Goodbye

Last night, we watched a show on the Discovery channel talking about those seventeen-year cicadas. The cicadas' evolutionary trait of "predatory satiation" allows for most of the cicadas to survive the advances of predators based on sheer numbers; there are always enough survivors to ensure procreation. After seventeen years of development as nymphs underground, the surviving adult cicadas only live several weeks... When they die, their bodies decompose and become a part of the soil, providing nutrients for the plants that will then sustain the nymphs who will live underground until the next seventeen-year cycle is complete.

I couldn't avoid making the connection of this circle of life to our pup, Regis. Right now, Regis is laying on the floor near my feet as I type this. I can hear Dave getting his keys now in order to bring him to the veterinarian. This time, it isn't for the chemotherapy that was helping him battle the lymphoma that he was diagnosed with three months ago; that treatment quit working weeks ago. Today, we will say goodbye to Regis.

We knew yesterday that it was time. Regis' lymph nodes were swollen so badly that it looked like he had golf balls stuck in his mouth and cheeks. He had two accidents, unable to make it overnight or let us know during the day that he had to go outside. His food bowl has remained at the same level over the past four days. Instead of bounding down the stairs, following us, he stood at the top, tentatively trying to make the first step, then backing up, knowing that the effort might be too much.

But, knowing that it is time doesn't make it any easier.

This morning, I had an interview. I tried to keep the entire thing out of my mind in order to stay focused. On the way home from the interview, I was torn between wanting to get home to see Regis and spend time with him or driving around for as long as possible, knowing that when I got home, Dave was going to take him to the vet. I kept thinking... "In three hours, in two hours, in one hour..." I saw the blanket in the back seat of the car, used for Regis when we would go "bye-bye." What do we do with the blanket now? Or his leash? Or the goodies that we never had the chance to give him?

When we first found out that Regis had lymphoma three months ago, we decided to have him cremated... We'll keep his ashes and when we move to our 'forever house,' we'll plant a tree and place his ashes beneath it. It seemed like the best way to tribute our friend. Allowing his ashes to become part of a living thing that would be a reminder in our daily lives of the best dog that anyone could ever wish to have.

And I know that the hurt that we have now is only a tiny payoff for the immense love, fun, and comfort that we've shared with Regis over the past years.

Groundhog Day Party

Life around here has been pretty uneventful lately. Well, that is, if you discount all of the chaos surrounding the upcoming arrival of the baby... But, other than that, it has been pretty uneventful.

As was exhibited by our thrilling Saturday night, a la Groundhog Day Style.

I actually felt up to cooking, since I hadn't done much of anything all day long. Mike, Paula, and Ella came over to join us for some Mexican Lasagna.


It was pretty good. Won't be a staple in our diets, but for a change, it was nice. It is basically lasagna with chicken, but you use tortillas instead of lasagna noodles and chili powder and cumin instead of the traditional Italian seasonings in lasagna.

Then, we had a bit of "Independent Study Time," as Paula put it.

Dr. Mike worked on creating his apparel for the Super Bowl Hot Wing contest. Gotta love a guy who isn't afraid to wear a puffy painted sweatshirt, right? Especially one featuring a chicken with his wings on fire.

Dave finally set up the Wii that "Santa" brought him for Christmas. You know, for someone who bitched and moaned about not being "allowed" to get a Wii, it sure did take a long time to get the game system set up.


And Paula and I ate ice cream. (Hey, we're pregnant. Otherwise, we'd have been doing tequila shots.)


Once everyone reconvened, we messed around with the Wii a little bit. I think Kramer got more enjoyment out of the whole experience than everyone else. I don't think I've ever seen him so excited.

And everyone was home and in bed well before midnight, because, as everyone knows, if you aren't, the Groundhog Fairy will turn you into a pumpkin.

Or something like that.

Can't Believe We Missed It!!

Being (the self-named) Queen of all holidays that shouldn't probably really be holidays, I bring you:

National Alpaca Day

Yeah, that's right! Although it should be National Alpaca Weekend, since it falls on September 29th and 30th. Two whole days! To celebrate alpacas!

I can't wait 'til next year! I'm going to make everyone a National Alpaca Day Advent Calendar, so you can count down the days with me!!

Brought to you by the CETPD**

What's wrong with this picture?

A bunch of fat, old, white guys... Dressed up in top hats... Harassing a freakin' ground hog in the dead of winter... To find out if it will be an early or late spring this year?

At what point is the church going to take this pagan ritual and turn it into a Christian Holiday? I mean, they did it with Christmas trees and the Easter bunny. I'm sure they could come up with something... Like, this is the day that Christ spoke to the ground hogs and designated them as holy animals that foretold the upcoming Mardi Gras festivals and the following Lent season.

Probably, the Pope won't make it a full Day of Obligation... Maybe not even a Day of Consideration... But, I think it is at least worthy of a Day of Suggestion.

As long as we decide that February 2 needs to be a federal holiday and I don't have to work, I'm fine with it!

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Speaking of federal holidays, when is the Super Bowl going to be made a national holiday? I mean, seriously. I think more people in the U.S. celebrate during the Super Bowl than Christmas. There is nothing worse than trying to party on a Sunday evening and knowing that you have to get up early and work on Monday morning.

I'm voting for the next president based on who is willing to make Super Bowl weekend and full three days long!

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**Coalition for Equal Treatment of Prairie Dogs

Santa's Already Visited, So Screw This Being Good Stuff!

Dave and I rewrote the words to a few Christmas/Winter songs... My favorite is "Prosty the Snow Whore." We were pretty impressed with our originality, but, alas, at least one other person knows of Prosty and has posted about her on the Net. Oh, well.


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Q: Why do seagulls fly by the sea?


A: Because if they flew by the bay, they'd be bagels! (Bay-Gulls! Get it?)

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Driving down to Warsaw, MO over the weekend, Dave and I saw lots of these round hay bales.


I read somewhere recently that they are actually illegal in most states.


Apparently, the horses don't get a square meal!


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Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?

A: To get the Chinese newspaper.


Do you get it? Me, neither! I get the St. Louis Post Dispatch!

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Okay, sorry for all that. But, maybe it made you chuckle just a little bit. Don't let the post-holiday blues get you down!

Suicidal Squirrels

This morning a squirrel ran out in front of my car as I was on my way to work.

I clenched my eyes and waited to hear a thump or crunch but heard neither. I willed myself not to look in my review mirror, not wanting to know if the squirrel had gone to meet his maker.

I gave in and peeked timidly into the rearview. No squirrel! He had survived! I was not a squirrel murderer... today!

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Last spring, I was driving down a road. It was two lanes both ways and separated by an island of grass and shrubberies between.

As I drove, I saw a squirrel begin to cross the other two lanes of traffic.

"Poor little squirrel," I thought. "I hope he doesn't get hit!"

The squirrel sprinted across the two lanes of traffic and safely made it to the grassy area in the middle of the road.

Then, the squirrel, as if he had not had enough excitement for the day, decided to sprint across my lanes of traffic. I slowed down, watching him, not wanting to have guilt and squirrel guts smooshed all over my car.

He made it across my lane of traffic just as a car on the right side of me sped past...

The squirrel made a u-turn to try to escape back to the safety of the landscaped island...

And ran directly under the right front tire of my car.

I looked in the rearview mirror that time and saw the smashed squirrel on the road.

I had done it... I had made roadkill.

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I remember as a child, I was the oldest of two girls. My little brother was not born until I was nine years old, so my father used to try to get me involved in his interests since he didn't have a son.

My dad liked to go hunting.

He would take me down to Grandma and Grandpa's house, which sat on about sixty acres of woods, to go squirrel hunting. We would go down on a Friday night and wake up before the sun came up on Sunday morning.

Dad and I would walk through the woods, looking for little squirrels hopping from branch to branch, enjoying the brisk fall air. Dad carried his rifle and would expertly shoot the the squirrels.

Then he and I would tromp through the brush and leaves and look for the fallen creature. When we found him, I would pull out a plastic grocery bag. Dad would pick it up and put it in the bag. It was my job to carry the deceased until we were finished hunting and back at the house where Dad would skin the squirrels.

Dad might as well have brought a hound dog with him. At least the hound dog wouldn't have talked the whole time and scared the squirrels away.

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One time, Grandma made squirrel stew. It looked like it still had hairs in the meat. I refused to eat it.

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And while we're on the subject:

Laundry

The laundry piles up, higher and higher,
I sigh and look at the washer and dryer.

I throw it all in: pants, sweaters, and socks,
Some colors, some whites, my skirts and my frocks.

One cupful of detergent; then one dryer sheet,
The clothes come out clean and warm from the heat.

I take each piece out and fold it with care,
Put them in the basket, all ready to wear.

I tell myself, "I'll put them away soon,"
Then my cats find the perfect place to spend the afternoon...

Why do I even bother?

Meet my kitties, Jasmine and Ariel. Oh, and by the way... I don't actually own any frocks, but it rhymed with socks, so freakin' lay off, okay?

Hellbent on saving the Hellbender!

The Ozark Hellbender is in trouble...

The St. Louis Zoo is doing what it can to help this slug-like salamander. But, it seems to many people that the Hellbender has too many obstacles to overcome.

The first enemy forcing this species onto the endangered species list is the dreaded chytrid (pronounced ky-trid) fungus. This fungus has been running rampant in the Hellbender's habitats. It is an African fungus (don't ask me how it got here!) and whenever it arrives in an area, it kills 80% of the amphibians in the area within one year.

In addition to the problems of humans destroying the habitats of the Hellbender, there is one other small problem.

Birth control.

Yep, that's right. Birth control. Apparently, women take birth control. Then, they go floating, swimming, whatever in the rivers and lakes where the Hellbender live. Usually drinking as they do this, eventually the women need to urinate. They do so in the water. The hormones from the birth control are then deposited along with the pee into the water. This in turn gets causes the Hellbender to have an imbalance in hormones, causing them to be unable to reproduce.

So what is the solution to this problem? Port-a-potties along the river? People wouldn't use them anyway. Not allowing women who want to swim in the (already contaminated) waters of Missouri to take birth control? Please, not that! Many of these women do not need to be reproducing.

Looks like the Ozark Hellbender has a long road to travel before making it off the endangered species list.