Still waiting for the real problems to start.
I've often noted that my life consists of me whining (whinging?) about fairly minor problems only to notice that people all around me are having much worse troubles. For example, a 2-year old annoying rash that I'm not going to show you unless we're both drunk, a son who manages to get a C in "Introduction to Astronomy" at community college, but is still insisting that he's going to be a "video game designer" despite any demonstrable evidence of skills in graphic arts, coding or even game design beyond making some fairly wicked Magic decks for himself, his friends and me. Oh, and I still haven't gotten my latest permanent crown because it didn't fit and the lab hasn't sent it back yet, so the dentist keeps postponing the appointment.
Mind-rending stuff, right there.
Meanwhile, on Xmas eve we got the call that my wife's sister's daughter, 9 years old, who hadn't been "feeling well" all week had been sent first to the ER and then to CHOP (Children's Hospital of Philadelphia) where they determined that her blood sugar was something like 7x normal. Good news is that they stabilized her and she improved steadily and she came home again yesterday. Bad news is that the diagnosis was exactly what you think it was: juvenile diabetes. So, the main reason she was in the hospital through the weekend and Monday was because both she and her mom needed to be trained in how to deal with her condition. SWHTL is going to visit tomorrow and take mom out for lunch and general mental health. We're also going to invite the whole family over for an early new year's eve dinner and movie (since their other daughter is only 4).
(Porkchop offered to go down on Xmas day, but dad didn't seem to welcome the idea too much. I was relieved because I realized that at this point PDC hasn't been out of his closet in a couple of years, it would be quite a job to get his bag of tricks assembled and working - not to mention shaving my head and beard so he could get his face on.)
Warning: The following content is gratuitously cute and has no pathos, comedy, drama or any otherwise redeeming value:
As to the guinea pig - we got Yumé for our daughter for Christmas 2 years ago now and, well, Yumé does not like to be handled. She's not mean, never bites harder than the tiniest bit of pressure to say "stop that", but she is terrified of being picked up.
So, when we first got her I would go into my daughter's room every couple of days to check to check on Yumé, make sure she had water and food, that sort of thing and she would always stuff herself into or under whatever cover she could find. I would always bring her a carrot and, over time, I got her to the point where she would wait by the cage door for me, grab the carrot and then dash for cover - just in case. I tried (and Lamb tried) many times to acclimate her to be being held, or to being in a pen in the living room, but Yumé wasn't having any of it. She'd gum our fingers a bit while we held her (never enough to hurt, mind you) and, while in the living room, try to find the most covered spot of the pen to sit very, very, still in.
Anyway, for the past year I haven't once found her without water or food, so I haven't been checking as often - but what happened instead is that when Yumé would hear me walking up the steps she'd start squeaking softly, to see if I'd come in and check on her. Then, a few weeks ago, she seemed to finally realize she likes being petted - she'd actually stretch out under my fingers so I could scratch her neck and back.
But the capstone came yesterday when I moved her into the living room, in her pen, and just sat scratching her neck while we listened to Christmas music - she started making a noise I'd never heard before, something between a cat's purr and an old digital phone ringer. (purp purp purp) This went on for a couple of hours while I occasionally gave her cauliflower and broccoli.
And, today, when I went into Lamb's room to talk to Lamb, Yumé let loose with a squeal that could have cracked the windows and didn't stop till I gave her some timothy hay.
It's nice to be loved, but does it have to be so hard on my ears?
Mind-rending stuff, right there.
Meanwhile, on Xmas eve we got the call that my wife's sister's daughter, 9 years old, who hadn't been "feeling well" all week had been sent first to the ER and then to CHOP (Children's Hospital of Philadelphia) where they determined that her blood sugar was something like 7x normal. Good news is that they stabilized her and she improved steadily and she came home again yesterday. Bad news is that the diagnosis was exactly what you think it was: juvenile diabetes. So, the main reason she was in the hospital through the weekend and Monday was because both she and her mom needed to be trained in how to deal with her condition. SWHTL is going to visit tomorrow and take mom out for lunch and general mental health. We're also going to invite the whole family over for an early new year's eve dinner and movie (since their other daughter is only 4).
(Porkchop offered to go down on Xmas day, but dad didn't seem to welcome the idea too much. I was relieved because I realized that at this point PDC hasn't been out of his closet in a couple of years, it would be quite a job to get his bag of tricks assembled and working - not to mention shaving my head and beard so he could get his face on.)
Warning: The following content is gratuitously cute and has no pathos, comedy, drama or any otherwise redeeming value:
As to the guinea pig - we got Yumé for our daughter for Christmas 2 years ago now and, well, Yumé does not like to be handled. She's not mean, never bites harder than the tiniest bit of pressure to say "stop that", but she is terrified of being picked up.
So, when we first got her I would go into my daughter's room every couple of days to check to check on Yumé, make sure she had water and food, that sort of thing and she would always stuff herself into or under whatever cover she could find. I would always bring her a carrot and, over time, I got her to the point where she would wait by the cage door for me, grab the carrot and then dash for cover - just in case. I tried (and Lamb tried) many times to acclimate her to be being held, or to being in a pen in the living room, but Yumé wasn't having any of it. She'd gum our fingers a bit while we held her (never enough to hurt, mind you) and, while in the living room, try to find the most covered spot of the pen to sit very, very, still in.
Anyway, for the past year I haven't once found her without water or food, so I haven't been checking as often - but what happened instead is that when Yumé would hear me walking up the steps she'd start squeaking softly, to see if I'd come in and check on her. Then, a few weeks ago, she seemed to finally realize she likes being petted - she'd actually stretch out under my fingers so I could scratch her neck and back.
But the capstone came yesterday when I moved her into the living room, in her pen, and just sat scratching her neck while we listened to Christmas music - she started making a noise I'd never heard before, something between a cat's purr and an old digital phone ringer. (purp purp purp) This went on for a couple of hours while I occasionally gave her cauliflower and broccoli.
And, today, when I went into Lamb's room to talk to Lamb, Yumé let loose with a squeal that could have cracked the windows and didn't stop till I gave her some timothy hay.
It's nice to be loved, but does it have to be so hard on my ears?
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