Monday, December 20, 2010

Well, poop.

My M-spike went up a teeny bit to 2.7. The nurse emphasized that THIS IS NOT A BIG DEAL. The rational part of my brain knows she is completely right. I've dealt with this spike for five-plus years, and I've watched it do all kinds of weird things from month to month, and I know a one-time increase of .3 IS NOT A BIG DEAL. The irrational part of my brain (which is most of my brain, I think) doesn't like it at all. Oh, well. What can I do? I guess I'll put back the slightly unbuttoned photo of Bon Jovi for starters:

By the way, I'm now on 15 mg of Revlimid to try to help my blood counts recover. So we'll see.

Friday, December 17, 2010


For a few years now, I've been hearing about The Elf on the Shelf from other mothers of small children. This December, I finally broke down and bought one. The Elf on the Shelf either strikes people as cute or creepy. I think he's kinda cute; Jay thinks the Elf is going to come to life in the night and kill us. You be the judge:

If you've never heard of The Elf on the Shelf, here's how he works: You purchase an Elf on the Shelf set, which comes with the cute/creepy elf and a storybook about him. The storybook explains that the elf watches you all day long. When you fall asleep at night, the elf flies off to the North Pole to tell Santa whether you've been naughty or nice all day. He can also relay messages to Santa about what you want for Christmas. The elf then flies back to your house, but he never ends up in the same spot as before. Every morning, he's somewhere else in your house, and you have to look for him. On Christmas Eve, he disappears, only to show up suddenly the following year on the day after Thanksgiving. (Or perhaps several days after Thanksgiving, depending on whether Mommy actually remembers that the elf is supposed to show up.)

WCK was a little bit skeptical when we first took him out of the box:

ME: He has magic powers.
WCK: This guy?
ME: Yes. He has magic powers.
WCK: This guy?
ME: Yes.

But once I read her the book, WCK was totally into the elf's powers. She even dropped him with a little scream when I got to the part about the most important Elf Rule: Never touch the elf, or his magic will wear off. I wasn't aware of this rule, so this made getting the elf into his first WCK-watching position a little bit hard. I had to sort of shove him into a corner using the edge of the book.

WCK named the elf Ralph, and we have to hunt for him every morning. Ralph has never been in the same place twice. He's turned up on top of the fridge and on top of the nativity scene. He's been trapped in the entertainment center and has been found hanging from lamps and window blinds. This morning, Ralph was in the car. Ralph is a little crazy.

We have just another week left with Ralph, and I have to admit that I'll miss the little guy. At least Jay will stop hearing elf footsteps coming for him in the middle of the night.

Friday, December 03, 2010

Cat bed

I adopted Garland 13 and a half years ago, when she was just a tiny, tiny kitten. Like any nervous new parent, I went out and bought a bunch of books on cat care before I brought her home. Every single one of these books advised me to buy a cat bed for my new kitten. The cat bed was really, really important. Every cat needed its own bed. If I did not buy a cat bed, my kitten would certainly die.

I could practically feel the ASPCA breathing down my neck as I ran to the nearest Walmart and purchased a cat bed. Then I brought Garland home. And Garland proceeded to completely ignore the cat bed for the next 13 and a half years. It was like the cat bed was shielded by a Harry Potter invisibility cloak. Garland would sleep on the human bed, the couch, the floor, a dining room chair, even the top of the refrigerator, but she would not set one paw on that cat bed.

For reasons I can't explain, however, I held on to that cat bed and kept it around the house. I never let it go, even though we moved all the time: four different apartments and a house. I think I did it mostly out of habit, and because it made an excellent storage area for all of the cat toys that she refused to play with. (The cat toys were also required by the books for kitten-death prevention.)

Then, last week, out of the blue:

Yes. She started sleeping in the cat bed. All the time.

So, I guess the moral of the story is that if something doesn't work out at first, just give it a little extra time. Like 13 and a half years.