Lucky Ducky

Six Month Cutie

Shall we jump? (bum bum-bum)

Hands down (or rather feet down) being in the jumper is Skeeter's favorite activity. That is, after cuddling with Aunt Kay, because I KNOW he loves doing that too.

The Ker-chunk, Ker-chunk, Ker-CHUNK that resounds though the house when he really gets it going is impressive, to be sure. He doesn't stop when he is thirsty, but demands a hydration break (see center pic.) You get pulled into it too...my head will nod up and down to the rhythm of the jump, which just pleases him more and gives me a headache. He jumps until his hands and feet are past cold, but even then he doesn't stop. The only clue you have that he is done is his cry, but the Ker-chunk goes on until he is pulled out. Instead of the dance of the red shoes, it's the bounce of the navy slippers....

Minty Fresh Brows

I have a single hold out to feminine vanity. I gave up make-up years ago. I rarely wear jewelry anymore. My hair style could be charitably called "functional." But I still pay money to have my eyebrows shaped. It truly is the difference between Cro-Magnon-me and civilized me. This simple grooming act immensely improves my outlook on the world in general and my life in particular, but there is a price to pay.

Once the pale mono-brow has been tamed with hot wax, tweezers and itty-bitty scissors, the stylist applies a special goo to the offended skin to keep the redness down and inhibit a future errant eyebrow crop. This miracle glop must contain menthol or mint of some kind. When I leave the shop, and burst out into the bracing Michigan winter day, the cold hits my upper face like a slap. What is left of my eyebrows instantly ascend into my hairline and tears burst forth. I assume the startled expression of Mrs. Waldersdorf, a neighbor from my childhood. According to local legend, she shaved her eye brows as a teenager and they never grew back. She would pencil in a thin curve over each eye with a red-brown pencil, and every year those mini umbrellas rose higher and higher into her hairline. A very nice lady, but a very scary sight to behold.

Ah well, perhaps some small child who witnessed my exit today is writing/telling her/his friends about the weird lady with the red forehead whose eye’s popped out….

Looks like the lizzard spit is working!

I missed some work because of the side effects, but that is tapering off... My blood sugar has been much better. The only drawback is getting use to leading such a structured life. An hour before breakfast and dinner I take one shot, half an hour later, another, and then I HAVE TO eat a half an hour after that. Makes dining out a bitch. A friend and I went out to dinner on Friday, I took the first shot, we drove to the restaurant (took about 20 minutes) and there was a 45 minute wait for a table. I knew we wouldn't get served by the hour mark, so we had to go somewhere else. Well, we did get to another restaurant. We didn't get our food by the hour, so I ordered a regular pop because I was getting shaky. Everything turned out fine and we had a lovely evening....but still a pain.

In other news, spent the afternoon today with Skeeter and B. God I love that kid!

Our Boy Bing

Scene: My living room, July 2007. I am reading the newspaper in chair. Eight year old G meanders in...

G: Wheeeere is my boy Bing........

Aunt K: (newspaper is lowered with a rustle) Pardon me?

G: (Sigh...eye roll) Where is my AND your boy Bing...

I love all my pets and they are all special to me, but (shush don't tell) this little boy is my favorite of the cats I have now. He is also the favorite of the two little girls in my life. (Sorry L, sixteen is still little to me.) He has those certain qualities that I love in a cat; he is beautiful , he knows how to suck up, and he will do almost anything for an scratch! Only one other cat is my all-time-favorite, and bless his four-legged soul, he died at the age of 17 almost a decade ago.

Through the Internet grapevine I have heard that G isn't feeling well. So for you Georgie-Porgie, here are some pictures of our Binghee. I was wiggling my fingers in the international sign of Itchie, and he came a running... Love Gugu.

Proper Name: Bingly (Named after a Jane Austen character by L when he was going to be her cat. That was before we discovered her BIG dog "Beelzebub, Hound of Hell" thought he looked really yummie.)

Nicknames: Bing, MR. Bingly, Binghee, Ba-ging-ghee, Kitty-Kitty-Bing-Bing (G's fine four feathered friend,) Bing-a-ling, Bingalbean, Bwackie-Bing (had an identical brother whose 6 year-old owner named Bwackie-Sam, so you know.)and the list keeps growing...

Forbbiden names: Bingo, Itchie-whore (thank you, sister-mine.)