Sentimental Sunday: Christmas

My family always had a real Christmas tree when I was growing up.  Always.  We went every year the day after Thanksgiving to pick it out, always from the same Christmas tree lot.  A lot of the time we chose a tree a little too big for our living room ceiling, and the poor angel at the top was always mushed into the ceiling.  We had a nativity set that went under the tree.  It was an old, old thing, made out of cardboard, that had little pop up slots to hold the pieces.  I believe my great great grandparents bought it when they came to the U.S. from Russia.  My mom still has it, and she puts it up every year.  It's pretty beat up, and a couple of the smaller pieces (a lamb and a tree, I think) are missing because the cats would sometimes run off with them.

My favorite part of tree decorating was the tinsel.  I'm not talking about the crappy tinsel you buy now, I mean the old tinsel that was really thin and full of static, that would cling to your hands while you put it on the tree.  I loved that stuff, and I haven't found it since I was a kid.  My mom eventually banned tinsel in our house, because she was sick of picking it up everywhere--it would cling to us if we walked close to the tree, and it would stick to the cats especially.  Plus the cats liked to eat the tinsel, and occasionally throw it up on the living room floor.  So at some point in between the tinsel ban and my adulthood, that particular type of tinsel . . . disappeared, I guess.  (Does anyone else remember this, or am I the only one?)

On Christmas Eve, we always piled in the car and drove around Kingman looking at Christmas lights.  This was always the most fun, and it's something we still do--now usually in two cars and with a particularly adorable newest family member.  After the lights, we each got to open one gift.  Then we'd lie on the floor in front of the tree, in our PJ's, and my dad would read 'Twas the Night Before Christmas to us.  Then we'd set up milk and cookies for Santa, and open the door on our fireplace.  The fireplace was really more like a stove, and we insisted the door be left open so that Santa could get out.  Our living room had an open doorway (kind of an arch) and my parents always hung a bed sheet across it so we wouldn't peek in if we got up in the middle of the night.

Christmas Day we didn't have many set traditions.  Gifts, of course, and dinner, and usually visiting our grandparents.  Other than that, it was a lazy kind of family day.

To anyone reading this, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas!  Enjoy yourself!

Sentimental Sunday: Childhood Books

Since I talked about TV last week, I thought it would be appropriate to do books this week.

I loved books from a very early age, and I've always been a big reader.  That's one of the reasons I majored in English, and I know that my love of books and reading is why I want to be a writer.

Early Childhood

--Goodnight Moon.  This was my first favorite book, and I have very fond memories of both my parents reading it to me.  To me, it's a childhood staple.  I bought it for Austin before he was even born (as a baby shower gift) and the first time I met him, when he was just two days old, I insisted on reading it to him.  I didn't care that he was pretty much asleep through it, I just wanted that moment.  It was his first book and the first story he heard and since I'm his literary aunt, I wanted those to be from me.

--The Velveteen Rabbit.  This book was also a favorite of mine, and even though it's probably done some minor psychological damage (basically what Toy Story would do to kids today, I would think) I still love it.  To this day, if there's a stuffed animal alone on a shelf, I have to either buy it or at least put it with other stuffed animals so it's not lonely.

--Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes.  My great grandma gave me this book when I was little--the old school volume with the black and white checkered cover--and I loved it.

--The Berenstein Bears.  This one was later than the other three, and I remember checking them out from my school library.

Childhood

--Ghost stories.  Any kind of ghost stories.  I couldn't get enough of that kind of thing . . . which is weird because I'm actually kind of a sissy.  I had a ton of those old short story collections that they used to put out all the time.  The one I remember the most was called something like Railroad Ghosts and Highway Horrors, and it was all about . . . well, exactly what the title says.  Ghosts haunting roadsides and railroads and stuff.  It scared the crap out of me.

--Grimm's/Anderson' Fairy Tales.  I actually credit these book with being the reason I love literature.  My grandmother had both--the Grimm's was red, the Anderson's was green--and we used to read them together.  I loved hearing the original stories of the Disney movies I watched, and having read those early on, I can see their influences in modern literature, and that interests me.  After my grandma died I made sure I got those two books before anyone could accidentally donate them or something, and I still have them, all yellowed and stained and falling apart.  To me, they sort of symbolize everything I love about literature.

--Goosebumps.  Of course I loved Goosebumps.  I read these all the time, and I read them fast.  I could finish one in a day, even back then.  I think my favorite was something like the Phantom of the Auditorium--it was kind of inspired by Phantom of the Opera.  Not many of them actually scared me, but I remember that that one did, and the three of them with the ventriloquist dummies did too.  The mask ones (Night of the Living Mask?) scared me a little too.

--The Baby-sitters Club.  This was the other series I was really into.  I read them in order and when the hundredth book came out and the club disbanded I was heartbroken.  At least until they got back together at the end, but still.  I also read and loved the BSC mysteries and super editions, and the little spin off series: the California diaries and the bios.  I had a lot of BSC merchandise, too.  I stopped reading them when I got older than the characters (because they never age . . . which was incredibly irritating to me).

--Stone Words.  I don't remember much about this one but I do remember loving it.  It was a ghost story, natch.

--The Dollhouse Murders.  This was probably the stand alone book that scared me the most as a kid.  It's about a girl who goes to live with her aunt in the house her dad grew up in, and there's this dollhouse in the attic that's a replica of the house, and dolls that look like her grandparents and aunt and dad as kids.  It turns out that the grandparents were murdered and the dolls move around to re-enact it . . . it's so frickin' creepy! But also really good.  Fact: this book still scares me as an adult.  When I worked at the Kingman Hastings, I ordered it for myself one day when I was working in books.  After I got it I went home and read it in about an hour, and let me tell ya, it scared me!

--As a teenager I was really into Sweet Valley High and Sweet Valley University.  I probably read SVU more than SVH.  Last year I had the opportunity to re-read a couple of SVU books and I was amazed at how awful they were!  I couldn't stop laughing at them this time around but when I was 16 . . . damn, I loved those books!

Those are all the ones I can think of.  What did you read as a kid?

Sentimental Sunday: Childhood TV

I'm one of those people who firmly believes that TV and books for kids were a lot better when I was little than they are now.  Especially TV, because really, you kinda can't beat 90's children's/YA shows.  Not that I watched a lot of TV, and my parents definitely didn't use it as a babysitter.  I think it's fun to look back on what used to be on TV when I was younger, so here are my favorites.

Early Childhood

--Eureka's Castle.  Loved it.
--David the Gnome.  This is probably my favorite of all of them.
--The Lil' Bits.  I remember begging my Uncle J to watch this with me when he came to visit us once.
--The Snoozles.  All through elementary school, junior high, and high school, I never met anyone else who remembered this show, and got a lot of crazy looks when I brought it up.  Then senior year Jerbs and I were talking and she mentioned it, and I was so excited.  To this day she's the only other person who remembers it that I've met.  Anyone else?
--Mya the Bee.
--Maple Town.  My other favorite.  I remember watching this one with my dad, but it's another one that no one else seems to remember.
--My Little Pony.  I know very few girls my age who didn't watch My Little Pony when we were kids.  I love that it's coming back now.  Austin is fascinated by MLP, and Jerbs watches the new episode every Saturday after she gets off work.

This was before the Disney Channel was a part of basic cable, so we didn't have it.  But every now and then they'd do a "preview weekend" and we'd have Disney for a couple days.  Whenever we did, we'd watch The Gummy Bears.  Great show, and I can still sing the theme song.

I have never in my life watched an episode of Sesame Street or Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.  Those just weren't ones that we watched at our house.


Older Childhood

--Full House.  This was an absolute must see did not miss an episode show.  Every Friday evening my aunt came over to watch it with me, my mom, and my sisters, and we made an evening of it.  As a kid I wanted to be just like DJ Tanner, haha.
--Doug.  Enough said.
--Hey Arnold!
--Aaah Real Monsters.  This was Jerbs' favorite.
--Are You Afraid of the Dark?  I was obsessed with this show, because I loved ghost stories as a kid.  My sister (Jenny) and I never missed an episode.  A couple years ago I downloaded the first season and Jerbs, Corey, and I watched it.  It was so much fun!  There are still a couple of episodes of that show that creep me out when I think about them.
--RoundHouse.  Very few other people watched this and it wasn't on very long.  It was kind of a musical variety/sketch show that was kind of replaced by All That once it went off the air.
--Clarissa Explains It All.  I've been told I look like Melissa Joan Hart . . . which I don't see.
--The Secret World of Alex Mack.  My mom was the biggest fan of this show in our house.
--Space Cases.  I'm pretty sure I'm one of about 3 people who actually liked and consistently watched this show, but holy cow, I loved it.
--Double Dare & Legends of the Hidden Temple.  The staple Nick game shows, in my opinion.
--The Tomorrow People.  This one was probably closer to teenage years for me.

Sentimental Sunday: Dumb Stuff My Mom Has Said

I love my mom.  I really do.  I love her to bits and pieces and I think she's amazing.

BUT my mom is one of those people who occasionally speaks without thinking, which means that over the years she's said some things that sound pretty . . . well, dumb.  And we like to give her crap for it.  Because what kind of family wouldn't?

For the record, the teasing is always good natured, and my mom laughs at herself right along with us.  Plus, this is a trait she definitely passed on to me . . . lucky for me, huh?  I could probably write a book of all the dumb crap I've said.

But my favorite Mom ones are just enough for a blog post.
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Once, in high school, she picked me and a classmate up from marching band practice.  It was dark out and as we were driving my classmate home, my mom suddenly says, "Y'know, if it were daytime, I could see a lot better."  There was a moment of silence, and then my mom started laughing because she realized what she'd said.
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One summer my mom took my sisters and I to the mall in Laughlin to shop for school clothes.  Since it's Laughlin, the main part of the mall parking lot is lined with palm trees, and almost every parking space is under one.  Apparently my mom didn't notice when we drove in, because as we parked, she said, "Girls, remember, we parked under a palm tree."
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Once we were playing Scene It, and the game was where there were two pictures and you had to guess a movie title based on the pictures.  This particular one had a picture of the solar system, and then a traffic jam.  The answer was Space Jam, and while we were all thinking about, my mom suddenly blurted out, "PLANET TRAFFIC?"  Cuz y'know . . . planet traffic is totally a movie.  It was hilarious.
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This one is probably my favorite.  When I was 16, my parents  bought me a car.  Nothing fancy, just a 1984 Chevy Cavalier that they bought off a friend for $250.  (I LOVED that car).  Well, when we first got it, the power steering wasn't working well, and since I only had my permit, my parents were iffy about letting me drive it.  One night I convinced my mom to let me drive, and we went to Sonic, because we could get there on the back roads.  My mom drove there but said I could drive back.  After we'd ordered ice cream and were ready to leave, we switched seats.  I went to adjust the rear view mirror, and . . . it came off the windshield.  Like, just snapped off.  It was so random.  And I gasped, and my mom, who had been watching the whole thing, asked what happened.  I said, "It came off!"  When I said that, I was holding the mirror in my hand.  My mother's response?  "Are you serious?"

Sentimental Sunday: Little Fuzzies

I love animals.  And growing up, we always had pets.  We had "normal" pets like cats and dogs, but we also had hamsters, rats, mice, guinea pigs, and rabbits.  Not necessarily all at the same time, obviously, but I've owned each of those animals.

When Jerbs and I moved in together (in our dorm room) she mentioned she'd never had a little fuzzy animal, but had always wanted one.  Eventually we decided we were going to get a hamster because they were easy to smuggle into the dorm room and . . . y'know, why not?  So in the years we lived together we had a number of small animals.

Chuu
Chuu was our first hamster, and he was a panda bear.  We got him through our friend Betsy, whose panda bear hamster, Mushu, had had babies with another friend's hamster.  Betsy was trying to find a home for Chuu when his older brother Totoro started beating up on him pretty badly, so she gave us Chuu and his cage and food and some bedding for like $15.  Chuu's full name was Chuuregard, because we just thought it sounded funny.  And his full full name was Chuuregard Nathaniel Bastian Tomko Giffin Weed.  He lived with us from January of 2006 until he died in June of 2008.  He's buried in Kingman, in Jerbs' mom's rose garden (we take our pets seriously).  He was a great little hammy.  Once he escaped from his run around ball in our dorm room and we had to cut a hole in the closet floor to get him out . . . fun stuff.  That story could be a sentimental Sunday in and of itself.

Pye
Our second hamster.  She was a golden bear with grey ears, and she was incredibly fluffy.  She was bigger than Chuu and looked more like a hamster (Chuu was pointy like a rat).  She was a good hand hamster and she used to sit flat on her butt on your hand and clean her feet.  Her full name was Pye Olympia Giffin Weed.  We had her from March of 2006 until April of 2008, when she died of URI.  We actually took her to the vet and got medicine for her for it, but it didn't work.  She's buried beside Chuu.

Davidbowie
Our third hamster.  She was a dwarf hamster with a BIG attitude.  If you tried to touch her sometimes she'd act like she was boxing, and it was adorable.  When I was living with Theresa, Theresa's dog, Riley, almost ate her.  Like Davidbowie actually went in the dog's mouth.  It was horrifying.  Later when Davidbowie lived at Jerbs' parents' house in Kingman, she was in her run around ball once (and it's a small ball) and Olaf, their big dog, picked it up thinking it was a toy.  We had Davidbowie from . . . I think about May of 2006 until July or August of 2009.  She's buried next to Pye and Chuu.

Brannigan and Ratigan
Two separate animals, but they were brothers to a fault, so it feels wrong to separate them.  Brannigan and Ratigan were rats.  Brannigan was a white and gold rat, and Ratigan was dark brown.  Brannigan had a sweet tooth and liked to eat ice cream.  He was the less smart of the two of them.  Ratigan loved potato chips.  They lived in a little split level cage with a hammock in it.  They were still around when Corey and I met, and one night when he was vacuuming, he put the hose up to their cage and vacuumed their noses.  They loved it, it was too funny.  We got them in July of 2008.  Ratigan passed away first, in November of 2010 (I was in Chinle for Thanksgiving when it happened) and Brannigan died a few months later, probably in March of 2011.  They're buried together, in the same coffin, in the rose garden near the hamsters.

Sable and Allegro
Our girl rats.  Allegro was albino, and oddly enough, she passed away only a few weeks after we got her.  We still don't know why.  Sable lived much longer, but she was a very aggressive rat, so we didn't hold her much.  But Irene, Jerbs' cat, seemed to really like her, and she used to sit by her cage and they'd "talk."  It was very sweet.  We had Sable from . . . I don't know, February of 2009 until September of 2010.  When she died, we added Sable to Irene's name.  Allegro and Sable are buried next to each other at my dad's house.

Sting
Our second dwarf hamster.  We got him in October 2009.  He was a sweet little dude, and he was a really cool shade of grey.  Corey had never held a dwarf hamster until he met Sting, and he was really fascinated by him, it was funny.  Irene was fascinated by Sting and one time, she fell into his cage.  I found him hiding in my laundry, while Irene sat in his cage totally fine.  It was weird.  In January of 2011, Irene knocked over his cage while we were out and, I'm assuming, chased him to play with him.  He didn't survive it, sadly.  I believe he's also in Jerbs' mom's rose garden.

So that's it, all of our little fuzzies.  After Sting died Jerbs and I decided not to adopt any more pets together, since I was getting ready to move out with Corey and all.  I know it might be silly to some people to remember our pets the way we do, but we really did love them, and they really did make our lives better while they were around.  I won't lie, I think they're all hanging out together in animal heaven.

Sentimental Sunday: Once I Ate Cat Poop

There are few parts to this story.

And yes, it's really gross, but it's also pretty funny.

First you should know that when I was growing up we had a Dachshund named Goochie.  Well, Goochie was her nickname, her real name was Suggars.  She was an awesome little dog (she just died in December of 2009).  We also had several cats, which meant we had a litter box.  Dogs, for whatever reason, like to eat cat poop, and since Goochie was a Dachshund, she had short little legs that were good for getting into the litter box.  She used to pull pieces of cat poop out of the box and leave them laying on the floor (yuck, I know).  It was incredibly annoying and she eventually stopped but still.

Second you should know that when I was . . . I don't know, 10 or 11 I'd guess, I went through a chocolate chip phase.  (See where this is going?)  I would go to the fridge and pour a handful of them onto a napkin or into my hand (I'm not fancy) and that was that.

So one day I got a handful of chocolate chips and started to walk back to the living room from the kitchen.  Just before I passed the litter box I dropped a few chocolate chips.  And I rolled my eyes and did the ten second rule thing (again, not fancy) and just picked them back up.

Well . . .

I pop one into my mouth and as soon as I bit into it I knew it was not a chocolate chip.  It was foul.  It only took me a couple seconds to realize that I had picked up a little chunk of cat crap that the dog had drug out of the litter box and left there.

I ran to the bathroom and spit it out and I'm pretty sure I threw up too.  I brushed my teeth probably about 10 times and then tossed that tooth brush.

I don't remember for sure, but I think my childhood best friend, Tina, was there when this happened.

So there you have it.  Probably the grossest thing that's ever happened to me--definitely in the top five, at least!

Sentimental Sunday: Childhood Fears

I won't lie, I'm a bit of a sissy.  I can't watch horror movies, I slept with a night light until I moved in with Corey, and I scare easily.  So since Halloween is coming up I thought I'd write about the random stuff that scared me as a kid.
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--The movie Labyrinth.  Yes, the vaguely ridiculous '80's movie featuring David Bowie in obscenely tight pants.  Why was I scared of this movie?  Well, my first sister was born when I was about three and a half, and I hated her.  I didn't want a little sister at all.  By the time I was about five, I still didn't like her.  So my grandmother made me watch Labyrinth, because it's basically a lesson about what'll happen to you if you don't want your siblings.  It scared the crap out of me, and I stopped hating my sister.  I was terrified that if I was mean to her I'd have to fight the Goblin King and I felt like that wouldn't end well for me.  I stayed scared of this movie for a long, long time; I didn't watch it again until I was in college.  It doesn't bother me anymore but as a kid, wow.  Incidentally, when my second sister was born my first sister hated her, so my grandma used the same tactic.  But my second sister loved the movie so . . . backfire!

--Grasshoppers.  I hate grasshoppers.  To this day I'm scared of them and disgusted by them.  When I was a kid, probably like 6 or 7, I was playing in our front yard.  I remember I was wearing one of the dresses my grandma made me, and it was pale in color, I think yellow.  And all of a sudden out of nowhere, this GIGANTIC grasshopper (seriously, this thing was HUGE) jumped out of the dirt and landed on my chest.  And he was looking up at me and I was yelling, and he spit tobacco stains on my dress that never came out. I think my dad probably came to my rescue but I've hated grasshoppers since then.

--The movie E.T.  There's no good story behind this one--it just scared the crap out of me.  I haven't watched it since I was a kid and I don't intend to, because I'm still scared of it.  Something about E.T. is just terrifying in my opinion, and that scene at the end where him and the kid are both in the hospital really disturbed me.  I don't know why.  This is one of those things that one I tell people about it I get made fun of.

--Fire and snakes.  Not related to each other at all, just two things I went through random phobias of.  The fire one was from a TV movie I saw where a dad lit his kids' bed on fire.  Snakes, I'm not really sure, because we never had a snake problem at our house or anything so . . . yeah.  Who knows.

--Bad weather.  This is probably partially a result of growing up in Arizona, where we rarely have rain or hail or snow, and where we never have tornadoes or hurricanes or earthquakes or anything like that.  I remember as a kid, I loved rain, but if it got too heavy or started hailing I'd freak out.  For the most start this doesn't phase me anymore, but I'm still afraid of tornadoes, and will never live somewhere they're common.
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Those are all I can think of right now, but I'm sure there are more!

Sentimental Sunday: Mitsy, Mitsi, Mitzi, Mitzee, Mitzy . . .

Mitsy was my family's dog.  We have never agreed on how her name is spelled, and at this point it's been so long that none of us remember which one we liked most.  Hence the title.

Our Mitsy
08/09/99--10/11/12

The reason I'm writing about Mitsy today is because she passed away this past Thursday.  My mom texted me Thursday evening to let me know that Mitsy was in excruciating pain and that they were on their way to an after hours vet to have her put down.  I immediately called my mom and she put the phone to Mitsy's ear (and from what I heard, I do not doubt that she was in immense pain and that my mother was doing the right thing), and I told Mitsy how much I loved her and that I'd miss her and to be good.

And that was that.  I'm heartbroken, mostly because I couldn't be there to say goodbye or be with her when she died.  If you haven't noticed my pets mean the world to me, and I hate thinking that poor Mits was alone and in pain and unaware of what was going on when it happened.  I'd have stayed with her the whole night at the vet's if I could have.

So in her memory, I thought I'd give her a post on my blog.

We got Mitsy the day I started 9th grade.  Our dog Samantha, who we'd had since I was a kid, had died just a month or so before and we'd been talking about getting another big dog.  (Sam was a German Shepherd mix, and we also had Tripsy, who was her daughter).  What stands out to me most about the day Mitsy came home to us was that when I got home from the bus stop, my sister was at the fence, waiting for me and holding her (she was such a fat little puppy!) and there was a blue bow around her neck.  Based on the bow, I thought she was a gift for me and I got all excited, and my mom quickly assured me that she wasn't a gift, they just thought the bow was cute.  Gee, thanks.

Mitsy was an Australian shepherd mix, and she was mostly black with white markings.  Her paws were all white to varying degrees, so we wanted to name her something like Socks or Boots.  We named her Mittens, or Mitsy for short.

She was not the brightest dog, and she liked to escape from the yard frequently; I remember my parents bailing her out of the dog pound a couple times.  She would eat anything, and whenever she managed to sneak past us and into the house, she'd beeline for the couch and then roll around on it like a crazy thing.  It was hilarious.  She wasn't a really playful dog but there was this one squeaky bone toy that was weird looking--it was textured and looked like stone--that drove her insane.  She loved that thing.  She hated cigarettes and would do this funny little dance thing on them and snarl at them.

We still lived on LeRoy when we got her.  After my parents' divorce she went with my mom, first to the house on Kenneth, then to the one on Pasadena, and finally to where my mom currently lives.  When the moving started, Tripsy initially went to live with my aunt, and I think Mitsy was lonely.  Tripsy died when I was still in college, and I think Mitsy really missed her.  But she'd play with Goochie and Autumn when they went outside, and even Benji didn't mind Mitsy.

Mitsy had two litters of puppies in her lifetime (I think).  The last one (or the only one) was born at my mom's house on Pasadena, right around the time I got Benji back in 2007.  There were 4 little ones.  Three of them are with other families and, I hope, happy and healthy.

But one of those little puppies was adopted by Jerbs and her parents.  The puppy that they took is the spitting image of Mitsy; his name is Olaf.  I am so glad the Weeds took him, because they love him so much, and he gets treated like a little doggy prince at their house.  He's much bigger than Mitsy was, mostly height wise, but he does the Mitsy dance just like she used to.  He is the most energetic, over friendly dog I have ever met, and I love him.  I play with him whenever I visit Jerbs' mom and dad, and I'm happy that Mitsy is living on in him.  Oh, and he weighs more than Jerbs, which is just a fun fact.

This is Olaf, back when he first went to live with the Weeds and he was a baby.
He's a huge, grown up dog now, but I don't have any current pics.

So rest in peace, Mitsy.  I'm glad you got to live a long life with my family, and I think we gave you a good life and that you were a happy dog.  I don't doubt that you're in doggy heaven now, hopefully getting to play with Tripsy and Goochie and rolling around on a big comfy couch.

Sentimental Sunday: Sleeping Pills + (Almost)Nudity + Power Outage = Bad

This happened when I was in college.

It was the fall of 2005 and Jerbs and I were living in Wilson Hall.  It was the very beginning of September and Jerbs had left to spend the weekend in Kingman with her family.  I didn't have a game or any social obligations that weekend, and I had the dorm to myself, so my plan was to SLEEP.

Friday night after I ate dinner, I put on my PJ's and took two Tylenol PM's--which was kind of a treat for me back then.  I only took sleeping pills on nights I was exhausted and could sleep in the next day as kind of a catch up thing.  Then I vegged out in front of the TV and once I was ready to sleep, I stripped down to just my panties and climbed into bed.  At this point in my life I couldn't sleep in total darkness so I left the TV on, muted, for a little light.

So I fell asleep, and about 5 hours later, I woke up to complete darkness.  The room was pitch black and the streetlights near the window were also out--it was dark.  The power was out.  I had no idea how long it had been out, because I don't know if it was the sudden darkness that woke me, or if a noise woke me after the power went out.

I'd been dreaming about my old house in Kingman, and it had been a very vivid dream, so when I woke up, I thought I was in my old house--in my old living room, particularly.  And in my drugged/sleepy mind, I thought, I need to get outside and then I'll be fine.  (Dream logic, I guess).  So I start stumbling across the dorm room half asleep.  At one point I slammed into my closet, and I thought to myself, that's not something that's in the living room.  But I kept going and got to the door.  The door had a lever lock under the handle, and as I unlocked it, I remember thinking that that wasn't how our front door unlocked.  But again, I kept going, and got the door open, and walked out into the hallway.

I was confused for about 20 seconds and then the power came back on.  And once the lights came on I finished waking up and realized I was in the dorm, and I kind of stood there dazed.

And then I looked down and realized that I was almost naked, just standing in the hallway.

Thank goodness no one else was out of their rooms at that moment--it would have been mortifying.  But since it wasn't it's just one of my favorite stories from when I was in college.

Jenny told her parents about it and that year for Christmas they got me a nightlight that turned into a flashlight when you unplugged it . . . just in case.

Sentimental Sunday: Benji

Benji is a purebred Maltese and I love him.

I got Benji by accident.  A friend of my sister's found him at the dog pound in Kingman, where he was literally the next dog who was going to be put down.  She thought he was cute so she adopted him and ended up not liking him.  She pawned him off on my sister, who didn't really like him either, plus he didn't get along with her other dog.  One day my sister went to a barbecue at her friend's house (just down the road from my mom's house) and she took both Benji and her other dog.  Well, during the party Benji disappeared, and my sister figured he just ran off.

A few nights later, Benji walked out of my sister's friend's bedroom closet.  Apparently he'd gotten scared of her dogs (she had 3 dachshunds) and had hidden in her closet for like two days without making a sound.  (He really is the most pathetic little creature).  It was the summer of 2007 and I was home from Flagstaff and staying with my mom, so after my sister heard from her friend, my sister called me and asked me if I could go pick up Benji since I was closer.  So I drove over and picked him up.  He was just this tiny little thing and next to the dachshunds he looked really sad, but he barked with them when I came in.  I scooped him up and he cuddled right into me.  I took him back to my mom's house and he slept on my pillow.

My sister really didn't want him back.  She asked me to keep him for a few days, and then for the rest of the summer, and then . . . well, at some point it became clear that I would not be giving Benji back to her.  And that was fine by me because he was definitely my dog.  I got him on 07-07-07--my dad's birthday.

He attached to me very quickly.  For the first few weeks I had him he didn't let me out of his sight; he sat right next to me wherever I was and followed me wherever I went.  I gave him a bath and cleaned off his eys (he gets AWFUL tear staining).  Benji only weighed 3.5 pounds when I got him, because his previous owners starved him.  He hated (and still hates) loud noises because they also abused him.  He doesn't like big dogs unless they're girls, and even then it's iffy; we think that his old owners must have had big dogs who weren't very nice to him.

I went back to Flag for my last semester of college and moved into my studio apartment--it was the first time I'd lived alone, plus it was when the bipolar symptoms really started, and if I hadn't had Benji I'd have gone crazy.  He would dance when I got home from school every day, it was so cute!  At night, I'd say, "Time for bed!" and he'd run and jump into the bed.  He always slept by my knees, and when Jerbs moved in, he'd sleep between us.  He'd always sit next to me on the couch and once he got his head stuck in a Sonic fry container.  He used to take himself to the bathroom.  I'd open the front door, tell him to go potty, and he'd run down the stairs, pee, and run back up.  It was so awesome.  He used to go everywhere with me and he'd jump into the car by himself.  I'd just open the driver side door and he'd jump in and climb over to the passenger seat.  He'd get so excited when I asked him if he wanted to go for a ride or I told him it was time to go get Jenny at work.  He knew which car was ours and for a while after the Honda was totaled, there was one that looked like it in the parking lot of our complex, and he'd always go over to it when we took him outside . . . it was sad.

He's not really housebroken anymore.  His hips are too bad for him to jump up on anything now and it's kinda sad.  The most I've ever gotten him to weigh is 6.5 pounds.  His hair doesn't grow correctly because he spent so much time malnourished, so he's always puppy cut and gets tangles easily.  He walks around the apartment but we don't go on walks anymore because he's just getting old.  I think he's about 8 now.  We think he's totally blind in one eye and mostly blind in the other and he seems to be getting hard of hearing.  His teeth are completely rotted (they were when I got him though) and he's very bony to touch.  He smells horrible no matter how many baths I give him.

But I absolutely love him and I pray that he has a good amount of time left because I don't know what I'll do when he dies.  He is my little buddy and in the five years I've had him he's made me smile a lot.  I think he was supposed to be my dog.  He's not playful or active but I don't care--if he wants to sleep 20 hours a day he can.  I just want him to be happy and comfortable because I think he spent a lot of time suffering before I had him so he deserves it.

Sentimental Sunday: The Time My Dad Pretended to Work at WalMart

One day, back in 2009, I was at work.  This was when I worked at the clinic, and I was in the middle of a 12 hour shift, and I was very busy.

The phone rang, and I answered it.  It was my mom, and of course my heart rate immediately speeds up because I think, if my mom is calling me at work something must be wrong.  But she doesn't tell me that anyone's in the hospital or jail or anything like that, instead . . .

She says, "Does your dad work at WalMart now?"  (At this time my dad was working at SouthWire--the place he worked for more than 20 years before the closed in 2010).

I was like . . . what?

And she proceeds to tell me this whole story about how she was coming out of WalMart and ran into my dad in the parking lot and she was surprised to see him, because he hates WalMart and avoids it.  So she asked him what he was doing there and he told her that he'd quit his job and was now working at WalMart as a cart collector.

She asked him what they were paying him, and he said minimum wage.  She asked him why he wasn't wearing a WalMart vest, and he told her they were ordering him one and that since he was new he didn't have to yet.

And then, she said, he started collecting carts while she watched.  He actually collected about 10 of them before my mom left.

And yes, it was just a joke, because my mom's gullible and my dad likes to mess with her.

That's my dad.

I think he's pretty awesome.

Sentimental Sunday: Austin

The other day I was thinking of all these stories I wanted to post in my blog, and I decided to just post them on Sundays.  And call it Sentimental Sunday so . . . here goes!
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The day my little nephew was born was definitely one of the most exciting days of my life.  I admit that I wasn't thrilled when my sister found out she was pregnant but eventually, I got really excited to be an aunt.

Her due date was Halloween day, 2008, but by November 4th there was still no baby.  November 4th was election day and I was at work (for a 12 hour shift, 8--8).  I was watching election results on my computer and I was absolutely stoked that Obama was winning.  And then my mom called, and told me that my sister was at the beginning of labor, and they were heading to the hospital.

My mom called a few more times that night, letting me know how things were going, and it was progressing slowly.  By the next morning (11-5-08) there was still no baby.  I was working again from 8--2 and by 10, what I knew was that things were starting to move faster.

I was at my desk and I happened to glance at my computer and notice that it was 11:11.  So I made a wish: I wished that my nephew would be born.

At 11:40, the phone rang and it was my mom, calling to tell me that my nephew had been born!  He was born at . . .

11:11 AM.

Yep.  I wished for him and he came!!  Hearing that was one of the coolest moments of my life, and I remember thinking then, this little boy and I are going to have a special connection to each other.

And now he's almost 4 years old, and he's this walking talking thinking swimming little man who loves airplanes, helicopters, tools, books, Legos, Toy Story, Buzz Lightyear, and drums.  He's a fantastic little boy who calls me Auntica and I love him more than anything.  I miss him tons, and I am grateful to have him in my life.

Here he is through the years.  Isn't he precious?