The Minutiae of Life as a Militant Squirrel

Lots of stuff going on in my life this year . . . work life and personal life and health life. Rather than attempt any sort of organized discussion, I shall do what I do best and ramble endlessly instead about whatever comes into my head.

I finally gave in and bought a new car. It's the Kia Soul, and it's the CUTEST THING EVER! The color is Molten, which is bright red, and his name is Marshall. I was sad to say goodbye to Sherman, who has served me well and faithfully these many long years, but I got a good trade-in price for him and I'm sure he's going to enjoy a graceful retirement. It took me months of research to settle on the Soul, and for a while there it was looking like a tossup between it and the Scion xD, but the Soul has twice as much cargo space for the money and that's really what I was interested in. On my first tank of gas, I got thirty miles to the gallon, which is already better than the EPA estimate for that trim ( I went with the bigger engine ), and the way I drive, I expect even better mileage now that the breaking-in period is mostly over. And I just love driving it!

The whole car-shopping experience was immensely stressful, though. And when it finally came down to the purchase? Ugh, I got so sick of getting yanked around by weaselly salesmen! Even sitting there ready to sign paperwork, they were STILL playing games with dollars and cents. I'd finally had it and just snapped, "That's it-- I'm walking, watch me walk!" Happily, that ended the nonsense over sales figures, but I still had to sit there for FOUR FUCKING HOURS for the goddamn paperwork. JFC.

Still. For the price I made them swallow, I guess the hassle was ultimately worth it.

The weekend before buying the new car, Stoli got really sick suddenly and spent four days in the ICU with IVs in both front legs. Three thousand dollars later, and the working diagnosis ended up being "a perfect storm" of infections: anaplasmosis, Lyme disease, and pylonephritis. Her immune system probably could've fought off any one of those infections alone, but not all three at once . . . and then the ER vet that I took her to compounded the issue by feeding her chicken, despite the fact that I clearly marked her allergies on her intake sheet. Assholes. I'm never taking a dog to that ER again, I don't care how close to home it is. She almost died! Fortunately, she's back to her normal, lovably crazy self now, though she's still on antibiotics and has to undergo some more blood tests in a month. I knew she was feeling better when she clawed the upholstery on the new car and got into the garbage in the kitchen.

Disappointed in my TV tennis boyfriend, Novak Djokovic, this year. His performance has not been up to the level I've come to expect from him, and the US Open in particular was a terrible letdown. There was some great stuff, and a lot of potential, but man . . . that fourth set? Seriously, dude, if you were just gonna phone it in like that, you should've retired from the match so I could watch something else. Oh, well, I suppose there's always next year. My boy is sleeping on the couch 'til he pulls it together, though . . . I'm just sayin'.

Went to see a double feature of Insidious & Insidious: Chapter 2 with lucifrix last week. Lots of fun jump-scares, and I liked the way the sequel tied in to certain plot points in the original movie. There wasn't too much "huh?" going on for me, which was a refreshing change. Not impressed with Rose Byrne's acting, though admittedly she didn't have much to work with.

Hopefully, this weekend we're off to the drive-in to catch some cool stuff.

Well, that looks like enough for now, especially since the work day is wrapping up. Sigh. At least it's finally Thursday, which means tomorrow is-- sing with with me-- FINALLY FRIDAY!!!!!

Friday afternoon was the annual Staff Summer Party, which is usually an exercise in both futility and boredom, but this year was actually really fun! Someone came up with the idea to hold it at Dave & Buster's, and it turned out to be the the BEST THING EVER.

I hadn't been to Dave & Buster's since they first opened in Philadelphia, more than fifteen years ago, and the group of us who went were so confused and overwhelmed just by walking in the door that we ended up fleeing without even doing anything. It was a lot more fun to be there on a weekday afternoon, when it was less crowded and much less crazy. I'm actually looking forward to a return trip!

The weekend was mostly laundry, cleaning, and napping. And marathoning American Ninja Warrior, which is a total guilty-pleasure show . . . and yet, I still watch it.

No, I still haven't caught up on my other shows. Enough with the judging, already.

Sunday evening, my dad took me out for my belated birthday dinner. It was nice to get all gussied up for a change-- I wore my bridesmaid's dress from Kristin's wedding, and it looked perfectly nice, which was awesome, and had been one of the selling points of buying it in the first place. The food was fabulous, and I have leftovers for lunch, which will be excellent. I got to bed at, for me, a decent hour, and although I didn't sleep well because I totally need a new mattress, I was counting it a good weekend.

Then the alarm went off at five this morning, and when I stretched out, my right foot hit a cold, wet spot in the bedding.

I shot upright and shrieked, "STOLI!!!! What did you DO?!?!?!?!"

Ah, yes, the joys of a dog sleeping in your bed with you . . . a dog on steroid medication. Side effect: incontinence.

Son of a bitch.

I was thisclose to making a rug out of her.

So I had just enough time to strip the bed and stuff all the bedding into the washer before I left; Dad will get it dried for me, which is definitely one of the good things about having him there.

At least it didn't soak through to the electric heating pad or to the mattress itself . . . seems like the blankets and sheets soaked up everything. Small favors, I guess.

And, since I got to work, I have been able to happily watch Novak Djokovic wallop Juan Carlos Ferrero in the first round of Wimbledon. So the day is looking up, I suppose.

Cleaning out my DVR this weekend led to watching:

Beastly, a predictable retelling of Beauty and the Beast. I dunno, I'd rather go reread Robin McKinley's Beauty. Oh, I'll grant you that Neil Patrick Harris was pleasantly snarky, and the ending had kind of a cool twist, but I'm really not a fan of Vanessa Hudgens, and I didn't see much in her performance to change my mind.

Rewatched The Order, mostly to make sure that I still wanted to buy it when the opportunity arises, and Plunkett & Macleane for the same reason. Jonny Lee Miller is one of those actors that I like best in period work-- not to say that he's not perfectly admirable in contemporary roles, just that I prefer watching him in historical work. Jack Davenport is another I put in that category, although with him, I actually don't like the modern roles that I've seen him perform. And, of course, he'll always be Commodore James Norrington to me.

I also glutted myself on French Open tennis, of course. Djokovic WIPED THE COURTS with his opponent on Friday, and then yesterday struggled from a two-set deficit. Nobody was showing the game live, so I have no idea what the problem was. I was reduced to clutching my phone and desperately refreshing my French Open app with its little tennis-ball icons, maniacally chanting the tennis basics we all started learning along with how to hold a racquet: use your head, move your feet, keep your focus, play one point at a time.

Beats me if it actually helped him, but it sure made me feel better. And in the end, Djokovic won, so, you know . . . drinks all around, right?

Actually, I went back to BED, I was so wrung out emotionally.

Washed the rest of Stoli's dog beds. I got tired of doing laundry last weekend after taking her to the groomers, so I just started tossing clean sheets over her beds at Mom's house. Then Friday night, I stripped everything and carted it all home with me, because Mom has fits when I "clog up the washer with dog hair". WHATEVER. I bought you that washer and dryer, I can bloody well glut it with dog fur if I want.

Mom came down to stay overnight last night and tonight because her car will be in the shop today and tomorrow. It's weird how well my folks get along now that they're not married any more. I called a little while ago, to make sure she hadn't blown up my tv by messing with the remote ( yes, she's done it before! ), and she and my father were sitting in the living room discussing where to go for lunch. BIZARRE, I TELL YOU.

It's gonna be AWESOME to have Mom's house to myself overnight tonight. I think both my folks forget that I lived entirely on my own for fifteen years. It's really hard to adapt to living with people again, and honestly? I hate it. I need a lot of alone time, and I don't get it from either of them, because they want to be joined at the goddamn hip with me all the fucking time.

I'll probably just end up vacuuming my room at Mom's house, and possibly really living it up and changing the sheets on the bed. Still, it will be nice. And if I want to go to bed early, I can.

SO THERE.

Haven't done one of these in quite a while. It should be good writing practice for me, especially as it was quite the busy weekend.

Friday night was the annual SPN finale party. Amanda and lucifrix came down and we went to dinner at Longhorn Steakhouse before heading back to my house to dig through each other's giveaway clothes. Amanda and I have been doing this for years . . . before we donate anything to Goodwill, we each take a crack at each other's stuff. The first year we did it, I'd gone up a size and she'd gone down, so we basically just traded wardrobes-- well, except for trousers, because she's five-seven and I'm . . . totally not. The following year, we ended up trading back again.

I think there's one top in particular that has migrated between us about six times already.

Anyway, since Diane is tall too, Amanda finally has someone to whom she can pass on all her jeans and pants. Diane loves it because it means not actually having to set foot in a store and shopping ( the horror! ), and also . . . nothing free is ever bad. I think it's awesome not least because it means less packing and hauling of bags, and also because I've always loved hand-me-downs. There's something about knowing that my stuff is going to a good home-- and more than that, knowing the home to which it goes-- that I really enjoy. I love seeing Amanda or Diane in something that's come out of my closet and knowing for a fact that they're enjoying it, instead of passing it off to a thrift store and just hoping for the best.

We were very close to just bagging the whole idea of watching SPN afterwards, since it was one in the morning and we were all exhausted, but hey! What was another hour at that point?

It was weird, though . . . when the episode ended, we all looked at each other and asked, "What just happened?"

I can't put my finger on anything in particular, it's just a general feeling of lack of cohesion, lack of resolution. I suspect that the writers were all locked in a room for seventy-two hours straight, mainlining coffee and screeching, "Whaddya mean, IT'S NOT THE END OF THE SERIES?!?!?!?"

Like they were grasping at straws, trying to figure out how to prep for a last-minute decision to create a Season 8.

Granted, I'm behind by a couple of episodes, so that certainly may have had something to do with the feeling of disconnection, but I guess we'll see once I've caught up on the season.

Amanda texted me at quarter to three to let me know she made it home, and I turned out my light and settled down in bed . . . only to hear, five minutes later, the distinctive sounds of Stoli retching in a corner.

I turned on the light, sighed, and got up to deal with the mess, thinking as I did so, "How is this my life?"

Seriously.

I remember when being up at 3am meant a hot date or an awesome party, not CLEANING UP DOG PUKE.

( Rest of the weekend under the cut.... )

And so that, dear friends, was my weekend. More or less.

Or, The State of the Squirrel.

Wow, I haven't done one of these in a while. I don't know whether that's because I don't feel like I have much to say, or I'm just not motivated to say it. Maybe that's why I like memes so much . . . it's kind of like sending an LJ postcard, you know? A small, electronic way of saying, "Hi! Still alive over here!"

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Everyone and their brother is going nuts over the Eagles game yesterday. People around here are ready to canonize Donovan McNabb, when three weeks ago, they were burning him in effigy. Philadelphia is a fickle town, and a hard town on its teams, but I have to ask-- were you people even watching the same game I was?

Because what I saw was the same unreliable offensive performance that has been common to the Philadelphia Eagles for several seasons. Sure, Dawkins had a breakout play or two. Of course Westbrook had some stellar catches. But McNabb was, as usual, inconsistent at best, and overall, the offense did not appear to function as a cohesive whole. On the plus side, the Eagles' defense performed admirably, but the main reason the Eagles won? Was because the Giants clearly wanted the loss more.

What the hell happened? Did the whole New York team get up on the wrong side of the bed or something? They looked like CRAP out there.

The Steelers-Cowboys game, though, was so fucking awesome, I was screaming in the family room! I love that kind of game . . . tight score, hard-fought, and a real nail-biter of a finish. Plus, I love watching the Cowboys get their asses handed to them, and have ever since I watched Minnesota make Danny White cry on the field like a little girl, way back in the early eighties. I'd like to see Ben Roethlischberger be a little less willing to take a hit, though . . . he's of the Troy Aikman school of quarterbacking, and is going to finish his career like him, too, if he's not careful.

Unfortunately, my poor Falcons were NOT who dat team gonna beat dem Saints. I was disappointed but not surprised. They suck but I love them anyway. I have high hopes for Matt Ryan's performance at QB next year.

I started getting more into college football this year, but I admit I don't understand how the conferences and bowls work. I root for the Wisconsin Badgers, who I see from their website will be in the Champs bowl, whatever the fuck that means . . . but I have no idea how they got there. I asked my dad but forgot to preface my question with the phrase, "In twenty-five words or less..." and tuned out ten minutes into a rant about the political selection process and the degeneration of the country's moral fiber. *scratches head*

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You know Alastair on SPN is being played by the same actor who played Bogs Diamond in The Shawshank Redemption? I kind of feel like he's playing the character the same way, too. In fact, that's what tipped me off that it was the same guy . . . something about the way he cocked his head and eyed Dean like he was thinking about saying, "On your knees, bitch," and I was all AHAHAHAHA!!

Heh. We already got canon-bisexual-Sam . . . now we have canon-jailhouse-assaulted-Dean. The fanfic is just writing itself at this point, isn't it?

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So. Wound up with a new dog. I'm not entirely sure how this happened so soon, and I think maybe I wasn't quite ready, but at the same time, I hated going home to my dog-less house, and the opportunity suddenly presented itself, and poof! Free dog! She's a black-and-silver German Shepherd who I promptly named Stolichnaya-- Stoli, for short. 'Cause, you know . . . I name all my pets after booze, even though I don't really drink. Anyway, Stolichnaya vodka came out with Stoli Elite, which has a black, silver, and gold-trimmed label, which pretty much matches her coloring, so it fits.

I decided to look for a younger dog this time around, but I forgot how much energy a three-year-old would have!

Stoli's like an eel on springs. She thinks the most fun EVER is to run up the stairs and then leap all the way down in one bound. The fact that she skids into the front door and promptly bounces off to slide across the hardwood floor in the foyer seems only to be a bonus in her mind. It's a bit of a shock after Yueng, who was a slug after my own heart. But it's good for me to be out getting more exercise, and Dad plans to fence in the back yard in the spring, so Stoli can chase squirrels to her heart's content and work out some of her energy that way.

In the meantime, at least she likes to play fetch, which is relatively easy to do in the house from in front of the TV.

When it's time for another dog, I am definitely looking at senior dogs again . . . nice, calm, sedate animals who are happy with short walks, long naps, and good meals.

But have some pictures! She's a cutie. And she was very, very sorry when she whacked me in the face yesterday and nearly broke my nose.

Me and Stoli watching football on Sunday.

This is her WTF? expression. It's more common than you might think.

Tomorrow I have off to go to a funeral. Kristin's grandfather died-- no one can say it was unexpected, exactly, because the man was 97 and in poor health-- but it's always a surprise, no matter how prepared everyone might be. I have to get home and figure out what in my closet fits and is appropriate. *sighs*

More to say, but time to go. See you all on the flip side.

Hey there, LJ-peoples!

So I've been gone for awhile, obviously, what with all the house-craziness and the packing-craziness and the moving-craziness. Oh, and then it turned out that the new house developed a MOLD PROBLEM, so for the last six weeks I've been SLOWLY MILDEWING TO DEATH, but otherwise? I'm doing pretty well, I suppose.

Fortunately, the mold issue is mostly resolved, and I will be continuing to de-moldify the house this weekend.

Housewarming party at the end of September, yay!

The dog had some vet issues, also mostly resolved now, thankfully. She's doing much better and the new vet is utterly and completely awesome. I don't get the feeling ( like I had at my last vet ) that they were all about how much money they could siphon out of me. In fact, the new vet took pains to offer various price options and even suggested OTC remedies for some of Yueng's ailments.

So what's been up with you all this summer? Inquiring minds want to know. And skip=500 only takes me so far.

I couldn't sleep, so I spent the weekend making friends with my cable TV. Oh, how I love my cable TV!

I watched so many movies, I think I lost track of them all.

For instance, I finally got to see Blade: Trinity, and although I thought it was kind of dumb, I really like Dominic Purcell in it. I watched very closely, and it looked like he did his own stunts, too, which impressed me further. However, Jessica Biel is a waste of space, and Ryan Reynolds wasn't much better.

I admit that my background in karate does tend to mean that I am highly critical of fight scenes in most action movies, but it really gets my goat to see such sloppy technique. I spent most of the movie shouting at it.

Men are usually able to power through the techniques enough so that their errors don't seem as egregious, or maybe aren't as visible, but I *hate* watching most of these actresses fling their arms all over the place and perform kicks as if they're at the ballet barre.

Let me tell you something: if you don't keep your hands in a guard position in front of your body when you're attacking, whether punching or kicking? You're going to get pounded, and I don't care how fancy your moves are. Remember "The Karate Kid"? "Best block is not to be there."

All an opponent has to do is watch for your attack, sidestep, and wham! punch you in the head and down you go.

*disdainful snort*

I also watched The Fast and The Furious, which was lame, and its even lamer sequel, 2 Fast 2 Furious. If I had to listen to Paul Walker say "bro" one. more. time, I was going to leap through the screen and rip his lungs out.

However, I caught Constantine, which I enjoyed immensely, although I didn't really get all of it, and The Fog remake, which was fun in that silly kind of way that watching Tom Welling movies often are. I figured out the plot fairly quickly and then settled in to enjoy the special effects. That guy, who played the weatherman named Dan who had the hots for Selma Blair's character? Wasn't that Dr. Parrish from SGA?

On Sunday, I celebrated Easter by going to lunch with my parents. We talked a lot about geneaology and traded stories, mostly about Dad's side of the family. There's a lot I don't know, probably in part because traditionally it seems that girls are both more interested and more informed about family histories, and also just because my father can't stand to listen to his mother talk.

Hell, *I* can't stand to listen to her, either.

Anyway, it was a pretty nice day, and we were halfway there, so Mom and I took Yuengling down the shore to the beach. The dog's attitude seemed to be largely summed up by WTF? Ground she couldn't walk on, water she couldn't drink, birds she couldn't chase. She was kind of pissed.

I took pictures, though, and once I figure out how to hook up my digital camera, I shall post them.

All things considered, it was a pretty decent day.

Success!

*crowing*

Here is the new pooch!

Many smooches to tresca for assistance in getting the pic up and running!

So I'm opening my mail last night, and one of the envelopes contains a summons to appear in municipal court for my "failure to obtain 2004 license" for MY DEAD DOG.

This, of course, is six months after I notified them that my pet was deceased and would not need a license renewal.

Aaargh.

And now I'm all sad, because I really loved my dog and I miss her more than anything.

So my big project this weekend was moving back into the master bedroom, which I have not occupied since before I got sick.

I guess I could have kicked my mom out and claimed it when she was still here, but that seemed kind of mean.

And a big reason why I haven't settled back in there is because . . . well, I really miss my dog.

I had to have my beloved Sam put to sleep at the end of September. She'd been ill for more than a year with the canine equivalent of multiple sclerosis, but I still had hysterics for days.

Anyway, sleeping in the big bed, without my white German Shepherd hogging half the bed ( and most of the covers! ) wasn't quite as depressing as I suspected it would be.

It helped that I had made up the bed with new penguin flannel sheets, a new, bright red comforter cover, and bright blue pillows, which made for a very cheery look.

But I still miss my pooch.