I love Christmas tree lights. I don’t know as that one can ever have enough. In fact, my parents finally set a rule for me when I was growing up that I couldn’t have light strands totaling more than 1,000 lights in my bedroom. I’d take a staple gun & weave them across my ceiling, around the walls, on multiple small trees in my room, etc. Dad called it a fire hazard; I called him Scrooge. Potayto-Potahto.
At any rate, lights can be a royal pain in the butt to get on a tree—and pre-lit trees never have enough for my liking. So, I came up with an alternative to this dilemma a few years back. My solution: icicle lights. Yes, those very same lights you can put outside of your house also make for a quick fix to an under-lit tree. (Make sure you get the ones with the green cords & the same light color as those already on your tree.) While I do love clear Christmas lights, I do make the exception to do solid-colored lights when it matches the tree’s décor. For instance, I have blue lights that I put in the center of the tree (so that it glows on the inside) when I put my blue-themed ornament set on it. Then I put the clear icicle lights on it, so as to not overdo it with the colored kind.
How does this work, you ask? I shall tell you, kind reader. Fret not. First, you can eliminate any visions you may have of these strands of lights just dangling willy-nilly to and fro from the tree. That’s not what we’re going for here. Refer to my Christmas Décor blog entry for a picture of my tree. That should give you a picture of what we’re going for:
http://kadertot.blogspot.com/2010/11/christmas-tip-decor-purchasingdecoratin.html
What you’re going to do is, starting at the bottom, somewhat loosely wind the icicle lights around the tree, using the back of the tree to hide plugs, transitions to other branch rows, etc. Then, you start at the bottom and work the lights into the tree. Slide the cord back in, working the dangling strands into the branches, so that you get more lighting from the inside out. Don’t let them drop down or dangle or anything—just weave the cords into the branches. You may find that, when you get to the top, you have extra length. That’s just fine—work it back down the tree, making sure to stretch it out as much as possible so that it doesn’t look like a huge cluster of lights on one section and not on the other. It’s a super easy solution to adding hundreds of lights to the tree while only using a couple of strands. (If it helps in determining how many you need, I have two strands—not sure of length, but whatever’s standard—for a 7.5’ tree.)
The other part of Christmas lights that can be frustrating is when it comes to storing them. Many end up with globs of lights that are knotted together and just total messes. There’s no need for it when there’s a free solution. Get a cardboard box and cut the lids flaps off of it. (The bigger, the better.) You can cut a small inlet on the edge of it, in which you would slide the end of the cord that has an open plug, giving it an anchor point. If you don’t cut the inlet, no biggie. The cord will stay in place when you get it wrapped around the flap enough. Pull the cord as tight as possible while you’re wrapping it—and wrapping the long-way on the flap works the easiest. Be absolutely sure that you start with the open socket, as you want to end with the actual plug. That way, when you go to use them the next time, you’ll have the end that you need right off the bat, without having to unravel them to get to the other end.
To secure the end of it, take a couple of feet of the cord and wrap it around the flap from side-to-side so that it pulls the wrapped lights that went on end-to-end towards the flap and keeps them more secure. Then, tuck the end into one of the loops. When you go to put the lights on the next time, you simple have to untuck that end, unravel those couple of feet and then you can unravel the rest of the lights as you work your way around the tree. It works the same when you go to take them off—ravel them onto the flap as you undecorate. You are saving yourself a bunch of time and headache by doing so!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Christmas Tip: Tinsel Alternatives
Growing up, my parents had this shaggy metallic tinsel (that most likely was NOT fire resistant, now that I think about it) that somehow lasted years and years. And by years and years, I mean I think my mom still has some of it in her Christmas boxes even today. When the tinsel rope broke, we taped it. (Not only were we poor, but we had no shame either. Sometimes this can also be a lethal combination, as evidenced by 95% of Wal-Mart’s customers…) The tinsel was in gold, silver, a gold and silver combo, red and blue. And we used it all. On the same tree, no less. (I prefer to call that look “traditional”.) At the time, it was probably quite stylish. In case you missed it, it isn’t stylish today. (Neither are those “icicle” metal strands you fling on tree branches. Nor is flocking…though I do have a good story about that from my high school days. I’ll save it for another day.) And, unless you have a five-year-old, popcorn strands are also out.
So then, you wonder, what can you use instead?! Many things. Many, many things. A naked tree, even, is more preferable than to use that shaggy tinsel. But, here are a few alternatives that have worked for me or others I know:
1) Ribbon. You’ll most likely need to get the wired ribbon, which admittedly can get a bit pricey (again, buy post-Christmas and save it for the next year). That tends to create the best look. And, if you’re handy at tying big, beautiful bows (I’m not; gratefully, Artis is), then you can buy lots of it and also make a tree topper out of it so that you have a more coordinated look & not some freaky glowing angel with a plastic skirt looking back at you from the top of the tree until you take the tree down. Be sure to buy very neutral colors on this (golds, silvers—red or green if you’ve got a more traditional look) so that you can use it for some time without it looking out-of-style. (To store it, keep the rolls it came on & re-roll it on that. Alternatively, you can cut a flap off of a cardboard box and use that as the core around which you wrap the ribbon.) You can either do ribbon in circles around each row of branches, or you can do ribbon cascading down the sides of the tree from the top—which is another great time to use a bow tree topper with the same ribbon.
2) Bows. I suppose you could do bows in addition to ribbon strands, but that could go bad very, very quickly. So, it’s best to do one over the other. The nice thing about bows is that they’re usually a little easier to store (though they do require re-fluffing from having been flattened) and you can vary bow sizes on the same tree (just don’t get too crazy with it). You can also use more patterned ribbons on this & it won’t look as insane as if you were to use the same patterned ribbon in rows around the tree or cascading from the top. Be sure to get the floral wire for this, as you will need to be able to secure the bows to the tree itself. (Plus, floral wire is really thin & isn’t noticeable against a green tree.)
3) Picks. When I bought my first grown-up tree décor a few years back, I came across some decorative picks at the store. There were really long sticks with silver pinecones affixed to the ends of them, along with picks of silver tree branches and also long, coiled decorative silver sticks. I imagine that each of these items was originally intended to be used in large floral arrangements, but I found that they work great on trees too! They add a fun dimension to it. The sticks tend to be hidden at the center of the tree by the time you put on all the other ornaments. With the ornament set I bought last year, I bought cranberry picks that were designed to be used on gift boxes. They have much shorter sticks on them, so it was a lot easier to work with & yet accomplished the same goal. You see the cranberry groups sticking out of the tree here and there, giving it a fun look while not being nearly as glaring as silver tinsel that’s been taped together. Another good type of “pick” you could use would be peacock feathers. (Again, it’d be for a very specific look. But, it would add another dimension and some fun color.)
4) Bead strands. I’m not talking about Mardi Gras-style bead strands here. You’ll need to find ones that are specifically designed to go around Christmas trees, but when done correctly this can be a really elegant touch.
5) Feather boas. Now, before you think I’ve lost my mind, hear me out. How, you ask, is a feather boa any more stylish than taped-together tinsel? It is when it’s part of a very specific look & when done well. I would not recommend doing a feather boa on a regular pine tree. You need a colored tree—silver, white, black, purple, pink, blue, etc., to pull this one off. You’re also going to have to go with a really elegant look or a really playful look. Anything in-between would be disastrous. You’d probably end up looking like a psychotic hooker attacked your tree. And that’s never a good look. Instead, consider doing a white tree with black feather boas, clear lights and gold & silver ornaments. Or, do a purple tree with pink feather boas, lime green and bright blue ornaments, and solid-colored lights that match. (I’m not a fan of multi-color lights, so I’m a strong advocate for solid colors.)
Remember, regardless of which method you use, put it on the tree before putting on the ornaments. Tinsel, or tinsel alternatives at least, can really make a tree’s overall look come together. I can’t wait to see what I find at the post-Christmas sales this year!
So then, you wonder, what can you use instead?! Many things. Many, many things. A naked tree, even, is more preferable than to use that shaggy tinsel. But, here are a few alternatives that have worked for me or others I know:
1) Ribbon. You’ll most likely need to get the wired ribbon, which admittedly can get a bit pricey (again, buy post-Christmas and save it for the next year). That tends to create the best look. And, if you’re handy at tying big, beautiful bows (I’m not; gratefully, Artis is), then you can buy lots of it and also make a tree topper out of it so that you have a more coordinated look & not some freaky glowing angel with a plastic skirt looking back at you from the top of the tree until you take the tree down. Be sure to buy very neutral colors on this (golds, silvers—red or green if you’ve got a more traditional look) so that you can use it for some time without it looking out-of-style. (To store it, keep the rolls it came on & re-roll it on that. Alternatively, you can cut a flap off of a cardboard box and use that as the core around which you wrap the ribbon.) You can either do ribbon in circles around each row of branches, or you can do ribbon cascading down the sides of the tree from the top—which is another great time to use a bow tree topper with the same ribbon.
2) Bows. I suppose you could do bows in addition to ribbon strands, but that could go bad very, very quickly. So, it’s best to do one over the other. The nice thing about bows is that they’re usually a little easier to store (though they do require re-fluffing from having been flattened) and you can vary bow sizes on the same tree (just don’t get too crazy with it). You can also use more patterned ribbons on this & it won’t look as insane as if you were to use the same patterned ribbon in rows around the tree or cascading from the top. Be sure to get the floral wire for this, as you will need to be able to secure the bows to the tree itself. (Plus, floral wire is really thin & isn’t noticeable against a green tree.)
3) Picks. When I bought my first grown-up tree décor a few years back, I came across some decorative picks at the store. There were really long sticks with silver pinecones affixed to the ends of them, along with picks of silver tree branches and also long, coiled decorative silver sticks. I imagine that each of these items was originally intended to be used in large floral arrangements, but I found that they work great on trees too! They add a fun dimension to it. The sticks tend to be hidden at the center of the tree by the time you put on all the other ornaments. With the ornament set I bought last year, I bought cranberry picks that were designed to be used on gift boxes. They have much shorter sticks on them, so it was a lot easier to work with & yet accomplished the same goal. You see the cranberry groups sticking out of the tree here and there, giving it a fun look while not being nearly as glaring as silver tinsel that’s been taped together. Another good type of “pick” you could use would be peacock feathers. (Again, it’d be for a very specific look. But, it would add another dimension and some fun color.)
4) Bead strands. I’m not talking about Mardi Gras-style bead strands here. You’ll need to find ones that are specifically designed to go around Christmas trees, but when done correctly this can be a really elegant touch.
5) Feather boas. Now, before you think I’ve lost my mind, hear me out. How, you ask, is a feather boa any more stylish than taped-together tinsel? It is when it’s part of a very specific look & when done well. I would not recommend doing a feather boa on a regular pine tree. You need a colored tree—silver, white, black, purple, pink, blue, etc., to pull this one off. You’re also going to have to go with a really elegant look or a really playful look. Anything in-between would be disastrous. You’d probably end up looking like a psychotic hooker attacked your tree. And that’s never a good look. Instead, consider doing a white tree with black feather boas, clear lights and gold & silver ornaments. Or, do a purple tree with pink feather boas, lime green and bright blue ornaments, and solid-colored lights that match. (I’m not a fan of multi-color lights, so I’m a strong advocate for solid colors.)
Remember, regardless of which method you use, put it on the tree before putting on the ornaments. Tinsel, or tinsel alternatives at least, can really make a tree’s overall look come together. I can’t wait to see what I find at the post-Christmas sales this year!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Christmas Tip: Decor Purchasing/Decorating
Greetings!
So, I was a busy little bee this weekend & got one of our Christmas trees put up and decorated. I know, I know…it’s not even Thanksgiving. But, here’s the deal—if I didn’t do it this weekend, it wouldn’t have happened. And I’m not about to skip putting up my Christmas tree. The next several weeks are jam-packed, so it was a necessity—and a fun necessity at that!
In putting up said tree, I was reminding myself of little tricks and tips here and there that I’ve either learned the hard way or acquired from various people over the years. (For those who don’t know me, Christmas is totally my holiday. Well, mine and Jesus’. I just lease the bulk of my share to Santa.) It was while thinking these things over that I realized it’d be good to write them down, which lead to the thought I should share them with others too, which lead to the thought that I’m a slacker at blogging & this would be the perfect thing to write about…as long as I can remember to do so. So, I shall share tips & tricks as they come to me. Some may come across as no-brainers, but hopefully something useful will be shared.
I should also warn you that, while I love to do things over-the-top, I am also quite frugal and always on the lookout for a good deal. Which leads me to one of the two tips I’m sharing today:
1) Buy your Christmas supplies a year in advance. I know it can be a pain to store things like wrapping paper & that it takes up space (under-bed sweater boxes work well for this purpose), but it’s well worth it to save. How? By hitting up the post-Christmas sales, of course. Target is my personal favorite for after Christmas sales & I usually buy once it gets to 75% off. Three years ago, I bought my first Christmas tree & all the decorations. I was out on my own & wanted to have a tree, of course, but I wasn’t going to pay through the nose for it. So, I waited out Christmas without my own tree & then loaded up. I spent about $250-300 total. What did I get? $1000-$1200 in ornaments, lights and a tree. You can imagine how much stuff I got. It’s ridiculous. My logic at the time was that if an ornament ever broke (they are a unique design), I’d never find a replacement. So, I bought out the leftovers of the entire line from two different Targets. Everything from tree skirts, area rugs, wall hangings, table runners, ornaments—all of it. In there, I got a 7.5” pre-lit tree that is quite nice and was normally $200. I paid $50 for it. Well worth every penny.
Last year, I decided that I may get sick of the ornament styles I bought & so I wanted to get an alternate style with which I could interchange the overall look. I spent about $125 (since I already had the tree and lights) and still loaded up plenty on a beautiful Swiss chalet-style set. That’s the look I went with this year. Since Artis & I combined households and we each had a tree, we put mine upstairs and positioned it such that you can see it from the entryway too. It looks great, if I do say so myself! I couldn’t be more pleased with how it turned out.
Anyway, I know we’re all very much a “want it now” society. But, if you can wait it out and buy post-Christmas—and not just intend to, but actually do so—it’s so worth it. I have $1600-$1800 of Christmas décor for one particular tree & my out-of-pocket cost in a three-year period totaled $400-450. Not too shabby, I say!
2) Tree decorating tip: Start big, end small. This may seem like one of those no-brainers I mentioned, but it surprises me by how many people clearly get it wrong—and you can tell this just by looking at a tree. When decorating, after putting on your lights and tinsel (or tinsel alternative—I’ll save that topic for another day), put your largest ornaments on first. Do not go astray and start putting little ones on too. Sort them out by size & get those large ones on there. Once you have all of those positioned, then you can fill in the empty spaces with the small ornaments. If you have small ones you want to make sure go on the tree, put those to the side and make sure you position those first, after placing the larger ones. If you have too many small ones you want on there, you can always go back and remove larger ornaments you feel like you can ultimately do without. It can be likened to a haircut—you can always take away, but you can never put back. In this case, you can never give the tree back some open space if you didn’t plan for it in the first place. It looks ridiculous & you can totally tell when someone first put on all the small ornaments & then later tried to cram on the big ones. Avoid this visual disaster.
And here, dear friends, is a picture (using my phone’s camera, so it’s not exactly brilliantly done) of the upstairs tree I did yesterday:
So, I was a busy little bee this weekend & got one of our Christmas trees put up and decorated. I know, I know…it’s not even Thanksgiving. But, here’s the deal—if I didn’t do it this weekend, it wouldn’t have happened. And I’m not about to skip putting up my Christmas tree. The next several weeks are jam-packed, so it was a necessity—and a fun necessity at that!
In putting up said tree, I was reminding myself of little tricks and tips here and there that I’ve either learned the hard way or acquired from various people over the years. (For those who don’t know me, Christmas is totally my holiday. Well, mine and Jesus’. I just lease the bulk of my share to Santa.) It was while thinking these things over that I realized it’d be good to write them down, which lead to the thought I should share them with others too, which lead to the thought that I’m a slacker at blogging & this would be the perfect thing to write about…as long as I can remember to do so. So, I shall share tips & tricks as they come to me. Some may come across as no-brainers, but hopefully something useful will be shared.
I should also warn you that, while I love to do things over-the-top, I am also quite frugal and always on the lookout for a good deal. Which leads me to one of the two tips I’m sharing today:
1) Buy your Christmas supplies a year in advance. I know it can be a pain to store things like wrapping paper & that it takes up space (under-bed sweater boxes work well for this purpose), but it’s well worth it to save. How? By hitting up the post-Christmas sales, of course. Target is my personal favorite for after Christmas sales & I usually buy once it gets to 75% off. Three years ago, I bought my first Christmas tree & all the decorations. I was out on my own & wanted to have a tree, of course, but I wasn’t going to pay through the nose for it. So, I waited out Christmas without my own tree & then loaded up. I spent about $250-300 total. What did I get? $1000-$1200 in ornaments, lights and a tree. You can imagine how much stuff I got. It’s ridiculous. My logic at the time was that if an ornament ever broke (they are a unique design), I’d never find a replacement. So, I bought out the leftovers of the entire line from two different Targets. Everything from tree skirts, area rugs, wall hangings, table runners, ornaments—all of it. In there, I got a 7.5” pre-lit tree that is quite nice and was normally $200. I paid $50 for it. Well worth every penny.
Last year, I decided that I may get sick of the ornament styles I bought & so I wanted to get an alternate style with which I could interchange the overall look. I spent about $125 (since I already had the tree and lights) and still loaded up plenty on a beautiful Swiss chalet-style set. That’s the look I went with this year. Since Artis & I combined households and we each had a tree, we put mine upstairs and positioned it such that you can see it from the entryway too. It looks great, if I do say so myself! I couldn’t be more pleased with how it turned out.
Anyway, I know we’re all very much a “want it now” society. But, if you can wait it out and buy post-Christmas—and not just intend to, but actually do so—it’s so worth it. I have $1600-$1800 of Christmas décor for one particular tree & my out-of-pocket cost in a three-year period totaled $400-450. Not too shabby, I say!
2) Tree decorating tip: Start big, end small. This may seem like one of those no-brainers I mentioned, but it surprises me by how many people clearly get it wrong—and you can tell this just by looking at a tree. When decorating, after putting on your lights and tinsel (or tinsel alternative—I’ll save that topic for another day), put your largest ornaments on first. Do not go astray and start putting little ones on too. Sort them out by size & get those large ones on there. Once you have all of those positioned, then you can fill in the empty spaces with the small ornaments. If you have small ones you want to make sure go on the tree, put those to the side and make sure you position those first, after placing the larger ones. If you have too many small ones you want on there, you can always go back and remove larger ornaments you feel like you can ultimately do without. It can be likened to a haircut—you can always take away, but you can never put back. In this case, you can never give the tree back some open space if you didn’t plan for it in the first place. It looks ridiculous & you can totally tell when someone first put on all the small ornaments & then later tried to cram on the big ones. Avoid this visual disaster.
And here, dear friends, is a picture (using my phone’s camera, so it’s not exactly brilliantly done) of the upstairs tree I did yesterday:
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Sickening.
(Warning: This is not a happy blog entry & deals with a very sad crime involving a child. I have so many emotions going through my head right now that I have to get them out somehow if I ever hope to be able to fall asleep tonight. Thus, this entry...)
Back in college, I volunteered as a Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA) to help ensure that the needs of abused children were being brought to the attention of the court as the various proceedings took place. The volume of training for this included some heart-wrenching information & statistics that to this day, I cannot fathom. All of those feelings of shock, profound sorrow for the abused innocent children and utter rage for those who would heap such abuses upon them all has come back to me each time I read an update on a local news story that involves ten-year-old Zahra Baker.
Zahra, who looks as sweet as can be, had bone cancer & as a result of this, she ended up with a prosthetic leg and hearing aids in both ears. Her biological mother lives in Australia & hasn't seen her since relinquishing custody when Zahra was a baby, due to post-natal depression. Her father & step-mother, meanwhile, live here in NC. The step-mother seems to be straight from Hell--to the point that multiple neighbors and family members have said in various articles that they told her to not beat Zahra, but she wouldn't listen to them. (At one point, the step-mother beat the poor child so hard that her own hand became injured.) Because the step-mom kept them moving around so much, Child Protective Services was not able to investigate...nor did anyone physically remove her from the situation.
In these moves, it apparently allowed for her step-mom (and possibly her dad) to kill her & no one would be missing her or notice she was gone. Her prosthetic leg had been found a week or two ago, her mattress was located in a landfill not too long ago and her remains were found today. Initially, they tried to stage it as a kidnapping--the step-mom wrote a ransom note trying to make it appear like someone had meant to go to her husband's boss's house, rather than theirs. (It was a ridiculous plot and only went downhill from there.) Instead, Zahra had apparently been long dead & no one can confirm having seen her for the last few months.
The abuse heaped upon this poor girl, who had already endured so much with just her health issues alone, is almost too much for my brain & heart to handle. What makes it all the worse is that this beautiful little human being went missing and no one besides her parents even noticed--for months! I understand logistically, given their frequent moves & no family close by, how this could be--but it still just doesn't make sense. Maybe it's not that it makes sense so much as it is that I wish that were not the case. I wish she had been noticed, not just when she went missing, but when she was alive & living under the same roof as a monster. I can only pray that she went quickly & did not suffer anymore than she already did in her far-too-few years.
I don't really know that I typically have strong feelings about the death penalty, but if I don't normally, I definitely do now. And even that does not feel like it's sufficient punishment for these two "parents". I know that Zahra's earthly troubles are over & that she is finally at peace--I just wish she'd known great happiness and peace in this life too. Meanwhile, I hope that justice is dealt swiftly & severely to those who were involved in this senseless murder. I just don't get it. I don't get how anyone can abuse another--let alone murder them--and particularly a child! It just makes me sick.
Anyway, I apologize for the depressing rant, but I needed to purge myself of some of these thoughts & feelings. Just reading the latest news article, announcing the discovery of her remains, has put me in such an upset state that I know I will have a hard time falling asleep & that my dreams will be horror-filled. Yet, I know that I'm fortunate, because for me it's just one night--for poor Zahra, it was every day and every night.
Bless her little heart; may she rest in peace!
Back in college, I volunteered as a Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA) to help ensure that the needs of abused children were being brought to the attention of the court as the various proceedings took place. The volume of training for this included some heart-wrenching information & statistics that to this day, I cannot fathom. All of those feelings of shock, profound sorrow for the abused innocent children and utter rage for those who would heap such abuses upon them all has come back to me each time I read an update on a local news story that involves ten-year-old Zahra Baker.
Zahra, who looks as sweet as can be, had bone cancer & as a result of this, she ended up with a prosthetic leg and hearing aids in both ears. Her biological mother lives in Australia & hasn't seen her since relinquishing custody when Zahra was a baby, due to post-natal depression. Her father & step-mother, meanwhile, live here in NC. The step-mother seems to be straight from Hell--to the point that multiple neighbors and family members have said in various articles that they told her to not beat Zahra, but she wouldn't listen to them. (At one point, the step-mother beat the poor child so hard that her own hand became injured.) Because the step-mom kept them moving around so much, Child Protective Services was not able to investigate...nor did anyone physically remove her from the situation.
In these moves, it apparently allowed for her step-mom (and possibly her dad) to kill her & no one would be missing her or notice she was gone. Her prosthetic leg had been found a week or two ago, her mattress was located in a landfill not too long ago and her remains were found today. Initially, they tried to stage it as a kidnapping--the step-mom wrote a ransom note trying to make it appear like someone had meant to go to her husband's boss's house, rather than theirs. (It was a ridiculous plot and only went downhill from there.) Instead, Zahra had apparently been long dead & no one can confirm having seen her for the last few months.
The abuse heaped upon this poor girl, who had already endured so much with just her health issues alone, is almost too much for my brain & heart to handle. What makes it all the worse is that this beautiful little human being went missing and no one besides her parents even noticed--for months! I understand logistically, given their frequent moves & no family close by, how this could be--but it still just doesn't make sense. Maybe it's not that it makes sense so much as it is that I wish that were not the case. I wish she had been noticed, not just when she went missing, but when she was alive & living under the same roof as a monster. I can only pray that she went quickly & did not suffer anymore than she already did in her far-too-few years.
I don't really know that I typically have strong feelings about the death penalty, but if I don't normally, I definitely do now. And even that does not feel like it's sufficient punishment for these two "parents". I know that Zahra's earthly troubles are over & that she is finally at peace--I just wish she'd known great happiness and peace in this life too. Meanwhile, I hope that justice is dealt swiftly & severely to those who were involved in this senseless murder. I just don't get it. I don't get how anyone can abuse another--let alone murder them--and particularly a child! It just makes me sick.
Anyway, I apologize for the depressing rant, but I needed to purge myself of some of these thoughts & feelings. Just reading the latest news article, announcing the discovery of her remains, has put me in such an upset state that I know I will have a hard time falling asleep & that my dreams will be horror-filled. Yet, I know that I'm fortunate, because for me it's just one night--for poor Zahra, it was every day and every night.
Bless her little heart; may she rest in peace!
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Easiest From-Scratch Peach Cobbler EVER
Greetings!
I know there's a peach cobbler recipe out there somewhere that involves a yellow cake mix, butter, and peaches, but I came across an even tastier & super easy recipe while trying to find the cake mix one. And, what's even better is that this one is made from scratch, so it sounds like you worked much harder than you actually did. That's always nice, of course.
So, I made the cobbler the other night and it was indeed really tasty--particularly the cake part of it. Yesterday, I went to the fridge to get some more of it (and was going to primarily make sure I got more cake than peaches) but then I opened the container to find that Artis had beat me to the punch & had eaten the bulk of the cake, leaving me peach slices. I was not amused. After lecturing him (and then later admitting I was going to do the same thing to him that he did to me), "we" (read: Artis) decided I needed to make another cobbler...but without the fruit. And I did. And it was amazing. And I discovered a cake that I'll now use for my strawberry shortcake recipe, in place of the butter biscuits I currently use.
You're going to laugh when you realize how easy this recipe is, so without further adieu here it is:
1 stick butter
1 C self-rising flour (important that it's self-rising)
1 C sugar
1 C milk
2 C sliced peaches, drained if using canned (though I'm thinking any fruit would be good in it)
Steps:
1) Heat oven to 375 degrees.
2) Melt the butter in a square baking dish. (I just put it on the stove and melted it directly in the baking dish so as to not dirty another pan)
3) Mix the milk, flour and sugar together until it's mostly incorporated. (it'll be a little lumpy)
4) Pour the batter over the top of the melted butter. Don't stir. (some of the butter will come up the sides and over the top of the batter; that's just fine)
5) Spoon the peaches on top of the batter.
6) Bake for 35-40 minutes or until the top is lightly browned; the edges may brown a little more than the top, but you don't want the middle to be doughy so make sure it really has started to brown on top.
That's it. No, I'm not kidding. The thing about using the self-rising flour is that as it bakes, the batter rises and the peaches sink down. So, it turns into a tasty buttery peach cobbler. And, if you skip the peach part of it, just bake it a few minutes less and you've got yourself one tremendously easy and tasty cake. As previously mentioned, I plan to use this as strawberry shortcake cake, with sugared strawberries and my should-be-famous cream cheese whipped cream all piled on top of it. Mmmmmm.
I'm off to find a towel to dry off my keyboard, now that I've salivated all over the poor thing...
I know there's a peach cobbler recipe out there somewhere that involves a yellow cake mix, butter, and peaches, but I came across an even tastier & super easy recipe while trying to find the cake mix one. And, what's even better is that this one is made from scratch, so it sounds like you worked much harder than you actually did. That's always nice, of course.
So, I made the cobbler the other night and it was indeed really tasty--particularly the cake part of it. Yesterday, I went to the fridge to get some more of it (and was going to primarily make sure I got more cake than peaches) but then I opened the container to find that Artis had beat me to the punch & had eaten the bulk of the cake, leaving me peach slices. I was not amused. After lecturing him (and then later admitting I was going to do the same thing to him that he did to me), "we" (read: Artis) decided I needed to make another cobbler...but without the fruit. And I did. And it was amazing. And I discovered a cake that I'll now use for my strawberry shortcake recipe, in place of the butter biscuits I currently use.
You're going to laugh when you realize how easy this recipe is, so without further adieu here it is:
1 stick butter
1 C self-rising flour (important that it's self-rising)
1 C sugar
1 C milk
2 C sliced peaches, drained if using canned (though I'm thinking any fruit would be good in it)
Steps:
1) Heat oven to 375 degrees.
2) Melt the butter in a square baking dish. (I just put it on the stove and melted it directly in the baking dish so as to not dirty another pan)
3) Mix the milk, flour and sugar together until it's mostly incorporated. (it'll be a little lumpy)
4) Pour the batter over the top of the melted butter. Don't stir. (some of the butter will come up the sides and over the top of the batter; that's just fine)
5) Spoon the peaches on top of the batter.
6) Bake for 35-40 minutes or until the top is lightly browned; the edges may brown a little more than the top, but you don't want the middle to be doughy so make sure it really has started to brown on top.
That's it. No, I'm not kidding. The thing about using the self-rising flour is that as it bakes, the batter rises and the peaches sink down. So, it turns into a tasty buttery peach cobbler. And, if you skip the peach part of it, just bake it a few minutes less and you've got yourself one tremendously easy and tasty cake. As previously mentioned, I plan to use this as strawberry shortcake cake, with sugared strawberries and my should-be-famous cream cheese whipped cream all piled on top of it. Mmmmmm.
I'm off to find a towel to dry off my keyboard, now that I've salivated all over the poor thing...
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Cupcakes. (a.k.a. Imposter Cakes)
As a typical rule, I am not a huge fan of cupcakes. I would rather have a cake. Why? Because there's more of it to eat. (Unless you are referring to a mini bundt cake. In those cases a cupcake may actually contain more substantive sweet content than said cake. On the flip side, "mini" and "cake" do not belong in the same sentence.) And, I don't like edge pieces, which is essentially what a cupcake is all the way around. I like soft and gooey center pieces. (While that reminds me of the current state of my mid-section, the soft and gooey center piece of a cake is MUCH more appealing.) At any rate, a cupcake connoisseur I am not. But that is not the case with Artis.
As sad as it is to admit, we have traveled 30 miles each way just to go to a cupcake shop for one single cupcake, simply because Artis had a craving. (Sadly, this has not been a singular event. However, the first time we did that it was also a great excuse to break in the Porsche convertible. Nothing like wind blowing through your hair and frosting flying into your face to make for a perfect summer evening...) In fact, Artis would eat cupcakes every meal of every day if he could. And not just any cupcake...vanilla cupcakes with vanilla frosting. I describe that as "boring". But, as one who is not a fan of chocolate, vanilla suits him best. By the way, don't even get me started on his non-love of chocolate. Let's just say that an otherwise-fantastic relationship has almost come to an abrupt end on more than one occasion because of his expressed disdain for the blessed food I so cherish...nay, worship...however, being the good Christian I am, I forgive him and allow him back into the fold/relationship each time. (But only after he bribes me with promises of Godiva.) Alas, I digress so as to get back to the subject at hand...imposter cakes.
About two months ago, Groupon had a special for a half-dozen cupcakes with free delivery from a local baker. (I say "baker" as opposed to "bakery", as I do believe the woman operates her baking operations from her own kitchen & I call that "kitchen" not "bakery".) It was a great opportunity to surprise Artis with a little gift. So, I ordered a couple of the gift certificates and used one to send him some cupcakes at work, retaining the other for use at a later time. (i.e., for me) My gift note read something like "Happy day, Honey Bunches! Love, me" I knew that Artis would know exactly who sent it, while still keeping his personal life private from his staff. (He's big on that whole separation of work and personal life thing. Therefore, one can imagine my horror upon discovering that the co-worker he most affectionately discusses at home did not, in fact, know he's gay & yet I had invited said individual and her husband to his surprise birthday party last year. There was an emergency conference call with his brothers over that one, which started with me saying, "Boys, what the hell have I done?! He'll kill me." Gratefully, it all worked out splendidly in the end and we now hang out with this other doctor & her glorious husband.) Again, I digress...
So, Artis got the incognito cupcake delivery & I immediately got a text thanking me for sending them, in which he also exclaimed that they were the best cupcakes he's ever had. Surely, I thought, he's just being kind so that I won't think he's ungrateful. However, once I got home I realized he wasn't being kind...he'd eaten all but two of the six cupcakes in a matter of a couple of hours. On my drive home I'd had a phone conversation with him, in which I'd requested he save me at least a bite of these bits of gold with frosting. (He swore that each cupcake had at least one pound of butter in it. I suggested that logistically it would make more sense to assume the cupcakes were made with crack, rather than a pound of butter, in order to make them so addictive and yet small in nature. He relentlessly stood by his bulk butter claim.) He told me I'd need more than a bite & even offered up an entire cupcake to me. As previously stated, I'm not a cupcake fan, so I didn't think I'd really want more than a bite. And then I took that bite... I apologized later for eating 1/6th of the gift I'd sent him, but I just couldn't help myself. They were actually THAT good! So, it stands to reason that when it came time to decide upon his birthday dessert (his birthday is this coming Saturday), I would go the vanilla cupcake route...despite it being against my nature & all that is good and holy.
I managed to convince myself that I could make a superior cupcake, so I set out to find the perfect recipe. Have you ever tried to seek out the perfect cupcake recipe? Everyone seems to claim theirs is "the one". This did not help my cause. Eventually I decided upon a vanilla bean cupcake and was going to make salted caramel buttercream frosting. While tasty sounding, I just prayed the recipe would turn out to be correct, as there would be no time for a trial run. In entertaining, one of the rules of thumb is that you never use your guests as guinea pigs--particularly if it's the main dish being served. But, I was ready to throw caution to the wind (heck, I did it with the orange mustard lil' smokies we served at our Christmas party, and to much success at that) and even went so far as to buy a pastry bag and tips so that I could do more than just glob the frosting on with a butter knife. (Note: I have never used a pastry bag. That is how dedicated I was to making this venture a success.)
Along the way, I got another brilliant idea to incorporate (that I can't divulge here yet; I don't know that Artis will read this, but in case he does I don't want to ruin my surprise) and that sealed the plans to do the cupcakes. And then a funny thing happened...I got busy. I mean busier than normal. MUCH busier than normal. So, I scrapped all plans to be Marty Stewart (a clever nickname assigned to me by a coworker) and reverted back to ordering from the baker that produced those delicious crack-infused cupcakes. (I was also quite relieved when Artis said he'd rather go out than stay in for his birthday dinner, thus saving me from cooking an outlandish meal for 12 people. He's so good to me.)
All was lining up nicely...and then I came across this blog tonight during a moment of non-motivation (similar to the one I'm having now)-- http://mingmakescupcakes.yolasite.com/
Do most of those recipes/pictures not look incredible?! And easy?! It has me questioning my plans all over again & I'm all sorts of ready to crank up the Kitchenaid and break out the cupcake tins right this very second. (Granted, despite his dedication to the cupcake--he's requested we go out to get some three times in the last three days alone--Artis would probably murder me for waking him up, as his love for rest actually does outweigh his love for cupcakes. But only slightly.)
So now I face a quandary. Despite my schedule these next few days not easing up, do I still attempt to be the wonderful boyfriend & make a unique cupcake for him as an expression of love...or do I stick by the easier and safer route, keeping my order for the drug-laced cupcakes I know he'll love? Part of me feels guilt for leaning towards the latter option...but then I'm reminded of the fact that the ingenious custom birthday gift I got him cost what some would pay for a car payment in a given month. And my guilt is slightly lessened by this reminder. Does that make me a shallow and horrible person? I hope not. Perhaps I need to go on a cupcake run/eating binge to assuage my guilt...
As sad as it is to admit, we have traveled 30 miles each way just to go to a cupcake shop for one single cupcake, simply because Artis had a craving. (Sadly, this has not been a singular event. However, the first time we did that it was also a great excuse to break in the Porsche convertible. Nothing like wind blowing through your hair and frosting flying into your face to make for a perfect summer evening...) In fact, Artis would eat cupcakes every meal of every day if he could. And not just any cupcake...vanilla cupcakes with vanilla frosting. I describe that as "boring". But, as one who is not a fan of chocolate, vanilla suits him best. By the way, don't even get me started on his non-love of chocolate. Let's just say that an otherwise-fantastic relationship has almost come to an abrupt end on more than one occasion because of his expressed disdain for the blessed food I so cherish...nay, worship...however, being the good Christian I am, I forgive him and allow him back into the fold/relationship each time. (But only after he bribes me with promises of Godiva.) Alas, I digress so as to get back to the subject at hand...imposter cakes.
About two months ago, Groupon had a special for a half-dozen cupcakes with free delivery from a local baker. (I say "baker" as opposed to "bakery", as I do believe the woman operates her baking operations from her own kitchen & I call that "kitchen" not "bakery".) It was a great opportunity to surprise Artis with a little gift. So, I ordered a couple of the gift certificates and used one to send him some cupcakes at work, retaining the other for use at a later time. (i.e., for me) My gift note read something like "Happy day, Honey Bunches! Love, me" I knew that Artis would know exactly who sent it, while still keeping his personal life private from his staff. (He's big on that whole separation of work and personal life thing. Therefore, one can imagine my horror upon discovering that the co-worker he most affectionately discusses at home did not, in fact, know he's gay & yet I had invited said individual and her husband to his surprise birthday party last year. There was an emergency conference call with his brothers over that one, which started with me saying, "Boys, what the hell have I done?! He'll kill me." Gratefully, it all worked out splendidly in the end and we now hang out with this other doctor & her glorious husband.) Again, I digress...
So, Artis got the incognito cupcake delivery & I immediately got a text thanking me for sending them, in which he also exclaimed that they were the best cupcakes he's ever had. Surely, I thought, he's just being kind so that I won't think he's ungrateful. However, once I got home I realized he wasn't being kind...he'd eaten all but two of the six cupcakes in a matter of a couple of hours. On my drive home I'd had a phone conversation with him, in which I'd requested he save me at least a bite of these bits of gold with frosting. (He swore that each cupcake had at least one pound of butter in it. I suggested that logistically it would make more sense to assume the cupcakes were made with crack, rather than a pound of butter, in order to make them so addictive and yet small in nature. He relentlessly stood by his bulk butter claim.) He told me I'd need more than a bite & even offered up an entire cupcake to me. As previously stated, I'm not a cupcake fan, so I didn't think I'd really want more than a bite. And then I took that bite... I apologized later for eating 1/6th of the gift I'd sent him, but I just couldn't help myself. They were actually THAT good! So, it stands to reason that when it came time to decide upon his birthday dessert (his birthday is this coming Saturday), I would go the vanilla cupcake route...despite it being against my nature & all that is good and holy.
I managed to convince myself that I could make a superior cupcake, so I set out to find the perfect recipe. Have you ever tried to seek out the perfect cupcake recipe? Everyone seems to claim theirs is "the one". This did not help my cause. Eventually I decided upon a vanilla bean cupcake and was going to make salted caramel buttercream frosting. While tasty sounding, I just prayed the recipe would turn out to be correct, as there would be no time for a trial run. In entertaining, one of the rules of thumb is that you never use your guests as guinea pigs--particularly if it's the main dish being served. But, I was ready to throw caution to the wind (heck, I did it with the orange mustard lil' smokies we served at our Christmas party, and to much success at that) and even went so far as to buy a pastry bag and tips so that I could do more than just glob the frosting on with a butter knife. (Note: I have never used a pastry bag. That is how dedicated I was to making this venture a success.)
Along the way, I got another brilliant idea to incorporate (that I can't divulge here yet; I don't know that Artis will read this, but in case he does I don't want to ruin my surprise) and that sealed the plans to do the cupcakes. And then a funny thing happened...I got busy. I mean busier than normal. MUCH busier than normal. So, I scrapped all plans to be Marty Stewart (a clever nickname assigned to me by a coworker) and reverted back to ordering from the baker that produced those delicious crack-infused cupcakes. (I was also quite relieved when Artis said he'd rather go out than stay in for his birthday dinner, thus saving me from cooking an outlandish meal for 12 people. He's so good to me.)
All was lining up nicely...and then I came across this blog tonight during a moment of non-motivation (similar to the one I'm having now)-- http://mingmakescupcakes.yolasite.com/
Do most of those recipes/pictures not look incredible?! And easy?! It has me questioning my plans all over again & I'm all sorts of ready to crank up the Kitchenaid and break out the cupcake tins right this very second. (Granted, despite his dedication to the cupcake--he's requested we go out to get some three times in the last three days alone--Artis would probably murder me for waking him up, as his love for rest actually does outweigh his love for cupcakes. But only slightly.)
So now I face a quandary. Despite my schedule these next few days not easing up, do I still attempt to be the wonderful boyfriend & make a unique cupcake for him as an expression of love...or do I stick by the easier and safer route, keeping my order for the drug-laced cupcakes I know he'll love? Part of me feels guilt for leaning towards the latter option...but then I'm reminded of the fact that the ingenious custom birthday gift I got him cost what some would pay for a car payment in a given month. And my guilt is slightly lessened by this reminder. Does that make me a shallow and horrible person? I hope not. Perhaps I need to go on a cupcake run/eating binge to assuage my guilt...
Monday, September 20, 2010
Need empathy & compassion? Don’t come to our house.
Well, don’t come to our house for that if I’m not home. I can be an empathetic & compassionate person. Artis, however, struggles a bit in this area, as evidenced by this morning’s melee. So, if one car is in the driveway and it’s not Klaus, just keep on goin’.
Bright and early, I was getting ready for work & brushing my teeth. I don’t recall exactly what I was thinking about at the time, but I’m positive that it was something angelic and harmonious. Charitable acts were surely involved. Meanwhile, a brute demon (aka Artis) lurked downstairs, watching television & thinking non-angelic and non-harmonious thoughts…probably wishing me harm. I was scrubbing away at my pearly whites when a contact lens wearer’s worst fear was realized...OK, maybe not WORST fear, but certainly not something one looks forward to…an eyelash went underneath my contact and was scratching away at my eye. I liken it to be much like a cat at a scratching post…it was ferocious. While I avoided screaming, I did have to immediately squeeze not one, but BOTH eyes shut because it hurt that badly!
Gentle reader, you’ll recall that I was in the process of brushing my teeth when this happened. In my haste to try to get this horrendous pain out of my eye, I pulled my toothbrush out of my mouth while the motor was still running & the toothbrush head was still spinning, because I needed both of my hands for this one. Not being able to see a thing, I was just sure I’d managed to fling white toothpaste specks all over the bathroom and the black polo shirt I was wearing.
I was able to squint my left (non-attacked) eye open enough to find my contact lens case, but then I realized my solution bottle was empty, so I ended up having to open a new bottle mostly by touch since I couldn’t keep my good eye open long enough to see if I was making progress with the beastly wrapper. I eventually got it open, got my contact into the case, and doused it with solution so it could sit while I assessed the situation. And it was not a pretty situation. Despite the eyelash floating in the solution-filled lens case, it still felt like it was in my eye. I eventually got the scratching to stop, but by then my eye was red & puffy. The base of my eyelid looked like it was filling with blood because it was so red.
Surely, I thought, an eye doctor will have nothing but supportive & kind words to say to make me feel better about what I’d just encountered. Even more than that, surely, I thought, the one I love will be ever-so sympathetic to my plight, and the feeling of cat nails being scratched across my naked eyeball will somehow be lessened by his kind words. The fact that both facets of an eye doctor & the one I love are embodied in the same personage just made it that much better. Or so I thought.
After cleaning off my dusty eyeglasses & getting them onto my face so I could see again, I made my way downstairs to tell Artis of the trauma he’d just missed upstairs. I told him that it was so painful that I momentarily thought that I may have to have my eye removed. And that there may have been blood. Rather than being met with any type of kind, sweet support, what did the beloved eye doctor say to me? He said, “Stop. I’ll hear none of this. Look—you must watch my favorite part of ‘Talladega Nights’! I recorded it for you to see.” What he didn’t realize is that it was a close call—I’d almost gotten to where I wouldn’t have been able to see this movie clip…or anything else ever again using my right eye.
And so, unsupported & rejected in sympathy, there I sat listening to the movie lines that held more importance than my vision…”Dear eight pound, six ounce little baby Jesus…”
Bright and early, I was getting ready for work & brushing my teeth. I don’t recall exactly what I was thinking about at the time, but I’m positive that it was something angelic and harmonious. Charitable acts were surely involved. Meanwhile, a brute demon (aka Artis) lurked downstairs, watching television & thinking non-angelic and non-harmonious thoughts…probably wishing me harm. I was scrubbing away at my pearly whites when a contact lens wearer’s worst fear was realized...OK, maybe not WORST fear, but certainly not something one looks forward to…an eyelash went underneath my contact and was scratching away at my eye. I liken it to be much like a cat at a scratching post…it was ferocious. While I avoided screaming, I did have to immediately squeeze not one, but BOTH eyes shut because it hurt that badly!
Gentle reader, you’ll recall that I was in the process of brushing my teeth when this happened. In my haste to try to get this horrendous pain out of my eye, I pulled my toothbrush out of my mouth while the motor was still running & the toothbrush head was still spinning, because I needed both of my hands for this one. Not being able to see a thing, I was just sure I’d managed to fling white toothpaste specks all over the bathroom and the black polo shirt I was wearing.
I was able to squint my left (non-attacked) eye open enough to find my contact lens case, but then I realized my solution bottle was empty, so I ended up having to open a new bottle mostly by touch since I couldn’t keep my good eye open long enough to see if I was making progress with the beastly wrapper. I eventually got it open, got my contact into the case, and doused it with solution so it could sit while I assessed the situation. And it was not a pretty situation. Despite the eyelash floating in the solution-filled lens case, it still felt like it was in my eye. I eventually got the scratching to stop, but by then my eye was red & puffy. The base of my eyelid looked like it was filling with blood because it was so red.
Surely, I thought, an eye doctor will have nothing but supportive & kind words to say to make me feel better about what I’d just encountered. Even more than that, surely, I thought, the one I love will be ever-so sympathetic to my plight, and the feeling of cat nails being scratched across my naked eyeball will somehow be lessened by his kind words. The fact that both facets of an eye doctor & the one I love are embodied in the same personage just made it that much better. Or so I thought.
After cleaning off my dusty eyeglasses & getting them onto my face so I could see again, I made my way downstairs to tell Artis of the trauma he’d just missed upstairs. I told him that it was so painful that I momentarily thought that I may have to have my eye removed. And that there may have been blood. Rather than being met with any type of kind, sweet support, what did the beloved eye doctor say to me? He said, “Stop. I’ll hear none of this. Look—you must watch my favorite part of ‘Talladega Nights’! I recorded it for you to see.” What he didn’t realize is that it was a close call—I’d almost gotten to where I wouldn’t have been able to see this movie clip…or anything else ever again using my right eye.
And so, unsupported & rejected in sympathy, there I sat listening to the movie lines that held more importance than my vision…”Dear eight pound, six ounce little baby Jesus…”
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Checking in.
Hello, neglected blog!
It has been a crazy several weeks filled with travel, madness, illness, the backwoods of Georgia (I'll have to tell you about that in a later post), furniture shopping, painting, re-painting, excessive work and plenty of cheesecake. Today isn't any calmer (I'm about to go to Lowes to buy moving boxes so I can get packing the last of my apartment in order to be prepared for the movers...whom I still need to schedule for next month) but I did want to check in and say "holla!". Yes, holla. Just go with it. I'm also adding on a little side button, but I'm not sure if the design of it will work with the background of the blog. I like it so much that I may have to change the blog background itself...even though I like that too. Ack! I'm so tired of liking different designs and trying to make them work as one. It has been the story of my life as we continue to combine households & belongings. Let's just say compromise has been the name of the game lately...
Anyway, hope you're doing well!
~me
It has been a crazy several weeks filled with travel, madness, illness, the backwoods of Georgia (I'll have to tell you about that in a later post), furniture shopping, painting, re-painting, excessive work and plenty of cheesecake. Today isn't any calmer (I'm about to go to Lowes to buy moving boxes so I can get packing the last of my apartment in order to be prepared for the movers...whom I still need to schedule for next month) but I did want to check in and say "holla!". Yes, holla. Just go with it. I'm also adding on a little side button, but I'm not sure if the design of it will work with the background of the blog. I like it so much that I may have to change the blog background itself...even though I like that too. Ack! I'm so tired of liking different designs and trying to make them work as one. It has been the story of my life as we continue to combine households & belongings. Let's just say compromise has been the name of the game lately...
Anyway, hope you're doing well!
~me
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Kade the Horror Movie Survivor
I was just reminded of something that happened Sunday night & while I wasn’t laughing at the time, I can now.
Artis’ brother, Mont, headed out for the night and said he wasn't going to be home until the next morning. Artis went to sleep & I was sitting in bed reading emails, but decided to leave Tobi out on her floor pillow for a while, with plans to put her in her crate when I was ready to go to sleep. Since Mont was gone & no one else was going to be in the house to rile up the girls, I left the bedroom doors open. And that was a mistake.
A little after midnight, both girls completely flipped out and started barking. I hadn’t heard a single thing to set them off. (When the garage door opens, for instance, you can hear it upstairs since it’s right underneath the master bathroom.) So, I told them to knock it off. That didn’t work and before I could even stand up, they were both out the bedroom doors and down the stairs! Tobi still isn't supposed to run or do stairs, so I went running after them. As I was heading down the stairs, I screamed, "Bitches, get your furry little asses back up here!" That didn’t deter them and they rounded the corner towards the family room and hallway that leads to the garage. I went running across the living room & dining room and right as I was about to round the corner, I saw the silhouette of a man coming in my direction. I let out a scream...and then realized the silhouette was of a man holding Tobi…and then realized that man was Mont, who had come home after all. He came in through the garage & I didn’t have the TV on or anything, so I don’t know how I missed hearing him, but the girls were sure on top of it.
Artis came downstairs a minute or so later & said that he had wanted me to go down first to face whatever scary thing was lurking there so he didn’t have to. He’s continually telling me that he doesn’t think I’d be good at defending myself if I needed to, so I thought that was rather interesting. So, I reminded him that I once took a Facebook quiz that determined that if I were in a horror movie, I’d be the one who survives. (He doubts its validity, but whatev. It came through Facebook; it must be true.) He said, “Right. Because running downstairs all by yourself in the dark & then standing there screaming when you see someone walking towards you is certainly behavior a horror movie survivor displays.” Whatever. I know I’d totally survive.
Anyway, Tobi got put in her crate for the night, I shut the bedroom doors so Matza couldn’t go running off again, and I went to sleep…with a baseball bat close by. Afterall, what horror movie survivor doesn’t have a baseball bat close to them?!
Artis’ brother, Mont, headed out for the night and said he wasn't going to be home until the next morning. Artis went to sleep & I was sitting in bed reading emails, but decided to leave Tobi out on her floor pillow for a while, with plans to put her in her crate when I was ready to go to sleep. Since Mont was gone & no one else was going to be in the house to rile up the girls, I left the bedroom doors open. And that was a mistake.
A little after midnight, both girls completely flipped out and started barking. I hadn’t heard a single thing to set them off. (When the garage door opens, for instance, you can hear it upstairs since it’s right underneath the master bathroom.) So, I told them to knock it off. That didn’t work and before I could even stand up, they were both out the bedroom doors and down the stairs! Tobi still isn't supposed to run or do stairs, so I went running after them. As I was heading down the stairs, I screamed, "Bitches, get your furry little asses back up here!" That didn’t deter them and they rounded the corner towards the family room and hallway that leads to the garage. I went running across the living room & dining room and right as I was about to round the corner, I saw the silhouette of a man coming in my direction. I let out a scream...and then realized the silhouette was of a man holding Tobi…and then realized that man was Mont, who had come home after all. He came in through the garage & I didn’t have the TV on or anything, so I don’t know how I missed hearing him, but the girls were sure on top of it.
Artis came downstairs a minute or so later & said that he had wanted me to go down first to face whatever scary thing was lurking there so he didn’t have to. He’s continually telling me that he doesn’t think I’d be good at defending myself if I needed to, so I thought that was rather interesting. So, I reminded him that I once took a Facebook quiz that determined that if I were in a horror movie, I’d be the one who survives. (He doubts its validity, but whatev. It came through Facebook; it must be true.) He said, “Right. Because running downstairs all by yourself in the dark & then standing there screaming when you see someone walking towards you is certainly behavior a horror movie survivor displays.” Whatever. I know I’d totally survive.
Anyway, Tobi got put in her crate for the night, I shut the bedroom doors so Matza couldn’t go running off again, and I went to sleep…with a baseball bat close by. Afterall, what horror movie survivor doesn’t have a baseball bat close to them?!
Monday, August 16, 2010
Really? I mean really??
Greetings & salutations!
So, this weekend held a pretty full social calendar & lots of errands/to-do tasks. (It was to the point it all blurred together & I had to ask Artis last night what day it was. He, of course, thought I'd lost my mind--and I had. I literally could not remember what day it was & if I needed to get up early this morning. Sadly, I did. I hate getting up early.) In the mix of birthday parties, weddings and trips to the mall & every store known to man (aside from Wal-Mart, of course, as I'm now on my way to hitting my two-year anniversary of boycotting the place), we had a wedding dinner to attend for my former roommate, Erik, and his lovely now-wife, Kate. It was an absolutely beautiful ceremony at Duke Chapel, with the sun coming through all of the huge stained-glass windows so perfectly. The ceremony itself was truly personalized to them & their mixed beliefs & it was done really well. Artis' favorite part was the reading from "The Velveteen Rabbit". My favorite part not related to the ceremony was the organist playing "Canon in D" & "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring". It was amazing to hear it coming from all of the huge pipes all over the place. Anyway, it was followed by a dinner back in Raleigh, at which we were assigned to lucky table #13.
The food was fantastic & plentiful (just how it should be), the decorations were beautiful (they did black & white as their colors; white hydrangeas on black tablecloths looked particularly cool), and overall the company was great...except for the guy immediately to my left. I was not a fan of him. I don't even recall his name, but that's not relevant because I can certainly recall his actions.
It all started with him thinking that every word out of his mouth needed to be heard--and there were plenty--by the whole room and that every one of those same words was beyond hilarious. His one cue should have been when his girlfriend (bless her heart for dating him & being seen in public with him) turned to him and said, "Honey, no one cares." But, gentle reader, that was not enough for him. He missed the cue and kept on going. While I could regale you with stories of his horribleness, there are two funnies upon which I choose to focus:
1) The water glass. Artis & I were there before Slob (that's what we shall call him) and his girlfriend, Pitied, so I'd had a chance to drink from my water glass. Keep in mind that I'm addicted to Burt's Bees lip balm, so most glasses I drink from end up with a lip print. The glass on Saturday night was no different. Not only did it have my lip print on the edge, but it was half-empty too. Did this stop friend Slob from mistakenly confiscating my glass? No. Did it stop friend Slob from drinking from it? No. Did I attempt to stop friend Slob from doing so? No. OK, so I didn't stop him because I didn't see him with my glass until after the fact. I went to reach for my glass & realized it wasn't where I left it. That's when I put it all together. So, I told Artis to use the now-spare glass of water to the right of what should be his glass & I'd use his so that we were back on track. He said he didn't know if the glass next to him had been used (it hadn't--it was filled to the brim & lip print free), so to stake claim over his glass, he drank a little from it. For some silly reason he thought that would stop me. It didn't. I said, "Oh, thanks for testing it for me." And with that, I took his glass for myself, drank from it, & he had to get the new one. (Don't feel too bad for him--there was an open bar & he'd taken advantage of it, so the water glass wasn't the only beverage in front of him.)
B) The butter incident. I find butter to be one of those tricky things when eating in public. When too solid, one tears the bread while trying to spread it (trick: if it's an individual pat in a foil wrap, put it between your hands for a little bit; your body heat will warm it up enough to where it's spreadable & the foil will keep it from getting on your hands. I find I have to do this most frequently at The Cheesecake Factory, where they pretty much serve frozen butter every time.) or the butter breaks apart and little bits go all over the table (or on your clothes). When melted completely, it's all-too-easy to flick it while dipping & thus get oil spots on your shirt and the tablecloth. So, I thoroughly enjoy a nice whipped butter that is easily spreadable and not too soft. That was what was served at the dinner. It was perfect.
I passed the bread basket to Slob & he grabbed his roll and got a knife full of butter. He spread the butter on the roll, but then still had some left on the knife. At this point, a normal person would put the knife on the edge of their plate, use the butter on something else on the plate (like the roasted vegetables, for instance), or even scrape the remaining butter onto the edge of the plate if need be. Not Slob. No, no. Slob did one better--he took that knife & showed the tablecloth who's boss. Yep--he smeared his knife back and forth on the black tablecloth, leaving streaks of butter roughly 8-10" long to the right of his plate. I kid you not. It was one of those moments when you question your own sanity & if you really did just see what you thought you saw. I elbowed Artis; he looked over & his jaw dropped. That's when I knew I wasn't seeing things.
Combined with the girl across the table from me who says she isn't used to going to "those types of fancy functions" and didn't know which fork to use (there were two forks...the salad fork and the dinner fork. Not too difficult.), but said that it was because she was too busy in her line of work, saving lives as a CNA. I'm sure she does a great job & all, but really? Can't learn what a salad fork is compared to a dinner fork because you're a CNA?? Wow.
Anyway, it was a rather interesting dining experience, but we did have a great time overall & really enjoyed visiting with the two girls next to us and the guy seated between Pitied and CNA. They were all quite nice people...and they weren't using the tablecloth as their personal plate.
So, this weekend held a pretty full social calendar & lots of errands/to-do tasks. (It was to the point it all blurred together & I had to ask Artis last night what day it was. He, of course, thought I'd lost my mind--and I had. I literally could not remember what day it was & if I needed to get up early this morning. Sadly, I did. I hate getting up early.) In the mix of birthday parties, weddings and trips to the mall & every store known to man (aside from Wal-Mart, of course, as I'm now on my way to hitting my two-year anniversary of boycotting the place), we had a wedding dinner to attend for my former roommate, Erik, and his lovely now-wife, Kate. It was an absolutely beautiful ceremony at Duke Chapel, with the sun coming through all of the huge stained-glass windows so perfectly. The ceremony itself was truly personalized to them & their mixed beliefs & it was done really well. Artis' favorite part was the reading from "The Velveteen Rabbit". My favorite part not related to the ceremony was the organist playing "Canon in D" & "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring". It was amazing to hear it coming from all of the huge pipes all over the place. Anyway, it was followed by a dinner back in Raleigh, at which we were assigned to lucky table #13.
The food was fantastic & plentiful (just how it should be), the decorations were beautiful (they did black & white as their colors; white hydrangeas on black tablecloths looked particularly cool), and overall the company was great...except for the guy immediately to my left. I was not a fan of him. I don't even recall his name, but that's not relevant because I can certainly recall his actions.
It all started with him thinking that every word out of his mouth needed to be heard--and there were plenty--by the whole room and that every one of those same words was beyond hilarious. His one cue should have been when his girlfriend (bless her heart for dating him & being seen in public with him) turned to him and said, "Honey, no one cares." But, gentle reader, that was not enough for him. He missed the cue and kept on going. While I could regale you with stories of his horribleness, there are two funnies upon which I choose to focus:
1) The water glass. Artis & I were there before Slob (that's what we shall call him) and his girlfriend, Pitied, so I'd had a chance to drink from my water glass. Keep in mind that I'm addicted to Burt's Bees lip balm, so most glasses I drink from end up with a lip print. The glass on Saturday night was no different. Not only did it have my lip print on the edge, but it was half-empty too. Did this stop friend Slob from mistakenly confiscating my glass? No. Did it stop friend Slob from drinking from it? No. Did I attempt to stop friend Slob from doing so? No. OK, so I didn't stop him because I didn't see him with my glass until after the fact. I went to reach for my glass & realized it wasn't where I left it. That's when I put it all together. So, I told Artis to use the now-spare glass of water to the right of what should be his glass & I'd use his so that we were back on track. He said he didn't know if the glass next to him had been used (it hadn't--it was filled to the brim & lip print free), so to stake claim over his glass, he drank a little from it. For some silly reason he thought that would stop me. It didn't. I said, "Oh, thanks for testing it for me." And with that, I took his glass for myself, drank from it, & he had to get the new one. (Don't feel too bad for him--there was an open bar & he'd taken advantage of it, so the water glass wasn't the only beverage in front of him.)
B) The butter incident. I find butter to be one of those tricky things when eating in public. When too solid, one tears the bread while trying to spread it (trick: if it's an individual pat in a foil wrap, put it between your hands for a little bit; your body heat will warm it up enough to where it's spreadable & the foil will keep it from getting on your hands. I find I have to do this most frequently at The Cheesecake Factory, where they pretty much serve frozen butter every time.) or the butter breaks apart and little bits go all over the table (or on your clothes). When melted completely, it's all-too-easy to flick it while dipping & thus get oil spots on your shirt and the tablecloth. So, I thoroughly enjoy a nice whipped butter that is easily spreadable and not too soft. That was what was served at the dinner. It was perfect.
I passed the bread basket to Slob & he grabbed his roll and got a knife full of butter. He spread the butter on the roll, but then still had some left on the knife. At this point, a normal person would put the knife on the edge of their plate, use the butter on something else on the plate (like the roasted vegetables, for instance), or even scrape the remaining butter onto the edge of the plate if need be. Not Slob. No, no. Slob did one better--he took that knife & showed the tablecloth who's boss. Yep--he smeared his knife back and forth on the black tablecloth, leaving streaks of butter roughly 8-10" long to the right of his plate. I kid you not. It was one of those moments when you question your own sanity & if you really did just see what you thought you saw. I elbowed Artis; he looked over & his jaw dropped. That's when I knew I wasn't seeing things.
Combined with the girl across the table from me who says she isn't used to going to "those types of fancy functions" and didn't know which fork to use (there were two forks...the salad fork and the dinner fork. Not too difficult.), but said that it was because she was too busy in her line of work, saving lives as a CNA. I'm sure she does a great job & all, but really? Can't learn what a salad fork is compared to a dinner fork because you're a CNA?? Wow.
Anyway, it was a rather interesting dining experience, but we did have a great time overall & really enjoyed visiting with the two girls next to us and the guy seated between Pitied and CNA. They were all quite nice people...and they weren't using the tablecloth as their personal plate.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
"It's a choice." So is me not punching your face.
Greetings!
So, I have a gripe today. It has to do with ignorant people. I want to punch them. Hard.
For the purposes of this discussion (albeit one-sided, unless someone posts a comment...), I shall post the definition of "ignorant"; my focus is on the second listed meaning.
ig•no•rant/ignərənt/Adjective
1. Lacking knowledge or awareness in general; uneducated or unsophisticated.
2. Lacking knowledge, information, or awareness about something in particular.
The "in particular" in this case is not about gay marriage, which is of course one of the most heavily debated topics right now--it is simply about being gay in general. In thinking over much of the hate-filled debate (being flung by both sides of the aisle) in the gay marriage issue, it occurred to me that there is so much misunderstanding and confusion in definitions of basic concepts, only causing the whole subject to get more volatile. So, we're taking it back to the basics & I'm sharing my thoughts--with random & long tangents to be interjected, I'm sure. (Side note: I have been asked by several people what I think about gay marriage, but that will have to be another discussion saved for another day.)
Being gay. Well, it's definitely not for the weak. I do know that much. I also know I didn't choose to be gay. We'll get back to that in a moment. First, back to "being gay". In my opinion, this is where the greatest, biggest, hugest, most monumental confusion exists & it annoys me beyond belief at how ignorant people are in understanding the basics with this & in combining two separate components to make "being gay" mean anyone that's living a gay lifestyle. Once this ill-placed assumption is made, the scriptures start a flying & the hateful words are flung under the name of Christianity.
What people seem to forget is that there's a difference between a person being gay and a person who is gay who chooses to act upon those feelings. A HUGE difference. One is a sin; the other is not. When someone is tempted to do an action, there is no sin. Sin does not occur until a person actually moves forward with their temptation and completes said action. What's interesting to me from growing up with the strong religious surroundings I had is that so few people actually get that component--and I feel I know this because of all the thousands of members of my church that I encountered over the years & of all of the counsel I heard, only ONE person ever bothered to point this out to me--and so people needlessly waste time hating themselves for being tempted because somehow they're falling short. Not only should they not hate themselves when they act upon their temptation, but they certainly shouldn't be so hard on themselves when they simply have a temptation enter their minds. But that's not generally how it works--and I imagine this is the case in most religions.
Considering that, as a whole, our nation is filled with people who have religious backgrounds to some degree, it shouldn't shock me that this root misunderstanding leads to a whole heap of hatred spewing directed at others who are different from one's self, but it does (shock me, that is). Why? Because we, as a human race, should be bright enough to have gotten past this by now! Instead, we listen to others, believe without question what's told to us or what traditions are handed down to us. (In the case of self hatred due to basic temptation entering one's mind, I think it's more of a societal norm passed on, rather than a verbalized thing--though there are plenty of verbalized ways in which this attitude is manifested in sermons or religious lessons.)
So, in general terms (not even dealing with homosexuality), we have the bulk of people confusing temptation and actions for being one and the same, resulting in a tempted person being viewed as a sinner--even if they never complete the tempted action! It'd be like a person thinking of stealing a candy bar & being labeled a thief just because the thought entered their mind. This overall attitude leads a person to view themselves that way (resulting in no leeway for personal mistakes) & often that person is surrounded by others who would view/label them the same if they knew of the person's temptations in the first place. Because of this, most people are afraid to open up to others because of the judgment (perceived or actual) they'll face. This is why most gay people have a hard time "coming out". This is why many gay people choose to commit suicide over coping with this.
In some cases, it mentally is just too hard for a person to see that they will be OK and that they can get through this. When appropriate support systems aren't in place--and sometimes even when they are, though it's generally the former over the latter--and a person not only feels alone in the world, but that they will be hated by those around them if they only knew the truth, they hate themselves and believe that God must hate them too. It is then not at all unfathomable to comprehend why some would choose death over life. This is so incredibly sad to me--life is such a beautiful gift & I absolutely HATE that anyone would ever feel that death is the only option. Do I understand why they may feel that way? Absolutely. More than I care to think about, truth be told. But, it still saddens me to no end.
Alas, I digress. But, I hope you can see how dangerous this line of thinking can be and why certain things (like someone coming out) can seem more difficult than staying "closeted" about their challenges.
Back to the fundamentals of "choosing" to be gay...
I did not choose to be gay. I did, however, make a conscious choice to act upon it. Was it a difficult choice to act upon it? Yes and no. Yes because of my religious beliefs & my own judgmental attitudes; no because I knew it was the only way that I would ever be able to release my self hatred and find any level of peace within myself.
Saying that someone chooses to be gay is the same as saying someone chooses to be straight. You can argue that point with me all you want, but I'm telling you that being gay was as much of a choice to me as you (assuming you're straight) had in who you'd be attracted to. Why would I, particularly considering the social & religious ramifications prevalent in my life, have purposely chosen this? And, not only that, but I knew this about myself from a VERY early age--so early, in fact, that I couldn't have fully understood what making a choice like this meant, let alone understood how to stick to this choice into adulthood. Instead, I spent my years praying and fasting and praying and fasting and praying and fasting, all in hopes that I would "pray away the gay". I even tried bargaining with God so that he'd take away the thoughts & feelings that came to me all too naturally; that clearly didn't work. So instead I was told to change my natural attractions.
If it helps to mentally wrap your brain around the concept of changing the feelings of who you're attracted to, I'll use this analogy--think about how you feel about the opposite sex (again, assuming you're straight). Think about how you feel when you pass someone on the street, see someone at the mall, etc., and how naturally you are drawn to check them out, find some to be attractive, etc. If you're married, think about how attracted you are to your spouse--and how attracted you were to the various people you dated before finding him/her. Now, imagine that a large population of people told you that you're wrong for being naturally attracted to those people & that instead, you need to be attracted to someone of the same sex. Not only that, but you need to be attracted to the exact same degree--to the point you can see yourself married to them & spending the rest of your lives together. You literally cannot, even for a nanosecond, follow your natural attractions and instead you have to switch your entire self to only find the same sex to be attractive. Seriously stop and think about that for a second. Remove all your doubts that this is how strongly gay people feel--accept it as fact, even if just long enough to think this all through. Can you then see how telling someone they're making a choice to be gay is such a ridiculous statement to make? Can you see that a gay person is no different than you in that they have natural attractions just as strongly as you do--but that they are just directed differently? If you can't, then repeat the exercise until you get it, or at least somewhat get it, before reading on.
Now for the second part of my two-part point: acting upon being gay. So, go back in your mind for a minute to the moment when you understood how much of a non-choice it is to be gay. What do you do at that point? Do you swear yourself to a lifetime of celibacy? You could. Do you decide you'll never kiss a soul you're attracted to or go on a date? You could. Do you decide that you're going to date, but that your dating life will only ever consist of single dates so that you'll never get attached to any one person? You could. My point is that THIS is where you have your choice. While, depending upon your religious & personal beliefs, the choices may not really be that attractive or desirable compared to what others get to choose from, they are indeed still choices that you have to make. And, as I hopefully got the point across of earlier, those are the choices for which you'll be judged come Judgment Day--not for your attraction to the same sex. Will I be held accountable for the choices I've made and will make in life? Absolutely. So will you. Do I wish I'd had better options in some areas of my life? You bet. You probably do too. But, I didn't, so in the choices that I do have, one that I've made is that I'm going to live the best life I can with what I have to work with. That's all any of us can do.
So, after all of this, perhaps you can now understand how insulting it is for a gay person to be told that they chose to be gay. No, my friends, we did not. I daresay 99.9% of gay people wouldn't have chosen it if it was, in fact, ever a choice. As the debates continue about what rights people should have based upon their sexuality, I'd hope that if you didn't before, you will now stop for just a second and realize that the fundamentals of many anti-gay arguments are formed upon ignorance--that is, lacking knowledge, information, or awareness about something in particular. And my hope is that, whatever you choose to believe, your beliefs will be more soundly based upon a greater knowledge of what it's like for someone on the other side of the fence.
I've said my peace. Amen. :)
So, I have a gripe today. It has to do with ignorant people. I want to punch them. Hard.
For the purposes of this discussion (albeit one-sided, unless someone posts a comment...), I shall post the definition of "ignorant"; my focus is on the second listed meaning.
ig•no•rant/ignərənt/Adjective
1. Lacking knowledge or awareness in general; uneducated or unsophisticated.
2. Lacking knowledge, information, or awareness about something in particular.
The "in particular" in this case is not about gay marriage, which is of course one of the most heavily debated topics right now--it is simply about being gay in general. In thinking over much of the hate-filled debate (being flung by both sides of the aisle) in the gay marriage issue, it occurred to me that there is so much misunderstanding and confusion in definitions of basic concepts, only causing the whole subject to get more volatile. So, we're taking it back to the basics & I'm sharing my thoughts--with random & long tangents to be interjected, I'm sure. (Side note: I have been asked by several people what I think about gay marriage, but that will have to be another discussion saved for another day.)
Being gay. Well, it's definitely not for the weak. I do know that much. I also know I didn't choose to be gay. We'll get back to that in a moment. First, back to "being gay". In my opinion, this is where the greatest, biggest, hugest, most monumental confusion exists & it annoys me beyond belief at how ignorant people are in understanding the basics with this & in combining two separate components to make "being gay" mean anyone that's living a gay lifestyle. Once this ill-placed assumption is made, the scriptures start a flying & the hateful words are flung under the name of Christianity.
What people seem to forget is that there's a difference between a person being gay and a person who is gay who chooses to act upon those feelings. A HUGE difference. One is a sin; the other is not. When someone is tempted to do an action, there is no sin. Sin does not occur until a person actually moves forward with their temptation and completes said action. What's interesting to me from growing up with the strong religious surroundings I had is that so few people actually get that component--and I feel I know this because of all the thousands of members of my church that I encountered over the years & of all of the counsel I heard, only ONE person ever bothered to point this out to me--and so people needlessly waste time hating themselves for being tempted because somehow they're falling short. Not only should they not hate themselves when they act upon their temptation, but they certainly shouldn't be so hard on themselves when they simply have a temptation enter their minds. But that's not generally how it works--and I imagine this is the case in most religions.
Considering that, as a whole, our nation is filled with people who have religious backgrounds to some degree, it shouldn't shock me that this root misunderstanding leads to a whole heap of hatred spewing directed at others who are different from one's self, but it does (shock me, that is). Why? Because we, as a human race, should be bright enough to have gotten past this by now! Instead, we listen to others, believe without question what's told to us or what traditions are handed down to us. (In the case of self hatred due to basic temptation entering one's mind, I think it's more of a societal norm passed on, rather than a verbalized thing--though there are plenty of verbalized ways in which this attitude is manifested in sermons or religious lessons.)
So, in general terms (not even dealing with homosexuality), we have the bulk of people confusing temptation and actions for being one and the same, resulting in a tempted person being viewed as a sinner--even if they never complete the tempted action! It'd be like a person thinking of stealing a candy bar & being labeled a thief just because the thought entered their mind. This overall attitude leads a person to view themselves that way (resulting in no leeway for personal mistakes) & often that person is surrounded by others who would view/label them the same if they knew of the person's temptations in the first place. Because of this, most people are afraid to open up to others because of the judgment (perceived or actual) they'll face. This is why most gay people have a hard time "coming out". This is why many gay people choose to commit suicide over coping with this.
In some cases, it mentally is just too hard for a person to see that they will be OK and that they can get through this. When appropriate support systems aren't in place--and sometimes even when they are, though it's generally the former over the latter--and a person not only feels alone in the world, but that they will be hated by those around them if they only knew the truth, they hate themselves and believe that God must hate them too. It is then not at all unfathomable to comprehend why some would choose death over life. This is so incredibly sad to me--life is such a beautiful gift & I absolutely HATE that anyone would ever feel that death is the only option. Do I understand why they may feel that way? Absolutely. More than I care to think about, truth be told. But, it still saddens me to no end.
Alas, I digress. But, I hope you can see how dangerous this line of thinking can be and why certain things (like someone coming out) can seem more difficult than staying "closeted" about their challenges.
Back to the fundamentals of "choosing" to be gay...
I did not choose to be gay. I did, however, make a conscious choice to act upon it. Was it a difficult choice to act upon it? Yes and no. Yes because of my religious beliefs & my own judgmental attitudes; no because I knew it was the only way that I would ever be able to release my self hatred and find any level of peace within myself.
Saying that someone chooses to be gay is the same as saying someone chooses to be straight. You can argue that point with me all you want, but I'm telling you that being gay was as much of a choice to me as you (assuming you're straight) had in who you'd be attracted to. Why would I, particularly considering the social & religious ramifications prevalent in my life, have purposely chosen this? And, not only that, but I knew this about myself from a VERY early age--so early, in fact, that I couldn't have fully understood what making a choice like this meant, let alone understood how to stick to this choice into adulthood. Instead, I spent my years praying and fasting and praying and fasting and praying and fasting, all in hopes that I would "pray away the gay". I even tried bargaining with God so that he'd take away the thoughts & feelings that came to me all too naturally; that clearly didn't work. So instead I was told to change my natural attractions.
If it helps to mentally wrap your brain around the concept of changing the feelings of who you're attracted to, I'll use this analogy--think about how you feel about the opposite sex (again, assuming you're straight). Think about how you feel when you pass someone on the street, see someone at the mall, etc., and how naturally you are drawn to check them out, find some to be attractive, etc. If you're married, think about how attracted you are to your spouse--and how attracted you were to the various people you dated before finding him/her. Now, imagine that a large population of people told you that you're wrong for being naturally attracted to those people & that instead, you need to be attracted to someone of the same sex. Not only that, but you need to be attracted to the exact same degree--to the point you can see yourself married to them & spending the rest of your lives together. You literally cannot, even for a nanosecond, follow your natural attractions and instead you have to switch your entire self to only find the same sex to be attractive. Seriously stop and think about that for a second. Remove all your doubts that this is how strongly gay people feel--accept it as fact, even if just long enough to think this all through. Can you then see how telling someone they're making a choice to be gay is such a ridiculous statement to make? Can you see that a gay person is no different than you in that they have natural attractions just as strongly as you do--but that they are just directed differently? If you can't, then repeat the exercise until you get it, or at least somewhat get it, before reading on.
Now for the second part of my two-part point: acting upon being gay. So, go back in your mind for a minute to the moment when you understood how much of a non-choice it is to be gay. What do you do at that point? Do you swear yourself to a lifetime of celibacy? You could. Do you decide you'll never kiss a soul you're attracted to or go on a date? You could. Do you decide that you're going to date, but that your dating life will only ever consist of single dates so that you'll never get attached to any one person? You could. My point is that THIS is where you have your choice. While, depending upon your religious & personal beliefs, the choices may not really be that attractive or desirable compared to what others get to choose from, they are indeed still choices that you have to make. And, as I hopefully got the point across of earlier, those are the choices for which you'll be judged come Judgment Day--not for your attraction to the same sex. Will I be held accountable for the choices I've made and will make in life? Absolutely. So will you. Do I wish I'd had better options in some areas of my life? You bet. You probably do too. But, I didn't, so in the choices that I do have, one that I've made is that I'm going to live the best life I can with what I have to work with. That's all any of us can do.
So, after all of this, perhaps you can now understand how insulting it is for a gay person to be told that they chose to be gay. No, my friends, we did not. I daresay 99.9% of gay people wouldn't have chosen it if it was, in fact, ever a choice. As the debates continue about what rights people should have based upon their sexuality, I'd hope that if you didn't before, you will now stop for just a second and realize that the fundamentals of many anti-gay arguments are formed upon ignorance--that is, lacking knowledge, information, or awareness about something in particular. And my hope is that, whatever you choose to believe, your beliefs will be more soundly based upon a greater knowledge of what it's like for someone on the other side of the fence.
I've said my peace. Amen. :)
Monday, August 9, 2010
Tobi the Escape Artist
Anyone who knows me knows full well that I love my dogs dearly...but I was about ready to murder Miss Tobi yesterday!
She still has around four weeks left of crate confinement before we can start letting her do a few stairs & get back into her regular routine. Once she is to the point she can do stairs, we still have 2-3 months before we can really let her get fully back to normal running around. However, she's antsy. And I can't blame her. I would be too if I got ran over and then was caged up, despite the fact I didn't do anything wrong in the first place. But, explaining that logic to Tobi clearly doesn't work. She just seems to think she's getting punished. And she's bored out of her mind. We give her toys during the time she is crated, but it's not quite as fun to play with them when no one is playing with you. We also make sure we keep her crated a minimal amount of time when we are home and able to have her lounge next to us.
She is pretty well trained to not leave the confines of her floor pillow & she's only on that if she's not right next to us on the couch. So, I don't feel overly sorry for her simply because I know how little her time in the crate really is compared to the time she spent crated pre-accident. But, I do still feel bad...especially when she does her pitiful whine. Yesterday, she was upstairs in her crate while we were getting groceries put away and cleaning; she carried on and on with "oooooooow oooooow eeeeeerrrrr" and then I'd say, "Tobi, stop." A few seconds later, we'd get another "ooooooooow ooooooooow eeeeeeerrrrr" echoing down the staircase. "Tobi, knock it off." Again, "ooooooooooow oooooow errrrrrr." "Tobi!" ...and then a defeated "err." I couldn't stop laughing; it was so stinkin' cute. She had to get the last "word" in.
Yesterday afternoon, however, I wasn't thinking she was so cute. We had a million and one (no exaggeration) errands to run. In-between some of them, we stopped by the house to drop a load of purchases off. The girls were just fine and still in their crates. We decided we'd better grab some lunch before tackling the rest of our to-do list, so we went up the road to a tavern we really like. After being there for about a half hour, Artis' phone rang and it was his brother, Mont, who had just gotten to the house. All I heard was Artis say, "She did what?! Is she OK?" My heart plummeted because I could just imagine it was one of the girls, but figured it was Tobi and that she'd somehow re-injured herself.
He hung up and said, "Tobi escaped from her crate and met Mont at the door downstairs." Now, I know that Tobi's crate door was latched & I know it wasn't that I just thought it was latched. If that particular crate isn't fully latched, it's noticeable. With a couple of her other crates, the mistake can be made. Artis asked me if I was positive I'd latched it & since I knew it had, we both started laughing at the fact she had managed to yet again get out of a crate. The last time she escaped crate confines, she had wedged her nose in the zipper closure and managed to get the door unzipped. She met us at the door of the garage as we were coming in, with a, "Hello! Welcome home!" excitement. We were home about a minute and then ran out for ten more minutes, putting her back in her crate before leaving & making it such that the zipper couldn't be opened the same way. So, when we returned and found her happily greeting us yet again, we were perplexed...until we saw that she had chewed through the vinyl mesh air vent on the crate. It was a collapsable travel crate, so I didn't expect it to be 100% perfect, but still...the thing died in a day. That's when we switched her to have a steel crate, hoping she didn't secretly have a file hidden with which she was going to whittle down the walls and escape again.
What really irked me about yesterday is that for her to be greeting Mont at the door meant that she went running down the stairs and across the hardwood floors. The few times we have let her walk in the house, she has to have extra support to make it across the hardwood floor without slipping. I just don't want her to re-injure herself or make it worse so that she won't make the anticipated full recovery. So, I had words with her about that. She'd better have listened.
Meanwhile, we had friends over last night & she got to be too much to handle, so I put her in her crate so she could still see everyone, but not be so crazy. We watched her as she put her paw through the crate door and batted at the latch to get it to slide open! That's when it was decided that we're going to have to padlock the door & that we'll leave the padlock unlatched, but situated such that she can't figure out how to get it off the door to where she can smack the latch open. If that fails (which it probably will after about a week), we'll then lock the padlock. Artis said that we may have to go with a combination one; I'm thinking that's fine, except that we can never say the code in front of her or she'll figure out a way to unlock it with the code.
What I don't get is that this 8-lb. monster has an incredibly sharp brain & can learn things incredibly quickly--yet she struggles when it comes to some of the basics like "shake" or "beg". Maybe if we make it seem like it's something we really don't want her to do, she'll actually start to do it. Does reverse psychology work on dogs? Hmmmm...
She still has around four weeks left of crate confinement before we can start letting her do a few stairs & get back into her regular routine. Once she is to the point she can do stairs, we still have 2-3 months before we can really let her get fully back to normal running around. However, she's antsy. And I can't blame her. I would be too if I got ran over and then was caged up, despite the fact I didn't do anything wrong in the first place. But, explaining that logic to Tobi clearly doesn't work. She just seems to think she's getting punished. And she's bored out of her mind. We give her toys during the time she is crated, but it's not quite as fun to play with them when no one is playing with you. We also make sure we keep her crated a minimal amount of time when we are home and able to have her lounge next to us.
She is pretty well trained to not leave the confines of her floor pillow & she's only on that if she's not right next to us on the couch. So, I don't feel overly sorry for her simply because I know how little her time in the crate really is compared to the time she spent crated pre-accident. But, I do still feel bad...especially when she does her pitiful whine. Yesterday, she was upstairs in her crate while we were getting groceries put away and cleaning; she carried on and on with "oooooooow oooooow eeeeeerrrrr" and then I'd say, "Tobi, stop." A few seconds later, we'd get another "ooooooooow ooooooooow eeeeeeerrrrr" echoing down the staircase. "Tobi, knock it off." Again, "ooooooooooow oooooow errrrrrr." "Tobi!" ...and then a defeated "err." I couldn't stop laughing; it was so stinkin' cute. She had to get the last "word" in.
Yesterday afternoon, however, I wasn't thinking she was so cute. We had a million and one (no exaggeration) errands to run. In-between some of them, we stopped by the house to drop a load of purchases off. The girls were just fine and still in their crates. We decided we'd better grab some lunch before tackling the rest of our to-do list, so we went up the road to a tavern we really like. After being there for about a half hour, Artis' phone rang and it was his brother, Mont, who had just gotten to the house. All I heard was Artis say, "She did what?! Is she OK?" My heart plummeted because I could just imagine it was one of the girls, but figured it was Tobi and that she'd somehow re-injured herself.
He hung up and said, "Tobi escaped from her crate and met Mont at the door downstairs." Now, I know that Tobi's crate door was latched & I know it wasn't that I just thought it was latched. If that particular crate isn't fully latched, it's noticeable. With a couple of her other crates, the mistake can be made. Artis asked me if I was positive I'd latched it & since I knew it had, we both started laughing at the fact she had managed to yet again get out of a crate. The last time she escaped crate confines, she had wedged her nose in the zipper closure and managed to get the door unzipped. She met us at the door of the garage as we were coming in, with a, "Hello! Welcome home!" excitement. We were home about a minute and then ran out for ten more minutes, putting her back in her crate before leaving & making it such that the zipper couldn't be opened the same way. So, when we returned and found her happily greeting us yet again, we were perplexed...until we saw that she had chewed through the vinyl mesh air vent on the crate. It was a collapsable travel crate, so I didn't expect it to be 100% perfect, but still...the thing died in a day. That's when we switched her to have a steel crate, hoping she didn't secretly have a file hidden with which she was going to whittle down the walls and escape again.
What really irked me about yesterday is that for her to be greeting Mont at the door meant that she went running down the stairs and across the hardwood floors. The few times we have let her walk in the house, she has to have extra support to make it across the hardwood floor without slipping. I just don't want her to re-injure herself or make it worse so that she won't make the anticipated full recovery. So, I had words with her about that. She'd better have listened.
Meanwhile, we had friends over last night & she got to be too much to handle, so I put her in her crate so she could still see everyone, but not be so crazy. We watched her as she put her paw through the crate door and batted at the latch to get it to slide open! That's when it was decided that we're going to have to padlock the door & that we'll leave the padlock unlatched, but situated such that she can't figure out how to get it off the door to where she can smack the latch open. If that fails (which it probably will after about a week), we'll then lock the padlock. Artis said that we may have to go with a combination one; I'm thinking that's fine, except that we can never say the code in front of her or she'll figure out a way to unlock it with the code.
What I don't get is that this 8-lb. monster has an incredibly sharp brain & can learn things incredibly quickly--yet she struggles when it comes to some of the basics like "shake" or "beg". Maybe if we make it seem like it's something we really don't want her to do, she'll actually start to do it. Does reverse psychology work on dogs? Hmmmm...
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Latest Adventure: Homemade Vanilla Extract
So, in case you didn't know it, I'm the attempted version of Martha Stewart. In short, I try to be domestic...and usually end up with pretty good results...but the struggle along the way is often a mighty one. The burden is great.
My latest attempt to be like Martha was when (months ago) I decided I needed to make my own homemade vanilla extract. Those reading this blog (aka Mom) aren't the intended recipients, so I'll also share that I'm giving this away as part of a goodie basket this year for Christmas. I happen to make pretty tasty biscotti (I drizzle it with chocolate--how can it NOT be good at that point?!), so my plan is to put together baskets for friends that includes a bunch of biscotti (a single batch makes around 60 pieces), a bottle of the homemade vanilla, and a recipe card for the biscotti. I, of course, will be using the homemade extract when making the recipe. I figure that this is a great gift for a few reasons: 1) it's homemade and from the heart, II) it's tasty, and C) it's cheap. I think it'll be around $10-15 total for the entire gift basket--and that includes the basket itself. The challenge I face each year when giving gifts (and one that I imagine most people can relate to) is that I want to give something great to everyone I know--but I can't afford to do all that I want to in the gift arena. This idea helps solve a few problems on that front & also allows me to more easily give couples gifts. (It's always hard to know if both people in a couple will like the same thing...and there are only so many movie night gift baskets one can give before it becomes tiresome.)
The interesting thing about homemade vanilla extract is that a single batch can easily last for years. How? By adding more vodka (or whatever alcohol one chooses to use) to the bottle as it runs low. The same vanilla beans, in fact, remain in the bottle. Sure, you can switch them out or add more in--especially if the vanilla starts to get weak--but the point is to use the same vanilla beans and allow the vodka to absorb from them and darken over time. The longer it sits, the stronger vanilla one has to work with. Rather than running to the store to spend a ridiculous amount of money for artificial vanilla extract that's full of sugar, one simply needs to put in a couple of ounces of vodka when the bottle's level starts to drop a bit. So, this is also the gift that keeps on giving. (Vodka can be surprisingly cheap, so it's really quite economical.)
I decided to make a picture tutorial of how to go about completing this VERY simple process. What you need is:
3 vanilla beans
1 cup vodka
1 bottle with a tight fitting lid
kitchen scissors
measuring cup
That's it. A few interesting notes about the top three items:
1) The vanilla beans can be purchased on ebay for really cheap--much cheaper than if you were to buy them at your local market. I paid $6.57 for 24 grade A Tahitian vanilla beans, and that included shipping. Things to look for: the vanilla bean should NOT be dry or brittle. You want it very pliable. I bought from a highly trusted seller that had a picture of their vanilla bean tied into a knot; this showed that it was indeed a pliable bean. You also only want to use Grade A beans; the country of origin doesn't matter so much, but I have read that Madagascar beans can leave an oily film on the surface. This is not the case with Tahitian, so I went with that.
2) The vodka does not have to be the top brand. In fact, I bought the cheapest. By the time the vanilla beans work their magic, the vodka quality doesn't matter. (Plus, blind taste tests have shown that most people can't tell the difference between the vodkas--and in the story I watched about it a while back, most of the testers actually picked the cheapest brand as their favorite for taste.) If you are concerned about the quality of the vodka, you can use a Brita filter & run the vodka through it a few times. This will lower the alcohol content some, but it will produce a higher quality. (Or at least that's what my research said; I've never actually drank vodka so I'm just going off of what I read from multiple sources on that one.) I paid $11.75 for 1.75 liters.
3) I bought my bottles at Home Goods. TJ Maxx, Ross, Marshall's, and any other discount home goods store probably has them too. You can use a mason jar & decorate it with ribbon, but my problem with that is that it doesn't make it very pourable. So, I found bottles that were both cool looking, had a tight fitting cork, and that had a pour spout. I paid $2.99 for each of them.
Now for the easy part--putting it all together. (Collecting the ingredients was MUCH more work for me than any of the actual assembly. I made my first-ever trip to the liquor store today, incidentally. Of the list of things to have, I only had the scissors and the measuring cup to begin with.)
First, assemble your ingredients. For most, that should be a no-brainer. Make sure your bottles have been washed & dryed too. This is everything together:
That is one dozen of the vanilla beans on the plate, but I'm only using nine of them since I'm starting with three bottles. I plan on making seven batches total, but I need to find more bottles first.
Begin by slicing each of the vanilla beans down the middle, leaving about an inch connected at the end. This is part of why it's so important to have pliable beans--it should feel almost like licorice. This is one split bean:
I left a little more than an inch connected on each one, but that's just fine. You could actually leave them unsplit & this would work, but just not as well or as quickly. This is all three beans split and ready to go in a jar:
Don't they look like dancing legs? Well, maybe that's just me...and I swear I didn't sample the vodka.
Next, put the beans down into each jar. It's also important to note here that a taller jar works best for this very reason.
Then, measure out one cup of vodka. (Be sure to use a liquid measuring cup with a pour spout.)
I realize you know what it looks like to pour a liquid into a measuring cup, but I thought it looked kind of cool so I took a picture anyway.
Once you have your cup measured, slowly pour it into the bottle that contains the vanilla beans. I would've taken a picture of that, but it's a little hard to do when both hands are holding onto bottles and measuring cups--plus, since I shake a lot anyway, the pictures were already tricky to do. So, just imagine me standing over the sink, pouring the vodka into the bottle. This is what the end result looked like:
The trained eye will catch the fact that the vodka doesn't cover the vanilla beans in this case. I think I had beans a little longer than normal, so I cheated a little and added more vodka to the bottle than what the recipe calls for. Will this throw off the whole thing? No. It will simply add a little bit of time for the liquid to turn the dark color we're going for. However, the difference in quantity was so minute (it was less than 1/4 cup of vodka divided among the three bottles in order to top all of them off) that it won't really matter. This is what they all looked like when topped off and corked:
Aren't they kind of cool looking? I can't wait to see them as they darken! It should take approximately two months before it's concentrated enough/dark enough to use in cooking. I wanted to make sure I allotted enough time to make sure that happens, so I've got about four months before I'll be giving these away. Once filled, they need to be stored in a cool, dry, dark area. Exposing these to light will reduce the effectiveness of the process. Also, do not put these in the freezer because that will also slow the process down significantly. Every week or two you'll want to shake the bottle. Otherwise, you just let them be.
A few side notes:
-Store any unused vanilla beans in an airtight bag or container. Alternatively, you can throw a vanilla bean in a container of sugar to create vanilla sugar. There are several tips & guidelines online for how to best do that, so you may want to read up on that. Vanilla sugar works great in baking.
-You don't need to adjust the quantity of vanilla used in any recipe if you're using this instead of store-bought extract. Use the exact same amount that the recipe calls for.
-This can last for years; if you notice that the vanilla is losing its color over time, simply add another split vanilla bean to it.
-You can use other types of alcohol in place of vodka. Each will create a unique flavor; vodka just happens to be the simplest to work with.
That's pretty much it--the first of my bottles are "brewing" in a cupboard & I'm looking forward to seeing it all happen. Hopefully this will make a great gift that will bring my friends a great quality baking product they can enjoy for years to come! As Martha would say, "It's a good thing." As I would say, "It's a great thing!"
My latest attempt to be like Martha was when (months ago) I decided I needed to make my own homemade vanilla extract. Those reading this blog (aka Mom) aren't the intended recipients, so I'll also share that I'm giving this away as part of a goodie basket this year for Christmas. I happen to make pretty tasty biscotti (I drizzle it with chocolate--how can it NOT be good at that point?!), so my plan is to put together baskets for friends that includes a bunch of biscotti (a single batch makes around 60 pieces), a bottle of the homemade vanilla, and a recipe card for the biscotti. I, of course, will be using the homemade extract when making the recipe. I figure that this is a great gift for a few reasons: 1) it's homemade and from the heart, II) it's tasty, and C) it's cheap. I think it'll be around $10-15 total for the entire gift basket--and that includes the basket itself. The challenge I face each year when giving gifts (and one that I imagine most people can relate to) is that I want to give something great to everyone I know--but I can't afford to do all that I want to in the gift arena. This idea helps solve a few problems on that front & also allows me to more easily give couples gifts. (It's always hard to know if both people in a couple will like the same thing...and there are only so many movie night gift baskets one can give before it becomes tiresome.)
The interesting thing about homemade vanilla extract is that a single batch can easily last for years. How? By adding more vodka (or whatever alcohol one chooses to use) to the bottle as it runs low. The same vanilla beans, in fact, remain in the bottle. Sure, you can switch them out or add more in--especially if the vanilla starts to get weak--but the point is to use the same vanilla beans and allow the vodka to absorb from them and darken over time. The longer it sits, the stronger vanilla one has to work with. Rather than running to the store to spend a ridiculous amount of money for artificial vanilla extract that's full of sugar, one simply needs to put in a couple of ounces of vodka when the bottle's level starts to drop a bit. So, this is also the gift that keeps on giving. (Vodka can be surprisingly cheap, so it's really quite economical.)
I decided to make a picture tutorial of how to go about completing this VERY simple process. What you need is:
3 vanilla beans
1 cup vodka
1 bottle with a tight fitting lid
kitchen scissors
measuring cup
That's it. A few interesting notes about the top three items:
1) The vanilla beans can be purchased on ebay for really cheap--much cheaper than if you were to buy them at your local market. I paid $6.57 for 24 grade A Tahitian vanilla beans, and that included shipping. Things to look for: the vanilla bean should NOT be dry or brittle. You want it very pliable. I bought from a highly trusted seller that had a picture of their vanilla bean tied into a knot; this showed that it was indeed a pliable bean. You also only want to use Grade A beans; the country of origin doesn't matter so much, but I have read that Madagascar beans can leave an oily film on the surface. This is not the case with Tahitian, so I went with that.
2) The vodka does not have to be the top brand. In fact, I bought the cheapest. By the time the vanilla beans work their magic, the vodka quality doesn't matter. (Plus, blind taste tests have shown that most people can't tell the difference between the vodkas--and in the story I watched about it a while back, most of the testers actually picked the cheapest brand as their favorite for taste.) If you are concerned about the quality of the vodka, you can use a Brita filter & run the vodka through it a few times. This will lower the alcohol content some, but it will produce a higher quality. (Or at least that's what my research said; I've never actually drank vodka so I'm just going off of what I read from multiple sources on that one.) I paid $11.75 for 1.75 liters.
3) I bought my bottles at Home Goods. TJ Maxx, Ross, Marshall's, and any other discount home goods store probably has them too. You can use a mason jar & decorate it with ribbon, but my problem with that is that it doesn't make it very pourable. So, I found bottles that were both cool looking, had a tight fitting cork, and that had a pour spout. I paid $2.99 for each of them.
Now for the easy part--putting it all together. (Collecting the ingredients was MUCH more work for me than any of the actual assembly. I made my first-ever trip to the liquor store today, incidentally. Of the list of things to have, I only had the scissors and the measuring cup to begin with.)
First, assemble your ingredients. For most, that should be a no-brainer. Make sure your bottles have been washed & dryed too. This is everything together:
That is one dozen of the vanilla beans on the plate, but I'm only using nine of them since I'm starting with three bottles. I plan on making seven batches total, but I need to find more bottles first.
Begin by slicing each of the vanilla beans down the middle, leaving about an inch connected at the end. This is part of why it's so important to have pliable beans--it should feel almost like licorice. This is one split bean:
I left a little more than an inch connected on each one, but that's just fine. You could actually leave them unsplit & this would work, but just not as well or as quickly. This is all three beans split and ready to go in a jar:
Don't they look like dancing legs? Well, maybe that's just me...and I swear I didn't sample the vodka.
Next, put the beans down into each jar. It's also important to note here that a taller jar works best for this very reason.
Then, measure out one cup of vodka. (Be sure to use a liquid measuring cup with a pour spout.)
I realize you know what it looks like to pour a liquid into a measuring cup, but I thought it looked kind of cool so I took a picture anyway.
Once you have your cup measured, slowly pour it into the bottle that contains the vanilla beans. I would've taken a picture of that, but it's a little hard to do when both hands are holding onto bottles and measuring cups--plus, since I shake a lot anyway, the pictures were already tricky to do. So, just imagine me standing over the sink, pouring the vodka into the bottle. This is what the end result looked like:
The trained eye will catch the fact that the vodka doesn't cover the vanilla beans in this case. I think I had beans a little longer than normal, so I cheated a little and added more vodka to the bottle than what the recipe calls for. Will this throw off the whole thing? No. It will simply add a little bit of time for the liquid to turn the dark color we're going for. However, the difference in quantity was so minute (it was less than 1/4 cup of vodka divided among the three bottles in order to top all of them off) that it won't really matter. This is what they all looked like when topped off and corked:
Aren't they kind of cool looking? I can't wait to see them as they darken! It should take approximately two months before it's concentrated enough/dark enough to use in cooking. I wanted to make sure I allotted enough time to make sure that happens, so I've got about four months before I'll be giving these away. Once filled, they need to be stored in a cool, dry, dark area. Exposing these to light will reduce the effectiveness of the process. Also, do not put these in the freezer because that will also slow the process down significantly. Every week or two you'll want to shake the bottle. Otherwise, you just let them be.
A few side notes:
-Store any unused vanilla beans in an airtight bag or container. Alternatively, you can throw a vanilla bean in a container of sugar to create vanilla sugar. There are several tips & guidelines online for how to best do that, so you may want to read up on that. Vanilla sugar works great in baking.
-You don't need to adjust the quantity of vanilla used in any recipe if you're using this instead of store-bought extract. Use the exact same amount that the recipe calls for.
-This can last for years; if you notice that the vanilla is losing its color over time, simply add another split vanilla bean to it.
-You can use other types of alcohol in place of vodka. Each will create a unique flavor; vodka just happens to be the simplest to work with.
That's pretty much it--the first of my bottles are "brewing" in a cupboard & I'm looking forward to seeing it all happen. Hopefully this will make a great gift that will bring my friends a great quality baking product they can enjoy for years to come! As Martha would say, "It's a good thing." As I would say, "It's a great thing!"
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Stubborn Tobi.
My little 'fro monster is clearly feeling better. She hates being cooped up, whimpers and cries when she's left in her crate long enough for me to make my own dinner (she either has to be crated, held, or right next to one of us on the couch as long as we can quickly grab her if she tries to jump), and now she has started refusing to take her medicine.
We had been putting a little bit of peanut butter on one of her tiny treats before hiding a pill in the middle of it so we'd have less of a battle when it came time for her to take her meds--three times/day. And then she decided to get picky with the peanut butter. No longer could I pre-make all of the treats for the day in an effort to save time. She had to have just the right consistency with the peanut butter & it couldn't be remotely stale. If it wasn't to her liking, she'd simply open her mouth and let the treat fall out onto the floor. And then she'd just look at me with a "You failed. Try again." attitude. It reminds me of Goldie Hawn in "Overboard", when her butler, Andrew, serves her caviar that is not up to par. Put some golden tresses on Tobi and you've pretty much got the same scene. So, we made sure she had fresh peanut butter & that was going well.
I'm not quite sure what happened, but pretty soon that extra effort wasn't even good enough for her. She got to where she won't let even the freshest peanut butter pass her lips. So, rather than adding a foreign food (like cheese--in which pills can easily be pushed) to her diet & dealing with any ramifications from that, I instead decided to just give her the pill on its own. It's actually not a full pill--it's 1/4 of a pill that is just larger than a Tic Tac to begin with. So, it's a very small bit she had to be fed. You'd think it would be a relatively easy task. Not with Tobi.
Yesterday morning I thought I'd make the whole experience of me essentially shoving my finger down her throat a lot more fun by singing to her about how she needs to swallow her pill without spitting it out. I then thought that doing so operatically may be that much-needed extra special touch that would make her think, much like Lindsay Lohan must, "Oh, taking pills is fun! I can do this!" But, instead, it was met with Artis shouting from upstairs, "Is Tobi whining and screaming again?? What happened to her??" (She initially screamed a lot when she first came home. You'd just look at her wrong and she'd scream. Thankfully, we got past that.) I said, "No, she's not screaming. I was singing to her operatically about how she needs to swallow her pills without spitting them out." I almost added "Jerk." to that, but because I'm Kind Kade I held back. (My response to him was met with, "Oh. Oops." Yes oops, Artis. My singing--even when operatic and with medicine as the subject--cannot be compared to that scream Tobi emits from the depth of her being. Nothing on this earth can compare to that scream. She puts infants to shame with her vocal abilities.)
It only took two or three stanzas/tries before I got her to take the pill. It was relative success...but briefly lived. Last night, it took five times when I first got home before she'd not hide it somewhere under her tongue and spit it out as soon as I let her open her mouth. What's worse is that she spits it into her bushy beard, so I have to work at getting a soggy, disintegrating tiny pill out of this mayhemic hair. It's not an easy task--especially because she gets wiggling about and there are only so many ways to hold on to her right now. Last night's bedtime pill time was the worst yet; this morning wasn't a walk in the park either. So, I'm just glad that Artis takes care of the afternoon dose today--and that we only have four more days of pills to deal with anyway.
Meanwhile, I get to continue prying her mouth open, while trying to avoid her crazy razor sharp fangs as I shove a little speck of a pill down her throat. It'd be so much easier if she'd just go back to loving Jif. Maybe she prefers chunky...
We had been putting a little bit of peanut butter on one of her tiny treats before hiding a pill in the middle of it so we'd have less of a battle when it came time for her to take her meds--three times/day. And then she decided to get picky with the peanut butter. No longer could I pre-make all of the treats for the day in an effort to save time. She had to have just the right consistency with the peanut butter & it couldn't be remotely stale. If it wasn't to her liking, she'd simply open her mouth and let the treat fall out onto the floor. And then she'd just look at me with a "You failed. Try again." attitude. It reminds me of Goldie Hawn in "Overboard", when her butler, Andrew, serves her caviar that is not up to par. Put some golden tresses on Tobi and you've pretty much got the same scene. So, we made sure she had fresh peanut butter & that was going well.
I'm not quite sure what happened, but pretty soon that extra effort wasn't even good enough for her. She got to where she won't let even the freshest peanut butter pass her lips. So, rather than adding a foreign food (like cheese--in which pills can easily be pushed) to her diet & dealing with any ramifications from that, I instead decided to just give her the pill on its own. It's actually not a full pill--it's 1/4 of a pill that is just larger than a Tic Tac to begin with. So, it's a very small bit she had to be fed. You'd think it would be a relatively easy task. Not with Tobi.
Yesterday morning I thought I'd make the whole experience of me essentially shoving my finger down her throat a lot more fun by singing to her about how she needs to swallow her pill without spitting it out. I then thought that doing so operatically may be that much-needed extra special touch that would make her think, much like Lindsay Lohan must, "Oh, taking pills is fun! I can do this!" But, instead, it was met with Artis shouting from upstairs, "Is Tobi whining and screaming again?? What happened to her??" (She initially screamed a lot when she first came home. You'd just look at her wrong and she'd scream. Thankfully, we got past that.) I said, "No, she's not screaming. I was singing to her operatically about how she needs to swallow her pills without spitting them out." I almost added "Jerk." to that, but because I'm Kind Kade I held back. (My response to him was met with, "Oh. Oops." Yes oops, Artis. My singing--even when operatic and with medicine as the subject--cannot be compared to that scream Tobi emits from the depth of her being. Nothing on this earth can compare to that scream. She puts infants to shame with her vocal abilities.)
It only took two or three stanzas/tries before I got her to take the pill. It was relative success...but briefly lived. Last night, it took five times when I first got home before she'd not hide it somewhere under her tongue and spit it out as soon as I let her open her mouth. What's worse is that she spits it into her bushy beard, so I have to work at getting a soggy, disintegrating tiny pill out of this mayhemic hair. It's not an easy task--especially because she gets wiggling about and there are only so many ways to hold on to her right now. Last night's bedtime pill time was the worst yet; this morning wasn't a walk in the park either. So, I'm just glad that Artis takes care of the afternoon dose today--and that we only have four more days of pills to deal with anyway.
Meanwhile, I get to continue prying her mouth open, while trying to avoid her crazy razor sharp fangs as I shove a little speck of a pill down her throat. It'd be so much easier if she'd just go back to loving Jif. Maybe she prefers chunky...
Monday, July 19, 2010
It's the Weekend Update Not With Tina Fey!
Here it is Monday already...is it just me or are the weekends flying by faster than previously felt?! I do not approve.
Meanwhile, it was a pretty laid back weekend, as weekends go for me. On Friday, Artis & I broke our own rule by making plans with friends. We went to dinner with the gang, rather than having our usual Friday night "QT with the Cutie" time. (QT=Quality Time) Because our lives get so insane, we found that it's easiest to schedule one consistent time that we can just hang out with each other. That time would be Friday nights. Sometimes we sit on the couch staring at each other, asking, "So, what should we do?" Other times we actually have plans to have dinner somewhere or to go to a movie, while still other times we simply dwell in the same space and watch the TV shows that we DVR'd during the week. (You can tell we live such exciting lives when we're camped out watching TV on a Friday night.)
Well, last week we were supposed to have dinners with two different couples but those had to be canceled due to conflicts. Therefore, we did get to spend a couple of evenings hanging out during the week, since I was not motivated to work and we had all this free time now with the two cancellations. So, when Artis said he wanted to go to dinner with a couple of our friends on Friday night, I was just fine with that. It turned out to be our whole gang (don't worry--we don't have an assigned color, so you're safe to wear whatever color you'd like to around us and we won't cut you) and we went for pizza at one of my favorite places, Moonlight. We always get their bruschetta, because it's the best thing on earth, and the Earth, Wind, & Fire pizza. (Grilled chicken, roma tomatoes, avocado.) But, we also usually get an extra loaf or two of the homemade bread they use to make the bruschetta. As was the case on Friday night. I had kind of a rough day on Friday, so I was in a cantankerous and anti-social mood, but I was happy to spend time with everyone and to get said bread.
On Saturday, I spent the morning doing errands (unfortunately, I couldn't get Tobi's pain meds since the pharmacy closed & didn't leave her Rx at the vet hospital front desk), then Artis sent a text saying he wanted to go to the matinee for "Inception". I got back to the house at 3 pm & he pulled up the showtimes, only to realize the matinee was at 3:15 pm. It's a good thing we live close to the theater. We made it in time to get most of the previews (Artis LOVES watching the previews; I hate them) and then we watched what I think is one of the most amazing shows to hit the big screen in decades! I should clarify here that I am not a sci-fi or fantasy fan normally. Harry Potter would be about my only exception to that & I was more in love with the books than the movies. In fact, I've never even seen all of the movies. So, for me to enjoy this movie so much was an anomaly. But, enjoy it I did! It was incredible. I love it when a movie makes you use your brain--well, sometimes I like those kinds of movies. Other times I just don't want to have to think, so brain numbing entertainment is in order at those junctures.
Anyway, we watched the movie & then went back home, where I worked and worked and worked. Oh and we went to dinner, where we learned (through eavesdropping on his convo with the table next to us) that our waiter is working towards an undergrad in eco-sciences, a degree with which he hopes to change how homes are constructed so as to lessen the anti-earth footprint construction leaves in an area. So, that was fun.
On Sunday, I woke up and made Artis & Mont my mom's French toast recipe and my grandma's Cinnamon Cream Syrup recipe to go with it. It is one of my most favorite breakfasts & not one I've shared with Artis before. Typically I don't share any breakfasts with Artis because during the week, I eat my Nutri-Grain bar & on the weekends, I usually sleep until at least 9 am and Artis gets up around 6 am. So, he's ready for lunch when I'm jumping in the shower to start my day.
I spent Sunday working (got lots done!) and then we went to dinner with a friend, prior to going to the Star Wars concert. Dinner was at a new place & I think I will happily frequent there. They were polite, relatively prompt, and the food was tasty, but what won my heart was two things: 1) They put hand sanitizer at each table! Genius! and B) They had four giant screens playing on the wall, with speakers and controls at each table so you could decide what you wanted to listen to and at what level. It was sooooo much better than loud blaring overhead to the point you can't talk to each other. (We had that very thing happen when one of Artis' optometry school buddies came into town and we took him to a pub downtown. We didn't realize it was karaoke night & it was literally so loud we couldn't scream to where the person next to us could hear us. It was awful.) Anyway, so ten brownie points to the restaurant.
Now, you know how I said that sci-fi and fantasy aren't really my thing? Yeah, so about that Star Wars concert. Not my choice or idea. Artis' company has a suite, so he got us tickets through that. I do enjoy orchestra music, so that was the draw for me. I did not, however, look forward to running into all sorts of creepy people in bizarre costumes. Gratefully, there were fewer than I thought there'd be, but that actually was a disappointment in a way. Because of our vantage point, I was hoping for copious quantities of photo opps. But that was not to be. Instead, we (two of Artis' friends joined us) had a fun time chatting, listening to the music, and an interesting time taking in the ambiance...which included an old man wearing a "My Lightsaber is Bigger than Yours" t-shirt in a size about two smaller than what he should've worn. I also did have fun running into an old coworker & his wife; it was great catching up with them.
After the concert, we zipped on out of there (I must say, the VIP parking and entrance were awesome--there's even a designated exit lane just for the VIP parking so we were on the main road in no time), and I went back home to work. Come bedtime, I was ready to murder Matza. Tobi and Artis went to bed at their usual early hour; Matza and I went to bed at 1 am. I got Matza into her new bed & she sat kind of funny. I whispered (so as not to disturb Artis) to her that she needed to lay down. She didn't budge. So, I shone my cell phone light on her only to realize the beast was peeing on her new bed!!! I about killed her. So, I got her and the bed out of the room as carefully and quietly as possible. I got Matz and the bed all cleaned up, grabbed one of her other beds from downstairs, and we attempted it all over again. She seems to have avoided urination on this one, so we were good to go. I don't know what gets into her sometimes.
Tobi, meanwhile, spent the weekend lounging and being clingy. We ran low on her pain meds and since the pharmacy had done all their mess, we had no choice but to space out her meds Saturday and Sunday. She seemed to be just fine though and is putting more and more pressure on her rear right leg. As long as I get her to hobble slowly outside, she'll take the time to use that leg a little more. Otherwise, she speeds along to do her business and get back in my arms so she can go back inside. We have one more week of pain meds and then we're through! Artis & I couldn't be happier about this. He usually goes home for lunch, but now he doesn't have a choice, since she has to have her afternoon dose. I, meanwhile, run around in the morning and evening to get each of the girls taken care of, fed separately, and in their appropriate spots (Tobi at Artis', Matza at mine), etc. It's exhausting. At least the meds being done and over with will remove one component of that saga. In crappy news, however, the hospital "forgot" to bill me before for one of the surgery fees, so I got an $1100 bill on Saturday to add to the other craziness this all has cost. Sigh.
And that is my weekend in review. I'm now off to look into this whole money tree growing thing, so as to be able to pay for Tobi's vet...
Meanwhile, it was a pretty laid back weekend, as weekends go for me. On Friday, Artis & I broke our own rule by making plans with friends. We went to dinner with the gang, rather than having our usual Friday night "QT with the Cutie" time. (QT=Quality Time) Because our lives get so insane, we found that it's easiest to schedule one consistent time that we can just hang out with each other. That time would be Friday nights. Sometimes we sit on the couch staring at each other, asking, "So, what should we do?" Other times we actually have plans to have dinner somewhere or to go to a movie, while still other times we simply dwell in the same space and watch the TV shows that we DVR'd during the week. (You can tell we live such exciting lives when we're camped out watching TV on a Friday night.)
Well, last week we were supposed to have dinners with two different couples but those had to be canceled due to conflicts. Therefore, we did get to spend a couple of evenings hanging out during the week, since I was not motivated to work and we had all this free time now with the two cancellations. So, when Artis said he wanted to go to dinner with a couple of our friends on Friday night, I was just fine with that. It turned out to be our whole gang (don't worry--we don't have an assigned color, so you're safe to wear whatever color you'd like to around us and we won't cut you) and we went for pizza at one of my favorite places, Moonlight. We always get their bruschetta, because it's the best thing on earth, and the Earth, Wind, & Fire pizza. (Grilled chicken, roma tomatoes, avocado.) But, we also usually get an extra loaf or two of the homemade bread they use to make the bruschetta. As was the case on Friday night. I had kind of a rough day on Friday, so I was in a cantankerous and anti-social mood, but I was happy to spend time with everyone and to get said bread.
On Saturday, I spent the morning doing errands (unfortunately, I couldn't get Tobi's pain meds since the pharmacy closed & didn't leave her Rx at the vet hospital front desk), then Artis sent a text saying he wanted to go to the matinee for "Inception". I got back to the house at 3 pm & he pulled up the showtimes, only to realize the matinee was at 3:15 pm. It's a good thing we live close to the theater. We made it in time to get most of the previews (Artis LOVES watching the previews; I hate them) and then we watched what I think is one of the most amazing shows to hit the big screen in decades! I should clarify here that I am not a sci-fi or fantasy fan normally. Harry Potter would be about my only exception to that & I was more in love with the books than the movies. In fact, I've never even seen all of the movies. So, for me to enjoy this movie so much was an anomaly. But, enjoy it I did! It was incredible. I love it when a movie makes you use your brain--well, sometimes I like those kinds of movies. Other times I just don't want to have to think, so brain numbing entertainment is in order at those junctures.
Anyway, we watched the movie & then went back home, where I worked and worked and worked. Oh and we went to dinner, where we learned (through eavesdropping on his convo with the table next to us) that our waiter is working towards an undergrad in eco-sciences, a degree with which he hopes to change how homes are constructed so as to lessen the anti-earth footprint construction leaves in an area. So, that was fun.
On Sunday, I woke up and made Artis & Mont my mom's French toast recipe and my grandma's Cinnamon Cream Syrup recipe to go with it. It is one of my most favorite breakfasts & not one I've shared with Artis before. Typically I don't share any breakfasts with Artis because during the week, I eat my Nutri-Grain bar & on the weekends, I usually sleep until at least 9 am and Artis gets up around 6 am. So, he's ready for lunch when I'm jumping in the shower to start my day.
I spent Sunday working (got lots done!) and then we went to dinner with a friend, prior to going to the Star Wars concert. Dinner was at a new place & I think I will happily frequent there. They were polite, relatively prompt, and the food was tasty, but what won my heart was two things: 1) They put hand sanitizer at each table! Genius! and B) They had four giant screens playing on the wall, with speakers and controls at each table so you could decide what you wanted to listen to and at what level. It was sooooo much better than loud blaring overhead to the point you can't talk to each other. (We had that very thing happen when one of Artis' optometry school buddies came into town and we took him to a pub downtown. We didn't realize it was karaoke night & it was literally so loud we couldn't scream to where the person next to us could hear us. It was awful.) Anyway, so ten brownie points to the restaurant.
Now, you know how I said that sci-fi and fantasy aren't really my thing? Yeah, so about that Star Wars concert. Not my choice or idea. Artis' company has a suite, so he got us tickets through that. I do enjoy orchestra music, so that was the draw for me. I did not, however, look forward to running into all sorts of creepy people in bizarre costumes. Gratefully, there were fewer than I thought there'd be, but that actually was a disappointment in a way. Because of our vantage point, I was hoping for copious quantities of photo opps. But that was not to be. Instead, we (two of Artis' friends joined us) had a fun time chatting, listening to the music, and an interesting time taking in the ambiance...which included an old man wearing a "My Lightsaber is Bigger than Yours" t-shirt in a size about two smaller than what he should've worn. I also did have fun running into an old coworker & his wife; it was great catching up with them.
After the concert, we zipped on out of there (I must say, the VIP parking and entrance were awesome--there's even a designated exit lane just for the VIP parking so we were on the main road in no time), and I went back home to work. Come bedtime, I was ready to murder Matza. Tobi and Artis went to bed at their usual early hour; Matza and I went to bed at 1 am. I got Matza into her new bed & she sat kind of funny. I whispered (so as not to disturb Artis) to her that she needed to lay down. She didn't budge. So, I shone my cell phone light on her only to realize the beast was peeing on her new bed!!! I about killed her. So, I got her and the bed out of the room as carefully and quietly as possible. I got Matz and the bed all cleaned up, grabbed one of her other beds from downstairs, and we attempted it all over again. She seems to have avoided urination on this one, so we were good to go. I don't know what gets into her sometimes.
Tobi, meanwhile, spent the weekend lounging and being clingy. We ran low on her pain meds and since the pharmacy had done all their mess, we had no choice but to space out her meds Saturday and Sunday. She seemed to be just fine though and is putting more and more pressure on her rear right leg. As long as I get her to hobble slowly outside, she'll take the time to use that leg a little more. Otherwise, she speeds along to do her business and get back in my arms so she can go back inside. We have one more week of pain meds and then we're through! Artis & I couldn't be happier about this. He usually goes home for lunch, but now he doesn't have a choice, since she has to have her afternoon dose. I, meanwhile, run around in the morning and evening to get each of the girls taken care of, fed separately, and in their appropriate spots (Tobi at Artis', Matza at mine), etc. It's exhausting. At least the meds being done and over with will remove one component of that saga. In crappy news, however, the hospital "forgot" to bill me before for one of the surgery fees, so I got an $1100 bill on Saturday to add to the other craziness this all has cost. Sigh.
And that is my weekend in review. I'm now off to look into this whole money tree growing thing, so as to be able to pay for Tobi's vet...
Monday, July 12, 2010
A night straight from the circus book.
Well, it was an uneventful eventful weekend, if that makes sense. Maybe saying "uneventful busy" makes more sense. Either way, nothing overly crazy happened, but we sure stayed busy. Last night, however, did get a little crazy for a bit.
Tobi is doing a lot better (doubling her pain meds did her a world of good) and isn't doing her handstand walk nearly as much. In fact, this morning she even used her right rear paw to get some balance! It was a nice moment because she hasn't done that since leaving the hospital. She did that more and more before leaving the hospital, but once she was off the IV meds and the oral ones weren't as effective, she immediately regressed and refused to put her paw down at all. We spent lots of time holding her and letting her sit on the couch next to us throughout the weekend so she'd not feel like her life was nothing but staying behind bars and being fed medicine.
In the past, Tobi hasn't been so bright and has failed to realize she could escape during the times when I accidentally leave her crate unlocked. So, last night I didn't think anything of leaving it unlocked while I took Matza out first to do her business--especially since Tobi's not a big fan of movement right now anyway. I adjusted Tobi's bandages, left the crate unlocked, and then went out of the room for just a minute to grab Matza's leash. When I returned, Matza was gone. I was trying to be quiet because Artis had already gone to bed (this was about 11 pm) but I loudly whispered up the stairs for her to get back downstairs. She LOVES bedtime and had already headed up to bed when I wasn't looking. She sauntered on down, I took her outside, and she wouldn't pee. At all. None. Zilch. The dog pees more than anything I've ever seen, so this told me she'd probably gone somewhere in the house since I last took her outside. After walking all over creation in the heat and humidity (it was sooooo nasty out--I was sweating like you wouldn't believe), I finally gave up and took her back inside, whereupon I discovered Tobi's crate door wide open with no Tobi inside the crate.
I looked all over the first floor and couldn't find her, which made me just sick to my stomach because I knew she'd have gone upstairs to find Artis. She is not allowed to walk at all, other than to go outside to the bathroom, so climbing stairs was completely out of the question. But, that's exactly what the little monster did! I turned on the light to the stairwell and saw the furball laying on the second-to-the-top stair. I guess she got tuckered out and laid down for a nap. Anyway, I walked up to get her and told her, "Tobi, no, no. This is not what we do." And that's when I found what else was missing--Matza's pee puddle. It was on the stair right above where Tobi had stopped.
I was so exasperated. Walking all over with Matza in that blasted humidity was bad, but so was running all over trying to find Tobi. I trudged down the stairs with her and got her outside, she did her thing, and I went in to start cleaning the carpet. Unfortunately, all of the commotion had woken Artis, so he was already up cleaning it. I felt so bad. And so mad. And so sweaty.
Eventually, we got the girls in their beds, Tobi drugged up for the night, Matza lectured, me de-sweated, and we were able to pass out pretty solidly since Tobi didn't cry during the night. Hooray! Hopefully tonight will be much less sucky and I'll be able to just take them out to do their business without all this mayhem!!
Tobi is doing a lot better (doubling her pain meds did her a world of good) and isn't doing her handstand walk nearly as much. In fact, this morning she even used her right rear paw to get some balance! It was a nice moment because she hasn't done that since leaving the hospital. She did that more and more before leaving the hospital, but once she was off the IV meds and the oral ones weren't as effective, she immediately regressed and refused to put her paw down at all. We spent lots of time holding her and letting her sit on the couch next to us throughout the weekend so she'd not feel like her life was nothing but staying behind bars and being fed medicine.
In the past, Tobi hasn't been so bright and has failed to realize she could escape during the times when I accidentally leave her crate unlocked. So, last night I didn't think anything of leaving it unlocked while I took Matza out first to do her business--especially since Tobi's not a big fan of movement right now anyway. I adjusted Tobi's bandages, left the crate unlocked, and then went out of the room for just a minute to grab Matza's leash. When I returned, Matza was gone. I was trying to be quiet because Artis had already gone to bed (this was about 11 pm) but I loudly whispered up the stairs for her to get back downstairs. She LOVES bedtime and had already headed up to bed when I wasn't looking. She sauntered on down, I took her outside, and she wouldn't pee. At all. None. Zilch. The dog pees more than anything I've ever seen, so this told me she'd probably gone somewhere in the house since I last took her outside. After walking all over creation in the heat and humidity (it was sooooo nasty out--I was sweating like you wouldn't believe), I finally gave up and took her back inside, whereupon I discovered Tobi's crate door wide open with no Tobi inside the crate.
I looked all over the first floor and couldn't find her, which made me just sick to my stomach because I knew she'd have gone upstairs to find Artis. She is not allowed to walk at all, other than to go outside to the bathroom, so climbing stairs was completely out of the question. But, that's exactly what the little monster did! I turned on the light to the stairwell and saw the furball laying on the second-to-the-top stair. I guess she got tuckered out and laid down for a nap. Anyway, I walked up to get her and told her, "Tobi, no, no. This is not what we do." And that's when I found what else was missing--Matza's pee puddle. It was on the stair right above where Tobi had stopped.
I was so exasperated. Walking all over with Matza in that blasted humidity was bad, but so was running all over trying to find Tobi. I trudged down the stairs with her and got her outside, she did her thing, and I went in to start cleaning the carpet. Unfortunately, all of the commotion had woken Artis, so he was already up cleaning it. I felt so bad. And so mad. And so sweaty.
Eventually, we got the girls in their beds, Tobi drugged up for the night, Matza lectured, me de-sweated, and we were able to pass out pretty solidly since Tobi didn't cry during the night. Hooray! Hopefully tonight will be much less sucky and I'll be able to just take them out to do their business without all this mayhem!!
Saturday, July 10, 2010
When life gives you broken limbs...
...walk on your hands. Well, that seems to be Tobi's motto as of late. It's quite freaky looking, but the little beast will get up on her front paws and walk herself all over the yard--and even go to the bathroom--without setting her hind paws back down on the ground. Artis caught a little bit of it on film last night; once I told her it just wasn't right, she want back to all four paws. But only for a second...then we were back to being in the circus.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Lord give me strength.
I come to you as a very tired man. A very, very tired man who feels like he has been awake for 48-hours straight. Delirium may set in soon...perhaps it already has.
As joyous as it is to have Tobi Knish at home, the emotional, mental, and physical toll it is already taking is seemingly overwhelming the joy. Case in point: Last night.
After a very arduous day that included a 2 1/2 meeting during which my mental capabilities were thoroughly tested, I left the office and headed to package some orders for shipment today. Then, I went home and walked Matza, processed a few customer payments & answered emails and then headed over to Artis' to care for Tobi at about 7 pm. Fortunately, he had beat me home so I didn't have to walk her. Instead, he was sitting in bed playing on his laptop and watching TV while Tobi stayed in her crate close by. (He didn't want her to have to sit by herself while he chilled downstairs.) So, I did what any sane person in a fragile state would--I collapsed on the bed. And then I got up and held Tobi for a while. And then I mixed peanut butter into Tobi's food in hopes it would make her want to eat. It seemed to work.
I then attempted to work; I put forth valiant effort, in fact. But, it was not to be. Instead, I let Artis persuade me (and I put up ever so strong of a fight, of course) to watch a movie. We started "Shawshank Redemption", which I'm pretty sure I've seen before but I can't remember. We got about an hour into it and it was time for Tobi's pain meds and a trip outside. So, I took her outside and was so happy she finally did all of her business! (It's the little things...)
I got her back inside and got her settled, listening to her screams before her front pain-free paws had even touched the carpet. Dinner for me was not to be. Eventually, I decided that the girls and I would watch TV together. I fell asleep on the couch, waking up to Tobi's screams because I had moved and her right rear paw had touched the back of the couch. (It's the leg that's the most sensitive right now.) So, I took her up and got her into bed...screams and all...and went back out myself. A couple of hours later I was wide awake listening to her whimper. Then, I was awakened again by her repeated cries. I thought it was 6:30 a.m. It was 3:20. This continued on throughout the night, with Artis giving her the next dose of pain meds at 6:15. She screamed (and tried to bite me again) when I took her outside, screamed when I brought her back inside, and at 8 am I thanked the Lord it was time for me to leave the house to go back to my apartment to get ready to go to work.
Just a few hours of good, quality sleep would be nice at this point. I don't see that happening in the near future. Meanwhile, I have a call in to the surgical tech so I can further discuss her pain meds and the fact she's no longer attempting to put any weight on that rear right paw. She had started to make progress and now doesn't seem to be. I'm concerned about her rehab. If she were a human, she'd have a structured rehab program & I feel like she probably needs the same if she is to truly make a full recovery. I tried calling a rehab center for dogs, but the phone number online is incorrect. That sucks.
At this point though, sadly, I think to myself, "What's a few more hundred dollars? It's just a drop in the bucket of expense called 'Tobi'." Even if she doesn't get into a fully structured program (that includes warm water hydrotherapy), I do need some guidance on this. And, I need to discuss the pain management with the vet hospital, so I hope they call me back soon. It's one thing to give her IV meds when she's staying in a cage all day with very little activity or human contact; it's a whole other thing to send her home where she's going to be on oral meds & taken outside more frequently to avoid the whole pee pad situation. (Plus, she can't be bathed for a while, so that would be a total nightmare.)
I do know one thing though--I CANNOT handle eight weeks of this if every day is going to be like these first two have been. Even a week of it is too much for me. Speaking of weeks, it was exactly one week ago this morning that the whole horrible situation began. How time flies. Well, in this case drags miserably.
Lord, give me strength.
As joyous as it is to have Tobi Knish at home, the emotional, mental, and physical toll it is already taking is seemingly overwhelming the joy. Case in point: Last night.
After a very arduous day that included a 2 1/2 meeting during which my mental capabilities were thoroughly tested, I left the office and headed to package some orders for shipment today. Then, I went home and walked Matza, processed a few customer payments & answered emails and then headed over to Artis' to care for Tobi at about 7 pm. Fortunately, he had beat me home so I didn't have to walk her. Instead, he was sitting in bed playing on his laptop and watching TV while Tobi stayed in her crate close by. (He didn't want her to have to sit by herself while he chilled downstairs.) So, I did what any sane person in a fragile state would--I collapsed on the bed. And then I got up and held Tobi for a while. And then I mixed peanut butter into Tobi's food in hopes it would make her want to eat. It seemed to work.
I then attempted to work; I put forth valiant effort, in fact. But, it was not to be. Instead, I let Artis persuade me (and I put up ever so strong of a fight, of course) to watch a movie. We started "Shawshank Redemption", which I'm pretty sure I've seen before but I can't remember. We got about an hour into it and it was time for Tobi's pain meds and a trip outside. So, I took her outside and was so happy she finally did all of her business! (It's the little things...)
I got her back inside and got her settled, listening to her screams before her front pain-free paws had even touched the carpet. Dinner for me was not to be. Eventually, I decided that the girls and I would watch TV together. I fell asleep on the couch, waking up to Tobi's screams because I had moved and her right rear paw had touched the back of the couch. (It's the leg that's the most sensitive right now.) So, I took her up and got her into bed...screams and all...and went back out myself. A couple of hours later I was wide awake listening to her whimper. Then, I was awakened again by her repeated cries. I thought it was 6:30 a.m. It was 3:20. This continued on throughout the night, with Artis giving her the next dose of pain meds at 6:15. She screamed (and tried to bite me again) when I took her outside, screamed when I brought her back inside, and at 8 am I thanked the Lord it was time for me to leave the house to go back to my apartment to get ready to go to work.
Just a few hours of good, quality sleep would be nice at this point. I don't see that happening in the near future. Meanwhile, I have a call in to the surgical tech so I can further discuss her pain meds and the fact she's no longer attempting to put any weight on that rear right paw. She had started to make progress and now doesn't seem to be. I'm concerned about her rehab. If she were a human, she'd have a structured rehab program & I feel like she probably needs the same if she is to truly make a full recovery. I tried calling a rehab center for dogs, but the phone number online is incorrect. That sucks.
At this point though, sadly, I think to myself, "What's a few more hundred dollars? It's just a drop in the bucket of expense called 'Tobi'." Even if she doesn't get into a fully structured program (that includes warm water hydrotherapy), I do need some guidance on this. And, I need to discuss the pain management with the vet hospital, so I hope they call me back soon. It's one thing to give her IV meds when she's staying in a cage all day with very little activity or human contact; it's a whole other thing to send her home where she's going to be on oral meds & taken outside more frequently to avoid the whole pee pad situation. (Plus, she can't be bathed for a while, so that would be a total nightmare.)
I do know one thing though--I CANNOT handle eight weeks of this if every day is going to be like these first two have been. Even a week of it is too much for me. Speaking of weeks, it was exactly one week ago this morning that the whole horrible situation began. How time flies. Well, in this case drags miserably.
Lord, give me strength.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Tobi's home! (Now the real fun begins...)
All day today I looked forward to getting my Tobi home. The seconds dragged on and on like hours. Finally, I made it through crazy traffic (the genius working for the NCDOT that decided to shut down large portions of two major roads, while also detouring one to the other, needs to be shot) and got to the hospital on time for pick-up at 6 pm. At 7:30 pm, I finally got Tobi in the car and headed home.
Once home, I realized that her crate was not going to due afterall. She barely fit into it pre-surgery (she's my gentle giant that just kept growing), but it wasn't horrible. Plus, in the midst of all the craziness I still hadn't decided upon an alternative crate that would best fit all of our needs. Therefore, I hadn't ordered one or gone shopping for one in person either. Well, that was a mistake I had to fix. Meanwhile, I also needed dinner.
So, I left the girls with Artis and did something completely against my nature--I went to Petco. Yes, it's true. I supported a box store. What can I say? I was desperate. Anyway, I went and got this $90 crate and then stopped and got dinner at a drive-thru on my way home. I was gone for maybe 30 minutes. I came back in the door to find Artis looking all frazzled while he sat on the floor, Matza was in her crate freaking out (she hates being in her crate), and Tobi was sitting on a towel in the middle of the floor just shaking away. All hell had broken loose in that 30 minutes! It turns out that Tobi wasn't fitting into her crate at all, so he let her out, but then Matza attacked her to try to play, which caused Tobi to scream from the pain, so he put Matza in her crate and Tobi was left scared and shaking on the floor because he didn't dare touch her since he couldn't handle hearing her scream again. So, I picked Tobi up and held her close (she immediately stopped shaking), let Matza out of her crate so she'd stop barking, and eventually ate dinner while sitting on the couch with Tobi right next to me.
Meanwhile...
I decided that $90 was too much to have spent on a crate, so I got looking on Craigslist. I found two that sounded promising--one was only $30 and much larger. It looked brand-new and the seller lived close by. I emailed her and she immediately wrote back. She was willing to meet tonight, so we made arrangements. In the meantime I had Tobi back in her crate to get her to try to lay down. She made herself extra big, looked pitiful, and kept crying. Artis refused to make eye contact with her because she was milking it for all it was worth. So, I left her in there long enough to run over and meet the seller and get back home. Once home, I got the crate in place and all good to go. I got back downstairs to collect Tobi and what did the monster do?? She laid right down and curled up in her small crate!!! Yes, she in fact fit the entire time and had just been being a stinker while I was running all over creation to get her this bigger crate tonight. I just now tried to get her out of the smaller crate so that she can go to bed in the big one but she doesn't want to move. So, despite my extra efforts to get it all ready for her tonight, it was all for naught and she's spending the night in her small crate. Sigh.
I can tell we've got a long road ahead. Artis is terrified he's going to break her, Matza won't leave her alone, Tobi just wants to sleep and cuddle with me, and I don't have any clue about what I'm doing. Artis half-jokingly said he thinks we should call the vet hospital and tell them that they were wrong--that she's not ready to be home and that she needs to come back and stay or they need to come here to take care of her. I think once these first few days are over with and we get a routine figured out, we'll be OK. Until then, I may lose my mind trying to survive.
But, I still am just so happy she's home--I can ruffle up her crazy 'fro any ol' time I want to and I wouldn't have it any other way!
Once home, I realized that her crate was not going to due afterall. She barely fit into it pre-surgery (she's my gentle giant that just kept growing), but it wasn't horrible. Plus, in the midst of all the craziness I still hadn't decided upon an alternative crate that would best fit all of our needs. Therefore, I hadn't ordered one or gone shopping for one in person either. Well, that was a mistake I had to fix. Meanwhile, I also needed dinner.
So, I left the girls with Artis and did something completely against my nature--I went to Petco. Yes, it's true. I supported a box store. What can I say? I was desperate. Anyway, I went and got this $90 crate and then stopped and got dinner at a drive-thru on my way home. I was gone for maybe 30 minutes. I came back in the door to find Artis looking all frazzled while he sat on the floor, Matza was in her crate freaking out (she hates being in her crate), and Tobi was sitting on a towel in the middle of the floor just shaking away. All hell had broken loose in that 30 minutes! It turns out that Tobi wasn't fitting into her crate at all, so he let her out, but then Matza attacked her to try to play, which caused Tobi to scream from the pain, so he put Matza in her crate and Tobi was left scared and shaking on the floor because he didn't dare touch her since he couldn't handle hearing her scream again. So, I picked Tobi up and held her close (she immediately stopped shaking), let Matza out of her crate so she'd stop barking, and eventually ate dinner while sitting on the couch with Tobi right next to me.
Meanwhile...
I decided that $90 was too much to have spent on a crate, so I got looking on Craigslist. I found two that sounded promising--one was only $30 and much larger. It looked brand-new and the seller lived close by. I emailed her and she immediately wrote back. She was willing to meet tonight, so we made arrangements. In the meantime I had Tobi back in her crate to get her to try to lay down. She made herself extra big, looked pitiful, and kept crying. Artis refused to make eye contact with her because she was milking it for all it was worth. So, I left her in there long enough to run over and meet the seller and get back home. Once home, I got the crate in place and all good to go. I got back downstairs to collect Tobi and what did the monster do?? She laid right down and curled up in her small crate!!! Yes, she in fact fit the entire time and had just been being a stinker while I was running all over creation to get her this bigger crate tonight. I just now tried to get her out of the smaller crate so that she can go to bed in the big one but she doesn't want to move. So, despite my extra efforts to get it all ready for her tonight, it was all for naught and she's spending the night in her small crate. Sigh.
I can tell we've got a long road ahead. Artis is terrified he's going to break her, Matza won't leave her alone, Tobi just wants to sleep and cuddle with me, and I don't have any clue about what I'm doing. Artis half-jokingly said he thinks we should call the vet hospital and tell them that they were wrong--that she's not ready to be home and that she needs to come back and stay or they need to come here to take care of her. I think once these first few days are over with and we get a routine figured out, we'll be OK. Until then, I may lose my mind trying to survive.
But, I still am just so happy she's home--I can ruffle up her crazy 'fro any ol' time I want to and I wouldn't have it any other way!
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