Since I don't have all that much to talk about as far as the trip to Memphis is concerned (see Episodes 4 & 5 -Ed), it's back from blog vacation (which mostly involved phoning in blog updates and humorous rants about shoe salesmen) time! Also, it might have to do with the fact that I'm a really lazy blog writer and forgot most of the trip in the thousand days it took me to write this thing. So, to ease you into the transition from hilarious misadventures to my typically solid mediocrity, I present a special feature. And as a bonus, a new interactive portion of the blog. Yes, dear readers, it's time for:
JON'S TOTAL STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS BLOG
First, I think I've hit the point in the Baby Having Experience(tm) where excitement has been bludgeoned to submission by apprehension. I got to thinking the other day that eventually this little bundle of joy and poop will grow up to be a whole, self-sufficient, employed, and hopefully stable (read:non-stabby) human being. But, between those two stages comes the long middle part. The part where he'll be asking me things. A lot of things. Like, "Why is the sky blue?" and, "Why are the goldfish swimming on their backs?" and, "Why does Mommy swear so much when you get home?". Questions that, honestly, I have no real answer to and that certainly will not satisfy a little child's curiosity. I mean, I COULD tell him why the sky is blue (Smurf magic) and where aquatic animals go when they die (the toilet, obviously). But, really, if I tell him those things he'll probably grow up believing that I'm a brilliant man that deserves his praise and respect for my many accolades, super-powers, dashing good looks, killer abs and mean right hook.
Then, he'll hit his teens and discover that it's all been one gigantic lie and wear black clothes, eyeliner, and a long mane of greasy hair while writing bad "introspective" poetry and listening to *cringe* Muse....
(Side note: To all of you who have known me for more than 18 seconds, you know I'm a Guitar Hero fanatic. I love that game. As such, I will NOT be buying GH5. Shocking as that may be, the reason is simple. I had a Facebook update that had screenshots of said game featuring the lead "singer" from Muse as a playable character. I don't really need that level of fail sullying my stalwart PS2, thank you so very much.)
Yes, yes, I know. I'm going to be a wonderful father, and I can't second-guess myself all the time, I have to play it by ear and always do what we think is best for our child and I am an amazing slice of triple chocolate man-cake. I get it.
But, it is a big burden to shoulder. And, I know that tons of people have done this before me. It's hard to wrap my brain around it. Once he gets here though, I'll forget all of this, I'm sure. I'll roll up my sleeves, change some diapers, and get over it.
Aside from my self-indulgent whining, things have been pretty calm here at Chez West. Lily kept us up almost all of last night. First, she got her paws caught in the blanket we had on the bed, and screamed us awake. After we got her out of that debacle, a storm kicked up and she flipped out. Then, she wanted to go outside only to find that *gasp* it was raining (she's a dainty lady and hates having her paws get wet)!
School's started back up for Carly, and my classes start on Monday. Not looking forward to getting back in the classroom, but I need to get this over with and get a degree and a real job so I can support my family and stop being a lazy bum that writes blog entries all day (or fails to, as the case may be).
Finally, on to the interactive portion of the blog! Carly wants to get a pool going of when the baby will be here and how big he will be. Please, write your guess in the response portion of the page. Just click where it says "Comments" and type away! Don't copy guesses and the 4th of October is already taken. In all fairness, the baby is measuring about 34 weeks now and the due date is October 10th. The winner will receive a fabulous prize of absolutely nothing but bragging rights and a temporary feeling of smug superiority! (Please note: these prizes will be null and void if you already have an existing smug feeling of superiority or are French.) Happy random guessing!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Babymoon: Episode 5: The Vegans Strike Back
In our last episode, the evil forces of treats were mightily vanquished by the brave Lily...
Onward to St. Louis! While there, we stopped off and visited some friends and their adorable kids. Then, it's off to lunch at this little pub tucked away near an overpass called O'Connell's.
Sometimes fortune smiles on me in the most devious ways. Such as making me go to a party I really didn't want to go to in the first place and meeting my future wife there. Yes, fate is a tricky mistress. She gives freely, but then asks a lot in return. Case in point:
The special that day just so happened to be the Reuben sandwich. For those that don't know, the Reuben is a corned beef sandwich with sauerkraut and Thousand Island dressing. It is the third most awesome sandwich creation in history (the second being the Monte Cristo sandwich: an amazing creation consisting of a ham sandwich dipped in batter, fried, sprinkled with powdered sugar and served with maple syrup or raspberry sauce. And the most awesome creation being the Luther Burger. This burger is the most awesome thing since Lance Uppercut, the cyborg ninja, traveled to Awesometown to fight the rampaging hordes of dinosaur-riding pirates. It is an Angus burger topped with melted cheese and bacon, served on a sliced and deep fried Krispy Kreme doughnut.) Not only did I eat this marvelous creation, I also finished my fries, Carly's onion rings and part of a Coney Island chili dog.
Needless to say, I was about to burst with fatty meat and grease goodness.
So, as we reached Memphis, we found out a disturbing change in the status quo. My father had gone vegan. No meat, no meat-based products, no dairy, no eggs. On the plus side, he is healthier and I'm thankful for that. We did have a tofu dish with peanut and ginger sauce that was pretty good.
After a few days, Carly and I needed a burger... with real meat. Hopping in the car, we sprinted to Red Robin (yum!). I'm not quite sure how the burgers there qualify as "gourmet" as they claim (there's not a Luther in sight on the menu). Not that it was a bad burger, it just wasn't what the hype claimed it to be.
We visited good friends had a lot of good meals and a good time was had by all.
INTERMISSION:
A True Pharmacy Story.
A mother comes up to the counter with her 4 year old son
Mother: I need something for my son here.
Son: HI!!!
Me: Hi!
Mother: He has diarrhea and we need something that'll work.
Son: Yeah, 'cause I've got the squirts!
Hilarity ensues.
Onward to St. Louis! While there, we stopped off and visited some friends and their adorable kids. Then, it's off to lunch at this little pub tucked away near an overpass called O'Connell's.
Sometimes fortune smiles on me in the most devious ways. Such as making me go to a party I really didn't want to go to in the first place and meeting my future wife there. Yes, fate is a tricky mistress. She gives freely, but then asks a lot in return. Case in point:
The special that day just so happened to be the Reuben sandwich. For those that don't know, the Reuben is a corned beef sandwich with sauerkraut and Thousand Island dressing. It is the third most awesome sandwich creation in history (the second being the Monte Cristo sandwich: an amazing creation consisting of a ham sandwich dipped in batter, fried, sprinkled with powdered sugar and served with maple syrup or raspberry sauce. And the most awesome creation being the Luther Burger. This burger is the most awesome thing since Lance Uppercut, the cyborg ninja, traveled to Awesometown to fight the rampaging hordes of dinosaur-riding pirates. It is an Angus burger topped with melted cheese and bacon, served on a sliced and deep fried Krispy Kreme doughnut.) Not only did I eat this marvelous creation, I also finished my fries, Carly's onion rings and part of a Coney Island chili dog.
Needless to say, I was about to burst with fatty meat and grease goodness.
So, as we reached Memphis, we found out a disturbing change in the status quo. My father had gone vegan. No meat, no meat-based products, no dairy, no eggs. On the plus side, he is healthier and I'm thankful for that. We did have a tofu dish with peanut and ginger sauce that was pretty good.
After a few days, Carly and I needed a burger... with real meat. Hopping in the car, we sprinted to Red Robin (yum!). I'm not quite sure how the burgers there qualify as "gourmet" as they claim (there's not a Luther in sight on the menu). Not that it was a bad burger, it just wasn't what the hype claimed it to be.
We visited good friends had a lot of good meals and a good time was had by all.
INTERMISSION:
A True Pharmacy Story.
A mother comes up to the counter with her 4 year old son
Mother: I need something for my son here.
Son: HI!!!
Me: Hi!
Mother: He has diarrhea and we need something that'll work.
Son: Yeah, 'cause I've got the squirts!
Hilarity ensues.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Babymoon: Episode 4: A New Babymoon
As promised, I've decided to write the next chapter of this blog on the subject of our trip to Memphis. Nominally, it's a nine hour drive down there, cutting across almost the entire state of Missouri before even getting near Tennessee.
However, with a pregnant lady and prone-to-seizure dog in the car, the rules change slightly. Under doctor's orders we had to stop every two hours and Carly had to walk around the car three times minimum. As we left our little home, our spirits were as high as Lily. Sadly, things were about to take a turn for the worst.
We stopped in St. Joseph for some breakfast at the local Perkins and had our first required pit stop. We left Lily in the car with the windows cracked and a cup of water. The dark cloud that followed us into the restaurant foretold of the horrors to come. Our first indication of trouble came when the hostess decided to seat me and my PREGNANT wife near the smoking section. Now, I'm no genius (truthfully, I'm more of a super-genius... Jon West- Super-Genius), but even I know that that is a monumentally bad seating idea. But, I suppose our choices must have been between that or sitting right next to the leaking radioactive missile near the kitchen. And, now that I think about it, if I'm so concerned about my wife's health, why are we eating at Perkins?
In other news, some restaurants still have smoking sections.
Then, Carly orders two eggs cooked over medium and dry toast. At this point, I'd like to say that my culinary knowledge when it comes to eggs is limited to two settings: "scrambled" and "burnt to a crisp". So, it should come as no big shock that I have no idea what "over-medium" means. Thus, when the eggs arrive and Carly takes a look at them at says, "do these look undercooked to you?", my response is to look at them, then her with my most knowledgeable face on and very suavely say, "I dunno, maybe."
This put us at a crossroads. On the one hand, it's a very bad idea to eat undercooked eggs. Especially if you're pregnant. If you do, you might as well just go ahead and inject salmonella right into your belly while singing "What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor" at the top of your lungs (or your choice of favorite sea shanty. Yes, sea shanties work best for that sort of thing. No, I do not have personal experience in this. Oh, the things you can learn on those interwebs).
On the other hand, if we send it back, the odds increase dramatically that it will return to us with extra spit. And who knows what song to sing while eating spit covered eggs?
We opted for the second choice. If the eggs were befouled, there was no trace of it. Luckily, my Mammoth Muffin was awfully tasty.
We head out to the car, the dark cloud following us, and fall upon what can best be described as a massacre. Bits of the victims lay strewn about the crime scene like pieces of broken glass. The grizzly evidence before us told the story of the horrific events that happened. Carly and I were at a loss for words over the gruesome scene.
Lily had found the treats we packed for her. An entire weeks worth of dog treats, snarfed up by one fat little dog. And she's just sitting there like the Queen of the World.
The heavy metaphorical cudgel I've been using to bludgeon you called the dark cloud following us turns into the real thing as we hit the road again. It starts to rain on us and we need to roll the window up. So, we try. And try. And try again. Carly's window won't go up! Stupid car! My theory is that Lily's big fat bottom shorted out the electrical system in her mad dash to engorge herself on ill-gotten gains.
The rain pelted down and as it got worse Carly was getting soaked. And then, during the worst part of the rain, I decided to try the window one more time and.... IT WORKED. For no good reason, the darn thing rolled up, saving Carly from 9 more hours of drenching ickyness. Someone was looking out for us...
I also learned that my mutant power is making the rain stop for short periods of time. Of course, it really only works when we pass under an overpass, but every power has limitations.
Lily was banished to the back seat for most of the trip.
In our next episode: Vegans, burgers, and flip-flops! It's Episode 5!
We stopped in St. Joseph for some breakfast at the local Perkins and had our first required pit stop. We left Lily in the car with the windows cracked and a cup of water. The dark cloud that followed us into the restaurant foretold of the horrors to come. Our first indication of trouble came when the hostess decided to seat me and my PREGNANT wife near the smoking section. Now, I'm no genius (truthfully, I'm more of a super-genius... Jon West- Super-Genius), but even I know that that is a monumentally bad seating idea. But, I suppose our choices must have been between that or sitting right next to the leaking radioactive missile near the kitchen. And, now that I think about it, if I'm so concerned about my wife's health, why are we eating at Perkins?
In other news, some restaurants still have smoking sections.
Then, Carly orders two eggs cooked over medium and dry toast. At this point, I'd like to say that my culinary knowledge when it comes to eggs is limited to two settings: "scrambled" and "burnt to a crisp". So, it should come as no big shock that I have no idea what "over-medium" means. Thus, when the eggs arrive and Carly takes a look at them at says, "do these look undercooked to you?", my response is to look at them, then her with my most knowledgeable face on and very suavely say, "I dunno, maybe."
This put us at a crossroads. On the one hand, it's a very bad idea to eat undercooked eggs. Especially if you're pregnant. If you do, you might as well just go ahead and inject salmonella right into your belly while singing "What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor" at the top of your lungs (or your choice of favorite sea shanty. Yes, sea shanties work best for that sort of thing. No, I do not have personal experience in this. Oh, the things you can learn on those interwebs).
On the other hand, if we send it back, the odds increase dramatically that it will return to us with extra spit. And who knows what song to sing while eating spit covered eggs?
We opted for the second choice. If the eggs were befouled, there was no trace of it. Luckily, my Mammoth Muffin was awfully tasty.
We head out to the car, the dark cloud following us, and fall upon what can best be described as a massacre. Bits of the victims lay strewn about the crime scene like pieces of broken glass. The grizzly evidence before us told the story of the horrific events that happened. Carly and I were at a loss for words over the gruesome scene.
Lily had found the treats we packed for her. An entire weeks worth of dog treats, snarfed up by one fat little dog. And she's just sitting there like the Queen of the World.
The heavy metaphorical cudgel I've been using to bludgeon you called the dark cloud following us turns into the real thing as we hit the road again. It starts to rain on us and we need to roll the window up. So, we try. And try. And try again. Carly's window won't go up! Stupid car! My theory is that Lily's big fat bottom shorted out the electrical system in her mad dash to engorge herself on ill-gotten gains.
The rain pelted down and as it got worse Carly was getting soaked. And then, during the worst part of the rain, I decided to try the window one more time and.... IT WORKED. For no good reason, the darn thing rolled up, saving Carly from 9 more hours of drenching ickyness. Someone was looking out for us...
I also learned that my mutant power is making the rain stop for short periods of time. Of course, it really only works when we pass under an overpass, but every power has limitations.
Lily was banished to the back seat for most of the trip.
In our next episode: Vegans, burgers, and flip-flops! It's Episode 5!
Friday, July 24, 2009
Big news!
We went to see the doctor today for our baby check up. He said everything was fine and Carly and the baby are healthy. So stop panicking. This is good news.
After taking a look at the ultrasound, we found out something amazing. It seems that our baby girl... actually has a penis.
That's right. We're having a boy! So, stow or return all that pink stuff you bought us (I know you did) because the Wests are having a baby boy!
This is a big mind blower for me. I was so ready to have a girl (not that I'm not thrilled to have a boy). I don't really know what to do with a baby boy (not that I had a clue what to do with a baby girl). I do feel extra proud that I'm going to have a son (not that I didn't feel proud, yadda yadda). He shall be a strapping young lad; rugged, like his father, and strong willed, like his mother. He shall be strong, fast, agile. He shall be smart, confident, and smooth with the ladies (gets that part from me... How you doin'?). He shall be honest and brave. He shall be Levon. He shall be a good man. But, most importantly, he shall love Star Wars!
Now, I know what you're thinking: "Jon? Where can I get leather pants in my size at this hour?"
Good question. Yes, I am excited and scared. The gravity of the situation hit me the other day. I'm going to be responsible for the upbringing of another human being. His entire existence is thanks to me and Carly and how he becomes a dashing young man (in the image of his handsome father) is almost entirely dependent on how we raise him. He'll learn his morals from us (and the Bible. Yay, God!). He'll learn how to walk and eat and perform complicated mathematical equations from us. He'll ask for help from us on the Dewey decimal system. It's a lot of responsibility.
We'll be leaving for Memphis for about a week for a second babymoon. Now, if you're good and behave while we're gone, you just might get a second trilogy out of the deal...
BABYMOON: Episodes 4, 5, and 6? Maybe coming soon.
Oh, and I'll have pictures up soon of the ultrasound.
P.S. When I submitted this blog the first time, the ad that popped up right along side the confirmation page said "Will you have a boy or girl? Take this quiz and find out!"
Too late, Mr. Wants My Information Advertisement. Too late, sir.
After taking a look at the ultrasound, we found out something amazing. It seems that our baby girl... actually has a penis.
That's right. We're having a boy! So, stow or return all that pink stuff you bought us (I know you did) because the Wests are having a baby boy!
This is a big mind blower for me. I was so ready to have a girl (not that I'm not thrilled to have a boy). I don't really know what to do with a baby boy (not that I had a clue what to do with a baby girl). I do feel extra proud that I'm going to have a son (not that I didn't feel proud, yadda yadda). He shall be a strapping young lad; rugged, like his father, and strong willed, like his mother. He shall be strong, fast, agile. He shall be smart, confident, and smooth with the ladies (gets that part from me... How you doin'?). He shall be honest and brave. He shall be Levon. He shall be a good man. But, most importantly, he shall love Star Wars!
Now, I know what you're thinking: "Jon? Where can I get leather pants in my size at this hour?"
Good question. Yes, I am excited and scared. The gravity of the situation hit me the other day. I'm going to be responsible for the upbringing of another human being. His entire existence is thanks to me and Carly and how he becomes a dashing young man (in the image of his handsome father) is almost entirely dependent on how we raise him. He'll learn his morals from us (and the Bible. Yay, God!). He'll learn how to walk and eat and perform complicated mathematical equations from us. He'll ask for help from us on the Dewey decimal system. It's a lot of responsibility.
We'll be leaving for Memphis for about a week for a second babymoon. Now, if you're good and behave while we're gone, you just might get a second trilogy out of the deal...
BABYMOON: Episodes 4, 5, and 6? Maybe coming soon.
Oh, and I'll have pictures up soon of the ultrasound.
P.S. When I submitted this blog the first time, the ad that popped up right along side the confirmation page said "Will you have a boy or girl? Take this quiz and find out!"
Too late, Mr. Wants My Information Advertisement. Too late, sir.
Friday, July 17, 2009
It's been a trying time at Chez West
Ok. So, this may now be the most requested blog I've ever had. You guys are ruthless!
First, Lily is doing fine. She's slowly returning to her usual self (i.e. awesome). Her stumbling has gotten better, so she's no longer Stumblily McGee. Her medication made her a little loopy, but now she's wooing and snorting and always excited to see us again!
Second, Carly's phone is working once again. Words cannot express my deep loathing for AT&T.
But, I'm going to try. AT&T is an evil, corrupt entity that belongs in the darkest pit of Hades.
My bank sent a check to them on the 19th of June. They disconneted our service soon after saying we didn't make the payment. No late fee, no nasty note, no nothing. Just, "Oops, you didn't pay us. DIE, MAGGOT!!! YOUR PHONE'S SOUL IS OURS NOW!!! (dramatization)".
So, I called them. From my phone. Because they ate Carly's phone as a side dish with their daily feast of small children and the tears of the innocent. They reactivated our service and told me that all I had to do was send in a copy of my bank statement showing the payment and all would be forgiven. So I did.
Two weeks later: "RRRRAAAUUUGGHHH!!! NO PAYMENT!! WE FEAST ON YOUR SUFFERING!!! (artist's rendition)"
Today, I called them again. Now they want a copy of my cancelled check. So, I'll fax it in tomorrow. Maybe next they'll want blood. And my death.
Third, Carly called me today at work, crying. She had been nauseous all day and was hurting in her hips, her back, her chest, her stomach, and was crampy almost all over. She called our doctor and then the OB department of the local hospital (which is 2 blocks away).
Then I get the call. "I'm going to the hospital. Can you get off work and come with me?" My very awesome co-workers told me to just go. So, I made a mad dash to the hospital, 30 miles away.
When I got there, they had her in a bed, hooked up to a lot of machines with boops and bleeps and an IV drip and that thing on the finger that I think measures husband's anxiety levels. The nurse said that she was mostly dehydrated and the IV was replenshing her fluids. She said everything was looking good: the baby was fine and squrmy (she had a hard time getting a reading on the heart rate), Carly was healthy and as far as they could tell, nothing was wrong. Except for that pain. They ruled out early labor and did a fantastic job calming my fears.
The final issue was that she was craving the Mexican food yesterday afternoon and last night when we went to see Harry Potter (it's awesome, by the way). Now, you may be saying, "But, Jon, you impressive specimen of manhood, why won't you return my phone calls? Oh, and what does Mexican food have to do with anything, you stud? (call me)"
The gallbladder is quite the interesting organ. One of it's duties is to release bile produced by the liver when the digestive tract has fat present. If you've had too much fat in your diet from, say, Mexican food, your gallbladder may not be able keep up. Then you hurt.
This is what has happened to Carly, we think. It's common in pregnant women, and it will probably go away when the baby comes. So, for now, we now have to try and keep a low fat diet and she needs to rest a lot. To her credit, she's been the one of the most pleasant pregant women that I've ever seen. No weird cravings, no unbearable mood swings.
Now that my two favorite girls are on their way back to good health, Lily's been a little protective of Carly. Case in point: The above picture.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Lily's had it ruff...
Last night, around 4AM, I was peacefully sleeping. As I stood there, laughing at my vanquished foes and looking amazingly ripped in my barbarian garb, a voice called out to me from the ether. "Jon," it said faintly as I hefted my broadsword. "Jon..." a little louder this time. How can a person cleanse the moors of my foes and hear the lamentations of their women with all this noise? "Jon! Wake up, now! Get in here!" said the now panic stricken voice.
Carly was screaming from the other room. Snatching my broadsword... glasses from the bedside table and vaulting over the pile of baby stuff in my way like an Olympic hopeful, I sprinted to the living room. Both Carly and Lily were on the floor, Lily in the midst of a seizure, her legs straight out in front of her, breathing heavily, Carly on the verge of tears. I ran to them, found my phone and told Carly to call the emergency vet line while I held Lily. My main concern was keeping Lily safe, meanwhile making sure Carly didn't go any more hysterical. Lily was unresponsive and I could see she was petrified scared and foaming a bit around the edges of her mouth. Eventually, she started to come back around, slowing gaining control of her muscles. The worst part, aside from the stomach-churning feeling of utter helplessness, was watching her blindly trying to stand up in the middle of her seizure. She was on her belly, her little back legs straight out, trying to get her front paws under her. Slowly, painfully, she managed to get to to a crouch, looked around at me, and her tail started to wag rapidly. She recognized me and was coming around.
The vet told us to watch her and she if she did it again. She slept the rest of the night/morning and seemed fine for most of the day. I was at work, so I can't report on what happened during those hours (pester Carly for a blog!!!) but at dinner, she had another one. We've got her on aspirin 81mg (vet's orders) and we're still keeping an eye on her. Carly's sleeping on the couch, and I've taken to sleeping on the floor right next to her near Lily. It's no Holiday Inn, but I've had worse. It's a good thing I can sleep just about anywhere.
As far as baby stuff goes (bet you thought I'd forgotten the name of this blog), momma and baby are doing fine, if a little scared. I did see the baby move a few times. She's been pushing on Carly's stomach and bladder, so she's a little miserable. I fine too, if anyone cares. I know my place in the pecking order...
Carly was screaming from the other room. Snatching my broadsword... glasses from the bedside table and vaulting over the pile of baby stuff in my way like an Olympic hopeful, I sprinted to the living room. Both Carly and Lily were on the floor, Lily in the midst of a seizure, her legs straight out in front of her, breathing heavily, Carly on the verge of tears. I ran to them, found my phone and told Carly to call the emergency vet line while I held Lily. My main concern was keeping Lily safe, meanwhile making sure Carly didn't go any more hysterical. Lily was unresponsive and I could see she was petrified scared and foaming a bit around the edges of her mouth. Eventually, she started to come back around, slowing gaining control of her muscles. The worst part, aside from the stomach-churning feeling of utter helplessness, was watching her blindly trying to stand up in the middle of her seizure. She was on her belly, her little back legs straight out, trying to get her front paws under her. Slowly, painfully, she managed to get to to a crouch, looked around at me, and her tail started to wag rapidly. She recognized me and was coming around.
The vet told us to watch her and she if she did it again. She slept the rest of the night/morning and seemed fine for most of the day. I was at work, so I can't report on what happened during those hours (pester Carly for a blog!!!) but at dinner, she had another one. We've got her on aspirin 81mg (vet's orders) and we're still keeping an eye on her. Carly's sleeping on the couch, and I've taken to sleeping on the floor right next to her near Lily. It's no Holiday Inn, but I've had worse. It's a good thing I can sleep just about anywhere.
As far as baby stuff goes (bet you thought I'd forgotten the name of this blog), momma and baby are doing fine, if a little scared. I did see the baby move a few times. She's been pushing on Carly's stomach and bladder, so she's a little miserable. I fine too, if anyone cares. I know my place in the pecking order...
Friday, July 3, 2009
Doggy Medication
Ahhh, the Fourth of July.
Our Independence Day.
The day we celebrate our nation's birth by searing dead animals and blowing things up. It's the last part that makes the holiday so rough around Chez West. Our wonderful dog Lily, who is just the best thing since bread decided to come to my house in evenly distributed pieces, is afraid of loud noises, like bangs or thunderclaps.
Which is all we get this time of year. So, when we recently went to the vet to have her semi-whenever-we-remember check up, we asked the vet about how we can calm her down.
During the check up, she was subjected to all sorts of humiliations. And if it's any indication as to how I'm going to be as a father, the answer is: not so great. I felt uncomfortable as he took her temperature. I couldn't watch as he gave her her vaccinations. I cringed as he took a blood sample. I was on edge as the heartworm test came back (negative, thank goodness). I almost fell asleep as the vet spoke to us in one of the most monotone voices I've ever heard. And this is a dog, for crying out loud, not even a human! Not even my daughter!
He gave us some pills to give to her whenever we think she's going to have a rough night. Some doggy downers if you will. She took one last night. It was heartbreaking. The poor dog had no light in her eyes, she stumbled around, and could barely keep her head up. It broke my heart. But, on the bright side, I did get to try out my "stoned Lily" voice. Oh, yes, the dog talks to us.
I would be remiss if I failed to mention the passing of an icon. His performances enthralled millions and brought joy to their hearts. He was underappreciated in my opinion for most of his career, but his ability and passion was never questioned. His work defined a generation.
And it's with a heavy heart, that this blog post is dedicated to him.
An Ode to Billy Mays:
Your yelling made it easy
For us to get to know
The wonderful magic
That is Orange-Glo.
30 second spots
Gave us time to glean,
All the stain fighting power
Of Oxi-Clean
But that short time here
gave us little room
to judge for ourselves
the strength of Kaboom
So, goodnight, Billy Mays
Your passing left our hearts rended,
But, we can fix it
With a dab of Mighty Mendit.
Our Independence Day.
The day we celebrate our nation's birth by searing dead animals and blowing things up. It's the last part that makes the holiday so rough around Chez West. Our wonderful dog Lily, who is just the best thing since bread decided to come to my house in evenly distributed pieces, is afraid of loud noises, like bangs or thunderclaps.
Which is all we get this time of year. So, when we recently went to the vet to have her semi-whenever-we-remember check up, we asked the vet about how we can calm her down.
During the check up, she was subjected to all sorts of humiliations. And if it's any indication as to how I'm going to be as a father, the answer is: not so great. I felt uncomfortable as he took her temperature. I couldn't watch as he gave her her vaccinations. I cringed as he took a blood sample. I was on edge as the heartworm test came back (negative, thank goodness). I almost fell asleep as the vet spoke to us in one of the most monotone voices I've ever heard. And this is a dog, for crying out loud, not even a human! Not even my daughter!
He gave us some pills to give to her whenever we think she's going to have a rough night. Some doggy downers if you will. She took one last night. It was heartbreaking. The poor dog had no light in her eyes, she stumbled around, and could barely keep her head up. It broke my heart. But, on the bright side, I did get to try out my "stoned Lily" voice. Oh, yes, the dog talks to us.
I would be remiss if I failed to mention the passing of an icon. His performances enthralled millions and brought joy to their hearts. He was underappreciated in my opinion for most of his career, but his ability and passion was never questioned. His work defined a generation.
And it's with a heavy heart, that this blog post is dedicated to him.
An Ode to Billy Mays:
Your yelling made it easy
For us to get to know
The wonderful magic
That is Orange-Glo.
30 second spots
Gave us time to glean,
All the stain fighting power
Of Oxi-Clean
But that short time here
gave us little room
to judge for ourselves
the strength of Kaboom
So, goodnight, Billy Mays
Your passing left our hearts rended,
But, we can fix it
With a dab of Mighty Mendit.
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