Posts Tagged ‘drama’

Think Pink

I came home from the weekend away with a very random case of pinkeye.

(My eyes water every time I look at that picture. Anyone else?)


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Oh, January. The Monday of months. I only have a handful of photos to remind me of what we did, so I just went through my email inbox to see what I could come up with. And as Mondays go, January was a doozy:

  • John’s debit card was cloned. Crafty thieves here — they can alter an ATM card slot so that it becomes a card reader and heists your numbers. Then it’s a quick frenzy to use the numbers as many times as possible before the victim catches on. Luckily, we caught on pretty quickly — and our bank (who normally sucks) refunded all of our money within about 3 days.
  • My Dad (who is turning 80 in October!) fell in the their kitchen and broke his hip. He went through a grueling 10-week recovery in hospital and rehab, but was back in the condo by early April! It’s definitely slowed him down a bit, but he’s as feisty and stubborn as ever, so getting along okay.
  • I had my first root canal. Really not as bad as everyone makes it out to be. I mean, they RIP OUT THE NERVE, so once that bit’s over with you don’t feel a thing!

So, yeah, the Monday of months.

On a bright note, we did treat ourselves to an amazing one-night getaway to Oribi Gorge since we hadn’t done anything elaborate over the holidays. Having a rough month? I can absolutely recommend a night at The Gorge Spa to take your mind off of it!

A room with a view, at Oribi Gorge. (And NO, we didn’t do the gorge swing!)

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The big news around town these days is that a giant tanker ship ran aground last week during a storm. It’s right on the beach in a beautiful residential neighborhood, and the residents are (rightly) pretty concerned about their new neighbor.

We took a drive about 15 minutes up the coast to check it out, and I have to say it was fairly imposing. Can’t imagine owning a gorgeous beachfront property and having this ugly hulk (it was en route to India to be scrapped) popping up in my front yard.

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Let Her Eat Cake

Finally, an answer to the question of how much a pug can eat when given access to a (more or less) limitless supply of food: exactly 1/3 of a 3-layer birthday cake.

Oh, the drama. Between the vet bill and the professional carpet cleaning (don’t ask) (seriously – you don’t want to know), this is the most expensive birthday cake EVER.

[She is fine. On antibiotics due to a horribly misguided attempt by yours truly to help her purge after the binge, but fine. If I take her into the vet one more time for having eaten something stupid, they are going to turn her over to the state.]

I was too rattled to remember to snap a photo before I started my repairwork, but she made it all the way down to the bottom layer on one side. I estimate her intake at about 1.5 sticks of butter.

All guests were thoroughly briefed on the history of the cake. Most graciously (and/or drunkenly) ate it anyway.

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Cute as a Button

It was almost 9 years ago when my good pal Lida first pointed out to me that my fine lookin’ innie had turned into an weird lookin’ outie overnight. I’ve had an umbilical hernia ever since.

Recently the ol’ button had started poking out more and more. And thanks to a bigger belly than I had 9 years ago due to all my 12 ounce curl workouts, it was even showing through my shirts. Lizzy noticed me holding my guts in with my hand every time I sneezed or coughed, so it was time to do something about it.

A trip to a new GP led me to a surgeon in the same day, who scheduled me for surgery the next day. So 48 hours and $500 US later, I hope to have a sweet new innie again under the dressing. Gotta love SA healthcare! Stay tuned for the big reveal on the 15th.

The sweet paper panties I was given to wear under my equally sweet hospital gown. Like a shower cap with leg holes. Sexy!

Rockin' the gown, pre-surgery.

All stitched up! Fingers crossed that the Goretex patch is strong enough to hold back my powerful guts.


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Wait, why did Lizzy post a picture of an empty butter dish? Because I thought that a Before picture would be more blog-appropriate than the After shots of what happens when a 10-pound pug eats a half-pound of butter. You’re welcome.

And so ends her second emergency vet trip in the month of July. Oh, did I forget to tell you that one? Yeah, a few hours before my birthday dinner — minutes before I was meant to walk out the door to hit the World Cup fan park for the amazing Netherlands-Germany game — she hopped up on the counter and helped herself to most of a pan of almonds that I had been toasting for that evening’s salad.

All of the “my dog ate…” things I’ve had to google (a scorpion, 20 vitamins, poo, etc.) have always turned out to be totally benign, but searching “my dog ate almonds” returned nothing but POISON! EMERGENCY! URGENT! So we headed off to the vet.

Do you know how they induce vomiting in a dog? Do you want to? Are you sure? They squirted liquid morphine into her eyeballs. And then sent us out to the yard to walk around so that I could hold Roxy’s hair while she unloaded some almonds. 6 golf-ball sized mounds of nuts later (and some very judgmental sass from the receptionist), we were on our way.

Anyway, although eating 5% of your body weight in butter isn’t good for anyone, it turns out it’s not toxic. We only went to the vet because we were already out and one of us was hurling drawn butter in the passenger-side floorboard. They said that since she was already rolling, to just let it run its course. We’re in a nerve-wracking eye of the storm right now, where the barfing has stopped and all is quiet. I feel certain we’ve not seen the, um, ‘end’ of things. Wish me luck.

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Jazz Revival

Out with the old…

In with the new!

She’s just a rental, but isn’t she Jazzy?! (It’s a recycled photo, but we’re in yet another electric blue Honda Jazz for the time being. The car so nice, we rented it twice!)

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