A Pox in my House

So the husband had to get vaccinated for smallpox the other day. They injected him with bovine smallpox, and he warned me that he is “mildly contagious” at the injection site. The little hole they punched in his upper arm is supposed to swell up like a pimple, burst, ooze, and then crust over. Eventually, it will heal, but the process is going to take 4-6 weeks. In the meantime, he has to let the area air out. He is going to wear undershirts that the wound can ooze onto. We have a biohazard bin (aka old laundry basket) set up so he can separate the contaminated items, because they need to be washed in very hot water. FUN STUFF. I’m hoping I can get him to handle the pus-stained laundry items. As gross as it’s going to be, it also remains an interesting reminder that smallpox has not been eradicated in all parts of the world.

Prognosis: Phlegm

Looks like the cough is going to be more productive than I am today…

Hackity Hack

So I’ve managed to contract the lovely virus that’s kept my daughter up many nights this last week. My throat has been sore for the last four days. Last night, to my husband’s amusement, I lost my voice entirely while extrapolating on the outcome of the Oscars. I have my voice back today, but I sound like a bass, and I can’t fight the compulsion to cough. At least poor Violet is feeling better today: she, too, had been losing her little voice off and on. It would cut out while she was in the middle of singing the alphabet song. Yesterday, she woke up suddenly from her nap, coughing so hard that she couldn’t catch her breath. Her coughing today has been far more sporadic, and she seems in better spirits. I wish I could say the same for myself. I’d like to crawl into bed and sleep for about a week, but unfortunately that’s not an option…

Notes for the Hubby

Dearest Husband,

It is called a dishwasher, not a "cheese eater."

Also, the cat does not appreciate it when you wear her as a scarf. That is why she makes that peculiar yowling sound...

Pet-specific, Perhaps?

The Rapid City Journal’s online edition has a daily poll. Today, the question is: “How would you dispose of your deceased pet?” The first option offered: “Flush down toilet.” And I thought to my sick self, it would be awfully hard to flush a dead cat down the toilet…

Poor Nermal

The slightly-less-tubby of our two gargantuan cats has been crying and vomiting all morning. The throwing up isn't new, but the crying certainly is. I put some allergy solution on her and brushed her for as long as I could stand. I'll have to enlist the hubby's help in giving her a real bath tonight. He always makes jokes about what a useless cat she is, but I know he loves her. She's a lot like me: when people come over, her first instinct is to run and hide under the bed. She also doesn't adapt well to change, and frequently hisses at my husband when he starts moving furniture around. Indeed, she is a neurotic little beast, but she is also a faithful fuzzy companion for me. If she doesn't stop hacking up by tomorrow, we'll definitely be taking her to the vet...

Yesterday

My sister called me yesterday morning to tell me she’d gotten married. Congratulations, Bitty, to you, your husband, and little Hannah. I love you, always and forever, my little sister…

Inside-Out

I awoke this morning to find a lovely blanket of snow covering the ground outside. Inside, one of the cats had decided it would be best to puke on every conceivable carpeted area in the house. Joy.

For Dad

Katie Casey was baseball mad.
Had the fever and had it bad.
Just to root for the home town crew,
Ev'ry sou Katie blew.
On a Saturday, her young beau
Called to see if she'd like to go
To see a show, but Miss Kate said,
"No, I'll tell you what you can do."

"Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd.
Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,
I don't care if I never get back,
Let me root, root, root for the home team,
If they don't win it's a shame.
For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out,
At the old ball game."

Katie Casey saw all the games,
Knew the players by their first names;
Told the umpire he was wrong,
All along, good and strong.
When the score was just two to two,
Katie Casey knew what to do,
Just to cheer up the boys she knew,
She made the gang sing this song:

"Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd.
Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,
I don't care if I never get back,
Let me root, root, root for the home team,
If they don't win it's a shame.
For it's one, two, three strikes, you’re out,
At the old ball game."

--Jack Norworth, Take Me Out to the Ball Game (1908)

Mourning my Morning

Here’s a summary of my night/morning:

11:00 PM—I stop writing and go to bed.

12-12:30 AM—I fall asleep.

4:07 AM—Violet awakens, and proceeds to have deep discussion with her stuffed animals.

4:34 AM—I give up to go change Violet’s diaper, and encourage her to go back to sleep. Upon my return to the bedroom, I turn the baby monitor off.

5:02 AM—Violet finally stops talking. I could still hear her sans the monitor because our walls are so delightfully thin.

5:22 AM—I am awakened from dozing by a plane engine.

5:45 AM—I hear buzzing that sounds like my cell phone, and seems to be coming from upstairs. I run upstairs, thinking there is some kind of family emergency going on. It wasn’t my cell phone, and I wasn’t hallucinating, because my husband also heard it and got up to check the location of his own phone. It must have been emanating from the neighbor’s house, courtesy of the thin walls on the other side of our bedroom.

6:14 AM—My husband gets a call from his boss, regarding a fax. An exhausted husband kindly re-sets the alarm, which was due to go off at 6:30.

7:00 AM—The alarm goes off, and the hubby gets up to take a shower.

7:22 AM—The baby wakes up.

I looked in the mirror a few minutes ago. The bags under my eyes resemble the tops of those old-fashioned theatre curtains. I need to go hop in the shower so I am not greasy when we leave for story-time at the library. I’d much rather jump back into the loving arms of my bed and revert to a comatose state. Blah.

Car Wars

While I was sitting at a stop sign this morning, I saw a little yellow car drive by. The front windshield was completely frosted over, and as the car passed, I noticed that the driver was talking on his cell phone. I have no idea how he could see out of the back window either, as it was covered in a layer of mud. Somehow, the driver managed to keep his vehicle on the correct side of the street. The situation seemed to beg the question: does he use The Force to drive all the time, or only on the mornings when he’s running late?

It’s Super Tuesday

So naturally, I was awakened at 4:30 AM by my daughter singing the Superman theme. Interestingly enough, I had been dreaming that I was leaping tall buildings on base in single bounds. It makes me wonder how long she was singing before I woke up…