Here We Are Again

I took Duncan to the vet yesterday. He's generally fine except for the enormous tumor on his neck. But we're once again faced with the dilemma of making choices. I'm not really sure what to do. We can just let the cancer run it's course, or perhaps do a little radiation and a de-bulking surgery in hopes of reducing the tumor. At this point, it will become very large and ruin his quality of life. That's the end we're looking at. And it's not pretty. He'd probably take surgery well, he did last time, but who's to say? What should we do?

Dixar

My Dad called at 11pm his time tonight to ask me how the Pixar Disney merger will effect me. We don't really know yet. But I know this conversation will change:

INT. Chili's Restaurant, any suburb, USA. Bad lighting surrounds the sights and sounds of 1998. Two women chat under fluorescent lights.

Heather: So, how's your job at Pixar?

Me: Disney.

Heather: What?

Me: I work at Disney. not Pixar. Different companies. Pixar is in the Bay area. Disney is in Burbank.

Heather: Oh. Ok. But you worked on (last Pixar film), right?

Me: No, that's Pixar. I worked on (last Disney film.)

Heather: I never heard of it.

JUMP CUT: INT. Chili's, any suburb, USA, 1999 and each sequential year. Same conversation, same fluorescent lighting every year.

CUT TO: EXT. Waterfalls, rainbow, beautiful landscape. Same two women talking in 2006.

Heather: So how's your job at Pixar?

Me: Great, thanks.

Highlights!

Tweeked

So I tweeked my back last night. Normally it's something you do and you go "ow" and you recover and then you don’t think about it anymore. But this is different. This is one of those injuries you have for the rest of your life. In my later years, I'll think back to that time in the “oughts” when I tweeked my back – that started it all. That’s what this is! And it was so silly I was just lowering Duncan to his food bowl in the middle of the night. As you do. And it’s so strange. That’s going to be it – one big back injury And that’s the beginning of the old, decrepit, body breaking down. Or it will be like that scar I have on my shoulder from Beasley, my cat who scratched me as I picked him off the street after being hit by a car. It will be the one I remember. That will make me remember the time I was taking Duncan to his food. So what will it be, a memory or a handicap?

Little Duncan had a great day. He's had his fluids and his medicine. He's been running around today like crazy, rubbing his face on the driveway and chewing catnip. I'm so glad I was able to give him a garden with catnip. He loves it. He hit the litter box with a vengence then fell over on the rug - exhausted. It was a good day for Duncan.

No More Chemo

We took Duncan in today for his 3rd chemo treatment. But the vet called just after 10:30. He said Duncan is very spry, BUT...

I knew that wasn't a good but.

The tumor is definitely bigger. 30% bigger. In just 3 weeks. That's 10% a week. The oncologist did not want to continue with chemo since it would be a waste of time. I decided to go straight for the Peroxicam and see what happens with that. The meloxicam seemed to reduce at least the swelling of the tumor, but we had the constipation to deal with. But looks like this is the only course we have left, besides herbs and maybe some voodoo.

And little Duncan is just as happy as ever. Meowstrong little Duncan!!!

Bye Bye Hey-Zeus

It's a sad day at the McGarry household. Our Jesus at the Last Supper clock finally went south. I think the guys that put in the new windows bumped it or dropped it or something. It just hasn't been the same. As in it stopped working altogether. So we're going to take it down and give it a proper send off before we trash it. I'll miss the way it would play Handel at each hour. No clock will ever be able to take it's place.

My Fair Lady

I am in hell. Not the sort of hell I ever imagined. The sort in which you are a captive audience to the antics of a young, pretty, ambitious person who only makes eye contact with those who might be of service to you. Either physically or career-ly. Additionally, she is incredibly stupid. I know, I know, that will get you EVERYWHERE in LA. Here's a snipit of what I just heard:

“Oh my god, I was like, signing, like, remember? Like, singing? Like running down the hall, singing, like, running??? And I was like singing that like song from that movie where they sing...what is it? Oh yeah, like My Fair Lady. (singing) I feel pretty...oh so pretty! Yeah, like that, and everyone was like laughing 'cause I was running and like singing.”
This is what is wrong with humanity.

Not so much that every single guy came out to the hallway to watch the pretty-stupid girl talk, but that I had to listen to it happen right outside my cube and there is not one damn thing I can do about it. And I have to pee. But I can't get to the bathroom without getting roped into this conversation, as it were. No, that's not the bad part. The BAD part is the fact that this girl spews the word "like" like a frat boy vomits at Mardi Gras. Notice the correct use of the word.

And so here is my homage to pretty-stupid girl:
"I was like listening to you like sort of like talking and I decided that you like sort of in a way like suck."

The End.