Oh God

Sep. 20th, 2007 06:28 pm
cleolinda: (GALADRIEL SMASH!)
When Sister Girl's best friend came over this afternoon, she saw that there was a police car outside the house across the street, where a girl I went to school with (both high school and grad school, actually, although the latter was a mixed grad/undergrad class) lives (or at least her family does; I don't know the exact arrangement) and was sobbing hysterically. Somehow this turned into "Their house has been broken into," although I don't know how Sister Girl and Best Friend came to this hypothesis, but my mother has just now been across the street to check up on things, and this is what happened: Lauren (the other girl) came home and found two of their five cats (including, rest in peace, the Shaggy Cat) mauled to death on their back deck. There's a third cat currently missing, though wounded or dead no one yet knows. She was able to describe two large, black, shaggy (I think? I'm not sure?) dogs who had broken into their yard and completely pulverized a bush, apparently, in their zeal to get at the cats; I'm assuming they were still on the scene when Lauren found the cats. Now, because I'm lazy, I'd rather walk our dogs out to the back yard to do their thing than drag them around on leashes, and they're old enough now to understand what Go Outside means, so I just shepherd everyone out back three or four times a day. (We have a very tall, very sturdy wooden privacy fence--in part to keep vagabond kids out of the pool--so I think we were safe.) So I had no idea that these two dogs had been terrorizing the street all day, according to other neighbors--at one point even charging a small toddler who lives next door to Lauren. At least two different families keep their dogs in open yards with those zappy perimeter collars, too, so if their dogs had been outside, they wouldn't even have been able to flee if attacked. Fortunately, I think the woman across the street was able to grab the toddler and get inside before anything happened, and no one else's pets were hurt. But Lauren's parents and the police officer started combing the bushes up and down the street, hoping to find the missing third cat, when my mother saw them and took the opportunity to ask what was going on. Apparently another neighbor had seen them as well and told Lauren's mother to get in her car and he'd follow the dogs one way and she could go around the other, and he was able to follow the dogs up [Street Near Me]. He had lost them by that point, but the neighbor asked a man standing outside if he'd seen them, and the man said, yes, actually, he had. A gray pickup truck with a ladder in the back had come forward and stopped; the driver had gotten out and hustled the dogs into the back, and then he had driven backwards to get out of the neighborhood, apparently rather than let anyone see his plates. Which says to me that he knew his dogs were dangerous, and very possibly had caused havoc before, and he knew that he was going to be in deep shit if anyone caught up with him. I mean, I'm sure they escaped--not like he purposely set them loose--but the police are looking for a truck of that description now, and if anyone sees the dogs out marauding again, they're to call 911 and someone will immediately be sent out to catch them.

(Jesus, those poor cats. I mean, I'm still sad that Lucky passed away a year ago today, but we discussed both his passing and Meko's at the respective times, and we were all glad that they went suddenly and peacefully and painlessly. Lauren's cats? ... Not so much.)


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Puppytime

Mar. 3rd, 2007 09:32 pm
cleolinda: (Default)
So Shelby has made herself completely at home. Read more... )

A little bit of linkspam )


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cleolinda: (Default)
I was going to write this big cathartic narrative entry about what happened last night, but I didn't, and now I'm tired. In a nutshell:

We had dinner at the Olive Garden for Mom's birthday, where she managed to blurt out something about one of my [paternal] cousins having had "an affair with a professor," which isn't strictly true--J. told me at the time that it hadn't gone that far, but I'm no expert on the subject--but Sister Girl had never heard of this before, and gets very upset when people "don't tell her things." Never mind that she was about twelve at the time, and J. and I were both in college, and J. didn't want anyone to know. I told my mother some months later, because she isn't very involved with that branch of the family anyway and blah blah blah can of worms, open there on the dinner table.

We get home. Mom and George turn on American Idol. Sammy [white pomeranian] proceeds to have a seizure. That's right: the contestants were so bad, they nearly killed my dog. Mom starts freaking out and claiming he had a stroke right there in front of us. After much dithering and freaking out and having me consult my panel of veterinary experts (vet student, vet's daughter, vet via vet's daughter), they do end up taking Sam to the emergency clinic, where yet a fourth opinion is added to the Probably Was a Seizure pot. They come home. "That was not a very nice present to give your Mommy," Mom babytalks to Sam. Sometime before 11 pm, we light the candles on her birthday cake.

My wisdom teeth are killing me. Generally Aleve has knocked out the pressure in my jaw, but today a section of gum became inflamed. Again. You know, that kind of itchy/painful feeling like when your wisdom teeth are cutting through? That. And I've bitten my tongue and/or cheek in three different places. My appointment to finally have my wisdom teeth out, after ten years of clinging to them for old times' sake, is at the end of March. In the meantime, I pain.

Ended up cram-reading all of The Blithedale Romance today for class. I liked it--it's much more accessible than The Scarlet Letter, which I still liked anyway. Have decided to steal the lesser-known identity of a minor character to use as homage in Black Ribbon (when you see a forger named Fauntleroy, you'll know why). Am very pleased with the way seminar is going--has been very useful for Black Ribbon.

Lucky Dog is very depressed, because the back door is sealed off and he can't go play with his possum and his rooster in the back yard. The deck has been torn down and is being rebuilt, and currently there's a fifteen-foot drop from the back door to the yard. He just sits with his nose against the door; it's very sad. It'll take two weeks, apparently, but everyone knows that you multiply construction time by three, if you're lucky. This is apparently why Sam had his seizure, by the way--stress brought on by the house-shaking clamor of the deck being torn down and all the strange men in his yard.

There are several other mundane things I could record (leftover Chicago deep-dish, Sister Girl's strained dinner date with Dad, my plan to finally put Days of Our Lives back on the straight and narrow), but I'm tired, so I won't. Playing Neoquest II until the Aleve kicks in and I can sleep. Fnarr.

Sleepy

Dec. 11th, 2003 11:02 pm
cleolinda: (Default)
Think I'm coming down with Mom's hell-cold. Laid on bed, read Beowulf all afternoon; Lucky Dog lay beside me on his back and snored. Was bitchass cold. Wore chenille socks. Had toast for dinner.

Oh, here's something interesting--I've submitted my latest three revisions to [livejournal.com profile] poetryslamming out of sheer curiosity. I read some of the other poem/comment threads, and while some of the criticism was pretty blunt (I have a Southerner's tendency to be over-tactful, if there is such a thing), it was all constructive--specific advice on line breaks or word choices, which you don't tend to see often. Also, with "slamming" in the name of the community, it's not like you're going to be taken by surprise or anything. So basically I'm curious to see if I make the grade. Or their grade. Or whatever. I keep revising and revising and revising, so any sort of radical suggestion might actually help.

Tomorrow: hair cut!
cleolinda: (Default)
Have updated the Newstracker after a week off for the flu (that's the movie news page at my site, the Daily Digest, which is theoretically updated daily and is, in reality...not-so-daily. Sigh). Anyway, the premise of the site (since I haven't mentioned it much before) is that I go read some fifty movie news sites and then summarize the links by category--casting, trailers, new pictures, interviews, reviews, new projects in general, DVDs, a smattering of gossip and other news, etc. I'd like to run first-hand news and scoops and such, but since I can't really compete on that level, I decided to create a site for the people around me, friends and family who like movies and are interested in this sort of thing but don't really have the time to read every single site on a daily basis. I have been known to say that it was the most fun, least gainful employment I've ever had, and in a perfect world I would make a living doing this.

What's that? Oh, I'm sorry, that's my wallet laughing at me in the background. My wallet does not like the Digest very much.

It doesn't like Short Attention Span Theater very much either, as it can't figure out why I need a blog in addition to the site. "But Wallet," I say, "SAST is to the Digest as Headline News is to CNN."

The wallet squints back at me and says, "Did you just compare yourself to a TV channel that makes actual money?"

The wallet and I are not really on speaking terms at present.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Lucky Dog smells like a tar pit after his three lime baths (even after a shampoo!). I refuse to stop petting him though, even if the lime smell keeps rubbing off on me, too, because that dog got me through some hard times, yo.

Vladimir got much worse yesterday, but now he seems to be somewhat better. Still very worried about him. Also, he "no longer trusts Peter Jackson" after the Saruman kerfluffle of Monday and sounds heartbroken. I maintain that everything will work out all right.

It looks like Best Friend of Sister Girl may be pregnant... how do I say this tactfully, and in a way that doesn't buy into the sexism of "slut"? Because I wouldn't say that she is one. She's... very open and impulsive with her sexuality. Let's try putting it that way. And... it was an isolated incident, this rendezvous that resulted in two positive EPTs, so... yeah. Sister Girl spent all yesterday comforting her and so didn't get her home-schoolwork done, and Mrs. Owens was not happy this morning, and... sometimes I totally feel like Jane Austen tucked quietly in the corner of the sitting room, you know? I'm not writing about my own dramas, just observing other people's. (Isn't that an Irish curse, though? "May you have an interesting life"? Maybe I'm lucky.)

My own schoolwork: I did a quick Yahoo search (see? I haven't even gone to Google, the big guns, yet) on Philip Larkin, and mercifully there are people who, unlike me, had actually heard of him before. I might just survive this presentation after all. Oh, and I did remember to register, and so now I'm in fiction workshop, children's lit workshop, and American Lit (1820-1870) seminar. Woohoo!

Huzzah!

Nov. 10th, 2003 01:00 pm
cleolinda: (Default)
Let me tell you a little bit about Dr. Quinlan, who is awesome. He's Irish, and used to be a monk, but now he's married and has kid(s? not sure), and got his degree in Southern literature, and just emailed me back and said he'd give me the handout and let me turn the Heaney two-pager in next Monday, because he is awesome. Just so you know.

Although I still don't understand how we're on "Day 11" on the syllabus and not "Day 10" (see where the lack of dates was confusing me?).

So now, because Dr. Quinlan is awesome--holy shit, why are Sheridan and Luis in a Hansel and Gretel fantasy sequence with Beth as the witch... from the Wizard of Oz? Seriously, how much money did they splash out on that? Sorry, watching Passions--I get to catch up on my sleep, since I lay bolt awake staring at the ceiling until four o'clock last night, and I get to update the Digest, and I get a head start on the Larkin packet for Wednesday (which I just have to turn in--the presentation is for the next week), and I have a week to figure out what the hell some of those Heaney poems were about. They're not all as straightforward as "Digging," it appears. Did I mention Dr. Quinlan is awesome? Because he is.

Crap, I keep almost-forgetting: I have to register for spring classes online at 3pm. It's no big, except that I have to hit the "register" button at the stroke of three to get into some of these--thank God I'm a grad. Of course, if I didn't, I'd just go around and beg professors and get sigs until I did, and fortunately since I know both the workshop professors this time, we won't have a repeat of the unfortunate incident that began the semester ("I'm sorry, if you haven't had the previous class, you're not qualified. Get out." Suffice it to say the professor wasn't aware of the different requirements for grad students, and I ended up getting an email of apology).

(Dude, they're back to the Hansel and Gretel fantasy. This is too trippy, even for Passions.)

Speaking of Hansel and Gretel, here's what I'm taking: Fiction Writing Workshop (again), with the same professor as this time; Children's Literature Workshop, with my poetry professor; and some 600-level seminar to knock out another requirement. You know, I haven't taken much American lit; maybe I'll take that seminar. I could take Beowulf (I hear Vladimir screaming at me from another continent right now, TAKE IT! TAKE IT!!!), but then I'd have two 2-1/2 hour classes in one night, and--no. I'm getting my creative writing MA, in case you can't tell. Not that this is terribly marketable, but I was a Spanish major/French minor in undergrad, which was lovely and gave me a nice linguistics background, and I still do a little Spanish translating for my stepfather's company here and there, but by the time I was done I was determined to get a degree in something I actually wanted to do.

(How can Hansel and Gretel have a baby? Aren't they siblings? And how much did it cost Passions to get rip-off Wizard of Oz music? And why does the Beth actress have Meg Ryan fish lips--heeeee, Beth's mother is a giant chicken. That's awesome.)

So. Ought to get to work, then. Extreeemely anxious about my Black Ribbon workshop tomorrow night, because they're going to hate it. When I workshopped the first chapter, half the class was vocal (they mostly liked it, but had constructive things to point out, things they didn't understand and needed clarified, etc.), but the other half just stared sullenly. Not looking forward to Workshop 2: Electric Boogaloo. And my poor Lucky Dog is getting multiple lime baths today for his fungus. Poor baby. I miss my dog.
cleolinda: (Default)
Feeling very sad and loserish and wanky at the moment )

I'll live. End of wank. ;)

Completely unrelated: pretty bad headache; worst one I've had all week, actually. Not only is everyone I know sick, but now my dog is sick--Lucky Dog has a fungus. Vladimir says he is feeling better, fortunately.

Randomly watched The Secret Garden with Sister Girl today. I liked that book as a kid but hadn't seen the movie (although I was much more into A Little Princess--haven't seen that movie all the way through, either). Read more... )

Ought to write some more on my NaNoWriMo. Hell, ought to write some more on BR#4. Head hurrrrts.

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