I have been making fun of the royal wedding for months. Especially in the past few weeks, things have gotten INSANE. Prince William and his bride have been on the cover of every magazine, every tabloid, every EVERYTHING. It's as if the entire world has their eyes on London. The British citizens got Thursday and Friday off as national holidays for the wedding. WHAT?! This is crazy! No one in Kalamazoo got the day off for MY wedding! I mean, Jake missed a baseball game, which I guess was a pretty big sacrifice, but it's not like they canceled the game in honor of ME. That's what they would have done if I were a princess. *huffy breath*
Anyway, why is everyone caring about this wedding when there are REAL issues going on in the world!? People are being bombed in Lybia! People are starving to death in Africa! People are still trying to deal with the fallout of Japan's earthquake/tsunami mix! Yet all everyone can talk about is "Ooooh...I wonder what her dress will look like?" or "Did you hear who's doing the flower arrangements?" Gag me. Who really cares about this stuff? Couldn't the millions of dollars spent on this wedding have gone towards something a little bit more productive?
Now THIS is a really unbelievable part - because of the time difference, people in the eastern time zone had to get up at 6:00 AM to watch the Royal Wedding on live TV. I mean, what - you can't tivo it and watch it later? I'm sure we'll be hearing about it and seeing recaps of it for months - do you really have to see it LIVE? Yet an estimated 2 billion people did just that. I didn't even know that 2 billion people in the world (a THIRD of our population - mind you!) has access to televisions or computers. This is COMPLETELY insane - all of this hype over two people. I have been very vocal about the ridiculous spectacle that is this wedding all week leading up to the "historic" event.
Yet somehow, when 6 AM rolled around on Friday morning...I couldn't stay in bed. My alarm didn't go off or anything, but it's like my internal clock said, "Stop fooling yourself. You don't want to be sleeping right now." I slithered out of bed and sneaked into our living room, where I sheepishly turned on the computer to ashamedly watch live streaming of the "ridiculously overrated" event. Rex must have woken up at some point, because he called out groggily from the bedroom, "Christine? What are you doing?" I called back in a desperate confession, "FINE! I ADMIT IT! I CARE!! I WANT TO WATCH THE ROYAL WEDDING!" He chuckled and said "Ha ha. You would." Then he went back to sleep. I felt somewhat liberated at divulging my true feelings on the event, but equally ridiculous for waking up at 6 AM to watch something that I KNOW is so completely overdone. I mean, who knows if they will even stay married? Celebrities never seem to stay married! But, according to 2 billion people around the world and 1 million people in the streets of London, none of that matters. We wanted to see the wedding anyway. Oh, well.
Congrats, William and Kate - on your new marriage, and for making me feel like an idiot. But your wedding was really nice.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
My Babies
I cannot believe that tomorrow is my last day with my sixth graders. WAAAAAAAH!! I don't want to go! Yesterday when they came in from music, they saw me on my computer looking at apartments in Vegas. They went ballistic. "MRS. WEBB! STOP LOOKING AT THAT!" *scramble to turn off my computer* "YOU'RE NOT REALLY LEAVING US, ARE YOU?!?" *another attempt to turn off my computer* (geez, you would think I was looking at porn or something by judging how offended they were). I told them I was just looking at apartments because I HAVE to move since I'm married and I have to follow my husband. One student replied with a whiny, "But does he even LIKE you? I mean, we LOVE you! We love you MORE than he does! Stay with us!!!"
I love those students SO much. I am going to miss them like crazy. I figure I will post a few more of their stories, though, before I leave and have no more to post. :-(
1. While I was on recess duty, a group of about five girls sprinted up to me. "MRS. WEBB! MRS. WEBB!!! WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY!" They were all out of breath from running towards me so fast and all started talking at once about what happened. I checked that I had my phone in my pocket, ready to call 911 if a student had broken a limb or was lying unconscious on the playground. I couldn't decipher what had happened from the loud amount of preteen screeching, so I put up my hands and said "GIRLS! CALM DOWN! I can't help you if I don't know what happened. Will ONE of you please tell me what is going on?" Sadie decided to step up for the group. She took a deep breath and exclaimed, "DONNA SAID THAT CAMMIE STUFFS HER BRA AND SHE DOESN'T EVEN DO THAT!!!" Cammie, the offended, jumped out from behind Sadie and chimed in with "Yeah! I don't even do that!!" Let me tell you, I had to use every acting skill I posses in order to keep a straight face. THAT was their emergency?!?! Yep, it sure was. So I did some intervention/conflict resolution techniques between Donna and Cammie, and they were all friends again by the end of recess. Oh, sixth grade.
2. My students recently wrote adventure stories. Julie's story took place in a pickle factory. Once she was finished reading, Henry raised his hand and said, "Mrs. Webb? All this talk of pickles has reminded me that I need to use mine. Can I please go to the bathroom?" Uhhh...a little inappropriate, Henry, but okay.
3. Because it was raining, the secretary came over the loudspeaker and announced that the principal has declared indoor recess for the day. This was greeted with a loud groan from the students - indoor recess is NEVER as fun. Still, it was our only option. A few minutes into recess, the students said, "Mrs. Webb! Look out the window! The sun is shining! The rain stopped! Can we go outside now?" I said no, that when the principal declares indoor recess, we have to stay inside for the whole time. They started begging. "Pleeeeeeease, Mrs. Webb? It's not even raining one drop anymore!" I said, "Sorry guys, but I really don't have the power to just overturn the inside recess call." I looked around, though...I didn't see any other teachers in the vicinity. And my classroom IS the closest one to the playground... Finally I said, "Oh fine. What are they going to do, fire me? It's my second to last day - let's go outside!" A collective cheer rang out from the group, and they all dashed outside. The best part? I didn't even get into trouble! WOOOOOT! My sixth graders and I live on the EDGE!
I can't believe that tomorrow is my last day. I am still in denial. When it finally sinks in, I fear that I will be a complete mess. WHO in their right mind loves completely crazy pubescent kids? I do. I was interviewing with a principal who has multiple positions open in Las Vegas, and when she asked me what my preference is I said middle school. She said, "Oh man, it takes a special kind of person to want to teach middle schoolers." Maybe it does...but I don't mind being "special." Bring it on, Vegas - you can give me your best, but your kids are never going to be as cool as mine were this year.
I love those students SO much. I am going to miss them like crazy. I figure I will post a few more of their stories, though, before I leave and have no more to post. :-(
1. While I was on recess duty, a group of about five girls sprinted up to me. "MRS. WEBB! MRS. WEBB!!! WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY!" They were all out of breath from running towards me so fast and all started talking at once about what happened. I checked that I had my phone in my pocket, ready to call 911 if a student had broken a limb or was lying unconscious on the playground. I couldn't decipher what had happened from the loud amount of preteen screeching, so I put up my hands and said "GIRLS! CALM DOWN! I can't help you if I don't know what happened. Will ONE of you please tell me what is going on?" Sadie decided to step up for the group. She took a deep breath and exclaimed, "DONNA SAID THAT CAMMIE STUFFS HER BRA AND SHE DOESN'T EVEN DO THAT!!!" Cammie, the offended, jumped out from behind Sadie and chimed in with "Yeah! I don't even do that!!" Let me tell you, I had to use every acting skill I posses in order to keep a straight face. THAT was their emergency?!?! Yep, it sure was. So I did some intervention/conflict resolution techniques between Donna and Cammie, and they were all friends again by the end of recess. Oh, sixth grade.
2. My students recently wrote adventure stories. Julie's story took place in a pickle factory. Once she was finished reading, Henry raised his hand and said, "Mrs. Webb? All this talk of pickles has reminded me that I need to use mine. Can I please go to the bathroom?" Uhhh...a little inappropriate, Henry, but okay.
3. Because it was raining, the secretary came over the loudspeaker and announced that the principal has declared indoor recess for the day. This was greeted with a loud groan from the students - indoor recess is NEVER as fun. Still, it was our only option. A few minutes into recess, the students said, "Mrs. Webb! Look out the window! The sun is shining! The rain stopped! Can we go outside now?" I said no, that when the principal declares indoor recess, we have to stay inside for the whole time. They started begging. "Pleeeeeeease, Mrs. Webb? It's not even raining one drop anymore!" I said, "Sorry guys, but I really don't have the power to just overturn the inside recess call." I looked around, though...I didn't see any other teachers in the vicinity. And my classroom IS the closest one to the playground... Finally I said, "Oh fine. What are they going to do, fire me? It's my second to last day - let's go outside!" A collective cheer rang out from the group, and they all dashed outside. The best part? I didn't even get into trouble! WOOOOOT! My sixth graders and I live on the EDGE!
I can't believe that tomorrow is my last day. I am still in denial. When it finally sinks in, I fear that I will be a complete mess. WHO in their right mind loves completely crazy pubescent kids? I do. I was interviewing with a principal who has multiple positions open in Las Vegas, and when she asked me what my preference is I said middle school. She said, "Oh man, it takes a special kind of person to want to teach middle schoolers." Maybe it does...but I don't mind being "special." Bring it on, Vegas - you can give me your best, but your kids are never going to be as cool as mine were this year.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Spring Break is Over
Spring Break was long. I missed my kids. I bet you missed my stories about them, didn't you? Well, luckily Spring Break is over now, so my students are up to their old antics again. I will explain some of them for you here. As always, names have been changed.
1. I told my students that studies show people who THINK they will be smart and succeed actually have a better chance at succeeding (which is true). Sam piped up with, "If that's the case, then I say I am going to be smarter than Albert Einstein and the guy who invented Taco Bell PUT TOGETHER!" I love that his list of "two smartest people" includes Einstein and the founder of Taco Bell. What a dynamic duo.
2. In writing class, I had my students write character profiles of their main character for the adventure stories we are currently working on. We are working on character development. I said that I needed to approve the profiles before students were allowed to start writing their stories. One girl's profile described her main character as a "sexy seducer." WHAT?! What sixth grader writes about "sexy seducers"? I told her she had to make a new character.
3. George came up to me and said, "Mrs. Webb? Do I have any missing assignments?" I said that I didn't know, but I would go check the grade book. He leaned in conspiratorially and said, "Because, if I do...I just want you to know that I have three dollars. Maybe we could work something out." I'm poor, George, but I'm not that poor. Your bribe won't even buy me a Hot N Ready, so just go do your math.
4. Tara came up to ask me for advice about her boyfriend. She said, "Mrs. Webb, Jordan and I are thinking about holding hands. I just don't know if I'm ready." I took a big breath as if to express that this is a really serious issue, even if maybe I was just trying not to laugh. I looked at her, deadpan serious, and said, "You're right, Tara. This is a big issue. You don't want to do anything you're not ready for. Holding hands is a big step, and once you've gone that far, there's really no going back. So if you even feel a little bit like you're not ready, then don't do it. There's no harm in waiting! And if Jordan really respects you and cares about you, he'll be okay with waiting too." She said that was wise advice. I couldn't believe I really just had that conversation...especially about holding hands.
5. Speaking of holding hands, there is a couple in my class that does their fair share of that. We will call them "Max Grossman" and "Callie Smith." Every day Max writes on his hand "I *heart* Callie Smith" and Callie writes "I *heart* Max Grossman." Then, when they hold hands, the writing matches up. They rewrite it every day so that the writing is always fresh. Awwww...how cute. (*puke*) Also, in the news of Max and Callie, they had their first kiss at second recess...in front of a crowd. They spread it around school during the day, and trust me - news like that spreads faster than wildfire in middle school. "MAX AND CALLIE ARE GOING TO KISS AT SECOND RECESS!" They might as well have announced it over the PA system. So, sure enough, second recess rolled around, and Max and Callie kissed. Not being on recess duty that day, I missed it. But multiple students came in and tried to reenact it for me, which looks really hilarious if you try to watch someone try to reenact a kiss by themselves. Especially a French Kiss (which I am SURE was an exaggeration - sixth graders don't french! Right? RIGHT?!!?).
6. Actually, I'm not so sure about my sixth graders and their sexuality sometimes. I like to think they have no idea what they are talking about, but sometimes I wonder. After all, it IS a public school. Case in point: one girl ran up to me and said, "Mrs. Webb, did you hear?! Connor got to second base with Gina!" I, losing confidence in society, said, "Jenny, you're twelve. You don't even know what second base IS." She said, "Oh yes I do, Mrs. Webb. I know the SONG." Now this was news to me. The bases song? I didn't want to ask, but obviously curiosity got the best of me. "Jenny, WHAT is the 'bases song'?" I asked. She said, looking at me like I'm stupid, "You know, the song about the 'regions'!" *waves her hand over her body to indicate the "regions" to which she was referring* No. I have never heard this bases song about the "regions." I admit I went home and tried to search it on YouTube. No luck. If you know this song about the "regions," please let me know. I want to know what my kids are up to...I think. Or maybe I don't.
7. One day, my students came in from recess COMPLETELY wired. So much drama had gone down at recess that they were nowhere near being in the right mindset for learning. One guy had just finally "asked a girl out" and his friends were arguing over who would get to be his best man in the wedding. I was surprised to hear boys arguing about that. Then I heard the boyfriend mention that he was going to wear his Luigi hat at the wedding (like, Luigi from Super Mario Brothers), and I figured it sounded a little more like a guy conversation. Girls were all rallying around each other, gossiping about who hates who and who is together/breaking up, etc. No one was focused. Trying out a move I learned about in one of my MSU classes, I said "Class, please let me have your attention. I'm willing to make a deal with you. We'll spend the first ten minutes of Language Arts class discussing our issues as a communal group, but then you have to promise that we will get our feelings out during that time and be able to focus after that ten minute window. Deal?" They all readily agreed. Then I asked, "Who wants to share?" EVERYONE did. Somehow sixth graders all want to discuss their feelings. I won't write them all for you here, but here are a couple of highlights:
"My friend asked me to set her up with a boyfriend, but she already has a boyfriend so I don't know why she wants to be a two-timer. Also, when I was really little my cat died, and I think I still have some leftover feelings from that experience that I have to work through."
"I don't know what to do about my dog, because sometimes he hates me, but sometimes he loves me. And I mean REALLY loves me, if you know what I mean *humping motion in his chair* I think that's a little weird."
"I think my friend is a lesbian. How can you tell for sure if someone is a lesbian?"
"I just wanted you to know that Callie and Max kissed at second recess a while back, and I don't think that's inappropriate."
"I got into a car accident on the way to school on Tuesday, and no one was hurt or anything but I felt kind of grumpy. So if I was grouchy to anyone on Tuesday - I'm sorry."
They were so open with each other, and they had SO much to say. They all requested that we do this exercise again, because it felt so good to talk about their feelings. Honestly, I'm not sure I can handle it again. It was SO HARD not to laugh sometimes, and some questions just don't have answers that I can handle. Oh well. It was a fun experiment.
8. Billy told me that his fish ran away. I said that I felt very sorry for him. There's really not much more to say about that one.
9. While working on spelling, I was circulating around taking questions and helping students. Melissa raised her hand and said, "Christine? I have a question." I whirled around and exclaimed, "Say WHAT?! I don't think so, girlfriend. I am Mrs. Webb to you." She laughed sheepishly and said, "Okay. It's just that Henry told me that your real name is Christine and I didn't know if he was telling the truth or not."
10. My last day with my kids is next Friday. How sad! I am going to miss them like crazy - expect a teary emo blog about how I am so sad to be finished with this year. Until then, though, I will just keep telling you about the crazy things they do. The students have known all year that my last day is the last day in April. I mentioned it a while ago, saying "I am going to miss you all so much! I only have three weeks left with you!" Matt piped up with, "Don't worry, Mrs. Webb! We're throwing you a goodbye party!" The rest of the class simultaneously turned to glare at him and yelled, "MATT! SHUT UP!!!" This class is the WORST at throwing a surprise party EVER. One girl came up to me and said, "Mrs. Webb, if there was going to be a cake, like, somewhere, do you prefer chocolate or vanilla?" Another student came up and asked me what my favorite type of pop is - "for no reason in particular - I am just wondering." Two other students gave me a note that said, "Mrs. Webb, please list your top ten favorite songs. And don't ask way. REALLY - don't ask why." One girl found out that she is going to be absent on my last day, and she exclaimed, "No!! Mrs. Webb!! I'm going to miss your....day!" I am kind of looking forward to my party...but I think it will be super funny if there is no party and they are all making this up to fool me. I don't think they're that conniving and collaborative as a class, though, so I bet there is a party. I'll fill you in once I know.
I can't believe next week is my last week. This year has positively FLOWN by. I miss those kids already. You're going to have to read about Rex and I instead of my kids - how boring is THAT?? Well, until I start my next job. I have an interview with a school in Nevada on Tuesday - keep your fingers crossed! There could be a whole new batch of student stories headed your way!
1. I told my students that studies show people who THINK they will be smart and succeed actually have a better chance at succeeding (which is true). Sam piped up with, "If that's the case, then I say I am going to be smarter than Albert Einstein and the guy who invented Taco Bell PUT TOGETHER!" I love that his list of "two smartest people" includes Einstein and the founder of Taco Bell. What a dynamic duo.
2. In writing class, I had my students write character profiles of their main character for the adventure stories we are currently working on. We are working on character development. I said that I needed to approve the profiles before students were allowed to start writing their stories. One girl's profile described her main character as a "sexy seducer." WHAT?! What sixth grader writes about "sexy seducers"? I told her she had to make a new character.
3. George came up to me and said, "Mrs. Webb? Do I have any missing assignments?" I said that I didn't know, but I would go check the grade book. He leaned in conspiratorially and said, "Because, if I do...I just want you to know that I have three dollars. Maybe we could work something out." I'm poor, George, but I'm not that poor. Your bribe won't even buy me a Hot N Ready, so just go do your math.
4. Tara came up to ask me for advice about her boyfriend. She said, "Mrs. Webb, Jordan and I are thinking about holding hands. I just don't know if I'm ready." I took a big breath as if to express that this is a really serious issue, even if maybe I was just trying not to laugh. I looked at her, deadpan serious, and said, "You're right, Tara. This is a big issue. You don't want to do anything you're not ready for. Holding hands is a big step, and once you've gone that far, there's really no going back. So if you even feel a little bit like you're not ready, then don't do it. There's no harm in waiting! And if Jordan really respects you and cares about you, he'll be okay with waiting too." She said that was wise advice. I couldn't believe I really just had that conversation...especially about holding hands.
5. Speaking of holding hands, there is a couple in my class that does their fair share of that. We will call them "Max Grossman" and "Callie Smith." Every day Max writes on his hand "I *heart* Callie Smith" and Callie writes "I *heart* Max Grossman." Then, when they hold hands, the writing matches up. They rewrite it every day so that the writing is always fresh. Awwww...how cute. (*puke*) Also, in the news of Max and Callie, they had their first kiss at second recess...in front of a crowd. They spread it around school during the day, and trust me - news like that spreads faster than wildfire in middle school. "MAX AND CALLIE ARE GOING TO KISS AT SECOND RECESS!" They might as well have announced it over the PA system. So, sure enough, second recess rolled around, and Max and Callie kissed. Not being on recess duty that day, I missed it. But multiple students came in and tried to reenact it for me, which looks really hilarious if you try to watch someone try to reenact a kiss by themselves. Especially a French Kiss (which I am SURE was an exaggeration - sixth graders don't french! Right? RIGHT?!!?).
6. Actually, I'm not so sure about my sixth graders and their sexuality sometimes. I like to think they have no idea what they are talking about, but sometimes I wonder. After all, it IS a public school. Case in point: one girl ran up to me and said, "Mrs. Webb, did you hear?! Connor got to second base with Gina!" I, losing confidence in society, said, "Jenny, you're twelve. You don't even know what second base IS." She said, "Oh yes I do, Mrs. Webb. I know the SONG." Now this was news to me. The bases song? I didn't want to ask, but obviously curiosity got the best of me. "Jenny, WHAT is the 'bases song'?" I asked. She said, looking at me like I'm stupid, "You know, the song about the 'regions'!" *waves her hand over her body to indicate the "regions" to which she was referring* No. I have never heard this bases song about the "regions." I admit I went home and tried to search it on YouTube. No luck. If you know this song about the "regions," please let me know. I want to know what my kids are up to...I think. Or maybe I don't.
7. One day, my students came in from recess COMPLETELY wired. So much drama had gone down at recess that they were nowhere near being in the right mindset for learning. One guy had just finally "asked a girl out" and his friends were arguing over who would get to be his best man in the wedding. I was surprised to hear boys arguing about that. Then I heard the boyfriend mention that he was going to wear his Luigi hat at the wedding (like, Luigi from Super Mario Brothers), and I figured it sounded a little more like a guy conversation. Girls were all rallying around each other, gossiping about who hates who and who is together/breaking up, etc. No one was focused. Trying out a move I learned about in one of my MSU classes, I said "Class, please let me have your attention. I'm willing to make a deal with you. We'll spend the first ten minutes of Language Arts class discussing our issues as a communal group, but then you have to promise that we will get our feelings out during that time and be able to focus after that ten minute window. Deal?" They all readily agreed. Then I asked, "Who wants to share?" EVERYONE did. Somehow sixth graders all want to discuss their feelings. I won't write them all for you here, but here are a couple of highlights:
"My friend asked me to set her up with a boyfriend, but she already has a boyfriend so I don't know why she wants to be a two-timer. Also, when I was really little my cat died, and I think I still have some leftover feelings from that experience that I have to work through."
"I don't know what to do about my dog, because sometimes he hates me, but sometimes he loves me. And I mean REALLY loves me, if you know what I mean *humping motion in his chair* I think that's a little weird."
"I think my friend is a lesbian. How can you tell for sure if someone is a lesbian?"
"I just wanted you to know that Callie and Max kissed at second recess a while back, and I don't think that's inappropriate."
"I got into a car accident on the way to school on Tuesday, and no one was hurt or anything but I felt kind of grumpy. So if I was grouchy to anyone on Tuesday - I'm sorry."
They were so open with each other, and they had SO much to say. They all requested that we do this exercise again, because it felt so good to talk about their feelings. Honestly, I'm not sure I can handle it again. It was SO HARD not to laugh sometimes, and some questions just don't have answers that I can handle. Oh well. It was a fun experiment.
8. Billy told me that his fish ran away. I said that I felt very sorry for him. There's really not much more to say about that one.
9. While working on spelling, I was circulating around taking questions and helping students. Melissa raised her hand and said, "Christine? I have a question." I whirled around and exclaimed, "Say WHAT?! I don't think so, girlfriend. I am Mrs. Webb to you." She laughed sheepishly and said, "Okay. It's just that Henry told me that your real name is Christine and I didn't know if he was telling the truth or not."
10. My last day with my kids is next Friday. How sad! I am going to miss them like crazy - expect a teary emo blog about how I am so sad to be finished with this year. Until then, though, I will just keep telling you about the crazy things they do. The students have known all year that my last day is the last day in April. I mentioned it a while ago, saying "I am going to miss you all so much! I only have three weeks left with you!" Matt piped up with, "Don't worry, Mrs. Webb! We're throwing you a goodbye party!" The rest of the class simultaneously turned to glare at him and yelled, "MATT! SHUT UP!!!" This class is the WORST at throwing a surprise party EVER. One girl came up to me and said, "Mrs. Webb, if there was going to be a cake, like, somewhere, do you prefer chocolate or vanilla?" Another student came up and asked me what my favorite type of pop is - "for no reason in particular - I am just wondering." Two other students gave me a note that said, "Mrs. Webb, please list your top ten favorite songs. And don't ask way. REALLY - don't ask why." One girl found out that she is going to be absent on my last day, and she exclaimed, "No!! Mrs. Webb!! I'm going to miss your....day!" I am kind of looking forward to my party...but I think it will be super funny if there is no party and they are all making this up to fool me. I don't think they're that conniving and collaborative as a class, though, so I bet there is a party. I'll fill you in once I know.
I can't believe next week is my last week. This year has positively FLOWN by. I miss those kids already. You're going to have to read about Rex and I instead of my kids - how boring is THAT?? Well, until I start my next job. I have an interview with a school in Nevada on Tuesday - keep your fingers crossed! There could be a whole new batch of student stories headed your way!
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
I hate MRIs
"Oh, it's no big deal."
"It's just a few pictures of your brain."
"It's fine - nothing to worry about."
That's what people tell you about MRI's. DON'T make the mistake of believing them. Let me walk you through this experience that I just had:
Step 1: I went to the receptionist, who looked to be about my sister's age (15), and announced that I have arrived for my MRI. I bet she's so young that she doesn't even know what "MRI" stands for. Ha. (Wait a sec...what DOES "MRI" stand for? lol). She handed me a questionnaire a mile long, a pen, and a sympathetic look that said "good luck." I settled down to fill it out. Am I diabetic? No. Asthmatic? No. Pregnant? HECK no. Do I have a pacemaker? No. Have I ever had an eye injury that included metal? No. Do I have a penile prosthesis (that was actually a question!!) No. Do I have any number of about a hundred other diseases or problems that I have mostly never heard of? No, no, and no. I indicated that I do, however, have dental implants, because I wanted to make sure that the doctors knew about that so the magnets (the "M" in "MRI" is definitely "magnetic") in the MRI did not rip the teeth out of my skull. I figured that sounded unpleasant. I handed my filled out questionnaire back to the teeny-bopper, and I sat down to wait.
Step 2: Nurse Crazy called my name. "CHRISTINE!" Yes. That is me. I jumped out of my seat as if I had just been called by a drill Sargent, and I followed the nurse to the "dressing room." This is where you put on nasty hospital gowns and feel like an idiot. She ran through my questionnaire, asking me a bunch of the questions again verbally, as if I had been to dumb to read them correctly. I mentioned the thing about my dental implants, and she said, "Oh, that'll be fine. But...do you have any other types of implants...you know...anywhere else on your body?" *looking pointedly at my chest* NO, Nurse Crazy, I do not have any "other types" of implants. I answered the "breast enhancement" question with a "no" on your stupid questionnaire, didn't I? You're just jealous of my perfectly - NATURALLY - proportioned body. Plus, Nurse Crazy, I ask you - what if I DID have fake boobs? What does that have to do with a brain scan? What would you do about it? "HEY CHARLIE - We have a fake boober over here! Better get out the microscope in order to find her brain!" I didn't like Nurse Crazy. Luckily she left me to change, and I didn't see her again.
Step 3: New nurses came to fetch me from the dressing room. It was time for the main event. I walked into the MRI room, and it looked like a perfect set from the TV show House. Except, in House, people are always near death or dead. GET ME OUT OF HERE! I DON'T WANT TO BE ON THE SET OF HOUSE! Oh, well. I didn't get a choice. Nurse Perky told me to go ahead and lie down on my back so that she could prepare me for the scan. Nurse Nice took off my shoes and gave me a blanket. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all... Oh wait, Nurse Perky started talking again. She asked if I'm ready for my IV. I mean, is anyone ever really READY for an IV? But whatever. I said I was. So Nurse Nice comes over and sticks the needle in my arm, after which she immediately said "Oops." You NEVER want to hear a nurse say "Oops." Noticing my concerned face, Nurse Perky piped up with, "No worries! Just a little spillage!" I looked over at my arm. AHHHHHHHH!!! I looked like I could be an extra on Saving Private Ryan! "A little spillage?!?!?" Hand me that needle, nurse, and we'll see if YOU like "a little spillage." If you put an IV in someone and don't block it off correctly, they're going to start bleeding everywhere. Didn't they teach you that in nursing school, Nurse Nice? Huh? I mean, I thought we had a bond! I mentally named you "Nurse Nice!" Thanks for the blanket, but OW. Nurse Perky said, "Wow, good thing we brought a towel in here!" Yeah, Nurse Perky. Great. Do you want me to call the Red Cross? Am I going to need a side of blood transfusion to go along with my main course of MRI? They finally got the IV in correctly, and Nurse Perky said, "Well, the worst is over!" Thanks, Nurse. I thought you were going to cut off my leg too so this could look like a REAL horror movie, but I guess I'm okay with the arm thing being the worst part.
Step 4: The nurses prepared me for the scan. This means they put a crazy football helmet-like thing on my head, stuck ear plugs in my ears, and put wedges under my head so I wouldn't be able to move. They said they would be giving me a "panic button" to push if I had any problems or needed to come out. Then they lined me up with a laser going across my forehead (um, creepy), and said, "Okay, here we go!" Super. I couldn't wait for all the fun. They pushed the button and my bed slid into the MRI machine.
Step 5: I realized I was in a NASA space capsule. The hole they shoved me in was all white, with bright white lights running down either side of it. It was barely big enough to hold me. I started freaking out a little, and then I realized they had forgotten to give me the panic button. So THAT was more than a little disconcerting. I was trapped in a futuristic tube with no way out! AHHH! I noticed a tiiiiiiny mirror above my head. Was that supposed to be comforting? All I could see in it were my eyeballs. Is staring at yourself supposed to calm you down? I checked on my eyes: yep - still brown. I decided that if they started looking green, bulgy, and radioactive, then I would really have a reason to freak out. Otherwise, staring at my eyes was not going to help me. I started searching around the rest of my chamber (all without moving my head, of course). I noticed a small blue line that looked like it had been drawn in colored pencil. A clue left from a former MRI victim! But what did it MEAN? I tried to decipher it. It just looked like a normal line. I tried to follow it like an arrow, and it pointed to another tiny splotch in the chamber. I couldn't decide if a victim had spit out some gum or if their brain exploded in there. I didn't really want to know.
Step 6: Nurse Perky comes over the loud speaker with "You're doing great! Keep it up!" You were a cheerleader in high school, weren't you, Nurse Perky? And your football team sucked, didn't they? Because you are awfully good at cheering for no talent at all. "I'm doing great?!" Great at what? Splattering blood all over your lab and then laying in your medical/athletic equipment like a corpse? GOOOOOOO CHRISTINE!
Step 7: It was time to put the contrast in my IV. "Contrast" is what they shoot into your blood so that the blood patterns in your brain show up in neon. Cool, huh? So they shot this stuff into my arm, and it felt like an ice worm was wiggling its way to my shoulder. I mean, it was a struggling ice worm. Were my arteries that clogged? I thought guiltily of the Taco Bell I'd had for dinner, and I promised myself that I would eat more salads. I think the ice worm made it to my brain, because I started to get a bit drowsy. I quickly checked my eyes for negative effects from the ice worm. Nope - still brown. I was good.
Step 8: Twenty minutes later, FINALLY my MRI was over. Nurse Perky pushed the button to get me out of the capsule, and my bed slid out. She took off my helmet and held up a trash can. I looked at her questioningly. Was I supposed to puke or something? "It's for your ear plugs," she told me as if I were an idiot. Oh, SOR-RY. I threw my ear plugs in the bin, happy to get out of there. As I was getting ready to leave, I noticed that the digital reading above the MRI machine said "patient weight: 226 lbs." Now I KNOW that's not right. I looked again, and it said, "Patient name: Stephanie Gillespie." I turned to the nurse. "Umm...does it matter if my name's not Stephanie Gillespie and I don't weigh 226 pounds?" She said it didn't. Nurse Perky, being perky, said, "Oh no, that's fine! It's probably just for the next patient. But even if we scanned you under that name, it doesn't matter. We'll just transfer it to your right name later!" Uh huh, okay Nurse Perky. And your football team made it to the state finals.
Step 9: Nurse Perky showed me back to my dressing room. I got ready to go, but then hung out like an MRI spy to see who the next patient was. I saw her walk in. If I had to estimate her weight, I would probably say it was around 226. So I figured she was Stephanie Gillespie and I was in the clear. I high-tailed it out of there.
Do you still want to tell me that MRI's are no big deal?! HMMMMMMMMM???? Fine. Then you go have one.
"It's just a few pictures of your brain."
"It's fine - nothing to worry about."
That's what people tell you about MRI's. DON'T make the mistake of believing them. Let me walk you through this experience that I just had:
Step 1: I went to the receptionist, who looked to be about my sister's age (15), and announced that I have arrived for my MRI. I bet she's so young that she doesn't even know what "MRI" stands for. Ha. (Wait a sec...what DOES "MRI" stand for? lol). She handed me a questionnaire a mile long, a pen, and a sympathetic look that said "good luck." I settled down to fill it out. Am I diabetic? No. Asthmatic? No. Pregnant? HECK no. Do I have a pacemaker? No. Have I ever had an eye injury that included metal? No. Do I have a penile prosthesis (that was actually a question!!) No. Do I have any number of about a hundred other diseases or problems that I have mostly never heard of? No, no, and no. I indicated that I do, however, have dental implants, because I wanted to make sure that the doctors knew about that so the magnets (the "M" in "MRI" is definitely "magnetic") in the MRI did not rip the teeth out of my skull. I figured that sounded unpleasant. I handed my filled out questionnaire back to the teeny-bopper, and I sat down to wait.
Step 2: Nurse Crazy called my name. "CHRISTINE!" Yes. That is me. I jumped out of my seat as if I had just been called by a drill Sargent, and I followed the nurse to the "dressing room." This is where you put on nasty hospital gowns and feel like an idiot. She ran through my questionnaire, asking me a bunch of the questions again verbally, as if I had been to dumb to read them correctly. I mentioned the thing about my dental implants, and she said, "Oh, that'll be fine. But...do you have any other types of implants...you know...anywhere else on your body?" *looking pointedly at my chest* NO, Nurse Crazy, I do not have any "other types" of implants. I answered the "breast enhancement" question with a "no" on your stupid questionnaire, didn't I? You're just jealous of my perfectly - NATURALLY - proportioned body. Plus, Nurse Crazy, I ask you - what if I DID have fake boobs? What does that have to do with a brain scan? What would you do about it? "HEY CHARLIE - We have a fake boober over here! Better get out the microscope in order to find her brain!" I didn't like Nurse Crazy. Luckily she left me to change, and I didn't see her again.
Step 3: New nurses came to fetch me from the dressing room. It was time for the main event. I walked into the MRI room, and it looked like a perfect set from the TV show House. Except, in House, people are always near death or dead. GET ME OUT OF HERE! I DON'T WANT TO BE ON THE SET OF HOUSE! Oh, well. I didn't get a choice. Nurse Perky told me to go ahead and lie down on my back so that she could prepare me for the scan. Nurse Nice took off my shoes and gave me a blanket. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all... Oh wait, Nurse Perky started talking again. She asked if I'm ready for my IV. I mean, is anyone ever really READY for an IV? But whatever. I said I was. So Nurse Nice comes over and sticks the needle in my arm, after which she immediately said "Oops." You NEVER want to hear a nurse say "Oops." Noticing my concerned face, Nurse Perky piped up with, "No worries! Just a little spillage!" I looked over at my arm. AHHHHHHHH!!! I looked like I could be an extra on Saving Private Ryan! "A little spillage?!?!?" Hand me that needle, nurse, and we'll see if YOU like "a little spillage." If you put an IV in someone and don't block it off correctly, they're going to start bleeding everywhere. Didn't they teach you that in nursing school, Nurse Nice? Huh? I mean, I thought we had a bond! I mentally named you "Nurse Nice!" Thanks for the blanket, but OW. Nurse Perky said, "Wow, good thing we brought a towel in here!" Yeah, Nurse Perky. Great. Do you want me to call the Red Cross? Am I going to need a side of blood transfusion to go along with my main course of MRI? They finally got the IV in correctly, and Nurse Perky said, "Well, the worst is over!" Thanks, Nurse. I thought you were going to cut off my leg too so this could look like a REAL horror movie, but I guess I'm okay with the arm thing being the worst part.
Step 4: The nurses prepared me for the scan. This means they put a crazy football helmet-like thing on my head, stuck ear plugs in my ears, and put wedges under my head so I wouldn't be able to move. They said they would be giving me a "panic button" to push if I had any problems or needed to come out. Then they lined me up with a laser going across my forehead (um, creepy), and said, "Okay, here we go!" Super. I couldn't wait for all the fun. They pushed the button and my bed slid into the MRI machine.
Step 5: I realized I was in a NASA space capsule. The hole they shoved me in was all white, with bright white lights running down either side of it. It was barely big enough to hold me. I started freaking out a little, and then I realized they had forgotten to give me the panic button. So THAT was more than a little disconcerting. I was trapped in a futuristic tube with no way out! AHHH! I noticed a tiiiiiiny mirror above my head. Was that supposed to be comforting? All I could see in it were my eyeballs. Is staring at yourself supposed to calm you down? I checked on my eyes: yep - still brown. I decided that if they started looking green, bulgy, and radioactive, then I would really have a reason to freak out. Otherwise, staring at my eyes was not going to help me. I started searching around the rest of my chamber (all without moving my head, of course). I noticed a small blue line that looked like it had been drawn in colored pencil. A clue left from a former MRI victim! But what did it MEAN? I tried to decipher it. It just looked like a normal line. I tried to follow it like an arrow, and it pointed to another tiny splotch in the chamber. I couldn't decide if a victim had spit out some gum or if their brain exploded in there. I didn't really want to know.
Step 6: Nurse Perky comes over the loud speaker with "You're doing great! Keep it up!" You were a cheerleader in high school, weren't you, Nurse Perky? And your football team sucked, didn't they? Because you are awfully good at cheering for no talent at all. "I'm doing great?!" Great at what? Splattering blood all over your lab and then laying in your medical/athletic equipment like a corpse? GOOOOOOO CHRISTINE!
Step 7: It was time to put the contrast in my IV. "Contrast" is what they shoot into your blood so that the blood patterns in your brain show up in neon. Cool, huh? So they shot this stuff into my arm, and it felt like an ice worm was wiggling its way to my shoulder. I mean, it was a struggling ice worm. Were my arteries that clogged? I thought guiltily of the Taco Bell I'd had for dinner, and I promised myself that I would eat more salads. I think the ice worm made it to my brain, because I started to get a bit drowsy. I quickly checked my eyes for negative effects from the ice worm. Nope - still brown. I was good.
Step 8: Twenty minutes later, FINALLY my MRI was over. Nurse Perky pushed the button to get me out of the capsule, and my bed slid out. She took off my helmet and held up a trash can. I looked at her questioningly. Was I supposed to puke or something? "It's for your ear plugs," she told me as if I were an idiot. Oh, SOR-RY. I threw my ear plugs in the bin, happy to get out of there. As I was getting ready to leave, I noticed that the digital reading above the MRI machine said "patient weight: 226 lbs." Now I KNOW that's not right. I looked again, and it said, "Patient name: Stephanie Gillespie." I turned to the nurse. "Umm...does it matter if my name's not Stephanie Gillespie and I don't weigh 226 pounds?" She said it didn't. Nurse Perky, being perky, said, "Oh no, that's fine! It's probably just for the next patient. But even if we scanned you under that name, it doesn't matter. We'll just transfer it to your right name later!" Uh huh, okay Nurse Perky. And your football team made it to the state finals.
Step 9: Nurse Perky showed me back to my dressing room. I got ready to go, but then hung out like an MRI spy to see who the next patient was. I saw her walk in. If I had to estimate her weight, I would probably say it was around 226. So I figured she was Stephanie Gillespie and I was in the clear. I high-tailed it out of there.
Do you still want to tell me that MRI's are no big deal?! HMMMMMMMMM???? Fine. Then you go have one.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Coming Out
I had a very disconcerting conversation with my husband the other day. It started out as a normal breakfast: "What are you doing today?" "Oh, nothing much...how about you?" "Not a lot..." *continue to munch on cereal*
SUDDENLY, Rex pipes up with this: "You know how some people are like, 'in the closet,' and then they come out? Like gay guys? Or lesbians? They finally come out? Or even like, 'I'm a closet Ohio State fan' or something like that?"
I stopped eating my cereal and peered up suspiciously at him to respond with something very witty and intelligent: "ummm...yeah..."
I figured there was no way this conversation was headed in a positive direction. I was pretty right. I married a weirdo.
"Well, Christine. I think you married a closet hillbilly. I haven't really noticed it before, but all of the signs are there! I listen to only country music, I wear camouflage at least four days a week, I hunt at every chance I get, and all I want out of life is a good wife, a truck, and a dog. I think I really might be a hillbilly... but because of my college education, physical therapy school, having all my teeth and all that, people might not know! But I am coming out now: I am a hillbilly."
Thanks for sharing your identity, Rex. I'm not sure why it took you this long to figure it out.
I married a hillbilly. I am SO proud. :-/ At least he's being honest with himself.
SUDDENLY, Rex pipes up with this: "You know how some people are like, 'in the closet,' and then they come out? Like gay guys? Or lesbians? They finally come out? Or even like, 'I'm a closet Ohio State fan' or something like that?"
I stopped eating my cereal and peered up suspiciously at him to respond with something very witty and intelligent: "ummm...yeah..."
I figured there was no way this conversation was headed in a positive direction. I was pretty right. I married a weirdo.
"Well, Christine. I think you married a closet hillbilly. I haven't really noticed it before, but all of the signs are there! I listen to only country music, I wear camouflage at least four days a week, I hunt at every chance I get, and all I want out of life is a good wife, a truck, and a dog. I think I really might be a hillbilly... but because of my college education, physical therapy school, having all my teeth and all that, people might not know! But I am coming out now: I am a hillbilly."
Thanks for sharing your identity, Rex. I'm not sure why it took you this long to figure it out.
I married a hillbilly. I am SO proud. :-/ At least he's being honest with himself.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Elsie Cracks
I think my poor kitty had a nervous breakdown last night.
We have now had dogs in our apartment for almost two weeks. Elsie still doesn't like them. I think she is upset because she used to be the spoiled princess who got all of the attention, but now she has to share it with the dogs.
In an attempt to try to make her feel more included, I decided I would let her play outside just like we let the dogs play outside. I think this might have been the final straw. I hooked her up to a lead just like we do with the dogs, and I put her down outside the apartment. She immediately hissed and screamed and darted away so fast that her collar broke off. She hid in the corner of our porch and glared at me. I called to Rex in the calmest voice I could muster "Elsie is off the leash...she could run away...we have to get her back inside NOW." I tried to calm Elsie: "Hi princess! I didn't know you hated it so much outside...you usually sit by the door all day and watch the lake so I thought you might want to come out...but it's okay! If you'll let me pick you up I can take you right back inside..." I need not have worried. The second Rex opened our slider door, Elsie shot like a bullet back into our living room. Then she turned and gave me an "if looks could kill" glare that clearly said "Don't you EVER treat me like a dog again!!!"
I think it was then that Elsie decided to take matters into her own paws and get rid of the dogs. The question was...how? She started by sneaking over to the dogs' food dish and began eating their food. I don't know if she liked it, but she was eating it anyway. She leered up at the dogs after every few bites as if to say, "HA! I'm eating your food! What are you going to do about it? Huh? HUH?!" Unfortunately for Elsie, the dogs didn't mind sharing their food. When she realized she wasn't bothering them, she decided to try a different tactic. She would stalk them.
For whatever reason, she decided to target Tramp first. She hid behind furniture and peeked out at her, and then would quickly army crawl (I'm not kidding - I have to get some video of Elsie's army crawl to show you) to the next closest piece of furniture and peek out at Tramp again. Tramp, who was completely oblivious to the kitten on a warpath, went to her kennel to take a nap. Not to be deterred from her mission, Elsie army crawled to the couch, jumped up on it, and peered over the armrest where she would have a good view of Tramp's kennel. Rex and I (who obviously watched this entire thing) laughed to see just her ears and eyes peek up over the armrest, and then immediately duck back down so she would not be detected by the sleeping Tramp. Her eyes were wide and wild, like how a cat looks when it is about to attack a mouse. She did not leave her couch post, but just kept the peering and ducking pattern going until Tramp woke up. Tramp, who still didn't even notice that she was being stalked, lumbered over to her food dish for a snack. Elsie resumed her army crawling and hiding behind furniture to keep stalking Tramp into the kitchen. She got closer...and closer...and closer until she was only inches away from her target. All she had to do was to peer around the kitchen doorway and she would run straight into Tramp. Well, she peered around the kitchen doorway, and for the first time Tramp noticed her. Rex and I got a bit nervous - what was Elsie going to do? Well, the answer is...nothing. She totally froze up. Tramp walked right by her - literally an inch away from the cat, and Elsie just stood paralyzed with fear.
As if frustrated with her inability to strike the enemy at the opportune moment, Elsie hung her head sadly. Then, as if she just couldn't take this torture any more, she snapped and went completely berserk. She started sprinting around the apartment at lightning speed, not chasing anything in particular but just running around everywhere. Finally she found a yellow yarn ball, brought it into the living room, and started viciously attacking it. She jumped on it, she rolled around with it, she batted it with her paws, she ripped at it with her teeth, basically anything she could do to get her anger out. Once she was finished, the "ball" was more just a pile of knotted up yarn. Then - this is my favorite part - she held up the mess of yarn with ONE PAW and presented it to Rex and I, who were petting the dogs. I'm not exactly sure what that meant, but it was either "This is what will happen to your FACE if you don't get rid of those dogs!" or "This is what I WOULD have done to those dogs if they weren't so huge and scary!" Either way, I think it made her feel better to know she had made her intimidating statement, and she sauntered off to her kitty bed to take a much needed nap.
We have now had dogs in our apartment for almost two weeks. Elsie still doesn't like them. I think she is upset because she used to be the spoiled princess who got all of the attention, but now she has to share it with the dogs.
In an attempt to try to make her feel more included, I decided I would let her play outside just like we let the dogs play outside. I think this might have been the final straw. I hooked her up to a lead just like we do with the dogs, and I put her down outside the apartment. She immediately hissed and screamed and darted away so fast that her collar broke off. She hid in the corner of our porch and glared at me. I called to Rex in the calmest voice I could muster "Elsie is off the leash...she could run away...we have to get her back inside NOW." I tried to calm Elsie: "Hi princess! I didn't know you hated it so much outside...you usually sit by the door all day and watch the lake so I thought you might want to come out...but it's okay! If you'll let me pick you up I can take you right back inside..." I need not have worried. The second Rex opened our slider door, Elsie shot like a bullet back into our living room. Then she turned and gave me an "if looks could kill" glare that clearly said "Don't you EVER treat me like a dog again!!!"
I think it was then that Elsie decided to take matters into her own paws and get rid of the dogs. The question was...how? She started by sneaking over to the dogs' food dish and began eating their food. I don't know if she liked it, but she was eating it anyway. She leered up at the dogs after every few bites as if to say, "HA! I'm eating your food! What are you going to do about it? Huh? HUH?!" Unfortunately for Elsie, the dogs didn't mind sharing their food. When she realized she wasn't bothering them, she decided to try a different tactic. She would stalk them.
For whatever reason, she decided to target Tramp first. She hid behind furniture and peeked out at her, and then would quickly army crawl (I'm not kidding - I have to get some video of Elsie's army crawl to show you) to the next closest piece of furniture and peek out at Tramp again. Tramp, who was completely oblivious to the kitten on a warpath, went to her kennel to take a nap. Not to be deterred from her mission, Elsie army crawled to the couch, jumped up on it, and peered over the armrest where she would have a good view of Tramp's kennel. Rex and I (who obviously watched this entire thing) laughed to see just her ears and eyes peek up over the armrest, and then immediately duck back down so she would not be detected by the sleeping Tramp. Her eyes were wide and wild, like how a cat looks when it is about to attack a mouse. She did not leave her couch post, but just kept the peering and ducking pattern going until Tramp woke up. Tramp, who still didn't even notice that she was being stalked, lumbered over to her food dish for a snack. Elsie resumed her army crawling and hiding behind furniture to keep stalking Tramp into the kitchen. She got closer...and closer...and closer until she was only inches away from her target. All she had to do was to peer around the kitchen doorway and she would run straight into Tramp. Well, she peered around the kitchen doorway, and for the first time Tramp noticed her. Rex and I got a bit nervous - what was Elsie going to do? Well, the answer is...nothing. She totally froze up. Tramp walked right by her - literally an inch away from the cat, and Elsie just stood paralyzed with fear.
As if frustrated with her inability to strike the enemy at the opportune moment, Elsie hung her head sadly. Then, as if she just couldn't take this torture any more, she snapped and went completely berserk. She started sprinting around the apartment at lightning speed, not chasing anything in particular but just running around everywhere. Finally she found a yellow yarn ball, brought it into the living room, and started viciously attacking it. She jumped on it, she rolled around with it, she batted it with her paws, she ripped at it with her teeth, basically anything she could do to get her anger out. Once she was finished, the "ball" was more just a pile of knotted up yarn. Then - this is my favorite part - she held up the mess of yarn with ONE PAW and presented it to Rex and I, who were petting the dogs. I'm not exactly sure what that meant, but it was either "This is what will happen to your FACE if you don't get rid of those dogs!" or "This is what I WOULD have done to those dogs if they weren't so huge and scary!" Either way, I think it made her feel better to know she had made her intimidating statement, and she sauntered off to her kitty bed to take a much needed nap.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Dogs Gone Wild
My last post ended with the statement "I think I like having dogs." RETRACTED! I hate dogs. I do NOT like having dogs AT ALL. The sooner these girls we're dog sitting go home, the better.
Wait, I take that back. That's rude. They're still really cute, and when they look at you with those puppy dog "I LOVE YOU" eyes, it is pretty hard to be mad at them. Still, this week I kinda was.
This week my grandpa died. This is sad, so I will not expound on that. The only reason why it is relevant to this post is that Rex and I had to go to out of state for a few days for the funeral and stuff. We didn't get much notice of when we were leaving (7 hours to be exact), so we had to quickly pack up and decide what to do with the dogs while we were gone. With limited options, we asked our neighbors to let the dogs out a couple of times a day and take care of the cat. They agreed. PHEW! So we left them a DETAILED note about how to care for the pets, and we were off on our road trip.
I'm not going to say that our neighbors are the WORST pet sitters in the world, but I will say that I hope they don't ask me for any letters of reference or anything. When Rex and I returned home from our trip, we immediately knew there were going to be problems when the dogs excitedly met us at the door (they are supposed to be in their kennels if no one is home). They then started whining and heading toward our slider, so I knew they wanted to be let out. We went to go let them out and passed two puddles of pee and a pile of poop on our way to the door. EWWWW!!! We tied them up outside and set about trying to clean our living room.
In cleaning up the living room, I discovered that the dogs DESTROYED my favorite, most comfortable pair of teaching shoes. The "I can only afford these because they're on sale and I have a gift card" shoes. They were chewed up like a rawhide bone. Those shoes had been sitting by the door all week without getting touched, but when we left they suddenly became chew toys. BLAST. Is it rude to hope that it gave them indigestion? Yes, I know, that is rude. I will stop hoping that.
As I was mourning my fallen shoes, I continued to pick up the debris spread around the living room. Rex has (well, had) a toy collie that sits (er, used to sit) on his desk. It was found on the floor, decapitated. It's body was fine, but chew marks showed that the head had become a yummy treat for one of the dogs. Oh boy. We're lucky the plastic ears didn't puncture their intestines or anything.
As I went to throw away the rest of the collie, I noticed something strange in the hall. Was it...cat litter? "OH NO!" I thought as I remembered the fact that the dogs are not allowed in the bathroom. With no one there to tell them not to, though, why wouldn't they do everything they aren't supposed to? Sure enough, they had frolicked in the litter box and spread the cat litter EVERYWHERE. I have no clue why dogs would want to frolic in a litter box, but they did. Further gross-osity to clean up. Also, the cat didn't want to go in her destroyed litter box, so I found a neat little kitty puddle right next to our bedroom door. Lovely. I also noted that the cat's food and water dishes were completely empty. Poor Elsie. BAD NEIGHBORS! BAD! NO TREATS FOR YOU!
So, I had a rather depressing week, but it looks like the dogs had quite a good time. Hoorah for them. When are they going home again? My formerly nice white carpet is complaining.
Wait, I take that back. That's rude. They're still really cute, and when they look at you with those puppy dog "I LOVE YOU" eyes, it is pretty hard to be mad at them. Still, this week I kinda was.
This week my grandpa died. This is sad, so I will not expound on that. The only reason why it is relevant to this post is that Rex and I had to go to out of state for a few days for the funeral and stuff. We didn't get much notice of when we were leaving (7 hours to be exact), so we had to quickly pack up and decide what to do with the dogs while we were gone. With limited options, we asked our neighbors to let the dogs out a couple of times a day and take care of the cat. They agreed. PHEW! So we left them a DETAILED note about how to care for the pets, and we were off on our road trip.
I'm not going to say that our neighbors are the WORST pet sitters in the world, but I will say that I hope they don't ask me for any letters of reference or anything. When Rex and I returned home from our trip, we immediately knew there were going to be problems when the dogs excitedly met us at the door (they are supposed to be in their kennels if no one is home). They then started whining and heading toward our slider, so I knew they wanted to be let out. We went to go let them out and passed two puddles of pee and a pile of poop on our way to the door. EWWWW!!! We tied them up outside and set about trying to clean our living room.
In cleaning up the living room, I discovered that the dogs DESTROYED my favorite, most comfortable pair of teaching shoes. The "I can only afford these because they're on sale and I have a gift card" shoes. They were chewed up like a rawhide bone. Those shoes had been sitting by the door all week without getting touched, but when we left they suddenly became chew toys. BLAST. Is it rude to hope that it gave them indigestion? Yes, I know, that is rude. I will stop hoping that.
As I was mourning my fallen shoes, I continued to pick up the debris spread around the living room. Rex has (well, had) a toy collie that sits (er, used to sit) on his desk. It was found on the floor, decapitated. It's body was fine, but chew marks showed that the head had become a yummy treat for one of the dogs. Oh boy. We're lucky the plastic ears didn't puncture their intestines or anything.
As I went to throw away the rest of the collie, I noticed something strange in the hall. Was it...cat litter? "OH NO!" I thought as I remembered the fact that the dogs are not allowed in the bathroom. With no one there to tell them not to, though, why wouldn't they do everything they aren't supposed to? Sure enough, they had frolicked in the litter box and spread the cat litter EVERYWHERE. I have no clue why dogs would want to frolic in a litter box, but they did. Further gross-osity to clean up. Also, the cat didn't want to go in her destroyed litter box, so I found a neat little kitty puddle right next to our bedroom door. Lovely. I also noted that the cat's food and water dishes were completely empty. Poor Elsie. BAD NEIGHBORS! BAD! NO TREATS FOR YOU!
So, I had a rather depressing week, but it looks like the dogs had quite a good time. Hoorah for them. When are they going home again? My formerly nice white carpet is complaining.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Dog Sitting: Day 1
Rex and I are dog owners for the next week. WHOO HOO!! I was very excited and slightly apprehensive at the idea of taking his parents' dogs for the week while the rest of Rex's family is on vacation in North Carolina. I have never had a dog before, and I am not really sure what to do. Rex assured me that I would be fine; it's not that hard.
So Speed and Tramp arrived at our apartment. They are really sweet girls. I don't actually have pictures of them, but they look kind of like this:
Speed:
Tramp:
Yesterday was my first day alone with the dogs because Rex had class, but I am on Spring Break. I was nervous, but Rex made sure I knew all the rules: make them lie down before they go outside, don't let them go into the hallway or bedroom, make sure they are nice to the cat, etc. etc.
WELL, I would call the day mostly successful. Mostly. It started off with Rex leaving for class, and Speed stood crying by the door for FOREVER. She was just whimpering and waiting for Rex to walk back in. I tried to be soothing: "Heeeeey, Speed! It's okay! He'll be back later, but we can have lots of fun while he's gone, okay? It will be great!" She turned from her post at the door just long enough to shoot me a look that said, "You are not Rex. I hate you. Shut up." Then she turned back to whining at the door.
Temporarily giving up on Speed, I decided to try hanging out with Tramp. She was looking out of our slider door at the ducks out on the lake. She was being calm and fun, and then suddenly she BARKED. I had a heart attack and snapped, "NO, TRAMP! NO BARKING!" Apparently I was a bit too forceful there, because she looked at me remorsefully and, tail between her legs, shuffled to her kennel where she went in like I had sentenced her to life in jail or something. Oops...I didn't mean to be that mean. I tried to explain to her that I wasn't mad, but I'm not super great at communicating with dogs. So now Speed was staring at the door waiting for Rex, Tramp was in Kennel Jail, and Elsie still won't look at me because she's so mad that we brought dogs into the apartment. I gave up on pets and decided to take a nap.
I woke up from my nap because the dogs were trying to go outside. SWEET! Finally something I have been trained in and can DEFINITELY handle! Yeah, right. When am I ever successful in anything that makes an appearance on this blog? Success stories aren't fun to read about. So anyway, I let out the dogs by making them lie down and then hooking them up to these leash/rope/string things that are attached to our porch to make sure the dogs don't wander too far off. YAY! I did that right! So I let them go outside. About five minutes later, I went back to the door to call them back in. Speed was waiting patiently by the door, but where was Tramp? I found her COMPLETELY tangled in this bush/tree that is by our porch. Her leash was tangled in the branches, tangled in her legs, tangled in everything! I don't know if I could get her that tangled up if I tried. So I let Speed come inside, and then I went out (still in my pajamas and looking like crap) to try to rescue Tramp. Finally we got her unstuck, and I brought her inside. She was unstuck, but still covered in a bunch of pricker-like things. Great, Tramp. Way to go.
Finally relieved that all animals were safe and inside, I sat down to read a book. I noticed Tramp wandering into the hallway, and I said, "Tramp! Stay!" What I meant was "Please stay in here because you're not supposed to go in the hallway." In dog language, though, "stay" means "FREEZE WHERE YOU ARE! DO NOT MOVE!" So that's what she did. I figured she would just get the idea and stop staying there, but she didn't. I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, she was still there in the exact same position as when I said "stay." I wasn't really sure what to do at that point. I tried various commands: "Ummm...UNSTAY! AT EASE! NO MORE STAYING! MOVE AROUND!" She looked at me blankly. The cat walked up and started licking Tramp's paws. Tramp gave me a look that said, "Do I REALLY have to stay? Can I please eat this cat?" but she didn't move a muscle. What a good dog. Finally I went back in the living room and called Tramp to come play with me, and she did. Phew! I was afraid she was going to stay frozen in the hallway forever!
When Rex got home, we decided to take the dogs for a walk around the lake. I got to walk Speed, and Rex took Tramp. He showed me how to hold the leash really tight and close to my side, because then "The dog will learn to walk at your pace." I held Speed's leash close to my side and said, "Yeah! Good dog, Speed! See? We're a great team. You can walk right next to me and it'll be really - YANK!!!! - Okay, Speed! Or I'll just follow you! I'm cool with that too, you know? We can let you lead for a while. We'll just, yeah, we'll jog a bit! I can use the exercise! AHHH!" How is it possible for someone to be bad at walking a dog?! Whatever. Speed must have been named "Speed" for a reason, right? So our walk was a bit brisker than I had envisioned. No big. It was fun anyway. I think I might like having dogs.
So Speed and Tramp arrived at our apartment. They are really sweet girls. I don't actually have pictures of them, but they look kind of like this:
Speed:
Tramp:
Yesterday was my first day alone with the dogs because Rex had class, but I am on Spring Break. I was nervous, but Rex made sure I knew all the rules: make them lie down before they go outside, don't let them go into the hallway or bedroom, make sure they are nice to the cat, etc. etc.
WELL, I would call the day mostly successful. Mostly. It started off with Rex leaving for class, and Speed stood crying by the door for FOREVER. She was just whimpering and waiting for Rex to walk back in. I tried to be soothing: "Heeeeey, Speed! It's okay! He'll be back later, but we can have lots of fun while he's gone, okay? It will be great!" She turned from her post at the door just long enough to shoot me a look that said, "You are not Rex. I hate you. Shut up." Then she turned back to whining at the door.
Temporarily giving up on Speed, I decided to try hanging out with Tramp. She was looking out of our slider door at the ducks out on the lake. She was being calm and fun, and then suddenly she BARKED. I had a heart attack and snapped, "NO, TRAMP! NO BARKING!" Apparently I was a bit too forceful there, because she looked at me remorsefully and, tail between her legs, shuffled to her kennel where she went in like I had sentenced her to life in jail or something. Oops...I didn't mean to be that mean. I tried to explain to her that I wasn't mad, but I'm not super great at communicating with dogs. So now Speed was staring at the door waiting for Rex, Tramp was in Kennel Jail, and Elsie still won't look at me because she's so mad that we brought dogs into the apartment. I gave up on pets and decided to take a nap.
I woke up from my nap because the dogs were trying to go outside. SWEET! Finally something I have been trained in and can DEFINITELY handle! Yeah, right. When am I ever successful in anything that makes an appearance on this blog? Success stories aren't fun to read about. So anyway, I let out the dogs by making them lie down and then hooking them up to these leash/rope/string things that are attached to our porch to make sure the dogs don't wander too far off. YAY! I did that right! So I let them go outside. About five minutes later, I went back to the door to call them back in. Speed was waiting patiently by the door, but where was Tramp? I found her COMPLETELY tangled in this bush/tree that is by our porch. Her leash was tangled in the branches, tangled in her legs, tangled in everything! I don't know if I could get her that tangled up if I tried. So I let Speed come inside, and then I went out (still in my pajamas and looking like crap) to try to rescue Tramp. Finally we got her unstuck, and I brought her inside. She was unstuck, but still covered in a bunch of pricker-like things. Great, Tramp. Way to go.
Finally relieved that all animals were safe and inside, I sat down to read a book. I noticed Tramp wandering into the hallway, and I said, "Tramp! Stay!" What I meant was "Please stay in here because you're not supposed to go in the hallway." In dog language, though, "stay" means "FREEZE WHERE YOU ARE! DO NOT MOVE!" So that's what she did. I figured she would just get the idea and stop staying there, but she didn't. I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, she was still there in the exact same position as when I said "stay." I wasn't really sure what to do at that point. I tried various commands: "Ummm...UNSTAY! AT EASE! NO MORE STAYING! MOVE AROUND!" She looked at me blankly. The cat walked up and started licking Tramp's paws. Tramp gave me a look that said, "Do I REALLY have to stay? Can I please eat this cat?" but she didn't move a muscle. What a good dog. Finally I went back in the living room and called Tramp to come play with me, and she did. Phew! I was afraid she was going to stay frozen in the hallway forever!
When Rex got home, we decided to take the dogs for a walk around the lake. I got to walk Speed, and Rex took Tramp. He showed me how to hold the leash really tight and close to my side, because then "The dog will learn to walk at your pace." I held Speed's leash close to my side and said, "Yeah! Good dog, Speed! See? We're a great team. You can walk right next to me and it'll be really - YANK!!!! - Okay, Speed! Or I'll just follow you! I'm cool with that too, you know? We can let you lead for a while. We'll just, yeah, we'll jog a bit! I can use the exercise! AHHH!" How is it possible for someone to be bad at walking a dog?! Whatever. Speed must have been named "Speed" for a reason, right? So our walk was a bit brisker than I had envisioned. No big. It was fun anyway. I think I might like having dogs.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Animal Diaries
I wish I could take credit for writing the following entry...but I can't. Charissa showed it to me online, though, and I absolutely had to share it so that all of you could laugh as hard as I did. Here are the dog and cat diary entries:
Dog Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
Cat Diary
Day 983 of My Captivity
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...
Dog Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
Cat Diary
Day 983 of My Captivity
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...
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