Lost footage recovered

I discovered a whole bunch of podcasts on iTunes and I was messing around when what should appear but some old beagle videos I took a few years ago that I thought were lost.  How they ended up on iTunes I'll never know.  Anyway, this one shows my boys before they went all white in the face and back before Kirby's illnesses, back when he was sleek and fat.    I'm glad I found this.  As he beautiful as he is now, it's good to have something to remember how he looked then.  And Tiki was way squirmy.

Enjoy.

EDIT:  If it isn't working for you, follow this link.

Quick Beagle Update

1.  Lest anyone think Tiki has been forgotten, I'll have you know that I felt his beady eyes on the back of my neck a while ago.  He was standing in a sunny spot on the floor, just north of a comfy dog bed that was NOT in the sun spot.  He used his Beagle Mind Powers to get me to get up and check on him and then move the dog bed into the sun for him, where he is currently all hunkered down and napping happily.

2.  Kirby started chemo on Monday.  Once every two weeks for about 5 months.  We expect he's got about 9-10 months.  He's refusing to eat dog food, but he was quite pleased with the chicken and rice I cooked for him last night.  No thanks on the sweet potatoes, which he's liked before.  He hasn't lost his appetite, he's just being a pain in the ass.  He probably overheard the oncologist telling us to feed him whatever he'll eat that won't blow out his gall bladder (that means an all ice-cream diet plan is out), and he's going to hold out for better fare.  Willful creature.  *sigh*

A Day of Dirtbunny

Originally posted on January 10, 2012



5:45 am:  Alarm goes off.  Hit snooze.
5:52 am:  Alarm goes off.  Hit snooze
5:59 am:  Alarm goes off.  OK, OK, I'm up.  Go get Mac to see if anyone commented on yesterday's post.   No.  Look for transfer news, read a little real world news, decide Newt Gingrich is still a dick.  Mr. D comes in with my coffee, then he gets in bed and starts snoring.  Drink coffee.  Play one sudoku.  Decide not to play another because I'm about five minutes behind and I don't want to aggravate the beast within Mr. D.

Get in shower.  Contemplate speeding things up by not conditioning hair, but opt in favor of conditioner.  This turns out to be a wise decision.

Brush teeth.  Examine eyebrow.  Where is are my tweezers?  Mr. D has borrowed it to remove glass shards from the washing machine (don't ask) because he forgets we have needle-nose pliers for that.  Summing up:  he borrows it/them for an illicit purpose and then he doesn't return it/them.  Wash it/them carefully with alcohol and tend to eyebrow.

Start getting dressed.  What am I going to wear?  Put yesterday's dirty stuff in hamper.  What am I going to wear?  Can't put on pants until I've put lotion on my legs, and shouldn't really do that without doing my feet as well, and if I'm going to do my feet, which I really must, I'll want to put socks on immediately, so need to choose some socks before I can start any of this.  Before I can choose socks, I need to know what else I am going to wear so I can, you know, match, sort of.

The Farm Box

Long-time readers (both of you) know that my aunt runs a non-profit farm in Connecticut that does animal rescue and animal-assisted therapy.  On years when I either have my act together so I knit a lot, or years when I am a complete mess so I don't do anything but eat/sleep/knit, I send her a box of my stuff to sell at her annual fundraiser.  Last year was largely OK but not great, so nothing.  This year I started out with my act together and have ended up a complete mess* so I have stuff to donate.  My aunt sent me a box of yarn spun from wool from some of the animals, as I documented here,** and I finally have some output.

Wretched

Summer continues to trudge along Chez Nous.  The farm box comes every Wednesday and the dogs beg for whatever might be in there, which lately has included a lot of kale.  You want kale?  OK, here you go:

They greedily grab it, chew it a few times, spit it out ("yuck") and then beg for more:

Spring Update

The Helping Profession has changed my meds again and the adjustment period has been a bear.  I've been feeling sick pretty much all the time, plus confused and depressed about being sick, and angry that I haven't figured out how to regulate my treatment regimen so that I'm not feeling lightheaded and stupid all the time.  I think the worst is over  *crosses fingers*  because I'm back to being ordinarily stupid rather than exceptionally stupid.  I just have to remember to eat before 3 pm and space my calories out more throughout the day.  I've "just" had to do this for the last decade and so far I haven't done that good a job but, hey, tomorrow's a new day.

I've had a few sick days, so I've had some extra TV time and, around here, TV means football.  The season is almost over.  Two more weekends before we enter the Dark Times.   Meanwhile,  ADP just signed a contract extension so he's good for one more year.  The zebes aren't completely out of it yet, but they've reached the point where it isn't enough for them to succeed--others must fail.  Today's Juventus match is probably ending right about now, so you can guess what I'm doing tonight.  There's also the Giro d'Italia.  My boyfriend Fabian Cancellara, along with the Schleck Bros., moved to team Leopard trek this season, but none of them are participating.  Someone from their team actually died today after a crash.  Wow.

More odds and ends

I think I've finally found the perfect coffeemaker.  See if you can find the one thing that keeps me from getting it.

We have a new tenant at our office building.

Odds and Ends

Number One

I've had a question or two about the football photos.  Tuttosport, being in the tank for Juventus as it is, usually has some really good stuff, but it's protected from downloading.  I get most of mine from either Daylife.com or Zimbio.com.  There are some on Getty's site that don't show up anywhere else, but they all have water marks.  I haven't found anything from last week's Juventus-Torino charity match.  However, a few days ago Daylife posted a few photos from the Bari match back in January, so sometimes they publish things late.  Photos from the Toro match could show up later.

Juventus Offside has posted video of the match, if you're interested.

No Big Deal

It's 6:30 pm on Friday night.  You're hungry.  You're tired.  Tomorrow is Saturday.  On Saturday, at 10:00 am, you are expected at Mel's for craft club.  You have promised to bring food--specifically, madeleines.  You made this promise willingly and enthusiastically.  Somehow, however, you have arrived at 6:30 the night before and you have not started the madeleines.  What do you do?  WHAT DO YOU DO???

Aftermath

It's the fourth day of Christmas.  There are fresh English football matches to watch and frigid windy weather to keep us inside and stale Christmas cookies to throw away and I'm starting to dream about my job again and to make lists of things I gotta do again and new books to read and old knitting to finish and I'm only sleeping twelve hours a day now instead of sixteen.  Time marches on, but before I start on the final 2010 clean-up and embark on 2011, let's review Christmas 2010.

It snowed:

Just barely, but there were five minutes of "Ooh!  Pretty!" to go along with the cocoa and kringle.  Note to self:  write thank-you note to MIL.

Dirtbunny wishes you a very beagle Christmas

So's me and Mr. D were out for about an hour and a half just now and on the way home, I thought "The dogs are not going to be happy with this."  Tiki in particular has a penchant for staging protests when people are not home at his suppertime or when people go out after suppertime.  Also, he has a thing for paper.  And so I thought "That dog is going to show his displeasure by attacking the Christmas presents."


And lo!

It was only the one.  Big mess, but no particular harm done.  If it's chewed a little at the corner, it will fit in nicely with the rest of my books.

Clown pants

I work at home a lot.  My job is pretty much reading, thinking, and writing, and I can do that better at home  where there are fewer external distractions.  There still are some, but they're good:  a view of trees, a squirrel eating my tulip bulbs, children getting out of school, the changing light as the sun passes overhead.
I've got my stuff and my comfortable chairs and I can cook for lunch instead of reheating stuff or buying a grease bomb from down the street.  There is color on the walls here.  The rugs are nice.  It smells better (mostly--depends on Tiki).  If I want fresh air, I can open a window.  If I want music, I can play whatever I want as loud as I want.  I've got my dogs with me and I can hear them breathing/snoring, and feel Kirby's fur on my feet (he's clingy.  Tiki likes his space.)

I've got the best of the offices allotted to widget monkeys like me and I like my office.  But the external distractions are more numerous and more irritating:  loud hallway conversations, a neighbor's excessive perfume, the smell of another neighbor's laundry detergent, the churning grind of the ventilation unit, the paper jamming in the shared printer outside my office door (it's a piece of crap; we've been begging for a new one for several years), people fussing with the printer to clear the paper jam, the IT guys fiddling with the printer and devising a short-term solution but not solving the real problem (i.e., the printer is a piece of shit), the sound of sirens in the street, the picket line chanting in front of my building (some people don't like the landlord's business practices), demonstrations in front of the American Enterprise Institute down the street (some people don't like Dick Cheney or Karl Rove).  The walls are boring and the lighting is bad and the ventilation is OK but not good enough for my particular sensibilities and the carpet is grubby.  Etc.

Stuffed-up November Blahs

We have a cold.  Both Mr. D. and I are afflicted and we have both missed some work. The fact that it happened to be a Champions League/Europa League week had nothing to do with it.  We're mostly better now, at least I am.  Tragically, we do not feel well enough for yard work, but that's fine, because I'm not obsessing nearly enough about the bulbs I haven't planted, the woodpile I haven't dealt with, the fencing I haven't finished, or the compost heap I haven't moved.  Unless I work myself into a full-blown anxiety attack, I probably won't get around to it until next week, and when I do it, I'll be out there red-faced and weeping about how much it sucks to do yard work.

Simmering the sauce

We have achieved the stage of the bolognese when I don't have to stand there and watch any more.  If I just remember to stir it once in awhile, that's enough.  The biscotti are sitting in a turned-off oven for their final crisping, and they will be ready in time for lattes.  And so I am finally sitting down.  Aaaaaaaaaaahhh.


Today's biscotti is Lemon-Anise, only I hate anise, so they are Lemon-Vanilla.  This is the recipe:

I left the magazine on my knitting bag, so Tiki borrowed it and edited it for me.  Maybe it's compulsive to slog through recipes just because they're there, but if I were really compulsive, I'd be forced to use anise instead of being flexible and changing the recipe, right?

And More Beagle News

We made it through the night without incident.  It appears, however, that Kirby was holding on to ALL of his waste materials while he was in the hospital.  Just now, he demanded to go out by charging unexpectedly and quite rapidly into the sunroom to stand in front of the windows.  I carried him out and he went a little, then he staggered to a better spot and went a lot more.  Then my neighbor had the audacity to conduct ordinary suburban business in his own yard, so Kirby had to go on red alert and scramble toward safety. By the time I scooped him up out of the bushes and got him back into the house, he had urinated all over me.  We're all fine now, except Tiki, who is used to going out every time Kirby goes out, but I can't manage them both right now, so Tiki stays in.  And Kirby is going out more than usual because he's backed up four days worth of excretions.  Another gross beagle injustice!


It looks like we will be doing a few extra loads of laundry this weekend.

More Beagle News

Kirby is home from the hospital.  He does not have a tumor.  He does not have any of the sort of disc compression that would explain what is happening to him.  It does not seem to be a degenerative disease, because that would not explain how he went so quickly from a little punky to can't walk in about 18 hours.
He does not have meningitis.  He did not get the surgery.  He seems to have some sort of inflammatory disease, which is like saying someone has a cough.  It's meaningless if you don't know the underlying cause--could be the sniffles; could be TB, you know?

Right now we don't have a clue.  It could be as simple as a severe reaction to the tummy meds he was on for his diarrhea, and will go away as soon as he flushes out the residual meds, or it could be something he never recovers from.    He's getting steroids and broad spectrum antibiotics.

Thing is, he still can't walk really.  He's kind of like a baby.  Sometimes he can manage a step or two, sometimes he can't even stand up, and sometimes he can go pretty far pretty fast if he gets some momentum going.  It's upsetting, plain and simple.  But.......he was a basket case in the hospital, anxious and nervous and frightened and refusing to pee to the extent they had to... um.... express his bladder and I neither know nor want to know exactly how that is accomplished.  Being in hospital was causing him so much stress that the vet pretty much directed us to bring him home and see what happens if he relaxes.  That was all Special Sweetheart needed to hear---he peed in the parking lot before we even got him to the car.  That's love, baby:  "I trust you enough to release my waste materials when you're around."

No stairs.  No jumping.  No putting him on the sofa and leaving him unattended.  No letting him skitter around uselessly on the hardwood floors.  No walks.  Is he acting like he wants a drink of water?  Then we bring his water dish to him.  Is he acting like he needs to potty?  Then we carry him outside and put him in a good place and hold up his back end if he can't do it himself.  Is he acting hungry?  Then one of us brings him his supper dish while the other one tries to keep Tiki under control.  Because he follows me everywhere, I am pretty much trapped.  I can't just get up and get a drink of water, because he wants to jump down and follow me into the kitchen, especially now that I sent him away for a couple of days.  Frankly, it's a pain in the ass.

However, he is at home.  He's still himself.  He feels safe enough to let himself sleep, and he's catching up on all the rest he didn't get in the hospital when he was on 24-hour red alert.  I could swear he's just a little more stable now than he was when we brought him home four hours ago.  He's dreaming right now.  His nose and feet are twitching like he's chasing rabbits.  We'll see how it goes over the weekend and see where we are on Monday.

Tiki is not happy.  From his point of view, it was bad when the pack was not all together, but at least he got a whole lot of extra attention and he got to sit next to Dirtbunny.  It's good that the pack is together, but now Other Dog gets supper and second supper but Little Tiki still only gets one supper.  Not fair.

True Love

Thor's First Test Drive

Tiki taking a nap

Thor's First Finished Product

Kirby Taking a Nap

Why is Dirtbunny so tired today?

WARNING: THIS POST IS RATED "P" FOR POOP!

I think Kirby is in love with his vet, Dr. Ginger. She's shaped kind of like me, and has hair kind of like mine, but she's younger, her boobs are bigger, and she's got a nose stud. I'm a little jealous. It hs been about three weeks since we last took him to the vet, and I suppose he's a little lonely for her, so he's decided to have ... oh hell I'm just going to say it .... diarrhea. He's happy and goofy and in a wonderful mood, but he has to go. A lot.

Last night, he went five times. The first three, Mr. D took care of, which is not to say that I didn't get to hear all about it. Mr. D does not like being woken up in the middle of the night for dog crises. I'm hearing impaired, so I can often sleep through dog drama, but he can't, and he resents it.  So after the third time, he announced that he was done and he stormed off to the other room and closed the door behind him and left me alone in the room with a sleepy and confused Tiki, an illin' Kirby, and a very expensive persian rug that I like very very much. Naturally, because I was so addled with sleep, I promptly went back to the land of nod.


Two hours later, Kirby woke me up. I don't know how, because he never barks and he won't try to nudge me awake or anything, but there he was, pacing the floor, looking up at me, and panting like crazy.


I have a theory that most people are either asleep or awake. Not me. Under the best of circumstances, I have a long period of about 20 minutes to an hour, depending, of semi-conscious where-the-hell-am-I and I have a very hard time forcing myself awake. I was able to register, barely, that Kirby needed to go out. A little while later, I realized I was going to have to take him out. Then I decided I needed shoes and pants and glasses, and I managed to drag myself up and stagger (literally. I was stumbling and weaving.) around to get shoes, and on the way, I stepped in.... umm...... something squishy on my expensive rug that I like very very much, and so then I ended up wiping my feet on the bathroom rug before I could put my shoes on, only my feet were still a little......ummm......smeared and Kirby was dancing around saying HURRY UP I GOTTA GO!!!!! and so I staggered out to the kitchen with my smeary feet. And then I remembered that Kirby likes to wander outside at night, so I needed to leash him, and that meant I had to find his bling and that took a while and Kirby is about to explode but we finally make it outside, me staggering and weaving the whole time. Poor guy. We spent about ten minutes out there in an lightning storm while he took care of business and tried to feel better and I managed not to lose my balance or fall down.


Next, we went in. I took off my shoes and wiped the smear off my foot. Then I wiped his poor little doggy butt before he wiped it himself on my furniture and then I got to clean the.....ummmm.......stuff off my expensive rug that I like very very much. There was a moment there when I thought I was going to vomit on top of the, um, stuff, but I managed to keep it down and then I finished and took the cleaning stuff out to the deck to put in the poop can just as the skies opened up on me and got me good and drenched. By now, because of the storm, Tiki was all upset and anxious, so the three of us got in bed, they put me in a rather constricting sandwich nd we finally, blessedly, fell asleep, and stayed that way until my alarm went off at 5:45 am. At which point I hit the snooze for half an hour, and then I sat up and groggily stared at my cup of coffee for about fifteen minutes, and then I started to drink my coffee and I slowly woke up.



Four things:



1. That coffee didn't just come down from the sky. Mr. D brought it to me and set it down by my bedside for when I was ready for it. He makes awesome coffee.


2. These are the shoes I wore outside last night:

They don't match. I suppose it's a big accomplishment that I got Kirby outside safely at all. They still have, um, stuff in them that I have to clean up at some point.

3. We are going to the vet today. hurrah

4. I did a really good job on the stuff that was on the rug, which is rather remarkable in light of the problem with the shoes.

Can you smell that?

If you ask Mr. D, he will almost invariably say "no."  His official position is that he can't smell anything.  So when you overhear him muttering this to the Yarn Bandit:

I can't stay mad at you, even though you reduce our environmental conditions to that of a hellhole.

...then you know you have a serious problem.  It's not like we don't clean up after the devilish urinator--we do--but he can be really sneaky, and it's hard to get it completely out.  Over time, and especially when it gets hot and humid, an above-and-beyond-the-call cleansing of the Hellhole is unavoidable.  And so, this morning, we rolled up the rugs, salvaged the salvageable rug pad and tossed the others, and took the rugs out to be professionally cleaned.  We will be back to the bare wood floors for three or four weeks.

WC2010: Day Four

1. I lost my effing chapstick, but then I found it again.

2. I think I'm actually going to finish the laundry in one day, for once.

3. It's amazing how much work you can get done when you force yourself to avoid the toob and the interwebs.

4. If Mr. D really loved me, he would not be in the office today, and I would not have to wait until he got home to see what the Azzurri have done. Instead, he goes off to do his VERY IMPORTANT UNCLE SAM STUFF *blows raspberry* and leaves me here alone with my unchanneled energy.