Haircut day finally arrived.

Before shot.

During - at least the beginning.

The not-too-happy just after shot.

And even hours later, still not the happiest face.  But a pretty cool haircut!

Everything seemed like it was going smoothly.  Gabriel was happy in the little car he was sitting in, and watching the Elmo's World about birds.  He was fussing a little when some wet hair would fall on him as the woman cutting his hair was clipping away.  THEN he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and saw her scissors, and completely.  freaked.  out.  Stood up in the car, flailed his arms, arched his back, and screamed bloody murder.  I really never expected him to be afraid.  It caught us completely off guard.  As you can see, we have a few nice pictures at the beginning, and then Gabriel looking exhausted and, well, pissed off at us beyond belief while riding home in the car.  In between we were both holding him down and couldn't take any pictures.  The bad thing is he'll probably never want to get his hair cut again.  The good thing is, he still has curls!  

Molly sings the Big Dog Blues

Molly started limping two weeks ago.  I first thought she had just pulled something, because she seemed better a couple of days after not going on any walks.  Jav took her a week ago Tuesday night, and she was fine.  Then after he took her again the following Thursday night, the limp came back.  It remained all last weekend, and I started worrying about hip problems.  I took her Monday to see Dr. Norris, and he started thinking hip also.  They had to put her under on Tuesday to get good x-rays, though.  (Our girl is so playful she won't sit still that long).  

Sure enough, it's dysplasia in both hips, which we weren't expecting.  Her femurs should fit nicely into her hip joints, and be rounded on the edges.  The x-ray showed that the edges are rough and worn down, and so the bone isn't sitting very well in the socket on either side.  He said she was probably in some pain before now, but it must have just recently really started bothering her.  At this point in her life, he recommended a daily joint supplement, and some stronger pain medicine whenever she seems to be having a tough day.  We can still walk her; in fact we need to walk her every day, but maybe for shorter distances.  He said even long walks are ok, as long as it doesn't appear to bother her the next day.  The thing she should avoid is jumping and running, which means no more chasing down the ball.  

I never imagined how emotionally tough and expensive it would be to deal with having multiple middle-aged and/or older  pets.  I knew Rottweilers are prone to the problem, but I guess I was hoping because she was a mixed breed she had enough hound in her to avoid it.  This has been such a tough year on us, pet-wise.  But I'm thankful it wasn't something like bone cancer.  This, for now, seems manageable for the time being.

And we are still considering a puppy, believe it or not.

Thanks for the tent, Julie

Bones loves to curl up in it, as long as it's not too windy out.

Gabriel loves the tent, especially when Daddy squeezes in too.  There aren't near enough pictures of Jav in my blog.  I need to fix that.

Now, if I could only figure out how to fold the tent back up to put it in the nifty plastic thingie with handles, then I'd really be getting somewhere.  I've tried two or three times to follow the directions, but it never quite gets compact enough and ends up springing back up in my face at the last minute.  Hope the neighbors aren't watching, because I'm sure it's pretty comical to watch.

A banner day

I finally remembered to take my canvas shopping bags to Wal-Mart for grocery shopping today.  After forgetting them dozens of times at home, I had packed them in the pocket on the back of the drivers' seat.   I still forgot them a couple of times, but then one day last week walked back to the car after walking in without them again.  I think after today I have made it a habit and will not forget again.  Whether or not I can get the check-out clerks to use them in a friendly manner is another story all together.

Since I am now writing an ongoing short article for my neighborhood newsletter titled "Easy Tips for Going Green", and my last topic was reducing plastic bag use, it would be embarrassing to see any of my neighbors while I unload the car with tons of plastic bags!

Dreams of the Adirondacks

I have a new dream in life.  I want to own a cabin on a lake.  And ever so slowly, the place that has crept up to the pinnacle in my brain is The Adirondack Mountains.  Every time I see pictures of the area my knees go all weak and my heart skips a beat.  Then, yesterday, I read this article in Travel and Leisure magazine while waiting for a doctor's appointment.  I wish the online article had the pictures.  My teeny pictures I found above don't really do the place justice.  It just looks like one of the most beautiful places on earth to me.  

My ex-husband's family had a lake house on tiny Lake Weatherford, and I think my time spent there must have planted this seed in my head a long time ago.  The whole family (and their best friends who lived next door) would spend holiday weekends there.  The neighbors had a full-sized sand volleyball court by the water, and my ex-inlaws had a shuffleboard court, plenty of yard games like horseshoes, and a big old ski boat.  Occasionally we'd water ski or just putter around the lake in the boat, but this never held as much appeal for me.  I've decided boat owners are people who like to tinker with things.  I have some fond memories of my ex father-in-law with his head hanging over the engine, various tools scattered on the ground below him, scotch and water resting somewhere within reach, and weaving a string of curses as long as the Mississippi.  This would always signal the beginning of summer to me.  

But it's really just now hitting me how much of a lake person I really am.  I love to watch the cranes taking off and landing.  I love the sound of tons of insects and the frogs croaking during the summer nights.  I love looking up and actually seeing stars in the sky, more stars than you ever thought could be up there.  I love taking the dog for a walk around the lake.  I love seeing the seasons change on the water.  And if you've never experienced dusk while sitting on the dock sipping a beer, when the water is ultra-still and the birds are feeding everywhere, well then you haven't really lived, my friend.  

I also would really enjoy owning a second cabin to rent out, and thereby have some nice extra income coming in.  I think I would totally love doing this for a living.  I'm good at setting moods and creating comfortable spaces.  I don't really mind cleaning up after other people, unless they've just trashed the place.  I know it would be hard work, but when you enjoy something it doesn't seem that bad.  

Of course, we already own a rental property in Padre, but we are not very hands-on owners since it's so far away from us.  This kind of bothers me.  I know we would do a better job on the upkeep and could make the condo much more appealing to renters if we were able to maintain it more than once a year.  The people who are running things down there just do the bare minimum they have to do by law, if that.  Plus you have to worry about hurricanes, which just happened to us.  Our condo (which is on the fifth floor of the building) didn't sustain any real damage, but because the lower levels and outside property had some major damage they had to shut the whole building down for repairs for the entire month of August.  Since August is usually our biggest rent month this really, really sucks.  

Jav and I talk about retirement (a scary subject since I decided to drop out of the workforce to raise our child, and I'm old), and I think we determined that our combined dream would be to live at the Padre condo from December through May, then head north to our lake cabin from June through Thanksgiving.  That way you get the beautiful summers, fall and maybe even one or two early snows up north, then head south before it gets to be cabin fevered (picture Jack Nicholson limping around with an ax), winter time.  Then just about the time it starts to get really hot in Texas, (and before hurricane season really starts), we head back, leaving the summer months to tourist rentals, when we can make the most money.  Isn't that just the most lovely plan?  We could even have rental income coming in all year long.  The only hitch is that I'm not really crazy about spending Christmas at the beach.  Just something about cold weather that makes you feel all cozier about the holidays.  But besides that, it seems like the perfect plan.  And no matter how unobtainable they may seem sometimes, it's nice to have dreams.

A new tradition is born

Jav and I had a house project we worked on Sunday morning while Tia Sandy took Gabriel for a wonderfully fun morning at the park.  We had some time when we finished so we decided to go have lunch, something that can be a little hard on the nerves with Gabriel lately.  We needed to run another errand in the TCU area, so Jav picked a sandwich place just across the street from the campus called Potbelly Sandwich Works.  I may have seen one, but wasn't really familiar with them at all.  As I started eating my fantastically good sandwich (The Italian), and sipping my Key Lime bottled soda, I asked him where he'd eaten at one before, and he said he dined at one at an airport before coming home from our friends Mark and Chey's wedding last year.  I started thinking, and realized it was exactly one year ago this past weekend.  So the weekend nearest August 18th (their actual anniversary), has now been deemed the Annual Potbelly Weekend, where we will venture out for our once a year sandwich feast. 

And it will be a happy weekend indeed.

It might be haircut time

We're debating whether or not to get Gabriel's hair cut before he starts Day School in two weeks.  His curls seem as if they've become a big part of his identity, at least to me.  I've only had two people ask if he was a boy.  Everyone else knew he was boy through and through.  And most of the Moms we've had conversations with waiting in lines or shopping have said, "Don't you touch that hair!" whenever I mention that we're thinking about cutting it.   But it is getting really long, and sometimes hangs down in his face, and I promised myself I wouldn't let him look shaggy.

I know that besides starting school, his first haircut will probably be one of the most emotional things I'll have to go through.  The result will be such a visual symbol that he's growing up and not a baby anymore.  And I'm going to be so sad if the curls never come back.  But maybe it would be better to get both things over with at the same time.  

Shaggy all of a sudden doesn't seem so bad!

Bones: From crotchety to cuddle muffin

For some reason, I had a very sad Henry moment this morning.  I was watching Elmo with Gabriel and I got really sad all of a sudden and missed that big drooly purring lump in my lap.  I was crying, but trying to pull myself together so Gabriel wouldn't wonder why Elmo was making Mama sad.  Luckily he was oblivious, but I noticed Bones staring at me.  I asked him if he missed Henry sometimes too.  

Well, when we got home from doing our Thursday thing several hours later, we walked into Gabriel's room and there was the fishing pole with the curly ribbon tied to it.   I couldn't play with the cats using that fishing pole for about a month after we lost Henry.  Then I decided to switch out the little fish with the bell that I had custom made so Henry could hear it with some curly ribbon that someone had left after a birthday party.  I have been making a concentrated effort to play with Bones and Zoe more lately.  But, not only has the fishing pole not made it's way into Gabriel's room since Henry died, Bones has NEVER left a toy for anybody before in the house.  You really could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw it.

Then as soon as Gabriel was asleep, Bonesy came and curled up in my lap and let me pet him for the longest time.  I'm not sure if Bones was letting me know that he's a little more content now that there are fewer pets and I have more time to play with him, or if he knew how much I needed that little extra lovin'.  Either way, it sure did make me feel better.  And it just further confirms my belief that animals are instinctively so much smarter than most people give them credit for.

Small miracles

Today was a truly great day.  No, the future history books will not have any of the small miracles that I witnessed today recorded.  But in our little world - that I will admit revolves completely around Gabriel - this was a huge day.

Just before Gabriel's nap, we were reading a book together, and he made four different new animal noises during the course of the book:  horse, cat, owl and puppy.  He also started making a "whoo whoo" train noise every time he rides on his big indoor car.  I realized after witnessing Jav carry him piggy back around the house tonight that he is copying DaDa, who always makes a train noise during this expedition.  Then tonight, he turned on his old musical walker that he's ignored for a couple of weeks.  He was humming, clapping, and dancing to the songs that I have endlessly sung, even when I didn't think he was always paying attention.  There's one song that I don't know the words to, so I always just made this soft shoe noise and kind of hummed along.  Tonight he was bouncing up and down and soft-shoeing away, and although it took me about half the song to realize what he was doing, I just beamed with joy when I figured it out.  

We think he's not paying attention, and that we're just foolishly doing some of this stuff for no apparent reason.  Today it dawned on us that he is listening and watching pretty much everything we do, and we can't wait to see what he learns next.

Now, what did I do with that white ball gown?

In 1966, Truman Capote (I know, my second Capote reference in as many weeks-what's up with that?) threw what some people have called the Party of the Century.  It was called The Black and White Ball, and was thrown in honor of his friend and editor of The Washington Post, Katherine Graham.  Some attendees weren't impressed with the party, seemed bored and left early (including Frank Sinatra and his then wife Mia Farrow, pictured above); others claimed it was a huge success and would not be surpassed by any to follow.  As you can see, the mask element added an air of mystique and intrigue.

Why am I yammering about this?  Because we have an opportunity to attend our very own Black and White Ball, the Fort Worth Opera's fundraising event this year.  The invitation came attached to a mask, and the cheapest ticket is $350.00.  If you don't want to sit with the riffraff, you could spend $20,000 to sit at the Swan table.  Can you even imagine spending $20,000 and not having a new shiny automobile or some such afterwards?  

But money aside, I would love to go to a big, grownup party like this one day before I die.  One where it takes months to find the right dress, shoes and jewelry.  One where just the anticipation and excitement of what's to come can put you in a good mood.  One where it takes all day just to get ready for it.  I guess I've already been to one event that lives up to all three of those expectations:  my wedding, which was absolutely the funnest party I've ever been too.  But I'm sure the Black and White Ball would come in a close second.  

That's the signpost up ahead...your next stop, The Terrible Two Zone

Multiple screams of horror follow.  

My son has entered his next phase in life.  Boy did I have it easy up until now.  He has always been so good in every situation, whether it be a trip to the grocery store, eating out, or family get-togethers.  As long as I had snacks in my purse to satisfy him throughout the duration of a trip to the store, he's always been so happy.

Oh.    My.    God.    He now tries to stand up in the cart the whole time we're shopping.  We gave up on trying to make him stay in one at Lowe's one night (a horrible time to be shopping with a toddler, by the way).  We finally let him down and he proceeded to run up and down the aisles, making a noise similar to a recently freed caged animal.  Then he spotted the abandoned forklift.  His new goal in life was to touch it, then he wanted to move the knobs and push buttons, which would have involved climbing on top of it.  This was not going to happen, so multiple screams, sitting on the ground, and limping out of his entire body followed.  

The next clue that we have entered the TTZ was in Barnes and Noble, where we were browsing with my Mom and nephew.  Anytime I tried to take his hand, he would squeal in protest and run the other way.  If I happened to be too quick for him and grab it, he would sit on the ground, followed by me trying to pick up a limp-boned 33-pound dead weight.  I finally had to carry him sideways to keep him from bowing his entire body, all the while making his now very loud squeals.    I REALLY hate to be in a store while my child is causing such a ruckus, and of course told everyone we needed to make a hasty exit.  

Apparently I will have to get used to it, though, if I want to venture out in public for the next couple of months.  I'm hoping that eventually he'll mature enough so that I can use bribes and/or threats of taking Teletubbie-watching privileges away to make it through a shopping expedition.  For now I will just pack extra snacks, try to be patient and loving even though my child is acting like the Tasmanian Devil, and pray.  

Addendum to birthday post

I just found out about some people I missed.  If I had known Wayne Knight had a birthday on August 7th, this would have trumped the David Duchovny pic hands down.   "Hello Newman."

I also just found out I share a birthday with Bruce Dickinson, lead singer of Iron Maiden.  And you were so impressed that I knew his name, Julie.  Little did we know how much I have in common with him.

I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done

My uncle comes in on the Amtrak train from Austin this afternoon.  It will be the first time he's commuted that way instead of by car.  What a lovely way to take a trip, at least in my opinion.  Time to read or just stare out the window.  Time to enjoy a cup of tea in the dining car.  And no stopping for gas!  

Coincidentally, there was an NPR story this morning on Amtrak and how much money they need to add, update and improve safety of trains and tracks.  The figure was 2 billion plus just for the northeast corridor.  Yikes!  Why don't we take some of the money that certain people in Congress are proposing for additional oil drilling and give it to Amtrak.  Hah.  

I would so love to be able to take trains everywhere, but it dawned on me while thinking about what it would be like that Texas is a difficult place to make this work.  No, not because everybody refuses to give up their vehicles (although that's true too).  It's mostly because it's so hot.  You would be a sweaty mess just walking a few blocks to a stop or station.  It's also because everything's so dang spread out.  This is not like countries and cities in Europe, where everything seems so neatly contained and compact.  

I heard that Fort Worth is thinking of reinstating a trolley line, and it would be a slight nudge in the right direction.  I know that I plan to ride the Trinity Railway Express to downtown and catch the bus to the cultural district, as soon as it cools off a little outside!   (I must admit that part of the reason for this post is so that I could post a train picture for my son.)

Update:  Amtrak needs more than just money.  They could use some customer service training.  I had to wait, holding 33 pound Gabriel the whole time, in a long line where people were mostly buying tickets, to ask where my uncle's train was.  It took them an average of 8 - 10 minutes per customer, which is just insane compared to how they get you through the lines in a European train station.  When I finally made my way up to a counter, they told me first that his train (supposed to arrive at 2pm), would be arriving around 4:30.  I was told that this really wasn't that late by Amtrak standards.  My Mom almost had several blood vessels explode and went back in line to give them a piece of her mind, and was finally able to understand that it would actually be 3:30.  We managed to keep Gabriel entertained the whole time we were there only by standing outside on the platform so he could see city buses, the Trinity Railway Express, and the big Amtrak trains to his hearts content.     It was a long, hot afternoon.

Attitude adjustment needed

Ok, so today is my birthday.  I usually don't have a hard time with birthdays.  Like my Dad says, celebrating another one is better than the alternative!  This year, however, finds me pretty down about some stuff.  The two biggest things are not being pregnant with a second child yet and my best friend moving away (post to follow in a few weeks).  Neither of which I have much control over at this point.  So, knowing how many wonderful blessings I have in my life, I'm trying to rally and move forward.  

Instead of wallowing, I'm going to talk about famous people I share a birthday with, along with some interesting things that happened in history on this day.

Notables born August 7th:

Two artists:  Grandma Moses and Andy Warhol, neither of whose works I enjoy all that much.

Two actors:  David Duchovny and Charlize Theron, both of whom I usually enjoy and respect their talent.

One historical figure:  Mata Hari, the spy.

Some interesting facts about this date:  Jack the Ripper committed his first murder on August 7th, 1888.

The Purple Heart Medal was established on this date in 1782.

And Peter Jennings died on this day in 2005.  

One more cool tidbit is that Lucille Ball, who I think is the greatest comic actress ever, missed my birthday by one day.  (She was born August 6th, 1911.)  

Scary

I think of all the things that frighten me about the effects of global warming, nothing sends a chill up my spine like reading about the disappearance of bees.  They are such an important part of our food chain, and scientists seem a bit baffled at why they are disappearing at such an alarming rate.  I know that even in our own little backyard ecosystem (which I try to keep as natural and pesticide free as possible), by this time of year we usually have at least 4 or 5 large wasp nests.  This year, there's not one.  They started out building them in the spring, and now, nothing.  

I seriously think we should heavily fine the pesticide companies, who in my opinion have tried to brainwash the public into thinking that all insects are bad and should be nuked off the face of the earth.  Maybe the money could go towards trying to reinstate colonies (with the understanding that they would be safe from future pesticide attacks), or at least towards more research into the problem.  Since they were part of what caused it.

A little dust never hurt anybody

I hate to dust.  I just finished cleaning my whole house in one 2-1/2 hour sitting.  But I didn't dust.  I hate dusting so much that I now only do it if I know I'm having company.  Or if I walk through a room and a little cloud seems to waft through the air.  I hate having to move everything out of the way - books, pictures, bric-a-brac, to dust.  That's why we have so few pieces of bric-a-brac in our house.  Dusting has become part of that specialized part of house cleaning only reserved for guests, like windexing the French door glass and storm doors, and sweeping the cobwebs off the porches.  I only do it if I absolutely have to.

It's a miracle we don't all have horrible sneeze attacks.  

To puppy or not to puppy, that is the question

My sister-in-law's boxer, (the one we thought was really sick with a liver problem), just had 7 puppies.  It turns out her distended tummy was not liver related after all.  The father is presumably a boxer/great dane mix.  I had talked with Jav about getting another dog early next summer, but I wasn't really ready to consider one now.  We've had a month and a half of relative pet peace since we lost Henry.  I've even had time to play with Zoe and Bones and Molly more, now that we're down to only three.  

And I know a puppy would turn our peaceful pet world completely upside-down.  It takes time and energy to train him (we would prefer a male at the recommendation of our vet), and to watch out that Molly doesn't get too jealous and "accidentally" step on the new addition.  We would probably also need to watch Bones and Zoe to make sure they didn't slip something into his food.  But there are pluses too.  Gabriel would be able to grow up with the new dog.  Molly could start training a new watch dog.  And, even if Molly doesn't realize it, she would probably enjoy the company of a scrappy little guy.  

We went to see them today, and everyone seems to be doing really well.  I've never seen puppies that new.  (they are 3 days old and so cute and tiny).  Jav and I both liked the male with the lightest color, a really light brown - the same color as the supposed Great Dane dad.  He also appears to be the longest of the puppies.  Sandra said she would give us first choice, but I'm still a little concerned about the health of Ruby, the mama.  Once we determine that she's ok, then we'll have to make a decision.  

 

The mean reds

In Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's, Holly Golightly talks of having the mean reds, which are much worse than the blues.  (At least she does in the movie; I've never read the book).  I think anyone who has to live through 100-plus degree heat day after day is well on their way to experiencing the mean reds.  I know I have them right now, and no matter how hard I try to think positively, I just keep sinking back down into them.  It's not a fun place to be.