Our friend Kenan sent this, and it made me chuckle so I thought I'd share:
DOG DIARY
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite!
CAT DIARY
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape.
In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies'. I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow - but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Happy Anniversary to Us!
Our marriage is two years old today! Yay!
Happy anniversary, my shumma.
I love you more than all the stars in the sky
and the fishes in the sea...
Happy anniversary, my shumma.
I love you more than all the stars in the sky
and the fishes in the sea...
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Home Fancification
Improvement #1:
For Christmas, my mom gave Greg and I a big check and said Buy yourself something pretty. Well, no. Actually she told us it was for a new living room rug. Four months later and we've finally committed to one. And look! It is pretty.
I want to find burgundy and deep red throw pillows for our couches. I might even try to sew a few of them myself.
Improvement #2:
When we moved into our house in October 2005, we had to immediately replace the leaking kitchen faucet so we chose and painfully installed this $90 Kohler model.
About a year and 2 months later, two months after the warranty expired (naturally), the handle broke off. It was still functional so we kept using it until recently when it started leaking as well. Is it unreasonable to expect a kitchen faucet to last longer than 2 years? Apparently Kohler thinks so.
Last week-end we bought a new one. A $230 Delta! And went through the contorting and swearing necessary when attempting home DIY projects. Or rather, Greg did. I was his assistant.
And taa-daaaa! It's so purty - actually a little too purty for our ugly counters but that will have to wait a bit longer for an update. This one has a much higher faucet to fit the big pans in our sink. There's a sprayer and a below-the-sink soap dispenser.
If this one poops out after 2 years, I may just kill someone...
Improvement #3:
I've heard a few horror stories lately about houses being ruined due to water leaks. So many, in fact, that I've become completely paranoid about it. Today Greg and I bought new hoses for our washing machine and toilets. They have a special valve in them that will cut off the water supply if there is a leak anywhere in the downstream process. If we ever had a burst pipe or whatever, these valves would minimize the potential water damage. We're installing them tomorrow.
Improvement #4:
We spent a small fortune at Home Depot this week-end on deck supplies. Since we moved in, we've done absolutely no maintenance on our huge, beautiful deck in the backyard. It was high time we got off our butts and did something about it.
This process is going to be long and tedious. First we strip the old stain, then treat for mildew, then wash and neutralize the chemicals. The next day, we paint with a new stain and sealant. Sounds like fun, right!
The week-end was supposed to be dedicated to that process, but with impending threats of thunderstorms that have yet to appear (man, these meteorologists do enjoy their 15 minutes of fame...), we decided to hold off. All I can say is that it had better rain tonight or tomorrow...
For Christmas, my mom gave Greg and I a big check and said Buy yourself something pretty. Well, no. Actually she told us it was for a new living room rug. Four months later and we've finally committed to one. And look! It is pretty.
I want to find burgundy and deep red throw pillows for our couches. I might even try to sew a few of them myself.
Improvement #2:
When we moved into our house in October 2005, we had to immediately replace the leaking kitchen faucet so we chose and painfully installed this $90 Kohler model.
About a year and 2 months later, two months after the warranty expired (naturally), the handle broke off. It was still functional so we kept using it until recently when it started leaking as well. Is it unreasonable to expect a kitchen faucet to last longer than 2 years? Apparently Kohler thinks so.
Last week-end we bought a new one. A $230 Delta! And went through the contorting and swearing necessary when attempting home DIY projects. Or rather, Greg did. I was his assistant.
And taa-daaaa! It's so purty - actually a little too purty for our ugly counters but that will have to wait a bit longer for an update. This one has a much higher faucet to fit the big pans in our sink. There's a sprayer and a below-the-sink soap dispenser.
If this one poops out after 2 years, I may just kill someone...Improvement #3:
I've heard a few horror stories lately about houses being ruined due to water leaks. So many, in fact, that I've become completely paranoid about it. Today Greg and I bought new hoses for our washing machine and toilets. They have a special valve in them that will cut off the water supply if there is a leak anywhere in the downstream process. If we ever had a burst pipe or whatever, these valves would minimize the potential water damage. We're installing them tomorrow.
Improvement #4:
We spent a small fortune at Home Depot this week-end on deck supplies. Since we moved in, we've done absolutely no maintenance on our huge, beautiful deck in the backyard. It was high time we got off our butts and did something about it.
This process is going to be long and tedious. First we strip the old stain, then treat for mildew, then wash and neutralize the chemicals. The next day, we paint with a new stain and sealant. Sounds like fun, right!
The week-end was supposed to be dedicated to that process, but with impending threats of thunderstorms that have yet to appear (man, these meteorologists do enjoy their 15 minutes of fame...), we decided to hold off. All I can say is that it had better rain tonight or tomorrow...
Six Word Story
Atop underwear thrown, she reigns supreme.This is pretty typical 'round these parts. Greg and I can't do laundry at our house without the kitties interrupting our work, wallowing in our clothing, contaminating every surface with little, orange hairs. They see the laundry basket as their own personal playground. Lani will purr and purr while she rolls and stretches and buries herself in the mounds of fresh, clean clothes. If we shed a jacket or sweater and throw it across the couch, she makes a B-line, perches herself on top and has a nice, little nap. Usually we can't bring ourselves to disturb her slumber because we know it makes her so happy. So we just have to wait until she wakes up and is distracted enough to leave her haven unattended before we snatch it up, shake it out and hide it away.
Gomez, on the other hand, prefers the dirty clothes because he is a filthy, filthy beast. :)
The closest I've seen him to reaching nirvana is when he finds my sweaty post-run work-out clothes on the bathroom floor, collapses on them, and proceeds to rub the stink all over his body. I know this is just his instinct to make himself as gross as possible, but it simultaneously entertains and repulses Greg and I when we stumble upon him in the throes of ecstasy. One side of me wants to snatch the offending garment away in horror, and the other side feels compelled to silently tiptoe out of the room and leave him to his business. It feels like a distinctly private moment, if you know what I mean. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.
Ok, I'll say no more.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
I Guess We're Just at That Age...
Seems like I'm posting about a lot of new babies these days. While it does nothing to ease my slow-simmering fever, this post isn't about me and my ticking time bomb...
Today we received much-anticipated news from Greg's friends back in England, Shirley and Stuart. On April 22nd - same b-day as my sister - Shirley gave birth to their first son Elliot Jude (7 lbs, 15 oz)! Dad reports that Elliot is "an absolute stunner" and that Mum and baby are doing well and resting at home.
It's been an extremely rough ride for these two in the last couple of years, filled with elation and heart-break. We'd received a few cryptic emails implying that good news was on the way and have been holding our breath on this end, hoping to hear exactly this. We couldn't be happier for the new family.
Congrats, guys, and best of luck to all three of you!
Today we received much-anticipated news from Greg's friends back in England, Shirley and Stuart. On April 22nd - same b-day as my sister - Shirley gave birth to their first son Elliot Jude (7 lbs, 15 oz)! Dad reports that Elliot is "an absolute stunner" and that Mum and baby are doing well and resting at home.
It's been an extremely rough ride for these two in the last couple of years, filled with elation and heart-break. We'd received a few cryptic emails implying that good news was on the way and have been holding our breath on this end, hoping to hear exactly this. We couldn't be happier for the new family.
Congrats, guys, and best of luck to all three of you!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
To Further Elaborate on the Post Below...
Z Tejas drinks last night:
- watermelon margarita = fabulous
- apple margarita = nothing to write home about
- fusion margarita = flavor-distinction mechanism inebriated; unqualified to pass judgment
- mango margarita = highly enjoyable
- peach margarita = wait, did I taste-test that one?
- Grad school leads to low-grade alcoholism. Further research suggested.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
May I Just Say...
...the watermelon margaritas at Z Tejas are A.W.E.S.O.M.E.
Celebrated Mel's 29th b-day tonight. Mel, I'm apologizing to you right now for the few posts below...
LOVE YOU!
your big sis L
Celebrated Mel's 29th b-day tonight. Mel, I'm apologizing to you right now for the few posts below...
LOVE YOU!
your big sis L
Onward and Upward
Ok, now that I'm calm, cool and collected, I can elaborate on the Dreaded Committee Meeting of last week.
(Warning: if you're not a science geek or grad student, you may just want to stop reading right now...)
Basically, my committee is awesome. Its made up of my boss and 4 other profs - 2 biochemists, 1 immunologist, and 1 biomedical engineer. I have a good rapport with the biochemists; it was the other two that had me worried. I haven't had much interaction with either of them previously - I collaborated with a student in the engineer's group but those experiments didn't yield good results - and I didn't know how mean they would be to me. (I've heard horror stories, but admittedly they've been from students in other departments. Politics in my department don't seem to be as cut-throat as in some others. Thank goodness!) Plus, they were the two with the most knowledge about the kind of work I do so I was really paranoid about their reactions to my research so far.
But as it turns out, and as I stated earlier, they were awesome. They offered a lot of great insights and suggestions - so much so that I really wish I had set up this meeting a long time ago, but I can't do anything about that now so oh well. Onward and upward, right.
The upshot is basically that the last, major experiment I was proposing is being tossed out the window and replaced by other, more manageable experiments (good) that will require me to learn new methodologies (a bit intimidating but good experience) and also have a better chance of yielding positive results (very good).
And my old experiments aren't being completely discarded. Instead, we're trying to convince a potential collaborator at the medical school, who has much more experience dealing with my virus, to possibly take those over (or at the least be willing to hold my hand through the process). So far we've been shooting emails back and forth, but we'll try to teleconference with him tomorrow about possibilities. As always the major hurdle is money, which unfortunately has all but dried up on our end. I'm keeping my fingers crossed because these experiments would definitely be the icing on the cake for my dissertation.
Anyway, I'm doing lots of reading on the new techniques I'll need to employ, tracking down resources, finding people who will allow me to pick their brains, all that fun stuff that researchers do before they dive head first into new experiments. For the next few months, I will be holed up in lab and don't plan on seeing much of my husband, but hopefully all this hard work will end in a PhD.
Wish me luck. And if you happen to have special skills in transfecting mammalian cells, membrane protein purification, fast protein liquid chromatography, Maldi-TOF/TOF mass spectrometry, or fluorescence activated cell sorting, I'd like to talk to you! :)
(Warning: if you're not a science geek or grad student, you may just want to stop reading right now...)
Basically, my committee is awesome. Its made up of my boss and 4 other profs - 2 biochemists, 1 immunologist, and 1 biomedical engineer. I have a good rapport with the biochemists; it was the other two that had me worried. I haven't had much interaction with either of them previously - I collaborated with a student in the engineer's group but those experiments didn't yield good results - and I didn't know how mean they would be to me. (I've heard horror stories, but admittedly they've been from students in other departments. Politics in my department don't seem to be as cut-throat as in some others. Thank goodness!) Plus, they were the two with the most knowledge about the kind of work I do so I was really paranoid about their reactions to my research so far.
But as it turns out, and as I stated earlier, they were awesome. They offered a lot of great insights and suggestions - so much so that I really wish I had set up this meeting a long time ago, but I can't do anything about that now so oh well. Onward and upward, right.
The upshot is basically that the last, major experiment I was proposing is being tossed out the window and replaced by other, more manageable experiments (good) that will require me to learn new methodologies (a bit intimidating but good experience) and also have a better chance of yielding positive results (very good).
And my old experiments aren't being completely discarded. Instead, we're trying to convince a potential collaborator at the medical school, who has much more experience dealing with my virus, to possibly take those over (or at the least be willing to hold my hand through the process). So far we've been shooting emails back and forth, but we'll try to teleconference with him tomorrow about possibilities. As always the major hurdle is money, which unfortunately has all but dried up on our end. I'm keeping my fingers crossed because these experiments would definitely be the icing on the cake for my dissertation.
Anyway, I'm doing lots of reading on the new techniques I'll need to employ, tracking down resources, finding people who will allow me to pick their brains, all that fun stuff that researchers do before they dive head first into new experiments. For the next few months, I will be holed up in lab and don't plan on seeing much of my husband, but hopefully all this hard work will end in a PhD.
Wish me luck. And if you happen to have special skills in transfecting mammalian cells, membrane protein purification, fast protein liquid chromatography, Maldi-TOF/TOF mass spectrometry, or fluorescence activated cell sorting, I'd like to talk to you! :)
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Major Melody Melt-Down, Number 1.5
7:37 a.m. : My sister called me this morning in absolute hysterics.
When I answered the phone, she was in the throes of a full-on, blood-curdling, frantic SCREAM. I cannot even describe adequately what I heard. I thought she was being murdered! I seriously had a flash of her fighting off some crazed, knife-wielding homicidal maniac while I had to sit there powerless, witnessing this horrific, tragic scene from my cell phone.
I was on the other end, panicking and yelling, "Mel?!? Mel?!? MEL?!?"
Just as I was about to yell for Greg to call 9-1-1, the scream broke into sobs.
Turns out she was just on her way to a testing facility to take the last exam that will complete her teaching certification. She had 23 minutes to make it there in time. And she was lost.
And now I. Was. PISSED.
I am a hard-wired worrier, and you do not do crap like that to worriers!
I used to have nightmares as a kid of people breaking into our house and murdering my entire family while I slept. I was an 11-year-old kid diagnosed with spastic colitis, an affliction usually reserved for 50-year-old stressed-out men with ulcers and high blood pressure. My bowels would twist into knots and cause an excruciating pain in my side. The mere smell or even thought of food would make me vomit. I couldn't sleep so I would just lie in my bed contorted, squeezing my side until my hands cramped. It was awful.
Over the years I've mostly outgrown it, but even now I'm still a worry-wart. I have daymares of things happening to Greg. I hear about car wrecks on the highway and send a silent prayer out to the cosmos that it didn't involve my husband. I hear about crazy people doing crazy things, and then scenarios of my loved ones being hurt by these crazy people dance in my head temporarily. Its completely irrational - I realize this - but I just can't help it.
But then to answer the phone this morning to THAT when absolutely NOTHING was wrong with Melody, except the fact that she was lost... I could have killed her.
But I remained calm though because, quite frankly, one of us had to. Greg and I rushed up to open mapquest.com to find out where she had gone wrong and direct her back. We were working it out, making progress. But Mel was still losing. her. shite. on the phone with me. Finally after one hysterical sob too many, I'd had it. In my meanest, harshest, loudest voice ever, I screamed at her into the phone. "THAT'S IT, MELODY! YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN AND FUCKINGPULLYOURSELF TOGETHER!"
I don't know if my tone or my words finally shocked her back to reality, but that seemed to do the trick. With a few gasps of air, she finally stifled her sobs, cleared her throat and adopted a more cool-headed tone. We eventually got her to the testing center with 3 minutes to spare. She got to take the test. All is right with the world again.
But man... I hate busting out my angry voice and dropping f-bombs. Especially at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. That's just not right.
When I answered the phone, she was in the throes of a full-on, blood-curdling, frantic SCREAM. I cannot even describe adequately what I heard. I thought she was being murdered! I seriously had a flash of her fighting off some crazed, knife-wielding homicidal maniac while I had to sit there powerless, witnessing this horrific, tragic scene from my cell phone.
I was on the other end, panicking and yelling, "Mel?!? Mel?!? MEL?!?"
Just as I was about to yell for Greg to call 9-1-1, the scream broke into sobs.
Turns out she was just on her way to a testing facility to take the last exam that will complete her teaching certification. She had 23 minutes to make it there in time. And she was lost.
And now I. Was. PISSED.
I am a hard-wired worrier, and you do not do crap like that to worriers!
I used to have nightmares as a kid of people breaking into our house and murdering my entire family while I slept. I was an 11-year-old kid diagnosed with spastic colitis, an affliction usually reserved for 50-year-old stressed-out men with ulcers and high blood pressure. My bowels would twist into knots and cause an excruciating pain in my side. The mere smell or even thought of food would make me vomit. I couldn't sleep so I would just lie in my bed contorted, squeezing my side until my hands cramped. It was awful.
Over the years I've mostly outgrown it, but even now I'm still a worry-wart. I have daymares of things happening to Greg. I hear about car wrecks on the highway and send a silent prayer out to the cosmos that it didn't involve my husband. I hear about crazy people doing crazy things, and then scenarios of my loved ones being hurt by these crazy people dance in my head temporarily. Its completely irrational - I realize this - but I just can't help it.
But then to answer the phone this morning to THAT when absolutely NOTHING was wrong with Melody, except the fact that she was lost... I could have killed her.
But I remained calm though because, quite frankly, one of us had to. Greg and I rushed up to open mapquest.com to find out where she had gone wrong and direct her back. We were working it out, making progress. But Mel was still losing. her. shite. on the phone with me. Finally after one hysterical sob too many, I'd had it. In my meanest, harshest, loudest voice ever, I screamed at her into the phone. "THAT'S IT, MELODY! YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN AND FUCKINGPULLYOURSELF TOGETHER!"
I don't know if my tone or my words finally shocked her back to reality, but that seemed to do the trick. With a few gasps of air, she finally stifled her sobs, cleared her throat and adopted a more cool-headed tone. We eventually got her to the testing center with 3 minutes to spare. She got to take the test. All is right with the world again.
But man... I hate busting out my angry voice and dropping f-bombs. Especially at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. That's just not right.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!
That's the sound of the screaming inside my head. A relentless, high-pitched, piercing shriek of horror...
These last weeks have been filled with sleeplessness, chest pains and panic attacks.
When I start feeling woozy, I force myself to stop and take a few deep breaths. On the commute home I read papers and listen to Enya to keep my head from exploding, and I'm only semi-embarrassed to admit that so just shut up! And I'm trying to pretend my bowels are in fine working order. Mind over matter, right...
But today - at 4 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. - it will be all over. Thank God!
Inhale. Exhale.
Ok, wish me luck.
These last weeks have been filled with sleeplessness, chest pains and panic attacks.
When I start feeling woozy, I force myself to stop and take a few deep breaths. On the commute home I read papers and listen to Enya to keep my head from exploding, and I'm only semi-embarrassed to admit that so just shut up! And I'm trying to pretend my bowels are in fine working order. Mind over matter, right...
But today - at 4 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. - it will be all over. Thank God!
Inhale. Exhale.
Ok, wish me luck.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Further Proof That My Husband Totally Rocks My Socks
Since its looking less and less likely that we'll make it to Poland this summer - unless, of course, my committee tells me I should finish with a Master's instead of a PhD, in which case, I'm assuming I'll get out of here sooner rather than later - we won't get a summer vacation this year. Boo. :(
BUT that doesn't mean we can't sneak away for a week-end instead.
Our second year wedding anniversary is on April 29th. Two years!? My, how time flies... Anyway being the superstar that he is, Greg has booked us two nights at a bed & breakfast in Fredericksburg, TX. We'll be staying in the Perdenales Room at Cotton Gin Village. Its a super cute and rustic (well, rustic-looking anyway) cabin set in a mock 19th century village. But with A/C, satellite TV, and a jacuzzi tub, I seriously doubt there'll be much "roughing it". This area is beautiful. We might go on hikes or check out local vineyards or just wander through town and all the antique shops. I can't wait.
Babe, you're awesome. I don't know what I did in a former life to deserve you, but it must have been pretty impressive. I love you.
BUT that doesn't mean we can't sneak away for a week-end instead.
Our second year wedding anniversary is on April 29th. Two years!? My, how time flies... Anyway being the superstar that he is, Greg has booked us two nights at a bed & breakfast in Fredericksburg, TX. We'll be staying in the Perdenales Room at Cotton Gin Village. Its a super cute and rustic (well, rustic-looking anyway) cabin set in a mock 19th century village. But with A/C, satellite TV, and a jacuzzi tub, I seriously doubt there'll be much "roughing it". This area is beautiful. We might go on hikes or check out local vineyards or just wander through town and all the antique shops. I can't wait.
Babe, you're awesome. I don't know what I did in a former life to deserve you, but it must have been pretty impressive. I love you.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Cry Baby
Yesterday afternoon we beat one of the best soccer teams in our division! This team had 3 of the top scorers in our league. Their guys were all super fit and could run circles around us. Their ball control made us look like a bunch toddlers with severely under-developed motor skills. I mean, they were tough. So how did we win?
By default.
2:20 p.m. came and went and not enough players showed to form their team. So instead we took advantage of the empty field and scrimmaged for 30 minutes. Scrimmage, by the way, apparently equates to "No holds barred". Playing meant taking my life into my own hands and praying that I made it out alive. It was like Thunderdome out there, a fight to the death!
Or maybe I'm just over-dramatizing a bit because that was the first time in a LONG time that I've actually cried, out loud and everything, from physical pain. It was ugly. And I am so embarrassed about my sad little display of sissy-ness.
Here's how it went down. They had such disproportionate possession of the ball that much of the game was played out near our goal. They were even so confident that the goalie, the cocky shit, had come out of the box and over into our field to assist in the assault. He took possession of the ball, and just as our players were about to close in on him, he made a last ditch effort to score by rocketing and I do mean r-o-c-k-e-t-ing a shot off at the goal. Luckily my face was in the way.
I had a split second to register the fact that this lethal missile was speeding toward my head before some animalistic instinct of self-preservation made me quickly turn so that the full force of the brick wall that ran me over hit my right ear and neck instead of my nose and eye. For a second the impact just reverberated through my brain and skull. There go differential equations. I stood there stunned before the pain kicked in, but I was still lucid enough to hear Greg yell at the guy before he came running out to get me. Then I don't know what happened. As soon as Greg came to put his arm around me, the tears just started flowing. I even let out a few pathetic whimpers as he walked me back to the bench. It was like a small but overflowing floodgate.
I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't all due to the physical pounding I took on the field. I think some of it may be the emotional pounding I've been dealing with lately, namely graduating and getting out of grad school. Whatever it was, it only served to piss me off. After I dried my tears and iced my ear, I was all the more eager to get out there and risk life and limb once again.
Incidentally if this had been a real game with a ref, that would have been a foul thanks to the "macho" rule. I'm so not kidding about this. The macho rule is "a foul in coed play where a player is determined to be playing too aggressively for the given game situation", i.e. much better players trying to prove their manliness by launching missiles at girls' heads. Wanker!
(Is it just me or does it sound like I get the snot beaten out of me on a fairly regular basis? I present to you Exhibit A, B, and C.)
By the way, I think the last time I cried out loud from physical pain was when I slid 150 ft down a mountain in an uncontrolled tailspin and landed in sharp, jagged rocks seven years ago. That was fun. I'll have to share the story some time for posterity if nothing else...
By default.
2:20 p.m. came and went and not enough players showed to form their team. So instead we took advantage of the empty field and scrimmaged for 30 minutes. Scrimmage, by the way, apparently equates to "No holds barred". Playing meant taking my life into my own hands and praying that I made it out alive. It was like Thunderdome out there, a fight to the death!
Or maybe I'm just over-dramatizing a bit because that was the first time in a LONG time that I've actually cried, out loud and everything, from physical pain. It was ugly. And I am so embarrassed about my sad little display of sissy-ness.
Here's how it went down. They had such disproportionate possession of the ball that much of the game was played out near our goal. They were even so confident that the goalie, the cocky shit, had come out of the box and over into our field to assist in the assault. He took possession of the ball, and just as our players were about to close in on him, he made a last ditch effort to score by rocketing and I do mean r-o-c-k-e-t-ing a shot off at the goal. Luckily my face was in the way.
I had a split second to register the fact that this lethal missile was speeding toward my head before some animalistic instinct of self-preservation made me quickly turn so that the full force of the brick wall that ran me over hit my right ear and neck instead of my nose and eye. For a second the impact just reverberated through my brain and skull. There go differential equations. I stood there stunned before the pain kicked in, but I was still lucid enough to hear Greg yell at the guy before he came running out to get me. Then I don't know what happened. As soon as Greg came to put his arm around me, the tears just started flowing. I even let out a few pathetic whimpers as he walked me back to the bench. It was like a small but overflowing floodgate.
I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't all due to the physical pounding I took on the field. I think some of it may be the emotional pounding I've been dealing with lately, namely graduating and getting out of grad school. Whatever it was, it only served to piss me off. After I dried my tears and iced my ear, I was all the more eager to get out there and risk life and limb once again.
Incidentally if this had been a real game with a ref, that would have been a foul thanks to the "macho" rule. I'm so not kidding about this. The macho rule is "a foul in coed play where a player is determined to be playing too aggressively for the given game situation", i.e. much better players trying to prove their manliness by launching missiles at girls' heads. Wanker!
(Is it just me or does it sound like I get the snot beaten out of me on a fairly regular basis? I present to you Exhibit A, B, and C.)
By the way, I think the last time I cried out loud from physical pain was when I slid 150 ft down a mountain in an uncontrolled tailspin and landed in sharp, jagged rocks seven years ago. That was fun. I'll have to share the story some time for posterity if nothing else...
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Dawning of a New Era
Yes, yes. I'm working on my presentation and reviewing all things immunology, vaccinology, and all that fun stuff. But I'm also inspired...
...to teach our kitties to use the toilet like civilized beings!
Although to be quite honest,
I've done the research. I'm using a mix of advice from here, here and here. I've bought aluminum pans and flushable litter. And I can be very, very patient when necessary.
Training starts today! Wish me luck.
...to teach our kitties to use the toilet like civilized beings!
Although to be quite honest,this picture doesn't look all that civilized.
But everybody poos!
So don't laugh!
I'm sick of stepping on little bits of litter all over the house. My tootsies are litter magnets! And I can't get it off unless I wipe with my hands or find a rug. It's messy. It's stinky. It grosses me out. And let's be honest, its a total pain in my derrière to scoop twice a day. (And, yes, scooping twice a day is absolutely necessary. My kitties are demanding prima donna princesses that way - I blame Greg, he's a neat-freak too. But at least he's potty trained.)But everybody poos!
So don't laugh!
I've done the research. I'm using a mix of advice from here, here and here. I've bought aluminum pans and flushable litter. And I can be very, very patient when necessary.
Training starts today! Wish me luck.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Therapy in Snippets
I just emailed Greg my concerns about the impending doom that is my committee meeting.
from: Larisa
to: Greg
Committee meeting.
Thursday
3 p.m.
Heart palpitations.
Can't breath.
FUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!
I don't want a phd!
13 minutes later, his reply:
from: Greg
to: Larisa
I think I'm already breaking out in hives... Oh God.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six...
from: Larisa
to: Greg
Committee meeting.
Thursday
3 p.m.
Heart palpitations.
Can't breath.
FUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!
I don't want a phd!
13 minutes later, his reply:
from: Greg
to: Larisa
Committee meeting. GOOD
Thursday BEFORE THE WEEKEND
3 p.m. MEANS A LIE-IN
Heart palpitations. TAKE ASPIRIN
Can't breath. COUNT TO 10
FUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK! NO COMMENT
I don't want a phd! YES YOU DO!
Thursday
3 p.m. MEANS A LIE-IN
Heart palpitations. TAKE ASPIRIN
Can't breath. COUNT TO 10
FUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK
I don't want a phd! YES YOU DO!
LOVE YOU SUPERSTAR!!!
PS - We are not going out this weekend with Shawn
I think I'm already breaking out in hives... Oh God.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six...
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Through Alcoholism and Sobriety...
Greg and I are obsessed with a British television show called Cold Feet. We've seen seasons 1 through 3 via Netflix and the library, but seasons 4 & 5 aren't available to buy or rent anywhere here in the U.S. One day last week Greg was surfing Amazon and found the DVD set containing ALL five seasons for less than $50! We ordered it immediately. Its was being shipped from Britain so we weren't expecting it for weeks.
Well, it came in today!
I have so much work to do, but we couldn't help ourselves. We spent about three hours watching a whole DVD from season 4 this afternoon. Its the season where one of the main characters becomes addicted to alcohol. She's boozing it up with strangers and putting herself into all sorts of dangerous situations. But the breaking point finally comes when she gets in the car and has an accident with her little son in the back seat. Later in that same show comes the heart-breaking scene where she accidentally bumps into her husband outside a shrink's office (one that he's been seeing too). And through lots of crying and tears, she admits to him that she has a problem and needs his help.
Greg reached over to hold my hand (because he gets the warm & fuzzies when he watches this show), and I turned to him and said If I ever became an alcoholic, would you help me?
To which he replies Of course, I would. Then he turns to me with an equally earnest look on his face and says If I'm ever binge-drinking, don't stop me.
Ugh.
Well, it came in today!
I have so much work to do, but we couldn't help ourselves. We spent about three hours watching a whole DVD from season 4 this afternoon. Its the season where one of the main characters becomes addicted to alcohol. She's boozing it up with strangers and putting herself into all sorts of dangerous situations. But the breaking point finally comes when she gets in the car and has an accident with her little son in the back seat. Later in that same show comes the heart-breaking scene where she accidentally bumps into her husband outside a shrink's office (one that he's been seeing too). And through lots of crying and tears, she admits to him that she has a problem and needs his help.
Greg reached over to hold my hand (because he gets the warm & fuzzies when he watches this show), and I turned to him and said If I ever became an alcoholic, would you help me?
To which he replies Of course, I would. Then he turns to me with an equally earnest look on his face and says If I'm ever binge-drinking, don't stop me.
Ugh.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Dear Mr. Taxman
My uncle Rodney, the consummate joker, is in the habit of sending out mass emails to friends and family members on a fairly regular basis. Most of them are harmless, funny, little tidbits about rednecks (of which there are many in my West TX family tree), marital strife, or some variation of sexual deviance. (To elaborate on that last one, I actually can't remember a time when my innocent, still-forming mind was not bombarded with vivid imagery from sex jokes told by adult family members, which make them all the more inappropriate and icky. This above all else, I believe ultimately rendered me with very indelicate sensibilities. Although I like to pretend from time to time that this is not the case.)
Many, many of these emails involve, of course, critiques of every branch of governmental function. And since that dreaded tax deadline is fast approaching, I thought I'd share this latest installment:
Dear Internal Revenue Service,
Enclosed you will find my 2007 tax return showing that I owe $3,407.00 in taxes. Please note the attached article from USA Today dated 12 November, wherein you will see the Pentagon (Department of Defense) is paying $171.50 per hammer and NASA has paid $600.00 per toilet seat.
I am enclosing four (4) toilet seats, valued at $2,400, and six (6) hammers, valued at $1,029, which I secured at Home Depot, bringing my total remittance to $3,429.00. Please apply the overpayment of $22.00 to the Presidential Election Fund, as noted on my return. You can do this inexpensively by sending them one (1) 1.5" Phillips head screw (see aforementioned article detailing how H.U.D. pays $22.00 each for 1.5" Phillips head screws). One screw is enclosed for your convenience.
It has been a pleasure to pay my tax bill this year, and I look forward to paying it again next year.
Sincerely,
Satisfied Tax Payer
Many, many of these emails involve, of course, critiques of every branch of governmental function. And since that dreaded tax deadline is fast approaching, I thought I'd share this latest installment:
Dear Internal Revenue Service,
Enclosed you will find my 2007 tax return showing that I owe $3,407.00 in taxes. Please note the attached article from USA Today dated 12 November, wherein you will see the Pentagon (Department of Defense) is paying $171.50 per hammer and NASA has paid $600.00 per toilet seat.
I am enclosing four (4) toilet seats, valued at $2,400, and six (6) hammers, valued at $1,029, which I secured at Home Depot, bringing my total remittance to $3,429.00. Please apply the overpayment of $22.00 to the Presidential Election Fund, as noted on my return. You can do this inexpensively by sending them one (1) 1.5" Phillips head screw (see aforementioned article detailing how H.U.D. pays $22.00 each for 1.5" Phillips head screws). One screw is enclosed for your convenience.
It has been a pleasure to pay my tax bill this year, and I look forward to paying it again next year.
Sincerely,
Satisfied Tax Payer
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Baby Breaks
If you have the means, I highly suggest taking periodic breaks in your work week for 20- to 40-minute cuddle sessions with yummy, irresistible, little infants. Although this activity has been documented to illicit, on occasion, raging cases of baby fever, the therapeutic benefits far outweigh the risks.
It just so happens that the cutest infant within my immediate vicinity is one, Ms. Elizabeth Grace Hall, daughter of Brad and Alisha Hall. Alisha brings Ms. Lizzy into the office 3 days a week because her bosses are just that awesome (and Alisha's ability to keep their collective shit together affords her great understanding and flexibility from these bosses).
As soon as I learned Ms. Lizzy was on the premises, I scheduled an impromptu 30-minute session. Our meeting consisted of cradling, rocking, and rhythmic patting of the bottom. (That patting of the bottom is her 'off' switch, by the way. As soon as I started, she was rendered incapacitated. Her eyes started rolling into the back of her skull, and she was gone.) Therapy also included an intensive lesson in restraint. I can't be the only one tempted to gum baby fingers, toes, and noses. They were put there to torment me with their cuteness and edibility.
The only repercussions from our meeting is a sore and cramping right bicep and shoulder. As yet I am not skilled enough to rotate yummy, irresistible infants from one arm to the other. Therefore, during our next session on Friday, I will use further cradling, rocking and patting of the bottom to exercise the opposite arm.
My phone camera picture of yummy, irresistible, little Lizzy wasn't saved so you'll just have to take my word for it that she is, in fact, yummy and irresistible and very little.
It just so happens that the cutest infant within my immediate vicinity is one, Ms. Elizabeth Grace Hall, daughter of Brad and Alisha Hall. Alisha brings Ms. Lizzy into the office 3 days a week because her bosses are just that awesome (and Alisha's ability to keep their collective shit together affords her great understanding and flexibility from these bosses).
As soon as I learned Ms. Lizzy was on the premises, I scheduled an impromptu 30-minute session. Our meeting consisted of cradling, rocking, and rhythmic patting of the bottom. (That patting of the bottom is her 'off' switch, by the way. As soon as I started, she was rendered incapacitated. Her eyes started rolling into the back of her skull, and she was gone.) Therapy also included an intensive lesson in restraint. I can't be the only one tempted to gum baby fingers, toes, and noses. They were put there to torment me with their cuteness and edibility.
The only repercussions from our meeting is a sore and cramping right bicep and shoulder. As yet I am not skilled enough to rotate yummy, irresistible infants from one arm to the other. Therefore, during our next session on Friday, I will use further cradling, rocking and patting of the bottom to exercise the opposite arm.
My phone camera picture of yummy, irresistible, little Lizzy wasn't saved so you'll just have to take my word for it that she is, in fact, yummy and irresistible and very little.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Soccer Synopsis
- 1-9 thrashing last night. We got our bottoms spanked fair and square.
- Lance makes the most dramatic goals (and collisions) of all time. Last night it was a flying head-butt into the net, which took everyone by surprise, including, thankfully, their keeper or else it would have been a complete shut-out.
- The team member threatening to quit was a no-show so I'm guessing she really is quitting. I was going to try to talk her out of it but decided against it.
I just want to play the game and escape the crushing, suffocating stresses of work for a while. That is the whole point of these extra-curricular team sports, is it not?
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