In Other News

I saw Jonathan Coulton at the Variety Playhouse on December 13th. It was awesome and nerdy. I like the Variety Playhouse especially because this is where I saw my first Bellydance Superstars show. Honestly, I haven't seen a second one since the first one, but still. Good memories. That's the point.

After the show there were two queues in the lobby: one for merch so you can buy stuff and then get it signed by Jonathan Coulton, and then another for people who had things to him to sign and then you could take a picture with him.

My friend Rebecca brought her ukulele and got it signed by him. She then asked if it would be okay if she could kiss him on the cheek. He said of course, because he's a lovely person and is probably used to being propositioned for strange things.

So they froze in time while I snapped a picture.

Next in line, I didn't have anything for him to sign. If I had the cash, I would have definitely gone through the merch line and purchased something, like a CD.

Alas I had nothing.

I tried to think of my excuse--why did I even need one? Everyone else was in line maybe for just a picture or a handshake. I suddenly felt the need to explain why I was even standing in line.

Holding the camera, my arms suddenly went T-Rex, and they tucked closely to my chest. Kind of mumbling as coherently as I could, avoiding eye contact, I said, "I don't have anything to sign... I just.. I just wanted... uh... YOU!"

And without thinking I grab his waist and give Rebecca the camera.

Like a champ, he laughed it off and posed with me.

I still couldn't look at him after that.

I thanked him and ran outside into the cold.

Western Heroes

I am standing in the bathroom.
My hair is dry  now, but honestly I never actually washed it. It looks pretty good though. Like it was teased on purpose. Looks kind of sexy, actually.

I've got on my layers and am buttoning up my long jacket. It's a jacket I got in high school. I've always called it my "Civil War Coat" because it reminds me of that era, however I've recently discovered that if I wear it with some fingerless gloves and a hat, I look like a rough cowboy.

With my sexy hair and my amazing jacket, I look at myself up and down, holding on to what I pretend are lapels (they are just the unbuttoned portion of my jacket).

I say to my reflection, "You are the new Western Hero."

Then I realize I forgot my earrings and rush out of the bathroom.

Animals all Over

On Xmas Eve Eve I'm actively driving out of my driveway to go and meet my brother when all of a sudden I stop my car abruptly so I don't hit this tiny little black puppy that's frolicking around.

I look at him and he looks at me, and that's it.
I'm in deep trouble.

Not sure what to do, I open my door. I see there's no collar, but he's super friendly and approaches me in my door. He puts his paws up on the seat, lets me pet him and then insists on a lift.
Baffled, I give him a lift.

Up-and-a-hop, he's in my lap and in the car.

Still not sure what to do, I put my car in reverse and sit in the driveway for a moment.

He's a friendly puppy.
Pint-sized, obviously a baby but not getting much bigger. Healthy looking, both physically and mentally. And is he...? It's dark and I feel around with my hand. Yup, he's intact.

So, what the hell is a young puppy doing, running around at night with a healthy body and healthy disposition, his balls still nestled between his legs, no collar or identification, and on Xmas Eve Eve?

I immediately think he must be some kid's Christmas present and folks are looking for him.
I shift my Volvo into drive and we are off around the dark neighborhood, looking for anybody looking for a dog.

I stop at one guy who is standing outside next to his car. The car's door is open and music is blaring out an incredibly loud version of Jingle Bells from the radio. He's leaning against the car, drinking a beer, and glaring into the darkness.

Normally, I probably wouldn't stop and inquire, but our neighborhood is the kind that lets their dogs run loose and off-leash. It's not that they trust their neighbors, I think. It's simply that they don't know any better. I say this especially with all the lunatic drivers and crazy meth addicts in mind.

So I stop the car and holler at the top of my lungs so the man can hear, "Are you looking for a dog?!" The man snaps out of his glazed-over look and looks at me. I repeat the question.

"What?" he yells back. He's a large man, holding a very tall beer can of I don't know what, and looks like he's Hispanic but its hard to say because it's dark.

I repeat my question a third time and the man starts coming close to my car. The pup in the car starts barking madly and I think at this point the gentleman drinking beer and listening to Jingle Bells is probably not looking for a dog at all.

He leans into the car and the puppy goes crazy with the barking. I repeat the question once more, even though by now I know the answer. The fellow shakes his head and says, "No" and I thank him for his time. As I begin to roll away and down the street, he yells "Merry Christmas!!" to me.

Still not knowing what to do about this dog, I just drive home. Parked in the driveway, I think about everything that has happened the past couple of weeks.

Momobella having cancer and those vet bills, which I paid off with a  credit card.
And then Bingley's teeth and possible head tumor, and how I used all the money I had earned for pet-sitting my friends rabbits on that.
And then also that I'm pet-sitting two rabbits, which are hanging out in the room with the rats and the other critters aren't allowed in that room anyway.

And then I thought of all the things that could go wrong with bringing a strange puppy into the house.

What if somehow this dog was sick and I just couldn't tell? He looks healthy and well-taken care of, but that doesn't mean he has had his shots or anything. For Pete's sake, his balls are still there.
What if he and Mary Jane don't get along? How long can you handle the fighting and supervising?
What if he does something somehow where he gets his teeth on the ferrets? I'll never forgive myself if that were the case.

I took a deep breath.
One step at a time.
Can't leave him in the car, can't really let him go back into the darkness. If he got hit, I'd feel awful and guilty all over again.

Besides, someone is probably looking for him.
So I held onto him firmly, noticed he didn't have a problem being picked up or handled, and brought him into my house.

He went into the kitchen, where I closed him off with the ferret gate.
I called my brother and canceled dinner then called Eddy to let him know what was going on.

It is currently DAY 3 of having the puppy in our house. We are calling him Riley (after going through two other names, Barkley and Riker).

Mary Jane loves wrestling with him, although it does seem sometimes she wishes he would stop, and he's made himself very much at home. Eddy and I still intend to let the Shelter know about the puppy, just in case people ARE looking for him. We wanted to make flyers too, but its been raining.

Still, he's very sweet and well mannered. He growled at me a little when I pushed him over last night as I tried to get comfortable in bed but I informed him that was "inappropriate behavior, young man, and I am the alpha in this household, not you!"

We'll see what happens to him. If no one claims him, I am not putting him in a shelter. No way in hell.

Happy Sad

Momobella got home on Thursday and it was supreme jubilation. She ran around the living room in a frantic frenzy before even approaching the boys.

The boys were napping, the cage doors were closed.
She stared at the closed door; stood on her back paws and touched the door.
When I finally opened it for her, she climbed in as frantically as she could, her back paws kicking at the air below her.
I gave her bottom a little push and up she went. Off like a rocket, speeding up the ramps into the slumbering part of the cage.
Jack was first because he was closest. She tackled him with vicious and insane kisses.
She licked his ear and licked his face. When he began to wake up (because how can you stay asleep during that?) he gave her kisses back.
When she felt like she had enough of Jack, it was Rudyard's turn (whom we know is her favorite). He was slumbering in the pirate ship hammock, and she stood on her back paws peering into it. Almost as if watching him slumber before deciding he'd had enough of a nap.
Again with the kisses.
Vicious and intense, licks with no chomps. All over his ears and his face.

Momo pulled the boys out of bed and made them interact with her. She was so happy.

Whenever I visited her at the vet's office,  she never gave me such emotion.  It was very much the same interaction I always get with Momobella. Some kisses, definitely chomps, not really playing or interacting with me personally.

This is okay, it doesn't bother me. I understand that a ferret's best mate is another ferret. I knew when I lost Edgar years ago and Rudyard was an only child for a short while that I just couldn't keep up. I couldn't provide the energy or vigor that a ferret needs and thrives from with another ferret.

But nothing proved it more--how important a ferret family is. It's always recommended that when you adopt a weasel, you adopt a pair. I say that its more of a recommendation! It's a must. The best "toy" you could ever get them is someone who can work and play on the same level as them.

I wish I had videotaped their reunion, but there was no way in hell I was going to make Momo wait any longer than she had to.

So now, Momo is on prednisone for the rest of her life. For a few days she has to take a high dose of a liquid form, then we get to go to the pill-crushing, ferret-vite mixture (which she will ultimately enjoy more). I don't know how long I get to keep her.

She's eating food but she's not gaining any weight. She lost weight in the vet's office, but she could've also been depressed. I mean, I sure as hell was and I was only in the vet's office an hour a day.

In the mean time it's tumor city for my rats, who are reaching the ripe age of 2 years come February. I took Bingley to the vet yesterday.  This vet is new and I really like her. She likes explaining what's going on, so in turn I know exactly what's up with Bingley. Or as much as she does.

Bingley's top incisors have "disappeared," meaning they are twisted around and not in the normal place. Because his top incisors are "gone," his bottom ones have nothing to stop them from being ground down. I took him to get his teeth trimmed when we made the discovery. What's worse is that there is a mass at the roof of his mouth. This distortion could be a number of things (trauma, for instance, or an inflamation due to the stabbing of his bottom incisors), but what it most likely is is a tumor.

Rats getting tumors is so commonplace, its rare to hear of a rattie just dying of old age. It's usually, "They are old and they have a tumor."

So Bingley very likely has a tumor in the roof of his mouth. I have to keep an eye on it. Basically, I have to see when his quality of life begins to diminish so I can make The Decision. It's rough and its shitty. It's not what I wanted to hear after bringing MomoBella home.

I really like this vet though (Sycamore Clinic, Dr. Mackey). She took pictures during Bingley's surgical procedure (the trimming of his bottom incisors; he had to go under) and explained to me what was going on. We hypothesized together about what things could be. She's very good with people and very good with animals. During Bingley's physical exam, Bingley was very comfortable with her and she never forced him into to doing anything uncomfortable. Dr. Mackey told me she likes to "go with the flow" in regards to animals. I really like that.

So there we go. Link probably has to go in soon too. He's got some weird dental issues too; I think the messed up teeth is genetic. I heard another rat from the litter was also having teeth problems and needed a trim.

Early Release

MomoBella is coming home a day early!

I've been visiting her every day. I try to stay with her an hour, but sometimes I can only do thirty minutes.

Today I did 45 minutes.

All of our visits have been good so far. She will sometimes play, mostly sleep, occasionally be curious and sniff around the room we stay in together. Every day she bites me.

Today, I was trying to clean some of her coat--it looked a little sticky.  We struggled a bit to the point where this scab on her ear opened up and she started bleeding. I was able to stop the bleeding. I gave her a treat so she would calm down and then she vomited up some bile. Momo's always kind of vomited sometimes and I was worried that the stress of our previous struggle upset her tummy some.

I got a call from the vet's office tonight saying they were going to probably do some blood work tomorrow morning and give her the rabies vaccine tomorrow afternoon, then I can pick her up around 3:30pm. I can't wait!

Bundle of Crazy

I'm visiting Momo everyday at the vet school until she comes home (which will be next Friday, Dec. 21st). Here she is poking her head out of the tote that she gets to keep with her.

Her caretaker is Ashley, who is super sweet and friendly. I really like her and she seems to be pretty fond of Momo.

She said this morning that she likes my ferret art (I will ocassionally take a sketch pad with me when visiting), so maybe I will draw her something as a show of appreciation.

The New Word is Cancerous

It doesn't feel like the holidays to me. I don't even want to hear Christmas music on the radio. I'm just not in the mood.

I found out on Monday that my precious MoMoBella has lymphoma. There are large nodules spread throughout her body--intestines, kidney, liver, etc. The vet showed me the ultrasounds they took and pointed the lymph nodes out to me, but they were large enough that I could see it without any help.

To help with the discomfort, she's been given predinosone that she has to take twice a day for the rest of her life. It was explained to me that the drug will shrink the lymph nodes down, but eventually the cancer will get wise and overcome the drug. "And when it does," the vet told me, "it will come hard and it will come fast."

I was told that predinosone is a type of chemotherapy, but you "get what you pay for." It's extremely inexpensive ($6 a month for a bottle) and it isn't the best option. I was told that there are other options, other types of chemotherapy, that I can consider.

I don't know what to do. MoMoBella is six years old. She's my baby girl, but I know she's also an older ferret.

To make matters worse, she bit a doctor while she was getting her check-up. I told them before they took her back that she is feisty and is a biter. She also doesn't have a rabies vaccination, which I didn't realize was required in the state of Georgia. I knew dogs and cats needed their rabies shot annually, but because ferrets are typically indoor animals it did not occur to me that they would fall under the same rules.

MoMo doesn't have rabies, but because I didn't vaccinate her she is being held in quarantine for ten days. I won't be able to get her back until next Friday on the 21st.

So happy holidays everyone! Maybe it'll feel more like Christmastime when my whole family is home and in my house.

Ferocious and Fierce

Today I found out that MomoBella has an advanced stage of lymphoma.

Happy Belated Vegas Post!

I realized that I shared my adventure with Spider Man when I went to Vegas, but I didn't share the rest! Damn and BLAST my busy busy life.

When I wasn't dancing my ass off or inhaling the dry desert air, I was out and about trying to see all the places I could.

Hard Rock Cafe in Las Vegas
I didn't actually go and eat in the cafe, but I went to the gift shop. It's where I got my musical family gifts from-- like, guitar picks, and earrings, and pins that I think you are supposed to attach to your guitar strap.

Geisha Moth
Geisha Moth is an AMAZING artist who creates all of her belly dance clothing by hand. She was one of the vendors at the Intensive Bellydance Festival and I bought a couple of things from her. She takes care of her customers and put my stuff in this cute bag, gave me a peacock feather, and some mini m&ms. YAY!






Large Pizza for $5
This is not special to Vegas, but I was amazed I could find it. I was so broke and could barely afford the food in the restaurants (strip or hotel, hotels being the worst). This was a HUGE find and saved my ass several times. The strip also had a McDonald's, but I couldn't find it. I saw the Big Golden M and wrappers on the ground, but the actual place had disappeared and was a mystery. Maybe that's what the Big M really was for....

Hello Kitty Wine in Adult Novelty Store
Porn Shop had Hello Kitty Wine! I wish I could've bought it for my friend Rebecca who is crazy about Hello Kitty. Alas, we'll just have to thin about it until that day comes.








That's all I've got for now! Tune in until next time..... when I remember things!!

Undestructable

I've just picked up some rat food and pig ears at the Pet Smart. As I'm leaving the parking lot, a song ends in my CD player and the next track on this particular mix is "Undestructable" by Gogol Bordello.

It should be noted that I do indeed like to play my music loudly. I enjoy music best when I feel like I'm being drowned in it.

So, yes, my music is playing a little loudly while I'm driving in the parking lot.

A fellow and the lady he is with begin to cross in front of me, which I of course yield to. As I slow down to a stop, the gentleman turns to face me fully, grabs his junk through his pants, and shakes it at me. Meanwhile, his lady-friend barely gives any sign of caring.

Its a very obvious and big gesture, so I really doubt that the chick didn't notice it.

And it was very much directed at me because, somehow through his douchebag sunglasses and backwards hat, we made eye contact.

I'm very confused.
Did I miss something?
Does this mean something in Gogol Bordello Land? I know he can be vulgar in his lyrics, but as far as I know shaking your junk at another person doesn't mean you like Gogol too. Or does it?

The Birds! The Birds!

A small brown bird, what I believe to be a House Wren, made its way into the library today. It had been chased all day by one of our coworkers upstairs, who thought she had trapped it into a small room. The bird was a wiley and devious creature, thoroughly unafraid of humans.

I heard about the bird in the latter part of the day, to which I immediately ventured upstairs hoping to help.

Laura (coworker working upstairs at the Reference Desk) was already following into the construction area when I tagged along.

This bird, I tell you, was as cool as could be.
He was not afraid of us, nor was he trying very hard to get away. In fact, I think (and Laura agrees) that he was just messing with us. After all, he was out in the open of the construction area. An area mostly filled with shelves and almost finished study rooms. Two little ladies were following him around with sweaters to toss on him, and gosh! their reflexes were slow! What's to worry?

Eventually, Eddy offered his aid. We lost the bird for a while, but soon discovered him hopping around on the floor amongst the patrons sitting at the computers.

Pretty soon, three library staff were running around back and forth trying to get under the feet of some patrons. Can you imagine the commotion we caused? Oh, it was glorious. To be a patron, completely unaware, and then suddenly a library staff employee saying, "Excuse me, there is a bird at your feet and I'm trying to catch it."

How would you react?

Eventually, Eddy was able to corner it into a side room and quickly closed the door. Laura and I slid in, our soft sweaters at the ready. A crowd gathered at the windows of the room we were in.

It was insane. All of our energy went into trapping that bird, and that is when the bird started to freak out. That was the bird's mistake, I think. The freaking out. If he had stayed cool, we probably would have never caught him.

But I could see he was irritated. His feathers started to ruffle. Somehow we got him cornered and both Laura and I threw our sweaters onto the little creature.

I could feel him under my palm through the sweater. He was fluttering like mad. As I gingerly scooped him up, he made a noise of indignation. So I would know how upset he was, he made several more noises as I picked him up in the folds of the sweater.

Hurrah! At last!

As I carried him through the library, I got many nods of approval from both staff and patrons. I went outside and set the birdie free, who left without a look back.

Laura, Eddy and I are BIRD VICTORS!

Eddy reminded me that this was my second bird rescue within a year, and I recalled that he was indeed correct! He helped me catch a rooster at the very beginning of the year (January or February). Many cock jokes were made. Hurray!

Five Pounds

I saw my orthopedist earlier this week for a check-up on my elbow. He says that for some reason my fracture shifted, however it's still healing nicely.

I am sad to say I didn't hit my arm stretch quota for my third week. I was hoping to personally be able to bend my arm all the way out and rotate my wrist so my palms were face up.

We all heal differently. I was just hoping to heal like Wolverine.

My wrist is halfway there. Unfortunately, because of the trauma I've inflicted upon my own self, my muscles are extremely tight. It's my job to loosen them up and stretch them out. It's like when you're trying to learn how to do a split. It's hard, it can hurt, but in the end you can do a split.

Personally I can't do a split, but maybe after this I'll start trying to.

What I'm supposed to do is take a five pound weight and have it rotate my muscle for me. I've bought a heating pad to heat up my muscle and loosen it. I also took the weight in the bathtub last night where my muscles would've relaxed due to the warm water.

It's too soon to expect results, I guess, but due to my American nature I want it to happen instantaneously. I want to be fixed now!

Last Thursday I was teaching bellydance fusion at Floorspace. I was trying to warm up our bodies and got to our arms. Arms are important to warm up, and I've always been pretty proud of my arms. I was super sad that I couldn't get my left arm to do all the florets and wrist turns that I wanted it too. I hope to have that changed by next Thursday when we pick back up.

At least I can pick all my weasels up in my left arm. I walked around with all three of them hanging onto me this morning. Maybe they'll be part of my daily/constant work out. I mean, all three of them together have to be at least five pounds. Jack is 3lbs alone.

Oh!!! And that reminds me, with all the insanity happening at the beginning of this month I totally forgot that my babes had birthdays. I haven't given them a proper shout-out, so I guess I'll do that here on The Mindful Rudyard.

Rudyard, my darlingest weasel, happy birthday! You are SIX years old!
MoMoBella, you pretty peach, happy birthday! You are SIX years old too!
Jack, my little man, happy birthday! You are THREE years old!

You three give me nothing but happiness! and a lot of worry! But the worry is compensated by the amount of happiness. You may not have realized why you got those new toys and beds in your house, but it is because of your surreptitious birthdays.

Birthday Gifts Were (ferrets in these photos were not included):

An alligator bed, a pirate hat, and a lady bug toy (but not the frog or bee, unfortunately).

Thanks Guys

I've had a ridiculously adventurous past two weeks.

I broke my elbow about a week and a half ago during dance rehearsal. I was attempting a high kick from Beyonce's "All The Single Ladies/Put A Ring On it" when both my feet left the slippery concrete floor and I came crashing down, my weight all onto one point.

A few days after that, I moved into a duplex with Eddy where our management is insanely incompetent and slow moving.

While the break isn't actually terribly bad and takes a total of six weeks to heal, dealing with this thing has been one of the hardest things I've done so far. Not being able to function to the same capacity that I'm used to is mind-boggling and pretty upsetting.

All my friends and family have been amazingly helpful and encouraging. I've been out of my sling for the past five days and, while it was pretty difficult at first, I think I'm getting used to working around my arm.

I can't work my second job as a server, unfortunately, so half my income for the month is temporarily suspended. While I'm working at the library, I can't actually shelve very much. I try to, but my arm can only go up so high.

The worst of it, which has gotten substantially better, is sleeping at night. I tend to wake up at least once a night thinking, "Oh man, that really fucking hurts." I wonder if its because when one drifts off into sleep and then you wake up and you're not quite aware of what's going on? Or maybe I sleep funny and keep thinking I can sleep like I normally do, but I can't? Or maybe its just sore?

I dunno.

But regardless, I'm still really grateful to all my family and friends that have helped me out. Eddy's been Superman for sure, and my mom has been great, and all my friends are endlessly wonderful and helpful. I feel really lucky.

And I'm sure people who are very active can feel me here--it's hard being so independent one minute and then not even being able to dress yourself the next. It's hard losing your own schedule and having to be dependent on what everyone else can do for you.

Not that I'm complaining about having to be dependent on other people's schedules--it's just such a huge change! All of the sudden changes have been hard on me, but I'm finally working around it. Plus I am capable of getting dressed AND putting make-up on, as well as manage to put my contacts on one-handed. And, I'm hoping, maybe I'll be able to actually wash and blow dry my hair one handed so I don't look so raggedy and disheveled. :P

And now I'm going to stop my blubbering.

Rudyard is No Good

Natalie told me this morning that Rudyard woke her up last night. When she brought him back to the cage, she noticed part of the surrounding fence was pinched in enough that he could have climbed atop the cage and jumped off into freedom.

Naturally, she fixed the fence and went back to bed.

When I awoke this morning, I discovered Rudyard not just on top of his cage, but with both his paws on the pinched-in bit of the surrounding fence.

Bastard! He's realized that he can nudge the fence appropriately while on the floor before climbing on the cage and leaping over.

Because I was going to work, the only thing I could think to do was fix the fence and close up the side doors on the cage that allowed access to the roof.

Bastard Rudyard doesn't give a shit. He'll scale that cage side like its a mountain and he's a mountaineer. Then he'll jump over the fence he had manipulated earlier and Freedom Is He.

I got home from a very long day at work and counted two ferrets in the cage. I looked all over the house trying to find my deaf boy, knowing that calling out his name and shaking the treat bag was a waste of time.

I noticed the cats weren't upset, so he couldn't be in any of the rooms they were in. Ultimately I figured that he would get tired and go to sleep in a familiar place, like my room. I couldn't find him there either.

I brought MoMo and Jack to my room, knowing that they needed to get out too, and tried not to panic. Still feeling the insane adrenaline rush I had gotten from work, staying calm was ridiculously difficult.

I noticed MoMo and Jack were very curious about the closet. I know I've got some folded up curtains in there, so I felt around for a soft fuzzy. No such luck.

I traversed the house once more.

Don't panic. No panicking allowed.

But my brain kept thinking, Oh God, what if he's hurt? Oh God, what if he's somehow made it outside? Oh God, what if I never find him again until I move out and he's dead and I don't think I could handle that right now--

Stop.
Calm down.
Get out your flashlight.

Check under the bed.
Check around the house.
One more time in the closet? Jack's really insisting.

With the flashlight, I find Rudyard bundled up and sleeping deep in the curtains. I grab him to see if he's okay.

Hey Mom. What's up. I'm kinda sleepy. Can I go back in the blankets now? You look upset, I'm going to give you all these kisses to make you feel better.

I know it is in a ferret's nature to test their boundaries and pursue farther. Adventure and Curiosity, that's the ferret way! But Rudyard, it is YOU that will have to explain to MoMoBella and Jack why all the doors to the cage are closed and why your fellow weasels are not allowed outside the fenced-in exterior.

And when you have hissy-fits, I will shake my head and say, "Sorry baby. This is for your own good."

Cos it is.

It's for my own good too, because if anything ever happened to you, you little dubious shit-head bastard, I don't know what I would do with myself.

Weasel Victory

I love it when the weather's cold
'Cause I get to take out my grandpa's robe.

It's snuggly and warm and covered in moose
Long and blue, it disappears my caboose.

But the thing of my favorites, what I like most of all
Are the super sleepy ferrets that sleep in this shawl.

They pocket themselves right next to my tummy,
wrapped up in their sleepiness, looking so funny.

They lick their faces clean and are undeniably cute
Inside my grandpa's robe, not even stealing a boot.
(They like boots a lot)

So Hurrah! This is a Weasel Victory!
For cuddly-time can be trickery!

But this time is great, its true, it's gold.
Not these weasels nor myself are bound to get cold.

On the Move

It feels like I'm always moving around, but hopefully this next move will keep me still for a while. I can't afford to move constantly and I have sooooo much stuff.

AND I'm going to do what I can so I don't have to rent out a moving van. BLEGH. I have used one-to-many a Uhaul over the years and while they sure are fun to drive, their prices really hit me hard.

Even when you're doing it cheap, moving is pricey. Think of all the start-up bills you have to deal with-- power, water, and if you want internet you have to pay that one too. Pet fees are always crazy and if you move often you have to pay those often. They can almost sometimes be as much as a rent check. Yikes.

Fortunately, the place that Eddy and I are about to inhabit is pretty inexpensive and they'll allow us to pay those nasty pet fees in pieces. But because rent is half off the first month, we may actually be able to pay all of our ridiculous start-up-fee expenses without going too overboard.

On a totally different side-note, Effie's Club Follies is going to be going the midnight showings of Gonzorrific Films this Saturday at Cine.

I am super duper pumped about this, mostly because I'm involved with Effie's and they worked with Gonzorrific for a great horror flick. But also, as I've gotten to know Andrew Shearer and his work, I really like and respect what he does. Plus he's a such a super sweet nice guy, and it's awesome that he makes horror movies.

Tumors

 My rat boys are about a year and a half (they will turn two years in February, but I'm  not good at precise calculations, so we'll say a year and one half).

I haven't gotten any good group shots since they were wee little ratlings. Looking above, its hard to tell who is who, really.

Well, with age comes complications. This is true for most things in life.

While complications could simply mean things like "more responsibility" in the human world, typically in the critter world it doesn't translate the same way.

A couple months ago, I found a tumor underneath Link's right arm. I think it's actually attached to his chest.


Today, I found a small spot on Darcy's chest. At first I thought it was a nipple, but realized quickly it was in the wrong place for that.

The average lifespan of a rat is anywhere from 3-5 years. That's a huge difference in rat years!

And sometimes it doesn't matter how well you treat them or care for them. At some point in their small and tight lifespan, they are going to be more likely to get a tumor. Rats and tumors go hand-in-hand, it seems. It is not uncommon for one's pet rat to get a tumor.

While not all tumors are "bad" (there are rats who will have benign tumors) it does ultimately suck. And what really sucks is that you can't always afford to get it removed, whether its benign or not.

A friend of mine in the Vet degree at UGA once took a look at my sister's rats a few years ago. They were growing tumors and Audrey was worried about them. What should she do? Michelle said that you could go to the UGA vet school and get them lopped off for about $100. While $100 isn't too bad, it's still money that you don't always have right away.

And I know some people say if you can't afford the vet bills you shouldn't even "own" a pet (I put "own" in quotations because I don't like saying I "own" my pets; mothers don't describe "owning" their children). I don't really want to get into that whole debate.

This post is mostly about how sad I am that at this moment in my life, I can't get rid of these tiny little things growing out of my children's chests. It doesn't bother them and it may never bother them. I've seen tumors go bad and I've seen tumors have zero effect on the lifestyle of the rat. Either way, it sucks. They're getting older and that's hard to accept.

Jack is Smart

Yup.
Sorry, Jack. I didn't know. I feel, in this circumstance, that I am indeed the fool.

For the longest time, I always thought of Jack as my "dumb jock." He's big and didn't seem to be terribly on the ball.

After all, how do you compare to your cage-mates, one of which is a dangerous female with an insane memory and the other is a crazy obstacle climber and dexterous little fighter?

Poor Jack. He's just a happy guy who doesn't hold grudges. And maybe climbing the bed was really hard at first, but he eventually got there, didn't he? And you know, Rudyard is deaf and doesn't really know when to quit--that doesn't mean Jack is bad at fighting. Maybe he just doesn't care. And when he climbs the top of the cage and frantically runs from side to side to see if there is an escape route, he's not being dumb (even though he tries this all the time with the same effect). He's gauging distances and collecting attention. Jack knows what happens when you collect attention.

So here's my epiphany for you:
On a previous post, I let you know how bewildered I was that Jack had somehow escaped the clutches of his cage. I have since then learned that Jack knows how to use his strength and bigness and thick head to his advantage. I don't mean thick head as in thick-headedness either! Not anymore! I meant that he has a very sturdy skull and pretty sturdy bones.

You see, Jack lifted the cage up with his head.

Let me explain: when a ferret has their triangle nose in something, it is only a matter of time before they open the thing. Their nose is like a bottle opener. It works the same way.

Their cage is waist-high with a "gate" surrounding it. This gate is hooked together with three hooks. One side of the gate has hooks, the other side and loops that go over the hooks.

Jack LIFTED the loops off the hooks, therefore lifting one of the gates themselves.

He didn't have to lift all the loops off the hooks, just the bottom ones. Once those were undone, he was able to walk on out with as much pleasure as a child with ice cream.

And it was easy for him, because he's a big strong guy with big strong bones.

When I picked him up after finding him toddling about the house, I noticed the unhooked latches. In case it was just a happy accident, I sat and watched him. Impatient to come out again and play, he immediately set to work. He knew exactly what he was doing.

It seems I had miscalculated the smarts of my baby boy.

This reminds me of when I was in elementary school and I was told that because I was not good at math, I was clearly not smart enough to go to Spectrum classes (these were the gifted classes, which I did eventually get to go to, but that was probably because they didn't have gifted classes for writers or artists. Just math-heads).

Anywho. Just wanted to let you know.

Bewildered

Bewildered:
that I could step away from a kettle put to boil and completely forget about it until I'm getting ready to leave for work, upon which I discover the pot has temporarily fused itself to the stove eye.

Bewildered:
that I put the ferrets away last night (I'm 99.99% sure!!) and yet when I get up in the morning to make coffee, Jack is running around with the cats.








Bewildered:
that I'm in such an amazing relationship with my boy, Eddy, and we're thinking of getting a place together.

Bewildered:
that I'm pretty sure I packed all my winter clothes into a box and stored them in my closet, but they are not there.














Bewildered:
that my amazing roommate Natalie is not mad at me or kicking me out due to the fact that I ruined her kettle and her stove eye.

(How does she put up with me? I've broken her plates, ruined a mirror, AND clogged up the kitchen drain, YET we still get along so well. I would have run my ass out by now if it were me....)



Bewildered:
that I'm turning 25 next week, and what does that mean exactly? Am I a grown-up yet?

Bewildered:
that even though I have three amazing wonderful ferrets who play with each other and keep each other company, they still need me to play with them too.

Steampunk kittens

I'm drawing a steampunk cat for a friend and trying to figure out which route to take-- chibi/anime style? realistic? something else?

It's going to be kitty-tastic either way, just like this guy:

 

Or this guy, which is kitty-tastic AND bacon-tastic:

Additionally, it seemed necessary to share this as well, just because it cracks me up:

Bits of a Vegas Trip: Costumes Capers

I didn't actively have streaming internet while at the Flamingo in Las Vegas (well, I could have and it would've cost me $20.00 for 24hrs), so I wasn't able to update my adventures like I would have hoped.

This totally sucks to me because then I can't put everything down while its fresh in my memory. I guess I could have typed it up on my word processor, but I didn't. So.... oh well then.

Here's something I'll never forget though!

I met Spider Man during my travels, and he is Latino!

 I took this with my camera phone because I didn't want to carry around the big clunky camera I'm borrowing from my friend, Germaine.

A kind lady with a baby took the second picture.

I figured she wouldn't run away with my phone. Plus my phone is pretty beat up and there are smarter ones to steal from.





There were a lot of other folks hanging around Vegas, just dressed up in costume. I think next time I go, I'll have some kind of crazy costume for me to be dressed up in and see how well I do in tips.

I do not envy the folks who were dressed in full body suits however. There were some Mario and Luigis, totally in plushie type outfits. They must have been so hot. It was 90 degrees out there in desert country, with no hopes of any rain ever.

On my first day, I also saw three Elvises hanging out together-- a white Elvis, a black Elvis, and a Latino Elvis. It would be cool if they did that with Jesuses too.

Labor Day

I spent my Labor Day hanging out with friends and seeing them before I headed out to Las Vegas (which is tomorrow-- click here for what's going on out in Las Vegas).

My morning adventure began with Eddy as we made our way to Big City Bread. I had no idea how busy it was in the mornings there.

I tried to be artsy fartsy with my camera in which I made our scone look as delicious as it truly was! Success!

While I only got to see a couple of my bellydance babes, I got a lot of love and good mojo from my other ladies (yallah yallah!)





So, while we were munching and chatting as innocently as the next group of strangers, a small group of very young girls (three of them, to be exact) gathered with chalk in their small hands.

They approached the trees in outside patio and started drawing on the trees with their chalk. This is not terribly unusual. I drew on the walls in the bathroom when I was kid, much to my parents' dismay. Simply a form of expression and, possibly, crazy awesome creativity.

But then it got weird.

Imagine this:
three small young children, hypnotically marking a tree and rhythmically moving the chalk up and down, chanting "The tree has a face. The tree has a face. The tree has a face."

They did this for God-knows how long before moving to the tree on the other side of our table (yes, we were set in between these trees). With the same hypnotic rhythm, they began chanting, "Raaaainbow. Raaaainbow. Raaaainbow."

Eddy joked later that we were initiated into a cult.
The emoticon that expressed this situation best is this one: O.o

That evening friends and I played Settlers of Catan. There was a lot of cut-throat double-crossing tomfoolery as well as an abundance of dirty jokes (that was the only resource we weren't short on).

During the game, Jack kept wanting to play with the "grown-ups" and woke up Rudyard and Momobella. Eventually I took them into the bedroom to play and sleep on their own, but not before I took an abundance of cute pictures! CUTE PICTURES!

 It is rare and difficult to get a shot of these three trouble-makers.

It makes sense I can catch them in one shot while they are inside their cage. Outside of the cage, they would be as rampant as an enormous dinosaur attacking Tokyo.

Jack climbed on top of the cage during the game. He always does this; maybe he hopes that this time he'll escape.

His attempts are unbelievably adorable, as always.

Look at his cute little face. He's wondering why I'm not picking him up right now.

Additionally (and these were not taken on Labor Day Party Day), here is an update on my rat babies:

The photo is still a little on the blurry side. I'm learning still! But I thought Darcy was just too cute, i had to share.

They are bad and going through my stuff. Why do all the critters I have go through my stuff?