Marching Orders - Week 4 (and other stuff too)

We have our fourth week marching orders. YAY!! Noodlehead's going to be thrilled. I know I am. By the way, that picture is of Nick working sheep at about 7 months old, taken by Julie Poudrier. We were working her unbroke Tunis ewes out in her back yard at the time. See? He's always had some long legs!

Starting today we're supposed to do two 20 minute sessions of trotting/loping daily for the next week. Still no playing with other dogs, and he (the doc) wants me to avoid sudden stops and starts, lying down and getting up, and all of that. If I can seperate the sessions by several hours (ie morning and evening) then we do 2 x 20. If timing is such that I have to do both sessions in the evening (ie 5pm and 9pm) then I'm to do 10 and 20.

He said I can do this at home in the back yard (yep, the Noodle likes to trot the perimeter of the *cough* yard, so we can do that) or out in a pasture with no stock. Consider yourselves warned, Julie and CR, as you'll probably be seeing a good bit of me over the next week or two. The doc said he'd like to see Nick back to regular work within the next 2-3 weeks.

Wanna know what this means? We're done with walks around the neighborhood for the most part. This also means I'll probably be spending some ga$ to get Nick places, but I'm really, truly OK with that. I'll do that just to avoid being drugthugafroguy, weirdguy and scarydog lunch.

Woot!!!

Speaking of drugthugafroguy and scarydog (the two are not related) Nick and I are doing OK. Thank you all for the wonderful support you've all given me. The comments have been awesome and supportive. I've not had time to respond to each and every one as I wish I could, but know that they were each read and appreciated. Nick has relaxed back to almost normal while walking, and though we're both very jumpy we're not looking over our shoulders as much.

I have to say in all honesty that yesterday was hard. The fear was ruling me, and I couldn't think of anything else really. I bailed on cooking CR dinner (sorry babe) and although I did get the house cleaned some I was basically worthless. I still haven't cried - and I'm not sure if that's just the way it is, or if I'm subconsciously bottling it up and storing it in order to unleash it at some inappropriate moment... complete with squeaky seal noises and snot running down my face. I'll probably call Julie if that happens as she seems to be the lucky recipient of those types of calls from me.

Today is better. Today I'm able to appreciate that everything DID in fact turn out good considering. I didn't even think about it until I was getting out of the shower this morning, and even then my thought was, "Holy Cow! I haven't even thought about "The Incident" this morning. Yay ME". Today I've thought about it much less. I won't walk him without a stock stick or ball bat ever again though - not in our existing neighborhood. I'd walk him carrying a golf club, but as CR pointed out my clubs are at his house. Oopsie! Nevermind the fact that I have horrid aim.

Nick has developed a new annoying quirk though... as soon as we walk out the front door he lets out a bark. From what I can gather it's his pre-emptive toughdog gotohellscarydogs bark. Just one bark. One loud bark in my ear, really, since the houses are situated in such a way that sound travels like being in an empty cavern. I figure in a few days it'll get old and he'll be unable to resist the siren song of the bush next to the stoop, and abandon his onebark serenade.

We're both SO ready to get back to business. Linc has some work lined up for the weekend, though, so that'll be fun. I'm going to make dinner for CR tonight, and do our therapy for the evening out there. Thank God.

Lastly I leave you with one completely unrelated thought. It wouldn't be one of my blogs without an unrelated thought somewhere, right? Anyway, I was watching our landscaper dudes a few minutes ago and came up with the PERFECT name for a landscaping company. If it were me I'd call it, "Two Fat Bald Guys and a Garden Hoe".

What??

We Are OK.

Just thought I'd go on and say that - We are OK. Just to not panic anyone. I say that because as I type my hands are shaking, and I've now dropped more "F" bombs in one hour than I've dropped collectively my entire life. That's a lot of "F" bombs. I'll probably go straight to hell. Immediately.

Out on our walk this evening Nick and I got attacked by a bully breed dog. I don't know what it specifically was, other than it was brindled, male, gorgeous, short, muscular, pissed off, and running at us from about 4 houses down. I hesitate to mention that, so let me interject here that I mention the breed for descriptive purposes. Anyway, I only had enough time to think, "OMG, which one of us is he coming for?" and enough time to assume it was Nick and then to think "I'm going to step in here, and then he's probably going to turn on me". His owner by this time was screaming his name (a name that I've forgotten in the aftermath, but I had the random thought, "what a sissy name for such a badass dog") and running after him.

When he got to me I turned slightly in front of Nick and kicked the fucker right as he came into us. He still nailed Nick in what sounded like a body slam, but he more or less glanced off of him and rolled about ten feet into the neighbor's yard. I was screaming "GET YOUR FUCKING DOG GET YOUR FUCKING DOG GET YOUR FUCKING DOG!!!!!" this whole time. The guy was not far behind his dog, who was at the moment picking himself up out of the neighbor's yard for a second pass. By this time I'd already picked Nick up, and had swung him around to my other side (putting myself between the dog and Nick), a move I'm sure my back will thank me for later. That is once the adrenaline stops flowing, anyway.

Fortunately when the guy got there the dog rolled over onto his back before he could make another pass, and that was the end of it. The guy appeared suprised, and apologized profusely. He told me where he lived, and said if there was any damage to come get him. The dog did, at one point get up and circle around to make another pass, but the guy was on him quickly. I bid a hasty retreat after checking Nick over very carefully.

Nick hasn't a mark on him - other than the black spots on the backs of his hind legs where he hit the deck when I started screaming. I'm not hurt either. We both, however, were fairly shaken up. I've worked over the past few weeks to get Nick to relax on these walks, and he slinked (slunk? slank? whatever!) all the way back to the house. I suspect much of that was his reading MY emotions, as I was freaking out. I really hope this won't be a permanent setback to his ability to walk in the neighborhood.

However, coupled with this, the drug thug neighbor dudes who've been ogling me, and the freaky staring guy right before the dog thing, I think I'm done here.

Interestingly enough, Nick never made to fight back, never raised a hackle, nothing. I am not even 100% sure he realized yet what was going on. Oh, and I'm not sure the guy realized I kicked his dog. I'm not sure the DOG realized I'd kicked him. I didn't feel compelled to point that part out though.

You know, I've never really understood on a deep gut level the folks who come onto boards like the BC Boards and post about "my dog was attacked by another dog". I get it now. I get it in a way that I wish I'd never lived to get it. I probably won't sleep tonight, or if I do it won't be well. I realize that sounds dramatic, but there it is.

So, the sidewalk out in front of my house takes me 2-3 minutes to go from one end to the other. That's only ten passes per walk. Nick buddy, you gotta rehab FAST.

So we're physically OK. My one prayer is that emotionally HE is over it already. My other prayer is that a Subway Club is going to do it. At the moment I feel very much like a whole lot more food than that. I've got the points, but I hate to waste them on emotional eating.

That is all.

WW Ramblings

I've come to the conclusion that I'm just no good on my own. Maintaining my weight by just doing whatever suits me is not working - not even close. I'm in danger of going past the point of no return, and I'm just not having it!

I'm just a little bit like a life sentence serving inmate who has just been released from prison. I like my routine and my rules, and if I stray far from that I'm just no good on my own. I cannot control myself. And those fat cells? They have an amazing capacity to remember things, and are more than happy to just fill themselves up. Evil.

So, it's back to tracking, and back to loss mode for the Big Mama. I'll admit, though, that I'm embarrassed enough to not be able to bring myself to attend a meeting yet. I'd probably be admonishing someone else in the same situation to drag themselves in, but I just can't bring myself to do it yet. I think I am learning a very valuable lesson here - a lesson not only about remembering what works for me (rigidity, and sticking to the plan and the rules) but also a lesson about grace and understanding for myself and others.

I swear I spend entirely too much time doing what I've deemed "The Eternal Search", aka figuring out what foods in my diet don't agree with me. I was just telling Mary the other day that since I started WW I've been trying to figure out what it was that wasn't agreeing with me. Every. Day. I'd cut out this, cut out that, and yet still I was having... issues. Plant wilting issues. The dogs were even running for cover every night. They'd be standing at the back door begging to be let out. I probably owe them big time.

Well, duh. I'm lactose intolerant, and I was eating string cheese every day. Again, I say, "Duh". Why didn't it occur to me to cut out the string cheese? They don't let me out much apparently. So no string cheese lately and my life (and my dogs' lives) has been SO much better. Maybe one of these days I'll learn. I'm just glad it wasn't the bananas or peanut butter!

So I'm trying a new thing this week - I'm replacing my early morning protein (string cheese) with a hard boiled egg. I am anxious to see how it goes. What I learned early on is that I fall apart later in the day if I don't have some protein early in the morning, and hopefully this will do the trick.

I hope eggs don't end up on my "not to be eaten" list. The Kashi TLC bars just did, as of yesterday. Dang.

Besides, I don't have any bigger jeans. I intentionally on the way down tossed everything above a size 12 jeans. I don't have anything bigger, and I cannot afford to buy new ones.

So this is me over here sucking it up (literally, and figuratively) and getting back on track and under control. I have squashed the cookie pusher. Bacon Cheese Fries will now be enjoyed on a limited basis... monthly or every other month as opposed to every week. I'm going to stop there as I do like to save some face every now and then.

Editing to add: Guess what I brought to go on my english muffins this morning? FF Cream Cheese. Double Duh. Some people are just slower than others. I'm having PB instead.

One last thing:

It is 3:13 EST, and I could mug a pizza delivery dude right now. I'm going to go have a snack bag of 94% FF microwave popcorn, but so help me if I see a pizza delivery dude between here and the kitchen he is toast. (I say he 'cuz my delivery guy at the house is a "he")

40 Things About Me

I'm not really sure if there are rules or something to follow in this game, but from what I gather we're to tell 40 things about ourselves, and then tag 3 others to do the same. 'Sposed to add a current picture and I don't have anything really current, so here's the best I can do:

That's the Turd and I back this August? Something like that - up at Roy Johnson's. Good picture of her. Me, not so much.

Anyway, here goes:

40 things about me:

1. I have a thing for animal's feeties. I think my favorite feeties are polar bear feeties. I love to go to the zoo and watch them swim around paddling with those big cute feet. I also like dog feeties and cat feeties. I like human baby feeties too. Human grown up feeties not as much.

2. I like the smell of horse poo (yes, really) Horse anything, really.

3. I once ate one brussels sprout. Never again - it is Not. Food.

4. When I was a kid I could put both feet behind my head. Those days are LONG gone. I’m lucky to manage to get ONE foot just in a shoe these days.

5. I was a gymnast from the age of 5 to 15. I competed in the Junior Olympics when I was eleven. Unfortunately when I double fractured a wrist at 13 I grew 6”. I grew boobs and hips too – pretty much all were the death song for a gymnast. I eventually taught for the man who’d coached me. The passion for gymnastics has never really left me.

6. I also did some competitive swimming. I was fast, but had negative zero endurance.

7. I went on, eventually, to lifeguard. My fave was working at country clubs where you’d be on for thirty minutes, and off for an hour and a half – and we were allowed to do whatever we wanted there for our time off. My thing usually was harassing the snack bar guy out of a hamburger.

8. At one point I headed up the gymnastics program at a YMCA. I hated it. The equipment was crap, and the gym there was so dreary… and I had to haul the equipment in and out every session. Yuck.

9. I was a cheerleader in high school. Not one of those perky flying through the air chicks, no. One of those in your face angry types (picture “Bring it On”). Headbanger gone awry. We liked to pick cheer fights with other teams. We were pretty darned good at what we did, too.

10. For a white girl I can even dance a little. I sort of tried to teach Mary and Julie the “Running Man” while we were pounding fence posts one day. It was hot and miserable outside, and while they didn’t learn the dance we got a good giggle out of it anyway.

11. That brings me to headbanging. In high school I hung out with a group of headbangers. We used to entertain ourselves by spraying hairspray on our jeans and setting our legs on fire. For real. I didn’t inhale, though, I promise. Maybe that’s why I have very little hair on my thighs.

12. I’ve never smoked anything – pot or cigarettes.

13. I snuck into the house once (and only once ever), while carrying a pizza box. I literally fell THROUGH the window, and landed with a huge thud. I hit my head on my waterbed, but yet I somehow managed to NOT wake anyone.

14. I once fed my little brother rabbit turds. I made “berry pies” and fed them to him. In my defense I was five, and honestly thought they were berries. My mother was horrified.

15. Once my brother and I wet toilet paper and threw it up onto the ceiling in my grandfather’s bathroom. Did you know that wadded up balls of wet toilet paper stick to ceilings? Well, they do. So then we tried jumping off of the toilet to bat them down. We got into BIG trouble for that one.
16. We also put M&M’s in my Papaw’s ears when he was sleeping. He was not impressed.

17. I once as a child took a piece of cheese into my Dad’s bedroom with me, where I proceeded to chew it long enough to make it gooey, and then stuffed it in Dad’s ears. He was not impressed. Funny how he laughs about it now though.

18. I travelled with the Concert Choir in my first college stint.

19. I managed to get a BA in Psychology during my second college stint. I had a concentration in Interpersonal Communications. What this means essentially is that I have a useless degree, care about other people, and am not afraid to talk about it. For that matter, I’m not afraid to talk about anything.

20. One time I decided to ride a horse bareback – but with no bridle, no halter, no nothing. Did I mention this was an arabian? Stallion? Yeah, OK, so I’d decided we were so in-tune with each other that I could communicate with my knees and voice (very zen ESPish of me, no?). Fifteen fast and furious minutes later –and I assure you he NEVER slowed down - I finally bailed (thankfully we were in a round pen – I might be a loonie, but I’m not completely daft). He slammed on brakes, and looked at me as if to say, “What are you doing down there? Weren’t we having fun?”

21. My favorite movie ever is the Sound of Music. I’m on my second copy now because the first disappeared.

22. My second favorite movie is Mary Poppins. Notice a theme here?

23. I hate living in the city – all but the part where Papa Johns Pizza delivers to my house.

24. I once gave CPR to a goldfish (not one of mine). It got a pebble from the bottom of its tank stuck in its mouth (throat?). I squeezed its sides and popped the stone out. He swam away gratefully.

25. I also rescued my catfish from death by snail shell. He’d stuck his wonky little wide head in a snail shell (minus the snail) and had gotten stuck. I grabbed him around the middle in and wiggled him back and forth until his head popped free. He swam away slightly less gratefully than the goldfish did.

26. I tried snuff once. I almost threw up on my shoes. I was at a stable, so I turned the water hose into my mouth, only to find that it had amazing water pressure. I believe even my eyeballs got a washing in that deal.

27. I take my cooking in spurts. Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I go on strike.

28. I hate disorganization, but my life tends to lend towards the chaotic.

29. I love stupid movies like “Dumb and Dumber” and “Tommy Boy”. This does not, by the way, include “Drillbit Taylor” which CR and I snored through at the movie theater on our second or third date. ZzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZzz

30. I want to be a wine connoisseur, but unfortunately cannot get past the fact that
(a) I don’t like wine very much most of the time, and
(b) I’m a cheap drunk with low alcohol tolerance

31. The ocean scares me. There are swimmy things that I cannot see in there. I haven’t stepped foot into the ocean past my ankles since my early teens.

32. When I was a kid my best friend’s family and mine would spend a few weeks each summer at the beach together (this was pre-oceaniphobia). These were some of my best childhood memories, and some of the few that are wholly intact. She (Vicky) and I would throw our bathing suits up into the ceiling fan blades to see where they would get slung. Don’t ask.

33. I’ve only ever lived in NC and SC.

34. In Kindergarten I used to chase boys on the playground, tackle them, and kiss them. I accidentally rubbed one guy’s face in the gravel. Had he been sensible and stood still he could have been spared the suffering. He got kissed anyway for his efforts.

35. I have a running list of things that cause me gastronomic distress.

36. One of my favorite singers is James Taylor. I totally dig him, and want to rub his shiney bald head.

37. I’m addicted to American Idol.

38. I’m also addicted to Bacon Cheese Fries. Oh wait, are we supposed to be telling things that everyone else doesn’t know? HAH!

39. I tried to play softball for a while. I suck at it. I throw like a girl, hit like a girl, and sometimes even run like a girl.

40. I like to peel grapes before I eat them. Sometimes.

Oh, and I almost forgot to tag 3 others. How about:

Sam http://hollyzacandtheiradventures.blogspot.com/

Julie http://willowsrest.blogspot.com/

Robin http://shooflyfarm.blogspot.com/

Run Free Jed

Chuck (CR) had to let his old guy, Jed, go to the bridge last week. Being the female in this relationship, and thus more prone to prattling and such I told him I'd do a blog post in Jed's honor. I didn't get to spend as much time with Jed as I would have liked - I've only known them since the end of February, last year. I can say that he never failed to greet me like I was his long lost friend, and just seemed to have a sweet, stable, kind disposition.

It's hard to let them go - but I know that finally his legs work right again, and that he's able to chase balls (and chew up frisbees) until his little heart is content. I know he was Chuck's right hand man, and will be terribly missed. Run free at the bridge Jed.

Jed and Zeke:

Photos by Chuck Coble.

Week Two

I've received my orders for week two of rehab for the Noodlehead. We're to increase walks from 10 mins to 15 mins, 3x a day. He says we can sneak in another 10 mins if I'd like. I'm to start sit/stand drills 2x a day, and keep up stretching 2x a day. Next week the only change to make is up the walks to 20 mins, 3x a day, with one extra 10 min if I'd like. The doc says that after next week we'll increase rapidly in getting him back into shape, but I'm to continue to be conservative at this point.

While it's frustrating and slow, I do think he's right. Nick is looking nice and sound - carrying his weight evenly (well, as evenly as Nick ever does) and is pushing off of both back feet as he should. He's carrying his weight squarely again, which is good to see, and isn't short striding or hobbling around or any of that funky stuff. The doctor told me not to be too concerned if I see him hop on rare occasion at this point - but if it becomes pronounced or frequent to call him right away. So far, though, the only hop I've seen since starting was last week coming off the patio, and I realized he didn't want to step in the goo.

Nick, on the other hand, would appreciate some love here. He's digging the going for walkies, and he's tolerating the stretching thing (on his side) providing there's no distraction whatsoever. But he is not loving the enforced quiet time. This morning, in fact, the beastie was trying to run zoomies in place. Yeah, I'd say he's feeling pretty good.

So, tonight I'm making a pot of my Chili, plus a pot of spicy black bean soup for lunch at the Jack Knox clinic tomorrow. It's going to be butt crack cold, and I'm not exactly looking forward to THAT part. It feels weird to not enter Nick, but I think Jack and I will have fun with Linc - mr.nostopnocalloffwildman. It's been a crazy week, that's for sure.

My brother is going through a rough patch, and it breaks my heart. His situation sounds similar to what I was going through a little over a year ago, and it not only makes me sad but also makes me quite angry too - on his behalf. That being said, last night we had dinner together and he was telling us (my Mom, sister, and I) about how he likes to go to McDonalds and give them a hard time. He'll go up and ask for a "McNapkin" or a "McApple Pie". Sometimes he'd like some "McFries" to go with that. He insists that life is more fun if you just put a Mc in front of everything. I'm not sure why, but for some reason this strikes me as hysterical. He's a funny guy - and one of my favorite people in the world.

So for lunch tomorrow at the clinic we're going to be having McChili. I might even bring some McCheese to go on top.

Friday Musings

First, it suxxors to be at work this morning. For the uninitiated "suxxors" is lEEt speak - internet MMORPG gamers talk (ie World of Warcraft, Ultima Online, Horizons, etc.) for saying something sucks. I roxxors U, pwned, blah blah blah. Anyway, back in a former life I used to spend days at a time playing Ultima Online (and Horizons) and when I think back on all of that wasted time and energy trying to substitute games for real life it makes me shake my head. In some ways the dogs were almost my salvation in that regard. Because of a small black and white bundle of terror I gradually phased out the games, and phased in the dogs - followed by a real life to go with it. It helped put some nails in the coffin of my marriage too - but that has turned out to be a good thing.

So it suxxors to be at work - but having a job today (and in this economy) is a good thing. I won't complain too much. I'm sitting here drinking cup of coffee #1, and thinking about some things.

- I missed saying happy birthday to Linc (I think??) on the 21st of December. So, happy birthday Linc! He's a year old now, and about to go take his first clinic with Jack Knox - next weekend in fact.

- From here on out, Chuck Reloaded (CR) aka Big Strong Man (BSM) will now be referred to as My Sweet Baboo (MSB). We watched "Happy New Year Charlie Brown" the other night, after eating marinated lamb chops (way yum). This was after watching a show (the name escapes me) about how to handle cattle with less stress. Maybe MSB can remind me of the name, but anyway it was very interesting, actually. There were a lot of tips that made great sense, and some that were slightly different than what I would have thought, and then some things I was all like, "well, duh!" or "you people need a dog".

- Go away rain, and take your mud with you. While you're at it please take this recent bout of unhappy doggie tummies with you. I don't know what's going on here, but I'm ready to scream. And Ginger? If I see you licking another swirlie in my carpet I'm going to thump your head off of your shoulders. No, not really. But seriously, knock it off.

It should be a reasonably quiet day here today. I have my knitting with me - I'm still working on the multi-colored scarf Ginger modeled a few days ago (I haven't touched it this week) and a hat to go with it. Tomorrow Julie and I are going (hopefully) yarn shopping so I can make one for her.

On a Nick rehab update front - he's decided, actually, that he's digging this whole stretching on his side thing. It seems to be working out OK, actually, and is much preferable to doing it on his feet. He's still not digging the walks though - he slinks around like I'm trying to beat him. Not much I can do about it though, but if I ignore it he eventually (mostly) straightens up. Weirdo.

Rehab Whoas

Photo by Robin French

I started Nick's rehab plan yesterday. Nick thinks it's stoopid. Apparently I'm supposed to do 3-4 five to ten minute walks daily. Oh, did I mention they're supposed to be reasonably loose leashed? Oopsie. Learned that this morning. I'm spending the whole walk yelling out "Whoa now!". Guess what? The Noodle ain't got no whoa (thus the cool pun of a title - yeah, I know how to spell woes). Oh well, at this point apparently we'll settle for walking quietly with only light pressure on the leash - but loose leash? Hah. He peed on the neighbor's bush, too. Nice, hunh?

We're supposed to do passive stretching too. The doctor called this morning to elaborate, and evidently he'd prefer if we do this stretching business with Nick laying on his back. Uh, hello? Tried that. I got Nick to lay down, of course. Rolled him over on his back, and yeah, that was working out just great. Next thing I know he's sprung up, spun twice, play bowed and hopped sideways three feet in the time it took me just to get up off of my knees.

Obviously that's not working out so great. I 'splained that maybe I'd just have to stretch him on his feet, and that maybe (since we have nothing else we're allowed to do) I'd train him to lay on his back quietly and let me do my thing. Maybe if I cranked on his balls he'd lay there quietly. No, probably not.

I hope Nick and I aren't like... the patients from hell. I know my regular vet isn't all that overly fond of me - but so far this guy doesn't appear to hate me yet. I think my regular vet probably cringes when she sees us come through the door, because I have a tendency to walk in there and refuse yearly vaccinations, and pretty much just not do what she wants me to do.

Anyway, I digress. For the next week we do passive stretching (hah) and quiet loose leash walking (double hah). He was quite firm about this - even when I tried to explain that on a typical day this dog covers miles at a time. He says he realizes that. Eh. Next week we increase in intensity and duration - but he says he's more interested in increasing duration. He wants me to go extra cautious here so that we don't inadvertantly re-injure the muscle, and wind up back at square one. I can respect that. After week two we'll be doing some cavaletti work, which will be fun.

Nick looked at me yesterday after the first walk like, "Is that IT?". Sorry friend, for the moment that IS it. Next week, though, we can progress to some mild hills too. It looks like maybe this will be a good exercise program for me too, so it's not an all bad thing.

Nick just wishes we could get back to normal. So do I Noodle, so do I.

Photo by Julie Poudrier

I can has a scarf.

Do my ears make me look fat? How do you like my new haircut Darci gave me?



I can has a scarf.

See?

It matches me, no?

Work? What is that? And Other Random Thoughts...

We've had quite a bit of time off here at work with the holidays, and here I am back today and trying to (at the very least) appear to be working. Blech. I'd rather be knitting. Well, it's not like anyone else is working around here - the guys are running around shooting each other with the Nerf dart guns, and playing Nerf basketball. Seriously - they have nicknames for each other like "Crash" and "Squirrel". Dignity and maturity are highly overrated around here. They pay me to be here. Seems like a good deal to me.

I wonder if I've gone over the edge? I've never been particularly inclined to be all that domestic, but yesterday I made two beaded lanyards (I haven't found the beads I like for yours yet Darci, but she'a a comin') and almost finished the scarf I started while watching a movie Friday night with Mary and Julie. I'm getting ready to start knitting Julie's hat, too. Maybe I'm sick?!?! Well, sicker than normal?

So I'm sitting on the... uh... throne yesterday, sort of minding my own business. Hah, business. Anyway, Linc runs off with my unmentionables (and why are they on the floor, I ask you? Well, that would be because for the third flipping day in a row I almost put them on inside out, and was determined to wear them the right way for a change), which I suppose aren't unmentionable now that I've mentioned them. Right? Anyway, so I was sitting there screaming out, "DROP IT YOU LITTLE FART", to which he runs back in the bathroom empty handed (uh, mouthed??). I looked at Nick, and said, "Hey, Noodle, go get my panties bud!". Do you know what? He did. He went, got em, and brought them back to me. He even let me have them back. Of course at that point they were all... well... dog slobber, ewwwww.

Evidently we are both desperate for something to do together. This is the dog that doesn't have any sort of fetch experience really, and doesn't know what "get it" or "bring it" means. Poor guy, reduced to fetching undies. He's looking good though - standing squarely again, and pushing off of both hind feet as he should. The doctor says that without an MRI he can't be sure exactly which muscle is injured, but that he feels it's around the hip joint, insertion, and so on (left side). I'm waiting for Nick's rehab program to come over on the fax, but so far I haven't seen it. He's said he wants me to call if I have input, after I look at it. I just want the Noodle to be back sound and healthy.

Yesterday CR put in my garbage disposal, and I'm just pleased as punch to have a nice, free running drain again. I reminded him that in 7 days we will have known each other for 365 days. I'm not so sure that men look at those types of things the same way we do.

I think I'll go home and let Nick go get my undies some more. Maybe I'll KNIT some undies. Maybe I'll knit some beaded undies for him to go get for me. Maybe I'll even knit some beaded undies while drinking malibu rum and pineapple juice. Then again, my recent foray with malibu rum had me drunk emailing Julie. Maybe I'll just stick to scarves.

Noodlenews and a Hat!

Some Noodlenews... I got a message from the ortho guy, and both he & the radiologist agree that we're dealing with a soft tissue injury. I will call him tomorrow to get all of the details, and a treatment plan - and for the first time since this popped up I feel a bit of peace. Hopefully we'll get Nick all right as rain, because I miss him.

And... for New Year's Eve look what I made to go with my new scarf:

I'm too sexy...

Does this ensemble make me look fat?

I'll probably make a burgundy scarf so I can wear either or. The hat is cute as heck, seriously. I'm not even saying that just because I made it.