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My Sanctuary
25 December 2010 @ 12:48 am
21 January 2009 @ 12:34 am
I wake up and roll over in the streaming sunlight. My room is filled with the smell of humidity and gasoline; I left my window open overnight to try and combat the stale, musty air of of the air conditioning.
I roll to my left where my radio is blaring too loud for me to ignore. It's early, and I have a morning class today. There's no way I can skip, I have a paper due, and this teacher brings new meaning to the word unforgiving.
I reach out to slam my snooze bar down. My fingerprints have worn a hole in the writing on the alarm; it now reads SN^^>E, but the tone in the DJs voice catches my ear. I normally don't have it on this station. Doc Holliday (Doc and Johnny Morning show) grates on my nerves. His caustic, misogynistic attitude is no way to start the day. But I snoozed to LoveLine last night, and they share a station.
( They must be joking )
I roll to my left where my radio is blaring too loud for me to ignore. It's early, and I have a morning class today. There's no way I can skip, I have a paper due, and this teacher brings new meaning to the word unforgiving.
I reach out to slam my snooze bar down. My fingerprints have worn a hole in the writing on the alarm; it now reads SN^^>E, but the tone in the DJs voice catches my ear. I normally don't have it on this station. Doc Holliday (Doc and Johnny Morning show) grates on my nerves. His caustic, misogynistic attitude is no way to start the day. But I snoozed to LoveLine last night, and they share a station.
( They must be joking )
19 January 2009 @ 07:55 pm
(Please be warned, there will be spoilers for the entire Twilight Saga throughout this piece. If you haven’t had the opportunity to finish the story yet and don’t want the ending ruined for you, please don’t click the link. )
Twilight. It’s everywhere. From books, to movies, to merchandise, to screaming fans, chances are you at least have a passing knowledge of this cultural phenomenon. As with nearly every cult hit, both the series of novels and the current and upcoming films have generated an intense level of controversy. Fans of both have divided themselves into camps, crying “Team Edward” or “Team Jacob”, but the conflict runs much deeper than the anticipated victor at the end of the saga. The Twilight Series of novels as much about the collision between traditional values and modern expectations as it is the battle between werewolves, vampires, and humans.
( Part One: Intimacy and Sexuality )
03 November 2008 @ 05:31 pm
The Old Man and his Dog
An old man and his dog were walking along a country road, enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to the man that he had died. He remembered dying, and realized, too, that the dog had been dead for many years. He wondered where the road would lead them, and continued onward.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall, white arch that gleamed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He was pleased that he had finally arrived at heaven, and the man and his dog walked toward the gate. As he got closer, he saw someone sitting at a beautifully carved desk off to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, but is this heaven?"
"Yes, it is, sir," the man answered.
"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.
"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The gatekeeper gestured to his rear, and the huge gate began to open.
"I assume my friend can come in..." the man said, gesturing toward his dog.
But the reply was, "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."
The man thought about it, then thanked the gatekeeper, turned back toward the road, and continued in the direction he had been going. After another long walk, he reached the top of another long hill, and he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate. There was no fence, and it looked as if the gate had never been closed, as grass had grown up around it. As he approached the gate, he saw a man just inside, sitting in the shade of a tree reading a book. "Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any water?"
"Yeah, sure, there's a well over there," the man said, pointing to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in and make yourself at home."
"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.
"He's welcome too, and there's a bowl by the well," he said. They walked through the gate and, sure enough, there was an old-fashioned well and a bowl next to it on the ground. The man filled the bowl for his dog, and then took a long drink himself.
When both were satisfied, he and the dog walked back toward the man, who was sitting under the tree waiting for them, and asked, "What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.
"This is heaven," was the answer.
"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "It certainly doesn't look like heaven, and there's another man down the road who said that place was heaven."
"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates?"
"Yes, it was beautiful."
"Nope. That's hell."
"Doesn't it offend you for them to use the name of heaven like that?"
"No. I can see how you might think so, but it actually saves us a lot of time. They screen out people who are willing to leave their best friends behind.
06 October 2008 @ 05:30 pm
Thursday:
After a crazy-busy day at work, (trying to prep everything that we would need for Monday, since I was taking Friday off), I picked Jill up at SeaTac at around 6:30. JillyBean had kind of a hectic flight down, so she was ready for a break. I took Jill out to this fabulous little Italian restaurant and wine bar, Toscanos. Absolutely amazing food at decent prices (I had a first date there awhile back, and fell in love with the restaurant). We all ordered something fantastic and shared a bottle of Pinot Noir while we caught up. Afterwards, we came back to my place and shared a bottle of Merlot and rested up, knowing that we were about to step into a whirlwind.
Friday:
Spent the day shopping for decorations. Found a fabulous 80's costume for the bowling event tomorrow. You won't believe the size of my skirt, lol, I can't believe we ever wore that much Tule. Ah, the 80's. Rodney came over and helped Jill, Liz and me decorate for the party tomorrow. I swear, they've hidden spiders everywhere just to make me scream. They're evil! But the place looks FABULOUS, we're all set for Halloween!Tonight we went out to the Crystal Saloon, where Johnny works. It was Jill, Me, Liz, Rod, Roger and Brett...and guess who showed up? Eric and Kristina! Screw the REAL high school reunion, ours was so much better. I haven't seen Kristina since she was just his fiance, and now they're married, awww. We hung out at the Crystal for awhile, did our share of booty-shaking on the dance floor, and spent more than a few minutes making catty comments about the couple who were attempting to bump and grind. Well, SHE could bump and grind but he...well, he needed to keep a chair behind her so he could dip her.
Later, we went down to the Riverside to sing some Kareoke. We ran into Rob and Shasta and a group of their friends. Unfortunately, also ran into some people from the high school reunion, which I really should have seen coming, but damn. One guy was really great; we were friends in high school, and he's grown and changed, but he's still fantastic. It was fun hearing about his life now that he's a grown-up and married, and back in WA. However, I ran into someone else who shall remain nameless, but he's moved out of state and has become a "Hollywood Type" and you should have SEEN the way he looked down his nose at me. Damn. I've seen some stink eyes in my day, but that man has snobbishness down to a science.
What really pissed me off though? The girl who took over the reunion and I used to be pretty tight back in the day. We went to the same church and were in the same choir. I haven't talked to her in years, but I figured all was cool. Ran into her, said hello, and she totally went "Oh hey! Great to see you! I've gotta run to the bathroom, but I'll be right back to catch up!".
She never came back and later that night, I walked by her seated at the table with asshole guy mentioned a few minutes ago. I guess you really do forget who your friends were. Oh well. She was kind of a snob back then, too, so I shouldn't be too hurt by it. Still. You think people would grow up at some point.
After we left the second bar, everyone came over to my place to drink and hang out for awhile. People were here until 4 in the morning, lol. The best reunions are the ones you make, I've decided. I got to see most of the people that I love and have missed since high school, and I didn't need to pay ridiculous amounts of money to go bowling and eat nachos at the reunion.
20 September 2008 @ 05:29 pm
I'm a woman with a lot of titles. Friend, sister, daughter, photographer, administrator, girlfriend, adventurer, homeowner, college student...
The hardest title I've ever had to admit to, let alone come to terms with was Rape Victim. Scratch that. Rape Survivor.
I intimately know the fear that comes along with telling. I know the panic, the judgment, the excuses. I've heard or experienced the backlash, the comment, and the reverse-accusations.
"You were drinking, you were asking for trouble."
"Well, when you dress like that, what do you expect?"
"Come on, it's a guy thing, you can't get us started and expect us to stop!"
"Everyone knows you don't walk to your car alone, seriously, what did you think was going to happen?"
When a person who has been sexually assaulted makes the choice to remain silent, I can fully understand their decision. Unfortunately, we live in a world where the victim has to prove that they didn't have it coming; didn't deserve the assault. Trials of those accused of rape are as much about the victim as the attacker.
Think about it;
A person who gets mugged after leaving the ATM is not repeatedly ask what he was doing taking money out of the bank
A car thief is not let off because the driver left the keys in the ignition.
A bank robber is not released when the teller reveals she gave the money up because she thought she was in danger, but didn't see a gun.
Why are rape victims (scratch that, survivors) continually asked to prove that a crime was even committed?
It's come to light that Sarah Palin, in her capacity as Mayor of Wasilla, AK, enforced a ridiculous law which charged rape victims for their own forensic evidence kits. While the law had been in place for many years prior, the previous mayor did not actually enforce the law.
While I'm beyond incredulous that such a law was ever written, I'm in complete and utter disbelief that it could ever be enforced...and by a woman, of all people!
When a police officer investigates a home invasion, he does not charge the homeowner for the print dust, lifters, microsil and film. Yet, rape victims are forced to pay for their own investigation. Unbelievable.
Worse, the enforcer of this abomination could well be on her way into the White House.
No, Wasilla is not the only county to do this. It's just the only one in Alaska. There are a few others scattered across the US, and I find it just as despicable there, but their mayors aren't potentially creating new legislation regarding my rights as a woman, (or lack thereof).
More Articles:
New Evidence: Palin had direct role in charging rape victims
USA Today -Palin's Town used to bill victims for rape kits
16 September 2008 @ 05:28 pm
I think one of the hardest parts of Multiple Sclerosis is that it robs a person of their ability to communicate. Words sound so perfect inside your head, but somewhere between the head and the mouth, the connection gets lost.
My mom called me tonight and left a message that it was important that I call her at 10:00pm. There was no explanation attached, but that's usually how our conversations go these days. She's able to ask me to call. So I did.
When she got on the line, she told me that it was very important to have her phone at 10 o'clock, and that she needed her phone somewhere around 10 o'clock every night, so it was good that I had called her. She also told me that they couldn't find her phone last night, and so she didn't have her phone, and it was important that she have her phone, so thank you for calling. (If that was difficult for you to read, please think about how difficult it is to hear. This is what this disease has done. )
I say "you're welcome, and I love you..." and take a breath. I know that phone means something very different to her, but I haven't a clue...and then it hits me. Her medication. She's been approved for a third brain surgery, and they've adjusted her meds. She needs her medicine at 10:00pm every night.
Phone = medicine. Tonight, anyway.
It's like a few weeks ago when she called my grandmother to tell her that my cat had died. Unfortunately, her brain replaced "Jupiter" with "Keelyn"...so what she said was "Keelyn died tonight."
Fortunately, she misdialed and called me instead.
I don't wish that on anyone. Having your mother declare you dead...well...that's...an experience.
This fucking disease is the worst game of charades.
My mom called me tonight and left a message that it was important that I call her at 10:00pm. There was no explanation attached, but that's usually how our conversations go these days. She's able to ask me to call. So I did.
When she got on the line, she told me that it was very important to have her phone at 10 o'clock, and that she needed her phone somewhere around 10 o'clock every night, so it was good that I had called her. She also told me that they couldn't find her phone last night, and so she didn't have her phone, and it was important that she have her phone, so thank you for calling. (If that was difficult for you to read, please think about how difficult it is to hear. This is what this disease has done. )
I say "you're welcome, and I love you..." and take a breath. I know that phone means something very different to her, but I haven't a clue...and then it hits me. Her medication. She's been approved for a third brain surgery, and they've adjusted her meds. She needs her medicine at 10:00pm every night.
Phone = medicine. Tonight, anyway.
It's like a few weeks ago when she called my grandmother to tell her that my cat had died. Unfortunately, her brain replaced "Jupiter" with "Keelyn"...so what she said was "Keelyn died tonight."
Fortunately, she misdialed and called me instead.
I don't wish that on anyone. Having your mother declare you dead...well...that's...an experience.
This fucking disease is the worst game of charades.
07 September 2008 @ 05:27 pm
It's been awhile since I've posted an update on Savannah's progress after her toxicity.
We've had her "final" (for now) vet visit. She's nearly fully recovered, but her back legs are still stiff, and you can tell her back bothers her. We have to keep her on medication for a little while longer, and we've been told to massage her back legs to keep her circulation going so that her body can heal the damaged tissue.
We also have to be exceedingly careful of the chemicals that she encounters. Because she had such a severe reaction to the Permythrin, she could now have toxic reactions to other chemicals. We've been told that if we're out walking and someone has sprayed Chem-Lawn on their yard, we need to cross to the other side of the street. Everything needs to be as chemical free as possible; from doggie shampoo, to food, to environment, to meds. One misstep and she could go through the paralysis and toxicity all over again.
The thing that bothers me the most though, is her personality. She's still our sweet Savannah, but she's quieter. She's calmer. Where she used to jump in and play with her brother, she's patient; sitting and waiting by the wayside. She rests more often and seems to be shyer and more cautious. You can't blame her with everything she's been through, but...I miss my old Savannah. I'm overjoyed that she's alive, and here with us. But I miss the part of my puppy that the horrid BioSpot stole.
It's like her innocence got stolen and she's a grown up dog now, no longer a pup
05 September 2008 @ 03:05 pm
So, in July, I made the decision to transfer colleges. Gonzaga has been completely useless, the offices are unreachable, the professors are only marginally interested in actually teaching, and I found the entire experience to be disorganized and not worth the money I was shelling out every semester. I called my student services coordinator and told him, and he told me that since I wasn't currently registered for any classes, that I would be fine to not make an appearance this semester, and if I wanted to come back, I would be fine to do so.
I thought that was a little odd, since I had registered for the fall semester, but when I logged in to the registrar's site, I was showing no classes for fall, and the class I had registered for wasn't listed in the course offerings. I figured class had been dropped due to low registration and I hadn't been notified...before you laugh, it's happened before...and I went on my way.
Today, I'm cleaning the living room and I notice a letter that had slipped under the sofa, unopened. It probably came in while I was in NY/CT and got lost in the fray. Regardless, it said that I WAS registered, and Gonzaga wanted their money for class, and I had until TODAY to withdraw officially.
Isn't that why I have a student services coordinator?!? He said that I was good to go, and I believed him. But when I called the registrar's office, she said that he was incorrect, that people can't be dropped without a process, and if I hadn't called in today, they would still have charged me tuition, REGARDLESS of the fact that I'd never logged into class.
See, THIS is why I'm leaving the school. They assign us distance-learners people who are supposed to navigate the Gonzaga world for us, and when they're WRONG, we're still in trouble for it.
Nice, Gonzaga. Real nice.
P.S. Day Five of the detox, 7 pounds lost.
I thought that was a little odd, since I had registered for the fall semester, but when I logged in to the registrar's site, I was showing no classes for fall, and the class I had registered for wasn't listed in the course offerings. I figured class had been dropped due to low registration and I hadn't been notified...before you laugh, it's happened before...and I went on my way.
Today, I'm cleaning the living room and I notice a letter that had slipped under the sofa, unopened. It probably came in while I was in NY/CT and got lost in the fray. Regardless, it said that I WAS registered, and Gonzaga wanted their money for class, and I had until TODAY to withdraw officially.
Isn't that why I have a student services coordinator?!? He said that I was good to go, and I believed him. But when I called the registrar's office, she said that he was incorrect, that people can't be dropped without a process, and if I hadn't called in today, they would still have charged me tuition, REGARDLESS of the fact that I'd never logged into class.
See, THIS is why I'm leaving the school. They assign us distance-learners people who are supposed to navigate the Gonzaga world for us, and when they're WRONG, we're still in trouble for it.
Nice, Gonzaga. Real nice.
P.S. Day Five of the detox, 7 pounds lost.
03 September 2008 @ 03:04 pm
(With apologies to Ronee, who saw the majority of this post in an email we bounced back and forth earlier)
So, on Sunday night, I started the Master Cleanse diet...which isn't really a diet at all, it's more of a detox. (Just google it, I'm not going to go into gory details here). Basically, it's a modified juice fast, and it cleans out all the gunk in your system.
Day One really sucked. Let me tell you. I drank like a fish and had a few cigs over the weekend, (hush, Rodney. I said a few and I'm sticking to it.), and I finished it all off with a delicious stuffed crust pizza slice dinner, so Monday morning, I was a mess. I was *craving* food...like I was ready to tear the door off the fridge...and then I thought; wow, how scary is this? My life really is revolving around food. It's all I could think about.
Day Two, I almost broke. Almost. Do you realize how obsessed we, as a culture, are with food? I want to hang out with a friend, I ask them over for dinner. Or we go out to a drink. Business meetings? Over lunch. Party? Who's brining the food. Home from work? What's for dinner? Seriously, every major event in our lives revolves around food. Watching the commercials between my tv show damn near did me in. But I prevailed.
Day Three changed everything. I woke up this morning with energy beyond belief. I feel FABULOUS today! Yesterday, I had a headache that lasted morning, noon, and night, and all my joints were sore. Woke up this morning and (still a little sore) but I have so much ENERGY!
Today's supposed to be really hard, and then tomorrow you're not supposed to crave food at all, but I'm actually doing ok today. Not craving anything so far. I've noticed that my sense of smell is REALLY heightened right now. My shampoo is Oatmeal and Honey, and generally smells pretty delish, but this morning in the shower...HEAVEN. Now that the nicotine has been taken out of my system, I'm not craving anything anymore, and the smell of a lit cigarette almost made me vomit today.
I think that it helps to have small goals, too. Like, if I were going to say that I was going to do this for 30 days like my friend Carolyna did…man, that's a long time and I'd probably give up! So, my goal is to make it to 4 days, since that's where I broke the last time that I tried. And then I'll probably say I'll make it to the weekend, which would be 5, and then I'll make it a whole week….
Days on the detox: 3
Lbs lost : 4
02 September 2008 @ 03:03 pm
I'm so upset right now.
My dad just showed up, "concerned about my health", and he "wants me to know that I'm getting a little pudgy, and don't I know that could cause heart and health problems?" He "just wants me to know I'm "getting fat".
Seriously.
But see, here's the thing. I've actually been on a diet. Yet, I splurged over the weekend when I was camping, but I've actually lost 10 lbs since he's seen me last. And I've actually been on a juice fast detox since I got back, so it's been a good 36 hours since I've eaten any real food.
I don't know when it became socially acceptable to call people out on their weight. Seriously, does he think that I don't know that I've gotten fat? I know. Trust me. I'm aware. I used to be a dancer and know I couldn't even imagine shimmying into my leotard and tights. But I'm working on it. I'm dieting. I'm working out...and I'm LOSING WEIGHT. Just because it doesn't happen overnight does NOT give anyone the right to call me names, ESPECIALLY my father!!!
A friend of mine at work actually had a new hire call her over to inform her that she had no ass. She didn't say it in the joking-around-kind-of-way; she was really hostile and nasty about it.
Another friend of mine was called "chunky" to her face out at a bar. The girl is MAYBE a size 6 and I'd personally kill for her body.
Look, it's not appropriate to make fun of people for their race, sexuality, religion, or gender. Why is it ok to make fun of people for being overweight?
The reason I always hear is, "Well, maybe no one's told you before. Maybe you don't know."
Um, really? I do turn on the TV. I do open the magazines. I know that guys lust after Jennifer Love Hewitt while America Ferrera (Ugly Betty) is just the cute, lovable girl next door. Trust me, I know that I'm the fat best friend/comic relief whenever I'm standing next to my other girl-friends. I'm the girl who guys hang out and have fun with, but I'm not the one they want to take to their bed. I'm well aware that I'm not the ideal.
But you know what? I'm WORKING ON IT.
So some people need to shut the hell up.
dammit.
My dad just showed up, "concerned about my health", and he "wants me to know that I'm getting a little pudgy, and don't I know that could cause heart and health problems?" He "just wants me to know I'm "getting fat".
Seriously.
But see, here's the thing. I've actually been on a diet. Yet, I splurged over the weekend when I was camping, but I've actually lost 10 lbs since he's seen me last. And I've actually been on a juice fast detox since I got back, so it's been a good 36 hours since I've eaten any real food.
I don't know when it became socially acceptable to call people out on their weight. Seriously, does he think that I don't know that I've gotten fat? I know. Trust me. I'm aware. I used to be a dancer and know I couldn't even imagine shimmying into my leotard and tights. But I'm working on it. I'm dieting. I'm working out...and I'm LOSING WEIGHT. Just because it doesn't happen overnight does NOT give anyone the right to call me names, ESPECIALLY my father!!!
A friend of mine at work actually had a new hire call her over to inform her that she had no ass. She didn't say it in the joking-around-kind-of-way; she was really hostile and nasty about it.
Another friend of mine was called "chunky" to her face out at a bar. The girl is MAYBE a size 6 and I'd personally kill for her body.
Look, it's not appropriate to make fun of people for their race, sexuality, religion, or gender. Why is it ok to make fun of people for being overweight?
The reason I always hear is, "Well, maybe no one's told you before. Maybe you don't know."
Um, really? I do turn on the TV. I do open the magazines. I know that guys lust after Jennifer Love Hewitt while America Ferrera (Ugly Betty) is just the cute, lovable girl next door. Trust me, I know that I'm the fat best friend/comic relief whenever I'm standing next to my other girl-friends. I'm the girl who guys hang out and have fun with, but I'm not the one they want to take to their bed. I'm well aware that I'm not the ideal.
But you know what? I'm WORKING ON IT.
So some people need to shut the hell up.
dammit.
20 August 2008 @ 03:03 pm
My beloved kitty is gone.
The prince of cats. The Godfather. The one who would sit on the porch and have neighborhood meetings with all the other cats. My pillow when I was cold. The one who greeted anyone and everyone with a headbut.
I wish I had a profound post. He deserves it. He deserved it.
My best friend.
It was of natural causes, and completely unrelated to Savannah's toxicity.
And why the fuck is "devastated" not a myspace mood you can select?!?!?
The prince of cats. The Godfather. The one who would sit on the porch and have neighborhood meetings with all the other cats. My pillow when I was cold. The one who greeted anyone and everyone with a headbut.
I wish I had a profound post. He deserves it. He deserved it.
My best friend.
It was of natural causes, and completely unrelated to Savannah's toxicity.
And why the fuck is "devastated" not a myspace mood you can select?!?!?
20 August 2008 @ 03:02 pm
After her stunning theatrics which alerted me to Savannah's toxic poisoning last weekend, Daytona has not forgotten where my bedroom window is. She now regularily stands up against the side of the house to look inside and check on things.
Think it's cute?
Try waking up at 3 in the morning and seeing the shadow of a German Shepard peeking in your window.
Yeah.
That'll get your blood flowing.
In other news, Savannah is recovering alright. She's not eating much, and she's still really lethargic, but her personality is coming back. Liz swears she saw a wiggle yesterday; (Savannah doesn't wag her tail, she wiggles her whole body). Everything is an improvement!
Think it's cute?
Try waking up at 3 in the morning and seeing the shadow of a German Shepard peeking in your window.
Yeah.
That'll get your blood flowing.
In other news, Savannah is recovering alright. She's not eating much, and she's still really lethargic, but her personality is coming back. Liz swears she saw a wiggle yesterday; (Savannah doesn't wag her tail, she wiggles her whole body). Everything is an improvement!
17 August 2008 @ 03:01 pm
She's home!
She's completely exhausted and she's still walking funny, but she's home. She's got a special diet for awhile and two different medications now. In two weeks we have her final exam to check for any remaining side effects.
Big thanks to the Sumner Veterinary Hospital and their fabulous staff in the Emergency Care team.
Extra big thanks to everyone who sent her prayers, happy thoughts, and snuggles.
And, in case you're curious, this is the itemized list of everything it took to save my puppy's life.
From our vet, do NOT, under any circumstances give you pet a Permythrin anti-flea medication. These include Advantix, Frontline, and BioSpot. A good alternative is Advantage, which doesn't use Permythrin. Though it's a bit more expensive, trust me, that itemized list above didn't come cheap, and losing her would be far, far worse.
17 August 2008 @ 03:01 pm
A big thank you to everyone who's been so concerned and shown love for my baby girl. And thanks to those who are reposting my original blog in their bullitens, too. If we can keep anyone else's kids or pets safe, we have to do it.
I just talked to the vet. Savannah is doing a little better. First thing they did was give her two baths to try to clean off as much of that horrible flea treatment as they could. They have her on IV's and medications, and she's going to be on meds for awhile, but things are looking up. They even had her standing up and walking around a little this morning! We don't know when she can come home, but if she continues to show improvement, it might be tonight.
I'm going to be contacting the local pet stores who sell BioSpot, as well as the manufacturer. They've been sued over this same issue; a poor doggie started having grand mal seizures after using BioSpot. If everyone who has a pet have a horrible reaction to this drug starts raising hell, maybe they'll do something to change their formula.
Thanks for all the love! I'll give Savannah the snuggles, and Daytona gets a huge frickin bone for her heroics. I can't even imagine if we didn't adopt her two weeks ago....
I just talked to the vet. Savannah is doing a little better. First thing they did was give her two baths to try to clean off as much of that horrible flea treatment as they could. They have her on IV's and medications, and she's going to be on meds for awhile, but things are looking up. They even had her standing up and walking around a little this morning! We don't know when she can come home, but if she continues to show improvement, it might be tonight.
I'm going to be contacting the local pet stores who sell BioSpot, as well as the manufacturer. They've been sued over this same issue; a poor doggie started having grand mal seizures after using BioSpot. If everyone who has a pet have a horrible reaction to this drug starts raising hell, maybe they'll do something to change their formula.
Thanks for all the love! I'll give Savannah the snuggles, and Daytona gets a huge frickin bone for her heroics. I can't even imagine if we didn't adopt her two weeks ago....
17 August 2008 @ 03:00 pm
The first thing that you should know is that as I'm writing this, my dog Savannah is in the Veterinary Emergency room.We're not 100% certain that she's going to be okay, but we're hoping for the best, and the vet seems to be optimistic.
Please, if you have a pet, please read this blog. I'll try to keep it short, but it's really important you don't make the same mistake that we did.
Today started like any other. I got up around 8, and got the dogs up. Savannah, Daytona and Vegas spent the day lounging in front of the fans in the house; the only place where it's cool at all. They ate, got plenty of water, and seemed to be doing just fine in the heat.
Savannah's had some flea issues lately. Normally, she gets Advantage or Frontline, but the local pet store reccomended BioSpot as a cheaper, safe alternative. Around dinnertime, Liz gave her a dose and later on put the dogs to bed.
I've been sleeping with my window open, since a neighbor recently complained about the dog's barking at night and keeping her up. After a beer and an hour's catchup on the DVR, I drifted off to sleep.
At around midnight, I hear Daytona start jumping on the house by my window. Figuring that she's just fussy because it's hot and she wants back in the house, I shout at her to be quiet and drift back off to sleep. About a half hour later, she's jumping up on the back door, and being really insistant about it. My gut is to stick in my headphones and go back to sleep, but I thought better and got up.
I turned off the alarm and went into the backyard. Nothing was going on. I was going to go back inside and head back to bed but something told me to go check on the other two dogs. (They sleep in a room, Daytona sleeps outside- not cause we don't love her, but she's terrified of enclosed spaces).
The instant I opened the door, I knew something was horribly, horribly wrong. The room was so hot that I initially thought there must be a wiring fire in the walls. Moisture was dripping off the window, and....no...terrifyingly...there is blood all over the wall.
Savannah is covered in sweat, has drool pouring out of her mouth...and her back legs won't work. She's trying to stand up and it's like she's paralyzed from the waist down. She collapses on the ground, panting harder than I've ever seen a dog pant before.
My first thought is 'heat stroke'! I run to get the hose and pour cool water over her paws and on her underside to try and lower her body temperature. It doesn't help. I run in the house, wake Liz up, and we call the vet. Luckily, we have an awesome clinic with a 24 hour emergency vet.
We load her into the car and take her to the clinic. She's still out of it, and can't walk, so we carry her in hammock style in a blanket. We still think it's heat stroke, but the vet says that doesn't make any sense with the stats he's seeing. We analyze the day over and over, and finally Liz remembers that we gave her the BioSpot.
The light comes on, and the vet says that makes sense. She's suffering from nerve damage due to chemical toxicity.
My heart stopped.
Evidently, BioSpot contains Permithrin, like a lot of pet flea products. But in BioSpot, there are higher levels of the toxic chemical. PLUS, the individual doses may have variations in their level of concentration; meaning if you gave your dog the dose ONCE and it was fine, (like Savannah), the SECOND dose may be twice as strong and do damage...there's NO regulation.
I've been doing research, and Savannah is not the only dog to have a near-deadly reaction to BioSpot. Evidently, it's not only toxic to some dogs, but can KILL your cat, and cause the same nerve damage to your CHILD, if they are exposed.
We thought we were helping Savannah beat the fleas. Instead, we put her in the E.R. Please, I know it's sold absolutely everywhere, and the stores want you to believe that it's safe, but DO NOT buy this horrible product. The $60 we thought was too expensive for Advantage pales in comparison to losing your beloved dog. Assuming she pulls through, we've already racked up $1200.00 worth of vet bills.
Here's something else I found out:
What is known about Bio Spot's main active ingredient, Permethrin? A few drops of it can be deadly to a cat. Toxicological studies have linked this pesticide to serious acute and chronic health effects. The EPA has classified it as a possible human carcinogen because it increases the frequency of lung and liver tumors in laboratory animals. It suppresses the immune system. Permethrin is also suspected to have played an important role in the development of illnesses known as the Gulf War Syndrome.
In a recently published journal entitled, Experimental Neurology, researchers at Duke University Medical Center found that frequent and prolonged use of Permethrin on adult rats lead to cell death in their brains. In another recent study, researchers at Virginia Tech found that low-level exposure to Permethrin caused changes in the brain that could lead to Parkinson's Disease.
The inert ingredients in Bio Spot, which are not disclosed, may pose an even greater risk because they receive much less scrutiny by the Environmental Protection Agency. The cumulative and synergistic effects of these chemicals are not required to be tested for safety.
12 August 2008 @ 02:41 pm
Phoenix, AZ. Las Vegas, NV. Norwalk, CT. New York, NY. SeaTac, WA.
Five cities. Five days. Coast-to-Coast and back again in what was supposed to be a four day quick jump to CT and back.
I left SeaTac on Thursday night, right after work. It was supposed to be a red eye which would land me in Norwalk, CT on Friday morning in time for an appointment. (For those who know what the appointment was regarding, everything went very well, and everything worked out just fine.For those who want to know, I'm sorry, it's not my news to share.)
Mother nature had other plans. After circling the Phoenix airport for two hours, we were informed that there were severe thunderstorms over the city and we wouldn't be able to land. We would be diverted to Las Vegas to refuel and wait out the storm. It was at this moment that I had the distinct feeling that this trip would not go as smoothly as I had planned.
I tried bargaining with the flight attendant. I explained the reasons for needing to make my connecting flight to JFK. I asked for alternatives flights or accomadations from the Las Vegas airport. There was nothing to be had. While half the passengers were removed from the plane and bounced onto other flights, my only option was to wait out the storm and fly into Phoenix and hope that my connecting flight couldn't get out in the storm.
Luckily, it hadn't. Instead, it had been pushed until 1:30 in the morning...instead of the 9 pm flight it was meant to be. Which meant that I arrived at JFK at 9am instead of 6, and after the 2 hour drive down to Connecticut, I arrived at the meeting just as it was over. Stupid airplanes.
Jill and I spend the rest of the day in the hotel room watching movies and ordering room service and pay-per-view. Um, seriously? Do not rent In Bruges. I don't care what the trailers say, it is NOT a comedy and Colin Farrell's cuteness and Irish accent are not enough to save the bad storytelling and horrid effects. Just warning ya.
Sometime in the afternoon, we decided to spend Saturday in New York City. We looked up train tickets and decided that we could afford a train ticket to Manhattan and spend the day sightseeing before coming back to CT and flying home on Sunday morning. 12 hours in the city is hardly enough time, but we've never been, so we decided to make a whirlwind tour and do as much as we could with the time we had.
(to be continued)
Five cities. Five days. Coast-to-Coast and back again in what was supposed to be a four day quick jump to CT and back.
I left SeaTac on Thursday night, right after work. It was supposed to be a red eye which would land me in Norwalk, CT on Friday morning in time for an appointment. (For those who know what the appointment was regarding, everything went very well, and everything worked out just fine.For those who want to know, I'm sorry, it's not my news to share.)
Mother nature had other plans. After circling the Phoenix airport for two hours, we were informed that there were severe thunderstorms over the city and we wouldn't be able to land. We would be diverted to Las Vegas to refuel and wait out the storm. It was at this moment that I had the distinct feeling that this trip would not go as smoothly as I had planned.
I tried bargaining with the flight attendant. I explained the reasons for needing to make my connecting flight to JFK. I asked for alternatives flights or accomadations from the Las Vegas airport. There was nothing to be had. While half the passengers were removed from the plane and bounced onto other flights, my only option was to wait out the storm and fly into Phoenix and hope that my connecting flight couldn't get out in the storm.
Luckily, it hadn't. Instead, it had been pushed until 1:30 in the morning...instead of the 9 pm flight it was meant to be. Which meant that I arrived at JFK at 9am instead of 6, and after the 2 hour drive down to Connecticut, I arrived at the meeting just as it was over. Stupid airplanes.
Jill and I spend the rest of the day in the hotel room watching movies and ordering room service and pay-per-view. Um, seriously? Do not rent In Bruges. I don't care what the trailers say, it is NOT a comedy and Colin Farrell's cuteness and Irish accent are not enough to save the bad storytelling and horrid effects. Just warning ya.
Sometime in the afternoon, we decided to spend Saturday in New York City. We looked up train tickets and decided that we could afford a train ticket to Manhattan and spend the day sightseeing before coming back to CT and flying home on Sunday morning. 12 hours in the city is hardly enough time, but we've never been, so we decided to make a whirlwind tour and do as much as we could with the time we had.
(to be continued)
12 August 2008 @ 02:41 pm
I'm sitting on a plane. Out my passenger window, the Las Vegas strip twinkles, illuminating the blackness. The Luxor's beam shines like an open challenge to the nearly full moon.
Ordinarily, Vegas' brightness would be lifting my spirits as I anticipated the sweet clinging bells of the slot machine. But for right now, I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time; though the party rages on next door and temps me with the lure of glamour, wager, and sinful delights, I cannot partake.
I'm stranded at the airport waiting for the storms to clear over Phoenix so I can get back to the starting point on what is shaping up to be a very long journey.
At this point, even if I get back to Phoenix, I'll have missed all of my connections and I'm destined to be out of place once again in just a few hours.
Delays. Missed connections. Unexpected isolation.
Suddenly, the universe has found a convenient metaphor for my life.
I am not exactly amused.
Needless to say, when I stepped out into the great wide world more than a decade ago, I was not anticipating being 28 and a permanent resident of my home town.
When I left the bright lights of the Performing Arts Center and headed out to the even brighter lights of the big city stages, I was sure I would find a home there. I just didn't know I would see the lights and their sparkle would illuminate my way right back home to that small town.
When I received my undergrad degree, my mind filled with relentless ambitions as I envisioned the great goals I was about to accomplish. Those visions never entailed working as a training administrator at a national retailer.
But here's the thing.
My life may not be anywhere near what I'd planned. It's so much better. I love my life, unexpected twists and turns included.
As my plane pulls back from the gate and we begin to taxi towards the runway, it occures to me that, just maybe, it's those diverted routes and missed connections that really make all the difference.
The lights of the Strip are shrinking now, fading into the night and suddenly not looking quite so bright. I settle back into my seat, cuddle into the blanket and nestle my iPod back into my ears and prepare myself for the next adventure to come.
8/7/08, Las Vegas, NV
Ordinarily, Vegas' brightness would be lifting my spirits as I anticipated the sweet clinging bells of the slot machine. But for right now, I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time; though the party rages on next door and temps me with the lure of glamour, wager, and sinful delights, I cannot partake.
I'm stranded at the airport waiting for the storms to clear over Phoenix so I can get back to the starting point on what is shaping up to be a very long journey.
At this point, even if I get back to Phoenix, I'll have missed all of my connections and I'm destined to be out of place once again in just a few hours.
Delays. Missed connections. Unexpected isolation.
Suddenly, the universe has found a convenient metaphor for my life.
I am not exactly amused.
Needless to say, when I stepped out into the great wide world more than a decade ago, I was not anticipating being 28 and a permanent resident of my home town.
When I left the bright lights of the Performing Arts Center and headed out to the even brighter lights of the big city stages, I was sure I would find a home there. I just didn't know I would see the lights and their sparkle would illuminate my way right back home to that small town.
When I received my undergrad degree, my mind filled with relentless ambitions as I envisioned the great goals I was about to accomplish. Those visions never entailed working as a training administrator at a national retailer.
But here's the thing.
My life may not be anywhere near what I'd planned. It's so much better. I love my life, unexpected twists and turns included.
As my plane pulls back from the gate and we begin to taxi towards the runway, it occures to me that, just maybe, it's those diverted routes and missed connections that really make all the difference.
The lights of the Strip are shrinking now, fading into the night and suddenly not looking quite so bright. I settle back into my seat, cuddle into the blanket and nestle my iPod back into my ears and prepare myself for the next adventure to come.
8/7/08, Las Vegas, NV
12 August 2008 @ 02:38 pm
Drain the veins in my head
Clean out the reds in my eyes to get by security lines
Dear x-ray machine
Pretend you don't know me so well
I wont tell if you lied
Cry, cause the droughts been brought up
Drinkin' cause you're lookin so good in your starbucks cup
I complain for the company that I keep
The windows for sleeping rearrange
And I'm nobody
Well who's laughin now
I'm leaving your town again
And I'm over the ground that you've been spinning
And I'm up in the air so baby hell yeah
Well I can see your house from here
If the plane goes down, damn
I'll remember where the love was found
If the plane goes down, damn
Damn, I should be so lucky
Even only 24 hours under your touch
You know I need you so much
I cannot wait to call you
And tell you that I landed somewhere
And hand you a square of the airport
And walk you through the maze of the map
That im gazing at
Gracefully unnamed and feeling guilty for the luck
And the look that you gave me
You make me somebody
Ain't nobody knows me
Not even me can see it, yet I bet I'm
I'm leaving your town again love
But I'm over the quilt that you've spinning
And I'm up in the air, so baby hell yeah
Oh honey I can see your house from here
If the plane goes down, damn
I'll remember where the love was found
If the plane goes down, damn
Flax seeds, well they tear me open
And supposedly you can crawl right through me
Taste these teeth please
And undress me from these sweaters better hurry
Cause I'm keeping upward bound now
Oh maybe I'll build my house in your cloud
Here I'm tumbling for you
Stumbling through the work that I have to do
Don't mean to harm you
If the plane goes down, damn
Well I'll remember where the love was found
Who do you
Think you are, are, are, are
To keep me so oh cold, cold
You keep me high minded
03 August 2008 @ 02:36 pm
As some of you know, we have a new member of our family; a new doggie named Daytona!
Daytona comes to us as a rescue. At work, we have this thing called "Classifieds" which is essentially classified ads, but only for our employees. I saw a posting on there awhile back. A woman up at headquarters posted that her neighbor had been mistreating his dog; leaving her locked outside in a tiny yard all day and all night. Poor thing was only getting a little bit of water once a day, only a little bit of food, slept on a rock all night, no health care, and wasn't allowed to come in, even when we had those freezing-and-below days. The humane society had been called several times, and finally, after much prompting, the owner had agreed to give up the dog for adoption.
I watched the ad for a few weeks, and after seeing it there continuously, I sent my roomate an offhanded text message, "So, tell me why we can't adopt another dog, because I know one that needs a home." Her response? "Well, why not?" I sent the friend at HQ an email, plans were made, and three days later we brought Savannah up for a meet and greet.
We fell in love and took her home the same day.
The ride home went really well; she laid down in the backseat with Savannah and seemed to enjoy the ride. We stopped off at Petco for a few things, and we discovered that she really didn't know how to walk on linoleum, but she took it like a champ and stayed right by our side. She picked out her first squeaky toy ), a little pink and blue elephant. At home, she met Vegas. He's so big and bouncy that she was really spooked for a bit, and they had a brief growly session, but that was quickly over, and now they get along just fine.
She's slowly but surely coming around to her new life. Saturday, she wouldn't come out from her corner of the yard, but today she's out and about, playing a little with the other dogs before retreating to the shade of her new favorite place: the apple tree. (See the pics!) Yesterday, she and Liz were bonding, and today she and I were actually playing chase. If you run, she'll chase you, but when you turn on her, she'll get in pounce position, waiting for you to give chase. It's fun to see her warming up a little. She still refuses to go into the house, but today she'll walk up to the doorframe. At night, she won't come into the doggie room, and she won't sleep in the outside doghouse, preferring the cement slab of the patio, but I figure that she's got shelter if she really wants it, so it's ok.
The other two dogs can't quite figure out what's wrong with her; why she doesn't want to come out and play, but they're playing nice and keeping their distance. She'll come around, I'm sure!
Daytona comes to us as a rescue. At work, we have this thing called "Classifieds" which is essentially classified ads, but only for our employees. I saw a posting on there awhile back. A woman up at headquarters posted that her neighbor had been mistreating his dog; leaving her locked outside in a tiny yard all day and all night. Poor thing was only getting a little bit of water once a day, only a little bit of food, slept on a rock all night, no health care, and wasn't allowed to come in, even when we had those freezing-and-below days. The humane society had been called several times, and finally, after much prompting, the owner had agreed to give up the dog for adoption.
I watched the ad for a few weeks, and after seeing it there continuously, I sent my roomate an offhanded text message, "So, tell me why we can't adopt another dog, because I know one that needs a home." Her response? "Well, why not?" I sent the friend at HQ an email, plans were made, and three days later we brought Savannah up for a meet and greet.
We fell in love and took her home the same day.
The ride home went really well; she laid down in the backseat with Savannah and seemed to enjoy the ride. We stopped off at Petco for a few things, and we discovered that she really didn't know how to walk on linoleum, but she took it like a champ and stayed right by our side. She picked out her first squeaky toy ), a little pink and blue elephant. At home, she met Vegas. He's so big and bouncy that she was really spooked for a bit, and they had a brief growly session, but that was quickly over, and now they get along just fine.
She's slowly but surely coming around to her new life. Saturday, she wouldn't come out from her corner of the yard, but today she's out and about, playing a little with the other dogs before retreating to the shade of her new favorite place: the apple tree. (See the pics!) Yesterday, she and Liz were bonding, and today she and I were actually playing chase. If you run, she'll chase you, but when you turn on her, she'll get in pounce position, waiting for you to give chase. It's fun to see her warming up a little. She still refuses to go into the house, but today she'll walk up to the doorframe. At night, she won't come into the doggie room, and she won't sleep in the outside doghouse, preferring the cement slab of the patio, but I figure that she's got shelter if she really wants it, so it's ok.
The other two dogs can't quite figure out what's wrong with her; why she doesn't want to come out and play, but they're playing nice and keeping their distance. She'll come around, I'm sure!