And sometimes it doesn't.

Ex just called and said Sunday would just be too crazy to also take care of G.

Argh.

I am mohair.

You are Mohair.
You are a warm and fuzzy type who works well with
others, doing your share without being too
weighty. You can be stubborn and absolutely
refuse to change your position once it is set,
but that's okay since you are good at covering
up your mistakes.


What kind of yarn are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

It all works out

Just got the fall NCWHL schedule. I'm excited about playing, but started to get all wierded out about childcare. We have a practice this Sunday, and I don't have childcare set up for that. I thought about calling my ex, who has done hockey childcare a lot (and has been willing to), but just didn't. I do this a lot: not calling out of guilt, when actually, they can say 'yes' or 'no' and if 'yes,' will have plenty of advance notice.

So my ex's wife called me last night, to ask for a dog favor today. I'd forgotten that they often do this--we call it Doggie Daycare: they drop Riley off at about 7AM and pick him up that evening, 9 or later (or sometimes, the next morning). Turns out I can't logistically do it tonight, but they also need DD tomorrow, so we set that up. I hung up, thought a while, then called them back, and asked for them to watch G for Sunday's game. It may be a tad tricky, as my ex plays in a local orchestra, which is having a concert that day... but that concert is a skip-and-a-jump from the hockey rink. Might be a walk in the park. (After reading about the concert, we might just attend!)

Anyway, I love it when things work out.

(Addendum: Cool--Google Maps says it's like a 9-minute drive from the concert to the ice rink.)

Good workout

I went to my swim class today, after taking both classes off last week because of the stoopid ankle (turns out Wed was canceled anyway). She had us do a bunch of hard mechanical drills with the front pull, then a 15-minute timed swim. When I got out, my legs were kinda like jelly.

Cool.

"Want another friend?"

Netflix encourages you to send notices to friends on Netflix so you can share reviews. The friend with which I have Netflix is my NetflixFriend, and I sent a notice to my friend Rick as well. I just saw on my Netflix page that it lists "your friends" and below that, asks, "Want another friend?"

That is so sad, it's funny.

Things I'd Forgotten about My Doggies

Jazmin, foster dog in need of a better name, is a lot like my late Max: high energy, very reactive, kinda annoying to Maddy, always wants to dash out the front door. So just now, she had her head over the side of the bed while G and I were cuddling. I pushed her away with my stockinged feet--and suddenly remembered the black face of Max, gingerly and peskily pulling my socks off, one by one, with mischief and glee. She was so playful and such a jokester--and could totally laugh at herself. If she got startled, or tripped over a curb, she always came up wagging and smiling.

And a friend mentioned remembering how Maddy had first reacted to a live bird... I had forgotten this. I'd taken both dogs to a field training, where they retrieved pigeons with their wings tied back with surveyor's tape. Soft-mouthed dogs brought the pinioned pigeons back to their owners, wet but OK. Max returned a limp bird (not too soft-mouthed, my Max).

Maddy, on the other hand, sprang into the water on command, swam purposefully all the way out to the bird, then turned around and came back, saying, "Are you NUTS? That bird is ALIVE!"

Jazmin is a great retriever, something I had needed both my dogs to do: Maddy would happily run out to the ball and bring it to within 10 feet, and drop it. Max would then, on command, go get the ball and bring it to my hand (but was never interested in running out after it to bring it back). When Max died, I no longer had 'a' retriever. In this, Jazmin is a breath of fresh air. In the sleeping-on-my-bed-while-I'm-gone, not so much.

5 Reasons Why It's Bad to Type Fast

1. I had read Andrea's blog last night, and wanted to make 2 quick comments. When I went to submit the second one, it said "Please wait 20 seconds between comments. (7 seconds left)."

2. If you let folks at work know you type fast, you may end up with stupid, boring typing jobs instead of interesting, challenging work.

3. At meetings, someone will usually ask you to type the notes, when it's way better to be able to veg out or draw funny pictures while you pretend to be paying attention. And you invariably take laborious notes of some things and sparse ones of others--the opposite of what some outspoken person wants to see.

4. I used to have my calling card number memorized. I was making a call at a pay phone once, and tapped the number in really fast (800 number, then the code), and a guy waiting to use the phone asked, "Is it not working?" I guess he thought I was pounding on in frustration.

5. I typed so fast that I forgot what number 5 was.

In answer to your question, 75, but I've tested as high as 90.

Would you like my shoe size, too?

So I call Kaiser yesterday at the end of the day to let my doctor know I've had the X-rays done that morning, so she knows to look out for the results.

I press 1 for English, 1 for adult medicine, and 4 for "everything else." Then I talk to a "Kaiser representative," because they don't want to waste the advice nurse's time on things that don't involve diagnosing etc. Sure, that's fine. She starts asking me my name, home address, day phone, evening phone--they do this because folks try to get advice off a friend's Kaiser card sometimes (I think). By the time we get to my evening phone number, I blurt out that I just want to let my doctor know about the X-rays. She notes that down--and continues to ask me various questions. "Date of your last menstrual period?"

"I'm just trying to let my doctor know about the X-ray!" Yes, she knows, but she's supposed to ask these sorts of questions. I finally remember that I had just got it this morning.

Oy! I should have sent an email instead.

The ongoing saga of lateness.

So yesterday, we got our second tardy in less than 4 weeks of school. Dang it! Even got a call from the school's auto-dialer. Stupid system first says, "Your student was not in school today." WTF? I dropped him off myself! And of course I panic a bit, thinking, He's MISSING?!? (it goes on to say 'tardy')

So I made a list of things to get done at night (G chooses his clothes, lunches made, breakfast dishes laid out, etc.) and went to bed earlier and woke up at 5:30 AM, which will make some of you gasp.

But hell--it worked! I got G checked in to before-care at 7:35 and was able to get my ankle x-ray done at Kaiser quickly and was at work before 9 AM.

I just hope this keeps working!

Tired of hormones.

I'm due for my period soon, and I am really tired of the roller-coaster of emotions this hormone surge (or is it drop? who the fuck cares?) causes. Jesus. Hundreds of years of Western medicine, and no cure for PMS?

Have you seen that milk commercial where all the men are massively stocking up on milk? We scare them that much and they still have no effective PMS treatment?

Ya gotta read

Got a phone message from a guy today, who turned his Golden Retriever in to the Alameda Animal Shelter recently. Didn't realize it isn't a no-kill shelter, so called me in a panic, that he'll get the dog out tomorrow and needs to place it in a few days.

Um, I work with Labrador Retriever rescue. Not Golden Retriever rescue.

True, if you google "golden gate golden retriever rescue," our rescue pages come up first. But if you read the title, you'll see "Labrador Retriever," not "Golden Retriever," at the top.

I told him there's a very active GR rescue here in the Bay Area, and to search for that. And good luck, as that's very little lead time to place a dog. Especially since most dogs who are given up have something more going on than just "I had to move." Like dog aggression, food guarding, unexplained aggression, house training problems... a little like Jazmin, bless her heart. We're working on it, but she did attack Maddy today at noon for no obvious reason. True, no blood was shed and she stopped as soon as I yelled... but WTF?

I'm back, baby!

I'm back in Viv's blog list! Never realized how happy that would make me.

Thanks, Viv! Back off, blogroll! Spit this one out--or else!

It's, like, arthritis

Well, I wasted 1.5 hours of my life going to the doctor, only to have her pronounce timidly, "It's like arthritis" or perhaps it was "It's, like, arthritis." When I pressed her, she half-heartedly pronounced my ankle arthritic. No indication of rheumatoid versus osteoarthrtis (which I think matters...!)

Came away with a new prescription for my dwindling supply of generic Relafen and no new information (I already knew Relafen worked). And a caramel iced latte from Peets, when I really wanted the blended thing, whose name even now escapes me. And the gal who made it seemed kind of mad. Which annoyed me, 'cause heck, I could have crossed the street to Starbuck's, yk? Tch.

And the doc thought maybe I should go to P.T. to strengthen the muscles around the ankle--but was at a loss to explain why I never get this pain during or after 1 hour 15 minutes of hockey, or 1/2 hour of hard bike riding. (sigh)

Update on Jazmin.

Jazmin fairly willingly (with the help of a piece of cheddah cheese) went into the crate last night--and SLEPT. Snored, even. And this morning, after letting the dogs out into the back yard, she came back in and relaxed in the crate with the door open.

Yay!

Freaking ankle.

It happens the same way every time--always on a weekend, always when we're out & about all day. My ankle starts feeling tender, then starts hurting, I start to limp... and we're not at home where I could just take it easy. (I also choose not to leave wherever I am because the ankle doesn't seem that bad and I don't want to miss anything.)

I keep limping, it keeps hurting, and then when we're finally home, it gets a lot worse. If I don't take a strong anti-inflammatory when it starts ramping up, forget it. It gets so bad I find myself moaning and doing birthing breathing ("hee hee hee hooooo") from the pain.

So yesterday, we had the church picnic, then the couple selling me my new kitchen island came & dropped it off, then we went to a church member's housewarming-after-fire-and-rebuild party. When we finally got home, it was bad, and I took 1 pill. An hour later, still bad; I took another pill. An hour and a half later, it's still bad, and I don't want to overload my body with another pill, so I take 2 extra-strength Tylenol and a beer. Since I'm a lightweight, I know the 1 beer will make me very sleepy and, from experience, know that the pain will be gone by morning, no matter how awful it gets during the night.

Well, the pain isn't completely gone, but mostly, and dammit, I'm seeing a doctor at 2:15 today, because I'm sick and tired of this.

Oh yeah, I'm a GOOD foster mom

So we got Jazmin yesterday. She's a pretty good dog. Not a lot of obedience training, but willing to learn. She was really freaked when she first got here, which is normal, but I felt for her. She is not nearly the food hound that both my dogs are/were, which is hard for me to comprehend...

But she took to the crate well, sniffing it and going inside it. The first time I shut her in it, she acted like, "Oh?" rather than, "WTF? Open up!!"

So last night, I baby-gated the kitchen and closed my bedroom door to the bathroom so that she could only wander in the kitchen and my room. She settled in the crate for short bursts and then was up again. I let her and Maddy out a few times; the last time, I had to call them in, it being 2:47 AM and me being... well, tired.

She had socked out in the crate yesterday while G and I were trying to nap (well, it was 45 minutes of horizontal rest-ish). So I couldn't understand why she wasn't sleeping in the crate last night.

This morning, I saw why: I'd fed her in the crate the previous night, and neglected to take out the bowl. Not only that, but I hadn't put it very far back in the crate, so it was kind of in the middle. And heavy ceramic. Poor kid!

Yeah, strike me off the Foster Family of the Year candidate list.

Say it with me: Luh-oo-zuh-err.

So I'm driving in Alameda last night, 11:30, on my way to pick up G from my friend's place. I'm zipping along on Webster, which is 2 lanes each way. 3 cars in front of me are turning left, so I signal my lane change and look in my mirrors--and stop, because there's a white SUV there. The guy is so incensed that I was going to change lanes that he cranes his head all the way around to glare at me--

and almost hits someone in the intersection who's turning left in front of him. Duh, idiot!

A cool place to have worked

I've been thinking a lot lately about my last job. I worked part- and full-time at UC Berkeley's Museum of Vertebrate Zoology. I started there in, hm, 1990? and left to work at my current company in June 1994.

The MVZ isn't a museum in the sense that you pay your money and stroll through the place, learning about zoology. It's a "working museum" that is a place where they have thousands and thousands of specimens of animals from throughout the world, and zoologists from all over come to study them. The place is teeming with graduate students, who are pretty darn cool to work with.

Anyway, the MVZ keeps popping back up in my life. When I was in Powell's a few weeks ago, I found a book by one of the professors, Harry Greene. When there was a paleontology story in the news a month or two ago, the guy who was quoted had been an MVZ grad student, Kevin Padian. And today, I was perusing Snopes and came across a quote by another MVZ professor, Ned Johnson (R.I.P., from cancer in 2003).

I'm here, dammit!

Viv has hardly posted since Monday, but I have dropped off her updated list of blogs!?!?! I'm incensed.

I'm an example!

So Sunday I was an example of the ladder drill at hockey. Today, at swim class, I was an example for sculling! (moving your hands back & forth in the water, as a teaching step toward stronger swim strokes)

This is very weird for the girl who was always chosen last for teams in P.E. in junior high. I sucked at volleyball. I sucked at basketball. I sucked at tennis. I really sucked at softball. I didn't suck at soccer, but they didn't know that and still picked me last.

And now, I'm being picked to demo. (shaking head) Weird.

Tardiness

I've always hated tardiness. My own, not others'.

Well, now that G is in "real" school, tardiness counts. (At his preschool, it never really mattered if we showed up late, except that he missed out on morning "free time," when he could draw, and he didn't like that.) Yesterday, we got there at 8:30 instead of 8:20, and the teacher asked us to get a late slip. So we hung our heads (blech!) and tromped over to the office to get a late slip. Why were we late? Overslept--I hadn't reset my alarm from last weekend, when I didn't have to get up early at all. Monday, we'd woken up just fine; but yesterday, we were extra tired and I woke up at 7AM. It's pretty much impossible to get both of us ready in less than 2 hours; 1.5 was hard enough. Yoiks. They probably have some policy about getting some kind of stern letter or phone call after 3 tardies. I hate tardies.

Why did I think it was a good idea for G to go to school?

Ugh, a close call

G and I went to the main library tonight, ostensibly to return some books. As he got out, I stood between him and the street, as it is pretty busy and has NO visibility for passing cars. He got out and dashed to the sidewalk--and kept running, right in front of a tandem bike going full speed. I didn't even have time to scream.

Thankfully, these two folks had kept their brakes in top condition, because they squealed to a stop just inches from him. They apologized, but they weren't in the wrong--they had their light on and everything. G was so freaked that he started bawling.

Thank God for a good and painless lesson in "you need to look where you are running, even on a sidewalk." What if...?

My 15 seconds of fame

Last night was the first Green Conditioning night. We ran through a bunch of drills and then scrimmaged. One of the drills was the ladder drill, where you skate back & forth in a specific way between the lines across the rink. I volunteered to demonstrate it, thinking that if I messed up, well, at least I get credit for volunteering! (I always want to stop at the first red line, but if you stop there, there's nowhere to go on the left...)

Anyway, when I was done and everyone else had done it, one of the new players said, "Wow, you're really good." LOL And I was on the ice with Andrea and Jena, who can skate my ass off any day. Um, thanks, but no, you're wrong there!

And then Liz & I were fooling around and I fell backwards, knocking Andrea down (bad) right onto the toe of my skate (really bad) into her left buttcheek (ok, kinda funny while being bad). She really was a good sport about it. And amused us all after changing by walking around holding her buttcheek in her hand. :) Sorry, Andrea! My bad.

later clarification: "fooling around" just involved our hockey sticks. Liz and I are just friends. OK, I think that covers it.

6'U: it's the new crack

My friend Ellen has been raving about Six Feet Under for a while now, and has weekly 6'U parties during the season. I haven't been comfortable contemplating going because I thought the topic wouldn't be appropriate for G. Well, I was right in more ways than I knew! Language, sex, and topic wouldn't be appropriate. But for me, well...

I got the whole first season on VHS from our wonderful local video store. 5 tapes, 12 episodes. I started watching them Friday night (while G was occupied with his DVDs of SpongeBob and Disney's animated Robin Hood) and didn't stop till 2AM (G came to bed; I watched impatiently with MUTE on till he fell asleep). I can't stop! I was up till midnight last night. Bear in mind that I usually go to bed by 9:30 to be asleep by 10 so I can get up at 6AM (which is hard enough). I was sucked into 6'U immediately. It's riveting! I'd blog more, but I have more episodes to view. :)

I like Sue.

Sue from my office is very cool. I would not say that she and I are the same, but we seem to mesh so well sometimes.

We have a lovely banter that we do almost daily, where we greet each other like Seinfeld and Newman, nastily and with murderous undertones: "Hello, Susan." "Hello, Jennifer."

And just now, she was getting paper towels from the break room to clean her old office. This is the first I'd heard of her moving into a nice, roomy outside office (which, in our building, means with a window). I said, "Wow, you're moving up!" and we both struck up a rendition of the theme song from The Jeffersons, absolutely in sync.

Blogging already

Yesterday was the historic first time I've driven G to school. As I feared, it did indeed suck. First, I need to learn to go the other way around the block so I don't have to make this stupid 3-point turn way down the block where there is, at last, a driveway. Second, OK, there really isn't a second, it's just annoying to drive him to school. When we bike, we glide right in and park the bike really close to his classroom. Ostensibly lock it, stroll straight into the classroom, greet the teacher, grab my sheets (invariably there are handouts for me, daily), and go.

Well, let's face it, driving just makes me crabby. Biking rules.

I drove because it was my first swim class. I did blog about it a bit, but I do want to say I swam 3/4 mile, and wasn't worn out or tired at the end. Or sore the next day. This is huge for me, as when I start a swim class, I'm completely done by the end.

Well, we'll see next week, when she's sure to make us swim the mile for time.

I'm a killah

If you're a softie on vermin dying, stop reading right here.

I'll wait.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Well, I'm elated to report that I trapped 2 rats in the basement on Tuesday. I had noticed some of the insulation falling down and wondered what that was about--until I spotted a long fallen piece near the garage door that had rat poop in it (too big to be mouse poop). I set some snap traps, and ah! victory. I will persevere. There is no food for them to get at (well, the dog food is in Costco laundry detergent barrels that show no rat-chewing marks or holes), so I don't know what they're living on, but they're clearly happy hanging out in my basement. This will stop. (yuck)

It just never is easy!

Went to my swim class (first meeting) today. The pool was empty of water when I went a week and a half ago, a little panicked as I'd missed the first 3 classes. Turns out they were refurbishing it.

It looks a lot the same--which is to say, blue and clear and wonderful. It is outdoors, so no choking chlorine smell as you're trying to swim.

Anyway... after the class, I went to the admin center to try to get my free hang-tag for parking (pay 50 cents each time) and my sticker on my Peralta I.D. Every single time I try to do this, it takes 2 or 3 stops. Usually at the beginning of the semester, it's "We're not doing that here yet--you have to go to room A102 to pay and then come back to get the hang-tag." This was far enough into the semester that I was confident I could do it all in one place.

Not so. Got my hang-tag OK (after paying my fees--$16 for the whole semester!--which I'd tried to do online but their system freaked out), but when I asked for the sticker, I was sent...

to the library. Sure, that makes sense. I go to the info desk, see a printed note that says to go to "Loans" for the sticker, and make a left turn. The nice man at the Loans desk goes to put a sticker on, and then says, "Uh-oh, you have an old card (I haven't gotten a sticker in a few years). You have to get a new card at the student center." I turn to leave out of the doors facing the student center--and no, you can't go out that way, that would be too convenient. So I leave by the doors opposite, walk around the building, into the student center, up to the 4th floor, and get my photo taken (wet hair again!) for a new ID card. Geesh.

In the end, it is pretty much worth it, as I get student discounts for taking one measly P.E. class a semester. (shrug)

A good day

G and I went to the Cal vs. Sacramento State football game today. We used the vouchers for free General Admission tickets. Well, I guess they were trying to pack the stadium (and they did), as Sac State is not part of our usual division. They held their own for the first half, I must say! Then the coach must have yelled at the Cal players and apparently, they whomped 'em in the 2nd half, scoring 31 points to their 0. We didn't see it because we left just after the half, G having met his breaking point and my not wanting to try the patience of the woman behind us any more.

It was great to see my old friends from Cal Band, plus a girlfriend and sister. We don't see each other very often at all. TC, one of the Cal Band friends, and I met up last year at the Pride Parade and she walked in the parade with us. She was a little tripped out by people clapping for her, but I said, "Just wave," so she giggled and was a Surrogate Mom for a day. She is a sweet friend. She left with us after the halftime show and I ran into another old friend from Cal Band, a little after TC was in the band. He and we chatted a bit, then he asked how long we'd been together. More giggling.

We walked down through campus, gaining ivy leaves for our Cal caps on the way (G's idea), and parted at Berkeley BART, as she had to get on home, and we wanted to check into the Berkeley gaming store, me for more origami fodder and G for some tchotchke (which he earned by being such a good kid at the Carmel house last weekend, full to the gills with delicate, expensive, breakable stuff just at fondling height). I also got a book of paper dragons--not sure who it's for, but couldn't leave it behind! Maybe we'll cut it out together in a while.

G conked out in the car and is still sleeping. I really kinda like days that wear him out this much! Time for me to do some knitting.

This is cool!

My ex gave me her Cal season ticket and some vouchers for 2 more free tickets to Saturday's Cal game against Sacramento State. My dad heard that, and gave me his 2 vouchers and his sister's, too. Now 2 old friends and one's gf and sister are all going with us to the game! The game may be dull but the company will be fun. I'm so glad! And all this for the price of BART to Berkeley plus whatever whacky things we end up buying from the vendors (mmm, frozen lemonade).

Go Bears! Beat the Hornets!