What's in your fridge?

A banger. And some mash. I guess. I am not brave enough to open the container. This is what happens when you open up your fridge for use by others. The cottage cheese is mine. The beer (belgian) is not.

Giggles

I'm waiting to get a new computer at work. My current one is apparently experiencing disk failure. I got to choose the name, only because I used to run that department. Giggles was available so I chose that one. Giggles was the name of my very first unix (SGI) back in the day, back in Dinosaur. I thought it would be a good omen. I loved that computer and I loved that I had one named giggles. I would have opted for the single malt scotch, I know because I named those computers, but one wasn't available.

So, here I am, fresh out of python class, holding a houdini book and waiting for my new linux. How did I get here?

Strange as it ever was, stange as it ever was.

Baby Bird

I just held a baby bird in my hand. I felt his tiny, soft feathers against my cheek. He didn't seem too terrified, but that mybe because he's tired. First of all, there is the distinct possibility that it is a she. i don't know why I assume. I'm not that great at sexing birds. Secondly, I don't know how long he has been in the house. I got home around 8 or so. I found him at 9:45. And birds don't do much after dark. So has he been here all day??? I only found him because Paxton was riveted to the mirror on the dresser, which he has never fancied before. Low and behold there was the bird. I was easily able to pick him up and take him outside. I considered feeding him, which I got schooled at in chicago when I bird-sat a baby Robin. Just as I was about to go in and get the cat food to feed him (yes, cat food) he flew to the empty house next door. I think he was aiming for the tree, but flew just shy of it. I heard a thud which I assume was him landing on the tin shed. I hope. Well, good news is that there is nothing next door and he can clearly fly to his next destination. I only hope he is able to feed himself since he may have not eaten all day. Poor kid. I wish I had been able to feed him first.

Minnie's Moonlit Monster

Tonight, I'm supposed to be running around Disneyland, tethered to 3 of my co-workers as we race through the park solving impossible quizzes and puzzles. But one of our intrepid team, Ross, seems to have disappeared. Not as intrepid as once thought. And since we cannot play with only 3 on the team, we will be forced to sip cocktails and talk about Disney trivia instead. Seeing as I have a difficult software class at 9am tomorrow, I'm really not heartbroken. Perhaps we'll wait until next year to race to the 5 corners of the Park and do calculus with the addresses on the shops in New Orleans Square.

Or, one of the co-workers will frighten someone into being a forth and I'll be up til 2am anyway. Geesh. I should have stayed hime sick today.

Lumpy Dunc again

Since last Monday, Duncan has been fine but his tumor seems to have grown quite a bit. you could see the changes by hte hour. Finally today, it burst. We had a vet appointment anyway. Turns out it had gotten infected, as tumors do. Necrosis. Who knew? The vet cleaned it up n- it was NASTY. I mean beyond your imagination nasty. But now he's pretty much resting and oozing. We're outside. I'm on the new hammock we purchased this weekend as part of the make Duncan feel better parade. He does love the hammock. But now he's on the love seat. A hummingbird keeps buzzing my head, and a young finch is learning to sing I suppose as he keeps doing it. His dad stays close by, observing and giving pointers. I've come to realize this spring that many baby birds sound the same.

We had a baby mockingbird in the jasmine. He flys now, but I still hear him and his Peter Brady style bird cry. Poor kid. He'll get through puberty soon I hope. What an awkward phase for a bird.

Run, Forest, Run

I'm just now understanding the importance of the brunch venue from Sunday. James, Marlon, Dale, Russ and I had just run the first ever Carpe Diem 10k in Santa Monica, ending at the pier. It was so much fun. And of course later we were hungry. So we ate at the restaurant on the pier which happened to be Bubba Gump's Shrimp Co, named after the reference in the movie Forest Gump. Everything in the restaurant refered back to the movie or to running. I suppose I was in such a daze after running 6.2 miles, I didn't really notice at the time.

It was a really fun race, mostly along the shore looking out over the foggy ocean. I also enjoyed running past lots of nice boutiques with handmade jewelry in the window. Maybe that's why my time was a little slow. The last 2 miles were slightly downhill so I enjoyed picking up the pace quite a bit. I came in at a cool 1:10, which is great for me. I have never been fast (on my feet) - ever. And that race was no exception. BUT I had so much fun, I am sure I will do it again soon. There is the Mud Run coming up in June......

Mr Show

Our show Friday night was...interesting. A study in why I am not comfortable in charging people money to watch improv. The night was a train wreck. Most scenes went on too long, there was a lot of negation. It was generally a nightmare. but we did OK considering we only had 3 people. I ended up being patient zero with the uncommon cold, who had 2 spines and got sold to the circus as Mdme. Chernobyl. It was fun and we got some good laughs. Poor Mark. I dragged him to go see it and he was very, very nice about it. But I mean come on - the show was crap. He paid to see crap. Oh well - it's all a crap shoot. Ha! Pun.

Why are Creative Executives in existance?

They are not creative. They are executives. Usually minus a tie, but they own several. Even the women. It's a left-over from an ill-timed Annie Hall wardrobe phase. They thought they would look more powerful, but realized they just look frumpy. There are currently 3 levels of mandatory notes levels here at the Studio. Those 3 levels are being whisked out the door as I speak. But that they ever existed is a mystery. Who were these strange and mysterious Creative Execs? And why were they there? Some day, we'll all look back on this and laugh. Like the Edsel.

MiniSpa

If you're a boy, you don't know this. Many womens' restrooms have neat, fluffy things. Things suchs as hand or body lotion. Perfume samples. Air freshener. Most of these items are of a pastel hue. I hear that mens' restrooms are loud and smelly. Like an alley. It must suck to be a guy.

Hunt the Grunt

Somewhere in our den, there lies an undetected poo.

Duncan braved his third and probably final radiation treatment. He's doing great! Dr Cretin said he looks good and his weight is OK. We thought he was constipated, but Dr Chretin says he's empty. Either he's not eating or, "you'll find it eventually." Guess what we're doing tonight????

Meowstrong, Duncan!

102

Today is Sidney's birthday. He was born in 1904.

Sidney lives across the street in a house he bought in 1950. His daughter, Iona, lives there too. She's a retired nurse who takes care of Sidney. We see her from time to time, having a cigarette on the porch, or through the kitchen window. When we woke up Monday morning, the paramedic truck was outside. A police car was down the street. No one was moving very quickly. We've seen the trucks there before. A couple of times, Sidney's heart had stopped, but the paramedics revived him and he went on to enjoy his 100th birthday celebration and the year I grew extra tasty tomatoes.

This time was different. A police officer stepped out to the porch to make a phone call. She scribbled notes on her clipboard. She looked down at the ground. A slight drizzle started to fall. The west horizon was dark and cloudy, a sign of a dreary day ahead. The paramedics drove off slowly, quietly. The police eventually left. Iona stood on the porch and light a cigarette, staring at the ground.

I walked over in the drizzle and gave her a hug. "He didn't wake up," she said. "I didn't think it would be this hard."

It's never easy. Never.

Good night, Sidney. And happy birthday.

Fat any other day...

Today, being Mardi Gras, I think back to all those years I gave up something for lent. Usually cheese. I thought it was a wonderful testiment to my incredible will power. But as time creeps by, I notice that I am both less willing to give up something for lent and less likely to have incredible anything. Although I apparently came up with a brilliant idea. I was asking Chris the Director of the Dog movie hoe hw planned on decorating the new office. He was explaining his plans for little areas that look like shacks (like in the movie) with tiny doors that people have to crawl through. "Like doggie doors," I said. Apparently, he hadn't made that connection before. His eyes grew wide as he gasped. "A doggie door!!!" He told me I could have free drinks forever in the pod. I reminded him that he doesn't charge for drinks. I'm still hoping to get a decent job offer out of it......

Farewell, Fussy

Last week, I learned of the sad passing of one of our dear feline friends, Fuschia. Even though he had been sick for some time, it was still not easy to take. He was in my mind a fixture - in his house, in his relationship with his humans. And he left a void, which most assuredly will be filled with memories. I try to remember that life goes on, the world keeps turning. But beginnings always mean endings somewhere along the way. And endings are rarely easy. Peace out, dear Fuss-Fuss.

It made it all the harder to drop off Duncan for his first radiation treatment on Thursday. ut our little boy did great! He now has a big X on his tumor. I like that it looks like a target. The oncologist said that he was a dream under anesthesia, meaning his vitals were good and strong. Only 2 more treatments to go then a possible debulking surgery. It is a really big tumor. I hope they can take some of it out safely. Even though I know it will grow back. But I'd just like to see it be smaller. And Duncan is getting very light. I'm trying to get him to eat more, which he will do. But not on his own. Odd that. He used to eat everything in sight. And it's not his appetite. I think he just gets tired of eating. I have those days sometimes......

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.