26 May, 2008

The One Where Sexist Bullshit Makes My Head Explode. Again.

This story makes my blood fucking boil. Twelve-year-old Jaime Nared has all of a sudden been banned from playing on the mixed-gender team she's been on since she was in the second grade. Why? Because she's a phenomenally talented GIRL.

Here's the money quote:

Neal Franzer, The Hoop's director of operations, said Thursday that parents were "adamant" that their complaints have nothing to do with Jaime's skills.

"They said the problem was the boys were playing differently against her because she was a girl," he said. "They'd been taught to not push a girl, so they weren't fouling her hard, and the focus had shifted from playing basketball to noticing a girl was on the floor with them."

Riiiiight. Because, you know, it's just so much easier to discriminate against a talented girl (or woman) than it is to teach boys that EVERYONE should be allowed the chance to compete and excel at the highest level they're capable of and that capability has nothing to do with being female or male. (For the record, the boys on her team seem to have no problem whatsoever with the fact that she's exceptionally talented--and already 6'1"--or that she's a girl. In this video, one of her teammates says that having her on the team makes them try harder and play better.

It saddens and sickens me that the lessons of teamwork and competing to their fullest potential have been interrupted (yet again) by the inappropriate interference from some of the so-called grown-ups who are teaching them, instead, that it's perfectly all right to discriminate against someone ought not to be able to compete with them because of their gender/race/sexual orientation/religion/economic class.

Full disclosure: That this story comes out of Beaverton, OR is 1) not a surprise to me at all and 2) a bit of a trigger because I dealt with this sexist bullshit when I went to high school (SHS, not BHS, if you're familiar with the area). I had hoped that the mentality there might have evolved a little bit in 25 years, but I guess not.

(Hat tip to Melissa at Shakesville and so on down the line...)

Labels: gah, in the news

~~ victoria on 3:17 PM ~~ 0 comments

20 May, 2008

The One Where I Respond To Search Terms

are gerbera daisies poisonous to cats

Gerbera daisies are NOT toxic for cats, but if your furkid shows a curiosity for sampling flowers, it's best to keep ALL flowers and plants out of his reach, otherwise you end up with a sad, scary--and expensive--situation like this.

Plant a pot or two of cat grass or catnip instead.

flickr staff evil

Uh, no. I've met many Flickr staff and I can tell you they most certainly are NOT evil. You may not always agree with changes they make to the site, or you think they seem too slow responding to bug reports (seriously, do you want them to fix the bugs, or sit down and have a cup of tea with you while they explain the bug? Really, people!), but that does not make them evil.

Remember, Flickr is JUST A WEB SITE. It, hopefully, adds value TO your life, but it is NOT life itself!

victoria klum

Oh hai! Have we met? Don't be shy, use the email linkies and say hello (unless you're a spammer: I really have little interest in male sexual response or knock-off designer handbags at this time, kthxbye).

pilling a hypervigilant cat

You have my sympathy. Try Pill Pockets, but when you give kitteh one with the pill, you should follow it immediately with a treat sans pill so that kitteh doesn't have time to try to dissect the pill pocket.

grooming a male ass

YES!!! I may make it back to the #1 result for the Male Ass Grooming search! I still have no idea how I ever achieved that distinction, but I revel in the glory!

EDIT: I'm back on top!!! W00T!1!!

Labels: Site Stat Gazing

~~ victoria on 10:10 PM ~~ 0 comments

18 May, 2008

Weekend Jeff Tweedy: Gun

Jeff Tweedy reaches back to his days with Uncle Tupelo for this awesome-packed acoustic version of Gun.

UT fans should check out Tweedy's hilarious story of seeing former UT bandmate/collaborator Jay Ferrar in Mexico.

Labels: Weekend Music

~~ victoria on 8:28 PM ~~ 0 comments

Simon Sunday: Getting Back to Normal

Simon has been home for a week, after his Bogus Journey to the emergency veterinary hospital last weekend. We finished the Clavamox and Baytril prescriptions for his urinary tract infection last night, which was good because he had sort of figured out the pill pockets.

Oh yes, the pill pockets. Last Sunday I didn't have much trouble pilling Simon: the Clavamox are small and the Baytril followed immediately after when Simon was too confused to put up a fight. Monday was a completely different story. I got the Clavamox down him easily but he wanted nothing at all to do with the Baytril. I spent close to thirty minutes trying to get that stupid Baytril down him! To anyone observing, it must surely have looked like Wile E. Coyote v. the Roadrunner: No matter what clever scheme I tried (Shoving it in. Shoving it in again. Covering it in goat cheese. Covering it in Petromalt. Shoving it in again. Covering it in more Petromalt and smearing the whole thing on his face.), he outwitted me. By the time I got the last remnants of that damn pill into his mouth, it felt like I had played my guitar all night, but instead of steel strings, it had been strung with barbed wire. So, on the recommendation of the vet's office, I stopped at Petco after work on Tuesday and bought chicken flavored pill pockets.

The pill pockets worked really well, but still required preparation to keep up with Simon. I started off giving him one sans pill, then stuffed a Clavamox in one and gave it to him, which he ate quickly. The Baytril one, he tried to chew at, so I quickly grabbed one of his crunchy cat treats and offered it to him so he'd just swallow the Baytril and eat the new treat. That system has been working out fairly well, though the last couple of days Simon started trying to dissect the pocket and refusing the extra treat until he had chewed at the pill pocket some more. But, hey, no problem because we're done with meds, right?

Yeah, not so much.

For reasons known only to him, Simon thought it would be a really neat idea to use my head as a springboard to try to leap on top of the heater. It didn't work out too well for him and he ended up tearing one of his toenails and if you've ever accidentally trimmed too far on your cat's (or dog's) nails, those suckers bleed like a son of a gun! Naturally, I sprung straight into Mom Mode and put his foot under the faucet to try to clean the wound and stop the bleeding. He was having none of it and tried to run away several times. He yelped and growled and bit on me (clearly not wanting to hurt me, just trying to get me to stop what I was doing) when I put the wash cloth over his foot. He yelped and bit some more when I tried to hold cotton balls on the wound to staunch the bleeding. I finally got it stopped and just let him lay on my bed by himself while I cleaned up the kitchen and got ready for bed. He groomed the foot for a while but he hasn't been favoring the foot, so it seems all is as well as can be.

The discharge instructions from the emergency vet said I had to get Simon in for a follow-up urine test within 48 hours after discontinuing his meds, so I made an appointment for this afternoon. I felt horrible when it was time to put him in the carrier and he actually piddled a little bit (not surprising since, for one, he did NOT want to go back to the vet and for two, I had made him "hold it" all day so the vet would be able to grab a sample). He yowled all the way to our regular vet's office (thankfully, the emergency vet said we could go to his regular vet for the follow up, which is a much shorter car trip). The vet who saw him said that the notes that had been faxed over from the hospital said that he wasn't to be seen for five days after discontinuing the meds. We talked about what to do and I made it very clear that I did not want to put Simon through another trip to the vet. She ordered a regular test (not the culture), so, unless they see something off in that, we should be done with vet trips for a while.

The vet and I both nearly forgot about looking at Simon's foot, so she took him back to the exam room. She showed me how the nail had torn away from the toe a bit and that he'd probably eventually pull the nail off himself. Alternatively she could sedate him and take it herself, but neither of us wanted to put him through that today. So, he's back on Clavamox for the next five days in an effort to head off any infection.

I'd better go check the supply of pill pockets.

Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday

~~ victoria on 7:54 PM ~~ 0 comments

11 May, 2008

Simon Sunday: Grace

I love to have fresh flowers in the house and every Sunday, when I make my weekly grocery shopping trip to Trader Joe's, I pick up one of their mixed bouquets. Now, because Simon likes to sample, well, everything, I make sure that the flowers are kept in a place he cannot access and I keep an eye out for wilting flowers so I can slip off the petals before they fall off. Occasionally, a lily petal will fall onto the floor, but Simon has never bothered with them.

Until Thursday.

I came home from work and noticed some orange lily petals on the floor and picked them up. I didn't think too much about it. I fed Simon and Billie their supper while I got ready to go to the SFlickr meet up. When I got home and was getting ready to crawl into bed around 10:30 p.m., I noticed that Simon had horked up part of his supper. As I picked it up and threw it in the garbage, I noticed the standard hair and a couple of bits of orange somethingorother in it. As I was cleaning off the bed spread and getting it ready to put in the laundry, it dawned on me: Those orange bits must be lily petals.

After consulting the first aid manual, I phoned Bay Area Veterinary Specialists, the emergency clinic in San Leandro, and spoke to them briefly. Part of me really wanted to think that, like the previous incidents with chocolate, Simon would just get away with nothing more than a dickey tummy. After all, he was still acting like his whacko self and was still eating. But something inside me compelled me to get dressed and take him in. So, at 11:00 p.m. we walked through the door to the emergency room at BAVS. A vet tech took him in the back while I sorted out the details at the reception desk. After a while, the veterinarian on duty spoke to me and told me that they needed to give Simon activated charcoal (which is horrible-tasting and must be force-fed) to soak up the toxins and also put him on IV fluids to flush his system. Hopefully, this all would head off any kidney damage (or failure) that can be caused by ingesting lillies. She let me go into the back to say good-night to Simon. My poor baby was absolutely terrified and as soon as I leaned over him on the table, he crawled into my neck, wanting his Mom to protect him. The vet tech had his blanket spread out on the table and said Simon was being a very good kitty and seemed to be somewhat comfortable with him, given the circumstances. At this point, I was crying, my tears soaking Simon's fuzzy little head. "I'm so sorry, baby," I kept saying.

The doctor gently told me that I needed to go to the front desk to sort out the estimate so that they can begin treating Simon, so I kissed him good night. The vet tech, instead of holding Simon on the table, pulled him gently into his lap and soothed him, which made me feel a tiny bit better about leaving him.

The estimate has a low end and a high end and I had to pay the low end as a deposit before they would begin treating him. Both estimates were in the 4-digit range. I said a quick prayer of thanks that 1) the bank had upped my credit limit a couple of weeks ago and 2) that, despite the huge hole it would blow in my savings account, I could still cover the high end of the estimate. Driving home, I nearly had to pull off of the freeway two or three times because I felt so nauseated. When I got home I pulled the rest of the bedding off of the mattress and dragged my down comforter over. I lay awake until the alarm went off at 5:40 a.m. I phoned the clinic around 7:00 and they said he was doing well and that I could call back around 10:30. I asked if I could visit him and they told me to come by any time. As you can imagine, I was an utter wreck at work. I tried hard to concentrate on TASKS, anything to get my mind off of my poor, terrified kitten who was in this situation because of my stupid need to have stupid fresh flowers all the stupid time. I got some critical tasks done and managed to get my trip to Los Angeles rescheduled from Monday to Thursday and then I called the clinic before leaving for the ferry.

I spoke to one of the vet techs (Rita, I think...I wish I had gotten *all* of their names, they all are so wonderful). They were going to send Simon's blood work out for another look-see because the doctor had seen something "a little off" in it. Also, they discovered a rather significant bacterial infection in his bladder, so they put him on antibiotics for that. That last bit of news knocked me for six: Simon had shown no indication, whatsoever, that he had any kind of urinary tract infection. Rita told me to visit Simon any time. So I headed for the 12:15 boat back to Alameda. I dug out Simon's favourite catnip bear, which he had torn a hole in and it was hemorrhaging catnip, and did a hasty repair job so I could bring it with me.

I spent about an hour and a half with Simon Friday afternoon. At one point, he had crawled behind me on the bench and then suddenly reached over and yanked on his catheter, spraying a bit of blood on the wall and dripping some on me as I carried him into the treatment area to tell them what happened. When the techs tried to look at the catheter, Simon got really frightened and peed on me. I cleaned myself off while they replaced the catheter and wrapped the works in the orange smiley face bandage you see in the photo. They brought him back into the room with me for a little while longer and I settled him into his favourite polar fleece jacket where he finally slept comfortably (that's the photo at the top of the post). It was time for him to go back on his fluids, so I left. I came back later in the evening to say good-night and to bring a bag of his food to see if he would eat (he wasn't eating for the vet, which wasn't surprising considering how frightened he was). I didn't have any luck getting him to eat, but he did at least sniff at the kibble I brought, which was encouraging. The tech said he was doing really well and answered my question about the blood work (the vet had noted a low platelet count and that's why it was sent out for another look). Simon didn't really look or act like a sick cat. Scared, but not sick. However, with kidney problems, it can take a while for the symptoms to manifest, so they wanted to keep him hospitalized. Again, I kissed him good-night and headed home to watch Battlestar Galactica, a diversion I so desperately needed along with having my friend Stephanie here.

Saturday, I went straight from my chiropractor appointment to the clinic. When I phoned earlier, they said his blood work came back "unremarkable", which I took as good news, and that he was keeping hidden in his bed (the tech Friday had mentioned that he had been too frightened to come out of his bed to use the litter pan and was peeing in the bed). When they gave him to me, I noticed that his stomach and hindquarters were, uh, damp. I just wanted to cry: my poor little boo was so scared he was peeing himself! This is the same cat who is the litter box champion! He had never, ever, in his life eliminated anywhere BUT the litter box. I was just sick that he was so distressed that he wouldn't leave his bed to pee. I scooped him up in the towels they brought in and tried to clean him off a little. He took over and I just let him sit on the floor and groom for a bit. Then I pulled out the baggie with some of his kibble in it to see if I could get him to eat. He actually ate several bites before some loud children in the neighbouring exam room put him off. I spent a couple of hours with him and he got progressively more relaxed, and even started being the Cheeky Monkey, jumping up on the sink counter, even after I told him he was not allowed up there!

When the vet came in to speak to me, I leaned pretty heavily on her to let him come home. However, she said that, while his blood work was really looking good and he seemed to be doing very well, they really needed to keep him one more night and do one or two more blood tests to make sure his kidney values were stable and to keep flushing his system with fluids. I snuggled with him for a few more minutes before handing him to the tech and promising to come by to say good night.

I returned about 8:00 p.m. but had to wait a while before the visiting room was available, so I didn't see Simon until 8:30. This time the lines were attached to Simon's catheter which was kind of a shock for me to see and it drove Simon nuts to be dragging them around whenever he tried to walk anywhere. But we dealt with it and I just let him do his thing. He groomed for a while, then I put his dish of kibble down and he went at it, which made me so unbelievably happy!

He groomed for a few minutes before deciding that he really wanted me to sit on the floor with the polar fleece jacket so he could climb inside and rest. While we were down there, the vet on duty, Dr. Jones, I think, came in. While I was impressed with everyone I met at the clinic, this vet totally won me over. He not only answered all of my questions (and was very happy to see that I got Simon to eat), but, rather than towering over us while we talked, he crouched, then sat, on that cold, tile floor next to us. When he got up to leave, he said, "Stay as long as you like. He's obviously way happier where he is right now!" About an hour later, the vet tech came in and said it was time for Simon's antibiotic treatment and he should go back on his fluids. I kissed his head and told him we just needed to tough it out for a few more hours and then he'd come home.

On the way to the car, the migraine that had begun percolating hit me with full force. By the time I got home I was feeling very ill and, in desperation, took one of the Vicodin that I got when my back went out last October. I had also gotten a call from my friend who was in the area and figured I could use a hug. So he came over and sat with me and we talked about photography and cats and work while I waited (and waited) for the Vicodin to at least take the edge off of my raging headache. I fueled my friend up with tea for his drive back to the South Bay and, by the time we said good-night, my head was finally clearing up. The Vicodin also helped me to sleep for the first time in a couple of days. In fact, I was still really groggy this morning when I forced myself to roll out of bed so I could call the clinic at 8:40 a.m. to see when I could come get Simon.

"He's ready to go!" said Simone, at the clinic. I tried very hard to not SQUEE with delight, in her ear.

I hurriedly showered and dressed and stopped to get an Americano at the Starbucks inside Safeway and flew down I-880. I now know the way to BAVS like I know how to get to my own apartment! I settled the final bill and waited while they tried to find his carrier and blanket. It turns out the blanket ended up in their laundry, so they sent him home with a sheepskin and promised to call when they found his blanket (which they did, this afternoon).

As soon as Simon came home, I got him to eat some more food and then he wandered over to Billie's dish and made a half-hearted attempt to steal some of her food. But his appetite isn't what it was before his ordeal. Since he does eat (and hasn't horked any of it back up, so far), I'm not too concerned that he no longer inhales food. If his appetite drops off significantly, then I'll worry.

We spent a long Sunday afternoon with Simon napping on my lap while I watched a movie and snoozed. At one point Simon and I got a card and some toy mice from another one of our amazingly wonderful friends. I got him to eat some more supper and discovered he has a new hiding place--inside the box springs of my bed! He's slowly settling back into his home and feeling secure again. I have to give him antibiotics twice a day for a while and he's got some shaved spots on his legs where the catheter was and where they took blood and I'm trying to get him to not worry them so much that I have to bandage them up again. I pray that the only lingering effect of this ordeal is the one on my bank account and that Simon gets back to his regular crazy mouse self fairly soon. I'm still bewildered about the UTI and how I had no clue about it (I always know when Billie gets one because she is a major Drama Queen about it). And as awful as it was that he ate highly toxic flowers, I wonder if, somehow, that action might have saved his life?

It's a lot to think about: Instead I think I'll go snuggle up with Simon and just be so, so grateful that he and Billie are safe at home with me, this Mother's Day.

Labels: Billie, cats, furkids, grace, gratitude, sick, Simon, Simon Sunday

~~ victoria on 11:04 PM ~~ 1 comments

04 May, 2008

Simon Sunday: Seven!

Simon turns seven years old tomorrow and as usual, he's been spoiled silly, though all of the presents he's gotten are ones that Billie can (and does) enjoy as well. He got a new cardboard scratch box (with catnip!) and an "entertainment center" (though most of you out there would refer to it as an aquarium).

I went back and forth on what fish I'd include in the aquarium, but I decided a while ago I'd use live plants instead of plastic ones this time (bought a couple of plants at Petco and my chiropractor gave me a bunch out of the aquarium in her office). As for the fish, I was thinking of having cichlids, but decided to go with guppies and in a week or so I'll add an algae-eating fish. I've never had guppies so I'll have to see if I can keep the population in check. So far, everyone is happy and the guppies have settled into their new environment.

Billie is content to watch the fish swim through the plants, occasionally patting at the glass. Simon, however, wants to take a more "paws-on" approach:

Simon is actually more interested in sampling the fish FOOD, rather than the fish themselves. As glad as I am that he doesn't want to eat his pet fish, it does add several degrees of difficulty to feeding time.

The last thing we did to celebrate Simon's birthday was to donate a bunch of cat food to the Alameda Animal Shelter. When I was in there last week to pay for Billie's license, they told me about all of the adult cats that have been dropped off in the night drop box lately. The officer nearly had me sobbing before I left and there was no way I could go back to see the cats because I already wish I could adopt every last homeless animal there is. What I could do, however, is buy an extra bag and some cans of food. So Simon and Billie and I want to ask our friends to donate a few dollars or an extra bag or can or two of food to your local shelter or rescue organization. If you're a few bob short, you can give your time and volunteer to socialize the animals and take the dogs for walks.

Finally, if you have room in your heart (and in your home), consider adopting an adult cat (or dog). There are a lot of wonderful critters out there waiting for a loving family of their own.

Labels: Billie, cats, furkids, gratitude, Simon, Simon Sunday

~~ victoria on 12:40 PM ~~ 0 comments

03 May, 2008

Weekend Supertramp: Give A Little Bit and Dreamer

Give A Little Bit easily goes on my list of all-time favourite songs. It's a love song, but not in the hearts-and-flowers or moonlight-in-your-eye kind of way, which is probably why I loved it so much to begin with. It always struck me that this song was never really meant to be sung to your One True Love, but rather to...anyone. It's about reaching out beyond your own little world and trusting that someone out there is reaching toward you. At least I always thought that was what it was about. YMMV?

Dreamer is another of those songs that stuck with me and I sang it for days after I first heard it. (A couple of the guys on the Portland Timbers got me listening to Supertramp when the brought albums and tapes with them from England and Scotland...which makes me miss Willie Donachie and wonder what he's up to these days.) While Breakfast In America is probably Supertramp's best selling album in the United States, Crime of the Century, the album this song is on, is easily their best album.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I noticed that there are NO BARRE CHORDS in Give A Little Bit, which means I have at least a miniscule hope of learning to play it!