape support for the picture pages, but you folks with IE on PC or Mac should work just fine. If you’re running Netscape 6, I’d love to hear how that’s working out too!

Oh yeah, be sure to adjust your favorites accordingly!

Oy, my friends. No matter how bad your life may seem, take heart that at least you weren’t me over the weekend.

Here’s how things went down:

Tim was feeling better on Friday, but soon got all head-coldy again.

I have just felt generally poorly, with intermittent bouts of hacking coughs. My voice went from sexy-gravelly to cracking and raspy. It is only now getting back to some semblance of reliability for communication.

Auggie has been to toddler hell and back. The molar is finally through, but his head cold persisted. But strangely enough, his appetite actually got worse once his tooth had broken through. Friday, he hardly ate a thing.

After finally sleeping through the night on Friday, he promptly threw up his breakfast Saturday morning after a coughing fit. Tim brought him back to bed with me to nurse and he lost that too after getting back up again.

Now, Auggie spit up quite a bit when he was a baby, but we have heretofore not had him actually vomit in our vicinity. This was a new one, and I’m not proud to say that I did not handle it well. Luckily, each time he was sick on Saturday, we were in the kitchen, so things were easily cleaned up. But while he was actually in the act of throwing up, I could only stand by and keen. Poor baby. I felt so powerless to help him.

But once he was finished, he seemed like he felt better. I, however, felt much worse and promptly called the pediatrician to set up an appointment. She took a look in his ears and declared him infected in both. Both, my friends. That sucks. She also told us that the mucous was probably running down the back of his throat and making him nauseous, so that was probably causing the vomiting.

Well, at least we’re not contending with some virulent stomach flu that is going to rip through all three of us, right? There’s a silver lining, right? Yeah, right.

Anyway, Auggie finally keeps down some bread Saturday evening, then goes to bed for the night. Tim and I stay up too late getting things accomplished. Suddenly, we bolt upright in bed at 3 a.m., because Auggie’s screaming in his crib. The poor little guy had thrown up his bread.

So into the bathtub he went, and while Tim changed his PJs, I took his sheets and blankets and clothes to the washing machine. All told, we were back in bed by 4. Not fun.

Today was a little better. Auggie was sick only once, but still he refuses to eat solid food. He’s drinking plenty of water and nursing up a storm, so we’re trying to keep our cool. Surely, he will eat again, right? It’s not like he’s going to subsist on a liquid diet for the rest of his life.

I’m finally feeling better, although this cough refuses to let go of my throat. I’m trying not to feel bad about deviating from the lifestyle program several days this week, but I’m always a little disappointed that I never lose weight while I’m sick. (That, in itself, is a little sick, no?) It seems like whenever I’m not feeling well, I need comfort food to make me feel better.

Anyway, what’s done is done and all I can do is jump right back in. Actually, I did pretty well today and even made this great roasted chicken tonight. Yummy!

On a lighter note: I’ve decided that I love leaving cryptic Post-It note reminders for myself on my bathroom mirror, if only because it confuses Tim to no end. For example, my note this weekend read, ‘Facemask. Antibiotic. Letter. Christmas cards.’

Tim was like, “Facemask? What’s up with that?”

I just told him that I was studying up on the finer points of football penalties.

I always find it vaguely annoying when people blog about being too sick to blog. However, here we are… I’m sick, but gradually getting better. Nothing serious, of course, just a lot of head congestion and sore-throaty-ness. Auggie seems to be on the road to recovery now that the molar seems to have made its way to the surface. (I swear, the thing’s like a fist coming out of his gum, the poor guy.)

I’m at the stage of sickness where my voice is all throaty. Some would call it sexy, I suppose, if they could ignore the raspy cough and incessant throat-clearing that goes along with it.

I was dying to get out of the house today, so Auggie and I trekked up to the nursing moms’ group. I knew no one there, the babies were teeny-tiny (like 2 and 6 weeks old) and the next-oldest baby had just started crawling. Auggie was the elder statesman, by far! It was good, though, to remember my first times at the group, meeting the other moms and kids in our playgroup and catching up with Tanya, who runs the group. She couldn’t believe how great I look (if I do say so myself!). It’s nice to hear someone tell you that, before you even say anything.

Anyway, that’s my blog about not blogging because I’m blogging sick, OK?

While I was saying good-bye to his father on the telephone, my son, who was playing in the dog’s bowl, picked up a piece of dog food, put it to his ear, and said, “Bye-bye.”

I’m so excited! I just got a haircut — my first one since I was in Louisville back in May. It’s kind of freaky, actually. It seemed like my hair grew really quickly.

Eww, yuck. I just sneezed all over the screen. Sorry about that.

So we’re all home sick today. Tim and I are suffering from some kind of no-sleep disease/cold/sinus trouble and Auggie is still pushing out those molars. (Two at once! Is there no God?)

Why teething results in copious amounts of snot, I will never know. The child is just has a constant river of mucous! It’s disgusting, I know. Plus, there is nothing that bothers me more than a crusty/snotty nosed child. Especially if it’s mine.

This means that Auggie was a total terror last night once again. I turned off my light at 11:30 and he was up at 11:38. Tim went to put him down again, he was up 10 minutes later. This went on, with varying times in between waking up, until 1:00. I finally got up and sat in our comfy chair in the living room and held him to my chest so he and Tim could get some sleep. It reminded me of the early days, when Auggie and I would sleep in that chair while he nursed all night long. Awww…

But last night just sucked.

I went back to bed at 3 and Auggie was up again at 6. Ugh.

So Tim stayed home and we took turns sleeping this morning. I must admit that I got the better end of this deal, because I can nap anywhere, anytime. Tim has a harder time of it, what with all of his daytime-oriented productivity.

Anyway, I was at the doctor’s yesterday and I am down another pound. I find this especially heartening, considering all the pie I had last week. Mmmm…. Pie….

Does anyone have one of these Simpsons talking watches that Burger King has been advertising? Is it passé of me to want one of them? I think Auggie would love it! (It’s for the boy, I swear!)

Just a quickie while Auggie sleeps in his car seat outside of Whole Foods… (Yes, I actually had the forethought to bring my iBook with me this time. Not as good as a magazine, but you know how I live to be productive.)

I probably look like a total stooge, sitting in the drivers seat of my car, tapping away on a laptop with my too-long fingernails and sunglasses. Oh well, at least my child isn’t screaming like that lady’s over there.

We had a really nice Thanksgiving, thanks for asking. I feel guilty for saying this, but it was kind of nice to have a break from ye olde blog as well. I even have a list of topics that I want to talk about at some point. Yes,

I am a complete nerd.

Dude, sweet Mini. I would be totally jealous of them if I didn’t know that there was no way to fit a car seat into the back of that thing. Plus, my dad would have eight heart attacks when he saw that death trap (in his opinion, you understand — I’m sure that the Mini is very safe).

Anyway, back to Thanksgiving. I won’t bore you with the details, but we had a great time visiting with our family, playing with cousins, eating food that was unbelievably bad for us (Tim still managed to lose two pounds–bastard!) and kicking my brother’s behind at Trivial Pursuit. (There’s no such thing as a “tie” in Trivial Pursuit, mi hermano.) Is it just me, or are the questions in the Fourth Edition really easy? (Did I mention that I’m a total nerd?)

I mentioned some time back that one of my younger cousins gave birth to a biracial baby named Cammron last summer. This did not go over well with some members of my family, unfortunately, especially her mother (my aunt). In fact, my stepmother was convinced that Thanksgiving was going to become a big family brawl if she brought him to the meal. I’m proud to say that no one said an unkind word to anyone, least of all my cousin or her totally adorable little boy. My aunt even carried him around and got down on the floor to play with him.

It made me very happy to see that she could get over her stupid prejudices to see that this little baby is her grandson — a quarter her, if you will. I dunno, they don’t have a perfect relationship by any stretch of the imagination, but anything positive is a step, right? I got some pictures too, just in case she forgets…

We came home ahead of schedule on Friday, since that day was my dad and stepmother’s anniversary and we didn’t want to horn in on their special night. Plus, we were ready to be back home where Auggie could break our stuff, instead of someone else’s. He is into everything right now, and staying at a house that is the antithesis of “baby-proof” (in fact, I would say that it is officially categorized as “baby-lethal,” with its hot wood stoves, multiple candles at floor height, edible-looking rocks in the decorations, etc.) just isn’t feasible anymore.

Jeez, I can’t believe that he’s still asleep. I wonder how long I could sit here before anyone would notice. Forever, probably.

That sounded a little more bleak that I wanted it to, but, well, there you are.

I have a new plan of action for my crusade against those evil credit reporting agencies.

Today, on that wonderful show Talk of the Nation on NPR, they discussed the story about those New York identity thieves. One of the guests mentioned that a handful of states have laws that allow their citizens to get their credit reports free of charge. (This was after likening the credit reporting agencies to the mafia, except that the mafia actually gives you protection against criminals when you pay them, while Experian, TransUnion and Equifax will take your money, then still sell the criminals your credit report.)

So, tomorrow begins my rounds of calling my state representative and senator to request that they draft a law similar to those other enlightened states’ posthaste. Thusly, I get a free credit report (every six months would be great), I get to clear up the mess with my mother-in-law’s credit listings being on my report and the rep gets to be a hero among all of us working-class schmoes who are scared to death that someone’s going to steal our identities and buy themselves a Ferrari (which actually happened to one of the callers to TOTN).

I mean, they came out and said that one is not being paranoid if one shreds their junk mail before putting it in the recycling bin. (Dear Santa, I would like a shredder for Christmas this year. I have been a very good girl, but have not protected my identity very well. Say hello to Rudolph for me. Love, Beth C)

So, who wants to join me in this quest? Of course, if you’re not in Missouri, you won’t be helping me at all, except maybe adding to the peer pressure of other states being more progressive than ours. (Not that that would be anything new.)

That is all.

Have a happy Thanksgiving everyone. We’re headed south tomorrow night, so this is all you’ll be hearing from me for a couple of days.

Now, who’s up for some Trivial Pursuit?

I love Thanksgiving. Just last weekend, some friends and I were discussing how much we love this holiday. There are no presents involved. Everyone gets together and has a good time. There’s lots of great food. And the list goes on and on.

One reason I love Thanksgiving is because everyone (in the United States, that is) celebrates it. No one is against Thanksgiving (except for some truly whacked-out PC extremists or PETA freaks or something).

For me and my family (aka Tim and Auggie), we’ll make our way down to my hometown on Wednesday night, set up camp at the old homestead (nee my old bedroom even) and hang out with my dad for the evening. Thanksgiving day, we head across the creek (I’m not kidding, here) to my Grandma’s house for lunch. She makes all the classics — turkey (actually, my dad usually smokes this beginning in the wee hours of the morning), chicken and dumplings (if your family does not partake of this particular country delicacy, I pity you and your kin), dressing, gravy, candied yams (oh baby), homemade bread (so good they fight over the heels), green beans, mashed potatoes, pecan pie, pumpkin pie with real whipped cream and, inexplicably, German chocolate cake (probably because she does it so well).

My lifestyle program can take a hike for the day, although I’ll probably roll out for a walk at some point.

Once we finish spending some quality time with the miscreants that are my father’s side of the family, we’ll head on over (way to the other corner of the county) to my mother’s. There, we will stuff ourselves once again with her delicious leftovers (she rules candied yamland — not affiliated with Candyland — and those evil, evil cornmeal rolls) and I will wipe the Trivial Pursuit board with my brother’s simpering carcass. (Consider that the “gauntlet,” mon frere.)

I am so hungry right now…