Cloning gone wrong

Okay, so I sent skin stem cells to this lab in Australia, "Clones R Us." I saw their ad in the National Enquirer. I knew if the press would print it, it MUST be true, yes? And I figured while having the dog cloned, I might as well have the Hubs cloned too. I mean, if living with one of him is fabulous, how great would it be to married to two of him? Unfortunately, the lab accidentally mixed the stem cells.


After getting used to the double-heads, I've found the new hubs to be much more obedient, but the constant licking is a side effect I didn't count on.

My brain

Your Brain's Pattern

Your mind is a firestorm - full of intensity and drama. Your thoughts may seem scattered to you most of the time... But they often seem strong and passionate to those around you. You are a natural influencer. The thoughts you share are very powerful and persuading.

http://www.blogthings.com/whatpatternisyourbrainquiz/">What Pattern Is Your Brain?

C'mon Spring!

Spring is officially one month away! Yippee! So, in an effort to soften the blow of yet another winter storm, I added my own little touch of spring to encourage winter to "get lost!"

News reporting error: It is NOT a TX refinery fire...

TC, have you been trying to cook again? Haven't we talked about this??

He gets two thumbs up.

The hubby and I have company this weekend. He's Sunshine's boyfriend, and we think he's dope (you know, "cool." Okay, I'll admit that I'm too old to use the new lingo. Sorry.)

Last week you met Crooked Jack, this week I'd like you to meet Big Bryce. And yes, that's one of the things we like about him. He's tall. He's 6'5". We like tall. We are tall. If you're under 5'10" at our house, you'll stick out like a sore thumb, or should I say, Tom Thumb. My Sunshine is 5'11" so she needs a tall guy. I'm 5'10" and the hubs is 6'3", The Boy is 6'5", my dad was 6'6" in his prime, my sister is 5'10", my brother is 6'5". You get the picture. We're Dutch, and they grow 'em tall in Holland so that if the dike breaks, the people will all be tall enough to keep their heads above water. Um, maybe I made that part up, but it makes sense to me. My step-daughters, who unfortunately don't share my gene pool, are ashamedly only 5'6" and 5'4". Tsk, tsk.

We also like Bryce because he'll eat anything. This is a mother's dream. Beef? Yup. Italian? Yup. Eggs? Yup. And of course, the big food test: coffee? Yup. And my own home-raised Sunshine, what does she eat? Let's just say she's a diabetic-in-training. If it's a starch, she'll eat it. If it's cheese, she'll not only eat it, she'll bathe in it. Maybe Bryce will be good for her and will be able to do what I've been trying to do for 21 years... get her to eat a Brussel sprout. But that's another story, about how she almost tossed her cookies at an important dinner when I made her try a Brussel sprout for the first time. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Take it from me. Don't force new foods on your kids when you're trying to impress the would-be-new-inlaws.

Reason #3 we like Bryce: he cleans up after himself. I checked the guest bedroom today to make sure all was in order and he had made the bed! And, I could see the rug! It's blue! When my son stayed in that room, I wasn't even sure there WAS carpet in that room.

Reasons #4-6: he comes from a Christian homeschooling family, and his dad's a teacher. Gotta love all that stuff too.

Most importantly? Reason #7: he LOVES the Giants.

If they don't get married someday, I'm going to adopt him. Is 23 too old to be adopted?

Hubs and his trumpet- reunited after 35 years (and it sounds like it!)

Jack, as crooked as they come.

Meet Crooked Jack. Isn't he cute? Don't you just want to adopt him??? Okay, so we won't get off on that tangent. He is the only one of the Fab 4 that I didn't take to the farm, and only to have them return. He's the lucky kitty that got to stay. He didn't always look like this.

This was Jack-a-roo when he was about 8 weeks old.

He was born with straight and normal posture, until that fateful day in July. Poor little guy: he was lying by the door, wobbling back and forth like a little kid that's fighting off sleep. Then he tried to get up and just fell over! I raced him to the vet who informed me he had an ear infection and gave him antibiotics to take.

Great. I had to give the cat 2 pills a day for 2 weeks. The vet also should have prescribed antibiotic cream and bandaids for the stubs of my hands that would be left after fighting with a feline to get a tablet down its throat.

But actually, Jack did pretty well. Of course I bribed him with kitty treats. He now has PTA (Pounce Treats Addiction), but the rehab centers are full. He's on a waiting list.

Jack took his pills, I survived with all 10 digits, and then..... Jack fell over. Again. Back to the vet. More pills. Pills gone, fingers survived, then... Jack fell over. Again. Back to vet. You get the point.

At what point should I say, "NO MORE!"?? At first, I made the investment, thinking it's a one-time "shirt off your back" experience and, well, I've wasted money on worse things than a cute cat who's sick. But then I went back, optimistically thinking, "Okay, so it's another $100, but he'll be fine NOW!" By the third visit, I started to realize that if I didn't get his cat fixed, all the money I had previously thrown at him for shots, visits, pills, etc. would truly be lost and dang it, I hate to lose.

After 4 visits, (isn't it ironic how the number 4 and the $ sign share the same key on the keyboard) the vet recommended that I have the cat operated on so she can see what's going on in his inner ear. Um, no.

Thankfully, the last round of meds left him able to stand and walk and even run, but leaving him just a little crooked and probably with double vision. And it's okay. He might not be able to climb trees, or figure out which bird is the real one, but he's got his Pounce treats and we get to enjoy his cuteness.

Just call me Gumby. Okay, so I may not be skinny, and I'm definitely not green at the moment, but my orthopedic surgeon obviously thinks I can bend in all sorts of unnatural ways.

I have knee issues, one being a torn cartilage that either keeps flapping and folding or has actually broken off. Who knew it could break? Isn't it supposed to be flexible, like, say, Gumby? So, I went to see my dear old family orthopedic surgeon.

Oh wait, I feel another digression coming on (Maybe it's my undiagnosed A.D.D.) I say family surgeon because this guy has made enough money on us to buy himself a yacht. He was looking at the my file: Oh, you're Lee's daughter! How's he doing? Tell him I said hello! Etc. etc. He did my dad's hip replacement, has checked out his back, my mom's back, my son's broken elbows, my shoulder and knee issues, etc. You get the picture. We see him reg-u-lar-ly!

As the torturer, uh, doctor was looking at my very sore knee, he starts bending it FORWARD and SIDEWAYS! I'm thinking, "Uh, Doc, God made our knee joints to bend backwards. Gee whiz, I didn't go to med school and even I know that." But I kept my big mouth shut as he continued to manipulate me and make me perform Gumbycise (it's the latest craze on all the informercials; have you seen it?).

After he finished making my knee sound like the percussion section of the marching band, and after a week of MRI's and xrays, he decides I should get a shot. Did you know those cortisone needles are 3 inches long??????????????? Thank the good Lord I'm not squeamish and therefore found this part rather fastinating.

The shot was to help the swelling in my knee. I tried to tell him I just have fat knees, but he said that my knee-in-issue was definitely puffy. Hmmm. Swollen. Puffy. I'm wondering if I can use that excuse for other "puffy" areas of my body. "No, I'm not overweight. Just chronically inflamed."

Then he sends me for a prescription of Naproxen. And being the responsible consumer and reading specialist that I am, I read the whole warning/usage/dosage paper that came with the horse pills. And this is what is said:

For the treatment of pain and swelling. Side effects: may cause headache and swelling of feet and ankles. Can you say "oxymoron?" So if I take it, I might end up looking like Gumby with Ronald McDonald feet and have my forehead gooped up with Head On. I've been taking it for a few days now and neither has happened. Whew. I already wear size 11 shoes: I don't need bigger paws, that's for sure.

Well, I guess I'll go work on my 180 legs lifts (90 for each leg) that I'm supposed to do in one sitting, in 3 sets of 30. I've found I'm much better at doing 3 sets of 3 and let's just forget that nasty little zero, shall we?

A little personal space, please

Um, Heidi, I'm trying to work on the computer here. No, you can't help me type. Your paws are a little over-sized for the keys. Okay, thanks for the kiss, but no, you still can't help me.

No title, just a sigh.

The momma has landed. Repeat... the momma has landed (see yesterday's post below).

There are exactly 3 farms and 38 houses between our house and the farm where we TRIED to take our 3 mooching felines. Were none of them suitable for a permanent residency? Did they even try? You know, like cry pitifully outside the door like they do here? Or bring a headless mouse as a sort of work resume'? Why return here? Why, I ask you, why?? How I wish I had a kitty-cam to see how they made it back.

My next game plan is to give them away as a sort of "free gift with purchase:" anyone who comes to visit gets to take home a free cat! No, no, I insist! Yes, it's quite a sacrifice for us, but you're worth it! Please come visit us soon. Please?

Groundhog Day... cat style

So we have this stray cat- okay, so she's been here 2 years and she's no longer a stray, but she started out homeless. And last fall, 2006, she "blessed" us with kittens. 8 kittens. And this was less than 4 months after she had first "blessed" us with 4 kittens. Do the math. 12 kittens within a third of a year. My husband's sister-in-law bestowed mercy upon us and took the first 4 to her farm. Out of the second batch, 4 went to fellow teachers and one went to Mom and Dad. Okay, still doing the math? That leaves 3. Now remember, we still have the momma, whom we got fixed right after batch #2.

Digression ahead: we wanted to get her spayed after batch #1, but she was already preggers with her 8-pack. Back to story.

2nd digression: Keep in mind that we also share our humble abode with 3 dogs and 2 indoor cats and 4 kids. NOW back to the story.

Fast forward to Groundhog Day, 2008. Hubs's first father-in-law tells us, "Sure, you can take those last 3 "kittens" to my farm!" These guys are no longer kittens... they are now 12-pound eating, clawing, and litter-box-filling machines. So we took 2 of the boys (I just had to keep Crooked Jack with the sideways head- another story) and momma Daisy to their new digs.

Remember the movie Groundhog Day, where Bill Murray kept reliving the same events? Well, Groundhog Day is not just a movie anymore. It's the real deal. Because next thing we know, Tater returns. Oi. The Loudmouth. The one I'd least like to see ever again.

And Groundhog Day AGAIN! Joey Oreo-y reappears next. How in the heck do cats do that?? I can't even find my car in the parking lot and they can find their way home after being driven blindly 3 miles away!

Forget "My Lil' Reminder" for $9.99! I can just strap a cat around my neck and never lose my car again!

And why do people pay hundreds of dollars for a Tom-tom? For the price of a bag of Meow Mix and a box of cat litter, you can get a fairly reliable, and warm and fuzzy mind you, navigational device.

In the meantime, I'm waiting for the momma to come home to roost. Then my nightmare will be complete.