So, today was an awesome day--Tobi walked for us!!! It was both exciting and painful to watch, all at the same time. She made it on three legs and used her back right leg as little as she could, but it was progress! Her back right leg is going to take longer to heal because the break where her pelvis and hip meet was not a clean one. Part of her hip remained attached to her pelvis, so it's a more tender spot for her. But, the fact she was even trying to walk was incredible.
Also, she has had a bunch of her medicines reduced so she is a lot more aware of her surroundings. She actually looked at us and recognized us (she was so out of it yesterday that I don't know as she even recognized who she herself was), plus I got a couple of licks out of her too. Oh, and as we were sitting there in the yard of the triage center, she saw some people walking across the way and started doing her deep little growl--it's sooooo Tobi! Normally we're trying to get her to stop growling and barking at every thing and everyone she sees, but it was so welcomed to have her back that we couldn't help but encourage her!
Yesterday, when the surgical tech picked her up to take her back in, she screamed and cried and tried to bite him. Today, she let out some groans and tried to nip at him a little bit, but it was nothing like yesterday. So, maybe tomorrow she will drop the biting part. Lord knows that little girl has some powerful jaws! (I did make some progress on the hand wounds by switching out to these gel-filled bandages that really seem to help. As long as Artis doesn't go crazy sterilizing the wounds, it doesn't hurt too bad.)
Tomorrow we're going to see her early in the morning and we'll try to get her to walk a little more. She may actually be home as early as Tuesday! We're working out the logistics for how this will all work. The current plan is that Tobi will stay full-time at Artis', while Matza and I travel back and forth. Tobi will be in her crate almost 24-hours/day for two months, so we're trying to make sure she doesn't get overly excited and want to get out and play with Matza all the time. Logistically, it's just not so fun. But, the thought of having her home is so exciting!! The problem is we probably won't get much else done at night for the next few weeks because we'll be hovering over her every move and encouraging her for doing the most basic things. I think she'll probably end up wishing she were back in the hospital just to escape our smothering, but whatev. She can cope. We need our Tobi back home.
Anyway, it's all great progress and we couldn't be happier!!
Update on 7-5-10--
Here is a video from yesterday's visit:
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Friday, July 2, 2010
The day the nightmare began.
I wish I had something witty or remotely happy to write about, but I don't. Instead, I'll write about yesterday--which is the day the living nightmare began for us.
The day started off normal. I had fallen asleep at Artis', so I was heading home with the girls so I could get ready for work and head back out. I always take a back route to avoid major roads; along this route there's a three-way stop in a nice quiet residential area. I was approaching the stop sign, slowing down and going about 15-20 mph. Tobi and Matza were in their booster seat in the backseat of Klaus, with Matza hanging her head out the window and Tobi doing her usual sit-and-stare thing. I was looking forward when I heard a thump against the side of the car by Tobi & Matza. I looked in the side mirror to make sure they both were OK and all I saw was Matza. Right when I realized Tobi had fallen out of the window, her restraint's buckle broke and she went under the rear wheel. I can't even describe how sickening that feeling was. It all happened so fast but in my head it's like a movie in slow motion. Painfully slow motion at that. In my head I have enough time to slam on the brakes before the buckle broke, run around the car, and get her back in her seat. But, the reality is that it wasn't at all like that or that easy.
I immediately threw the car into park, jumped out, and ran for the back of the car just praying she was still alive. I kept thinking, "Oh please oh please oh please just let it be her leg I ran over." I wouldn't have been excited about a broken-legged Tobi, but if anything had to be ran over it would be the least traumatic & seemingly the easiest to fix. Tobi was laying on the ground, screaming as only Tobi can, with this terrified look in her eyes as I ran towards her. There was a car behind me--a white Mazda--and he had seen it all happen. I picked her up as gently as I could, trying to hold her close to me, but she kept pulling her head back. As she did, she bit down onto my right hand, which had been supporting her head. She was so scared and so hurt & I am just sure she was trying to figure out where all this pain was coming from, so she went after the only thing she could--me. I pulled my hand back and I recall thinking about how amazingly strong her grip was. It felt like all of her teeth had sunken in a good inch on both sides of my hand. I got my hand back and she bit it again right as I did. I kept saying, "Tobi it's going to be OK...ouch! Tobi please don't bite...it'll be OK baby...OUCH! Tobi please stop..." And, as much as it hurt, I was in such shock that I was oblivious to just what damage she had done.
The guy in the white car pulled up and said, "You just ran over your dog. She's really hurt & you need to get her help." Really? I hadn't thought of that. I said, "What part of her went under the wheel? Was it just her leg?" He said, "I don't know but she's really hurt. You hurt her a lot." I said, "You don't know what part of her was ran over?" And with that he drove off. The way he said it was so rude--as if I'd purposely put her under the wheel. He made me feel like the worst human being on earth. I just wanted to know from him what he saw so that I could tell the vet what all got hit the worst. When I'd gotten to her, she was trying to stand up and wasn't putting weight on her right leg. I didn't realize at the time that I'd driven over the top of her entire lower half.
Even though it feels like I had a five minute conversation with the jerk, in reality it was more like 10-15 seconds from the time I jumped out of the car to the time when I had Tobi in the front seat. She was so terrified. I put my hand on her to keep her stable and I floored it from there. My mind was everywhere at that point. I called my boss and left a message to let her know I wouldn't be in. I don't recall what I said, but I do know it had to have sounded ridiculous because I couldn't focus. I then called Artis, who was just leaving the doctor's office after some testing. I said, "Where are you at?" He said, "Getting into an elevator. What's wrong?" I said, "I was driving. And then Tobi fell out and her buckle broke...and I drove over the top of her and she's hurt and scared." I was completely in tears and trying to not totally lose it at that point, but it was so hard not to. I don't even remember driving a stretch of the road, but I remember where I was when I was talking to him because he asked where I was and where I was going. I told him which animal hospital (the closest one I could think of, even though we'd never been there; I just knew she needed help fast) and he said he'd meet me there. I turned on my hazards and drove 70 mph down the street, got to the hospital quickly, and I got Tobi inside. (Matza was still with me too and in the seat.)
I ran in looking all sorts of wonderful--I'd not showered, my hair was standing straight up, my hand was covered in blood, I was in total shock, and Tobi was a mess. They took her from me, got as much info as they could to get going, and then I went and got Matza. I brought her in and held her while they evaluated Tobi. Artis showed up and they brought him to the exam room. As soon as he walked in, Tobi started wagging her little nubby tail (it was docked before I got her and while I wouldn't have done that, I still think it's cute on her). That was the first time I felt like it'd be OK. It was also the last time for quite a while that I felt like it'd be OK. The doctor took Tobi and did a bunch of scans on her, but told me I had to go to Urgent Care to get my hand taken care of. I could've cared less. I said I'd wash the blood off and wrap it in a towel and it'd be fine, but she said that I'd best help Tobi by taking care of myself too.
So, I took Matza home, cleaned myself up, and went to Urgent Care while they got Tobi stabilized. It took forever at Urgent Care. I kept asking how much longer and they said just a few minutes. "Just a few minutes" turned into 45 minutes in which I could've been taking Tobi from the vet to the triage hospital, where they were going to have to do surgery. I texted Artis to see if he'd just write me a prescription for a basic antibiotic so that I didn't have to wait any longer. I figured that's all they'd do since Tobi's up-to-date on her shots, I'm current on my tetanus shot, and the wounds were not that bad. Plus, they don't typically stitch dog bites even if they are bad. Right as Artis wrote back and said he would, Tobi's vet called to see where I was and so I stepped out of the room to talk to her. Of course it was right then that the nurse came to get me. I walked back into the waiting room and the other patients said I'd just been called. I said, "Of course I was. It figures." Fortunately, I didn't lose my place in line and they came back for me. I got in and out quickly, then went over to get Tobi.
I met with the vet for a few more minutes, paid the $450 bill, and got Tobi and her IV so I could take them over to the triage hospital. I had put one of her floor pillow beds in the front seat of Klaus and made a nest for her; the vet's covered her in blankets and pillows to provide more stability and cushioning for her. It basically looked like a giant pile of bedding with a Tobi head sticking out of it. I put my hand over by her and she cuddled against it, licked it a couple of times, and then took a little nap (or tried to) while I drove. It didn't take long to get to the triage center and they were expecting us. So, they had a nurse at the front door to open the door, another nurse with a walkie talkie who paged the triage team when I ran through the door, and five triage team members who came running and got her from me. The receptionist called me over, told me it would be OK, and then had me do some slow breathing with her.
The one thing I must say is that I could not be more impressed with the kindness of all of these professionals through all of this. From the unknown vet's office to the strangers at the triage center, every single person was so kind and helpful.
They assessed Tobi for a while, put me in an exam room to wait, and then eventually came to give me an update. The vet had told me most of what they said, so it wasn't too big of a shock. The fortunate thing is that the vet originally thought her bladder may have gone outside her stomach because they couldn't see it in the initial scan (right before getting in the car, Tobi had peed, so her bladder was empty & that's why it didn't show), but at the triage center they didn't feel that was the case. The problem was that Tobi was too hurt to put the little ultrasound probe against her stomach, so they couldn't tell for sure.
Artis came and sat with me for a while, at which point we had to discuss whether or not to pay the $5-7K they were estimating the surgery would cost (the low estimate had to be paid in full up-front) or if it'd be best for her to be put to sleep. I told him I couldn't and wouldn't decide that. I'd sell my furniture and all that I own before I did that to Tobi. He said we needed to consider her quality of life post-surgery, so I called the surgeon back out and had a talk with him. Artis had to get back to see patients, so he left before the surgeon came back. I asked all that I needed to, they told me she'd most likely make a full recovery, and that was all I needed to know. I paid and then left.
They put her in the ICU shortly after I left because she'd started to go back into shock and her heart rate was dropping. The good thing about her going into the ICU was that visitation was actually easier than if she'd been put in the intermediate care. It was quite bizarre, but whatev. I went home, completely lost it all over again, cuddled with Matza, and then Artis & I had dinner while waiting for visiting hours. The orthopedic surgeon called to give us the final details of what they proposed and it all sounded quite positive.
We went and visited her and it was so tough. I thought it'd make me feel better to see her, but it didn't. Artis couldn't handle seeing her like that and in those conditions, so he had to leave the room and wait in the lobby. I talked with her, petted her, and kept my head close to hers so she'd stay calm. The second I didn't, she'd start to cry. I finally couldn't take it any more myself and so I gave her some love and left.
She remained stable through the night and they were supposed to call me before she went into surgery this afternoon. They never did call, so at 4:30 I called to see what the deal was. They said she'd just come out of surgery and was in recovery. The receptionist said they'd call me soon with details. They still haven't called and it's now 6:30, so I just tried them again. The receptionist said she'd make sure they called me soon. I hope they do.
Last night Artis and I talked about how it felt like a nightmare that you can't seem to wake from. It felt like a surreal nightmare until about noon today. Then reality started to sink in that this is really happening. I hardly slept last night, I've been at the point today where I feel like vomiting when I think about it all, and I could not feel worse about the whole thing. Coming back into the house with Tobi's empty collar, walking Matza by herself, only being greeted by one dog when I got home from work, and not being able to tell Tobi that we're not barking and instead we're just being quiet has made my life feel completely void. Poor Matza gets to put up with me constantly cuddling with her and carrying her everywhere and I know she can't wait for Sister to get home.
Tobi will be in the hospital for at least five days and then mostly immobile and resting for 8 weeks. After that, she can start resuming some normal activities and we should be OK from there. It's just getting to that point that's tough. But, she did survive a Volkswagen going over the top of her and she's only 8 lbs., so I daresay she's a good fighter and will be OK in the long run. It's me that looks to be the long-term mess...
The day started off normal. I had fallen asleep at Artis', so I was heading home with the girls so I could get ready for work and head back out. I always take a back route to avoid major roads; along this route there's a three-way stop in a nice quiet residential area. I was approaching the stop sign, slowing down and going about 15-20 mph. Tobi and Matza were in their booster seat in the backseat of Klaus, with Matza hanging her head out the window and Tobi doing her usual sit-and-stare thing. I was looking forward when I heard a thump against the side of the car by Tobi & Matza. I looked in the side mirror to make sure they both were OK and all I saw was Matza. Right when I realized Tobi had fallen out of the window, her restraint's buckle broke and she went under the rear wheel. I can't even describe how sickening that feeling was. It all happened so fast but in my head it's like a movie in slow motion. Painfully slow motion at that. In my head I have enough time to slam on the brakes before the buckle broke, run around the car, and get her back in her seat. But, the reality is that it wasn't at all like that or that easy.
I immediately threw the car into park, jumped out, and ran for the back of the car just praying she was still alive. I kept thinking, "Oh please oh please oh please just let it be her leg I ran over." I wouldn't have been excited about a broken-legged Tobi, but if anything had to be ran over it would be the least traumatic & seemingly the easiest to fix. Tobi was laying on the ground, screaming as only Tobi can, with this terrified look in her eyes as I ran towards her. There was a car behind me--a white Mazda--and he had seen it all happen. I picked her up as gently as I could, trying to hold her close to me, but she kept pulling her head back. As she did, she bit down onto my right hand, which had been supporting her head. She was so scared and so hurt & I am just sure she was trying to figure out where all this pain was coming from, so she went after the only thing she could--me. I pulled my hand back and I recall thinking about how amazingly strong her grip was. It felt like all of her teeth had sunken in a good inch on both sides of my hand. I got my hand back and she bit it again right as I did. I kept saying, "Tobi it's going to be OK...ouch! Tobi please don't bite...it'll be OK baby...OUCH! Tobi please stop..." And, as much as it hurt, I was in such shock that I was oblivious to just what damage she had done.
The guy in the white car pulled up and said, "You just ran over your dog. She's really hurt & you need to get her help." Really? I hadn't thought of that. I said, "What part of her went under the wheel? Was it just her leg?" He said, "I don't know but she's really hurt. You hurt her a lot." I said, "You don't know what part of her was ran over?" And with that he drove off. The way he said it was so rude--as if I'd purposely put her under the wheel. He made me feel like the worst human being on earth. I just wanted to know from him what he saw so that I could tell the vet what all got hit the worst. When I'd gotten to her, she was trying to stand up and wasn't putting weight on her right leg. I didn't realize at the time that I'd driven over the top of her entire lower half.
Even though it feels like I had a five minute conversation with the jerk, in reality it was more like 10-15 seconds from the time I jumped out of the car to the time when I had Tobi in the front seat. She was so terrified. I put my hand on her to keep her stable and I floored it from there. My mind was everywhere at that point. I called my boss and left a message to let her know I wouldn't be in. I don't recall what I said, but I do know it had to have sounded ridiculous because I couldn't focus. I then called Artis, who was just leaving the doctor's office after some testing. I said, "Where are you at?" He said, "Getting into an elevator. What's wrong?" I said, "I was driving. And then Tobi fell out and her buckle broke...and I drove over the top of her and she's hurt and scared." I was completely in tears and trying to not totally lose it at that point, but it was so hard not to. I don't even remember driving a stretch of the road, but I remember where I was when I was talking to him because he asked where I was and where I was going. I told him which animal hospital (the closest one I could think of, even though we'd never been there; I just knew she needed help fast) and he said he'd meet me there. I turned on my hazards and drove 70 mph down the street, got to the hospital quickly, and I got Tobi inside. (Matza was still with me too and in the seat.)
I ran in looking all sorts of wonderful--I'd not showered, my hair was standing straight up, my hand was covered in blood, I was in total shock, and Tobi was a mess. They took her from me, got as much info as they could to get going, and then I went and got Matza. I brought her in and held her while they evaluated Tobi. Artis showed up and they brought him to the exam room. As soon as he walked in, Tobi started wagging her little nubby tail (it was docked before I got her and while I wouldn't have done that, I still think it's cute on her). That was the first time I felt like it'd be OK. It was also the last time for quite a while that I felt like it'd be OK. The doctor took Tobi and did a bunch of scans on her, but told me I had to go to Urgent Care to get my hand taken care of. I could've cared less. I said I'd wash the blood off and wrap it in a towel and it'd be fine, but she said that I'd best help Tobi by taking care of myself too.
So, I took Matza home, cleaned myself up, and went to Urgent Care while they got Tobi stabilized. It took forever at Urgent Care. I kept asking how much longer and they said just a few minutes. "Just a few minutes" turned into 45 minutes in which I could've been taking Tobi from the vet to the triage hospital, where they were going to have to do surgery. I texted Artis to see if he'd just write me a prescription for a basic antibiotic so that I didn't have to wait any longer. I figured that's all they'd do since Tobi's up-to-date on her shots, I'm current on my tetanus shot, and the wounds were not that bad. Plus, they don't typically stitch dog bites even if they are bad. Right as Artis wrote back and said he would, Tobi's vet called to see where I was and so I stepped out of the room to talk to her. Of course it was right then that the nurse came to get me. I walked back into the waiting room and the other patients said I'd just been called. I said, "Of course I was. It figures." Fortunately, I didn't lose my place in line and they came back for me. I got in and out quickly, then went over to get Tobi.
I met with the vet for a few more minutes, paid the $450 bill, and got Tobi and her IV so I could take them over to the triage hospital. I had put one of her floor pillow beds in the front seat of Klaus and made a nest for her; the vet's covered her in blankets and pillows to provide more stability and cushioning for her. It basically looked like a giant pile of bedding with a Tobi head sticking out of it. I put my hand over by her and she cuddled against it, licked it a couple of times, and then took a little nap (or tried to) while I drove. It didn't take long to get to the triage center and they were expecting us. So, they had a nurse at the front door to open the door, another nurse with a walkie talkie who paged the triage team when I ran through the door, and five triage team members who came running and got her from me. The receptionist called me over, told me it would be OK, and then had me do some slow breathing with her.
The one thing I must say is that I could not be more impressed with the kindness of all of these professionals through all of this. From the unknown vet's office to the strangers at the triage center, every single person was so kind and helpful.
They assessed Tobi for a while, put me in an exam room to wait, and then eventually came to give me an update. The vet had told me most of what they said, so it wasn't too big of a shock. The fortunate thing is that the vet originally thought her bladder may have gone outside her stomach because they couldn't see it in the initial scan (right before getting in the car, Tobi had peed, so her bladder was empty & that's why it didn't show), but at the triage center they didn't feel that was the case. The problem was that Tobi was too hurt to put the little ultrasound probe against her stomach, so they couldn't tell for sure.
Artis came and sat with me for a while, at which point we had to discuss whether or not to pay the $5-7K they were estimating the surgery would cost (the low estimate had to be paid in full up-front) or if it'd be best for her to be put to sleep. I told him I couldn't and wouldn't decide that. I'd sell my furniture and all that I own before I did that to Tobi. He said we needed to consider her quality of life post-surgery, so I called the surgeon back out and had a talk with him. Artis had to get back to see patients, so he left before the surgeon came back. I asked all that I needed to, they told me she'd most likely make a full recovery, and that was all I needed to know. I paid and then left.
They put her in the ICU shortly after I left because she'd started to go back into shock and her heart rate was dropping. The good thing about her going into the ICU was that visitation was actually easier than if she'd been put in the intermediate care. It was quite bizarre, but whatev. I went home, completely lost it all over again, cuddled with Matza, and then Artis & I had dinner while waiting for visiting hours. The orthopedic surgeon called to give us the final details of what they proposed and it all sounded quite positive.
We went and visited her and it was so tough. I thought it'd make me feel better to see her, but it didn't. Artis couldn't handle seeing her like that and in those conditions, so he had to leave the room and wait in the lobby. I talked with her, petted her, and kept my head close to hers so she'd stay calm. The second I didn't, she'd start to cry. I finally couldn't take it any more myself and so I gave her some love and left.
She remained stable through the night and they were supposed to call me before she went into surgery this afternoon. They never did call, so at 4:30 I called to see what the deal was. They said she'd just come out of surgery and was in recovery. The receptionist said they'd call me soon with details. They still haven't called and it's now 6:30, so I just tried them again. The receptionist said she'd make sure they called me soon. I hope they do.
Last night Artis and I talked about how it felt like a nightmare that you can't seem to wake from. It felt like a surreal nightmare until about noon today. Then reality started to sink in that this is really happening. I hardly slept last night, I've been at the point today where I feel like vomiting when I think about it all, and I could not feel worse about the whole thing. Coming back into the house with Tobi's empty collar, walking Matza by herself, only being greeted by one dog when I got home from work, and not being able to tell Tobi that we're not barking and instead we're just being quiet has made my life feel completely void. Poor Matza gets to put up with me constantly cuddling with her and carrying her everywhere and I know she can't wait for Sister to get home.
Tobi will be in the hospital for at least five days and then mostly immobile and resting for 8 weeks. After that, she can start resuming some normal activities and we should be OK from there. It's just getting to that point that's tough. But, she did survive a Volkswagen going over the top of her and she's only 8 lbs., so I daresay she's a good fighter and will be OK in the long run. It's me that looks to be the long-term mess...
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Buh-bye, baby. Sniffle. Sniffle.
So, it's official. I have started the process of shutting down my "baby", Second Coats. I haven't put any focus on it for some time & it's no use to drag the inevitable out any longer. So I'm closing the site and retaining the URL in case I decide to use it later for some reason.
It's kind of bittersweet. Bitter in that it was something I created from scratch--it was a concept, a lot of hard work, and then reality--and I hate to see it go. It's sweet in that it served as a tremendous launching pad to get me to where I'm at today with Bark Slope. Do I make mistakes running Bark Slope? Yes. But fortunately most of my big mistakes were done with Second Coats. Had I not started Second Coats, I'd never have even known about Bark Slope. So, I'm grateful for all that it did bring to me and for the knowledge I gained from it all.
Now comes the "fun" process of closing it down from the legal aspect, selling off the inventory I don't want to use for Bark Slope, and getting it all squared away so that I don't have to worry about it anymore. It's weird because I don't feel like I'm necessarily closing a chapter in my life--it's more like turning a page in this case. Bark Slope and Second Coats had so many similarities (the big glaring difference--Bark Slope makes money; Second Coats does not) that the experience of the two of them intertwines mentally and emotionally for me. It's like the chapter starts with just one character, but then the character ends up with a cohort...and then the character dies and the cohort is the only one left and the chapter keeps going without him. (It sounds like such a happy storyline when I put it into an analogy. Perhaps it's best I not do that...)
So, while I will miss the satisfaction of going to Second Coats' site and knowing exactly what it took to get it going, I won't miss the added stress of having both businesses going at the same time. It was with Second Coats that I experienced the wrath of Hurricane Hanna, threw out my back while setting up my weekend booths at the flea market & then had painful physical therapy to get back on track, and that I spent countless hours in the heat and humidity every single Saturday for months on end while running said booth at the flea market. My life became dictated by Second Coats' needs, which was a great introduction so that taking over Bark Slope wasn't such a shock.
It was also with Second Coats that I met so many great people (like the girl who runs a dog rescue in the midst of the endless surgeries to try to repair her shrapnel-torn body that was injured while she was a soldier in Iraq), learned that I could put my dreams on paper and then turn them into reality (as happened when I designed my t-shirt line, which later made it to the shelves of retail stores; there's nothing quite like walking into a store and seeing something you designed sitting on their racks), and that I gained business maturity I never thought I'd have.
So, yes, it's with bittersweet feelings that I close Second Coats--but rather than saying "goodbye" I instead say "thank you".
It's kind of bittersweet. Bitter in that it was something I created from scratch--it was a concept, a lot of hard work, and then reality--and I hate to see it go. It's sweet in that it served as a tremendous launching pad to get me to where I'm at today with Bark Slope. Do I make mistakes running Bark Slope? Yes. But fortunately most of my big mistakes were done with Second Coats. Had I not started Second Coats, I'd never have even known about Bark Slope. So, I'm grateful for all that it did bring to me and for the knowledge I gained from it all.
Now comes the "fun" process of closing it down from the legal aspect, selling off the inventory I don't want to use for Bark Slope, and getting it all squared away so that I don't have to worry about it anymore. It's weird because I don't feel like I'm necessarily closing a chapter in my life--it's more like turning a page in this case. Bark Slope and Second Coats had so many similarities (the big glaring difference--Bark Slope makes money; Second Coats does not) that the experience of the two of them intertwines mentally and emotionally for me. It's like the chapter starts with just one character, but then the character ends up with a cohort...and then the character dies and the cohort is the only one left and the chapter keeps going without him. (It sounds like such a happy storyline when I put it into an analogy. Perhaps it's best I not do that...)
So, while I will miss the satisfaction of going to Second Coats' site and knowing exactly what it took to get it going, I won't miss the added stress of having both businesses going at the same time. It was with Second Coats that I experienced the wrath of Hurricane Hanna, threw out my back while setting up my weekend booths at the flea market & then had painful physical therapy to get back on track, and that I spent countless hours in the heat and humidity every single Saturday for months on end while running said booth at the flea market. My life became dictated by Second Coats' needs, which was a great introduction so that taking over Bark Slope wasn't such a shock.
It was also with Second Coats that I met so many great people (like the girl who runs a dog rescue in the midst of the endless surgeries to try to repair her shrapnel-torn body that was injured while she was a soldier in Iraq), learned that I could put my dreams on paper and then turn them into reality (as happened when I designed my t-shirt line, which later made it to the shelves of retail stores; there's nothing quite like walking into a store and seeing something you designed sitting on their racks), and that I gained business maturity I never thought I'd have.
So, yes, it's with bittersweet feelings that I close Second Coats--but rather than saying "goodbye" I instead say "thank you".
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Deux days. Deux posts. Deux anniversaries.
Bonjour!
Deux?? Bonjour?? Well, I'm channeling my inner Jean-Pierre this morning, what can I say?! (If you were to hear me say this post's title in person, I would say it with an accent that sounds like that of a French harlot mixed with the voice of Lumiere from "Beauty and the Beast". And I'd have thrown in "croissant" and "oui, oui...but not on this carpet" somewhere in there too.)
At any rate, this is two posts in two days--and there are two anniversaries today. The odds of this all happening in relation to the number two...they're phenomenal. (Or we'll pretend they are because we're creative like that.)
"What, pray tell, are the two anniversaries," you ask? I shall tell you without further adieux...my little croissant. [insert French laugh...wo hooo hoo] Oui oui. Baguette.
Anniversary Un:
It was on June 24th, 2006, that Darin and I left the motherland (Utah) and started our pilgrimage across America that ultimately lead us to our current locations of DC and Raleigh. We packed up Luh-fawn-duh the Honda (mostly with Darin's crap, of course...I packed light) and trekked for mile upon mile upon mile, with multiple adventures along the way. You can read about it/see a picture of the interior of Luh-fawn-duh packed with Darin's voluminous belongings by following these links to previous posts surrounding this illustrious event:
http://kadertot.blogspot.com/2008/06/noteable-anniversary.html
http://kadertot.blogspot.com/2008/06/picture-to-commemorate-anniversary.html
Anniversary Deux:
It was on February 24, 2009 that I first met Artis. (If you've done your third grade-level math correctly, you have deduced that it is in fact our 16-month anniversary today. A noteworthy event, despite not being a whole-year anniversary number.) So, I've had 16 months of wonderful bliss.
OK, so maybe not bliss those first few months in which I was an emotionally closed-off beast with protective walls far stronger than anything Fort Knox can tout. But they were still wonderful months. The bliss just came later...after the walls started to crumble. Let's just say that I cannot sing Beyonce's "Hello" lyrics to describe our initial encounter and time together. (She'd sing it something like this: "You haa-uh-d me a-uh-t hellooo hellooooOOOO helllooooOOOOOooooOOOOooooooo.") It's not that I didn't like Artis, but it wasn't head-over-heels infatuation from the moment we met. That all happened over time--and, in looking back, I wouldn't have had it any other way. We developed such a great friendship, despite our polar opposite personalities, and it was upon this foundation that everything else has been built.
Without getting all schmaltzy and nauseatingly sweet (I'll save that for the whole-year numbered anniversaries), I will simply say that I'm very grateful for the 16 months that Artis and I have had together--both the good and even not-so-fun parts we've gotten through together--and I look forward to many more!
Anyway, lots to celebrate today--the anniversary of a new life in so many ways. And a wonderful life at that, I might add.
Until next time, I bid you adieux, mon ami!
~moi
Deux?? Bonjour?? Well, I'm channeling my inner Jean-Pierre this morning, what can I say?! (If you were to hear me say this post's title in person, I would say it with an accent that sounds like that of a French harlot mixed with the voice of Lumiere from "Beauty and the Beast". And I'd have thrown in "croissant" and "oui, oui...but not on this carpet" somewhere in there too.)
At any rate, this is two posts in two days--and there are two anniversaries today. The odds of this all happening in relation to the number two...they're phenomenal. (Or we'll pretend they are because we're creative like that.)
"What, pray tell, are the two anniversaries," you ask? I shall tell you without further adieux...my little croissant. [insert French laugh...wo hooo hoo] Oui oui. Baguette.
Anniversary Un:
It was on June 24th, 2006, that Darin and I left the motherland (Utah) and started our pilgrimage across America that ultimately lead us to our current locations of DC and Raleigh. We packed up Luh-fawn-duh the Honda (mostly with Darin's crap, of course...I packed light) and trekked for mile upon mile upon mile, with multiple adventures along the way. You can read about it/see a picture of the interior of Luh-fawn-duh packed with Darin's voluminous belongings by following these links to previous posts surrounding this illustrious event:
http://kadertot.blogspot.com/2008/06/noteable-anniversary.html
http://kadertot.blogspot.com/2008/06/picture-to-commemorate-anniversary.html
Anniversary Deux:
It was on February 24, 2009 that I first met Artis. (If you've done your third grade-level math correctly, you have deduced that it is in fact our 16-month anniversary today. A noteworthy event, despite not being a whole-year anniversary number.) So, I've had 16 months of wonderful bliss.
OK, so maybe not bliss those first few months in which I was an emotionally closed-off beast with protective walls far stronger than anything Fort Knox can tout. But they were still wonderful months. The bliss just came later...after the walls started to crumble. Let's just say that I cannot sing Beyonce's "Hello" lyrics to describe our initial encounter and time together. (She'd sing it something like this: "You haa-uh-d me a-uh-t hellooo hellooooOOOO helllooooOOOOOooooOOOOooooooo.") It's not that I didn't like Artis, but it wasn't head-over-heels infatuation from the moment we met. That all happened over time--and, in looking back, I wouldn't have had it any other way. We developed such a great friendship, despite our polar opposite personalities, and it was upon this foundation that everything else has been built.
Without getting all schmaltzy and nauseatingly sweet (I'll save that for the whole-year numbered anniversaries), I will simply say that I'm very grateful for the 16 months that Artis and I have had together--both the good and even not-so-fun parts we've gotten through together--and I look forward to many more!
Anyway, lots to celebrate today--the anniversary of a new life in so many ways. And a wonderful life at that, I might add.
Until next time, I bid you adieux, mon ami!
~moi
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
I am back. And in better shape than my favorite crackwhore.
Greetings, gentle readers! (OK, so that's giving myself far too much credit. Make that "reader" in the singular form. Gracious, I may as well just address this as "Dear Mom,"...)
Don't ask me why, but for the last two weeks it's been gnawing at me that I need to start blogging again. Not that it's ever read or is even that interesting...or that it was even missed for the last 1 1/2 years since I last wrote...but it is a good outlet to release all of these random thoughts and ideas that cross my brain in a given day. And there are plenty.
I should preface today's thoughts by saying that my most productively genius moments actually occur while I'm in the shower. Odd, I know, but for some reason that's when I can solve most of the dilemmas in my life...and I must say that I've come up with some pretty darn tootin' good ideas while wearing nothing but some shampoo and a smile on my face! (Interesting side note: I also tend to solve problems in my dreams & then wake up thinking about it, apply what I dreamt, and it usually fixes whatever has been taxing my ever-fragile brain for far too long.) Yes, I have indeed been known to take multiple showers in a day not only because I have this OCD need to be clean, but because I'll have a need for something to be solved.
And then there are other shower times that result in absolutely nothing but a random ride on the roller coaster through my brain. Sometimes that roller coaster derails entirely. And the cart falls off the track & smashes into the ground. And the airbags do not deploy. Enter today's wreck/subject: my favorite crackwhore, Whitney Houston.
It's a long, convoluted story, but in short--I was showering and thinking about my friend Greg's recent blog posting, which reminded me of a similar posting of mine in which Friend Cammie Jan commented in reply to what I said and quoted a Whitney Houston song in the process. That's where the cart left the track and started on the downhill race towards asphalt.
So, Miss Whitney. I've always loved her and was saddened when there were no more wonderful albums being released...and even more saddened (read: disgusted) when I watched her and Bobby Brown on their [gratefully] short-lived reality show. The scene that stands out most to me--of all the wasted hours spent watching...which was, embarrassingly enough, many--is one that involves Mr. and Mrs. Brown, a toilet, and Whitney requesting Bobby's help in handling something. Literally HANDling something. I'll leave it at that before I vomit. Anyway, I figured then that her career and future were in the crapper, so to speak. Needless to say, I was quite surprised to hear that she was planning a comeback. And I was hopeful. Yes, friend, I was ever-so-hopeful. Hopeful that "The Voice" was back and would produce songs that I could sing not only in the shower, but also belt out while driving, grocery shopping, getting my haircut, walking the dogs--heck, anywhere that I could share the joy of singing a Whitney Houston ballad. Sadly, it was not to be.
When Whitney was on Oprah I decided that she'd end up needing to have two comebacks. The first attempt, already in full swing at that point, wasn't going so well as was. Then, when she told Oprah she was no longer on drugs and was living the good life, I looked ahead to what is bound to be a future "Oprah" episode: "Whitney Lied". Apparently, I am not alone in thinking this:
http://www.showbizspy.com/article/192855/whitney-houston-lied-to-oprah.html
Her response was too odd. I just didn't buy it. So, in my envisioned future episode she'll tearfully admit to Oprah that she lied during her first visit, feels awful but thanks her fans for standing by her, and is now on the path to recovery after she does a short stint in rehab. (Let's just hope the second interview isn't also a two-episode saga like the first one.)
Aside from all of this, there's a small problem with her first attempt (and it's a feeble attempt, at best)--the woman can't sing anymore. To me, that's an issue here. I offer up, as evidence, this little piece of Hell (aka footage from a Whitney Houston concert in Australia)--
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_2HWA0zN_o
Is it just me or does she speak her songs now, rather than sing them? And, I don't think that looooooong pause before the "And iiii--eeeee--iiiiii" was all just for dramatic effect. I think some of it was just so that she had time to store up enough oxygen to get through the next part. Much like a bagpipe. But bless her heart for trying.
Anyway, while I do try to think the best about [most] people and hope for positive outcomes in [most] situations, I do not think it is to be for my favorite crackwhore. Not this time anyway. Perhaps after the second "Oprah" episode she'll be here to stay. Meanwhile, I need to go shower again; I can't stop thinking about that revolting reality show episode. And I feel dirty.
Until next time... (hopefully sooner, rather than later)
~me
Don't ask me why, but for the last two weeks it's been gnawing at me that I need to start blogging again. Not that it's ever read or is even that interesting...or that it was even missed for the last 1 1/2 years since I last wrote...but it is a good outlet to release all of these random thoughts and ideas that cross my brain in a given day. And there are plenty.
I should preface today's thoughts by saying that my most productively genius moments actually occur while I'm in the shower. Odd, I know, but for some reason that's when I can solve most of the dilemmas in my life...and I must say that I've come up with some pretty darn tootin' good ideas while wearing nothing but some shampoo and a smile on my face! (Interesting side note: I also tend to solve problems in my dreams & then wake up thinking about it, apply what I dreamt, and it usually fixes whatever has been taxing my ever-fragile brain for far too long.) Yes, I have indeed been known to take multiple showers in a day not only because I have this OCD need to be clean, but because I'll have a need for something to be solved.
And then there are other shower times that result in absolutely nothing but a random ride on the roller coaster through my brain. Sometimes that roller coaster derails entirely. And the cart falls off the track & smashes into the ground. And the airbags do not deploy. Enter today's wreck/subject: my favorite crackwhore, Whitney Houston.
It's a long, convoluted story, but in short--I was showering and thinking about my friend Greg's recent blog posting, which reminded me of a similar posting of mine in which Friend Cammie Jan commented in reply to what I said and quoted a Whitney Houston song in the process. That's where the cart left the track and started on the downhill race towards asphalt.
So, Miss Whitney. I've always loved her and was saddened when there were no more wonderful albums being released...and even more saddened (read: disgusted) when I watched her and Bobby Brown on their [gratefully] short-lived reality show. The scene that stands out most to me--of all the wasted hours spent watching...which was, embarrassingly enough, many--is one that involves Mr. and Mrs. Brown, a toilet, and Whitney requesting Bobby's help in handling something. Literally HANDling something. I'll leave it at that before I vomit. Anyway, I figured then that her career and future were in the crapper, so to speak. Needless to say, I was quite surprised to hear that she was planning a comeback. And I was hopeful. Yes, friend, I was ever-so-hopeful. Hopeful that "The Voice" was back and would produce songs that I could sing not only in the shower, but also belt out while driving, grocery shopping, getting my haircut, walking the dogs--heck, anywhere that I could share the joy of singing a Whitney Houston ballad. Sadly, it was not to be.
When Whitney was on Oprah I decided that she'd end up needing to have two comebacks. The first attempt, already in full swing at that point, wasn't going so well as was. Then, when she told Oprah she was no longer on drugs and was living the good life, I looked ahead to what is bound to be a future "Oprah" episode: "Whitney Lied". Apparently, I am not alone in thinking this:
http://www.showbizspy.com/article/192855/whitney-houston-lied-to-oprah.html
Her response was too odd. I just didn't buy it. So, in my envisioned future episode she'll tearfully admit to Oprah that she lied during her first visit, feels awful but thanks her fans for standing by her, and is now on the path to recovery after she does a short stint in rehab. (Let's just hope the second interview isn't also a two-episode saga like the first one.)
Aside from all of this, there's a small problem with her first attempt (and it's a feeble attempt, at best)--the woman can't sing anymore. To me, that's an issue here. I offer up, as evidence, this little piece of Hell (aka footage from a Whitney Houston concert in Australia)--
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_2HWA0zN_o
Is it just me or does she speak her songs now, rather than sing them? And, I don't think that looooooong pause before the "And iiii--eeeee--iiiiii" was all just for dramatic effect. I think some of it was just so that she had time to store up enough oxygen to get through the next part. Much like a bagpipe. But bless her heart for trying.
Anyway, while I do try to think the best about [most] people and hope for positive outcomes in [most] situations, I do not think it is to be for my favorite crackwhore. Not this time anyway. Perhaps after the second "Oprah" episode she'll be here to stay. Meanwhile, I need to go shower again; I can't stop thinking about that revolting reality show episode. And I feel dirty.
Until next time... (hopefully sooner, rather than later)
~me
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