Oh there they are!

In London, 2001, patiently waiting for my hair to dry sans hair dryer.

Bad haircut plus no hair dryer equals bad hair day on an England vacation.

Well, I happened upon my pictures from the England trip as I was looking for something else (Casey's tennis ball, of course). I wrote about my hair dryer tragedy here, and now I have the pictures to prove my point! You might say I am a little overly dramatic about my hair dryer needs but hey, everyone's got issues, right?

A true mentor

Back in May of 2002, I was a college journalist celebrating the end of another school year at a crawfish boil with my fellow journalism majors. Pictured here is the 2001-02 staff of our college newspaper with our advisor, and my mentor, sitting there down front. (I'm sitting in the second row, third from the right.) People in this group went on to become reporters, editors and designers. There's even a politician-in-the-making there! Our advisor recently announced his retirement after 40 years, so here's to him — I wouldn't be where I am today without his guidance and wisdom.

Sunday column: What could you live without?

I guess I hated those pictures from the England trip more than I thought. I just tore up the living room and office looking for them and all I could find is this postcard of the York Minster, the big historic church in York, where Hollie went to school for a year.

I remember reading an article years ago about ways to simplify your life. The timing of it was pretty ironic, considering that the story was published during the height of our country’s spend-and-splurge mentality.
Most folks weren’t looking for ways to pare down their lives back then like we are now. Open a magazine these days and you’re guaranteed to find at least one article — if not more — on how to do more with less.
The thrust of this particular story was to re-examine the items we fill our homes with and evaluate what we can do without.
Although I didn’t save the article, I do recall two of its suggestions for things to sacrifice: A garlic press and a hair dryer.
At the moment, I own both of these items; yet, their functions in my lives couldn’t be more opposite.
Can I imagine life without a garlic press? Absolutely. In fact, I bet if you paid me $100 I couldn’t put my hands on the garlic press without tearing up every kitchen cabinet and drawer in a wild search. A garlic press just isn’t worth the trouble, especially when you can buy pre-minced garlic at the grocery store. For the $100, though, I’d find the darn thing.
On the other hand, I wouldn’t be willing to go more than a day or two without my hair dryer. It’s been a fixture in my life for as long as I can remember, and its permanent positioning on the bathroom counter attests to its importance.
The best I can figure is that the author of this particular article was a man. Because a woman, no matter how short her hair, would never dream of suggesting that the hair dryer is a luxury item.
Hair dryers and I have a long and storied history. For years as a young girl I had it easy, because Mom or Dad would dry my hair. Then came the period when I was learning to do it myself, which lead to one particularly unfortunate incident.
I was dutifully blowing away, my head flipped over to dry my hair more evenly and to make an attempt at adding volume to my baby fine hair (it never worked). All of a sudden, it felt as if my brother had grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked. Then came the distinct smell of singed hair.
The hair dryer had literally sucked my hair into its chamber. I screamed and had to be rescued by my parents and a pair of scissors.
Thankfully, the damage was virtually undetectable since it happened to the underneath of my hair. Mentally, though, I was scarred. It was back to Mom and Dad blow-drying my hair for a while — with a brand new hair dryer.
In the years since, I’ve had hair dryers cause my house to blow a fuse (that’s what happens when you run the hair dryer, the microwave and the clothes dryer all at once in an old house), send sparks flying and be temperamental about if they would actually turn on when I pressed the button. Still, I can’t imagine life without one.
I have tried, believe it or not, to go hair dryer-free. During a trip to England I discovered I didn’t have an electrical adapter for my hair dryer, and I couldn’t manage to get my hands on a British hair dryer (believe me, I tried). So I went au natural for a few days and still cringe when I see the pictures from that trip.
Yes, my vanity about my hair is not a personality trait I’m proud of. But don’t we all have little hang-ups we can’t quite get over?
Besides, I can still simplify my life and keep my hair dryer. There are plenty of other things that once were necessities that I’ve been able to eliminate from my life. We all just have to find what works for us individually.
While the author of this particular article could live without a garlic press and a hair dryer, what would he do if I suggested forfeiting his gym membership in favor of taking a jog around the neighborhood? Or breaking out the old set of rabbit ears instead of paying for cable each month?
All of us are experimenting with how far we can cut back and how we can still enjoy the simple things in life while forgoing the lavish stuff we used to spend our time and money on.
Spring cleaning is always a good time to weed out the extraneous things that crowd our countertops and closets. And while I may comb through my house with an editor’s eye, we all know there’s one thing that will keep its spot on the bathroom counter.

Happy flowers: 2009 edition

Remember last summer's happy flowers? Allow me to introduce this year's edition: Tidal Wave Petunias in my favorite shade of fuchsia. Although I don't have the space or the energy to recreate last year's flower bed, I had to do a little something, and a nice big pot of blooming flowers always makes me happy on a hot summer day. Let's hope these babies do as well as last year's!

For Ellie

I finally finished my latest labor of love, this one for Elizabeth Ann McConathy, Ellie for short. She was born Jan. 23 and I finally met her earlier this month and got to give her (and mom Tara) her birthday gift. Since no one knew until the big day if she would be a boy or a girl, I had to go with a gender-neutral theme and fill in her name and vital information in pink once she made her appearance. Sorry the picture isn't the greatest, but believe me it looked pretty good all framed up in pink. Of all things, the text part gave me the most trouble. I must have started, pulled it all out and re-started 10 different times. Now that I've finished Ava's and Ellie's, I better get busy on the new baby's, huh?

Sunday column: Taking back the summer

Ahhh, take me back to the days when summer meant vacation:

On the beach in Pensacola in 1991, before I was concerned about skin cancer, obviously.

1993, first family vacation to Disney World!

In the mountains of Colorado with Hollie and the Biersmiths, 1996.

Mission trip to Mexico with First Presbyterian Church, 1999

Family trip to Washington, D.C., 2002

Since I officially entered “the real world” about six years ago, the summer months have not delivered the excitement and relaxation they did during my days as a student.
Back then, summer was a seemingly endless stretch of laziness and freedom, sprinkled with a few out-of-town trips. Even once I turned 16 and started working, showing up at a part-time job in a ponytail and flip-flops wasn’t exactly hard work. The best part was I worked with my friends and had plenty of spending money to waste on things like Route 44 cherry limeades from Sonic and really bad movies at the Tinseltown in West Monroe.
I traveled to Mexico for a few mission trips, went to the mountains in Colorado (where it snowed one day in June), toured the historical landmarks in Washington, D.C., partied in New Orleans and did a lot of lying around on the beach in Florida.
Even taking classes at Louisiana Tech during the summer was a breeze because everyone was more laid back, the classes whizzed by on an accelerated schedule and I still found myself with plenty of free time to leisurely sip my Route 44 cherry limeades.
But ever since that graduation day in May 2003, when I faced the wide open future of working as a professional for the first time in my life, summer has lost much of its charm.
Those of us who aren’t fortunate enough to enjoy a school schedule that allows for a three-month break know that work is the same no matter what month the calendar is on. Sure, we all have our crazy times of the year, but we’ve still got to show up at the same time every day and perform our daily grind. If we’re lucky, we get a week or two of vacation. But, I’ve always found that it takes about half the week of vacation to actually unwind and before you know it, Monday rolls around again and you’ve got to face an overflowing e-mail inbox and countless voicemail messages back at the office. What a drag.
Despite the harsh reality of summer as a full-time worker, I’ve resolved to change my attitude this year. I will try to savor the summer, rather that write it off as a time only students and teachers can enjoy. I want to take back the summer!
Nevermind that I used my precious week of vacation back in January to recover from the holiday madness. I don’t need time off to make the summer fun; I can squeeze in fun things at night and on weekends. Here are a few ideas I came up with to help myself take advantage of the hot and humid time of year that soon will be upon us.
• Get outside more often. I hate the heat as much as the next person, but the weather isn’t so bad in the evenings once the sun starts to set. Working in an office with no windows and darting from the air-conditioned car into the air-conditioned house is standard procedure for me during the summer, but I’m feeling the need for some fresh air. When I was younger, I’d spend summer days on the softball field, at the park and in the backyard “digging a hole to China” with my brother and sisters (Dad didn’t like that little project). This year, I’m going to extend my daily walks with Casey the dog, get out to Lincoln Parish Park more often and just sit in the backyard coated in Off with a tall glass of water — or a Route 44 cherry limeade.
• Watch more bad movies. Every week when Friday rolls around, my husband takes it as his cue to start asking me to go see a movie at the theater. I don’t know how this happened, but somehow I stopped going to the movie theater except on very rare occasions. Well, not anymore. In the tradition of my teenage years of cash burning a hole in my pocket and nowhere else to go, I’m going to go see more movies this summer. And I won’t let it bother me if the movie isn’t an Academy Award winner. I’m just going to enjoy the freezing air conditioning, the overpriced concessions and a little quality time with my husband.
• Take on a couple of (doable) projects. My mom was the queen of the summertime projects back when my three siblings and I were growing up. This was probably out of sheer necessity, because how else do you keep four kids occupied for three months while school is out? She’d cook up some crafty ideas and help us put our own spin on them, and it always left us with something to hold up and feel proud of at the end of the summer. I’m not going to get too ambitious and say that I’m going to sew myself a new wardrobe over the summer, but I am going to peel myself off the couch after work and try to be a little productive.
My summer 2009 experiment could prove to be a smashing success or a disastrous disappointment. Either way, though, I’ve got to at least try. I just can’t let the students have all the fun.

Catching up

In my mission to take back the summer, I am getting myself motivated to do more than work, sleep, eat, watch TV, repeat. Although as many of you know, I've had a good excuse for doing nothing more than the bare minimum for the past three months!
Lucky for you blog readers (all three of you!), I'm resolving to be a better blogger. Not that it would take much to do better than I have recently, but hey, at least I'm trying. I will catch up on some overdue Sunday columns and throw in a few pithy posts about general randomness when the mood strikes (and hopefully, it will strike more often).
Enjoy!

Sunday column: Reality check

Lucky for us, our wedding day was a moment of bliss amid the tumultuous pre-wedding and newlywed months that surrounded it.

This column was inspired by my re-reading the brilliant book What No One Tells the Bride by Marg Stark given to my by my genius friend Jessica (thanks Red!).

My best friend is getting married in the fall, and I find myself in somewhat of a strange position.
I want to be helpful but not overwhelm her with unsolicited advice. I want to keep my mouth shut and listen to her, but there are times I can’t help but comment. I want to relate my wedding experience to her without saying “At my wedding ...” 100 times in a single conversation.
It’s a fine line, I tell you, and crossing it could sting us both a little.
There are many differences between the way she and I approached our weddings. Mine was a traditional affair with all the bells and whistles. Looking back, I wouldn’t change a thing. But, seeing her nontraditional approach has opened my eyes to the variety of ways couples can plan a wedding that is special and sacred.
But beyond the minute details such as who processes in with whom, how big the guest list should be or what type of reception menu to order, there are other — more important — aspects of being engaged, getting married and being a newlywed that I want to share with her.
For example, I want her to know that she and her new husband likely will have some vicious fights in the months following the big event, and they’re not alone. I want to tell her that she will mourn the death of her single life more than she ever dreamed she would. I want to warn her that everyone will expect her to be bubbly and happy leading up to and after the wedding, but there will be times when she probably will be flooded with the exact opposite emotions, and that’s OK.
These are the things that no one tells the bride, so when they happen, we feel like something is wrong with us, our relationship or our fiance/husband.
The truth is, though, that these and lots of other feelings are normal parts of making one of the biggest changes in your life.
Committing to sharing your life with another person until death do you part is one of the most major, if not the most major, decision that most of us make in our lives. It should be considered natural that a mixed bag of emotions — not just complete joy — will come along with it. The problem is that the wedding magazines don’t write about that. The Web sites gloss right over it in favor of “50 tips on how to create the perfect bouquet.”
That bouquet will be dead in a day; your marriage, however, should be more long-lasting.
My husband and I are still considered newlyweds by most people, but in the short amount of time we’ve been married we’ve already been through some ups and downs.
I’ll admit that it took me a while to figure out a balance in our relationship after being single for many years. I still haven’t completely adopted the “we” and “our” language, and maybe I never will. Thankfully, my husband is good-natured about it, even when I refer to “my” bank account instead of “our” bank account.
Every couple needs to just give themselves time to adjust and realize that nothing is perfect and no one is perfect. The marriages you’ve witnessed so far in your life do not necessarily set an example for what your marriage will be like.
Growing up, I always saw my parents, who have been married more than 30 years, go to bed at the same time. Thus, when I got married I expected that Nick and I would do the same. It was actually hard for me to accept the fact that he is rarely ready to go to bed at the same time as me. After trying to force the issue for a while and feeling like a complete failure, I finally just accepted the fact that he was a night owl. Know what happened? Now, on the rare occasions when we do go to bed at the same time, I find myself tossing and turning for longer than normal because I’m used to having the whole bed to myself and him crawling in later.
It may seem insignificant, but these are the types of things that can really weigh on the mind of a newlywed. We want things to be “perfect,” like they show in the magazines. But, it’s time we all take a reality check and understand that each unique couple will develop the type of marriage that’s right for them, no matter what Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa or any other couple has done in the past.
After nearly two years of marriage, I’m just starting to realize this. I only hope my best friend gets it faster than I did. It will save her some heartache, that’s for sure.

Proof

See, I wasn't kidding about the blue Jell-O or the press-on nails. Although it isn't the greatest picture in the world, if you look closely you'll see them. Here are Tara, me and Erin in 1992 enjoying a snack on the floor at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Good times.

And here are our craft projects of the moment. Looks like we were working our way through the ceramics that lined the dusty shelves of Craft Corner. I don't believe any of these works of art made it home with us at the end of the week. We left them in Bunkie for Grandma and Grandpa to "admire."

Sunday column: Family (again)

The state of the economy has forced people here and across the country to do many things they otherwise never would have dreamed of.
Thought you’d never buy furniture at a thrift store or forgo one season without adding a few new wardrobe items? How about this one — moving back in with Mom and Dad? How many of us loaded up our college-bound cars years ago with every intention to never look back?
The global economic meltdown is forcing many of us to consider some possibilities and make decisions we never thought we’d have to. Returning to Mom and Dad’s house may be one of them. But, I wonder, is it really that bad?
Especially for families with children, sharing a home with your parents, or your spouse’s parents, could have a couple of perks. I know for most people it is not an ideal scenario, but these days we’re all having to “turn lemons into lemonade,” as the cliché goes.
I was fortunate enough to have a close relationship with my grandparents while they were living. Although we didn’t live in the same city, much less the same house, I still treasure the time spent with them and the memories we made.
When I met my husband, I remember feeling more than a twinge of jealousy when he told me that three of his four grandparents are still living. Mine have been gone for years, and I miss them.
After all, my mom never kept several flavors of ice cream in the freezer year-round, or let me eat blue Jell-O with my fingers out of a big bowl on the living room floor, or play endless games of Monopoly and Scrabble with me. Those are the kinds of things only grandparents would do.
I grew up with two cousins close to my age, and our tradition every summer was to spend a week together at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. They lived in a tiny town with just a Wal-Mart and a Piggly Wiggly, so we three girls were creative in the ways we entertained ourselves through the years. But, we were certainly never bored.
Grandma, a retired nurse, and Grandpa, an artist and carpenter, tolerated our antics (such as half-hour giggling fits, half-finished craft projects and many unsuccessful attempts at press-on nails) with saintly patience and humor. Would Mom and Dad have been so agreeable? No way. That’s what’s special about grandparents.
I’m sure they were exhausted and relieved every year when our parents rolled into the driveway to pick us up, but that never stopped them from hosting us again the next summer.
I can only imagine how many more fond memories I would have if we’d all lived in the same city. Yet, I’m grateful for the closeness we did have, especially once I realized that not everyone’s extended family lives within driving distance.
So, maybe the kids are a little more spoiled when Grandma and Grandpa are around, but it usually doesn’t cause much harm. The closeness of family is a gift not everyone is fortunate enough to enjoy, so those of us who have it should appreciate it. Even if we unexpectedly find ourselves in close quarters.
I’ll be the first to admit that family relationships are challenging, and that’s putting it mildly. Sometimes we wonder how we’re even related to those people. But when it comes down to it, the lucky ones can always rely on family, despite our differences.
In recent months we’ve all seen how unstable things can really be. We question the reliability of our jobs, our finances and even our government. Those of us with families we can count on must truly realize how fortunate we are.
We may grow out of the phase where a little blue Jell-O and some press-on nails are all it takes to make our day. But, when the people who wanted to see us smile back then are still there for us now, that’s something to truly be happy about.

Sunday column: Safety first

When it comes to safety, let’s just say that my husband takes it very seriously.
Don’t get me wrong — I’m not complaining; being safe is important. And, it does mean a lot to me that he cares enough about me to always want to make sure I’m safe.
But, he can get carried away.
For as long as I’ve known him, Nick has had a nightly routine of making certain “checks” before he goes to bed. This consists of things like checking that the knob, deadbolt and chain are locked securely on both the front and back doors, checking that the oven and all burners on the stove are off, checking to ensure windows are closed and locked, that kind of thing.
These are all important safety measures no matter where you live or how many valuables your home contains.
And now, in light of the several tragic house fires that recently have happened in our area, Nick has added another check to his nightly routine.
Every night, and it’s usually pretty late because he is a night owl, my husband feels compelled to push the “test” button on our smoke detector. He wants to make sure it still works, he says. I was OK with this the first time, since we hadn’t checked the functionality of our smoke detector. It was a logical thing to do.
But, to check it every night? I don’t find that quite as logical. That sucker is loud, and it can be heard from outside the house. And no matter how much I beg, Nick refuses to not check it. It’s become a compulsion for him.
I can only imagine what our neighbors must think. Please accept this as an apology for my husband, who suffers from a slight case of safety OCD.
I wouldn’t be surprised if his next course of action is to draw out a fire evacuation plan for the two of us. While these are important and necessary for families, when there are two adults living in a small house, evacuation pretty much boils down to “Get out however you can.”
On the road, Nick’s safety mechanisms are just as active. He never, ever speeds and always volunteers to be the designated driver.
Anytime I go somewhere without him, he checks to make sure my cell phone is fully charged and accessible in case I need to call him. And before I walk out the door, it’s always, “I love you. Be safe.”
As amusing as it sometimes is, though, I find Nick’s overactive safety awareness reassuring. Maybe it’s because as a child, I had my own fears of what could happen once the sun went down.
For whatever reason, I went through a period during my childhood in which I was terrified to go to bed at night. I’d lie awake in my bed with my overactive imagination running wild about all the things that could happen during the night. I had one particular fear that the bathroom faucets would be left running all night and the upstairs of our house — where my bedroom was — would flood. Rational? Of course not. But it was a very real fear to me at that time. It was so real that I’d get up periodically to make sure the faucets were tightly turned off.
I’m the one who forced my family to have fire drills and develop a fire evacuation plan. I even begged my parents for a little rope ladder to put in my upstairs room so I could climb out in case of emergency.
Eventually, I suppose I outgrew my irrational nighttime fears. Or at least, I learned to suppress them to the point that I could sleep at night. Living alone for many years, a few times in big cities, really tested my ability to keep my imagination in check. Because, if you let yourself, you can dream up all kinds of scary things that can happen while you’re alone at night. Especially if you’re a young single girl working the night shift at a newspaper.
So maybe it was kismet that I would fall in love with and marry a man with an eye for safety. At least if I know he’s worrying about all those scary things, then I can put my mind at ease.

It was destiny

The other day in the newsroom, we were talking about how journalism is "in the blood" of many of us. When we started talking, I recalled how, after a bout of wanting to be a ballet dancer, I always wanted to be a writer when I grew up. For as far back as I can remember. But as for newspaper work, I couldn't remember specifically wanting to do that.
Then, it hit me. When I was little, definitely in elementary school but I have no idea what age I was, I actually made my own newspaper. I was over at a neighbor's house, and we sat one afternoon drawing out newspaper pages and stapling them together. We probably made eight-10 copies of our newspaper, and then we walked down the street putting them in people's mailboxes.
Thinking back on it, I can just imagine how hilarious it must have been for those people to find a little kid's handmade newspaper stuffed in their mailbox.
Once we told our parents what we'd done — we were so proud — someone, I can't recall who, told us it was illegal to put things in people's mailboxes. I started to panic. Would the mail police find me?
What a funny memory, and one I hadn't remembered for years until we had that conversation at work. Turns out I wasn't the only one who "played newspaper" when I was little. Our sports editor said he used to write sports stories off games he'd watch on TV. Another sports reporter said he'd keep stats for his electric football game players.
Clearly, there is passion for journalism among those of us who do it. It's just too bad that the industry can't support our passion, especially in this day and age.

The sound of home

Although this may not be the greatest photo, it shows a windchime/suncatcher that's special to me. Way back when, in my single days, I ordered a windchime just like this and it followed me from apartment to apartment, city to city for years.
One especially fond memory is when I lived on Louisa Boulevard in Lafayette in an old house that had been turned into three one-bedroom apartments. Mine was set up shotgun-style, and I loved it dearly. Plus, the rent was ridiculously cheap — $415 a month, I believe. I hung the windchime by my back door and could hear it tinkling as I washed dishes (there was no dishwasher) and looked out on the backyard, where my neighbor, a chef, had built a wagonwheel herb garden. Boy, was life simple then. Although, of course, it didn't feel that way at the time.
Anyway, after all those years, my favorite windchime had been bleached out by the sun and I left it to Carolyn after I got married and moved north. I never did find another windchime I liked as much.
Imagine my surprise a week ago when Mom surprised me with a brand new one. I hung it by the front door today, and its gentle chimes have brought back memories and made this place feel a little more like home.

Cold turkey hurts!

So two days ago, I took the advice of the Skinny Bitches and decided to give up coffee. After reading their extensive list of how bad caffeine is for you, you might, too. Since I drink two cups every morning and a cup or two in the afternoon every once in a while, I figured it would be no big deal to simply cut coffee out of my routine.
Boy, was I wrong.
I started this experiment yesterday (Sunday) and have suffered with a nagging headache ever since. This afternoon at work, I finally broke down and had a Diet Coke, which has less caffeine but which the Bitches also disapprove of.
But I was clearly in desperate need of some caffeine, because after about half a can, the headache was gone. So I was headache-free and actually productive for the final two hours of work today. Oh well, it's Monday.
Not one to be daunted, I still plan to eliminate caffeine from my diet, but I've realized I'll have to ease myself into it.
I always knew caffeine was addictive, but I guess I thought I wasn't addicted. Go figure.
So now I'm off to the store to get some half-caf to get me through the rest of the week. Baby steps, right?

Vacation recap

I've got a double case of the Sunday blues tonight, because I'm down to the final hours of my precious vacation. Reality sets in again bright and early tomorrow morning, but tonight I'm reminiscing about my wonderful week of freedom.
Because I'm so Type A, I thought I'd make a list of things I accomplished on my vacation:

1. Rest — I slept when I wanted and blobbed out on the couch when the mood struck. Resting was the No. 1 goal of my vacation, and I'm happy to say I did it!
2. Cleaning — A week off work gave me the time to do the deep cleaning that I just can't make myself do on weekends or after work. Although cleaning is never fun, at least I could do it in bits and spurts throughout the week, rather than wasting an entire weekend doing it.
3. Decorating — Never mind that we've been in the new house for three months now, I finally got around to unpacking the last few boxes (although I will admit, one box remains, but I'm OK with that) and hanging a few things on the walls. It's hard to stay motivated to unwrap knick-knacks and decorate when you move as often as we do, but it does make the place feel homier.
4. Sewing — I finished a project and started another! No photos yet, but I'll post some soon.
5. Trip to Lafayette — Although it was cut short by several factors, we did make it down south and visited family and friends. We even shopped a little! Alas, no king cake. But, my hips are thanking me. We did eat well — very well — while we were there, though.
6. Problem solved — A problem with extremely red and irritated eyes threw a little bit of a kink in my vacation bliss, but happily, by the end of my week, we'd solved the problem. Even though it means forfeiting my contacts (after more than 10 years!) and going back to glasses, I'm OK with it. It was time for me to get a "new look" anyway.

So even though vacations aren't meant for "accomplishing things," I cannot, by nature, allow myself to bum out completely unless I'm on the beach. All things considered, my vacation was a smashing success. The only bad thing is it had to end. Oh, and it wasn't on the beach. Maybe next year. But this time, a stay-at-home vacation wasn't so bad.

This is what happens when we're not at home

Yes, that's Caddy perched on my Southern Living on the kitchen table. Go figure. Nick sneaked up on her to get this picture.

In other news, I am finally taking my well-earned, precious week of vacation! It's been since August 2007 — our honeymoon — since I've had any vacation, so I'm savoring it. Too bad that my boss called me one day into my vacation :( and un-fun stuff awaits me once I get back to the office. Oh well, I'm doing my best to keep those things out of my mind.
A trip to Lafayette should do the trick! We're south-bound today and have no agenda except to visit family and friends and do whatever the heck we feel like doing. We also have a dollar or two to spend while we're there, so I'm really looking forward to it! And yes, I will eat some king cake while we're there!
Although this vacation doesn't involve a trip to the beach, sometimes just messing around at home and resting is a great way to spend a week. So, that's what I'm doing.

How to cure boredom at work

I'll admit, I walked into the first day at work in 2009 not too enthused about starting another year. Even in my business, the daily grind can get monotonous after a little while. So, how could I reignite excitement about the work I spend 40+ hours a week doing?
It occurred to me to take on a project — a yearlong one. Instead of getting depressed and discouraged by the backwoods attitudes I encounter here, I challenged myself to try to change them. After all, I have the perfect platform to educate, inspire and encourage people to do good things. I remembered the power of the pen!
And so, I've started a project that seems to have gotten off to a good start. It's all about "going green," and trying to give valuable (at least, valuable to me) newspaper space to the local people who are making an effort to become more environmentally sensitive.
This isn't a stretch for our paper, which has advocated for water conservation for years.
And you know what I've found already? It's the people with the negative attitudes who are the most vocal. There actually are people right here who are quietly participating in the green revolution. And I can't wait to shine the spotlight on them.
Hey, I think I'm getting a little excited!

The girl is back!

Our girl is enjoying her first night back at home after the nail-removal ordeal. It feels great to have her home where she belongs. She'll be on a special diet for a few days along with some antibiotics, but as soon as they brought her out to me at the vet's office I knew she was back to her old self again.
She's got quite an impressive scar on her belly and several stitches that will have to be removed, but she hasn't let me get a photo yet. Also (I found this amusing), there's a little shaved strip on her front paw where her doggie IV was.
Casey's a little restless tonight, but hopefully she'll settle down soon and everything will get back to normal around here. Well, everything except the nail-swallowing. That's really not normal.

Just call her Nails McGee

Well, Casey has outdone herself this time ...
I noticed late last week that her rear end seemed to be in pain: Her tail was tucked between her legs all the time, she groaned when she laid down, she was walking stiffly and growling if we touched her hips or back. She'd shown similar symptoms before and we'd taken her to the vet, who said it most likely was a pulled muscle.
So, I waited a few days to see if she'd get better like she did before but on Friday night, as she lay at my feet whimpering, I decided I had to take her to the vet.
Saturday morning we went to a new vet (the one we'd seen before isn't open on Saturdays) and the vet confirmed my observation: Casey was in a lot of pain. After a tip-to-tail examination, the vet gave our girl a pain shot, sent her home with some anti-inflammatory meds and told us to come back Monday so she could be x-rayed. The vet thought Casey was suffering from hip dysplasia.
After an unfortunate incident Sunday morning when I tried to give Casey her medicine (I got bit. Twice), we made it through the night and I brought her in this morning for the x-ray.
What happened next is what makes this a story worth telling:
Dr. Mounts called and said, "Well, I know what's wrong with your baby" (she's so right, Casey is my baby. Caddy is too — always has been — but I never would have guessed I would fall for a dog).
Then she said, "She swallowed a nail."
What?
Yeah, I think that would cause some pain and general grumpiness. Especially if it had been in there for a few days.
So Dr. Mounts performed emergency "foreign body removal" surgery and a few hours later she called to let me know everything had gone well.
She said the nail is about 1/2 inch long and attached to a piece of plastic. Oh yeah, and there was a rubber band in there as well.
Nick and I visited Casey after work this evening, and she was alert but definitely not herself. And who can blame her because after all, she had her tummy and her intestine both cut open and sewed back up. Ouch.
She was really pitiful looking in her big kennel at the vet's office hooked up to a "doggie IV" fluid drip. She'll have to stay there tonight and tomorrow night so they can make sure she's OK to go home.
Poor baby.
So I asked Dr. Mounts what other strange things she's removed from dogs' stomachs and here's what she said:
1. Condom
2. Tampon
3. Rocks (multiple rocks from the same dog — a daschund)
4. Towel (an entire towel)
So I guess a nail wasn't the strangest thing on her list, but shocking nonetheless. Dr. Mounts said she figured it had been in there a few days. The funny thing is Casey was still eating, drinking and pooping like normal.
By some miracle, the nail hadn't punctured her intestine, thereby making the whole ordeal much less complicated and scary.
Since all of this, I've now decided to switch vets. Vets need to be open, at least for a little while, on the weekend. Period. And, a successful nail-removal surgery will sell a dog owner on a vet any day. At least, it'll sell this dog-owner.
I wish we could've taken a few pictures of Casey with her doggie IV, because that's priceless. Although I'm sure our girl wouldn't appreciate being photographed in such a compromising position. Maybe we can swing by tomorrow and get the pics.
In the meantime, Nick and I are thanking our lucky stars she's OK and wondering how we'll get through two nights without her here with us.

Three days in

So far, 2009 hasn't been half bad. Now if only the other 362 days will follow this pattern, we can chalk it up as a good year.
Remember how I'm not making resolutions? Well, one thing that started three days ago that isn't a resolution is a lifestyle change for Nick and me: We're vegetarians. Technically, I'm a vegetarian and he's a vegetarian 90 percent of the time. He may have to indulge in a burger or, more likely for him, pasta with chicken, every once in a while at a restaurant. So far, this no-meat thing is going pretty well. I wanted to do it for health reasons, and I was shocked (and happy) when Nick said he wanted to give it a try too. I've made some delish recipes (no stinkers so far), so I think we may actually be able to stick with this. I'm sure it'll be worth it.
Besides, who wants meat when you can have this:

That's vegetarian jambalaya with coleslaw — dinner on New Year's day. Don't worry, we had our blackeye peas, too, in the form of Texas caviar. So yummy.
Thinking back on last New Year's day, I couldn't remember eating blackeyes and cabbage. Maybe that's why 2008 was a crummy year!