Battlefield Canine Doctor

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I haven’t often blogged about our aging Weimaraner, Lucy, but she’s always been a playful, loyal companion and an awesome family pet.

Over the holidays Lucy had a real scare. She could hardly make it up & down the stairs, she had both an ear infection and a respiratory infection and her paws were swollen beyond recognition.

Fast forward through antibiotic treatments and diagnoses of arthritis and hypothyroidism and she’s made an amazing turnaround. For a pooch who was on death’s door (or very close) she’s made a near total recovery.

Which isn’t to say everything is perfect. One of the side effects of her thyroid issues has been hair loss. One of the side effects of hair loss is me proactively combing out patches that are nearly falling out any way.

Well I should have followed the Hippocratic Oath because my meddling in medicine made things worse. Now, as the hair has grown back in, an itchy Lucy has scratched herself silly and given herself a gash that’s pretty gruesome.

We’ve been cleaning it nightly, washing it and treating it with peroxide but tonight I had enough. Disregarding the fact that I’d already caused enough trouble, I went to the medicine cabinet and returned bearing some neomycin, a gauze pad, an Ace bandage and two butterfly clips.

I’ve approximated some form of World War I dressing more suited for Snoopy’s aerial battles against the Red Baron but what’s good for one dog is good for another, right?

The patient is resting comfortably now and is camera shy, but my handiwork is visible below.

I’ll keep you posted on the patient and the physician. I’m not too sure which one of us is more concerned about the outcome.

She really is a fantastic dog, that Lucy. I’d bandage her wounds any day.

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So Says I

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Listening to a Spotify radio station just now (feature parity with Pandora, IMHO) I got The Shins’ So Says I. If you’re unfamiliar with the song, it’s a great, rocking tune from a band probably better associated with more alternative, janglier stuff.

Granted, it’s still fairly literate/academic, but for a song about materialism/communism/capitalism it’s pretty darn catchy.

The YouTube video is great (and animated)!

The reason I’m posting is because I immediately thought of Gilmore Girls when I heard it and I haven’t thought about that show in a long time. The connection: The Shins performed the song “live” on the show in Season 4.

We caught a few, brief seconds of Parenthood (the current TV show) last night & I saw Lauren Graham on screen so maybe I just have Gilmore brain.

Kismet!
The Shins!
Happy Wednesday!

The Only Way Out Is Through

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I’m a longtime listener (first time caller, natch) to 5by5′s Back to Work podcast.
I was out of work for a while earlier this year; I got laid off.
I’m in a new job now.

New company.
New role.
New people.

Yesterday I learned some upsetting news about my former employer and favorite old colleagues. Not just old as in former, but old as in seasoned. Professionals. Folks that had been there a long time.

So I did what any friend and good coworker would do: I picked up the phone and made some calls.

I got a few voicemails and some texts, but I finally got through to a couple of them.

One was a man who had been my manager. I told him to stay strong. Offered sympathy & support. “This too shall pass”. I think he was genuinely happy to hear from me. Mission accomplished.

The other was a colleague and friend still working there. A little frightened for the future. Not quite sure if things would get better or worse.

We talked for almost an hour then it was time to wrap up. I asked him to have coffee & we agreed on the place and a general timeframe.

Then I made a big change. I had Siri set up the meeting right then & there. On the phone while I was on the phone.

I’m still not perfect at ubiquitous capture, but Evernote helps.

Technology is only one piece of the puzzle. The other is actively choosing to make decisions NOW, not some time in the future.

I wrote it down to remember it THEN, not remember it later.

It’s something I’m doing in my new gig. Writing it all down in an effort to get more of it done.

Merlin Mann is fond of saying the only way out is through. True in productivity as it is in life or your career.

My thoughts go out to all those unfortunate folks this week. Those struggling with joblessness and those struggling to make sense of productivity and “work”.

The only way out is through.

Lucky Baker’s Dozen

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As today is both my 13th wedding anniversary – [hold for applause] – and the second day of the new school year, in which we have two of our FOUR children in public school, you could forgive the Miller household for being TOTALLY FUCKING CRAZY ® TM this morning.

Getting a family of six all moving in the same direction is no easy task, especially now that we’ve decided to walk to school each morning. Since the bell rings at 7:50 this requires us to leave the house at 7:15 and – backing up our day from there – have the entire clan up-n-at’em by 6:30 at the very latest.

So in those scant, precious 45 minutes we need:

6 people dressed
4 people (ideally) fed
2 adults moving things along
0 bumps in the process

For the first few days, at least, we haven’t hit any major snags but I’m sure we’ll find something to hook ourselves upon in the very near future.

One of the factors working in our favor has been the excitement of all the participants in their new endeavors. Technically speaking all 4 kids are in new classrooms so there’s plenty of energy (mostly nervous tension) surrounding new teachers, friends and environments. It’s like the whole house has just had a bottle of Jolt Cola.

So, fueled by adrenaline as we were this morning around 6:45, I took it upon myself to get the youngest two dressed. Evie is 30 months old and Imogen is 14 months old, so neither one can dress themselves but both are very amenable to the “getting dressed” process especially when they can hang out together in their room.

Imogen was dressed first and was hovering around Evie while she lay on the floor. I was changing Evie’s diaper and preparing to pull on her skirt when Imogen, unprovoked, leaned down and tried to bite Evie’s chubby finger. Maybe it looked like a vienna sausage or a cheese puff or maybe she’s just drawn that way (or maybe it’s Shark Week, that’s why). Whatever the case may be, Evie quickly evaded the jaws of death and the following exchange ensued:

Imogen: [Bite attempt]
Evie: [Yanks hands away] NO!!
Imogen: [Stands up]
Both Girls: [Look to Dad for support]
Imogen: [To Evie] NOT! NICE!

I don’t know about you, but the sight and sound of a 14-month-old baby telling her sister “not nice” when said 14-month-old was the aggressor in a biting incident is pretty damn funny.

I’m not really sure that either girl appreciated the humor as much as I did though. My laughter caused Evie to frown (Dad wasn’t protecting her enough) and Imogen to scream.

I finished dressing Evie and went downstairs to feed both girls (and we were only about 10 minutes behind schedule) but that was truly the highlight of my morning.

If nothing else it proves that marriage (and kids) can still bring new, wonderful and potentially (literally) scarring moments at any turn.

Until next time!

Nuts!

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My nine-year-old daughter brought forth the following question while we drove home from Hogwart’s Camp the other evening: why does boys call “them” “nuts”.

I had to stop from driving into a ditch because the “them” meant “nuts” and the “nuts” meant “nuts” and I was about to go some special kind of other “nuts” – something like an aneurysm – just thinking about all the potential ways I didn’t want to discuss this topic with the intelligent, funny, athletic and gorgeous nine-year-old in the backseat.

She’s still my little girl, after all (no matter how 50′s paternalistic that sounds).

And while I have no trouble imagining her as a respected lawyer or a talented heart surgeon, I have an incredibly hard time with her using the term “nuts” and then laughing like the child she still is. It just doesn’t jibe with what I know about her and what I’ve experienced about her personality over the past nine years.

9.
Nine.
NINE!
(Her ENTIRE life!)

No one tells you these things when you become a parent.

“Oh, Seth, that first time your pre-teen daughter asks you about not-so-clever nicknames for boys’ genitals (nads, junk, twig & berries, balls), it’ll just be a hoot!”

No.

They just lob sexist crap like “you’ll have to beat the boys away with a stick” or “you’ll have to lock her up” or “you’ll have to buy a shotgun“.

You get the gist.

I’m not sure the truth is any better than the trite lies. The real truth is that now I have to explain that boys use all kinds of words to describe themselves (and her). Don’t envy me.

In short: I was/am woefully underprepared for her tweenagedom and I’d like it to stop post hast, please and thank you very much.

That said, I want to inform her.
I don’t want to hide sex or sexuality from her.
I want her to be knowledgeable and comfortable and prepared in every way, shape, and form she can be.

I just didn’t realize I’d be the Urban Dictionary for genital slang to a kid who isn’t yet in double digits.

The actual definition conversation hasn’t taken place yet, but I’m actively using any forum I can think of to solicit feedback. I’d love to hear from folks about which “dirty word” or piece of filthy sex slang you learned first, whom you learned it from and when your parents had any form of “the talk” with you.

You know, for research.

I definitely dodged a bullet though, since we were pulling into the driveway when she brought up the topic (while my in-laws were visiting), so I punted saying I “didn’t want to get into it now” or some such parental excuse.

I can feel the “next time” coming soon though.
Sooner than I would have imagined or liked, but I don’t have to imagine or like her being uninformed – I can do something about that.

Which may be this: never trust your kid at a Hogwart’s Camp at a church. It’s unnatural the kinds of things (witchcraft, monotheism, “nuts”) they’ll pick up there.

Until next time, gentle reader, watch your nuts.