Akachan's Operation: Treat Raid

(Picture from petazon.com)

Akachan, that silly fuzzbutt of mine shows that she's got a similar issue with a angel on one side and a devil on the other, and Sunday night the temptation was too great - so the devil won.

Like any operation, raids have to be planned. So letting the box of Greenies to stay on the floor untouched for a few days making us humans thinking that she'll leave it that way.  Well, until the time was right...


While I was at work and Josh downstairs playing Perfect World International (MMORPG we both love to play) the time couldn't be any more perfect, I guess. Josh was also talking to friends as well on Ventrilo so he was more the aptly distracted - Akachan made her move.

So up the stairs and nosing off the lid, Akachan then fussed with the opened bag in the box until she hit paydirt. Then she proceeded to nom on the nearly full box of Greenies with little to no stealth due to the thrill of success. That lack of stealth is what caused Josh to tell his friends that he'll be right back - there was some 'unusual rustling sounds' upstairs. Like any parent suspecting suspicious activity, Josh sneaked upstairs and lo and behold - saw Akachan's rump facing him with her face partially buried in the Greenie box, getting another one!

So Josh gave Akachan a smack on the rump - which caused her to drop her loot and turn around with the "Oh SNAP!" look on her face. Josh proceeded to scold her, calling her the dreaded BG - Bad Girl - and picking up the box of Greenies only to find that there was only two left. That box was only opened a few days ago so she had at least twenty Greenies that night!!

When I came home Akachan was acting like she was guilty and happy to see me - Josh told me the night's events and I shook my head. I had a small grin playing on my face and told Josh that my friend would love to hear about this for basically Akachan 'busted a Joy'. Yes, 'busted a Joy' is correct for my friend's dog was the first one I met that raided the treats - and that is an hilarious tale to tell for another time perhaps.

Loss of a hero, best friend, closest confidant...my mom.

It's hard. Sure, death is hard - but somehow knowing it's coming makes the grieving easier, behooves one to spend more time with the-soon-dearly-departed. But when death comes unexpectedly and destroys dreams of future quality time with the loved one - it's brutal.

My mom was in the hospital before her open heart surgery on 29 August and she pulled through that with complications, but her last surgery today (6 September) to get rid of fluids in the lung (usually done by a stint placed in the chest to act like a drain hole) and there was plans that she would be released tomorrow.

Before her surgery, I was lucky to have called her - grateful to my brother to suggest doing so when I called him to see if Mom was up to talking to anyone. I remember thinking after I get finished with college I'd come up to visit.

Well, during her surgery today her heart stopped. They tried to do the crash cart scene, but she was long gone on to Heaven. So when my brother called me with the news, I was shell shocked. I still am if truth be told, for it was suppose to be a simple procedure.

So she went home a day early, but different address then the hospital had on record; it was curious how both me, my husband, and my mother-in-law were thinking she was overdue for a vacation - well, it seems that was remedied by the best place to be for eternity.

I'll admit at the moment it's not enough comfort against the raw feeling of loss. I lost someone I'd try to call every night just to catch up and talk to about things in my life; sometimes it'd take a little coaching and borderline pestering to have my mom tell me about how things were with her - but it was worth it or it'd feel that conversation wasn't a true one for there was no true give and take.

My mom was a true giver, but like any giver they need to sometimes to have someone give back so they don't burn out - I realize I gave back in a small meaningful way though it seems. (I've been told I'm a good listener, but horrible talker due to mispronunciation and such.) I could tell her anything and she did the same.

When I first met her at seven years of age, I was what the case workers thought was prime loony bin material - I made no eye contact, was a boor in social behavior, and preferred my own company than to figure out the dynamics of interacting with others for it was a mystery I didn't get. Sure, some of it is autism traits (as well at the time undiagnosed ADD) and some of it was due to the nasty abuse and neglect I had endured before the State stepped in and took me and my two siblings out of my birth father's custody.

I, with my brother and sister entered that house and asked if we could stay here, if we could call her Mom. The atmosphere there was unlike anything I had seen in other foster homes - here it felt we wouldn't be treated as a means to get money and the sharp contrast between the children they had and 'us' wasn't there. I could say it's the first time I felt what love was actually.

I can't say how many times Mom would talk to me or I'd ask her something only to have her say, "Eyes on me, not over my shoulder. I'm right here in front of you." Or her explaining why what I did was tactless or rude and what would've been appropriate response was. I was bullied through out elementary and middle school, she was the one that listened to me, wiped my tears and got involved with the teachers and principal to try to correct the problem.

  

I remember Ms. Burke in middle school saying part of the problem was the 'sign' I wore made me a target for I was different. The 'sign' was vibes, I guess. I didn't think being eccentric was bad, but at the time I didn't know how dangerous it could be not to be considered 'normal'. Luckily in high school, there was enough eccentrics present so I wasn't a target - or maybe at this time in my life after a hellish time in a private school for 8th grade I learned to be more assertive and confident so I didn't come across as an easy target.

In fact in high school, the groups were there and in an alcove in the cafeteria I'd meet with other 'eccentrics' and enjoy conversations from Star Trek to Wicca and more. The only one not welcomed was my oldest brother, for he didn't hesitate to tell someone their beliefs were wrong - which killed the conversation and broke the unspoken rule we had. Me? It was common sense, I guess due to lessons from Mom, not to get on a soap box and tell someone they're wrong to think that way. My oldest brother didn't learn that or get Shakespeare's memo or Voltaire's tip either:

"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." - Shakespeare

"Think for yourselves and let others enjoy the privilege to do so too." - Voltaire

To be honest, I think Mom taught me about altruism - we volunteered as a family to help out on events, always ready to listen, give advice, and lend assistance. I saw it everyday growing up and heard about it as well when I moved out.

Mom also was the first to accept me as I am - prone to writing than speaking to communicate and tendency to have to write out my thoughts at times to identify my feelings. I tend to do homework listening to music and it was a lengthy process - for my attention would wander but eventually it got done. Proof reading my reports took a bit of time for Mom, for like my attention the topics wandered and Mom had to read over it and often with a chuckle help me order it so it would make sense.

I loved walking on Wash-Away Beach (out near Tokeland, WA) with my mom. There wasn't much conversation due to the ever roaring ocean but we enjoyed being together feeling the cold wind, wet sand, and seeing the waves come in, the landscape constantly moving it seems but at a different pace then we walked.

Going shopping in Westport, to Granny Hazel's shop was a must for their awesome homemade salt water taffy. They made their taffy right in the shop, and they also had the neatest gifts – no trip up in that area was complete until we got to go there.

Mom would drag all of us out to Carpenter's Lake for camping - not only did she really have to load up the van for we had metabolisms of fire; that poor van was also crammed pack with our clothes and toys too. (Five kids to feed at lunch was a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and a jar of jam - 5 sandwiches for one, 3 being the lowest it seemed! Not to mention a half gallon of milk too.)

The long road trips to see Uncle Harry and Aunt Cherry up in Tonasket, so far up north it's close to the Canadian border. Those roads through the mountains were scary but breathtaking, then there was the bunny chapel and the Grand Coulee Dam, and the garnet cave Uncle Harry would get permission for us to go to peek around and dig out of the mica some of the gems.

I loved camping growing up - sleeping outside was fine. Just make sure there's a tarp beneath me, another one above me, and plenty of blankets and I'd be snug as a bug in a rug. I remember one Eastern Washington trip, Mom came out the following morning nudging my feet with her foot - she didn't know if I froze or not but was relieved to find out I was fine. In fact I was reluctant to get out of my nice warm cocoon - but had to do that and the bolt to the cabin with frost on the ground for breakfast. During breakfast Mom teased Dad and my brothers who declared the night before they would be 'macho' and sleep outside to give more room for the girls - the only one who braved the night temperatures was a gal. I still chuckle over that.

I know some might want to say what nerve I had to stay home in Swamp East Missouri and not go up when Mom was having her initial surgery; I wavered on that pretty anxiously truth to be told. I called Mom before she had that surgery and she told me to stay home - no point coming up here anxious when I got classes to finish and besides, my siblings can handle what needs to be done. So I did the best I could, still being anxious and distracted due to circumstances is understandable.

However, with her being passing studying for my classes is nigh impossible with the grief. Like rain, when tears fall they clean inside and soothe the pain of loss and as the grief's initial jagged wounds are marks of a violent internal storm on a emotional landscape - they will pass in time.

I miss her, and hope to remember before dialing to call Mom; she's not at that number anymore. Dad is, true, but he wouldn't appreciate the late night call. 

Edited due to grammar mishaps that I didn't catch the other night. 

One of my favorite foods...

I'll be honest. I love rice, there are times it can top chocolate odd as it may seem with me. You can pretty much keep the rice pilaf, thanks, I prefer the sticky kind often used in Asia. I love it with some rice seasoning and Kikkomon soy sauce. Rice seasoning I use I have to get from Amazon, for I have yet to find that elusive ethnic store up in Cape Girardeau to see if they carry it - it's called Wasabi Fumi Furikake. Despite the wasabi in the name it's not hot at all. (Just to add another odd fact: High quality wasabi is not hot - the cheap stuff is.)

Akachan loves rice too and it's healthy. In fact when she had tummy problems, our vet at the times suggested a diet for a couple of days of plain white rice and skinless boneless chicken breasts cooked. Akachan thought she was living high on the hog - she was reluctant to go back to dog food.

It was tonight's curious event that left me posting about it on Facebook, but I noticed that Akachan was down to one Freezy Pup so I mentioned it to my husband; Josh had to make some more. But they take a few hours of freezing before they icy goodness can be consumed and Akachan was laying down at the bottom of the stairs whining. The whine that sounded like if a dog could break down in tears for she-can't-have-what-she-wants-now...like a spoiled six year old wanting that candy bar 'fore dinner but knows better then to throw a fit spiel.

I'll own up to the fact I was feeling bad due to her whine. She rarely whines like that, actually, and Josh was surprised that he heard it for he's usually not attuned to her talk of whine and other 'talking' sounds she makes.  Josh hears her easily when she barks though.

So I went down and made some - really easy to follow formula I use and well, it does take about 25 minutes.

Recipe calls for 1/2 cup of rice per person and a cup of water per portion. So for one cup of rice is two cups of water. (I use Botan calrose rice for best results.)

After you have the rice in the water, bring it to a boil. Then drop the heat down to medium heat and let it simmer for about 5 minutes or until the water is practically gone. Then turn the heat down to low, cover it for about ten minutes - very important at this part for steam is what does the trick. Last part is to take it off the heat, still covered, and let it sit for another ten minutes - hard to do when *hungry* and it smells soo good! Akachan usually fusses at me during this time too - she doesn't understand why the rice needs more steam time, but it does. LOL

A few pointers - I don't use long or extra long rice, just doesn't have the same results. If not using Botan you may have to wash the rice, which is basically rinsing the rice until the water is practically clear. I usually stir the rice once after bring it down from the boil, I don't stir it again until after the ten minute 'rest' time to fluff it up. A good timer is your friend here - since I usually not in the kitchen when it's simmering or steaming and Akachan doesn't keep good time at all. But Akachan will stay in the kitchen until she gets her share though.

Well, I'm finished with my bowl and I got a whine from Akachan again. It's not the one that moves me to pity her, it's her impatient tone of "are you done yet?!?" for she knows I usually can't eat all my rice...

I think Josh may be on to something about how I can differentiate on Akachan's different whines, whuffs, barks, and other sounds she makes as well as her body language as being pretty proficient in 'Dogese' to the point he often will ask me to translate. LOL

Busy lately? How'd you guess?!?

Okay, granted, it's not that bad yet - but these days definitely make me feel that sentiment often. It's probably one of the reasons why I haven't been blogging is that I've been busy. Well, I do realize that's an excuse that's been used by a lot of people often to ad nauseum let's explore, shall we?

I am if I can cross my T's and dot my I's (and not the other way around) I can be graduating from Art Institute Online in late September. Wow. It's a big milestone to wrap my head around. I think I threw my instructor a monkey wrench when he realized my biggest passion in game design is writing. I think I can do the 3D Modeling without too much of an hassle, but let's own up to it - I like writing stories and my imagination's pretty vivid, so why not pursue an angle that fits me? (It also fits me in a different way: writers tend to be the unsung heroes in game design.)

Work tends to be okay, with Thursday being my favorite day so far - Truck day! Yes, I know I'm not normal. I actually finding dating boxes, sorting them, stacking them up in a long cart to play Tetris in the freezer then the refrigerator fun. Then I work on fixing up the storage room and making sure it's 'just right' since dayshift usually has time to open boxes to nab what's needed but putting things away with the truck date on them isn't something they have time to do. Y'know they're responsible for prepping the food, most of the huge orders happen during that time, and general chaos. But it doesn't excuse them from all the side work in my opinion. Heh!

There's naturally other things, like friends, gaming (Perfect World International), and my hobbies. I enjoy beading, and oddly enough I think I'm pretty decent with it. Bead loom, peyote stitch, general designs, yup, I do that pretty well.

Drawing hasn't taken a backseat either with me finally getting a new tablet. I'm almost finished with the dragon I'm working on in Corel Painter IX. All I got to say with Corel that the same tactic applies with Photoshop - layering is your friend. Therefore when there's a 'oops' you don't erase everything - or need to tweak, tweak the corresponding layer - not the entire nine yards.

I'll try to be a little more active here. If not feel free to ready the wet noodles for flogging, 'kay? LOL

Ah, work....

Okay, I somehow manage to enjoy work. I presume I retain some semblance of sanity due to a sarcastic and dry sense of humor. The constant barrage of sounds and almost persistent state of chaos is a constant source of distraction; somehow I manage the most of the time resuming the task I was doing 'fore I was needed elsewhere for the moment.

But the rub isn't all the tasks per se; I don't mind cleaning at all. In fact I used to hate doing the dishes (all of them have to be done by hand there's no spiffy washing machine like some establishments have) but actually now grew to like it. Minus the pain in my lower back from the sink being a little low for my height, the plus is it gets me away from customers. I tend to work faster when I have them organized too, and start off with a clean sink. Seems lately the ideal state to leave the sinks (and much of the workplace for that matter) is messy as it may get and give two figs about the oncoming shift at all. (They used to be worse, but still there are days, there are days.)

Really, I'll admit that does bake my noodle at times - not only due I have to get myself acclimated to the constant ruckus to get my bearings -  I have to now look at the 'It's-near-four-o'clock-THANK-GOD' pandemonium. Which often varies in intensity, really - depends on who's working. If it's the Boss or another co-worker  - I'll just call her Sassy - the storm is extremely mild; other times I honestly believe when three o'clock hits their minds shut down on anything past four o'clock and it shows very often.

I know day shift gets crazy. I'm not talking just insanely busy, I'm talking of a headless-chicken-running-on-a-hot-plate crazy - but so often I come in and they're not busy, no customers. So why couldn't they make sure things are  stocked and sweep up the little war on the floor? I know they were rooting for the jalapenos (or was it the lettuce this time?) but come on, they're not expecting the Broom Inquisition so it's best to drop it on them unawares.

I've previously mentioned some of my co-workers, but just to make it more rounded out here's a few more:

Boss: Make no mistake, she's friendly, very approachable, and knows practically everything related to work too. She's such a character it's a hoot to work for her. Very honest and an excellent manager in my opinion for she doesn't go on power trips. Heck no, for everyone (well almost) knows better. When Boss is happy all is pretty darn well.

Sassy: Takes no nonsense and gives none. Plenty of spunk to spare, she's known to raise hell with rude/nasty customers too. I can't blame her for taking action against the incredible entitlement some customers think they have either. (One former worker said we had the rudest customers she's seen and worked several Subways.) I tend to get along with her very well since she's also well versed in snark too.

Sunny:  She's opposite of me: she's very social, bubbly, and expressive. If I wanted to know the latest on the workplace rumor mill, she'd know it.She has a lot of energy too, but sometimes it's not directed towards the task at hand very efficiently. Her attempts to get snarky with me is fun for the details will prove to be sufficient ammo for me snarking back. (Details, Sunny, details - general idea will always get screwed over if the details don't line up first.)

More to come, for I gotta get up in a few - getting herded off to bed by my dog and she has spouse support to boot.

When the heart finally catches up...

I knew this was coming. Honestly. Intellectually it's the part of the cycle of life. Every beginning has an end. Sure, that was something I can handle.

Unfortunately with me, my heart and mind do not necessarily stay synced; so I was feeling out of sorts for a few days until I learned that my grandfather-in-law passed away finally today when it really gained more emphasis. He was in hospice for a week prior only turning for the worse Friday.  If I care to be honest I was dreading the moment when he did finally kick the bucket, bite the Big One, went on home to heaven. The man lived almost 98 years, loved Grandma for 74 of them. She was the only one for him too. He was a very quiet man with a gentle way and a great sense of humor, and a disarming presence. I know it sounds strange, but I found myself being able to relax and be me; not trying to make myself acceptable to him. I got the reassurance if he thought you weren't up to par, he'd let you know.

I worked this weekend as my usual schedule. Josh had to take his mother, Patty, up to the retirement home where her parents lived for quite some time now due to me recovering from my work stint. (For me it's very stressful environment - a lot of different people, way too much background noise that I can't block out like normal people can, and so much going on at one time! But luckily for me, some co-workers and my boss makes it bearable. I usually appreciate the following day after my 'stint' to be anti-social as possible: stay in a quiet bed sleeping much of the day away. I find if I don't have a crash day I tend to drag for the rest of the week.)

So this morning - 'evening' for me - Josh finally recovered enough to tell me how his day went (the last few days have been very stressful for him too). Five minutes before they signed in, Gramps passed away. Before he took his final breath, he opened his eyes to find Grandma looking at him holding his hand saying, "I love you and it's okay for you to go now." Then he closed his eyes and breathed his last.

The love that they have and how it was displayed touched me. I was beginning to tear up, my heart finally catching up to what my mind already knew. (I don't think death stops love ever. Call me a romantic if that makes your quills any sharper for the 'realists' out there. *raspberry*) While I was beginning to cry, a song came to mind that I haven't heard for some time which broke the dam wide open for me:

Love, Me 

Sung by Collin Raye.

I read a note my Grandma wrote back in 1923
Grandpa kept it in his coat, and he showed it once to me
He said, "Boy, you might not understand, but a long, long time ago,
Grandma's daddy didn't like me none, but I love your Grandma so.

We had this crazy plan to meet and run away together
Get married in the first town we came to and live forever
But nailed to the tree where we were supposed to meet instead
I found this letter, and this is what it said :

"If you get there before I do
Don't give up on me
I'll meet you when my chores are through
I don't know how long I'll be

But I'm not gonna let you down
Darling wait and see
And between now and then
Til I see you again

I'll be loving you
Love, Me."

I read those words just hours before my Grandma passed away
In the doorway of the church where me and Grandpa stopped to pray
I know I've never seen him cry in all my fifteen years
But as he said these words to her, his eyes fill up with tears

"If you get there before I do
Don't give up on me
I'll meet you when my chores are through
I don't know how long I'll be

But I'm not gonna let you down
Darling wait and see
And between now and then
Til I see you again

I'll be loving you
Love, Me." 

So while Josh was telling me about the final arrangements and here I was crying, finally just snuggling up to him for I felt too vulnerable to sob alone. Poor hubby just hugged me until the storm passed. Emotionally I sometimes feel like a desert - pretty arid, but when it rains, it's a downpour.

I feel better now, and more like myself; somehow his passing isn't something I'm going to 'fight' since now I've accepted it: Someone that I love is no longer physically here. Will I cry again? Possible. Grief doesn't evaporate like dew on the grass in the early morning, it's a process in of itself that has its own pace. Like water, I need to go with the flow and let it out since it's a poor idea to keep emotions stagnant for they become toxic that way.

Pursuing the purse...

Don't worry, I don't think I'd ever have to go do that 'matching shoes' deal with it.

For years unending I didn't have what seems to be a must for every woman - a purse. Honestly, thought it was not that needed. Still not 100% sure it's an absolute must have, but it's nice. Hubby doesn't mind having a bag to carry around things, but for some reason I had a hang up about it.

At work I tend to one of those sillys that just can't use the pens the job provides - after all, where's the fun if everyone's writing in black or blue? So I got me some colored pens: true blue (blue pens at work tend to run the navy blue-ish color which is traditional), pink, orange, green, purple, and gray. Gray's the coolest in my opinion, it's not black but still dark! So looking up who wrote down what is so much easier - just look for splashes of color. Yes, I was fair and did buy pens to give to some co-workers but I think they took theirs home. Have yet to see someone else write in colors, but no one has yet complained - so guess being a little colorful isn't too bad. (Did I ever mention I work at Subway?)

Then there's the datebook. Got more dates to keep track of then when I work and when assignments are due; so I got a little day to day book so I can write down things and keep myself a bit more organized. Unfortunately it can't fit in my back pocket and if I don't have it on me, I don't use it. I did grow to detest the random scraps of paper with appointment information scribbled on it scattered all over my desk, so I figured I needed to get a system started of sorts. I did try Sticky notes, honest, but they are so distracting on the monitor and if the sticky lost its tackiness... I didn't want to end up with a very tacky situation I witnessed one time: a supervisor I knew had sticky for stickies - his workplace was a post-it storm with scattered clear spots.

I tend to also have stray thoughts I need to write down from time to time - or they run off again and good luck remembering what they were. Ideas, lists of things to do, appointments to make, and inventory numbers for work. I did carry paper in my wallet and a pen, but it was getting a bit ridiculous even for me. I used a little Chinese red brocade backpack with golden dragons on it, but was afraid of it becoming a causality of stains from work... One of my co-workers is notorious when it comes to working with anything relating to sauces - I'm still wondering how she manages to get sauces under the cutting board when she's working the veggie section and if she's refilling them there's no telling where sauce splash will be found. I tend to be a lot neater, so I often get the task to fill the sauce bottles.

So it dawned on me one evening, while visiting my sister-in-law after taking our niece out to eat that I may have to actually get one of those 'necessities'. I asked her if she'd want to help me look for a little purse, not a saddle bag - sorry, they're actually called satchels - and I could have knocked her over with a feather. We set up a day and time, and I regretted not having a camera to catch her expression for it was truly priceless.

When the day came, I learned how very different I was from Billie - purses she thought were cute were too frilly in my opinion. Some she liked generated the ick sensation to me - I didn't care for the texture of some. But I did find a purse, one that was better then the little pack I was using for it had more then two pockets and had inner pockets too. So I put all my pens for work, datebook, other stuff, little origami paper (yes, I like to do origami while waiting for the doctor or my order or just waiting in general), and other little niceties in it. It's not crammed full and I still carry a wallet in my jeans. My Scooby Doo wallet, of course - what, you'd think I'd let my show of whimsy be in colorful ink?