Putting out Fires

This one time in high school the blood bank set up a huge operation in our gym. If you were 17 years-old, and you had a permission slip, you could donate blood. Because gambling at 18 and drinking at 21 were a million years away at that point, giving blood seemed like a huge step in our rush toward adulthood. Plus all the cool kids were doing it.

I have very rare blood. I have O negative, which is the only blood type that can be given to all other blood types. I also have a very rare antibody that can be used to help premature babies. Translation: they want my blood. I used to get calls once a month from United Blood Services. For this reason, I feel like I have very little choice but to do the right thing and donate. In fact, I feel like a blood celebrity of sorts when I go to blood drives and they’re thrilled when they look me up in the computer.

My problems donating blood started in that high school gym. I’m a speed donator, so by the time I was done my girlfriend Mini was barely halfway through her bag and not having a good experience. I decided to try to comfort her by standing by her side. One moment I’m talking to her, and the next thing I know I’m waking up laying with my feet above my head in a donating bed. Things have gone downhill since then. I’ve gone from a speed donator to a terrified one. I get light-headed every time and have passed out twice more.

One time I was donating at work and they had the new girl working my arm. It was painful when she put it in! I sat there forever waiting for them to tell me I was done. The new girl came back over and MOVED THE NEEDLE IN MY ARM! Then she announced to me that oops, she’d gotten air in the line and the entire bag would have to be pitched. Then when she pulled it out, she managed to spray me and herself. Omigod.

Today there’s a blood drive at my work. There’s signs posted everywhere, and people walking around with multi-colored bandages on their arms. I feel guilty. I knew it was coming. They’d sent me an email. There’s a charge number so I don’t have to use my own time. But still…

Alright, alright, I’ll go over this afternoon and see if they have any appointments left. And please join me by clicking here to see if you can give blood this week too. I shouldn’t be the only one suffering…   :-)  Oh, and by the way, it’ll help the 60% of us who will need blood sometime in our life. 

Here’s your chance to do something kind, and get cake in return! 

Last night VH1 aired its Save the Music concert. I didn’t see it, but it got me thinking: what exactly are they saving the music for? When we turn on the popular radio stations these days, we’re bombarded by rap artists who string together words about killing and such as fast as they can to music that’s basically stolen from older artists or created on a computer. On the alternative stations we’ve got singers who benefit greatly from advances in studio editing. If you don’t believe me on that one, I suggest you catch an episode of Ashlee Simpson’s reality show. And do I even need to mention the increase in incidents of lip-synching?

VH1 and MTV have a huge amount of control over the course of popular music. I’ve heard well-known artists on shows like Howard Stern begging for a chance to have their music heard because they just didn’t have enough influence to have their music played on MTV. And these two conglomerates further exacerbate the problem by only playing music in clips during TRL and during the hours of midnight at 5am.

Now before you jump on me for being hypocritical, I’ll gladly admit to owning CDs by Eminem and Outkast because the music is often fun to listen to, but that’s not the point I’m making here. VH1 professes to have a charity which “purchases new musical instruments to restore music education programs that have been cut due to budget reductions in the past or to save programs at risk of elimination due to lack of instruments. The Foundation also conducts awareness campaigns, musical instrument drives and fundraising events.” But I ask you, what happens to the kids who do reap the benefits of this program? Do you think they’ll be playing backup for the likes of Britney and Jessica? Do you think you’ll ever hear a sax solo in the middle of an Everclear song? Do you think they’ll use music theory to write original sounding music?

So I say if VH1 really wants to ‘Save the Music’, then they need to make opportunities for people with these extraordinary talents to perform and earn a decent living. They are the reason, ultimately, for the decline of music and shame on them for pretending that they’re the ones trying to save it.

Last night my husband ate 20 Little Debbie zebra cakes in less than 5 minutes.  He got second place in the eating contest. 

Firefighters, no matter what their age, are nothing but little boys.  You would not believe the stories I’ve heard about what goes on at the stations.  Duct taping the new guys to flagpoles.  Waiting for a cold December evening and making the ‘booters’ sing Christmas carols outside, then dumping water on them from the roof followed by flour.  And the eating contests vary from Little Debbies to burgers to gallons of milk.  Ewe.

Then there’s what they do outside of work.  When you think of firefighters, you think trucks.  Isn’t that the truth.  Big trucks.  Toys, toys, toys.  Boats, trucks, quads, rock crawlers, sand rails.  You name it, Ryan probably works with someone who’s got it.  And they do all kinds of boy things together, no girls allowed.  Poker, shooting, trips, etc.  Men!  Grunt. 

But they also are the sweetest, most caring group of guys you’ll ever meet.  If I stop by the station to drop off something or to say hello to my husband on our anniversary (Happy 3^rd my love!), they are always so kind to me and genuinely interested in talking to me.  Ryan also works with a guy who found out that one of his fellow firefighters had a very sick child who was in and out of the hospital, so he gave all of his sick leave to that man without thinking. 

Being married to a firefighter is hard a lot of the time.  He misses important days, I’m home alone a lot, and most of the time when he is home he’s dead tired.  But for him to do a job he loves, with people who know how to have a little fun and who care about each other like brothers…  Well, it makes it all worth it. 

**Message to my Neighbors (you know who you are!)**

We all understand that its been raining a lot and that everyone’s having problems with weeds, but when they reach your knee its TIME TO PULL THEM. And if you don’t have time, or are unable, then pay someone.

When a holiday is over, its time to start thinking about taking down your decorations. It is April. Halloween was SIX MONTHS AGO, its time to take down the ghost from your tree. That goes for all of my neighbors with Christmas lights too, but you’ve got another month or so before I start getting irate.

Ghost-house people: I’d also like to add that it just doesn’t make sense that you’d have a set of high school lockers propped up against your almost-dead tree in the front yard. 1-800-Got-Junk.

A note about house color: purple with a teal trim is not what I consider to be classy. We have a paint sprayer. You can borrow it. In fact, I’ll lend you my husband for a day if that’s what it’ll take.

In Arizona it gets hot in our homes, especially if you have a south or west-facing house. I know, I have THREE sliding glass doors and a large window on the west side of my house. But tin-foil on every window in the front of your two story house is not the solution. It looks tacky, and pulling from my girl scouting experience in cooking hot dogs in a tin-foil lined box, I’d think you’re only making the situation worse.

For goodness sake, take PRIDE in your house. You’re all bringing down the value of the entire neighborhood.

I can’t remember a time in my life when my dad hasn’t been either in the hospital, or recovering from something. We’re used to pain and illness in my family. But its never been my mom before. Yesterday my mom had the first of 3 surgeries for 2 different conditions. She’s always been the strong one. The one who never got sick. The one who took care of everyone else whenever we got sick or had surgeries.

I know that the surgery she had was relatively minor, but it was a wake up call for me. My mom has been my most constant friend and the strongest person in my life. I never even considered before that there might be a time MUCH later than now that I won’t have her. I told Ryan last night that I just couldn’t even think about that.

Interestingly, I don’t ever remember going through the typical teenage angst with my mom. And by the time I was in college, I realized that I enjoyed spending time with her hanging out. We appreciate the same art, interesting food, interesting people… We can sit at a café and chat for hours. If I could grow up some day to be like my mom, I would. She loves her job, she’s admired by the people she manages, she always goes out of her way to make work fun for people, she always surprises me by signing up for things like Dragon Boat races on a whim, she loves to travel, she loves the outdoors, she’s incredibly organized, and she always, always thinks about others before herself.  (Just wish I looked more like my gorgeous mom!  My brother got her features..)

I’m not saying she’s perfect, no one is, but she’s pretty great. Mom, here’s wishing you a speedy recovery! Love you!

On weekend afternoons when Ryan and I find ourselves finished with housework and want to get out for a while, we go down to our local mall, buy coffees, and people watch.  But we don’t just watch; we comment.  And judge.  We’ve gotten so good at this social observation that we find ourselves doing it constantly.  I mean really, who doesn’t get a good laugh out of the lady with the hot pink belly shirt with far too much belly for the shirt?  Or the teenage couple who haven’t heard that mowaks went out in the ’80s.  Or how about the young girls are are shopping for boys more than clothes?  Admit it, you at least make fun in your head.

It occured to me the other day that eventually I am going to be the woman who gains a few sizes when my metabolism catches up, I’m going be an older person trying to dress young, I’m going to be caught picking my nose while driving some day.  See what I’m saying?  And really, would I appreciate people judging me like that?  Probably not. 

Karma will come back to bite me in the ass some day, but until then, the guy with the jeans hanging around his knees is fair game.

We have had Mika for a year this month. It was a painstaking process of going to MANY shelters and the pound to find the perfect dog. I wanted a Shepherd, Ryan wanted something big. I’d only ever been to the Humane Society before, so entering the county pound was a shock. After walking down the first isle, I was sobbing like a baby and had to run off to the bathroom for a while to cry. There’s just so many sad animals who never had a chance. And who are we to just walk past them? How could we choose just one?

At the third pound facility I was emotionally exhausted and ready to never adopt a dog again. Then Ryan and I both stopped. I was looking at a gorgeous shepherd pup, but Ryan was looking in the next cage over. There was a 5 month old rottie mix staring up at Ryan with huge eyes. It was love at first sight for both of them.

Now mind you, I’m not saying this is Ryan’s fault, I’m just saying that’s how it happened. And now we have Mika. Its been a year and she still doesn’t seem to quite fit. She’s desperate for attention and she’s very much in need of feeling like she’s in charge. She’s dominating with Karma, who is just pleased as pie to roll on her back and let Mika play however she wants. And worst of all, her growling at us while she’s eating has gotten worse. And we’ve tried everything. I’m not kidding you, we have tried every doggie psychology thing we could find and our latest efforts have caused her to be defensive at other times too. We’re looking into hiring a behaviorist. We can’t have that behavior in our house, and we won’t.

But then there’s the Mika who just loves to be pet, and wants to curl up in your lap. The pup who comes immediately and enthusiastically when she’s called. The dog who sits promptly on command when it takes Karma 15 minutes to get her butt to sink to the floor. The puppy who will come and put her head on your knee and focus her big brown eyes right on you. The tail on that dog never stops wagging and her tongue is always looking for a hand to kiss.

I don’t know what the solution is, but I know that I want her to work out in our home and we would never dream of giving her up. If you have any sure-fire solutions for me, please share.

Alright, you asked for it (or maybe you didn’t, but who cares?).  Here’s some pictures of the house. 

First we have our lovely new roof.  And notice the new blinds in the front window.  Ohhhhh….

And here’s our lovely new tile with the beatiful Miss Karma D. Bear on her b-day sharing a treat with her pal, the ever-camouflaged-in-the-shadows Mika the Terrible:

Here’s a shot of the new ‘Reading Room Formerly Known as the Jungle Room’.  Yes my friends, that is a nearly complete collection of Nancy Drew right there in the middle, and of course my most favorite wedding picture (taken by The Realtor Extraordinaire) right there too! (note the new carpet, but I SWEAR its not pink like it looks in the picture.  NO MORE PINK!)

OK, and just because you were clamoring for MORE (give us more atpanda!) pictures of the doggies: