But into every life a little rain must fall

Queen -- Rain Must Fall -- 1989



Fang is home, basking in the love. His fix was a minor one. A fuel pump. He was being starved of the very nutrients that propelled him through life. Now, he is quenching his thirst for petrol, zipping along the highway of the Princess' life with nary a care.

To the tune of 465 dollars.

Ah, well. It could have been much worse.



And then it was.


A few weeks ago, one of my little female rescue dogs, Annie


hurt her knee. It was no big surprise. She and my other rescue arrived with a knee condition that is known to the breed........and is especially prevalent in dogs bred by unscrupulous, money-grubbing scum. So when Annie partially tore her ACL, it came as no surprise. Her knees can be manually dislocated with just the slightest pressure.

We followed the protocol set out by the Vet and , remarkably, she has healed with no remaining symptoms. After all we have been through with Sadie, we are grateful for every dodged bullet.

So, when I was playing with the Poodles in the backyard last week, I was carefully watching the girls lest they get too wound up and injure themselves. I never gave the boys a thought. They are both from breeders. Well put together. Healthy.

Then I heard the scream. A scream of pain. I assumed it was Sadie because, well, to put it kindly, Sadie is a friggin' shrieker. But it wasn't Sadie. It was Willie. My Mini male.



Willie is typically a boy of leisure, but sometimes he likes a rousing game of fetch with Trevor. Somehow, he turned or torqued or tripped while he was getting ready to run. As I turned my head to pinpoint the shriek, I saw Willie toppling over into the grass. He couldn't bear weight on his rear left leg.

At his Vet visit, they diagnosed a partially ruptured ACL.........exactly the same as Annie. So we followed the same protocol with him. It was no big deal. Annie had healed without a problem. As would Willie.

We went for a follow up visit last night. 10 days after the injury.

His knee is worse. Now that the swelling has dissipated, there is no cartilage holding his knee in place, so every time he bends it, the knee dislocates. It needs to be surgically repaired. Next Friday.


I am sick over this. While I know he will be fine, I had always counted on the fact that he and Trevor were my 2 healthy dogs. I am always vigilant about the health of all 5, but I worry less about Willie and Trevor because they had much better beginnings than the girls. They have good breeding and good genetics on their side. The girls got none of that.

And now Willie needs to be put back together. They are calling me with the estimate today, but they expect it to be in the range of 750 to 900 dollars.

To recap...............

In 2 weeks time:

Water heater - 895.00

Princess' car - 465.00

Willie's knee - 750.00 - 900.00

Let's not even consider the 5,000.00 for the roof just 4 months ago.



Does anyone know the going rate for a black market kidney? How about a lung? Arm?



Does anyone have a sharp scalpel?

I got no car and it’s breaking my heart

The Beatles -- Drive My Car -- 1965



No, not me. The Princess.

Her car is dead. Fang. That's his name. Fang.

DEAD.

The Princess luuuuuvs her some Fang. Aside from his color, Fang is her dream car. Her very first car. As a matter of fact, the Princess had Fang before she had a license.

Thanks to the HM.


As we have established, I grew up in relative poverty. Times with no electricity, sometimes no heat, often no money for anything " extra". I was pregnant at 17, a mother by 18. My daughter grew up in a better situation than me, thanks to the HM, but financially, there was never any cushion. We worked for every penny and squeezed them hard.

By the time the Princess was a teenager, she was attending a very prestigious college preparatory high school. A BIG MONEY school. On a financial scholarship because of her grades and work ethic. There was an ENORMOUS financial disparity between the Princess and the majority of her classmates. Mostly, she was ignorant of the differences, whether by choice or by virtue of being busy and challenged by the curriculum. She never seemed to care.

She also never cared much about getting her driver's license. The school provided a bus. She had a part-time job in a video store very close to our house. There wasn't much need to drive. She did manage to get a learner's permit, but never had any need to go much further than that.

The Princess had always loved Volkswagen Beetles. Many people in our family had owned the original versions in the 60's and 70's, so our photographic history was peppered with shots of Irish relatives beaming inside German cars.

From the times she was little, something about their round, cheerful, sweet nature appealed to the Princess. When she was 15, Volkswagen announced that they were releasing the New Beetle. The Princess followed the evolution with great interest. She had little New Beetle pictures in her room. She daydreamed about owning one when she was older and had enough money to buy a car. She knew she wanted one in red.





As she approached her senior year of high school, the HM began to talk to me about wishing that she could get the Princess a car. About how she often felt she had failed me in my childhood by not having enough to provide for any luxuries. About how she wanted it to be different for her only grandchild. About that same time, the HM and I were driving on a main thoroughfare near our house and spotted a used New Beetle in a car lot. For sale. It was white.






We never spoke a word about it. We both knew there was simply no way to afford it, no matter the cost.

One week later, I was sitting at work and my phone rang. It was the HM. She blithely informed me that she had taken herself to the bank, secured a loan and bought the little white Beetle for the Princess. I was stunned. I tried to argue with her, and she adamantly stated " I was never able to do this for you. I did it for her because I wanted to. Let me be happy about it".

We never told the Princess. We parked her car in our neighbor's garage. I cleaned and detailed it. The HM made a giant bow for the top. We picked a Friday afternoon to surprise her. Several family members came over. We made up an excuse to send the Princess inside, pulled the car into the driveway, attached the bow to the top, readied the camera and called her out.

Her face when she opened the front door was priceless. She was beyond shocked. Giddy with excitement. Disbelieving. I snapped a picture of her sitting in the front seat of her new car. It is still one of my all-time favorites to this day. She is beaming with joy, happiness and pride.

She got her license that summer.

Since that time, she and Fang have had a mutual love relationship. She simply adores that car. She often remarks that there are not many people who have the car of their dreams given to them before they ever have a license. Fang has been a great little car. He is great on gas mileage, has needed the bare minimum in repairs and is easy to care for. He has provided her with freedom. He leveled the playing field for her during her final year of high school.......a bit. He may not have been a Mercedes or Audi like so many of her classmates, but he was hers and she was terribly proud to drive him to that campus every day.

In college, he allowed her to make money babysitting for the local families in her community. She drove all over Westchester County in Fang.

Now that she is living back in Connecticut, he faithfully ferries her to work everyday. He often takes her on trips to Long Island to see Lumpkin. He has helped move belongings from home to apartment. He has taken her on day trips to see what our little state has to offer. When she is lonely, he drives her home to her family.

He has been everything a new owner would hope for.

Then, suddenly, yesterday.......he died. He simply would not start. No matter what we tried. We had to have him towed to our local mechanic as the Princess and I followed behind the tow truck. The Princess was very subdued and admitted that it was sad for her to witness Fang's downfall. I assured her, hoping against my own fading hopes, that he would be fine. It was probably something simple to fix, I told her.

The reality is, Fang is 10 years old already. Although he only has 53 thousand miles on his engine, age begins to speed the deterioration process. He is a machine, and machines wear out over time.


So today we wait. For the news. I am hoping, for the Princess' sake, it's good news and Fang will be road worthy with a few twists of a wrench and some new parts. I think if the news is bad, the Princess will truly be heartbroken. Although he is only a car, Fang has been so much more to her over these past 6 years.

Plus.......................................................





WE ARE ALL FRICKIN' BROKE!!!!!!!



Help us out, oh Juju god of German engineering. Hear our desperate pleas and return Fang to a state of equilibrium.

And make it cheap.


TYVM.

Nothing but good times on your mind

Roll With It -- Steve Winwood -- 1988



Take him:




Her:



Him:



Me:



And a can of this:



and you have a rollicking good Easter Sunday.



Not that way, you pack of perverts!



After we were done with our holiday dinner, I let the Poodles into the dining room. I had left them in the kitchen behind the baby gate while we ate. Somehow, the Princess got it into her head that we should treat the Poodles to a delicious desert as it was a holiday. I am normally extremely strict about their diet, but I agreed to let her treat them.

Her idea???

Spray some Reddi-Whip onto the top of Trevor's nose to see what he would do.

Trevor was NOT AMUSED! He turned in circles, he tried to swipe at his nose with his paws. He even tried to wipe his nose onto the top of Willie's hair. It took several attempts before he tried to devise a plan that worked.

Needless to say, our dining room was a din of laughter. Lumpkin laughed so hard he almost choked, Princess had tears in her eyes. I was out of breath from laughing so hard.

When Trevor finally uncrossed his eyes long enough to realize that he could lick the Reddi-Whip off his nose, he was nearly ecstatic with pride. And a sugar high.

Lather, rinse, repeat with the 4 little Poodles.



If I am honest, I must admit that we actually had a nice Easter. Lumpkin included.

He is still a moron. Lazy and odd. But, he enjoyed himself, the Princess had a ball, the Poodles LOVED the company, and the HM got to host an Easter shebang that rivaled the cooking at the White House. The pre-Bush White House. We don't eat roadkill for holidays. Or bits of Cheney.

It was a good day, and I was glad when it ended mercifully fast. I was on my very best behavior, so I was exhausted when they left.

Lumpkin goes back home today and the Princess goes back to work tomorrow.

I am still trying to shake off my sugar coma. Trevor is not the only one to master the Reddi-Whip- on- the- nose -trick.



Good times, people. Good times.

You, you are my pride and joy

And a love like mine, yeah baby is something nobody can ever destroy -- Pride and Joy -- Marvin Gaye -- 1963






We have a new arrival at our house. I have kept this news under wraps because it really has been both exciting and stressful. I didn't want to say too much until we were certain it would turn out well.

He came into our world on March 17th. Saint Patrick's Day. He arrived earlier than expected, but we were overjoyed nonetheless. The labor began at about 1 in the afternoon. It was relatively short, with the hard labor only lasting a few hours. We didn't have much time to prepare for such a quick delivery, but there were lots of professionals there to help.

When he was finally here, we were all ecstatic. He was big, but beautiful. From the moment he joined us, he has been a true joy. Easy to care for, quiet and calm. And, did I mention beautiful?



Our lives felt complete.





So, without further adeiu, named appropriately in honor of the day he was born, I would like to introduce my Blogger friends to Patrick:

Isn't he just perfect?????????

What is my reaction, what should it be?...........

Confronted by this latest atrocity -- The Police -- Driven To Tears -- 1979





Snippet of intelligent banter last week at the Casa De Avalon....................................................


Heat Miser: Did you notice that there's rust on the hot water heater?

Me: Nope.

HM: Well, there is.

Me: I wonder why?

HM: I dunno. It's old.

Me: This does not sound good. Where's the rust?

HM: Near the top.

Me: I'd better go take a look.


Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump


Me: ( yelling from the basement) Yep, it's rusty!

HM:( yelling to the basement from the kitchen) I thought so. When our income taxes come in, I'll have to call the plumber!




Snippet of intelligent conversation this past Saturday at the Casa De Avalon.....................................


HM: I think the hot water heater is leaking.

Me: Why?

HM: Because there's water on the floor under it.

Me: Oh, shit! A lot?

HM: No, not much.

Me: I'd better go take a look.


Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump


Me: ( yelling from basement) Yep, it's leaking! Fucker!!!!!

HM: ( yelling to the basement from the Living Room) Maybe I better call the plumber!

Me: Yep, that's a good idea! Hey, do ya' think it will explode?

HM: I dunno. Better get away from it!


Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump


Me: You better ask the plumber if we should shut off the main. Hey, how are we going to take showers??? I can't go to work tomorrow without a shower. By then, I'll be 2 days worth of stink!!!!

HM: Don't worry. Just bring in a loaf of my Irish Bread and no one will notice.



So, Happy Saint Patrick's day to all. May your water heater be blessed with a long life, and may your co-workers smell of Caraway seeds.

I want a doctor to take your picture so I can look at you from inside as well

The Vapors -- Turning Japanese-- 1980



I finally had the Ultrasound today. It had to be rescheduled from last week. They said my doctor would call me with the results, so I don't know anything more than before. The UTI has apparently cleared up, and along with it went the nausea.

The next indignity will be my very first Mammogram. I work at the same hospital where it will be done, so I called the radiology department from my desk to schedule the appointment. All of our phones have caller ID, so they could clearly see that it was a co-worker placing the call. For the past 2 years, our facility has put a giant onus on customer service. One of the things that was repeatedly cited was the habit of staff allowing phones to ring, and when calls were finally answered, placing the callers on hold. They have put several measures into place to prevent this from happening.

It took me 4 attempts to even get anyone to answer, and when they did, I was repeatedly placed on hold for a total of 7 minutes.

Strong work.

Aside from that, I don't have shit to say. The Poodles are groomed, the job still sucks, Lumpkin is coming here for Easter and his parents are mad.

I applied for another interesting job. My new cell phone......3 weeks old.....died an undignified death and took ALL of my stored information with it. AT&T replaced the phone. They couldn't help with the info.

We may get a new couch.

My hair is getting shaggy.

I need to vacuum.

I have been dreaming about former co-workers.

My car needs to be washed.

I am sick of my red sweater.

I can't connect my video camera to my laptop.

Maisie and Annie have an appointment for vaccinations.

and

Today, I wanted to drive away from a work assignment and not come back....................................

A broom is drearily sweeping up the broken pieces of yesterday's life

Jimi Hendrix -- The Wind Cries Mary -- 1967


I was the first person to hold you after you were born aside from your Mom and Dad. We had all waited anxiously for your birth. By that time, your Mom had become more than just a cousin in-law. She was my friend. Your older brother was the first baby in our family after many years, and had been lavished with love and attention. He was very easy to love.

Before your birth, your Mom had confided to me that she was afraid she could never love you as much as she loved him. I assured her it would happen. We would all love you. So when you came along on that cold March morning, I was thrilled to sneak out of my department and make my way up to the maternity unit. There you lay, calm but alert. You radiated warmth, and the promise of all things new and innocent.

As you grew, you and I developed a special relationship. Although you were my cousin's child, you were more like a favorite niece to me. I adored your stubbornness. I reveled in your flair for drama no matter the situation. I marveled at your intelligence. You flourished in the light of the attention I gave you. Soon enough, you were "my girl". You learned how to talk on the phone so you could call me. You begged your Mom to come over so we could spend the day together, and then promptly sent her back home without you.

We did crafts, we rented movies. We went to museums and parks and fairs. I taught you how to swim in my backyard pool. We took long walks together....you in your stroller that I bought special when you outgrew your first one, me pushing and answering your endless curiosities. We set up a giant tent in the living room to have a "girl party" sleepover. We packed up our snacks, our radio and our puppy and we camped out in the backyard. Instead of being afraid of the dark, you were fascinated by it.

You were a part of my heart.

I attended your gymnastics classes, your pre-school Christmas pageant, every one of your birthday parties. I hand-created the special birthday cakes you chose from my collection of cake books. On your first day of " real school", I arranged for the morning off of work to stand with your Mom and watch you bravely get on the school bus. After the bus pulled away, I sat in my car and cried.

We were best ' girlfriends", you and I. You had your own set of sunglasses in my Jeep, so when the nice weather came, we took the top off, strapped you into your booster seat and drove around in the sun. You waved to people as we passed and tried to grab the leaves of the trees rushing past us, your pigtails caught in the wind.

When your baby sister came, I tried even harder to make certain you got the attention you needed. I never went more than 2 days without talking to you. Your Mom was sometimes overwhelmed with 3 small children, a husband who worked long hours and none of her own family nearby. We went to your house many evenings to share in your "dance parties". It gave your Mom a chance to relax and join in the fun. You would come downstairs in your best flowing nighties, your dress-up high heels and we would turn on the music and dance. Sometimes you would sing along with the songs. When it was over, you would beg me to promise that I would come back again. I always did.

Then, suddenly, everything among the adults went wrong. You, your brother and sister became the victims. We were no longer allowed to see you again. After 6 years of being "best girlfriends", you were gone. I was haunted by the idea that I had broken my promise to you. I had not come back.

Today you are 11, a girl on her way to becoming a young lady. I know that you have a new step-mom and step sibling, and I also know that there is a new baby in your family. I hope you have handled all of those changes with your typical stubbornness. I hope that your new family has brought some security back to your life. I hope you are happy.

But most of all, I hope, deep down in the recesses of your heart and mind, you know that you were not forgotten. You never will be.

Happy 11th birthday Meagan. I miss you.

Lips are dry, throat is dry. Feel like burning, stomach churning.

In The Cage -- Genesis -- 1974



****************COMMENCE THE WHINING*******************




Job sucks. Hard.

Belly hurts. Bad.

Have UTI. Big.

Nausea from meds. Bigger.

Ultrasound on Friday. Scary.






Nothing else to say. Tough.