Six Feet Under

(Or probably less.)

Sad news. My stepson’s hamster Max (aka Vlad) passed away yesterday. He was three, so he pretty much lived life to the fullest. I never had a hamster before so it was fun until the end. The poor little guy’s hair started falling out and he wasn’t moving around so well.

Hamsters are usually nocturnal so I really didn’t notice anything wrong until about two weeks ago. Once I did, I started doing research on the web about hamster health. Word to the wise, researching medical conditions on the web never turns out well. You either think you’ve got the plague or feel like Mommy Dearest. I feel like the latter, although if I remember correctly the plague was carried by rodents, so I may still have a shot at that.

We switched bedding, and shortly after I noticed Max having problems. According to the net, some pine bedding carries toxins hazardous to hamsters. My thinking is why would you label it for small animals if it could potentially harm them? Next, I think the poor little guy had a stroke. That was a possibility that never occurred to me. I mean, he’s a mammal. Of course he could have a stroke. I just never dreamed he would. I have close relatives that have had strokes. They were in the ICU for days and weeks of recuperation are involved. Next was the hair loss thing. I don’t know if he had mites or it was due to the stroke or maybe he stopped eating. It was hard to tell. He was a dwarf hamster and he really didn’t eat much anyway. What he took out of his food bowl, he usually hid.

The worst thing was that every condition I looked up indicated I should rush the little guy to the vet right away. Yes, that was my gut reaction at first, but then kept thinking of these stand-up bits on TV about hamsters being disposable pets. I mean, this is an animal kids foist off on one another at camp because the population keeps increasing. I kept having visions of Max hooked up to tiny IV units in a tiny little ICU unit, followed by an astronomical bill from the vet that would cover my next three car payments.

Now don’t everybody get all up in arms about Max suffering. We did our best to keep him warm and I helped him drink from the water bottle a few times a day. It is my sincerest hope that he didn’t suffer. And it’s not like I was going to flush him down the toilet like the guppies. He will have a proper burial in the back yard and we will have comforting thoughts of Max in hamster heaven, running on his wheel, playing in the bedding, and hiding his treasures to his hearts content.

Even his roommate Tiger, aka Jabba the Guinea Pig, seems sad. While they were in separate cages, they shared the room with my stepson when he was at our house. Tiger isn’t normally the cuddly type, but this week he wants to be petted every day. The dog is acting the same way. Of course there are times when I’m not certain who is comforting who.

I don’t know what I’d do without pets in the house, even at sad times like this.

Happy Dance

I just realized that I will be heading for Tennessee for a visit with the folks and the Janet Evanovich book signing in little more than a week. I am doing the Snoopy Happy Dance.

I’ve been rereading my Plum novels the past few weeks. Ranger is fun, but I’m definitely a Cupcake. Funny thing is, when I tried my hand at Plum fiction about a year ago, I ended up with Ranger. Actually, his brother, but still. Go figure.

With any luck, I will be able to keep from making a complete cake of myself at the signing. Janet’s daughter Alex runs the web site and I’m just as much a fan of hers as I am Janet’s. The site is a lot of fun, (http://www.evanovich.com), with photos of reader pets, Ask Alex, games, trivia, etc.

Yay!

Happy! Happy! Joy! Joy!

(Ren and Stimpy)

Ok, time to get the funk out.

5 Tips for feeling better

1. Go for a walk outside. Unless it's raining cats and dogs like it is here.
2. Take some one-on-one time with your pet. Pets are known stress reducers. Unless it's a guinea pig. If you get peed on, it's your own fault. You've been warned. I usually toss mine a toilet paper roll (the cardboard center) and he chirps happily for hours. Best of all, I don't get peed on in the process.
3. Talk to someone you care about.
4. Watch a funny movie, read a funny book, or pick up today's comics in the paper. Laughter is a great stress buster. One of my favs is Close to Home (the comic strip).
5. Decide you want to feel better. I know, I know. It isn’t always that easy. But every once in a while I tell myself to knock it off. If I want to feel better, then go do something that makes me feel better. And it works.

Seriously though folks, if you’ve been down and blue for some time now, look up a therapist. I did several years ago and simply talking to someone who won’t judge you does a lot of good. I didn’t have the worst problems in the entire world. I don’t even have the worst problems in my own family. We even got to the point where my therapist and I would just sit there and I would say, “I think I’m OK now.” And she told me, “I think I’m wasting your money at this point. How about if you need me again, call me. I’ll be here.” Very cool.

I’ve been it that dark room before, checking to see if my life insurance would cover my current debts. The thing that woke me up to the fact that there was a problem was the day a question popped in my head: Are you afraid someone will stop you? Or that they won’t?

If I want to matter to someone, I also need to do something to deserve it. Make a difference in someone’s life, whether it be a child, a shut in, or someone’s grandparents whose kids live far away. The last time I checked, the Lone Ranger hasn’t ridden into town lately, so this is something you’ve got to do yourself. Make something happen. No matter how small.

And if you’ve thought about hurting yourself, wanted to sleep forever, or thought no one would miss you if you’re gone, CALL SOMEONE TODAY. Call a hot-line, a crisis center, someone in your church – it doesn’t matter who, but call someone who can hold your hand and show you the door you need to go through.

Some goes for if you know someone who is in trouble.


Here are a few numbers.

National Hopeline Network Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-SUICIDE (1-800-784-2433).

Boys Town Suicide and Crisis Line: 800-448-3000

Covenant House: 800-999-9999


And if you have other needs, check out this website for more hotline numbers:

http://www.allaboutcounseling.com/crisis_hotlines.htm

Soylent Green Is People

I seem to be bringing out the big guns today, people. I'm stressed. Majorly stressed. Just name the main biggies that cause stress and I'm there.

I pulled a muscle in my shoulder and for a moment I thought, "Is that a shooting pain down my arm?" I'm the first to admit I'm in lousy physical shape: seriously overweight, diabetic, high blood pressure, prone to an occasional anxiety fit, and my foot hurts. Little wonder I think I could be on track for a heart attack in my 30s.

DH is stressed too. The bad thing is, usually I don't find out how much he's churned up inside until he's sick from it. He doesn't want to worry me. The bad thing is I do the exact same thing. No wonder we are both going gray.

I hate stress.

One of the things I due to combat it is use humor. Sometimes I crave it like a drug. I'll watch "Whose Line is it Anyway?" for hours. I've been spending a whole lot of time on the He Wrote/She Wrote Blog, looking for that *snort* that I love. I'll pull out old comic books, a light romantic comedy, my Stephanie Plum novels any thing to help get me through.

I've been typing "Ohm" a lot. Sometimes I write it tongue in cheek, but usually it is more of a tip of the hat because I really think meditation works. I was raised catholic. Prayer and meditation, no matter how you do it, can help reduce stress and put you in a more relaxed state of mind. That and I like the sound of it.

Oooohmmmm. See? I feel a little better already.

Hell called. They want their spawn back.

Hey, everybody! Wanna see the scorecard for my DSS's mom for the week? I knew you would!

(and it’s Wednesday):

DSS’s Mom:

• Forgot to wake him up in time for Saturday’s football practice
• Did not attend or call about DSS’s soccer game Saturday afternoon
• Missed over half of DSS’s football game on Sunday
• Gushed over new boyfriend instead of talking to DSS about his game afterwards
• Was “busy” after DSS’s football game and wanted DSS to stay an extra night with us on her weekend
• Was not awake Monday morning when I dropped him off for school and DSS and I waited in the rain for 30 minutes until we managed to wake her up.
• Had a “sleep-over buddy” Monday morning as evidenced by his vehicle in her driveway, parked in front of her vehicle
• Neglected to relay message that doctor appointment we were taking DSS to had been cancelled on Tuesday
• Is a boil on the butt of humanity and to moms everywhere

DSS: dear/darling step-son

DH: dear/darling husband

SOS: spawn of satan

Oh, and by the way, yes I tend to get snarky and sarcastic when seriously annoyed.

Deep breath. Ohm. Much better now, thank you.

Of the Godfather and Red Dresses at Funerals

(Red dress at funeral: Moonstruck)

Well, I’ve just been hit with a hum-dinger. A person in my professional life (the money- making one) just quit. I work in the financial industry, so it seems whenever this happens, it’s as if that person has died. Or, more accurately, that person is dead to my department. Really, this is the second time I’ve observed this and it seems more and more like the Godfather movie.

I have really mixed feelings about this. First, the guy who left was my “problem child,” a real Last-Minute Charlie. Everything had to be done either right away or yesterday. Drove me nucking futz. On the other hand, he was six months younger than me, had his decent moments, and actually had a sense of humor. He was seriously delinquent on the donut runs though. I don’t know. I feel torn between doing a Snoopy happy dance and treating like the death in the family I know it is. Of course the red dress at the funeral is still up for grabs. You just never know how things will shake down in my head.

Hello, my name is Indigo Montoya ...

From the Princess Bride.

Love the movie. My sisters and I all have a copy on DVD and it is one of our "sick movies," as in we pull it out when we are sick and need a pick me up.

The LaPorte County Library was awesome while I was growing up. It had great movies and a great CD collection. (Of course, the books were great too.) That's where I first discovered The Princess Bride. I think we rented it a kazillion times before we broke down and bought it.

When our tape died (yes, it was pre-DVD), I went on a quest of sorts to find a replacement. No one had it in stock. Fewer people knew what it was. I wound up in South Bend at Media Play (about and hour away) and asked the video guy if he had it in stock. Nope. I asked if I could order it. He brought up the catalog to check. He looked at me and told me it sounded familiar and gave me a few plot points. Eureka! Someone else knew it! A co-worker came up and asked what movie we were looking for. Turns out he knew it too. Before I knew it, the two of them are acting out the poison scene with "it's one of the classic blunders" and "ha ha ha! Ha ha ha! Ha ha-- (thunk)". The two of them were laughing uproariously (it was pretty funny) and having a grand ol' time with it. One said, "That was a great movie!" The other looked back at the catalog and said, "Oh man. It's out of print." I left the store feeling like I'd just ruined both their days.

No movie, but I did get a floor show.

I hate it when they re-release a movie on DVD several times. I love the behind the scenes stuff as much as the next movie maniac, but come on. Now there is an anniversary edition of the Princess Bride that I am going to have to buy - it has extras the original doesn't. And don't get me started on the Star Wars re-re-releases. There is another ALREADY SCHEDULED for all six episodes. How many times can you kick a dead horse? I've heard of a movie making one's career, but sheesh. George Lucas, I love ya, but even I am thinking it's time to put it to bed.

*spit take*

A spit take is something so funny or unexpected that it causes you to spit out whatever beverage you have in your mouth in a fine mist. It is similar to shooting shooting said beverage out your nose.

My DSS (dear step son) doesn't care for school. But when his tutor calls and leaves the message, "He has a school project due this week, and his homework seems to get done when he's at your house," what do you do?

Yes, I spent the weekend trying to figure out a 4th grade science project. It was on the human brain. I'm not sure, but I think I ended up donating mine at the end there.

Seriously, I have got to learn the fast and easy route. We used foam, some plaster wrap that looked like we should be setting broken limbs, paint, twist ties, water, heavy duty wire, pipe cleaners, and a doll stand. It took ALL WEEKEND.

On the positive side, he told me (as DH was snoozing for four hours while we trudged our way through this project) that this was the best school project ever. Maybe he wanted to do a mini-brain for fun. Or donate his to the classroom as an example. Or -- and this is my favorite -- construct a skull to go around the brain, complete with blood and guts. I don't even want to know what he wants to use for blood and guts.

Well, gee. As long as he learned something.

Thankfully I have a few years before he can take Biology and wants to dissect frogs.