Saturday, September 27, 2008

Scout



For those of you who don't know, Scout is our little calico cat. The missus has had her for 11 years, and as a consequence, I've known her as long as I've known Gina (said missus). On Tuesday night we'd noticed a sore on Scout that we hadn't noticed before, on her right side. Well, after some deliberation, we'd decided to take her into the vet the next morning. Gina dropped me off at work Wednesday at 7:30 in the morning, and then went home to prepare Scout for her appointment at 9:30. At about 10:30, I'd called Gina on her cell phone to find out how our little Scout was.
Well, as it turns out, our little Scout has cancer and is going to die. It's mammary cancer, and has spread out into her lymph nodes. Needless to say, Gina took the rest of the day off.
To quote from Gina's blog..."The doctor said we could get it operated on, but then she'd have two weeks of recovery from the operation, and since it has spread to her lymph nodes, she would only gain about 5 months from the whole thing anyway. Two of them would be spent in chemo, which would cause the usual vomiting, hair loss and misery."...so we have opted to make the rest of her days here with us as comfortable as possible. The doctor have us a couple of antibiotics for the sores on her side (one oral, one topical), and she has one of those 'martini' collars on her to keep her from licking herself raw (and to keep some of that antibiotic on her). We take it off periodically to let her stretch her neck and to bathe. Our other cat, Bill, really freaked out when Scout came back from the vet, evidently. Even later that evening, when I was home, he'd hissed at her as if he didn't know who or what she was. I suppose if Gina had come back from the hospital with a big ol' collar around her neck and her head shaved and all smelling like medicine, I wouldn't know how to act either (I wouldn't hiss at her, though...probably kiss her bald head and welcome her home)...anyway, Bill has mellowed. He isn't quite as chummy w/Scout now, but neither is he so freaked out, either...
It simply hurts my heart. I want to cry, but sometimes I can't, and sometimes I simply won't. If I start, I don't know if/when it will stop. I suppose it never really does stop...

Saturday, September 20, 2008

I took my wife out on a date last night - a real, honest-do-goodness date...we live in such a cool part of town that we can actually walk to movie theaters and restaurants and such, so I thought I'd take her on a walking date...we first ambled over to a restaurant called 'The Hornet', on 1st and Broadway. It's a little upscale, but not intimidatingly so...they have a few Mexican dishes, sandwiches and burgers, and some comfort-food favorites ...Gina had the Poblano Tamales and I had the Penne Creole - and it was good. I highly recommed it. We then went to the Mayan Theatre - on the opposite corner of 1st and Broadway - to see what was playing...well, we'd gotten out of The Hornet at around 7:30, and the earliest movie didn't start until 9:20...hmmmmm...so I suggested (for lack of actual planning) that we go to the Big Lots across the street to kill some time. Gina was skeptical - mainly because she didn't think that we'd be able to kill an hour and a half at Big Lots (of course she was dead on) -but I really didn't have to twist her arm (she found some cupcake cups there). I kinda thought that the date was steadily going down the shitter ("Hey, baby, let's go over to Big Lots and the Goodwill and get all crazy tonight") - indeed, we were headed in the direction of the Goodwill - when we stumbled onto a coffee shop/wine bar in between Ellsworth and Bayaud on Broadway. I forget what it was called, but it was set up to look like an old-time Italian coffee bar and not without a certain charm. The date was back on track. We went in and had some coffee drinks ( I had a Mocha, I believe) and just shot the bull for a while. We went back to the Mayan and saw a movie called "In Search of the Midnight Kiss", an indie film shot in black-and-white about a struggling screenwriter, recently moved to LA, who reluctantly (at the behest of his friend) places a want a on Craigslist. The woman who answers the ad...I won't throw any spoilers atcha, but it's a really groovy movie...we then had a nice, leisurely stroll home (we only live about 9 blocks away)...Date nights are fun. I recommend them for those of you who have potential dates...I suppose that's all for now - see ya soon...

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

My day didn't go to bad, actually...Me and the missus got up to the alarm, hit the snooze a couple o'times, and got ready for the day...I got to work, didn't have too much on my plate, and I created a spreadsheet for use in 2009...had lunch at my desk, finished out my day, not too bad of a day...when I got out to walk home, I decided I didn't really want to walk home, so I took the bus home...I caught the #6. The driver asked if I needed a transfer, I said,'No, thanks" and took my seat. I took the bus up to Corona and 6th, where I was going to connect with the #12, which goes down Corona, then crosses Speer onto Downing (the same street at that point). I got off the bus and began to cross Corona when I realized - I told the bus driver 'no, thanks'...I needed a transfer and I told the bus driver 'no, thanks'...
Aw, shit.
Well, I realized I had options. I could either walk home from 6th and Corona (not a terrible walk, actually), or I could get on the bus - and shell out another $1.75 for fare...I am now $1.75 poorer (I really didn't feel like walking home today)...
I've been looking for work via the 'net. I've blogged here about my current work situation, so you, my faithful readers (all five of you), know how much I hate that place...I do get scared that I'll leave a bad situation into something worse, and I realize at this point, I might have to work my way up (a little bit, at least) to my current wage. I am sick of caring. With all the backbiting and snitching that goes on there, I don't care anymore. Here's the latest shit so far...there are two full-time clerks - me and Doug (we'll call him Doug). Well, our team lead Annie (we'll call her...) had evidently come up to Doug and told him that she was checking out a rumor that one of the clerks was drinking on the job. According to him, he told him (I paraphrase a bit) 'Don't worry - it's not you - I just want to let you know - but don't you tell a soul or else!' Of course, he came and told me right away...as if I didn't need another reason to kiss that sorry place goodbye...Now, she hasn't mentioned a word of this supposed rumor to me, and I don't want to say anything to her, 'cause then she'll know that I let the cat out of the hat...so I've been eating lunch at my desk, to show her (without saying anything) that I'm at least stationary and not going anywhere during my lunch break to suckle at the rum teat. Of course, I theoretically could go take a quick nip in the stairwell or even slide a mini-bottle down my gullet at my desk while no one's looking. There's one flaw in that theory, however. That is, I DON'T DRINK ANYMORE! Since my PANCREATITIS attack in early May, I've maybe had 8 ounces of beer. 4 ounces at a band practice in late June (4 almost-instantly regrettable ounces), and 2 long sips of beer out of Gina's cup at a gig we had this weekend. Never mind that in the days when I did drink, I waited until I got home before enjoying libations. Until I got home. Whoever has the balls to drink at work or on their lunch break has got very huge brass ones indeed - about 10 of 'em...So, yeah, I'm a little pissed off at the work situation these days - in fact, today was such a good day at work, I almost forgot why I want to leave. Then I started blogging...
I love my iPod, by the way. I've been listening to it this whole time, and I've gone through Muddy Waters, Kyuss, Abba, Danzig, Ray Charles, Hank Williams Sr, and Zoot Sims, just to name a few...bye for now...