Tag Archives: Bindu

Random Crap. (With pictures!)

Domestic Goddess, , , ,

In which I still need a vacation, but haven’t scheduled one yet. (Teh BF says he’s taking me to Wildhorse casino for his birthday next month, though, so that’ll be good.)

Since my content is so lame, I am including images. I love you too.

WEATHER
I am tired of this ten-degrees-below-average-for-this-time-of-year weather. The wind, overcast skies, and unnecessary chill are all getting on my nerves.

I want spring to get here already. Isn’t wonderfully mild weather the whole point of living here?

BENTO
Here’s my lunch. Innit adorable?

Bento #59: Quasi Middle Eastern

Making it this morning and then eating it this afternoon will doubtless prove to be the absolute highlights of the first ten hours of my day. Happy Monday.

WORK
My employer is advertising to hire another employee! I’m almost giddy with relief, actually. I had myself all convinced I was about to get laid off.

Silly brain.

THE DOG
My G’ma is feeding my dog entirely too much. AGAIN. The stuff she’s feeding Bindu not only keeps the dog on the verge of obesity, but it also gives her itchy butt, runny stools, and gas. (I realize that’s entirely TMI but food that does such things to a creature cannot be at all acceptable.)

I’ve tried being nice to G’ma, I’ve tried reason, I’ve tried being openly hostile, and I’ve tried simply keeping the dog away from the house as much as possible, all to no avail: there is no way to get the woman to stop overfeeding my dog each and every chance she gets.

Break Time

I have resolved to go buy appropriate dog foods this Sunday – boring old IAMS or Nutro kibbles (and, in a massive nod toward compromise, some canned food as well) that the dog is unlikely to gorge upon. I will bring these items home and put them in the pantry, and I will then proceed to throw the crap G’ma stocks right out into the garbage. The sheer wastefulness will, I hope, get her attention.

I’ve had this dog through scores of jobs, men, and miscarriages. Bindu is the love of my life and my baby. I will not let the length and quality of her little blue life be compromised because G’ma apparently feels compelled to spoil animals to death.

THE BELOVED NETBOOK
I watched the director’s cut of Blade Runner in bed last night. With earphones in and the Eee PC on my chest, it was a totally awesome movie-watching experience!

Size Comparison

I really love my tiny little laptoplette.

ANNOYING THINGS
* The grocery store two blocks from my house no longer accepts my debit card, so in order to shop there I have to take cash out of the ATM and pay $1.50 for the privilege. Fuck that.

* I remain unconvinced that I can crawl back to the bandleader and be civil enough to get my old gig back. I’m just too wrapped up in my ego’s utter rage at being fired for no reason (I’ve never been fired from a band in my life, and particularly not when I did everything I was supposed to do). I’m thinking of cutting my finger nails and taking my Breedlove to open mic come Wednesday.

I can’t play for shit, but they’ll let me on stage anyway because they know I can sing.

* My dog is still fat, and it’s not even my fault.

* I don’t have a bicycle and am, apparently, too stupid to get one bought.

THE NEW HOBBY
This evening, after spending some time with Teh BF, I hope to move forward on some of this:

Pattern drafting: complete

I really want to change my whole master plan and make the awesome dress out of the purple stuff (because it’s cotton instead of rayon), but I won’t. I will stick to the plan, because it will give me a chance to adjust the pattern with fabric that I don’t like as much. Then I can go out and buy moar cotton knit next weekend! Yay!

THE OLD HOBBY
I haven’t knit anything in months.

Apparently I’m as incon(si)stant with my hobbies as I am with literally everything else.

My Blue Bindu

Soapbox, , ,

In which I unstress about the relationship between my dog and my grandmother.

Bindu is fat and listless and can’t finish an entire dog walk around the perimeter of two city blocks. Her belly’s bloated. Her nose is dry and she’s tired all the time. She’s clearly not feeling well.

The week Grandma was out of town, Bindu did much better. I fed her water and Iams and nothing else, and after three days of such cruel denial she perked right up and her overall health and energy levels were much closer to normal.

This morning I told Gramma – again – that she’s got to stop over-feeding my dog. At first she said she wasn’t feeding them that much, that they aren’t getting any people food and only a whole can of wet food each day along with all the dry kibbles and Moist ‘n’ Meaty they can possibly stuff down their gullets… I explained to her that a 30-lb. animal needs about one cup of food per day, and could she please just not feed Bindu anything but dry kibbles and water? She said she can’t feed one dog and not the other because it’s not fair. I asked her to just close the hall door and leave Bindu in the back then, because otherwise she’s going to kill my dog. At that point, she more or less said that the dog ‘lives with a grandmother and is going to be spoiled, period’, and changed the subject.

I might have to find a doggy daycare just to keep my girl from having a food-induced heart attack; I don’t know how else to get the situation handled. I love that dog, but short of quitting my job and being home all the time I can’t keep her from being over-fed. I’ve asked nicely, I’ve asked intensely, and yes she’s tried to feed them less but she’s been in the habit of spoiling her dog rotten with food for a decade, and Bindu finishes everything Chipper doesn’t eat because she’s more alpha than he is and that’s just how dogs function and it has nothing to do with hunger at all: the fact that the dog is eating does not mean she’s hungry. The only way to solve this problem is to leave less food lying around, and it’s okay, Chipper won’t starve! Chipper will eat if he gets hungry enough; he’s omega, not dead.

Yesterday I ate Mexican food for lunch at the joint across the street from the office (it was raining out and the place was convenient). I had a book with me and absently finished off everything on my plate while reading. Maybe it wasn’t a lot of food by typical standards, but I’ve been paying attention to portion sizes these past couple of months and the result of such gross overeating was that I ended up with an absolutely brutal case of food coma: My stomach hurt, my heart felt labored, I was sluggish and exhausted and just so uncomfortable that I hovered on the verge of having a panic attack. I was a total retard for two hours, and it sucked.

Digestion is the single most energy-intensive function the body performs. Most heart attacks happen after a meal. Overeating can kill you.

And that’s how my dog feels all day, every day. Food coma. And she’s got a heart murmur, and she’s packing on extra weight, and I can’t get my grandmother to just lock my fucking dog out of the kitchen while she kills her own pet with kindness.

It’s not like Bindu doesn’t love her new life at Gramma’s house; she adores the rigid schedule and the big yard and the nice lady who indulges her and the little black dog who lives there too. I don’t want to keep her away from the house or anything, and I’m abjectly grateful that I have somewhere comfortable to leave her when I’m out working and playing…

The bottom line is that the woman comes from an era when they didn’t have dog food. Dogs ate table scraps and they died a lot; there weren’t any scientifically formulated bags of dog food lying around when she was a kid. Spoiling a dog is a kindness by her lights, not a cruelty. And I get that, but I want my blue dog to have a nice, long old age too.

I’m caught between Scylla and Charybdis [def] and it suX0rZ [def], but here’s some cute pet porn of my blue girl.

The Cat's Away

Blurbs,

In which I have the house to myself for a week.

My grandmother left today for a trip to Detroit with her bowling team. I get to bring in the mail, mow the lawn, feed the dogs (they’re getting dry kibbles and water and none of the other shit they’re used to), and drive her car while she’s gone.

It also means I get to go home on my lunch breaks and let the dogs out to pee. My lunch break is between 3 and 4, and I just got back.

Blue Dog in B&WBindu is dry-nosed and tired all the time. She’s still bloated and tight in the belly even though Gramma claims to have been reducing her food. She and Chipper (grandma’s dog) are between the two of them drinking well over a gallon of water per day (which is a lot when you consider that the two of them together weigh less than 60 lbs.), and there have been accidents on the rug by the front door.

Though I’ve been playing phone tag with the vet for almost two weeks and haven’t spoken with him directly, I know from one of his messages that Bindu’s got a heart murmur and reduced liver function. She’s twelve years old.

She doesn’t seem uncomfortable – she still barks like hell at the mailman every day – but she can’t walk ten blocks without nearly passing out. Simply trotting up the stairs to my bedroom makes her pant – hard. When I told Gramma that she had heart and liver troubles, Gramma replied, “Sounds like old age. She’s old.”

My dog has become not merely old, but geriatric. I don’t think she’s well, but I don’t know what the problem is and I suspect it might be more than mere age. Having never been faced with an expensive pet health situation, I don’t know what I’ll do if she needs, say, surgery, or heavy meds to survive.

It was love at first sight the day I first met Bindu all those years ago. When she dies, I swear to God I’m going to need to be sedated for a week.

Old Dog

Pets,

In which I’m waiting for the results of the blood work.

Bindu has a heart murmur for which she may or may not need meds. She does not have ear mites, but she did get her ears cleaned. She’s obese – she weighs 36.1 pounds, up from 29.8 six months ago – and has to lose weight. She received a parvo/distemper shot. She may or may not have diabetes for which she may or may not need meds.

They said they’d call me Tuesday or Wednesday.

I spent $150 at the vet today.

I also watched a movie, failed to do laundry, showered, went to band practice, and may or may not have put a scratch in my grandmother’s car with a bush or fence or something while parking (I’m not sure if the scratch was there before or not).

Over all, despite the lack of real trauma, a fairly high-stress day for me. Going to bed early.

Hurumpfh.

Seeing Mother

Music, Spiritual, , ,

In which my plans are quite suddenly changed.

Saturday night my entire band had a long practice. After, Curtis and I went out and Becca showed up. We met a wine writer from Seattle and hung out with her all night, even dragged her to after hours for a bit. I got drunk. Around three in the morning, Curtis and I finished up the curry and rice I had stashed in the fridge and he crashed in the front bedroom.

Sunday, the weather was GLORIOUS! Clear and breezy, and had to be at least seventy degrees out! We went to brunch at 26 brix (and let me tell you, the bloody mary was awesome) and then wandered aimlessly around town until Curtis had to go record with RB. We even stopped at the miniature airport and watched the enthusiasts fly their little planes around for awhile.

Monday, I did – among other tedious but necessary online things – my taxes. I’m getting a refund! (I was so poor last year that I actually qualified for EIC. Go me.) Apparently I’ll be getting $300 for my rebate, too, which is exiting because I’ll TOTALLY need it to see Amma this summer.

I was going to try to see Her in New York in July, but not only has the ticket for the dates I wanted doubled in price in the past 6 days, but it turns out that one of the other techs at work has already gotten those dates off for vacation – so there’s no way I’ll get them off, too.

Now I’m scrambling madly to get organized to see Mother in Seattle, since people are taking vacation days during all the other tour stops I’d like to go to (not only New York, but Fairfield and Chicago too). The Seattle programs are complex because there’s a day of public programs followed by a two-day retreat and then a public Devi Bhava. If I’m going at all, I either register for the retreat or I only see Mother for one day. Since it costs just about $200 to fly to Seattle I’d rather go for more than a single day… so now I need to sign up for a retreat with no on-site housing in a town where I know no Amma devotees. Gah!

(You know, I should have known this would happen. I contacted the Seattle satsang by email and am doing seva remotely – placing notices on various online boards about Mother’s visit – but of course it’s going to work out that I have to go meet the Seattle satsang properly, and probably work like crazy at the programs and the retreat too.)

In other news, Bindu’s going to the vet for blood work tomorrow. She’s gotten fat since we’ve been here (because grandmas are indulgent and feed dogs table scraps, and give them milk and lunch meat every single night before bed) and now she drinks and pees so much that I’m worried about diabetes. She’s exhibiting some other behavioral changes too, which is why I’m actually worried: she can’t walk the 12 blocks to work with me on Saturdays without a rest at the halfway point, and she seems sleepy and cuddly more than tired or overheated.

Send the good blue dog your non-diabetic thoughts, if you would, and I’ll let you know what we learn when the results come back.

Easter Weekend

Blurbs, ,

In which I roll out the stunning vista of my upcoming weekend. Booyah. (Srsly.) (The pace, it’s killing me.)

Last night RB took me to see a band. We went mainly because the band in question gets A-list blues gigs here in the northwest, and we wanted to hear what the competition sounded like. They were good enough, but not terrifically impressive. I can sing circles around the chick singer they had.

I drank four or five cocktails, got three phone numbers (a girl who could be friend material, a tattoo artist, and a guy who just amused me). Then I ate three items off of the Taco Bell menu and went to bed because apparently I’m not chubby enough yet.

This morning I brought Bindu to work with me. We had a lovely walk across town, and saw many other dogs downtown and woofed at them. Work’s been really slow today, with long breaks in between calls. (I like working on Saturday because no one bothers to turn the overhead lights on and I don’t have to fight the glare on my monitor all damn day.)

At six, Gramma’s going to pick us up because she wants to go out for dinner. I really don’t need any more food – I ate an entire bag of salad and a frozen pasta dinner and half an avocado and two bottles of Naked juice – so I might just have an appetizer.

Tomorrow we’re going out for Easter brunch with the family. I think we’ll be eating at the Eagles or VFW or something. Luckily, it’s not until noon so I don’t have to roust out of bed too early. Tomorrow afternoon I intend to do laundry and clean the bathroom. Monday afternoon I’ll be at band practice. (We’ve actually got gigs lined up. We’re playing the Balloon Stampede in May!)

So, yeah. That’s my stunning life. I’m sorry you wasted moments of yours reading this post. *smooch*

It's Saturday, Damn It.

Work, ,

In which I bitch and moan.

It’s Saturday, and I’m at work.

I’m cold. I’m tired. And I’ve already been on the phone for an hour and I’m usually not even out of bed by ten.

My beloved dog made sad eyes at me when I left the house this morning.

Oh, and I feel crappy on top of it. Wanna be in bed with a warm dog and a good book.