11 is a Friday cats!

 . . . but the two cats here are shy. 

Well, one of them is. 

The other just won’t sit long enough for a portrait.

So, if you came looking for cats.

Not this week.

Updated @ 5:21

A 2fur . . .

Friday cat

 

Heh!

I've heard this about Grizzly Bears, too.

it's on Saturday this month

Wherin we find another guest post

MNBF writes:

Time is a relative thing. When speaking of a newborn, life is measured in days, then weeks, and finally in months.  Age is counted in months through the first 24 before years start counting.
A week to a two month old constitutes a hefty chunk of their life. A week to a normal adult is a drop in the bucket. And as we get older weeks seem to fly by.
How did we get to 2017? What happened to 2016? It's a complete blur! It wasn't that long ago that we were worried about Y2K, right? Yet, since Y2K, 3 daughters-in-law and 11 grandchildren, the youngest being 6 already, have been added to my family and too many have left us - evidence that much time has passed.
I have lived 3,137 weeks - what's one more? Well, it depends on the week. Some weeks can't go by fast enough and some are over when I want them to last much longer.
Skip and I spent the WHOLE WEEK after Christmas together. It was wonderful but went by way too fast. It has now been 6 full days since I've seen him and the time is dragging. His arrival here can't come soon enough.
Time is relative. There are a few reasons why the next 5 weeks will go WAY TOO FAST (like all the purging and packing and moving that has to be done) but there are 163 reasons why the next 5 weeks will go WAY TOO SLOW - 163 miles of highway between Skip's house and my house.
The time on the road traveling to the other's home is long with anticipation. The road back to our own home is long with anguish for the days apart. But the time together is worth every moment on the road. And each mile driven, each moment apart or together brings us that much closer to the time when the miles and days that separate us are no more.
I can't wait - but I have no choice - so I must wait. 5 weeks from now will be the beginning of more weeks, but weeks that are all spent together and that will be so worth the wait.

There being only one normal adult in this relationship, you can only imagine what it's like for yours truly [HSWHTPFIHC].

y'all know how this
blog feels about normal

Heh!

This morning a group (six if you really want to know) of Lions from the Anderson Lions Club made a visit to the breakfast meeting of the Enterprise Lions Club in Redding.
They meet at 7am.
That meant leaving the house before Sunrise.

Enough about that.
This is about the cat.
He decided to brave the cold last night.
Fortunately it didn't drop to the previous lows.
In any even, the little furhead didn't arrive home until well after I first called him.
In fact he waited until I was ready to leave.

I quickly prepared a food dish for him, at which he turned up his nose.
As I exited through the garage he was sitting, staring, as if to say, "WTF do you think you're doing?"
I just waved.

When I returned about two hours later.

more here

Like he thinks I answer to him.

BTW - he did eat the food I'd put out.

lots of scritches were had

This was missing the other day

Friday the 13th is on Saturday this month

Here

not here

Huh?

So I noticed a message when I logged in yesterday morning.

It took me here.

Well, that's the short version.
Basically it reminded me of this post by Craig, which is by no means, IMHO, in any way porn.

Anyway. . .   they Boggler were just announcing that they Blooger were reassessing their options.


NO!

. . .not hoping it would be easier to locate porn

Normal Friday

It's on Friday this time.

Note:  I don't have any new, cute Pogo graphics, so will forgo them.
(come to think of it, there probably aren't any new Pogo graphics)

It's on Thursday this month

Because I can. . .

. . .stir the pot

Guess what today is

That's right, Friday the 13th is on Monday this month.

I had to post this.
Someone had it up on F/B last Thursday and folks were freaking out.
About the only thing correct is Halloween is on Friday.

That's right.
It's Columbus Day

it IS a holiday

Because we can

Infer what you will.

...and it's a full moon, too

What happened to Monday?

Maybe that's the wrong question.

Some time, over the weekend, BP posted ...or is it reposted?
Anyway, he said I posted it "way, way back."
If he says so, I guess I did.
I was obviously relating a tale by someone else.
If it was about me, I'd surely have remembered... really I would.

The only reason this even comes to mind is because the tale he re-related is distantly connected to a current situation here.
Friday is wheelie bin day in our neighborhood.
(Unless said Friday falls in the week of a holiday.
Then Saturday becomes wheelie bin day and the trash guys only get one day off that weekend)
Every week the household garbage bin goes to the curb.
The household recycling (aluminum, glass, paper, cardboard, et al) or the yard waste (mostly grass cuttings or other agricultural stuff) is also put at the curb.
Last Friday was yard bin day.

The truck makes it's rounds early to pick of the household waste, most times passing through between 7 and 7:30am.
When the driver has completed the household waste route, he runs to the landfill and dumps the load.
The truck then returns over the same route collecting the recyclable yard waste.
That's usually sometime around 1pm, though that is only slightly relevant to this story.

When I am not doing more important things (whatever they are I couldn't tell you) I usually go out to the curb and return the bins to wherever it is most convenient to store them.
(That is subjective because there really is no place to store three ginormous bins that nobody in their right mind...
Suffice it to say I really have no place to put these bins where they are not in the way.)

I heard the truck (I always hear the truck ...it's as big as a house and makes all kinds of extra noises besides the engine sounds) in the afternoon and made my way out to bring in the green yard waste bin.
I arrived at the curb as the truck was pulling away and even waved to the driver.
I grabbed the handle of the bin as I watched the truck turn the corner at the end of the street.
I just about dislocated my shoulder.
The green bin was a lot heavier than I'd expected.
So I lifted the lid and peered inside.
It was still almost half full (or maybe a little more than half empty . . .YMMV).
The truck was gone so I couldn't signal the driver.
I wasn't about to hop in my car to chase him down, though I know some folks who would.
I mean if they were visiting my house and this happened, they would actually get in their car and pursue the yard waste recycling truck.
I decided to call the company.

Where is the phone number?
It sure isn't on their website.
But they do have a Customer Service link.
At the Customer Service link there is a Contact Us link.
It has one of those fill in the blank with your contact information and message forms.
I did just that.
I told them about my not so empty wheelie bin.
I also told them it would be a really nice service if they had a phone number on their site, too.
I would have liked to tell them more, but they limit the number of characters.
I checked the little box that asked them to contact me by phone.

That was between 1:30 and 2pm.
I received the following email not too long after.

Two hours later I replied, "How long is soon?"
The reply was returned because they don't monitor their email account.
So I went back into their message blank again.
I received an almost identical reply.
Waste Management obviously let their office staff start the 3 day weekend early.
I may, or may not, hear from them this morning.
My bin is still at the curb.
If the city inspector (or whatever the city snoop is called) makes an issue, I will definitely give him an earful.
Yes, I will watch my language and be diplomatic.
Today's his Monday.
I may not be quite so nice when Waste Management calls.
But I won't blame whoever it is.
They don't normally set policy.

didn't print their email

We, GS, PHG, and I, are away shortly to the Bay Area.
It's Just for the day.
GS has an appointment at Stanford*.
Maybe we'll get some answers.
Probably we'll hear mostly questions.
It's gonna be a long day.

The section between Vacaville and Palo Alto can be real torture.

glad it's not Friday

*the Women's Cancer Center

Hey kids ...what day is it?

one o' them days

yep!

Gaaaaaaah!

Certain difficulties persist on the Intenet front in the House of O'Brien.
Last Friday afternoon the DSL modem that has served us well for the past seven years went away.
It happened just before 5pm.
I was able to contact teck support at my ISP.
They tried to walk me through a restart with no success.
They are sending a new modem.
But because it happened after 5pm on Friday, the earliest it could be sent was Monday.
The next hangup with the scenario is the U.S. Post Office Service Center is now located in Sacramento.
That means the shipment from Mt Shasta, where the ISP is located will come south, through Redding and Anderson, to be sorted in Sac.
It will then be sent back north to Redding and then back again to Anderson.
We may receive it sometime tomorrow afternoon.


So today I am on a borrowed computer, using a Model T version of Internet Explorer and Windows XP.
Instead of bells and whistles there is a bell with no clapper.

I just wanted reassure everyone that all is okay.
I am not looking forward to seeing my email inbox.

Hey kids!

Do you know what today is?

It falls on Friday this month

Yeah, that right.
But that's not what I am leading up to.

The first thing we do is get a name.
Here's mine:

My pirate name is:

Dread Pirate Rackham

Like the famous Dread Pirate Roberts, you have a keen head for how to make a profit. You have the good fortune of having a good name, since Rackham (pronounced RACKem, not rack-ham) is one of the coolest sounding surnames for a pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

Then we celebrate for just about as long as possible.


Friday is always a good day to start.

Guess...

Yep!
It's on a Saturday this month

I don't always celebrate Friday the thirteenth.
But when I remember...

not a real priority

Hey kids guess what*

A month ago, to the day, I was griping.
It's one of the skills I learned in the Navy.
It is probably the only one I still use on a regular basis.
It comes in handy while I am figuring out what I have to do.
It's how I think out loud.
What really irritates me is when other chime in with their two cents worth.
That screws up the thought process.

Do I have to tell you what yesterday was?
Go look at yesterday's post.

We made the daily trek to the hospital for the antibiotic infusion.
Since it's the weekend, outpatient services are closed.
They have to find a bed so a nurse can hang the bag.
This is usually handled on the surgical floor.
Those same nurses are also handling numerous other patients.
The admitting office is not fully staffed.
There are all kinds of ramifications we don't have to deal with during the week.
Saturday had been a long morning.
We got there early and, at admitting, had to wait until someone came back from a break.
All in all it took almost three hours for a half-hour process.
We weren't expecting much yesterday.
It went like clockwork and we were done before 11:00.
There was still some waiting around, but that's a given, even under the best of circumstances.

Today it's back to the outpatient section in the dungeon.
And tomorrow is the last day.

GS is feeling pretty darn good.
She still hasn't conquered the diarrhea.
She doesn't have much of an appetite.
But her weight has stabilized.
The oncologist will start more aggressive treatment on Wednesday.

I think maybe I prefer driving to Redding on Sunday morning as opposed to any other day of the week.
Probably that's because the idiots are all still sleeping.

*Friday the 13th is on a Monday this month.

has nothing to do with anything

TW3 II

Maybe we'll have better luck this time.
Last time... a mere week ago... we tried this and the ancient PC kept puking all over whatever I tried.
The last ten days have been kinda pukey anyway.
I mean that only in an emotional way.
I don't get all emotional, at least so you can see it.

What I mean is someone started a roller coaster... or a yo-yo.

First, let's back up.
It really started just before Easter.
The Washington Clan (two adults, three kids and the dog) arrive to enjoy our company (because we had gone away at Christmas and totally screwed up that visit).
They brought the Rain Festival with them.
Easter was wet.
We were given the word that our medical plan (and probably yours, if you're over a certain age) had denied treatment to Grandma Skip because she hadn't starved enough, yet.
Then we were told there was a way around this.
Drive up to the hospital and have her admitted through the ER.
So GS spent a full 24 hours at the hospital before being told that, yes she is malnourished, her body is not absorbing sufficient nutrition from the small amounts of food she is able to eat, she shouldn't have diarrhea for four months straight, and, no, the medical plan will not pay for the only treatment that can do something for this.
"Go home and eat," they said.
"You can eat anything you want," they said.
They, being the medical folks.
The medical plan can only say yes or no.
It doesn't offer solutions.
It doesn't have to offer solutions.
We say, "Look, what if we pay for the stuff?"
The docs say, "It's kinda expensive."
We say, "We'll use the money we save on groceries."
They say, "Okay."
We are referred to a company that does this stuff (infusion therapy - it's a fancy name for sticking needles into someone for feeding or medication).
We go to a place where we are told all about how this will go, shown how to do it, and given supplies for doing home hydration over the weekend (because it has taken an entire week to reach this point).
They also steal some blood so they can do lab tests.
I was gonna write all of this in a longer piece last Saturday, when the computer puked.
GS now has a six foot hose and a bag of salt water with some vitamins and minerals in it.
It's called a banana bag.
That's what color it is, not its shape.
PHG and I have been "trained" how to change this and flush the port in GS's chest each day.
That is quite an accomplishment because PHG and I are, otherwise, a comedy act.
"Another fine mess you've gotten us into, Stanley!"
The Washington Clan departs on Sunday.
We go to the infusion supply shop on Monday.
GS has lost almost two pounds and is now below a weight that already seems less than optimal.
We are provided with one more banana bag and told we will return the next day after some further consultations with medical professionals on the part of the infusion therapy company.
They also pull some blood so they can do lab tests.
This is so they can compare the results with the previous tests.
So... it takes until about 11:00am for them to decided that GS has less than optimum amounts of certain minerals so she should go to the hospital to be admitted.
Yeah, again.
And again to the ER.
We learned a little something from the first time.
GS's son-in-law is a Paramedic.
He has an uncle who is a medical doctor, specifically a Hospitalist at the hospital.
Son-in-law is called, by me, and asked to see if he can arrange a work around so we don't have to go to the ER.
Son-in-law calls ambulance.
My first thought is a word that rhymes with duck.
But it is nearly impossible to return toothpaste to the tube and GS gets a ride...
...to the ER...
...and doesn't even get admitted to the hospital...
...because she isn't malnourished enough.
I'm thinking she has to be comatose.
She's really only physically emaciated, weak, and fatigued.
That is a really BIG duck I'm thinking of.
GS, by this time, is wearing an almost empty banana bag and it is four hours since the ambulance ride.
I drive her down the hill to the infusion company offices.
We are told they can't do anything more until her electrolytes have increased.
Those same electrolytes they wanted to have her admitted to the hospital to have taken care of because constant monitoring is necessary.
That can't be done at home because we can't do lab work there.
Another BIG duck.
GS's brother and sister-in-law arrive from Detroit.
He's brought his guitar.
She's brought Sander's.

More later...

there's a lady I have to go visit

Sometimes it's like that

"A human is a system for converting dust billions of years ago into dust billions of years from now via a roundabout process which involves checking email a lot."

~xkcd (2/13/2013)

GIGO