Rachael

Hahahahaha. This one makes me laugh. I captured in this shot the first (and so far, strangely, only) kitten smackdown. That’s Willie, being cowed, trapped by fear, and Waylon, who was momentarily startled and then forgot to be afraid again.

(I know there are people horrified by the fact that we allow cats on our table (not while eating, obviously) but oh, well. There are more cats than us, and we pick our battles.)

**The above was pre-blogged. This part is live, because I still want to talk to you. Isn’t it weird, this blog-thing, that I’m just sitting here in bed, and I think you will want to know how it’s going? Because some of you really do? I do think that’s the sweetest, nicest thing, and I love you all for it.

(Codeine syrup gives me the love, darlings. It really does. I keep calling Lala into the room just so I can gaze at her and tell her how much I adore her. I don’t think she minds, though.)

So I’ll just tell you my set-up real quick, because I’m SO happy with it. I’m tucked up into bed, with our yellow/red/orange quilt on it that our friends Rachel and Kira, the pocket vegans, made us for our wedding. To my right, on my bedside table, I have seven new books, one for every mood I might be in. I was reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, but I had to stop, because the food descriptions were too wonderful, and I can’t eat anything yet that has any shape at all. Tapioca, no lie, feels too sharp as yet. Stupid pointy tapioca.

So instead I’m reading The Good, Good Pig by Sy Montgomery, to soothe my pastoral-memoir fetish. Lovely writing so far. I also have Harry Potter, just sitting there, looking at me, but I honestly don’t feel strong enough yet to hold it up to read it. Maybe a few more days and I will.

I also have a bed-tray that holds this here laptop and my cell phone. I have four netflix DVDs sitting near me — two more disks of Freaks and Geeks (I love the series so much I’ve dragged out watching them for years now, wanting to save the goodness), the first Nip/Tuck DVD (have heard good things) and 1940s House, which I missed on TV.

I have a boyfriend pillow — that sitting-up pillow with little armrests. I have to say, it’s handy. I’m not allowed to lie prone for THREE DAYS. That’s one more day of sitting up, even when sleeping, and the pillow really helps.

So I sit up against my boyfriend pillow, the laptop on its tray in front of me, knitting a sock, picking up my cell phone now and then to text Lala if she’s in the other room to tell her how great she is. Then she’ll text back, or send me an email, which feels really weird and funny, but saves my voice.

The voice, by the way, is coming back in. Hurts like an emeffer, but I can talk some. I am probably talking too much, actually, but like I said, codeine gives me the love, and I want to talk about it. Safer and more painless to do it here, so I LOVE YOU! Did you know that? And I think you have really pretty eyes.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the BEST PART.

This guy has been at my side most of the time. His cone does get in the way a bit, but mostly we snuggle just fine, and we both feel better when snorgling. (Which is way better than choking, by the way — I’m still choking a bit when I sleep, but I managed to get some good hours last night, which has made all the difference in the world.)

Plus, there are kittens running around, and Harriet being cute, and Miss Idaho being jumpy, and Clara being VERY VERY BAD (let’s not even start, but who knew that border collies liked bananas AND yogurt?), and sisters stopping by and making you a banana/peanut-butter shake — it’s all good. If I didn’t hurt so much, this would be a very fine vacation indeed.

This is actually how Willie lies around sometimes. He likes his limbs to dangle.

And here is me. Surgery went well, after waiting until SEVEN THIRTY PEE EM. Dude, I was completely over feeling hungry/thristy by then, I tell you what. But they were soooo nice to me, and my anesthetician and I discussed martinis, and then he gave a GREAT one in my veins, a nice, relatively slow-acting one (none of that 10-9-OUT stuff), so much so that I remember telling the crowded room how much I loved karaoke, and would they like a little Crazy, Patsy-Cline-style? Oh yes? You would? I belted out three lines, started on the fourth to the sounds of "Nice!" and hysterical laughter and then I was out, and then suddenly in recovery where my nurse was so sweet I wanted to kiss her. I had my very own nurse, not shared with anyone — everyone in recovery did. That’s luxury, I must say. Kaiser’s doing me right.

Came home and tried to sleep, but at 4:45am I decided to go back into ER — couldn’t sleep because my breathing was so obstructed by swelling that every time I fell asleep, I would choke myself awake, and the advice nurse said I should be seen. They gave me some steriods (yech) to help with the swelling, and I was home again by 10am.

The pain is bad. Nothing to do about that. The meds are adequate for 2 of the 4 hours, and then the next 2, while I’m waiting for the next dose, are no fun at all.

There. That is your update. I will try to stay offline and just let the pictures do the talking, but you all are right THERE and I can talk to you, and it doesn’t hurt at all to type…..

 

SO GRUMPY. Found out yesterday (they only tell you the day before) that instead of a morning surgery, I’m having an evening surgery today, so I don’t go in until 3pm. Why does that make me grumpy? Because I CAN’T EAT or, and in one hour, I have to stop drinking. Bah. It is much better to do this kind of thing butt-ass early in the morning, when you’re going to be grumpy anyway. You know?

So I did it the best way I could figure — went out for a big ole sushi dinner last night, stayed up late, snacking, and then woke up at 7am to eat a piece of toast. Then I went and sat on the porch in my robe and ate the last of the Creme Brulee ice cream. Because I know that ice cream thing is a LIE, people. Preemptive ice-cream strategy, yes. Can’t hurt, says I.

Then I went back to bed and read a while and fell back asleep. Actually managed to doze till almost twelve, so I missed those awake-hungry hours. (I’m one of those who has to have breakfast and a mid-morning snack or my blood sugar drops and I’m miserable.)

And now kittens are eating and Digit has et (and is crawling up the chair to see me now, in fact). Oh, he’s doing so well. Poor thing has to wear the collar for another whole WEEK — the doc wanted him to fully, fully heal from the surgery — with his malnutrition he was having a hard time with that. Every once in a while I take his collar off and let him suck on my clothing, which is SO WONDERFUL, and I mean that, it does my heart good if not my soggy tee-shirts, and then slap it back on as soon as he goes after stitches or staples.

And now I’m signing off, with plans of preblogging photos for y’all in coming days.

Thank for your good thoughts (also putting the condo on the market today — I do nothing by half — will you think good thoughts about that, too? Nothing like a lot of stress all at once!), and maybe I’ll blog under the influence of good strong drugs soon!

Have you finished the new Harry Potter yet? I have to admit that while I have it, I haven’t started it yet. The (second) tonsillectomy is tomorrow (sigh) and I’m saving the book for when I feel better. However, going out on Friday night (the night the books went on sale at midnight) to see a ten o’clock show by my sister Christy and her friend Becky in their band Knockturn Alley, was SO AWESOME.

First of all, it was at this bookshop in the City which had a little outdoor area, seen here. I thought, great! They’ll set up, grown-ups and kids will wander through and listen a bit and then move on. That’ll be neat.

But no. The audience sat and stayed. It was like these kids had been trained to listen to appreciate a band. They were transfixed, and you could just SEE them getting excited when the gals sang about things they knew about (Slitherin, horcruxes, Madame Pomfrey). They were nine years old and their parents were taking them out at all hours to hear music about their favorite book. In their costumes, their faces were glowing.

I liked these two witches, and they LOVED the band. Even requested an encore of one of the songs already sung at the end. Who but a kid would do that?

There were autograph seekers:

and witches asking for advice:

If you haven’t been, go listen to a few of the songs. I swear, Hey Hufflepuff makes me tear up. And Horcruxes NEVER leaves your brain. I guess that makes sense.

And now, me, I’m outta here. I’ll preblog a bunch of picture-days, how’s that? So even while I’m not around, recovering, you’ll have something to amuse you. MWAH!

I’ve been loving this sweater — it’s just right for throwing over a tee-shirt, wearing with jeans or a skirt…..

Specs:

Yarn, GET THIS, is Peaches’n’Cream cotton. I think it cost about nine or ten dollars to make. Yowza!

Pattern, my own. I used the Barbara Walker’s Horseshoe pattern and knitted it from the bottom up, with raglan seams. I swatched, measured how wide each repeat was, measured a favorite sweater and knit it to that. I finished it off with a row of single crochet all the way around, and made up some funky crocet edging for the front. I planned on adding buttons, but I like the hairclip closure….. (No, I didn’t write up the pattern, but I know you can do it. Pick a motif you like, knit bottom up, join the sleeves that you made first, decrease in raglan till it reaches your neck and cast off. Really. Play around.)

The neckline was an experiment, but I like how it turned out:

And from the back:

 

Our camera has this function where you can program it to take 10 rapid-fire pictures. This feature lends itself to hilarity, especially when you go back through them and realize that your wife was standing behind you NOT MOVING, looking exactly like this, for ten shots, and you didn’t know it.

Yep. Good times.

(Cat news: We removed Dig’s pain patch, very sad. But he’s been in the main part of the house now, and he seems to be doing very well. HE DOES NOT LIKE KITTENS. But he tolerates them, which is more than I expected, really.)

I love a good earthquake. The one this morning was a PERFECT earthquake, a nice 4.2 centered right near our house. (Look at that "Location Quality = Excellent." Why yes, Oakland is excellent, thank you.)

I love it when the earthquake starts, and your brain spins for a second, feeling it, waiting. Is this it? Is this the big one? And when you don’t go flying across the room, when you just have to put your hand against the wall to steady yourself, you realize that this is just one you get to ride out and enjoy. And then after the two seconds you’ve spent figuring this all out, you only have about three seconds left to enjoy, but usually I get a whole lot of enjoyment out of that.

(Flashback – I remember living on Saipan and lying on the beach, and watching the sand actually ripple up to us and past, as the little temblors passed through.)

But today’s quake wasn’t that great, though, because I was in the only place I really don’t want to be for an earthquake (besides the obvious, under a great glass skylight on the top floor of an unreinforced ten-story brick building with a jet-fuel line buried underneath the foundation) — I was in the shower. And I was soaping. After I realized the great thump wasn’t the kittens flying off the refrigerator, and I figured out that it was an earthquake, in that that second before I knew it WASN’T the Big One, I pictured myself having to pick through rubble (light, easily repaired fluffy rubble) to get outside where I would be NAKED, me and the neighbor next door who also gets ready at 4:30 in the morning (our bathroom lights glow in friendship although we never speak), and we’d be all NAKED as everyone else ran out wearing robes. Yeah, no thanks. Plus, I had conditioner in my hair, and then it would have run into my eyes, and when it dried it would have been greasy and I would have had to suffer through a disaster with thick, greasy hair and it would have all been horrible.

So I’m glad it was only a 4.2. And oh, brother, the news is playing it up. I’m at work and we’re watching the LIVE BREAKING COVERAGE and seriously, at this moment, they’re walking thruogh a drugstore where some THINGS FELL ON THE GROUND. A few sticks of deodorant, OHMYGOD. There was some glass broken in Montclair! Oh, there was the funniest video shot in a convenience store where a delivery guys walks in, and walks almost all the way out and then pauses. THAT’S IT! They played it over and over and over, until I finally realized that some candy bars fall to the floor at the point where he pauses. CANDY BARS FALLING! RUN!!!

At least HE wasn’t in the shower.