before and after

Why, you might ask, did I have two gallons of paint thinner?

My multi-colored house (the one with some grey and some tan boards, and little paint samples all over it) has finally been painted. So... presenting... at long last... before (even before the multi-colored paint samples) and after.

small town life

Today is a very important day for my little town. It's hazardous waste day. If you live in the city, you probably just throw things out. But here, there's been a lot of education about not dumping hazardous items into the trash stream or down the sewers.

So once or twice a year, we put all the stuff we've been saving up -- certain types of batteries, paint thinners, old cans of sludgy gasoline, rubber cement, moth balls, rug cleaners -- into our cars, or pickup trucks if we have 'em -- and drive off to the town yard.

The yard is a particularly male domain, and I always feel a little funny (but also a little tough and proud) interrupting all the male bonding that's going on there. It's where town employees come to pump gas into their town-owned vehicles, where they chip and shred brush (do you think they fight over who gets to man the machines?), and where, once a month, there's an extended recycling moment. People cart down twisted shards of metal, old air conditioners, and appliances, and I bring my own tiny offerings from time to time.

But HWD is another thing entirely. Last year, I was caught in a traffic jam over a quarter mile long waiting to present my offerings. We crept along and I even got to quiz an aspiring state rep about his stance on gay marriage (agin it. Sorry, don't mean to be rude, but you'd do best to talk to the people in the car behind me.) After an hour of idling, we got to the head of the line. They had just closed things down because they'd run out of money, and I had to beg to be able to leave my few items.

This year, they've banned latex paint (just leave it to dry out and throw it away). I arrived moments after the opening time, presented my ID showing that I am a resident, and waited in a line only ten cars deep. Employees of Clean Harbors were wearing white jump suits and industrial glasses, and efficiently handling two or three cars at a time. They happily took my two gallons of paint thinner and I was done after waiting only five minutes.

best buds

Juliet is my cat, but she reserves a special love for Robert. In this picture of that essential nap that gives one the energy to go to bed, it's unclear who is protecting whom.

on pins and needles

Accupuncture day today. While she "cooks," Juliet is relaxed and either alert or asleep. (We'd know if she didn't like this.) In these pictures, she has about twenty needles in her, including the crucial mid-forehead one, which keeps her on an even keel. She occasionally asks for head rubs. I read the paper and sip coffee. And then we go home.

avoiding roid rage

Juliet now has two vet appointments a week. My days off usually consist of a long swim, lunch with a friend, and a visit to the animal hospital, and then anything else I can squeeze in -- usually a few errands. I'm trying to eliminate one of the visits, but I need to learn to hydrate the cat, myself, without hurting her. (I don't mind the visits, but the price has gone up surprisingly, and that's enough motivation for me to learn.)

For the second appointment, we've recently started to give her accupuncture. Dr. Randy, who's both a traditional vet and an alternative practitioner, works with her. The general idea is to help her strengthen her back legs because she has started to get a little wobbly. Sometimes, she can jump onto a low chair and sometimes she fails, falling onto her back, and that's just too pathetic. She takes it well, but her humans don't.

I wasn't looking forward to the first needle visit, but she did really well. Dr. Randy started by putting a needle right in the center of her forehead, which seemed to instantly calm her. I'm not sure she even realized the rest of the needles were going in. I kept trying to stroke her ears, but eventually, she looked annoyed, and when I stopped, she curled up and went to sleep. She looked a little like a sparsely-endowed porcupine. (I keep meaning to bring my camera with me.) And with subsequent visits, she seems to be improving, though she's not all better.

At our last visit, Dr. R suggested that I consider anabolic steroids to help with wasting and muscle strength -- yes, the drugs that our federal representatives kept in the news for a while when they didn't want us to think about hunger, health, or the war in Iran. But I know them from my friends with AIDS. Mark used to have them injected periodically into his butt. It's an intramuscular shot, and he said it felt like burning jello going in. And then he'd be full of energy and rage. I would not want my cat to get weekly injections, especially of this stuff -- too nasty. Now they have a patch, which delivers the drug in measured doses and allows its human consumers to maintain a more moderate outlook on life. But of course, that solution won't work for a kitty (fur and dosage problems). There is a liquid that cats can take, and it might even be available in tuna flavor. So we'll start looking into that solution. It would be great to get a little more muscle onto the kitty's haunches, and to give her one more bit of incentive to eat.

And of course, I realize this is a relatively short-term proposition. The cat won't be around forever. But I would like her to go out with comfort and dignity, and if we can help her have those qualities just a little longer, I'll be happy.

infantilization

Have you ever noticed that:
(a) we expect the wives of politicians (as well as, these days, Miss America) to pick a cause to promote
(b) when the wives pick causes that deal with grownup issues, they're booed and trashed in the press, and
(c) it all works when the wives pick something having to do with children?

Exhibit A: Hilary Clinton and health care (evil spawn of Satan)
Exhibit B: Laura Bush and children's libraries (nice, funny, kind, and gentle)
Exhibit C: Anne Romney (Mrs. Mitt) and children's literacy (sweet, admirable)

Excuse me while I stick my finger down my throat and gag. Now that we know that women are incapable of thinking alongside the menfolk, and that they're much better suited to tending to the needs of children, can I complain about one more thing? Maternity dresses with ruffles, more suitable for five-year olds than for grown women.

OK, so when do we get to grow up? Perhaps if we asked nicely, the men would let us sit at the grownup table. Naahhhh...

following up on two earlier stories

A few days ago, I wrote about the alleged dried fennel that Robert bought. I noted at the time that it looked like dried orange peel. Apparently, the translator was having an exceedingly bad day. Yesterday, Robert dragged out his Chinese dictionaries and discovered that he had bought, yes, a package of dried orange peel. I'm having an especially hard time understanding how the translator arrived at "dried fennel," but at least we now have a better hope of using it appropriately in recipes.

And in other news, we were concerned after Juliet had a seizure that they'd take away her driver's license. To counteract all that electrical activity, she's started taking phenobarbital. I discovered that you can buy it in elixir form (unfortunately, with a nasty cherry smell, but apparently, a good dose of tuna masks the smell sufficiently). At the drug store, the clerk asked about my cat's allergies so he could put them in her record. And after bringing the purchase home, I discovered to my horror that Juliet's life is about to be restricted even further. The bottle contains warnings about: (a) breastfeeding while taking the drug; (b) operating heavy machinery; and (c) drinking alcoholic beverages. And we'd been counting on her to get on our miniature bulldozer and move stumps for us. Darn.

and what a year it was

Today marks my one-year anniversary of not being employed by IBM. My last official day there was May 31, 2004. It's been a nice day of looking back. Do I regret joining Atria or staying there, through three acquisitions, for 8+ years? Not at all. It was quite a ride. I learned a ton, had some great bosses (thanks, KAH), worked with stellar people, and grew tremendously. Do I regret leaving? No, it was time to go. And for once, I recognized that.

So a year later, I'm married (and living with my spouse), dealing with the increasing problems of an elderly cat, spending much more time with friends, working at another enjoyable job, and finally, through the miracle of part-time work, am achieving some semblance of work-life balance. As always, I'm not sure how long any of this will last, but for now, life is good.

another bad day in the translation house

Yesterday, Robert went to an oriental grocery to pick up some staples. He arrived home bearing something completely unfamiliar -- dried fennel -- which looks like dried orange peel. It apparently has Pure Natural Taste 100%, and from a bit of web surfing, might be used in soups and stuffings, though I'm hoping Robert will go back to the store and ask. But we do know what not to do with it:

• Please avoid that sunlight is direct,high temperature or moist. In order to avoid that go bad.
• Do not will this product powder suck in lung department, in order to avoid that influence health.
• Suggest will this product thoroughly cook eat.

We hope that when we smelled it, we did not powder suck in lung department, and we do intend to thoroughly cook eat it. Should be an interesting adventure.