Airing Dirty Laundry

for all the world wide web to see

He’ll have the “Balls and Claws” special, please. October 31, 2008

Filed under: meow! — airingdirtylaundry @ 9:14 am

Mike dropped Forrest off at the vet this morning to get his vaccines (since he was too sickly with ringworm to get them done last time), get neutered, and also declawed.

Yes, declawed.

That process that I’m so against, that’s so inhumane and cruel.

But I’m at my wit’s end.  He’s aggressive and getting more so each day.  Mike and I can fend him off (most of the time), but it’s taking it’s toll on our other cat, Guinness, who now sleeps with one eye open.  Forrest isn’t a mean cat, he just wants to play.  But he takes it too far and doesn’t know when to stop.  He attacks Guinness relentlessly, even sinking his teeth into her neck.  The teeth we can’t do anything about, but the claws . . .I’m finally ready to admit they have to go.

We’ve been pretty good about keeping the Soft Claws on him, but they’re not enough.  The other night he worked his way under our leather rocker/recliner and tried to claw his way out from the inside.  It’s like our chair was possessed by an alien–he’s one strong little cat.  If we would have let him keep going, he would have punched through the leather despite having the Soft Claws on.

But still, I’m feeling guilty and second-guessing our decision to have this done.  We can’t pick him up until tomorrow, so tonight (after trick-or-treat!) is going to be rough.  Without Forrest, our house will be quiet and peaceful.  Giving me even more time to wonder if we did the right thing.

Maybe I’ll spend that time playing catch-up and writing a long rambling post about my adventures over the past few weeks. . . .

 

Eye-opener October 16, 2008

Filed under: family — airingdirtylaundry @ 8:02 pm

Mike’s cousin Matt had a heart attack last night.  He’s 35, has a little boy and his wife is pregnant with their second child.

He’s doing well, although I’m sure he’s as scared as the rest of us are.  Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.

 

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day October 15, 2008

Filed under: family — airingdirtylaundry @ 1:07 pm

For those of you who don’t know, today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.  Please join in and light a candle at 7:00 PM tonight and let it burn for at least an hour.

If you’ve read my blog for any period of time or know me in “real life”, you know that I was pregnant earlier this year.  Although I like to think that I made my peace with the whole situation as well as can be expected, sometimes I can’t help but to dwell on it.  Our benefit this weekend was a bittersweet night for me.   It seems like it was so long ago, yet it was only the end of April, that I ran to the calendar and counted the weeks.  I would have been 27 weeks pregnant at the benefit.  We would have been just a few months away from bringing a child into the world on the night that we dedicated to raising money for the American Cancer Society in memory of our mothers.

So even if you think it’s hokey to have a Wave of Light in remembrance of pregnancies and children lost, at least do it for ME damn it.

 

Stunned October 14, 2008

Filed under: benefit — airingdirtylaundry @ 1:25 pm

Mike and I hosted our 7th annual Locke American Cancer Society Benefit on Saturday night and it was AMAZING!  We didn’t set our hopes very high this year–we raised $9000 last year, but that was with the help of a friend who was able to raise $3000 on our behalf.  So this year, especially with the state of the economy, we didn’t really expect to meet last year’s number let alone bypass it. 

We’re currently at almost $9500.  There are still donations coming in.  (It’s not too late if you haven’t donated and would like to.)  I am stunned.  And can’t stop smiling.

Thank you so much to everyone who contributed!  Details and pictures coming soon!

 

This is SO difficult! October 10, 2008

Filed under: secrets — airingdirtylaundry @ 11:26 am

I snagged this one from I Hate Whine, and although it’s quick, it’s so hard for me to NOT explain.  Or make a snarky comment.  Please don’t think any less of me for some of my answers!

YES/NO GAME RULES ARE AS FOLLOWS:

You can only say yes or no. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone asks!

Over 18? Yes

Danced in front of your mirror naked? Yes

Ever told a lie? Yes

Been arrested? No

Kissed a picture? Yes

Fallen asleep at work/school? No

Held an actual snake? Yes

Ever run a red light? Yes

Ever drink and drive? Yes

Been suspended from school? Yes

Ever been fired from a job? No

Totaled a car/motorbike in an accident? No

Sang karaoke? Yes

Done something you told yourself you wouldn’t? Yes

Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? Yes

Ever laughed until you wet yourself? No

Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yes

Kissed in the rain? Yes

Sang in the shower? Yes

Sat on a rooftop? Yes

Thought about your past with regret? Yes

Been pushed in the pool with your clothes on? No

Shaved your head? No

Blacked out from drinking? Yes

Had a gym membership? Yes

Been in a band? No

Shot a gun? Yes

Liked someone with nobody else knowing about it? Yes

Played strip poker? Yes

Been to a strip joint? Yes

Donated Blood? Yes

Liked someone you shouldn’t? Yes

Have a tattoo? Yes

Have or had any piercings besides ears? No

Made out with a complete stranger? Yes

Caught someone cheating on you? Yes

Skinny dipped? Yes

Regret any of your ex’s? Yes

Been to a rodeo? Yes

Been to a NASCAR race? No

Been in Love? YES

 

You can’t turn your back on this one October 3, 2008

Filed under: meow! — airingdirtylaundry @ 11:12 pm

 

Forget about the VP debate, let’s talk about eyebrows

Filed under: hair,life lessons,random ramblings,secrets — airingdirtylaundry @ 1:03 pm

I remember being a pre-pubescent girl and wishing fervently to “become a woman.”  At the time, I thought that meant getting my period, and, well, that was about it. 

I read “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” for the first time in third grade at the insistence of two much-older neighbors who rode the bus with me.  We were the only 3 kids from our part of town who went to the Catholic school and due to the different start/end times of our school vs. the public school, the three of us were the only kids on the bus for a large portion of the time.  I got quite an education on that bus.

I willed myself into puberty, threw myself headlong into it, thoughtlessly leaving my childhood behind.  At age 10, I stole a pink Daisy razor from Mom and started shaving my legs.  I had seen her do it, and she was a woman, so in order to become a woman myself, I needed to shave.  So I shaved my legs.  And then my armpits.  And then, what the hell, my arms.  All without any kind of shaving cream or soap, by the way.  I must have been one big razor burn.  And then I hid the razor in my bottom dresser drawer, where I hid all of my secret stuff so that no one would find it.

In 4th grade, I begged for a bra.  I plotted and schemed for weeks–possibly even months– about how to convince her that I needed it, you know, since I didn’t have any boobage anything to put in it at the time.  I eventually came up with an indesputible rationale.  My school uniform was a white button-down shirt with a Peter Pan collar and a plaid jumper (with knee socks and saddle shoes, of course.  It’s no wonder that to this day I have absolutely zero fashion sense).  I told my mother that because my shirts were so thin and worn, the boys could see too much through them and I needed a bra.  Basically her options were to buy me new higher-quality dress shirts (“like the Lacoste shirts that the rich ALL the other girls are wearing,” I suggested), or to buy me a bra.  So off we went to JC Penney’s to get me my AAA-sized training bra. 

Years later I look back at my desire to shave and to wear a bra and wonder what the hell I was thinking.  Shaving my legs and armpits and other unmentionable regions and stuffing myself into a bra each day are almost a chore.  Did I really look forward to doing–DREAM about–this twenty-some years ago? 

The one part of my body that I’ve never had to pay much attention to–until now–was my eyebrows.  I have fair skin.  I usually call my skintone “pale”, but “fair” seems much more complimentary, so let’s go with that.  I have dyed blonde light brown hair with blonde highlights, and my eyebrows were even lighter than my *ahem* chemically-enhanced hair color.  They were thin in shape and fine in texture.  For years they were almost invisible, or at least barely noticeable.  In my world, you don’t fix what ain’t broke, so I never touched my eyebrows.  Not once.  No plucking, tweezing, waxing, shaving.  Nothing.

A few years ago, I felt that even though you couldn’t see them, maybe they needed more shape to them.  Knowing that I have extremely sensitive skin where even the smallest pimple is a huge glaring red blemish, I didn’t even consider waxing.  Instead, I opted for a small battery-powered Avon trimmer, and every few months I would zip-zip around the edges, use one of the tools to cut the remaining hair shorter, and that was it.

In March, on a whim, I asked the girl who cuts my hair (she’s 10 years younger than me, so yes, she’s still a “girl”) to do my eyebrows.  She had been cutting my hair for 6 months at the time, so I trusted her.  I warned her about my sensitive skin.  I also made it a condition of my “procedure” that she not do anything drastic–the last thing I wanted was to have to pencil my eyebrows back on until they grew in.  She did a great job, I was red for about an hour or so, and life went on.

In the time since then, my eyebrows morphed into two woolly bear caterpillars trying to meet in the middle.  If they were any indcation of how severe this winter is going to be, boy, we’re in for a doozy.  They got thicker.  And darker.  And BIGGER.  My little Avon trimmer choked on them and eventually died.  Plus, I would shake so much just looking at them that trimming was a sketchy process.  I decided to leave it to the professionals.

So last night I was getting my hair did and I asked if she’d have time to do my eyebrows.  This time I didn’t preface it with a 500-word essay on just how sensitive my skin is and how I didn’t want much taken off.   After the first rrr–iiiiippppp, I realized my error but it was too late to turn back.  Once the swelling goes down and the redness goes away, I’m sure they’ll look nice.   But so far it’s been 16 hours and I still look like a Neanderthal with my (red) forehead jutting out–minus the hair, of course.

Where did that hair come from?  Why did it wait until now to sprout?  Will my brows come back in full force again, or was that some kind of one-time hormonal aberration?  Will I have to get this done every three months?  Every six weeks?  EVERY MONTH?  Will I have to schedule my brow waxing on a Friday night, go home immediately, and stay in my house with an icepack on my forehead for 2 days until I’m not embarrassed to be out in public?  And where will hair start to sprout next?  Maybe I’ll end up looking like the Neanderthal after all.

If only I would have known 25 years ago what “womanhood” REALLY was . . . .