Bad Computer Karma

It seems that either Eric or I have bad computer karma -- or maybe it's the influence of his on mine or mine on his. Whatever. We have another computer down. Statistically, this is highly unlikely. We've had several hard drive failures since we started Modern Ferret. The Compudyne's first hard drive died. Two hard drives in one of the Microns. Two (or three?) in the computer Eric and Arnold built in 2001. There's got to be an explanation. Sabotage? Karma? Eric's magnetic polarity? (They're always machines that he works on.) I wish I could discover the cause and, thus, prevent future problems. Certainly I try to keep Eric away from my little laptop.

It always (or nearly always) happens when we're trying to finish doing an issue of the magazine. That's one of the reasons I think it might be karma. Or Eric's magnetic polarity (he is touching the machine more during magazine production). Nothing like computer problems to darken the days. --Mary

Turducken and Montana Potatoes

It was Christmas. My brother Mike was talking about New Year's Day plans at his house out on the north fork of Long Island. He kept saying we'd be having "turducken." Mike is his father's son and has been known to bs from time to time (not nearly as expertly as our dad, but he makes the effort). I figured he was making it up. It's the kind of word Mike would make up: "Turducken." It's silly, really.

New Year's Day. All the talk is "turducken." Ah, but what are we really having for dinner? Robin, my sister-in-law, says, "No, really. It's a turkey, stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a chicken." "Turducken." And that's what it was. Of course, the chicken was quite small, having to fit inside a duck. It was a tasty dish.

I might have been more likely to believe in turducken from the start if my dad hadn't pulled the Montana Potatoes thing on me when I was a teenager. After my mom died and my father divorced b*****o, but before he married Marilee (my wonderful stepmom), my dad pretty much always cooked dinner. He'd make things that he liked. Lima beans. Hush puppies. I can only thank God that he never tried to get me to eat liver. (Or maybe I should thank my dad.)

One evening I commented on how the mashed potatoes seemed to be an odd color -- they were sort of orangy. My dad said (without missing a beat -- your bs is worth nothing if you're not quick), "they're Montana Potatoes." Innocence. I don't know how I lived that many years with my dad and still believed a word he said. But I did. The potatoes tasted okay, so I didn't think anything about it.

It might have been a year or two -- maybe even three -- before the night my Grandma Drews was over for dinner. Dad was cooking -- he made the Montana Potatoes. Grandma was putting the dish with the Montana Potatoes on the table and said, "Ah, turnips!" (with her Czech accent, though, it was more like "toinups"). What? Turnips? All this time, I'd been eating turnips! I never would have tried them if my dad hadn't tricked me. To this day, I love mashed turnips -- my Montana Potatoes. -- Mary

Pictures!

The first picture is Trixie and me. Notice that my hair is pink.

Now come the pictures of the new bunny toilet paper dispenser we got today.

        

That is all. --Mary

Monday Again

I had a terrible allergy attack last night and had to take a bunch of Benedryl, which has left me groggy even now at 3:30 in the afternoon. Now I'm starting to get sneezy again. I've tried allergy medications that are supposed to not make you drowsy, but they don't work. The only prescription medication that helped was Zyrtec, which made me sleepy. Hence, I'm stuck with Benedryl. Benedryl works very well, but it can really knock me out. Usually I can take a child's dose and get relief. Last night I reached most of an adult dose before I gave up and went to bed. Methinks it's time to wash the ferrets (they pick up a good amount of dust, which is my most severe allergy/asthma trigger).

Back to work. --Mary

Cleaning Ears & Clipping Nails

Tonight was clipping/cleaning night. With only three ferrets, it goes very quickly. They all tolerate the nail clipping very well (bribery with Ferretone). The ear cleaning is another story. It's that way with all ferrets. I don't know which one hates it the most. Koosh certainly fights the hardest -- but he's the biggest and has the most fight in him. Trixie hates it (she's a very particular lady), but she's easier to subdue than Koosh is. Gabby is pretty easy to manage. Overall, she's a very tolerant girl. Still, she'd rather not have her ears cleaned. Wait until we get our new batch of tooth cleaning cloths -- then they'll all be mad. Our ferrets do not tolerate tooth brushing very well at all (few ferrets -- or animals -- do). But it is very necessary -- especially as they get older. Gum disease can lead to more serious illness (and even death), so cleaning ferret teeth is nothing to overlook no matter how hard they protest.

::stepping down from the soapbox::

Charmed

They've been showing early episodes of Charmed on TNT for about a month or so now (boy is Shannen Doherty's face crooked!). I'd never watched it before. Eric had seen a couple episodes when he was in the hospital and he suggested we watch a bit and see if we like it. Well we do. For a while there, TNT was showing it three times a day! Of course, that allowed us to catch up very quickly. Now I think there's only one episode we actually missed (when they first started showing it three times a day, we'd only taped two of them). If this seems a bit ... obsessive ... well, it is. I'm like that. Someday some TV station is going to show Star Trek: Deep Space Nine from the beginning -- I'm really looking forward to that. We'd only started watching after the third or fourth season, so we missed a lot. We started buying the videos, but that became kind of expensive. Besides, I don't think I love it that much that I want to own the whole set.

I digress. Tonight was the 100th episode of Charmed. My entertainment for the day. Well, my TV entertainment for the day. Before I go to bed, I'll play with the ferrets and read (I'm currently reading Bio of an Ogre by Piers Anthony). What I think I like about Charmed is the relationships among the sisters. There's something very inviting about how close they are. It makes me think of my own sister -- and my brothers. That kind of closeness is something to strive for in my own life. So, Charmed is, for me, a sort of "comfort TV." Of course, I love watching chicks kick demon butt, too (that's why I love Buffy and why I loved Xena). Strong female role models. As if I need them at my age. But I think I do. No matter how old I get, I still feel like I'm about 16.

That's enough for tonight. --Mary

Sunday.

It's still cold outside. It might snow. Not that what happens outside matters all that much right now. What I'm supposed to be doing is working on the magazine. Instead I'm doing this.

Funny Thing

Trixie is supposed to go to the vet tomorrow to have the stitches removed from where her mast cell tumor was removed. But the stitches are gone. I don't know if she pulled them out or what. It looks healed nicely, so I'm not really concerned. It's just weird. She still has to go to the vet, though. When she had her teeth cleaned and the mast cell removed, she also had a full blood workup done. But only part of it came back. Apparently the blood coagulated en route and they couldn't do part of the workup. The important stuff came back normal -- liver enzymes, kidney values -- but I still want a full accounting of Trixie's blood. So Dr. Ned is going to pull more blood tomorrow.

That's all for now. I'll try to get Eric to take a picture of my pink hair today and post it here. I think it's cute, but you might think I'm just a freak. The truth is: it's just hair. If it pleases me to make it an unnatural color, then I will. Life is too short to forgo fun things. --Mary

Later That Same Day...

I'm hanging pictures in my upstairs "space." I'm not sure what to do with some of my more freaky things. It still looks too much like a storage place up here. I want it to be mine. So far, I have up my Maxfield Parrish print, my clock, and a picture my friend Jay drew many years ago. I'm trying to flatten out my giant Elvis Costello poster so it will hang properly. The thing's been rolled for many years now. It's not as damaged as I'd remembered (this is good news). Just a couple of small tears. I'll have to find a good way to fix them. I've thought of getting two strips of wood, one for the top and one for the bottom, and tacking the poster to them. Make it like an ancient scroll. Then I would put a picture hook on the wood and hang the poster like that. The weight of the wood at the bottom would hold the poster flat against the wall. Plans.

I've also been changing the outlet plates. Most of the plates they used here are plastic, and when you try to tighten them (so you can plug in something), they crack. Eric and I bought a bunch of oversized metal outlet plates to replace the cracked plastic ones. I get a real sense of accomplishment when I do things like that. Maybe it has to do with using tools. I don't know.

That's the five-o'clock update. Now I'll get back to work, or something like it. -- Mary

Brrrrrr!

We haven't had temperatures this low here in three years (according to the channel 11 newsteam last night). Funny how it looks innocent out the window: The sky is blue; the world is still. I'm glad I'm in here.

I'm not a fan of cold weather. Or hot weather. But my theory is this: If it's cold out, you can put on another sweater or blanket; if it's hot out, you can only take off so much. So, through the lesser-of-two-evils reasoning, I prefer cold weather to hot weather. It took me many years to figure out how to layer my clothing properly to keep warm. I don't know why I had a mental block against it. It's really a simple concept. T-shirt. Pullover sweater. Cardigan. Coat. Or thermal shirt, flannel, fleece zip-up -- whatever. But it took me years to figure out how to do it properly so that I stay warm when I go outside in the cold. For much of my life I thought it was simply impossible to stay warm outside in cold weather. I thought everyone was cold despite their layers and coats. No. It was only me. Maybe a few other people. Of course there was that "cool kid" aversion to hats (and the dreaded hat-head and static electrically charged hair). Now I wrap a grandma scarf around my head and put up my hood. A few experiences where the cold got to my ears and caused me excruciating pain for hours afterward have made me understand that -- at least in the cold weather -- the fashion is not worth the pain (shoes are another story entirely). So it took me 30-some-odd years, but I am wiser now.

The news last night was strange. Not the news itself, but watching the reporters out in the cold. You could barely see their mouths through their frozen breath as they spoke. It was hard to concentrate on what they were saying. Meanwhile Jim and Kaity (sp?) were under the hot studio lights. You pay your dues, you earn your place in the sun. Or under the studio lights.

Actually, my brother (Mike) and sister-in-law (Robin) are friends with Jim Watkins. I don't know if that matters. But it's trivia.

At the post office yesterday the clerks (both named Barbara) said my hair looks like cotton candy. That's what I like about pink. It makes people think of pleasant things. It's a happy color. It's an unintended perk that it takes a few years off of me. That and the miracle of good skin. I still have no idea why I'm not wrinkled and gray like my siblings. The Picture of Dorian Gray always comes to mind. Not that I'm a horrible person who leaves broken hearts and lives in her wake, but I've done my share of hard living. Still, I don't look it. I'm sure I'll wake up one morning at it will have all caught up to me. I hope not.

There's not much more to say right now. It's noon on Saturday and I'm still in my pajamas (Winnie the Pooh and Piglet, too!). Maybe it's time to get the day started. --Mary

This Week

Eric finally got his Remicade treatement on Wednesday. That should get him back to feeling better again. It went as well as any other infusion. No problems. We did have to wait a long time before the medication showed up from pharmacy. But that's usual. They won't even mix it until after Eric gets there. We ended up watching TV in the outpatient room all day. Next time we have to remember to bring a video, since they do have a VCR there.

Thursday was hair day. My hair is now pink again. It's a nice pink. Eric and I both got our hair cut (much needed). I'll have to get Eric to take some pictures today. We have other pictures to take, so maybe we'll do them all.

Friday (today). It snowed last night. Not a lot. But we went out at 11 pm to put the garbage cans by the street and it was beautiful. Not the garbage. The floodlights in the driveway made the snow sparkle. It was amazing. Like a snow-globe. This morning I'm trying to plan the day to be productive. Eric and I are behind on magazine production because he hasn't been feeling well the last couple of weeks. Today I'm going to start diving into that. Eric is going to work on some new products for the FerretDesigns.com site for Valentines Day. We're hoping he'll get those up sometime today. We also have to do an e-newsletter. Always work. Always.

Ferrets!

The ferrets were happy last night. Koosh and Gabby were hopping around on the bed like a couple of ... ferrets. I love when they're happy. It's infectious. Trixie isn't much for the hopping around like an idiot thing (she never really was -- she's a more refined ferret). But she was wandering around sniffing at everything. I think she's become a little more active since her tooth was removed. And the mast cell tumor on her leg. She gets those stitches out on Monday. It's healed very nicely.

Time to go to work. I have lots of brain work and physical work to do today. A perfect balance. --Mary

Sometimes Monday is a drag; sometimes Monday is a new beginning

I'm not sure what this Monday is. I try to be optimistic about the new week. I've started writing some poems. I'm not sure if they're any good (they need to age a little before I can tell). Well, okay, they're not bad. They're promising. But I still need a little distance from them to see them for what they are -- if they can stand on their own. Poetry is a scatter-shot proposition for me. I spill out anything that pops into my head and sort it all out later. Sometimes it's like running an old faucet to get the rust out before the clear water comes. Sometimes each drop is a pearl. I miss my college days when there were always rooms-full of people to disect my words. To be honest, if sometimes un-gentle. But mostly I got praise. I thrive on praise. I do not respond well to criticism. It's a knee-jerk. I get defensive. I have to recover from the slap before I can open my eyes to the helpfulness of the comment. Sometimes people are wrong -- they don't see what I intended; sometimes they're right. Though, I suppose, if they don't see what I intended, then I haven't spelled out my intentions clearly enough. I guess it's always my fault to some degree. But at least that means I can change it.

I didn't really have anything to say this morning. I'm still trying to enjoy my new keyboard. It's much better than typing on the laptop keyboard (with some of the letters rubbed off the keys from excessive use).

That's all for now. --Mary

Plans

Eric and I are trying to figure out what we want to do with our lives. I know this sounds weird -- we do Modern Ferret, after all. But it's becoming more and more apparent that the magazine -- as it is now produced -- is just too much work for Eric. He's a frustrated game programmer (this is what he wanted to do since he was a kid). So we're trying to figure out how I can do production on the magazine, while Eric starts to work on video games. (Of course, he's going to work on something with ferrets!) The big problem we have is that we need a new computer that I can use to produce the magazine. My laptop isn't powerful enough and all the other machines are either too old or too infirm (unstable). Plus I have to learn how to use Pagemaker. I don't think that'll be a big problem -- I'm pretty good at picking up various programs on my own. But we just don't have the money to get the new computer. So, at least for #34, Eric will be doing the actual page layout again. I just have to get my act together and finish editing some of the articles and writing. A day's work -- from which I am constantly distracted by the lure of unpacking or leaving this tiny place to get food or cleaning products or anything that gives me a reason to be out of the house. This coming week has two doctor's appointments and a hair appointment (I got a gift certificate for Christmas -- let's see what color I end up!). I know we have to be here on Tuesday because that's when our new rabbit toilet paper holder is supposed to arrive by UPS. So maybe today I should be doing real work instead of babbling here about all the work I have to do. I must admit, though, that babbling about the work is actually easier than doing it. But doing it is much more fulfilling.

Ferret Mailing List

As I said I would, I have re-joined the FML. I haven't posted yet, and probably won't for a while. But I'm reading it to get back into the feel of it. I've also started reading the FOB list, as well. It's a bit calmer than the FML. I really want to connect more and better with the ferret community -- I just want to do it on my terms instead of responding once I've been called out. As I continue to feel well on the medication I'm taking for depression and anxiety, I continue to feel like I can take on whatever I need to in order to live my life happily. So ... watch out! ;o) --Mary

Medicating Ferrets

After their full dentistries (teeth cleanings) on Monday, our three fuzzballs have been on Amoxicillin for 5 days. Koosh loves Amoxi. He thinks it's a treat. (I think I mentioned this earlier.) Gabby has now come to love it, too. But Trixie ... ah, Trixie. She still thinks we're trying to poison her. She really isn't a ferret who enjoys new tastes. Someday (soon) we'll get her melodramatic reaction to bad tastes on video and put it up on the web.

For the first time today, I managed to figure out a way to medicate Trixie by myself. Here's what I did:

1. I put a little bit of Ferretone in a spoon on the counter.

2. I drew the Amoxi into the needle-less syringe.

3. I put Trixie on my lap and scruffed her.

4. I dribbled the Amoxi into the side of Trixie's mouth (much to her dislike). (Trixie: "Oh my God! Poison! Bleah! Ptooey! Gag!")

5. I quickly dabbed a fingertip into the Ferretone on the spoon and wiped it on Trixie's nose. (*FYI: Ferrets will usually lick off whatever is on their nose just to get it cleaned off -- this is a good way to get a ferret to "willingly" try a Duck Soup-type recipe or Hill's a/d et al.)

6. Trixie lapped at the Ferretone until she'd clean forgotten about the horror of being medicated.

7. I didn't have to wake Eric.

I'm Upstairs Now

The upstairs room here is starting to take shape. I dragged a dresser up the stairs (it's a very light dresser) and used that to store all the fabric we use for photo backdrops. It helped me get rid of three huge boxes. Today I hope to rearrange things a bit more to make this actually look like a nice little office.

The place where we're living now is actually a converted 5-car (or so) garage. It has an attic, of which a small area is finished (my office!). The rest of the attic is storage. We're running a de-humidifier in there to try to keep it at least humidity controlled, if not temperature controlled. So this little room of mine has a window and a slanted ceiling. It's very cozy, especially with the carpet my dad installed. I ran a network cable up here, so I can access the internet and the printer downstairs. The main thing is that I get to work in relative peace. I find it hard to write if I don't have a space of my own. I'm taking full advantage of my litle "nest" up here. Soon I'll have all my pictures up: a wonderfully creepy Bosch print, an equally creepy drawing by a friend of mine, a print of the Maxfield Parrish painting, "Daybreak," a bizarre xerox a friend gave me of Salvidor Dali's face from a Time or Newsweek magazine article, and an enormous poster my sister-in-law gave me of Elvis Costello from the This Year's Model tour.

But now it's time for lunch and then work. I'm still feeling good and I want to run with it. -- Mary

What's Wrong With People?

The news gets worse and worse each day, it seems. This morning, before I'd finished my coffee, I'd read about a teen in Maryland who poisoned his friend with cyanide. I read that Mayor Mike thinks the boys who've been beaten, burned, and starved these last few months are fine now -- just normal boys (What?!). I read that the woman who did the beating, burning, and starving of the boys got lightheaded in court (aw -- my sympathy, really). Add this to the story of the Tennessee cops who shot a family's dog as the family looked on in horror. North Korea pulling out of the Nuclear Arms Treaty. Some teacher here on Long Island allegedly molesting a student. The list goes on and on and on. So I'd just like to know: What's wrong with people? Doesn't anyone have a moral compass anymore?
--Mary

Phone Calls

I really don't like making phone calls. It's some deep-seated problem that I've had all my life. I'm much better in writing. On the phone I get nervous -- even now with the meds I'm taking. It is better than it was, but it's still a source of anxiety for me. Today I have to make a lot of phone calls. I'm not very psyched for it, but I'm trying. I'll do the easier ones first (haircut appointment, dr appointment), then work my way up to the less pleasant ones (health insurance, accountant). In between, I'll find time to procrastinate.

I'm finally moved upstairs. I have a new keyboard and a proper chair. It's nice up here. Mostly quiet. And there's a window. I like windows. I need the sunlight. I still have a lot to do up here to make it mine, but it's starting to shape up.

More later, if there's news. --Mary

Parents

What is it about parents that they can make even adult children feel like ... well ... children? It undermines our egos. It makes us question our self-sufficiency. Then it just gets us mad. I'm sure when I grow up and have children, I'll do the same. At least for my parents, I think the disappointment is more about us not getting what they think we deserve, rather than just a way to put us down. I could be wrong. It could be the old theory that if you kick a kid enough, he'll finally grow strong and fight back. But I've never responded like that. Maybe because I'm a girl. Who knows? I suppose it isn't that important. After all, my life is here with Eric and the ferrets. My parents aren't the boss of me. ;o)

Today, I actually accomplished a lot of things I really didn't want to do. Things I've been putting off. Tomorrow I can finish up with that. I just wish that I hadn't called my parents in between. Then I'd feel better now than I do.

That's enough whining for today. Now I have other work to do. Like make dinner and play with the ferrets. -- Mary

Ferret Tooth Cleaning

Yesterday all three of the ferrets had their teeth cleaned.

Trixie: Trixie is 7 years old. She had one tooth removed. This is the first "illness" that Trixie has ever had. She also had a mast cell tumer removed from her right front leg. (While she was under ...) We also had our vet pull blood on her so we have some baseline values for her. I don't think anything is wrong with her; I expect the bloodwork to come back normal. But if she does get ill, we'll have results to compare. All the ferrets are on Amoxicillin for 5 days. Trixie is not fond of it, but she takes it.

Koosh: Koosh yanked out his first IV, so they had to shave his other arm and put in a new one. Typical of Koosh, I think. Other than that, he did fine with the tooth cleaning. He was very sleepy last night, but I expect he'll be back to his old insane self today. He loves the Amoxi. I'm grateful for that, since he's really a handful to try to scruff and force-feed medicines.

Gabrielle: Gabby went through the tooth cleaning uneventfully. Like Koosh, she was also sleepy last night. She likes the Amoxi, but isn't sure if she likes the consistency of it (it's kind of a saliva-type consistency). So I do have to scruff her to get all of the medicine in. Fortunately, she responds very well to scruffing.

So that's the news from here. I feel good that I've helped the little buggers. Now we just have to keep up with cleaning their teeth here at home. It's one of the most overlooked aspects of grooming, yet one of the most important. Bad teeth and gum disease can actually kill a ferret. So make sure you keep an eye on your ferret's teeth. There are little cleaning pads you can get at a pet store or you can try to use a cat toothbrush. Ferrets aren't very keen on having their teeth cleaned, but they can get used to it. It could save their lives.

--Mary

Snow

I'd forgotten how much I like snow. We were supposed to get some overnight and this morning; I'm disappointed that there is none on the ground. Rain instead. I don't care much for rain. I'm not sure what it is about snow that makes me feel good or, maybe, child-like. White can be comforting, I suppose.

When I think of snow in my childhood, first I remember the cold stinging my wrists. We didn't have much money growing up, though I never noticed it at the time. But I'll bet my winter coat was a little short in the arms and my mittens (gloves were for adults) didn't cover the exposed skin of my wrists. I stayed out in the snow past where I could stand the stinging. Stayed until the snow could no longer distract me.

I made snow angels mostly. I can remember the sound of the snow lightly groaning beneath the weight of my head. The white made me feel like an angel. Back then, I believed in angels. I knew they existed because my mother had told me so. When we'd decorate for Christmas, we'd put out several little plastic angel figurines playing instruments. Harp. Lute. Trumpet. They were beautiful to me. The angels had pale golden hair and wore flowing white gowns. I loved them. I probably still have them stored somewhere -- like most of my memories. And my belief in angels.

There was more snow when I was a child, too. Or maybe even a dusting was like a blizzard. But, no. There are pictures of my brothers and me hip-deep in the snow. My dad helping build snow forts. My mom taking the pictures (you never see her).

Sometimes, when we were finished in the snow, my mom would make hot cocoa and serve it in the tan cups with saucers that we'd gotten from Tony Wickers. Mr. Wickers was a friend and neighbor of my Grandma and Grandpa Drews. He was huge. The fattest man I'd ever seen. But he was happy. He had worked some kind of job in restauranting. He'd gotten my mom restaurant dishes that were virtually un-chippable and unbreakable. Those were the tan cups and saucers. There was a roundness to the dishes that made them very comforting, especially with hot cocoa in them. Back then, there was no Swiss Miss; if you wanted hot cocoa, you had to boil the milk and all that. My mom didn't make it often, which made it very special when she did make it.

That's where snow puts me. Back into the simplicity and joy of childhood. My mom still alive. My dad still a flawless hero. And the snow as deep as you could ever want.

--Mary

Resolutions

This year I resolve not to have any resolutions (pretty much same as last year). I've found that New Year's resolutions are, for most people, a set-up to be let down. I think it's the height of irrationality to resolve to quit smoking, drinking, eating ... whatever ... at midnight on New Year's. Why? Well, you're at a party, smoking, drinking, eating -- and you've been doing that for a couple of hours now -- you are not in the best position to suddenly stop. It's a set-up to let yourself down. New Year's Day is no better. You need to make these kinds of changes when you have the least stress -- not in the middle of party season, not during the post-holiday blues.

What I'd like to accomplish this year (as opposed to resolve to do) is a lot of writing. Non-ferret writing. I want to write about beer. My Grandpa Drews was a truck driver for Ballentine Beer and my dad has a lot of memories of that. I want to write about all the crazy people in my family. Not technically crazy, but odd and wild. I want to write about my dad's numerous "adventures." I want to write about my own experiences, the things I've overcome, the demons I've battled and routed (or continue to rout daily, as the case may be). I want to write poetry again. Not that I'd completely stopped, but I want to concentrate on it again. These are the things I was put here to do. The ferret stuff is a wonderful bonus. It gives me a more immediate sense of satisfaction about helping people (and ferrets). An infusion of feel-good.

That's all I wanted to say. --Mary

Happy New Year!

I hope everyone had a safe New Year's Eve. Eric and I went to friends' and played board games. It was fun. Really. May 2003 see this world become a better place. May you all have a good year. -- Mary