Worried About Bailey

Bailey seemed somewhat lethargic this morning, but I assumed that for some reason she was more tired than usual due to the heat, or perhaps just scared of the intermittent BOOMS that had been sounding in the neighborhood all day, or that she had just decided to be lazy and sleep. This evening, when we left for a holiday celebration at a friend's house (she had seen my blog and suggested that Tom and I not have an "independent day," but instead that we celebrate with her family and other friends... thanks Lynn, it was great!), Bailey didn't seem any better (or worse).

But when we came home, she just didn't look right. She has absolutely NO "spunk," which is completely unusual for her. Her eyes didn't seem to focus well and she just wasn't as alert as normal. She doesn't want to move more than necessary and she just seems to want to sleep.

And what REALLY concerns me is that Boo is largely ignoring her. That's what really has me concerned! Boo and Bailey are normally so connected and constantly together, so Boo's apathy toward Bailey when Bailey seems to be feeling like hell, is just not right.

If there's no change in Bailey's demeanor or activity level by morning, I'll take her to the vet. Cross your fingers, please. I love this kitten!

My Own Personal Fireworks

This has always been my least favorite holiday. As much as I love the bar-b-ques, the parades, and others' fireworks displays (especially the big city-sponsored shows), I really have no affinity for fireworks up close and personal. They scare me. They're dangerous. They're stupid. I'm always happy when the 5th arrives without a visit to the emergency room. I just plain don't get the thrill of intentionally lighting a fuse to watch something shoot or sizzle or explode at a temperature of a gazillion degrees right in front of one's face.

And now, in the most cruel irony of Mother Nature, I feel like I deal with my own personal fireworks displays many times a day. I can feel the fuse being lit somewhere deep in my core and at that point I know it's coming. Within nano-seconds I am suddenly awash with emanating heat and sweat, and my only thought is an intense desire to strip completely naked and either jump into the refrigerator or turn the garden hose on myself. During my own personal fireworks display (and it is a display -- I turn beet red, radiate heat, and sweat profusely), I am a prisoner of my physical self and can do nothing but wait it out. If I'm alone or with family, I take action -- I grab the nearest flat, light object and fan myself profusely, I strip as much as possible without mortifying teens, I run outside to bask in cooler temperatures, or I frantically adjust the fan speed on the ceiling fan. But if I'm in a public place when my personal fireworks explode, I can only wait them out, hoping no one walks close enough to me to be ignited by the radiant heat -- giving "radiant" a whole new meaning, dammit!

And while I'm whining about the holiday, I'll mention that "independence day" has a whole new meaning this year, too. The kids are all busy with their own celebrations -- Elisabeth with her new boyfriend, Peter and Kat at friends' summer cabins, and Aleks with local friends -- so Tom and I will be independent tonight, celebrating the holiday on our own. Poor guy... he loves everything about the holiday that I don't care for.

I think I'll suggest to him that we call our dear friends Debbie and Neal. He loves dangerous, exploding fireworks too and she... well, I have a feeling she and I could share our own personal fireworks experiences.

Sigh.

Make Friends! Influence Others! Make Money!

OK, maybe I'd have to settle for one or two out of three... but in my unemployed panic-driven delirium, here's what I came up with:

You know how there are a gazillion "mommy blogs" written by new moms and somewhat-new moms and still-this-decade-new moms? I love those blogs and I'm sure they have readership in the zabillions (are you starting to wonder if I can count at all?), but when's the last time you read a blog of a menopausal 50-year-old mom who's dealing with her used-to-be-young-and-innocent kids growing up into adulthood?

When's the last time you read about almost-18-year-old boy/girl twins asking if they can have an all-night "tent city" party in their backyard on the 4th of July, with the whole idea of tents in the backyard conjuring up a different picture (and a different concern) than it did when the same kids asked the same question 10 years earlier?

When's the last time you read a blog about a 20-year-old son only kinda-sorta living at home because he also kinda-sorta lives with his girlfriend at her house, with her parents, who are your friends?

When's the last time you read a blog about a 23-year-old daughter inviting her 51-year-old dad to Beer Fest -- and that foaming festival being where said dad meets daughter's new boyfriend and his dad, and the two dads realizing that they both have a passion for motorcycling and boating and becoming buddies over a variety of endless four-ounce tastes of local microbrews?

Seriously, I think there just might be a void of first-hand, honest blogs that deal with THIS phase of parenting. They don't just hit 18 and take off -- if you're lucky. But they change, and we change, and relationships change, and the world is changing.

They no longer ask permission; they ask your opinion. They no longer tell you what they want to be when they grow up (aw, how sweet!); they tell you what they did last night (oh my god!). They no longer call you for a ride home from the birthday party; they call friends to establish a dd for tonight's party. They've grown up. But they haven't. And now you wonder who's doing more changing and growing -- them as your kids or you as their parents.

So what do you think? Would anyone read it? Would anyone even care? And is it any different than what this blog already is anyway?

I Can't Resist a Dare

Rebecca, who posted a photo of herself pregnant with her twins, dared me to post a photo of me when I was pregnant with Aleks and Kat (then Alexander and Katherine). It was enough incentive for me to dust off the scanner. So here they are, Rebecca. (I'm well into my eighth month in these photos with Elisabeth and Peter -- one taken on Halloween... I should have painted my belly orange -- and I'm also including our holiday photo of 1989 with all 4 kidlets.)

We never got such good service in restaurants as when I was highly pregnant with twins. I swear, people thought I'd pop at any moment and they were always relieved when we'd leave, unpopped.

Aleks and Kat were induced after 39 1/2 weeks' gestation, and had I known then what I know now about pregnancy and childbirth, I don't think they would have been induced and I don't think I would have had a C-section. (That's a topic for another post...) Unlike many twins, these two were in no rush to make an appearance, and by the time they did arrive, they weighed over 7 pounds each!

This Isn't Normally a Political Blog...

...but I just have to say that I am sickened by Bush's actions today. I'm embarrassed, I'm disgusted, I'm ashamed, I'm appalled and I'm mortified.

A democracy? Any country where the president has this sort of power and can blatantly ignore the laws of the courts and country he leads can hardly be called a democracy. It's looking more like a dictatorship with every asinine "I'm the decider" move Bush makes.

The gall! Where are the checks and balances that are supposed to prevent this sort of above-the-law take-over in our country? What happened to the country my parents immigrated to in the 50's? What happened to liberty and justice for all? Do privilege and money now dictate and determine who must follow the law and who is pardoned and exempted from our courts and our laws?

Really, if you're not outraged, you are not paying attention.

I think we need another "I'm sorry" website that we can all contribute to so the world doesn't think that the citizens of this great country actually support the buffoon...

Losin' Weight and Junk

2.8 pounds gone. Enough to stay inspired, not enough to be cocky.

Off to shovel more chips. Gotta clear the driveway for the garage sale we'll have on Friday and Saturday. Anyone interested in almost brand new rock-climbing shoes (various sizes), a "sun, moon, stars" girl's bedroom ensemble, various lost-their-cool-factor household gizmos and appliances, clothes rejected by our own "What Not to Wear" expert, a slide that goes to a swing-set... and a whole lot of other fascinating items?!

Look! A New Look!

Whatd'ya think? Too much? (Too green?)

I've been meaning to play around with my blog graphics for a long time, but this evening I finally mustered the guts to attempt the changes.

Many thanks to my patient and loving husband for putting up with my whining, pouting, and exasperated growls as I wrestled with Photoshop and Blogger.

What a Zoo!

Elisabeth called this morning, just as Tom and I were about to get busy doing yard work. "Hey, wanna go to the Seattle Beer Fest with me?"

So much for yard work!

Aleks had gone to Seattle's Woodland Park Zoo with friends earlier in the morning and Peter has been in Whistler, Canada with Danelle's family all week, so if Tom and I went to Beer Fest with Elisabeth (none of the other kids are 21), Kat would be left alone on a beautiful sunny Seattle day. Not OK!

So Tom, Kat and I drove to Elisabeth's house in Seattle and then separated -- Tom and Elisabeth to Seattle Beer Fest and Kat and I to the zoo, where we hardly saw Aleks and friends at all.

But oh, did we see animals (and they saw us)!