Old friends

I was reading a few different blogs about books and had to chime in on the subject. (It’s books. Of course I’m going to chime in.)

When I was young, the library in my town would sponsor a summer reading contest. I can’t remember what the prize was – probably a book – but I do remember inhaling library books at an incredible rate. I’d ride my little blue Schwinn down the hill and get a shiver of anticipation as I walked thru the doors into the cooled hush of the place. I’d carefully peruse the shelves, making sure I didn’t take something I’d read already. While I had no problems re-reading a book, you didn’t get credit for it for the contest.

Nancy Drews were always a favourite. Easy to read and fun, although I was always waiting for Ned to kiss her and he never did. Hmph. I think I whipped thru the Little House books in a week and a half – I blame Laura Ingalls Wilder for my historical fiction penchant.

These were the books I tucked into the little wicker basket on the front of my bike, keeping a hand protectively on them on the ride home. The ones I’d race outside with, to crawl under my neighbour’s grape arbour with a cup of grape Zarex and an apple, brushing away the odd earwig or inch worm that would drop from the leaves, getting completely lost in the words on the page.

I begged for books for my birthday and Christmas and would always get several. I’ve kept them all these years, in the hopes that one of my kids will want to read them, but now that they’re old enough, I find I can’t part with them. I did buy them their own copies – I’m not heartless – although they both tend to prefer newer authors. Hopefully O will be as enchanted by some of these as I was, though.

I don’t know anyone else who’s ever read this, so if you have, speak up. I loved this book. Short sci-fi-ish stories. Not too technical, but endlessly fascinating. The story that stuck in my mind the most was the one about the guy who goes to an All-You-Can-Eat buffet in order to supply his starving planet with food.

I loved this one. I loved any book that dealt with hidden doors, magical wardrobes or being transported back in time. This one fit the bill perfectly. And I still love the name Sarah.

My poor, battered copy of Harriet The Spy. Ever since reading this book, I’ve wanted to try a chocolate egg cream and have yet to do so. I LOVED this book (as evidenced by the missing front cover and torn off back). I still re-read this book.

I always felt a bit sorry for Pippi Longstocking. I loved her adventures and laughed along with her tales, but she always seemed a bit sad and lonely to me. And I still have no idea what those cookies were that she was always eating. Pfefferneusen?

This one made me want to run away to the Met, too. Desperately. Another one I re-read to this day.

I know it’s kind of cliched to like Alice, but I do. The situations were so absurd and funny or just plain weird and kind of creepy that it continuously appealed to me. I liked this one better than Thru The Looking Glass.

It’s a little embarassing to admit that I barely remember what this was about, but I remember loving it. Hmmm. Maybe it’s time to re-read this one, too.

It’s even more embarassing to admit that I stole this from the church library. I was raised a Quaker and we had our Sunday Meetings in an old Victorian house. On the second floor was a library full of donated books. I loved this one so much that I swiped it. I completely identified with Jo, as much as I would have liked to be the saintly Beth or the pretty Amy (who snagged Laurie, the lucky thing), I was much more Jo-like than anything. Meg just got on my nerves.

And finally, the book that started my whole Tudor/Plantagenet obsession. I first read this when I was 12 years old and I still love it. I love the gumshoe detective and I love that they solved (well, depending on your theories about Richard III) the mystery about the Princes in the Tower.

There are so many other books that I loved…Misty of Chincoteague, Rebecca’s War, the Dragonriders of Pern series by Anne McCaffrey…the list is almost endless.

Hey, here’s one for you. I remember reading a book about a girl who would look into one of those reflecting balls people have in their gardens and she’d get transported back in time. I can’t remember if she had epilepsy or the girl she became when transported had epilepsy. Is this ringing a bell with anyone? I’d love to know what it was called – I read it several times, but seem to have lost it over the years.

The baby is sleeping and I can feel Betsy calling my name….


Mold, mildew and mushrooms.

Fucking rain, man. I don’t think we’ve had more than 5 days of sunshine for the entire month of June. May sucked ass, too. It poured yesterday. It’s going to pour again today. It may be sunny tomorrow and Saturday, but Sunday will bring thunderstorms again.

I have mushrooms in my back yard – more mushrooms than grass at this point. My tomato plants are going to rot in the garden because it’s not a garden so much as it is a mud patch. My cellar, which stinks of mildew, has become a breeding ground for frogs and mosquitoes. The sump pump and dehumidifier are going non-stop, to little avail.

The kids are going nuts. I try to take them out when it’s not really raining too hard, but the problem is that is will vomit rain in a matter of seconds. Poor Boo stands there with her arms out by her side and her head down, sputtering and looking pathetic. O gets pissed – plus her pump isn’t supposed to get wet. And this isn’t normal rain, this is like being in a car wash. Not so great for electronic devices, especially $6,000 electronic devices.

So we’re staying in. My floors, as noted in the previous post, are vile. The mop doesn’t do shit. It all looks like hell.

And to make things even better, my father and the step-monster are deigning to visit today, which means I have to clean the place because they have one of those houses where you can eat off the floors. My house? Yeah, not such a good idea.

Just what I want to be doing on a humid, rainy morning. Hoovering and mopping and cleaning the house.

Somewhere along the way, I lost a week. I thought I was 33 weeks pregnant as of Tuesday, but I’m 34 weeks. Six weeks. I only have six weeks. Son of a bitch. I’m not ready for this.


That ought to drive up my hit counter.

Does anyone out there know if you can strip linoleum (or vinyl) floors yourself? My kitchen and dining room have these awful vinyl tiles. They’re white. Who in their right mind puts down WHITE lino in a kitchen?? They’re disgusting. I mop and as soon as the water dries, they look filthy again. My mother suggested I have someone come strip and re-wax them, but I doubt I can afford that. I’m wondering if anyone has done it themselves and if so, how big of a pain in the ass it is. And is it something I can even do while pregnant?

God, I need a rich uncle to kick the bucket and leave me some money. I’m so sick of being broke. I should have been born a Rockefeller….

Bitching About Bloodsugars

O’s blood sugars have been thru the fucking ROOF these last few days. It’s driving both of us absolutely nuts.

8 a.m. – 196
12 noon – 320
1:30 p.m. – 219
2:45 p.m. – 201
3:30 p.m. – 231
5:45 p.m. – 241
7 p.m. – 224
10:30 p.m. – 321
1 a.m. – 418 (WHAT the FUUUUUUCK?)
2:30 a.m. – 356
6:30 a.m. – 218
8:30 a.m. – 176
9 a.m. – 115 – first in range number in days

This is pretty typical of the last week or so. I’d chalked it up to her getting her period but that’s done with and the highs are still hanging around. I upped her 8 – midnight and midnight – 6 a.m. basal rates but I haven’t touched her daytime rates yet. Last time I changed basal rates, I was pissed off about highs and did a Rage Basal Change across the board, which sent her blood sugars down the tubes. I swear, she drank about 2 cases of Juicey Juice in four days.

I’ve injected, changed her site, opened new insulin, done all the things you’re supposed to do and none of it is helping. She feels like dried out ass from the highs and I feel like dried out ass from the all night checking.

Last summer, her insulin needs dropped a bit because of all the outdoor playing. This year, it hasn’t stopped raining in weeks, so maybe that has something to do with it, but still. She wasn’t like this when school was in and she’s doing things around the house (she cleaned up the kitchen. Without being asked. I almost fell over.), so it’s not like she’s sitting on her butt watching tv all day long. I just don’t get it. Maybe it’s a growth spurt? Maybe the moon is in the wrong phase or the wind isn’t blowing just so or I’ve held my mouth the wrong fucking way. Something’s pissing off the diabetes gods. Which, in turn, is pissing me off.

I fucking HATE this disease.

Also, did anyone else in the OC get this? It came yesterday.

We have including a connection to your blog Major Bedhead in our section of connections: PERSONALES, of our blog Diabetes Monitor ( in spanish)

Is possible to have in your blog a connection of courtesy to our blog about diabetes ?

Our link is: http://diabetesmonitor.info
The recognition beyond the sea to our importance you found it in people as

David Mendosa (http://www.mendosa.com/nonengl.htm)
Amy Tenderich of ‘Diabetes Mine’ ( http://www.diabetesmine.com/ )
Kathleen Weaver of of ‘Living With Diabetes’ (http://www.kweaver.org/)
Janis Roszler of ‘Dear Janis’ (http://www.dearjanis.com/index.html)
Dr. Alan Flores of ‘Diabesidad’ ( http://diabesidad.com/ )
la Dtra. Isabel Echeverry of ‘Nutricion Hoy’ ( http://echeverry82.blogspot.com )
Kerri Morrone of ‘Six until me’ (http://www.sixuntilme.com) … etc.

. , who even talks back directly contents and holders of our news

We counted on your collaboration?


(sorry, errors due to a clumsy automated translation of necessary Google due to my minimum dominion of the English! )


Recibe un afectuoso saludo, … y el deseo de que tengas un feliz dia

A L E S * (desde Zaragoza, Spain)
* http://diabetesmonitor.info
email: diabetesmonitor@gmail.com

Rainy day pity party

It didn’t take long for me to remember why I don’t like staying home all the time. It’s the never-ending-ness of it. It’s not like work, where you clock in at 8 and leave at 5 and get an hour for lunch.

I’m having a hard time explaining this to TCBIM. He wants to come home from work, maybe putter around the house a bit, fixing this or that, maybe (big maybe) load the dishwasher and then he wants to just veg. He can always find something else to do when it’s time to feed Boo or give her a bath or put her to bed. I need to figure out a way to say that I need help. Not much help – I don’t want him to do everything every night (well, I do, but even I’m not that delusional), but I would like it if he could just give Boo a bath. It’s gotten to the point that she doesn’t like him to put her to bed, she just wants me. I don’t want to be the only parent, the only one she’ll let do things. TCBIM has to be able to do those things, too. It hasn’t become too bad yet, but toddlers are stubborn little buggers and it doesn’t take much to get them set in their ways.

I can understand that when he comes home, he wants to relax. I get that. He’s a plumber. It’s hot and muggy and it’s hard work. However, I’ve been working all day, too, chasing around a very active toddler and trying to amuse her and her older sister. I’ve been doing laundry and dishes and sweeping and vacuuming and making meals and running errands. Then, when he comes home and putters, I make dinner for Boo, give her a bath, put her to bed and then make our dinner. I clean up after dinner. Meanwhile, he’s been sitting in front of the tv for an hour or more. There’s always so much that needs to be done. O helps, a lot, which is great. But I’d like him to take the initiative and just do things. I don’t want to have to ask every single time I need some help. He can see that the rug needs vacuuming or the kitchen needs sweeping – why should I have to point it out to him and ask him to do it? I’m not his mother. I keep saying that to him, but he doesn’t get it. He just keeps saying “All you have to do is ask.” Thing is, I shouldn’t have to ask. Not for simple things like that. Not for mundane, day-to-day chores. And I’ll be damned if I’m making up a chore chart. Then I really would feel like his mother.

What I’d really like is a break. Problem is, I don’t know where to go or what to do to get that break. I don’t want to start volunteering for anything because I’m due in 7 weeks (ack!). I keep thinking about joining the library book group, but can’t seem to get organized enough to get down there, get the book, read it and then show up for the meeting. I was thinking about learning how to knit, but again, it’s the time to do it. I feel like I don’t have time. The days are flying by – it’s almost July and I have nothing to show for it.

To his credit, TCBIM keeps telling me to get out and do something. Thing is, I want to do things with him, without the kids, and that never happens. I think we’ve gone out alone twice in the last 12 months. We have no money anyway, but still. We used to go out all the time. We used to have fun together. And now it seems like we have to have our fun separately because of the kids. It’s depressing.

Head’s all empty and I don’t care

Name that tune.

It is so fucking hot and I am so fucking miserable. It keeps thundering and threatening to rain, but does it? Like fuck it does. *whine*

Right at this very moment, I am letting Boo colour in her book. Me. Someone who holds books sacred. But you know what? It’s keeping her quiet. She’s not shrieking the house down. She’s scribbling all over a Disney Winnie The Pooh book and I’m just FINE with that.

I firmly believe that space aliens have kidnapped my daughter and replaced her with a screaming, shrieking, hellacious termagent. If I didn’t believe that then I’d have to accept that my sweet little snuggly baby has become a hellion. And that’s what she is – pure, unadulterated hellion. It’s unbelievable. I picked a hell of a time to stay home from work.

And now, the dog. We are going to pay for her treatment. TCBIM and I went up there yesterday to discuss all this with them. Because I signed this thing when I went there initially and when I re-read it, it said that I authorized the treatment. So, even though she said she’d call me, I gave the ok for her to treat. It’s my own fault for not reading the blurb I signed. But they’re letting us pay $25 a month and not charging us interest on that, so it’s something. It’s not much, but it’s better than pay it all up now.

The dog has her back leg strapped up to her body. It’s going to be like that for three weeks and it may not work. If it doesn’t work, we can either leave it or spend in excess, I’m now being told, of $2000 to get her fixed. Guess I’ll have a gimpy dog.

I’m off to melt.


The damned dog saga continues. I took her to a vet that someone recommended. I had explained our financial dilemma to the woman at the desk and again to the vet when we got there. The vet was very nice and seemed very understanding of the situation. The upshot was that we’d pay for the x-rays and then go from there. We couldn’t really tell anything without those, so TCBIM and I talked about it and agreed to the x-rays as a first step.

The vet said she was going to do the x-rays and she would call me and let me know. Well, she DIDN’T call me, she just went ahead and put the dog’s leg back in its socket. It took her an hour and the dog was under general anesthesia the whole time. I’d given her $300 because that was going to be roughly the charges for the x-rays. Well, because she went ahead and treated the dog, without my permission, I now have to cough up another $400! Today. And the kicker is that the fucking procedure probably won’t work! There’s a very high chance that the leg will come out of socket again and then the dog will have to have surgery. We had discussed this before the dog even had one x-ray! That’s why I just wanted the x-ray done, so I could decide what we were going to do next. Now I’m out $700 to this damned vet and it’s most likely a big waste of money. I don’t understand why she did the procedure without calling me first. TCBIM came home and called them, but the vet was already gone. He explained the situation to the woman at the desk, who seemed concerned that the vet hadn’t called to ok the procedure. He’s going to talk to the office manager this morning.

I’m so angry. It’s not that I didn’t want the dog treated, it’s that I didn’t want to PAY for a procedure that multiple vets have told me most likely wouldn’t work. Including THIS vet that did the stupid procedure in the first place.

And can I just say? SEVEN fucking HUNDRED dollars? For four x-rays and a manipulation of a socket back into joint? I understand that I’m paying for her expertise and time, but for fuck’s sake. Seven hundred dollars? I should have been a fucking vet, like I wanted to back when I was ten.

The Errant Dog Part III

First of all, Scott, thank you so much for the offer to donate funds for Sadie. It’s very kind and generous of you, but I’m going to say no.

Second of all, I’m calling the MSPCA tomorrow to find out if we qualify for assistance to help with her bills. I’m really hoping that we do. I hate to take assistance, but I’ll do it if it means I won’t have to put the dog down. I thought I really didn’t like this dog, but now that the choice is put her down or…nothing, then I’ll suck up my pride and take the assistance.

I’ve been a mess all afternoon, having a major meltdown over this. Not just because it’s the dog, but everything. Money problems really suck and we have more than our share right now. I started crying while I was giving Boo her bath and she looked so puzzled. And then she leaned over and wiped my face. So sweet. So heartbreaking.

The Errant Dog Part II

So, the dog has a dislocated hip. At least that’s what Skanky Vet Clinic thinks is wrong with her. The vet at Skanky Clinic also said “I do not recommend that you have this taken care of here.” Ok then. I’ll just be taking my dog elsewhere.

I then called Nice, Clean, Highly Recommended Clinic and they will see her tomorrow. It will cost $300 for x-rays and then they’ll tell me how much more it will cost to fix the dislocation. It could be $500, it could be $1200.

The problem is we don’t have the money. We barely have the money to get the x-rays done. TCBIM wants to have the dog either put down or give her to a shelter. Both of these ideas make me sick to my stomach, and I honestly don’t think a shelter is going to take an injured dog.

I’m taking her NCHR Clinic tomorrow to get the x-rays and then we’ll see.

This fucking sucks.

The Errant Dog

This? Is Sadie. Sadie is a Border Collie mixed with Stupid. Lovely dog, pretty, friendly, great with the kids and as dumb as a box of rocks.

Saturday we had a housewarming party. Sadie, of course, got out and bolted, running thru the yard and down the road with a shit-eating grin. A friend of ours showed up on his motorcycle at this point and she started chasing him. He kept going past the house and Sadie ran right out in front of him and he clipped her back leg. He stopped, but she took off. He said she was limping but seemed ok.

We figured she’d come back that night, after everyone had left. That’s what she usually does. We called her and walked around the neighbourhood, but we couldn’t find her. Sunday morning, when she still hadn’t shown up, I drove around looking for her and didn’t find her. I didn’t find a body either, but that doesn’t always mean anything. I called the police and the dog catcher, but they hadn’t picked her up.

Yesterday I started calling all the shelters and vets around. No one had seen her. I was starting to think she’d either been taken by someone or had crawled off to die somewhere, that she’d been hurt worse than we thought. Today, I was going to make up posters to put around town, but when I got home from the doctor’s, she was waiting by the back door.

She’s banged up. I’m taking her in to the vet because I think her back leg may be broken. She’s not putting any weight on it and she yelps in pain when she sits or moves funny. This will probably set us back a few hundred dollars. Next time TCBIM says “Oh, just let her run, she’ll be fine, she’ll come back,” I’ll wave the vet bill under his nose.

This is why I like cats. Cats don’t chase motorcycles. Oscar wouldn’t chase anything if his life depended on it. It would be an affront to his dignity. Oscar would starve before chasing down his next meal. I like that in an animal.

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