The best Christmas present

When I was about 9 years old, some developer built 5 houses across the street from our property. Until then, nearly all the homes in the area were either small farms or orchards or the like. Our house was on an acre of property, tucked well back from the street and surrounded by trees. My mother despised the development, but I was secretly thrilled because into the 5 houses moved several children around the age of me and my siblings. The house 3 doors down had a girl exactly my age! Her name was Karleen.

Karleen and I rapidly became best friends. We weren't very much alike; she was brunette and pretty, I was blondish and gawky; she had not only Barbie, Midge and Ken, she also had the Dream House and the convertible, my Barbie was lucky if she still had her head; she had an immaculate frilly bedroom with a canopy bed, if I bothered to clean my room, you could see the old patchwork quilt that I had managed to shred in places. But we loved each other, fought at times, made up and played together nearly every afternoon.

When I was about eleven, I spied a nightgown, robe and slipper set that I coveted completely. I don't remember if it was in a catalog or if I saw it at Levy Bros department store; I rather suspect the latter. It was a bright yellow polyester knit gown with red strawberries appliqued on the bodice. The robe and slippers were poly red velvet. Hey, it was the sixties, okay? Don't mock my fashion choices.

At any rate, Christmas morning arrived, and one of the presents under the white-flocked artificial tree was the very nightgown set I so badly desired. I was ecstatic and promptly dashed upstairs to don my gay apparel. As I descended the stairs in a glory of red and yellow, my mother suggested that perhaps I would want to go show Karleen my finery, which seemed a brilliant suggestion to me.

I hurried across the street in attired only in my new gown, slippers and robe in the slightly chilly California morning and rang Karleen's doorbell in a frenzy of impatience. The door opened, and there stood Karleen.... in the exact same outfit!!!

The girlish shrieks of delight were probably heard throughout the neighborhood. Because to be best friends and to have matching outfits on Christmas morning couldn't possible be any better when you are eleven years old.

I don't know for sure which mother set up the presents, I imagine it was my own. This Christmas I think I will ask, and give thanks where thanks are due, because without a doubt, that was the best Christmas present ever.

I hope your holiday is filled with joy and happiness; best friends and wonderful surprises; and that your most important wishes come true.

Today

is my husband's birthday.

I am very pleased that he was born. And even more pleased to celebrate that fact with him.

Happy Birthday, sweety. I love you.

Just pretend I am twittering

I most decidedly prefer working with paraffin wax as opposed to soy wax.

A predicament

Grant just got a birthday card from my parents. As usual, there was a check enclosed, in the usual amount. This is not the problem. Along with the birthday card was another envelope with a gorgeous Christmas card, also from my parents. Just the card. Yep, I actually shook the envelope to make sure.

Hmmm.

The possibilities? Possibility one: for the first time ever, my parents have decided not to give us checks for Christmas. They have already told us there will not be actual presents this year, which was entirely understandable, but our assumption was that we were getting cash instead. Presumptuous? Perhaps. Possibility two: They forgot to put the checks in the envelope. They are getting on a bit in years, after all. Possibility three: they are sending the checks under separate cover, a bit closer to Christmas. Seems unlikely, doesn't it?

What to do? What to do? And no, I don't want to be all adult about this. It's Christmas! That means yuletide cheer and stuff from Mom and Dad!!

Today's the day

Yes, the Christmas decorations are coming out of the boxes, the internet shopping nears completion and the candle-making and bath salt frenzy begins. (Bath salting?...Whatever.) I also need to buy supplies for making Christmas cookies and gingerbread houses at school. My students have been really good this year and this is their Christmas reward.

Honestly, how the heck did Christmas sneak up on me so fast?

And so, $100 later...

Yesterday, I happen to look over at the dog. She is lying on her side next to the sliding glass door and she is rolling a bit and nosing against the basket I have next to the door. I get up, saying "What's the matter, Lucy? Got a itchy nose?" and give her snout a good rub. But she still keeps moving and I realize that she seems like she is almost...having a fit? My heart nearly stops.

I pick her up and set her on her feet. She nearly topples over. Oh shit. Then suddenly, she tried to dash across the room, but only manages to stagger drunkenly before keeling right over. She gamely keeps trying to get up and promptly falls down again. Now, in full-blown panic mode, I call to Grant "I think Lucy may have had a stroke!" I pick her up and hold her, hoping that when I put her down whatever is happening will stop happening. I pet her. She seems calm. I set her on her feet. She tries to take off down the hall, once again staggering like a drunken sailor until her hindquarters seem to give out underneath her. Grant picks her up and holds her while I dial the emergency vet. I hold Lucy on my lap as we drive. I wonder if it the last day I will hold her.

I don't actually start to cry until after the vet's receptionist takes my dog away from me and asks me to wait until the vet is available. My dog is somewhere in the back of the office and they WON'T LET ME BE WITH HER! I wait, as does Grant. We don't even look at each other, because we can't bear to share the thought we are both thinking.

The vet, finally, invites us in. Lucy is walking around the small examining room, still tilting slightly to the right, but very nearly normal again. And the vet has a smile on her face. Apparently Lucy has most likely suffered an attack of Idiopathic Geriatic Vestibular Syndrome. Symptoms? Pretty much walking like a drunken sailor.

Signs of vestibular disease include ataxia, head tilt, and abnormal nystagmus. A wide-based stance and swaying of the head and trunk characterize ataxia. The patient may tend to lean and fall to one side. In severe cases, the animal may continuously roll to one side. Head tilt is an abnormal position of the head such that one ear is held lower than the other. Nystagmus is a rhythmic movement of the eyes, where the eyes move back and forth or up and down. In some cases of vestibular disease, there is a sudden onset of severe signs. This may initially be confused with a seizure.

No shit.

The vet tells us that unlike most of her visits on a weekend, this was a good visit. The symptoms may return, but it is nothing to be worried about. We just need to keep her safe from stairs and the like, so she doesn't accidentally fall down them if she has another attack.

Today she is back to her same old self. We are $100 poorer and much relieved.