Thursday, September 30, 2004

the $317 cat fight

I have two kitties. Their names are Toots (black and white),and Meow Meow (siamese).
I was sitting on the couch last friday and toots was rubbing his head all over my face. Oh, how sweet.

Sweet wasn't the smell I smelled all the sudden as this was happening, it was more like shit. yeah, shit turds. Something was stinking really bad, I inspected his body expecting to find a smear of crap somewhere on his body only to find a HOLE in his head with some clear, STINKY snot like stuff coming out of it. The hole was about the size of the tip of a pencil eraser and it was WIDE open. I mean, if I pulled his ear up I could see inside his head.
uuugggh...Y'all??...I got a W E A K stomach.....alright?
next thing I know I have toots locked in the bathroom, cleaning this HOLE with betadine & dr. browners soap and smearing triple antibiotic cream all over it. gagging. I wrap it up (there was surgical tape all around his head, kinda funny.) then I grabbed the ever handy funnel-to-keep-from-touching-it hood and strapped it on him. still gagging.

-he goes outside. he's the hunter that makes "the croc hunter" look like a sissy.- so I had no idea what he could've gotten into. I had already scheduled a vet appointment for him because he needed to get his shots, so I was glad that the vet could take a look at it within a few days.

It started to get better and scabbed up real good.


so lets fast forward to the wednesday, when I took toots for his checkup. NO problems there, and everything went well ~except ONE THING that involves two women leading a black dog into room no.1 and leaving crying. bawling. and me then putting it together, no matter how hard I tried not to, and glancing in the back room while paying and seeing a FULL trash bag on the floor. and the little bit of yelping that everyone waiting could hear. THATSALLI'MGONNASAYABOUTTHAT.

I got home (crying because of what I just mentioned) and let him out of the carrier with all of his shots, wormings and HOLE inspection. alright, I feel so much better, but I'm still wondering what happ~
here comes Meow. THIS ONE is carring on with the whiney meow that I KNOW says "hey, check me out, something's wrong." so I begin the familiar inspection process. again.

What I find is startling to say the least. My sweet adorable three legged pussy cat has an abcess almost the size of a golf ball on the right side of his head.
"swallowUGMPLGFswallow"
it looks like the hair is missing, there is no blood, but there is what looks like a hickey over four little marks. so (this is funny) I take HIM into the bathroom and clean it off and reinact the ritual. only this time it wasn't helping, this sucker was INSIDE the skin. so I put some ice on it. he didnt like that AT ALL. oh, and by the way. his hair is coming out profusely. He is shedding immensely from the stress and I could probably make myself a blanket with the cat hair that my hand was full of as I was holding him.
Immediently called the vet. First thing in the morning drove him there.

He had an abcess alright. The doctor came in and informed me that he was going to have to keep Meow for the day and fix him up. That entailed draining the bump, and.. awh hell, lets throw in cleaning out his anal sacks too. (he was acting funny during my inspecton when I touched the dock of his tail also). isnt that GROSE????? cleaning out anal sacks. grose. gaAagging.

so later in the evening I went to pick up my darling siamese kitty. here he is:

yeah. nice.
yeah, REALLY. SORRY. if anyone has trouble looking at it. you need to see in in living color!
when he took him out of the carrier I was horrified. I had to turn away. Not as much away as I had to turn when I saw him after his leg amputation, but STILL, away.
"oh geeze dr. singh, I get really queesy."
"well, you should be over that by now.. (dr. singh is hindu and he's SO adorable with that accent.) that was good one, SO MUCH PUSS, (holding his hands out cupping BOTH of them) this much PUSS I take out!"
he continues..
"There was dead skin, I cut away about two inches of dead skin and I insert drain tube, you probably have to clean with peroxide little bit."
"awh man, doctor." gagging.

...I had read about this procedure online the night before, so I was ready for it. I WASN'T ready for "PUSS". Just like you never say "fart" around Lori, you never say "PUSS" around ME.

then he says: "bring the baby monday and I take out tube. alright. monday...christine?"
"uuuuh, sure. monday. take out drain tube."
I asked him if the two of them could've done this to each other. He said probably. They havent really been outside very much, and they defidently havent been outside at night lately. ~Toots has a personal vendetta against the little black kitty next door, he comes out at night.
Sometimes they fight when I'm home, and I think of how it might've ended if I haden't broken it up. well, THIS is what might've happened. Three hundred and seventeen dollars. and the only reason I am focusing on that is that it sounds like a good title for my entry and that I do NOT HAVE spare three hhhhhundred and seventeen dollars. not in the bank, not in a shoebox, not under my bed. That's alright though, I love my pussy cats and I have great appreciation for Dr. Singh letting me post date four checks untill november 22. Thank you to Dr. Singh and his assistant Dhillon for taking care of my kitties. I owe you a billion post dated checks.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

artsyfartsy clickerpants


alright, so now that it has taken me a successful 25 minutes of deductive reasoning (good scorpio trait) I have figured the html to post a few little pictures next to each other (WITH LINKS!!). a feat, to some is "PFFSssssFFT, nothin." to me is a major step.
SO what I was going to say.
I was reading the Communication Arts "interactive Annual 10". ~Reading the latest CA should be a joy to professional graphic designers and illustrators everywhere.~ Beside PRINT magazine, I don't think that any publication puts more inspiring, motovational work between 60 or 80 pages every month. (AALLLriGHt, US WEEKLY does a preeeety good job. )
-I love it so much that when it gets delivered to my boss' mailbox I have rigged a special "C.A." alert system that rings bells, sounds buzzers and shoots confetti cannons off right next to my desk. yep. Ahhhnd, I feel so strongly about it, I had plans all drawn up to facilitate him receiving a little electrical shock as he reached for it (in revenge of him getting it in HIS mailbox instead of MINE) every month, but that is no where near the positive reinforcement I need to get my CA faster.-
Here are two GREAT sites that I found interesting....
1.COLOR IN MOTION! ... This site was designed by Maria Cortes, for her M.F.A. thesis.
she says..."by far, the most challenging task was creating believable human movement for the characters. in addition consulting animation books, I often found myself in front of the mirror jumping up and down, playing various roles...."
The stick figs are SO cute you start to develop feelings for them. Her choices of music for each color replace for me, what body language conveys in a physical conversation. I thought the music was perfect. If I were a internet web site, I would want to be one like "color in motion".
2. MR. PICASSOHEAD! A fun way to waste time for fans of "eLouai's Candybar Doll maker" and "make a snowflake". so cute, I suggest you get over there and see your masterpiece, aheey sahp.
~holy god! the TOTAL FILE SIZE of the whole site is 700k!!!! That seems really good to me, even though I don't know anything. I really need to get my ass to web design school. I WANT to learn THIS STUFF.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

thinking with headphones

Jamiroquai says that the future is made up of virtual insanity, I think the PRESENT is made up virtual insanity.
an ween says go piss up a rope. I think that too.

is it possible for someone to make cd players with earphones go up to "blow your eardrums out"? mine is never loud enough. even turned up to 25. I keep pressing that button, but it just wont give me 26.

done r git.

if you have a vinyl cutout sticker on the back window of your automobile that says "GIT R DONE", your cool.
that makes more than half the population of Youngstown REALLY REALLY COOL.

seeing trails

I just can't figure out why someone would make the pointer have some sort of stupid ass trails that follow you all around on their web page. that is. so. annoying. it's stupid. when that happens to me I hope that my pointer turns into a little exacto knife that I can use to shred your webpage into pieces.

this bridge is in mill creek park, it has over 50 names. I call it the silver bridge by the flats where all the hippies hang out and smoke pot.

pider.
Click to enlarge
I found this while scouting spots for a photo shoot for the hockey team my company owns. They want shots that have a real "youngstown" feeling to them...I think this broken down, rusty, old, useless steelmill feels alot like youngstown.
ever since I was little, I always imagined it as people sliding down the tubes, and walking up those steep covered staircase looking contraptions, marching up and down with their army green plastic lunchboxes and grime covered faces. like something out of METROPOLIS.

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

holy hurricane batman!

could you imagine waiting in line for ice and water and noticing your front door laying in the road, 15 miles away from your house? or getting back home and seeing your car IN YOUR POOL?? or getting back home and THERE. IS. NO. HOME.???
I was looking at the pensacola news journal and checking out all of the pictures of the most magnificent beachtown that I ever lived in (the ONLY beachtown I ever lived in). in ruins. A few days ago I had no idea of the extent of the devastation.
A email from a friend said that it is much worse than anyone can ever imagine. they are reporting deaths, but the actual number is way higher than what they are quoting. there is no water, or electricity. No electric for months! ugh.
Pensacolans were told at first not to drink or touch the water, then they were told they can bathe in it, but don't let it near the face. shit. you see, there is a little problem with the water treatment plant. it's GONE. so all the shit-turds are now mixed with the one thing that will keep you alive, the UNsalted water.
It leaves me speechless to look at those pictures and realize the wrath that was Ivan. speechless. and heavy in the heart. not a god damn thing to joke about. I'm hoping that the most damage is minimal, the spirits are positive and friends, relatives and critters are safe and sound.

I would drop everything in a new york minute if I could go down there and help out in ANY way. but right now I would only be another body using up very very valuable resources.

and I REALLY have no idea the extent of it all.

Friday, September 17, 2004

non-evacuation conversation

I hope all of my friends in Pensacola are SAFE with minimal damage and out taking lots of pictures to send to me. I was keeping track of Ivan the whole time, how exciting! I just know a few of you rode out the storm teathered to the pensacola beach pier....
me: "well... then you drive my car and I will drive mom's."
frankie: "then why don't YOU drive YOUR car and I'LL drive mom's?"
~an exchange between my brother and I while getting ready to leave the hospital.

computer blue

You know you've been working on a computer too long when you can't find something and the first thing you think is "COMMAND F" or you pull out in front of a car and think "COMMAND Z" ...and you're not ANYWHERE near a keyboard. we're breeding mutants, I tell ya.

update-tion


here's a picture of my new canfield fair t-shirt! I LOVE IT!! and I bough it from the 4H alumni. represent!
I REALLY REALLY want to post the rest of the photos I took at the fair, but I can't figure out how to create a photo album the right way. UMpfGRrr. I will though. but not now. my eyes are bulging out of my head.

Thursday, September 16, 2004

a very good boy


This is my dog mutch. yeah, mutch. mutch is learning with help from "the dog listener" by jan fennel that I AM the alpha. We are on our way to me not having to go exploring boardman when I take my eyes off of him for two seconds. (I dont want to have to have him on a lead all the dang time!)
the book has given me helpful advice in the "horse whisperer" sort of way. It's actually very much like the concept of whispering to horses, it's getting him to want to make the right choice instead of controlling him with fear. A-HA! It has given me the knowledge to behave as the BOSS bitch and he is taking beautifully to it. I have to give him signs that I am the leader of the pack, before I was sending him mixed messages. I HIGHLY recommend this read for anyone having trouble with their dog.
the next chapter I will be getting to is "car ride hell". "HHRRRRrrrh snort rrrrrrRRRRRrrrrRR snort hHHHHHRRRrrrrr......." he whines like a thirteen year old in the car. he needs to know that I am the leader of the hunt and that it is not his job to do what he does, I am showing him he is a strong member of the pack by taking him with me. all he has to do is sit back (HA, yeah, riggght.) let me worry about the speed limit and enjoy being a dog. that's what jan says.

only take calls during commercials.


Tonite, after returning home from the craziness, it was a very pleasent surprise to remember that the NEW SURVIVOR(!!!!) is on!!!!!
yeaaaay! I LOVE SURVIVOR!!!
then, while letting the cats in, I spotted this on my porch....would you take a look at that? how cute is that?? the 5 little neighbor boys play at my house when I'm not here. I come home and there are toy guns, and fake cell phones, various balls and sticks scattered through out my yard. It's so cute. they are so much fun! ~ it has nothing to do with the fact that I am big enough to over power them in a game of football either.

Monday, September 13, 2004

stress test was false negative.

I have been away mostly all week. I was in cleveland ohio. I was at the cleveland clinic coronory intensive care unit building G-20, bed 4. My father had a heart attack driving up rt. 11 on his way to the lakehouse last friday. He was rushed to Ashtabula General where the 350 lb. DOCTOR was pestered and pestered for ginger ale, and morphine while we all paced the floor waiting for the helicopter to arrive and swiftly, I said SWIFTLY transport him to the Cleveland Clinic as we watched the lady with all three of her non-sock wearing, just-ate-a-fudgecicle looking children scurring around the medical equipment.
The Cleveland Clinic is NUMBER ONE hospital for any coronary care anywhere. anyhow.
We were much more comfortable when he was stabilized and lying in the room five feet away from some of the world's most trusted doctors and nurses. It took them a half hour to get him to the point he was out of pain. the doctor came in and asked my dad what level his pain was, and his reply was "tragic." They had him on nitro and some blood thinners of course, plus they were giving him blood pressure meds. and xanax. He was comfotable now, so much better.
It pretty much continued like that thru tuesday nite when he was the only person in the intensive care that wanted to actually get up and take a shower, also, he was to get ready for the cathiterization to see what was blocking the blood flow to his heart. that was scheduled for the next day (Wed.)
That morning we drove to the hospital from the lakehouse where we were all staying, made our way to the second floor, and waited in the" family" waiting area for the doctor to take us in the "family consultation" room and tell us what he found and what was going to have to be done about it. The deal was, that: if they found any major heat damage they were going to have to do a bypass via open heart surgery, but if they found minimal damage that could be fixed with "stints" then they would go ahead and intervene....no open heart surgery.
my brother, my mom, aunt joycie-poo, and I sat in that room for a good three hours, so we were thinking positively of the outcome. the doctor finally appeared and let us know that they were infact able to place "stints" into my dad's heart , 3 of 'em. and the muscle damage to the heart was minimal. He didn't have a "massive" heart attack because the blockage wasnt in any of the three main veins going into the heart, it was in an offshoot. or two. they then wisked him upstairs into his new shower having room. they released him on thurs. (today) and he is at the lakehouse relaxing. With my mom and my brother running the business, he can take it easy for a while and recover. he stopped smoking. he kinda had no choice, and when the doctor told him, "well, your home free now, you dont have any more nicotine in your system after the last few days.."
his reply was "oh yeah, doc, I didn't even notice the withdrawl.."
my mom and I looked at each other and I'm sure we were both thinking "thank god for xanax" because they were FEEDING it to him. I am coy when I say, THEY HAD TO.
There are no words to describe how thankful I am to the doctors that took care of him and that he made it through this. I love my father with every emotion and drop of blood in my veins. I still need him to guide me. Thank you god. thank you.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

the ooze

I'm sitting here starving ( I had to go to the bank on my lunch) thinking about the mess in my basement. note to self: soon you will learn to put the plug in the drain when remnants of a hurricane are passing by your house. and learn which way the valve is in "off" position too, while your at it.
I noticed that there are comments left by my friends caling me a dyke. I'm not a dyke. my friends and I just call each other that. it's like, if you saw your boy/girl and said "hey, bitch/cracka/my man, what's up?" ~ it's a term of endearment. it's saying: "hey, your cool, you're one of the coolest girls in the world." but shorter. no disrespect meant to the real dykes out there. lipstick or bulldog. I love ya all.

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

AUUUgght.

why isnt my blog working???

cow patties and cotton candy

So here it is, September. September is pretty bittersweet for me, you see, september means that Labor Day is coming soon, and Labor day of course, means that summer is coming to an end. Which is the worst thing that can ever happen (in my opinion) each year. No disrespect to autumn though... I get overwhelmed by the olfactory hues of fall.
Anyway.
God's only saving grace about Labor Day AND Youngstown Ohio is CANFIELD FAIR!
that's the sah-WHeeeet part of "bittersweet".
I LOVE the Canfield Fair. let me say it again, I LOOOOOVE the Canfield Fair! when I lived away from this city, I swear the only things I missed were 1. Mill Creek Park AND 2. THE FAIR! There is nothing bad about the fair. even if it rains, hails, or tornados the fair is still fun. for me. each year, I cant wait to see the winner of the "dress a vegetable" contest!
The canfield fair has everything you could ever ask for in a county fair. from airbrush t-shirts to the best haylage. the finest art to the largest punkin (780 LBS!!). the fattest hog to the freshest apple-having candy apple. from hot tubs to quilts. everything in between. I don't mind all of the animal smells, sounds or the embarrassing amount of shit on a cows rear end...I infact, feel real at home around shit . (uhh..? should I have said that?) I'll step in it and skip around in joy knowing there is agriculture on the sole of my shoe. why? well, because there is agriculture in the soul of christine.
I saw a cute farm girl with a T-Shirt that said : "I WORK. YOU EAT. "
I'll buy it.

Friday, September 03, 2004

horses. I like em.

There is something inside me that I just can't shake no matter how hard the world wants me to. My love for horses. I don't where it comes from genetically but a respected friend and astrologer said it was my sag ascendant.

After just going to the fair and seeing so many beautiful horses and getting jealous of all those cute little 4Hers with their, cute little bows, tall boots, and cute million dollar jumping saddles, I thought I'd write a little about this thing that tugs at my insides EVERYday. This THING that will bring tears to my eyes in a heartbeat, this THING that has come in and out of my life for years now. Because, you see, this THING is the GOAL. At the present time, this THING is on hiatus. I am sitting in front of a Sony Trinitron all day, thinking of how to bring the THING alive again.

My horse interest started when I was maybe 6 years old. Had a few years of horsie stuff in 4H. I remember really loving it, but never really got a chance to learn to ride well there. Many moons later I volunteered many hours at a million dollar Therapeutic Riding Center in Northeastern Ohio. My [then] boyfriend and I became the caretakers of that facility. Three interviews. 32 horses. Barn. Offices. And a BIG ASS indoor banquet room. We lived there on the property, and had to work for our rent. That was the "deal" (...and the "deal" much changed, lets say- morphed) Our rent was $1500 a MONTH. Caretakers that paid THAT MUCH for a house. A house we wouldn't even RENT. Were we working our asses off? We weren't just working our asses off, we were KICKING ASS all over those 47 acres. We had it DOWN. And then we had Barbacue!!

At the time I was rediscovering my love of horses and really wanted to learn to ride I was a sponge soaking up everything horses. I would have learned to ride well here, except all the women that ran the place weren't so reserved on passing judgement. I cried when we weren't included in the fund raising trail rides. But we were pressure washing the arena that's for sure.

We were deceived because they knew that we (I) really wanted it. My intentions aren't to cloud my feelings for the institution, working with therapeutic horses and riders was a huge experience for me of the heart kind. I have the utmost respect for it. My negativity comes so harshly because it was something I respected so much. Something that I felt, I ASSUMED would be operated with heart, er- I mean people with heart. At least people that knew that CARETAKERS DON'T PAY $1500 a month for a house when it states on the contract that they HAVE to live on the property.

My emotions were a wreck because (well, for one, I hadn't met xanex yet) and I LOVED living there. I'll never forget looking out my front door at dusk in the summer heat and seeing the herd out in the front pasture and hearing them do that odd howling call to the mule across the street . Silhouettes of horses being horses. tails swooshing and all. on my front yard.
and so we moved. from there to...
Akron Oh. 2001 (?) we were living in Cuyhoga Falls. uck. I got a job at the Girls Scount camp as an beginner instructor. I was working there for a short while, my boyfriend got a kickass job with a great band so we split to Hotlanta....

In Atlanta (YAY!), while working as a graphic designer, I was lucky enough to squeeze into the last spot for instructors at The Gilrl Scout camp outside of the city. Worked out well because I had just left a job with the Girl Scouts! THAT was a fun job. I really enjoyed teaching the girls to ride, I learned more about riding, shoeing, horse health...and I saw a lot of new insects that don't live up north!
I had to do lesson plans, choose horses, organize the girls, lead trail rides, and choreograph a show for the end of camp session. fun. Once during every camp session the barn crew would get together, saddle up the horse of our choice, and deliver the mail to the girls. Pony Express. Galloping into the separate camp areas...the girls eyes would light up just hearing the clomping of the hooves in the distance. What a great time!

We also took the horses into the woods and cantered through the many trails, jumping over trees and stopping by the lake to take a little swim on horseback. Camp pine acres was the place I galloped a horse for the first time- through the woods. It was also there that I jumped a horse over a fence for the first time. IT. IS. AMAZING. Some folks believe in NASCAR, some believe in astronauts. I BELIEVE in THIS.

That ended when camp ended and I continued working at my day job and reading anything "horse" I could get my hands on....until in 2002 we moved to Pensacola Florida.

(YEeehHHHHhhYYEE!!!) I was saturn out like crazy and had a real hard time finding a job. During that "time" I found Pensacola Riding Academy. Home of classically taught classical dressage (dress-ahhhjGhe). The French kind. It was just north of where I lived. about 20 minutes. I began by working in the mornings and then I would have an hour lesson at noon each day. I didn't mind getting up so early, or the immense work first thing in the morning, OR the GOD AWFUL SMELL OF THE PAPER FACTORY AT 6:30AM because I was on my way to the barn.

Each day I couldn't wait until that last wheelbarrow was empty and I was zipping up my half chaps and heading out to the back barn to Chloe, a 4 year old Arabian mare I was training. She was beautiful, and so comfortable to ride. she would give a little "haaay! look at me!" buck after she did something new, so proud of herself... It was there that I learned new words like: collection, extension, conformation, and warmblood . The correct meaning to silly phrases such as: "push with your leg", "keep him on the bit", and "your on the wrong lead". I learned what "healthy" looks like. A dressage horse. A jumping horse. What a SPORT HORSE looks like (compared to the horses at some pay-by-the-hour trail riding place). also, I'll never forget how funny it sounds when a french man is yelling obscenities at you across an entire dressage arena...."cisTINE OW DO YOU EXPEHHht to be a PRO fehSHEN AHL??!" haa.

I experienced how "natural." and "native" it is to ride with NO STIRRUPS. a black and blue ass is a frightening sight, lemme tell ya. That's old school. None-the-less it is worth it after a few months of riding with no stirrups, and you realize you can crush a soda can between your thighs.

The conundrum was that I wasn't making much money learning to ride or, crushing cans between my thighs. I was looking for a full time graphics job, and finally got hired at a promotional company designing screen printed t-shirts. So I worked there.

I rode for a while also, but my job got out too late in the evening to go ride the dressage horses that were already worked, and the stalls had already been cleaned...so I'd have to pay, for an hour of the Frenchman screaming and yelling (I LOVED the screaming and yelling!). I found a wonderful place to go and train hunter jumpers in the evening, it was farther away then the riding academy but they had lights on the outdoor arena. By this time I was athletic enough to go out and actually help train a horse. I could ride. I wasn't even close to being EXPERT Dressage Master or Grand Prix jumper, but I wasn't afraid to jump on any horse and take 'em for a spin.
THEN I butterflied my left second toe, bone and all with a camping hatchet found in the woods, under a bunch of leaves with all the rust of a junkyard conglomerate married to it.
that's a WHOLE 'nother story ya'all. and a good one.
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