MFA Mama

mishpocheh

8:30 a.m. Eastern Time

Anonymous Friend: I HATE EVERYTHING!
How are YOU?
:P

MFA Mama: I hate quite a bit. Let's bitch.

AF: My SO has been traveling for a week and I have five animals to care for.

MFA Mama: *wince*

AF: I am not an animal person.

MFA Mama: Bahaha.

AF: They're all kind of wacky and demanding animals, too.

MFA Mama: I dislike animals currently as well.

AF: That is really what I hate the most followed closely by my insomnia.

MFA Mama: Word.

AF: You have a lot more animals to hate, I would imagine.

MFA Mama: Seventeen rabbits, four chickens, two dogs, a cockatiel, a bearded dragon, and two betta-fish, currently.
And ALL of them assholes!

AF: I'm not even sure I know what a bearded dragon IS!

MFA Mama: It's a great stonking lizard. The object of my youngest's affections and the acquisition of his gross little dreams.
Also: an asshole.
It rips its lizard-hammock (Godiva help me that I even know what that IS, much less own one) down daily, tears the bark off its shade-log, requires daily chopped salads from a proscribed list of veggies and twice-weekly live crickets...

AF: Wow.
For the record, having parrots is much the same.

MFA Mama: It takes big bird-like shits and can JUMP.

AF: They scream, they yell, they require frequent water changes because they have delicate immune systems, blah blah blah...

MFA Mama: Oh, and if it's constipated you have to run it a warm bath and let it crap in your tub, then bleach the tub, burn the house down, and move because they carry salmonella.

AF: WHAT OH MY GOD WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP THOSE AS A PET?

MFA Mama: They're charming creatures. Want one?

AF: I do not need any more pets in our tiny abode!

MFA Mama: Clementine's alright, I guess, just needy like every other damn thing alive in these parts.

AF: I share a really small space with these birds.

MFA Mama: The lactating rabbits are thirsty, the chickens smell and also need water, the hound whines early for having to pee, an hour before the middle-school bus because DST, at the correct time too because YAY WHINE, at mealtimes...
the pitbull is a bedhog
The cockatiel's treats are recalled and need to be returned to the store; they're mocking me in their bag. Actually, I think they were contaminated (or possibly contaminated) with salmonella, haaaa!
The 10,000 or so (currently) bees will soon require an expensive thingamajig in which to make honey...

AF: Wow.
I'm going to try to go back to sleep...I have A Thing in three hours, and the birds will need water changes, and UGH.

MFA Mama: Good luck with that. The hound woke me at six, we have a lunch-date, and then later I'm getting stabbed in the arm with a needle for an hour by a big scary dude for fun. I think maybe I am doing Days Off wrong?

AF: Yes, I am doing weekends similarly. 

beastly bullets

*   The day after we brought Clementine home, Hotter and I made a PetSmart run to get Little Child a book on the care and feeding of Bearded Dragons. While there, we also picked up a bag of crickets, some vitamins and supplements to keep Clementine healthy, and a new "basking tree" because Hotter's inner interior decorator was insistent that the homemade platform her previous owner had constructed HAD to go. We brought everything home, put the "tree" in Clementine's tank, and watched her crouch at the base of it, looking waaaaaay up. "D'ya think she'll be able to climb that thing?" I asked dubiously. Clementine studied the tree, the way a cat will study the top of a refrigerator, then leapt easily onto the topmost branch. LIZARDS CAN JUMP??? Holy shit.

*   The hens are laying again, all four of them! Hooray!

*   Iden the carnivorous killer-rabbit continues to be vicious and misanthropic. She also, however, gave birth to a litter of six the night before I'd planned to butcher her, so she gets a pass for at least six weeks. DAMMIT. After that she goes, though. She's just terribly vicious and untameable (I tried to befriend her once again, with romaine leaves and apple slices, but the moment I went to pet her the way the other rabbits like to be petted, she went for me).

*   Bumpus is doing much better in general than he has in ages, but he still goes into frenzied paroxysms of noise when the middle school bus is due to deliver his lord and master home. Clementine disapproves of this, and does pushups of reptilian fury. Hotter and I decided that this indicates she is a higher form of life than Bumpus, but then so, in our estimation, are certain species of blue-green algae.

*   Hotter divides the animal kingdom into two main groups "Things that like to be pet [sic]" and things that do NOT "like to be pet [I have given up correcting his English; it's become a running joke in our house to say this phrase incorrectly]. The day we got Isis, Hotter looked up at me in ecstasy and exclaimed "she likes to be PET!" (the cockatiel SOMETIMES likes to be pet, but not enough to fill the animal-hole in Hotter's heart). Hotter has decided that Clementine likes to be pet. I'm not sure if Clementine agrees, but she at least tolerates it. Iden? DOES NOT MOTHERFUCKING LIKE TO BE PET. The jury is still out on the disabled vulture at the local zoo who stole my heart a couple of years ago. I have a fantasy menagerie, you see, of various creatures I have fallen in love with and requested that Hotter find and bring to me at various times. It includes a domesticated fox, the vulture, eyebrow cat, and various others. I really do think that vulture would like to be pet.

*   And how are all of YOU? My enter key is broken, but otherwise I'm okay. Please excuse any horrible spacing. The spacebar is a sad substitute, but I simply cannot bring myself to deal with all of India over the phone on such a beautiful day. Oh, Dell :(

Clementine

Figure One: She is not particularly darling, but we have called her Clementine. I got her from a co-worker, who got her as a baby and had her for nearly three years. He sold me the dragon (Clementine is a Bearded Dragon), tank, and all accessories for less than a teeny baby one of these things would cost by itself at the pet store. Little Child is in slithery little-boy heaven :)

newt

   I got an e-mail last week asking permission for Middle Child to enter a class raffle, and being very busy and tired only skimmed it to ensure that entry didn't cost anything and fired back a quick "yes, thanks."

   Well, yesterday I found out he won, and the prize? A NEWT. Wonder what second prize was. TWO newts, perhaps?

   The teacher sent a helpful handout home yesterday on the care and feeding of our "new family member."

   Did you know that newts can live upwards of FIFTEEN YEARS? And like to eat LIVE CRICKETS?

   I sure as hell didn't, and also? I am TERRIFIED of crickets.

   That'll teach me to skim e-mails from teachers!

the Bumpus hound

   Someone commented on my last post asking what Bumpus is up to lately. I also had people ask about him within the past week on the Twitter and the Facespace, independent of each other. I think that since I don't write much about him, folks assume he's quietly slipped out of the picture or is wasting away from neglect? 

   Not hardly :)

   Bumpus just doesn't make it onto the blog very often because unlike Isis, he is not My Dog. Bumpus is very much Big Child's Dog, and is politely affectionate to other members of the household, but that's it. He has absolutely no regard for strangers; he is a true hound to the bone (which isn't far, haha).

   During the worst of Hurricane Sandy's LIMITED impact here, the MFA Children were with their father and CATHERINE! (they have a generator and we do not, so I let them choose where they wanted to ride out the storm and once they found out we might lose power they chose there) and Hotter and I were home with the animals. More specifically, we were lounging in bed in our jammies with Isis at our feet. "I think we should let Bumpus in here with us," I said, finally. "He might be scared all alone in Big Child's room." So Hotter grumbled a little and went and tried to get Bumpus. Who thumped his tail but snuggled more deeply and stubbornly into Big Child's pillow, which he was curled around huffing the scent of Big Child's head. "No thank-you," he said quite plainly in Hound, "this is where I belong."

   I got kinda sentimental about the Bumpus-hound after that comment came in earlier and went into Big Child's room to pat him, and found him ecstatically chewing Skittles. He didn't touch any of the chocolate, but demolished the fruity types of candy from Big Child's trick-or-treat pumpkin. So he won't die unless Big Child strangles him when he gets home from school (he totally knew he'd done wrong, too--as soon as he saw me notice what he was eating he dove under Big Child's bed in a painful-sounding clatter of bones, I didn't even say anything, haha).

updates and Hurricane Sandy

*   Isis's skin/coat situation is looking worse, and I'm kind of concerned that we're hurting her by waiting to get her treated, but realistically even if a HUMAN was on death's doorstep right now they'd need to wait until after the first of the month for medical care. Ugh...

*   I am LOVING the MFA Beater! I took possession of it with an empty gas tank, then put ten bucks into it and drove it to work four times. Today I took it to the gas station and filled it up all the way. Total cost? $26. SO ADORABLE! I also checked the oil, and not only was it not low, but this thing has the cleanest-looking engine oil I have ever seen in a vehicle, even immediately after an oil change. LOVE!

*   Hurricane Sandy. Oof. I'm not liking this storm, particularly since losing our fridge and freezer right now would be nothing short of catastrophic for my little family. We're prepared, in that we have some bottled water and cans of Sterno, and some canned and non-perishable foodstuffs on-hand. Also, I ordered this for $9.99 from Groupalicious weeks ago before Carmageddon took place, and it came in the mail yesterday, so that's good. I'm irrationally terrified that the hurricane will drop a giant tree right on top of the MFA Beater, because wouldn't that be just the kind of thing the universe likes to do to me? On a plus note, "Sandy" is the name my ex-MIL, who had a not-insignificant hand in poisoning my first marriage and is all-around fucking evil, prefers to go by. So I am taking great pleasure in mentioning to the XY that Sandy is looking to be a real cunt but yes, we are prepared, when he asks me if we've done anything to ready our household for the storm.

*   I may or may not update the blog as events unfold, but for those of you worried about the MFAmily, the Twitter is the best place to keep up with me in real-time. If you don't follow me there and would like to, don't be shy! Go ahead and send a request! As long as you're not a tweetless egg or a Friend of Stalky I'll approve you.

*   How are all of YOU? Are you in the storm's path? Have you gotten bottled water, canned goods, and whatnot, and made sure you know where your can-opener, flashlight, etc. are? Are you good to go on prescriptions? Don't forget to have supplies ready for your pets! If you have horses or other outside animals, remember: it's safest not to confine them. Their instincts will offer them better protection than anything short of a concrete bunker, and if you box them up in a stall they'll probably either injure themselves or destroy your building trying to get out when the storm hits. I had horses during the last storm this major that came through MFAville, and they did just fine. If you're really worried, a lot of racetracks and police stables with sturdy facilities will let you bring your horse to them for the duration. Good luck!

little

   I encountered two things this weekend.

    One was a family of five, out to Sunday brunch. Two parents and three people in their early twenties who were obviously the couple's children. The parents and two of the children were of average stature. The remaining kid (I feel weird calling him that, as he had stubble on his face) was...well, he was little. Not so little as to likely be affected by any sort of achondroplasia (I studied those and other genetic conditions affecting stature when Little Child was a sick little baby, so I feel pretty confident in saying that), and his body and features appeared to be perfectly proportionate, he just...wasn't very big. I was both trying not to stare and desperately trying to figure out how tall the guy was; I hope he didn't notice. I just...well. It made me think about Little Child, and wonder if he'll be THAT little when he's that age. I don't ever want anyone, no matter how well-meaning, to stare at my baby ever again (we got plenty of that when he had a tube taped to his face and later snaking out of his clothes and running into a backpack), and yet that's exactly what I ended up doing to the young man I saw today. For the first time ever I questioned my opposition of the notion of growth hormones for Little Child except in the case of an actual deficiency; I still think we should give him a minute to get used to not having a G-tube. I still don't like the idea of meddling with his endocrine system. He's not even seven and I think we have time to leave the kid the hell alone for a bit and see what his body does on its own. But...well, if he really isn't even going to hit five feet, and he's still healthy in a couple of years...MAYBE.

    We'll see I guess.

    The other thing was a trio of wee little dogs belonging to another large-ish family I encountered in a business context. They were mini-pinschers (the dogs, not the family, although one of the kids was chatty and informed me the dogs were also related), a breed of dog I've long admired, and they were ferociously opposed to my encroachment into what they obviously considered to be their territory. "Would you like to pet one," the chatty tween boy asked, having noticed how taken I was with the dogs, "the mom might nip you but the babies won't." And he proffered one of his dogs, which he held out easily with one hand under its chest, while his father was signing some paperwork.

    I never really considered myself a "big-dog person," having grown up with small dogs, but reader, I had no idea how to even go about petting a dog so tiny! I finally ended up stroking the little beast's head with one finger, chortling in utter glee.

    And now I'd really like to get a mini-pinscher when Isis goes.

    Hotter says no, but hopefully I've got at least a decade to work on him.



Sent from The Precious

it's the end of the world (as we know it)...and I feel like crap

   I forget that not ALL of you also follow me on the Twitter or are friends of mine on the Facespace. Therefore you've missed a few events, photos, and explanations. Here they are in no particular order, because I'm le tired and the power might go out again at any moment:

*   The tattoo: is something I'd been mulling for about five years, did not cost me any money out of pocket, and is based on an original design you can buy from these guys and hang on YOUR wall if you want, TOO. I already knew I wanted a hamsa and liked the Mikes' design a lot, so I traced it, lined the inside of the handprint a little more simply, made the eye look a little different, and added three dots to represent my boys. I promised myself I'd get the ink if I survived Wednesday, and got it done Thursday afternoon right after the root canal sans-local. Yes, it hurt, no, I didn't cry/flinch/take any breaks/care, and yes, I went to a reputable artist who I've known for nearly twenty years and I can still donate blood and tissue if my health allows it. ALSO yes to infection precautions beforehand; I am cleaning it with chlorhexidine, have the artist's personal cell number in my phone JUST IN CASE, and will probably end up taking a course of Levaquin for unrelated reasons in the super-near future anyway so yeah. Not worried.

Figure One: The first mark ever to go on my body on MY effing terms. Love it SO MUCH!

*   Oh, right, the antibiotics? Would not be related to dental work. My sinuses are draining every color on an American stoplight, though, and I have this juicy cough that's not going anywhere. It's like, I know I probably SHOULD see a doctor, but because I'm afebrile and my bad ear doesn't hurt I keep not finding the time. Tomorrow I already have the dentist (AGAIN), the insurance adjuster, and the boys coming home.

*   My ex is back to being The Lord of The Douche. I mean, his actions are sterling (this week). His words, on the other hand...well. I'll put it this way: when I spoke to him today and he got nasty, I said "whoa, oh no you don't, not today with THAT!" He then attempted to call me out for attitude so I told him "THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. NOT. TODAY." At which point he asked me what was wrong and I told him about wrecking the van and he chilled out somewhat. So he gets a B+ right now. WAY above average, but not excellent.

*   I had a chat with Trashcan Neighbor today; I filled her in on my past week and told her that while I realized there was a lot of debris on the ground at my house (and even some straight-up junk I pitched out of the MFA Minivan while clearing it of cargo and seats in order to fit cages, crates, and hutches containing the dogs, the cockatiel, and all of the denizens of Squatter Workshop before our power came back on, in order to use the vehicle's AC to keep them all alive), it WOULD be cleaned up within an objectively reasonable length of time UNLESS the health department, Animal Control, or any other county agencies showed up in response to a neighbor complaint, in which case I would open an illegal waste-processing plant in my back yard and give them something to call a county agenccy ABOUT. "And when you tell every single neighbor, because I know you will, tell them this," and I pointed to my face, "was my face. This is my I DON'T CARE face." She blanched and stammered and claimed never to have called the county on me, and I held up my hand. "I am not asking you if you did or didn't, and I won't even believe you if you tell me. Just remember: week from HELL, illegal waste-processing plant, don't-care face." 

*   Totally unrelated to any of the above, I had to call 911 today. There was a shooting in my neighborhood; it definitely was NOT fireworks and it pissed me off. The ONE time I go outside without The Precious some motherfucker has to go and break the peace? SERIOUSLY? I booked it back to the house, called the police, and convinced Hotter to put clothes on (harder than it sounded) (not like THAT, god) (I mean not right that...you know what? NEVERMIND). Three squad cars, an ambulance, and a boom-truck rolled up. The officer who responded called me to let me know they were pretty sure it was Sketchy Neighbor, who appeared to be On Something, but there was nothing they could do under the law at this time. Awesome!

*   How are all of YOU?

DRAW ALL THE THINGS

   If anyone needs me for the next week, I'm MFAMama on Draw Something.

 

P.S. It's about all my brain is or will be fit for, seeing as how Isis shook, whimpered, and twitched all night last night as the anesthesia wore off, and then I went in early today to make up for leaving early yesterday, and now Isis seems determined to whine, whimper, and grovel all night tonight because there is a cone on her head. Yes, I know YOUR dog adapted just fine to the cone. Want to trade?*

*  That's right. She is being SUCH a pain in the ass about the cone currently, what with the trying to shake/lick/scrape/paw it off and the whining that it only took us twenty-four hours to go from "DA POOR BAYYYBEE" to "is she better enough to kick yet?" SPOILED DOG DOES NOT LIKE THE CONE OF SHAME.

birdie school

   Everyone please give a warm MFA welcome to the first advertiser to take advantage of the first annual OH MY GOD LIFE SUCKS ad sale extravaganza, BIRDIE SCHOOL! If you have a parrot and are interested in training them to be a better citizen of your household through positive reinforcement, this is the website for you. We here at Casa MFA have a middle-aged cockatiel who probably isn't bright enough to benefit from the technique, but who knows, maybe I'll get inspired...in the meantime, I'm waiting to receive HTML from one other advertiser and will probably cap sales of the larger ads when I've filled the immediately-visible portion of the left sidebar, so get yours while the getting is good!