Placebo Parenthood

Lately, I have been thinking to myself that I needed to post some pictures of Lily, bc it has been a long time, and her cuteness should be shared with the world.


This was NOT what I had in mind.


There is a HOLE in my dog. She has been ventilated. Punctured. Perforated.


Among other things. Lately, our dog has been keeping us on our toes, trying to figure out what her next emergency is going to be. I find myself going to work tired, complaining because my dog was sick, and she kept me up all night.

I swear, one night she woke us up, scared, because of a nightmare.


I'm sure all you real parents are laughing at my extreme naivete, but right now I'm going to bask in my ignorance and pretend like real parenthood isn't a zillion times harder than this. So we're spending our time thumbing through medical books, debating on whether to call the vet, or self-treat. Wondering if another emergency room visit is in our future. That sort of thing. What I have figured out is that I'm one lousy parent once I'm asleep. Every time there is a 'Lily issue' it always manifests in the middle of the night, and it is always David who wakes up to her distress. If David wasn't around…… poor Lily. He wakes me up, of course, once he's figured out something is wrong. Then it's Vet-Tech Tiffy! Complete with medical reference!


So here is the fun we've been having the last month: A 2 am wake up, in which we discover our dog has become a dog-toad hybrid. She apparently broke out in hives from contact with something (?!) Who knows. David thinks it was something on the beach, and I vouch for the sno-cone syrup-covered asphalt in front of Matsumotos. The world may never know.

Unhappy/Drugged Lily

I couldn't decide which one showed up the best.

Not a square inch of her body escaped the hives

Then, she got ventilated by my sister's friend's dog. Apparently the dog was snappy? Would have been a good thing to know beforehand… The lady whose dog bit mine did feel really bad, even though they (my sister and she) DIDN'T NOTICE that my dog was bleeding everywhere and locked her in a room until we randomly came over. It's kind of our fault, bc we should have stayed over there longer to watch her. She's ok though, so no biggie. But It still kind of freaks me out that I can watch my dog's muscles work from a unique angle. I spent most of my weekend running around the house, repeatedly scaring the crap out of my dog by yelling and trying to get her to lay on her uninjured side. Apparently she enjoys leaving blood and such all over my apartment. You would think scratchy carpet fibers would not feel good inside your body.

I wish I had taken a pic right after it happened, instead of waiting a week. It used to look a lot more impressive.

Here's what woke me up at 2 am one morning that scared the hell out of me:

Mainly I was a wreck because Lily was obviously freaking out - nervous, skittish and very cuddly (she does that when she's in pain). For the life of me, I could not figure out what was wrong with her. She seemed fine…. after several horrifying minutes while my brain invented things that might be wrong (did I accidentally get hydrogen peroxide INSIDE her body cavity!?) I decided she had a nightmare.


Anyway, the fun continues. I don't know why my dog can't keep out of trouble. Heaven help me when I have actual kids who get hurt, are pitiful, AND can complain in English. (Ow!! Quit pouring that burning stuff on me!!) My kids are in for a rough time. The dog has shown me that hydrogen peroxide cures all. I'm like the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, but with H2O2 instead of Windex.


My poor dog. She is taking after her mom in the scar department. At least David manages to keep himself in one piece.

Gravity Pulls Especially Hard on Me

It has been too long since my last activity-related accident, so I decided to do this one up big.

The setup is basically this: Gas prices are ridiculous, and we live pretty close to the harbor where our ferry takes off, as you can see from the map below. The red line is if we drive, and the yellow is if we bike. Obviously, biking just makes more sense. I need the exercise anyway.



However, I also need to be able to walk, and apparently the two are at odds.

We woke up a little late on this particular day, and were rushing to make it in time. We ran out the door at 6:15 (we normally have to leave at 6:10 to make it) and went downstairs to get our bikes. I am a slower biker than David, so I thought I'd start out ahead of him, and he could catch up.

So I did, and.. no David



Still no David….

Finally, at the point where we go off property to off-road it, I stopped to wait for him. What the hell was taking so long!?

That was when I saw our car drive past with David in it.

Mother Bitches.

So I'm on my own, and my effort is not even going to save me any gas $ today. So I'm kind of pissed. I start biking, while thinking to myself, he probably has a very good reason to drive. He is probably trying to make it to the boat to tell them to wait for you, and it is your fault anyway for not telling him you were going to go on ahead.

Unfortunately, I'm a girl, so logic does not always actually influence my mind.

So I'm still kind of mad as I go around a turn - and with my newfound rage powering my tiny muscles, inertia and gravity kind of ganged up on me.

I'm going down, and it is going to be ugly. Time to bail. But wait! My foot is encircled with one of those pedal cages to make my bike experience 'more efficient'. So about 1/10 of a millisecond into the fall, I feel the top of my food hit the cage, and I know I'm screwed. My brain gets halfway through a curse word before I actually hit the ground.

It's bad. I'm in pain, all alone, and still far-off and late for the boat. I had a quick moment of extreme self-pity, (cue silent tears) and then got back on the bike and pushed myself to make it on time. Heck, I even beat David who was in the car.

Which means that by the time he finally showed up, the shock had worn off and he was there for the beginning of the hysterics.

It was not a fun boat ride. I was bleeding from my hands, foot, and hip, and I'm not a Big Girl. I'm a Weenie. So all the other patrons had to listen to me moan as we tried to clean out the wound, which was huge, hurt, and was coated in dirt.

It ended up being ridiculously painful. Every time my heart beat for a week and a half, my leg would throb. Standing up was horrible - I could feel all the blood rushing to my damaged nerve endings, searing them with pain. It was just a scrape, so what was up with feeling the need to amputate my leg?! Maybe because the area was so large, there were tons of nerve endings? I shaved off a big piece of leg - the fall was deep enough that it scraped off the layer of skin that my hair grows out of - it is a weirdly bald patch on my leg. Gack. For some reason, that thought grosses me out. Probably bc it happened to me.

Anyway, so I'm crippled again. Some hilarity has ensued, including me running over people in Costco with one of those handicapped electric carts, walking around like a cheesy zombie extra, and a drug overdose (David had some leftover pain pills from his surgery) during Paul's birthday dinner that really whacked me out.

It's been three weeks, and I still look like a burn victim. There goes my modeling career. (Hello Twinkes!) I originally was not going to post a picture, as the wound is kind of high up my leg. However, David insisted, so here it is, as edited as possible to protect your virgin eyes. Although, it doesn't look as bad as it did in person. I feel the need to mention that Paul, who has seen dead bodies, was grossed out. Note the crazy swelling line on my lower leg.

This place is going to turn me into Quasimodo. I was apparently built for indoor-use only.

Oh, and David did have a good reason for leaving me - his bike had a flat.

I hope you enjoyed my re-creation of the accident in Photoshop. I know it looked top-notch.

(Still think I should be a graphic designer, Mom!?)

Culinary Collapse

I got this advertisment out of the main newspaper in the islands. Something is very wrong when Spam is considered to be a wise choice for luring customers to your restaurant.

Nature and I Don't Get Along

I'm attempting to be healthier, right? So, that means more physical exertion - blah.

Man, I am one lazy bi-atch.

So this time, when Courtney invited me on a hike, instead of claiming some debilitation, I accepted.

We headed over to the Kailua side, which I love because it is much more lush, which is kind of lacking where I live. We trade lush for sunny on our side.

We hiked the Nuuanu/Jackass Ginger Trail - it was a great hike. It's hard to write about, because if you're lucky, nothing wacky happens on a hike. So I'll just let the pictures do the narration.

Well, there's going to be some narration - by itself, all this picture says is 'trees'. Boring.

This was the start of the trail, a fun little forest of what I believe are Cook Pines, which were planted by Captain Cook for replacement masts. Courtney is probably going to read this and have to correct something in that sentence.

Here I am inwardly laughing at this rope placed over a 'dangerous' part of the trail as I pretend to fall. (I'm good at that - tons of experience). Ha! Ropes are for wussies.

Here I am in the middle of the 18? 20? switchbacks it takes to get up the mountain. You can see the forest from the earlier picture above my head. I am currently sitting down to stuff ti leaves in my shoes, which were starting to bother me.

A place on the trail with a view of downtown Honolulu.

I love Banyan trees.

At the top of the switchbacks - it was tough going. As you can see, my dog is pooped. The second we sat down she decided to collapse.



The last leg of the hike to the lookout features a bamboo forest area. It seems that all good trails has one of these. Kind of like a playground in a subdivision. A must-have to be primo.

The final view. We have a picture with me, Courtney, and Paul in it, but I look like I'm having a seizure, because there was a group of Asian guys at the top who were enjoying the moment with some ipod tunes, and it was perched precariously on the cliff face. Naturally, Lily became curious and attempted to nose it off the mountain. Heart attack.


At this point, I am actually bleeding into my sock, and no amount of ti leaves on earth is going to help me. Every step felt like my feet were being attacked by microscopic weasels. Paul needed to get down as quickly as possible to make it to work on time, and I wasn't helping stopping every 1000 ft for replacement ti leaves.

Neither was Courtney, who was jumping into trees randomly while I hunted for leaves. What was crazy was that, somehow, BEAR CLIMBED THE TREE TOO. I circled her head for you, bc otherwise you would never see it. I thought Lily was going to end up in the doggie ER trying to figure out how Bear did it.

It turns out I am an old woman at the age of 26. All those switchbacks finished the job horseback riding started by destroying my knees before I got even 1/3 of the way down. Now, each step felt like attacking weasels, with a side of knee screws. Here I am reveling in the before scoffed-upon rope, with my Wilderness Crutch.

That gave me splinters.

We were planning on swimming in Jackass Ginger Pool (where Hawaiian royalty used to come to relax) but due to time-crunch, we had to skip it.
Personally, I didn't mind too much, because I was freaking starving. I didn't know what we were going to eat for lunch, but I was going to have a lot of it.

Right after I stemmed the bleeding from my feet.

Hang Loose, Brah

Well, I haven't written anything Hawaiiany or self-deprecating in a while, so let's kill two birds with one stone.

Surfing.

The quintessential Hawaiian pastime. Hang 10, shoot the pipe, cut loose……my mastery of the lingo is about on par with my actual talent of the sport. In other words, I don’t know what the hell I'm doing.

This is reflected in my board of choice - as you can see, it is one of those blue beginner foam-top boards. You see tons of toddlers out there on them. I have yet to decide if I like my board bc it says 'Hey! I'm old and I suck. So watch out and don't expect much' or if I hate it because it says 'Hey I'm old and I suck. What a stupid loser haole'. It goes back and forth.

Actually, since I'm so tall, my board is a little short, which makes surfing even harder. I personally have a problem with this because to use it, my feet have to hang off the back, further enhancing the look of Tasty Seal Snack for all those sharks out there. I just know they're circling.
So after my bout of self-doubt, I effect the 'ainokea' (read: I no care) attitude of the islands, and try to seem at ease and cool, only to end up looking like an even bigger dork before I even get in the water. See below.

To seal the deal, my first time out was a bit hard - I got up, at least. Well, almost. It's kind of doggie-style boarding, to be exact. The waves were small that day, ok!?

In the end I gave up and headed back in. I always get irrationally angry at nature while I'm out there. I can take a wave in the face, pushing me back over and over, only so many times. Imagine me on my beginner board, my legs in the air so I won't be eaten by a shark, looking really pissed and cursing. I'm not sure when this is supposed to become enjoyable.

I can't really stay out that long, anyway. My noodle arms are still in full effect, and you won't believe what a workout all that paddling is. David likes to point out that the reason I suck is that even when I'm positioned well to catch a wave my 'paddling hard' to gain momentum with the incoming tide is less than effective. As in nothing happens. Whatever. I think this is his badly-disguised attempt at some 'hard love' (aka mildly degrading) encouragement to inspire me to work out more frequently. But more than likely I'll just continue to be skinny and bad at surfing.

Maybe I'll try to videotape me surfing next time we go out - that would be pretty hilarious to those of you at home. Of course, we would have to use 5 hours of tape to catch the one time I actually make a wave in all of the other false starts.

In the end, I decided to retire to the beach, and needing to feel superior to something, I buried my sister's dog in the sand. Bear was less than pleased, but a good sport.

In this pic, you can see David heading out on my board in the background - Lily is not amused. He couldn't get up very well either, but that is probably because my board is way too small for him.

At least our whole family isn't a disgrace - Court can get up.

Outside of the water, I'm a cool surfer. I got a surfing scar during an outing so now I'm 'boss'. Or whatever. I'm still working on the lingo.

To Diet, or Not To Diet.........NOT, a Thousand Times Not.

Yes, I know. I was on a diet. No throwing stones, please. I can already hear the comments - "Why are you dieting?!" "You're so thin! You should be sitting down and eating a box of Ho-Hos, not carrots!"

Believe me, I would love nothing more than to do just that.

No, I have not come to Hawaii and gained 50 lbs either, in case you were wondering. I'm fairly thinnish- I'll admit it. However, a most of you know, I'm not the healthiest eater out there. If it's fried, covered in cheese and dipped in ranch, I don't care what it is - I'll eat it. David is not too fond of my lifetime goal of making sure that I die off before he does via clogged arteries, either. So, one day in Borders I found this book that was on sale (that should have been a clue right there) from a fairly prominent diet person, and I thought I'd try to eat a little healthier and lose a few pounds too. Why not? It was a detox diet - most people have heard of them. They involve a lot of cranberries and flax, I have discovered.

In an act of kindness, I timed the diet to coincide with a long business trip of David's so he wouldn't have to suffer through it as well. Lucky.

It was hell. I mean, really. Sweet mother, I had no idea food could be so unappetizing. Everything tasted like dirt. That's the thing about diets - they work because the food is so nasty, you have to push yourself to consume what is prescribed, much less overeating. I have never had so many vegetables in my life - or so many different kinds. Most of you know I am mildly picky - but there are certain foods that I really hate - such as onions. You had to eat a lot of onions on this plan. And Brussel sprouts, too. I tended to blend these items up as small as possible and revert back to my 5 year-old frame of mind - quickly take a bite and gulp it down with water, while making sure the tongue somehow never touches the offending food. It could have almost been funny, if I weren't working so hard to suppress my gag reflex. So, each day I after work I would trudge home to the kitchen, spend at least 3 HOURS making my dinner and then breakfast, 2 snacks, and lunch for the following day. Clean up, brush my teeth, and climb into my lonely bed, dejected. By the end of the week, my previous love of the kitchen had been replaced by loathing and apprehension. (What were they going to make me eat next!?) I think the worst part was somewhere around the 3rd day, when I started going into withdrawal.

Let me be clear - I obviously have no idea what real withdrawal is like. It is like most of us are lucky to be ignorant as to how much a bullet wound really hurts. We've all badly twisted an ankle - and it hurts - so a bullet wound must hurt a lot more, right? Our minds just can't quite grasp it, because we have no expereince with the true depth of that physical pain. So my withdrawal is kind of like that. In my world, it required great dedication and willpower - although I'm sure someone who has gone through the real thing would probably want to smack me upside the head. So just keep that in mind while I whine. I know I am. But this is currently my darkest withdrawal moment, so I'm going to milk it. What am I addicted to, pray tell?

SUGAR.

Good lord, I had no idea. I NEED it. That usual niggling in the back of your mind that wants sweets after dinner becomes an all-out desperate cry when you know you can't satisfy it. It kept me up. I couldn't stop thinking about them (sweets). I was irritable and impatient. It's probably a good thing David wasn't around. Of course, poor Paul and Courtney got the brunt of my bitching, as a side-effect. Sorry guys! You were champs - very sympathetic. Except for that time I was over at Courtney's house, lamenting in her kitchen, and right in the middle of my diatribe she decided to brightly point out that she had cupcakes and would like to eat one.

Must be passive aggressive hostility left over from childhood.

Paul was nice, anyway. In short, I spent around 6 days in various states of crazy as I got over the hump. I never would have guessed my previous lack of willpower would backlash in such a way.

This all climaxed with a day of fasting, during which, I must admit, I was never hungry. At least that part was true. It was weird though. Nothing but spiced-up cranberry juice every other hour and I was fine. Predictably, I lost 4 lbs on this day. Luckily, I just assumed I would gain it all back, so when I did there was not a 'good-bye, cruel world' moment. After that there was three more days of diet to ease you back into eating and 'lock in the results.' Ha.

Get rid of fatty toxins! Speed up metabolism! All of these catch phrases look good - they're snazzy, promising, and instantly make you dream of that new, better you - in just 12 days! Oh, I suffered through those twelve days. I think my favorite hook are the 'real life examples' in the book whom I have come to believe were just a figment of the author's schizophrenic delusions, because they can't be real. "If it worked for them.. ." Ha! In reality, Mary Jones from Jersey was probably a bit of indigestion. ("Sarah followed this plan exactly and lost 86 lbs!! While Mary did not and got constipated and run over by a bus. Tell 5 of your friends in 3 days or you will be eaten by a bologna sandwich.") While I did not mystically lose weight, I did at least gain a little perspective. It is amazing what we as a culture will accept just because we so ardently want to believe it is true. I like to think I'm somewhat intelligent - I stay away from pyramid schemes and the like. But my lazy, I-want-the-easy-way-out mentality completely bypasses reason and will accept any shred of evidence to confirm a secret wish I hope is true. Such as drastic, quick weight loss. And Pegasus. I'd like to think that Pegasus is real too - he's just hiding out in the Alps, right?

Even though I know that there really is no way to lose weight than to eat right and exercise. There just isn't. There is no imaginary ray that zaps fat. No diet that somehow causes your fat to evaporate out of your body while you sleep. No love handle migration pill (Damn it). You have to put in the time, effort, and willpower to make it happen. Like most things worth doing, you have to do it the hard way. People have been saying that cliché for years - of course, I am apparently someone who refuses knowledge gained by others and insists on experiencing it through my own failings. If I were mankind, we would still be in the Stone Age. Unfortunately, I'm apparently not alone. The dieting/weight loss industry must be billions of dollars annually. So many people, just like me, who don’t have the personality stamina to actually sit up and change our lifestyles, and we all want the magic solution to be real so badly, we waste our time and money trying to be the person on the screen whose results 'are not normal'. If even one of these things actually worked, then wouldn't all the others go out of business as everyone invested in the one that had results? I wear my blinders well.

On the positive side, I have learned a few things. For one, I had no idea that I derived so much of my happiness from food. It was my consolation, reward, and boredom alleviator. When people asked me what I wanted to do, I came to realize that I would usually involve food somwhere in my statement. Or that I would run errands with foods I normally couldn't get to in mind as a pit stop. (Taking David to the airport? Why not stop off at that breakfast place on the way back… oh wait. I can't bc they don't exclusively serve broccoli.) It is kind of hard putting food back in the place of just sustenance.

I also discovered that I actually do have willpower. I know that sounds dumb, but for me it is like a world of opportunities opened up. I can say 'no' and my head won't explode. My world won't come to an end. I DO have the strength to stick by my convictions. It isn't just a given that I'll cave at some point, or come up with a good reason why I shouldn't follow-through. It is one of my more serious personality flaws, and even a little victory gives me enough confidence to take it further. It's a new world.

So all in all, the diet didn't do much. It might have speeded up my metabolism a little bit - I have to eat more now to not have hunger pains. Mainly, I learned how to eat healthier. It's not all about caloric intake. And I like cauliflower! I actually enjoy it as a snack. Daikon, not so much. Or anchovies. gack. So just get out there and get some exersize. And say no to fried stuff. The only real way to make a difference is to actually work for it. How you feel about yourself is reward enough.

Of course, when it was all over the next day, I went to Outback Steakhouse and split an order of cheese fries the size of my head with David.

It was glorious.

Nature Stresses Me Out

The animal kingdom never fails to astound me, although I must admit I usually don't watch documentaries, because invariably something small and cute will get eaten and die, trampled and die, starved and die, or lost and then eaten/starved and die.

And then I will be depressed the rest of the evening.

But I figured I was safe with a short YouTube clip, which is where I found this display of nature's oddities. I had this playing while working on the computer, and when I looked up mid-movie, I thought for sure they were all going to die (naturally).



Dive-Bomb Duckies. Who can fathom the complexities of nature.