check the plug, yo.

so you know how you hear those stories about people calling in the plumber or washing machine repair main in a frantic snit because their washer stopped working?...only to find they hadn't checked the cord and it ended up costing them the bill for the visit?

and then you smugly think, gawd, what an idiot.

so this morning i go out to wash baseball clothes and uniforms, which seems to be my new destiny in life, and i go to turn on the washing machine and nothin'...bupkus.

immediately i went through the whole oh. my. gawd. the washing machine is broken!...it's only a few years old!...now i'll have to call the repair guy!...that's gonna cost me a fortune and i'll have to wait because it's going to be hot today and people are probably already calling about air conditioners and fans and stuff!...and my mud porch is a MESS!...i'll have to clean it before he gets here!...oh geeze why this today!

and then i remembered the plug.

i looked behind the machine and yup, sure enough it was unplugged.

turns out when i was getting the flag down yesterday to fly for memorial day from the shelves above the washer/dryer it had dropped and when i fetched it i inadvertently unplugged the washer...

i wish i wasn't such an emotional why me? half-wit when faced with the smallest difficulty...i automatically go into worst case scenario mode and it takes full minutes before i calm down enough to realize there may actually be nothing wrong.

which of course is always a let down for a drama queen like me.

because then i have no *real* story to tell and you get posts like this.

yo.

in other news i will be taping off my bedroom today in hopes of actually painting...sometime this week...right.

no really, i am aiming high!...once the duke has started school for the day and i have wingman ensconced in some activity it's me and the blue painter's tape...

chocolate walls.

ceiling in vintage map (kinda a real subtle tiffany blue)

trim in chamois cloth (kinda a creamy cream color)

"creamy cream"?...i know. but it's the best i could come up with.

now, i don't know if this will work...i am guessing here on a palette made up of different things i've seen...BUT, considering that room hasn't been painted in about 30 years, and badly done to begin with, i think i'm good.

i always did like the low hurdles the best.

x.

and if the devil is 6 then god is 7.

so last fall my sister and i went to the hometown of kurt cobain for a wedding...we took the beast, i drove and she picked the music...one of the cds was the pixies...

we bopped along, the weekend came to a close, and i dropped her home...

then i noticed that she had left not only her pixies cd, but her other music as well...secretly i was glad because i was digging the pixies cd in my stereo, and wouldn't see her for two more weeks so i'd get to enjoy it longer...

but then it wouldn't come out.

as in it was stuck in the stereo and seriously would. not. come. out.

and since the beast is a diva the *only* part of my stereo that worked was the cd player...not the radio...because she doesn't want you to be all the way happy, get comfortable, and then forget who's really in charge...

so at first it was kinda a fun novelty...and since the lord of the ring, the duke of fun, and wingman and i all LOVED it it was okay...

it was a joke "hey, the pixies again, awesome!" "what do you want to listen to?. oh, i don't know, what about the pixies!"

HI-larious...for the first three months, anyway...

that cd took us to the store and to thanksgiving and to stoveman's 60th birthday party in the city and off to my nephew's 9th birthday party the next day in the next city...dragging a bit and steeling ourselves for another party...that cd took us through the perpetual grey slog of christmas traffic wondering when it would be our turn to turn left and why everyone else in all the other cars looked terribly unhappy to be where they were...

probably they weren't listening to the pixies.

that cd accompanied us on the first leg of our journey back east, and was waiting for us when we got back...piled into the beast with more luggage than a funk band on tour...(this of course after we futzed with the beast and got a jump from my brother in law and whispered sweet nothings into her ear just to get her to move her 17 ton patootie and take us home)

after a month away and the journey we had to get home that cd brought familiar comfort to our travel weary family...

and it was playing when the beast decided to not go a mile further not 10 miles from home...

that cd spent 3 more months silent while the beast was in rehab...hopefully thinking about what she had done and turning her life around...

and when we got the beast back?

the stereo was ripped out and sitting forlornly on the front seat...seems the stereo amp was creating a draw on the battery...it wasn't that big of a deal as it was obvious we needed a new stereo anyway...

so, what about the cd?...well, stuck in the now totally non working stereo...still...

but now that we could get to the screws it was no big deal and a few minutes later the lord of the ring extracted the cd...

and now i've got it here and ready to give back to my little sister...

our whole family knows every song by heart...every melody...every chord change...every hook...for awhile it was the soundtrack of a life a family lives while in the car...every journey big and small...all the things that happen when you are going from point a to point b and everywhere else in between...

and while i am glad we'll be getting a new stereo and i'll be able to listen to the radio and my stevie nicks cds and wail along to the wreckers (shut up, it's all i have some days) i can honestly say i am going to miss the pixies...

but if you think i'm sticking that fucker in my new stereo you'd be dead wrong.

plus, i've got to get it back to my sister...eventually.

x.

coffee, t&a, or me.

so lately in our area there is an explosion of lingerie/bikini latte stands...as in the gals you get your double tall with extra whip and a twist from are servin' it up scantily clad...

now, people can do what they want...i don't generally give a rat's ass...and i don't have a problem with scantily clad women per se...or men for that matter...in the right circumstance (and i mean right circumstance...as the weather warms, i have to say i'm a little uneasy about going anywhere around here as everyone dusts off their summer wear and hits the town)...but seriously, too much flesh, likely *not* well contained is *not* my idea of how i would like my food or beverage being served to me...

after all, skin is the largest organ of the body!!...eww! shudder eww!.

oh, yeah, naked sushi anyone?

i will never understand humans as long as i live.

plus, i was a barista for quite awhile in my past life...and lemme tell you, with the steaming espresso machine, foaming milk, and scalding coffee coupled with all that flesh and inadequate coverage not to mention TO GO COFFEE CUP LIDS THAT ALWAYS LEAK!!, well i'd be fairly concerned about on the job safety...i mean, that kinda work environment oughta warrant more than a few visits from OSHA.

meanwhile, it's a holiday weekend and i wish you all fun and frivolity with a minimum of stress and strife...

x.

this message brought to you from the snarky division of hallmark.

besides the handmade cards i got from the boybarians on mother's day (the duke's saying he loved me as much as he loved the yankees and wingman's wishing me a happy mother's day and wondering what i would look like bald) i got two cards from two friends as well...

i write this now, because i just got one of the cards today...

when you know someone a long time it's always an interesting thing getting a greeting card from them...because greeting cards are like shoes...either you have taste and know what you're doing or you don't...no ifs ands or tasseled loafers about it...

what's worse is getting a card from a lover...oooh, i hate that word lover (say it like molly shannon for added effect)... /shudder...but you know what i mean, it could really go either way...usually bad if they only go to hallmark...or even worse! a bad greeting card with misspelled words...grim. prognosis for relationship not good...

but, i digress.

greeting cards are trickier than shoes even in that you generally don't pick out a pair of shoes to send someone on a whim just to say hi! or for an occasion or holiday...

and if you do, well you just have too much damned time and money on your hands and you're partially insane...

there are soooooooooo many cards that could be sent to me that would really give me pause...does this person know me at all?...have the last twenty years shown them nothing?...aren't hand painted kids in adult clothing holding flowers a little 1988?

card #1

(outside)
light blue background with a graphic of a summery pink girl drink

Cheers! It's Mother's Day!

(inside)

Not traditionally a drinking holiday, but why the hell not, I say!

card#2

(outside)

a winding road with a cartoon chicken asking the following

Why did the mom cross the road?

(inside)

No one could tell, really. She was mumbling to herself about peace and quiet. She circled the block a couple of times and came back a lot happier. Happy Mother's Day

what i particularly like about these cards is that the sentiment is there and it. is. real...none of this As you reflect on this most important of days know that your place in this world is one of great importance as you shepherd your flock to the future pastures of blah blah flowery blah...

not that there isn't a place in this world for that kind of sentiment, but i'm not that kind of mother...because to me mothering is very real and sometimes very gritty...no amount of contrived script, graphic lace, and scalloped vellum inlays can convey what it is i do on a daily basis...

and i love that people get this...people who are supposed to care about me DO because they. get. it. too.

i love being a mother...i love my children...but if i can't find the humor and my way to the bottom of a glass some days i'd be circling that block WAY more than a couple of times...

x.

gardening 101.

i have failed gardening 101 oh for about 8 years now...this is the first year we've lived here that i have a slight bit of a grip on the whole thing and actually might make it through to the first frost without running from the car to the house in hopes of never laying eyes on the dying mess...

i inherited a LOT of garden when we moved here...and in my extreme naivete, i thought it was a bonus...

yeah.

anyhow, the last two months we have been chipping away at rampant weeds and dead plants...moving things around, spreading dirt...we built the boybarians some raised beds and they were very ambitious the first year out...we'll see how that goes...

i've created a very pretty border bed and it's nearly finished all the way around...i've got the front garden cleared and ready for planting...next it's the lavender patch...MAJOR weeding, replacing a couple of plants that bit it in the big storm, and re-doing the path down the middle...

now is a pretty time outdoors...not too hot, things still look green and inspiring...

i have nearly *no idea* what i am doing in the garden, but i am doing something...it's a start...

gardening is part brains and part brawn...and a whole lot of hope and heart...

the thing is the brawn is killing me!...clearing the weeds and hauling the detritus to the weed heap and then shoveling and hauling and spreading of the dirt is hashing my legs!

not to mention i've been slightly worried about my neck and what all of this is doing to it...and amazingly enough my neck is just fine...not a problem...and i tell you, in the past i would have already been out of commission by now...

yea physical therapy!...did i just say that?...don't tell anyone...

so my neck is good...for the first time in a LONG time...but me legs, oy!...

the main thing about gardening for me is just the patience...and the constant vigilance for a time...and then patience once again...

i don't mind admitting i suck at all of that...sure the attacking and ripping out of years worth of weeds choking the soil and other plants i can do...there's something metaphoric about that process that is better than the best therapy in the world...it's the weeds that come after...and need to be dealt with on a constant, but less intense basis...it's having the were with all to figure out what may be wrong with a plant that isn't doing too well...and to care enough to do something about it...

sure, going to the nursery and eying all the beautiful plants beckoning you over (pick me! pick me!, they cry) is sooooo easy...and the potential, the idea is enough to fill your trunk and empty your wallet and just pushes it over the edge and seals the fate...a new plant, so sweet, full with life...we tease it from the pot and put it into the soil...we water it...we wait...how easy, we think...and then we think about what the plant might be at full bloom...

sometimes forgetting what the plant is now, what it will be in the meantime...

but that's where so many of us go wrong...the idea gets us and it's everything that comes after that gets obscured...the actual work...the process of growth that requires our attention...our care...

gardening is a good idea and a whole lot of work...there's so much more that comes after the fun of planning and picking...it's the idea that if you plant a seed you will see it through...through weather and pest invasion and the inevitable periods of neglect...both for the reward of what the plant produces as well as for the experience of doing it...but mostly because you took this plant and put it in your soil and now you must care for it...anything less just wouldn't be right...

it's easy to *not* garden...really really easy...except for the crippling guilt and shame when you're ignoring the dying yard for roughly half the year, it can be done quite successfully...in fact, until this year, we used to call our property the garden of benign neglect...

benign or not, it's still neglect...and neglect even in the best of conditions is no good...so, slowly but surely we're turning it around...and like anything worth doing there's a good formula for that...chipping away at the jobs we can do, considering help for the jobs we can't...and learning as we go...

my garden will not be perfect, it will not be the best garden anyone has ever seen, it will not win awards...which is just fine by me.

my goal is that in the first days of august, when the summer is in full bloom and the air is thick with heat and the grass is dead and the ground is baked hard, i won't have to run from the car to the house in hopes of not laying eyes on a dead and dying mess...my goal is to drive up and be greeted with life and growth and beauty...to walk leisurely to the house enjoying the trip...to sit under the little cherry tree by the garden, in the shady cool, and enjoy the fruits of my labor...

full well resting in the knowledge that did the best job i could...not because i threw my hands up and let fate and the inevitable take hold and say i did the best job i could do, taking my seat in the shade early on...but because i got down on my hands and knees and did what needed to be done...

x.

raaack! polly *does* want a cracker as long as it comes with a bottle of wine.

so the lord of the ring and i have been thinking for awhile now how we can get a little place in the city...any city fer' cryin' out loud!!!...

really, though, with two kids homeschooling next year and my wanting to go back to school it would be beneficial to be more urban...a dream, but we're optimistic...

so, we were talking about some options the other night and we were agreeing that a two bedroom would be okay, but in order for him to have a workable home office a three bedroom would be ideal...and that generally a three bedroom place would have more overall square footage, which we both agreed was a great idea...then the duke said all nonchalant

"yeah, 'cuz i'm gonna need room for my birdcage"

oh good lord what now?

apparently, the duke of fun is planning on getting a bird...not just any bird...first he was lobbying for two parakeets...and then it came down to it and what he really wants is an african grey parrot...

possibly the most time intensive pet around...they live 50-80 years, need a minimum of three hours of outside the cage time a day, one hour of exercise a day, a wide variety of interesting toys which they will attack and get bored with easily, water changed frequently during the day because of bacteria risk, special diet, supplements, air filter and humidifier by the cage are suggested, at least 12 hours but 14 are ideal of sound sleep a night or they get grumpy, and they need to be bathed at least once a week...

yeah, and did i mention they live 50-80 years?...

oh, and they talk...not just any talking...they eventually get to a point where they can string sentences together and respond to you conversationally...they are also expert at mimicking any noise they hear...they are also sensitive and emotional and do not like being left alone...especially if you go somewhere or if you are sitting down to a meal...

good lord!...i didn't say this but he might as well wait to get married!!!...ha ha, i keed i keed...

one quote i especially liked was

"You don't know a scream until you've heard your African Grey scream bloody murder at his toys. Which they do quite often in play."

ohhhhh, greaaaaatttt. LOVELY.

seriously, you've got to be freakin' kidding me!...he got some books from the library so he's well aware of all this...and we discussed in very. full. detail. about how papa and i are not willing to care for his bird long term should he go away to college or extensive traveling...hell, i need to go away to college and do extensive traveling!

this means i will never fully totally be alone in my own home...ever...whatever i did in a past life it must have been really bad and i am so very sorry...

the real kicker and what may save us all is the fact that they roughly run about $900 bucks a bird...not including the cage and the toys and the food and all that...

the lord of the ring and i told him that we thought he was too young to really know about that kind of commitment now, but if he saved up $1000 for expenses likely by that time he'd be old enough to make a better informed decision...

man. the duke is a fine boy, the BEST!, but seriously?...a bird like that suggests a level of nuts that i just don't think i've encountered yet in my family...and believe me, i've had plenty of encountering...

and *right* after that discussion as i was tucking wingman into bed and turning off the lamp and walking out the door so bloody thankful that he was finally in bed for the day one down one to go and looking forward to switching off my brain he asked

"who was jesus?"

i love the fact that my children cannot comprehend just how close to the edge i really am at all times...i certainly wouldn't want them to tone down their boybarianess in favor of my sanity...

OH, and i totally blocked this out but remember baseball mom from last week?...well at the beginning of that whole "you called my mother a feminist and now you shall pay with my wrath you heathen!" conversation i learned a very interesting fact...

SHE VOTED DOWN THE LIBRARY LEVY LIFT!

so *that's* who would vote against the library, huh?...sounds about right...i can't believe i forgot that when i was posting about it last week...

probably had something to do with the fact that i was still upset that the levy did. not. pass.

that's right, it wasn't *just* her but a little over half of fifty percent of the county who voted it down...

i am surrounded...these are not my people and i am surrounded by them...

what would jesus do indeed...

methinks he wouldn't care if it was only two bedrooms and not much overall square footage.

x.

i have to keep reminding myself he's six. and to breathe.

last night wingman said

"my favorite president used to be george washington...but not any more"

"oh, who's your favorite president now?"

"george walker bush"

silence.

and then as calmly as i could possibly muster i said

"george bush!?!"

"yeah...not george herbert walker bush, that's his dad...just george walker bush"

damned presidential placemat.

see, i feel compelled to explain that when given the opportunity to choose something that is his "favorite" from things he doesn't actually care about or understand wingman will always go with who is winning or has won or is currently on top...

and since george walker bush is president now, wingman seems to think there is something special about him and therefore earns him the honor of being "favorite president"...

it is at this point i could make a quip about the general american population with regards to politics and six year olds and president bush but i just can't bring myself to do it...too easy...and it's just no fun anymore...

"You hold your future in your own hands. Never waver in this belief. Don't swagger. The boy who swaggers-like the man who swaggers- has little else that he can do. He is a cheap-Jack crying his own paltry wares. It is the empty tin that rattles most. Be honest. Be loyal. Be kind. Remember that the hardest thing to acquire is the faculty of being unselfish. As a quality it is one of the finest attributes of manliness."

-Sir Frederick Treves, Bart, KCVO, CB, Sergeant in Ordinary to HM the King, Surgeon in Ordianry to HRH Prince of Wales, September 2, 1903

01.20.09

x.

i might as well have called her mother a whore.

at baseball practice yesterday i had the following conversation with one of the other mothers...she's older than me by quite a lot...but still!...anyhow, she is telling me about her own mother who at 88 has become something of a political activist...especially so in women's issues...so i say

"wow...so she's discovering the feminist within"

"oh!...NOT. AT. ALL...she's still very much a lady...she's careful with her dress and is impeccable with her language and manners...and she's still quite the consummate hostess"

you should have seen the look on her face!

you should have seen the look on my soul.

and yes, she went on describe how, in her opinion, society has become too feminized...we are too squeamish and not letting our boys become men...they are too soft...too many boys being raised by single mothers...and you know how she said it it was as if it was the single mothers who were at fault...OF COURSE!...and absolutely nothing about the dads and their roles/non roles in all of it...

you know if she actually used the word "damned" she would have used it to describe the feminists...she nearly couldn't even say feminist what with the severe purse of her lips...

oh yeah, and home schoolers have a problem with proper socialization of their children.

indeed.

you know it exists, but when faced with it it's actually quite shocking...i'm sure my mouth wanted to hang to the ground, but the fixed and frozen smile on my face prevented it...

sometimes i completely forget where i live...

well, not live as much as endure.

x.

random boybarian thoughts.

the duke and i were sitting on the porch yesterday while he did his school work and i tried to recover from my physical therapy appointment...sure it was six hours earlier, but it takes me awhile to get over acute trauma...

so, we're sitting there when the duke looks up and asks

"do you think ants have feelings?"

"well, i don't know for sure because no ant has ever told me, but i'm pretty sure any living thing has the ability to feel or at least sense"

brief pause

"well, that doesn't make vegetarians and carnivores much different, does it?"

i am so not touching that.

good luck, duke.

so later wingman and i are headed out in the car (i might get my truck back today after oh like three months in frankenstein's garage, but that's another story) and in the time it took me to turn on the car, put it in reverse, reverse, and head down the driveway we had the following conversation

"mama, what is a retirement home?"

"well, it's a place people who are older and who no longer work go to live with other people like them...or it can be a place people buy separ-"

"are super heroes real?"

"well, i've never met one but if you think-"

"did my piano teacher have her baby?"

all that and we hadn't reached the mailbox yet!

and then today wingman outlined exactly what he would like for and who he plans to invite to his birthday party...next january.

and if i know him he'll stick to that plan like glue...oh, he'll add to it here and there when he gets a whim, but for the most part what he decides now is set...

until the day before his party when i'm about to make the cake...that's when he'll change his mind and the theme of the party...

x.

you can't get theah from heah.

wingman has some r trouble...well, if we lived in new england he'd be taken for a native...but since we live in the pacific northwest it's some "r trouble"...in fact, i try to get him to use the phrase, wicked smaht, but he won't do it...sigh...i have so little pleasure in my life...

anyway, it used to be all r's...like all his r's would come out as a w sound...especially so with words that started with r...

it's waining outside...that's not the wight one, i want the wed one...

now, those "want to be w's" are shaping more often than not into proper r's...and his trouble now lies in the endings that require an r sound...

the kitten's name is otha...(arthur)

the hat is on the flooh of the cah...(floor, car)

at first i was concerned and really was thinking of speech therapy as a future consideration...but as he grows it's getting WAY better...

we are consistent but casual about asking him to repeat things properly and i show him how my mouth and tongue move when i create my r's...guerrilla speech therapy, i know, but it's what i got...

and not five minutes ago without even thinking about it he said (drumroll please!) SHORTS!...not shahts BUT shorts!!!!!

it's the little things...

and in other news the kittens continue to be CUTE!...much to my continued dismay as i thought i had them all fostered out!!!...it turns out the person slated for chico's pair is backing out!!...and they are tooooooo cuuuuuuuttttteeee to remain living here without a forever home waiting for them...having them around, essentially homeless, is like taking a trip for two when you are ovulating...bad idea...too many variables...

and to top it off, both chico and the man are taking turns being in heat...yeah...the man was first and got out!!!...she didn't come back for about 6 hours and we finally found her at the bottom garden entertaining the tom from a few acres over!!!...CRAP!

i know it's her hormones and she can't control it but SHIT! it was no better than finding her in the backseat of a chevy!!!

we scooped her up, brought her in, and as a result as the weather warms up we've got every freakin' door and window shut up tight for about the next 5-6 weeks until we can get them fixed!!!...

now chico's in heat and man is she annnnooooyyyyiiiiinnnngggg!...seriously. annoying.

i know she can't help it but COME ON!!!!...the pitch of a cat in heat should be piped through prisons during riots, or for crowd dispersals, or anywhere else where you want to drive people so nuts they cannot complete a thought, much less an action, and will do anything you say just to make. it. stop.

so here we are, work from home, school from home, everyone home together with two horny cats stuck inside and a passel of just on the verge of mischievous kittens...

i am NOT saying having a baby would have been easier, i am just saying no one got off easy with this substitution...

except maybe the tom from two acres away who only has to sit in the yard and wait for one of us to slip up and leave the door open...

x.

there is hope. and my mad letter writing skillz just might be it.

they published my letter!!!!!

i know, huh?!?

okay, i'll start from the start...this morning i went down to the mailbox and got the local paper and tore it open and NOTHING!

fuckers!...how could they NOT publish my letter?!?...good lord i really am surrounded by idiots!

so later i hit the road to do errands...

i go to the library and when i walked in one of the librarians said

"hey!...GREAT letter to the editor!"

"what?...how did you know?...they didn't even publish it!"

"sure they did...here, i'll get the paper"

so he gets the paper and it's the local paper for the other part of the county...kinda the same, but different in content...and sure enough, there it was!!!

then all the other librarians gather around me and it's like i'm britney spears in a wig shop!!...they're all. over. me.!!

i tell ya...

okay, so librarians know me by name...what about it?...sure, it's not cheers, but you know, sometimes take what you can get...

and, the best part is the letter was in the "sound off" section...the special section where they highlight just one letter to the editor...obviously, the best letter to the editor...

indeed.

in other more sobering AND exciting news there has been a LOT of doing with chico and the man...

okay, so about 5 days before chico gave birth she had been in a cat fight...some tom from a few acres away...

or so we thought...she seemed fine after a day and we attributed the tiredness and soreness to early labor...she gave birth last thursday and that was that...except she seemed to have some sort of infected lump on sunday...she had cleaned it by monday, but the lord of the ring took her in just to be sure...

poor mama...she was attacked by raccoons!!!...who knew!!!...the bites and placement, etc. suggested she was bitten by at least two if not three!!...her wounds were incredibly deep and were beginning to abscess after all this time...

so she was in surgery forever! where they found another bite under her tail!...meanwhile we spent a futile afternoon trying to bottle feed the babies...no luck...

boy but that just figures in this family...the duke *barely* took a bottle of breast milk as a baby...and wingman never even let it far enough in to see what it was all about...buncha nipple snobs in this family...and that was just the beginning...try giving the two of them anything but real maple syrup for their pancakes and good luck!!...course who could blame them...hmm, do i want colored corn syrup or nature's sweet goodness fresh from the tap...wait...what are we talking about again???

apparently, i digress...

so, she finally came home before evening, with a shaved back and tail, five plastic drain tubes, and a BUNCH of stitches...totally sad and yet totally punk rock...poor mama kitty...

chico has been in pain and out of sorts today and we've just been trying to get her calm and resting...she seems to be *okay* for now, but we're keeping our eye on her...

that was monday...tuesday morning about 5am wingman climbed into our bed and nonchalantly said

"papa?"

"urnnhh?"

small sigh.

"i went to pet the man because she was meowing under the duke's bed and she was eating something with for' legs and a tail...pwobably a wat (rat) from the duke's closet"

GOOD MORNING! now i'm up!...the lord of the ring and i look at each other...

"are you sure it's not a baby kitty she's cleaning?"

we head in there, the duke still asleep on top of his bed, and sure enough the man is giving birth underneath his bed!!

she ended up with three kitties total and they all look exactly like her!!!...so far so good with them...

did i mention that this was *supposed* to be the day for the makeup trip to the city to celebrate the duke's birthday that was first foiled by the birth of chico's kitties?...canceled. again...he's been fairly gracious about the whole thing, though by default we have been calling him catboy...you know, just 'cuz...

so there you have it...i could go into further detail about the suffering i've been doing at physical therapy but that would just get boring and you know, terribly self involved compared to what my poor mama kitty is suffering through...

i will say, though, that the evil minion has me doing a sort of core strengthening exercise that involves pelvic thrusts on the ball WITH WEIGHTS ON MY HIPS!

i'm not sure how this relates to rehabilitating my neck injury other than it sure takes my mind off of it.

x.