You look like the perfect fit for a girl in need of a tourniquet. But can you save me... from the ranks of the freaks who suspect they can never love anyone? Because I can tell you know what it's like, the long farewell of a hunger strike. But can you save me? Come on and save me. If you could save me from the ranks of the freaks who suspect they can never love anyone... but the freaks who suspect they can never love anyone.

Aimee Mann, "Save Me"

Adventures in Dish-Washing - Pt 1

I have never owned a dishwasher. Growing up,I was the dishwasher. (I was also the remote control, but that's another story all about the fine art of scooting and paths rubbed in carpeting.) I have only used one dishwasher without the assistance of someone else and that resulted in a flooded hotel room, so getting one for Christmas was a both thrill and a terrifying chance for soggy disaster.

In the last 2 weeks since it was installed, I have used it three times. That's not saying there weren't that many dishes in 2 weeks; there were plenty. It's been a learning process for both me and my 63 year old mother who has also never had and never used a dishwasher.

1. Because we never had to worry about things being dishwasher-safe, very few of our dishes are. Fate and my own clumsiness seem to be remedying this, however, because in the past 2 weeks I have broken 3 of our dinner dishes and cracked a couple glasses. Seems like sign enough to go dish shopping, don't you think? :)

2. You cannot test the dishwasher if there are no dirty dishes. My mother was taking dishes out of the dishwasher to wash them by hand. I have no idea why. There are plenty of other dishes she could have been using, but apparently she only wanted to use the survivors of of the set that I had been systematically dispatching.

3. Duncan is not afraid of dishwashers... or being locked inside them :-(

4. I don't care if you can steam a fish in one; you will not steam a fish in mine!

5. MY GOOD COOKWARE DOES NOT GO IN THE DISHWASHER!!! Feel free to toss in the crap sauce pans but leave my wooden handled wok, chefs knives and the set of saute' pans OUT.

6. Loading a dishwasher is an art unto itself. Much like Refrigerator-Tetris and Linen-Closet-Jenga.

7. Dishwasher-cleaned glasses are so shiny. I thought our glasses were spot-patterned. Turns out I was just shite at cleaning them.

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Been out of the loop for a bit, but I do have an update. As of last Monday (the 23rd, if my addled brain can recall correctly) there will be no more red meat, no more alcohol (at least if I want to continue to be able to take aspirin when needed, and when you get brain-cell killing migraines, it's needed), no more chocolate, and... even typing this brings sad little tears to my eyes... no more cheese! I think I'll miss you most of all, Sharp Cheddar. Also, no more stress... Fat chance, but hey I'm trying. I won't go into details but the blurb-version of it all is - 'Cause my callus, asshole doctor said so."

Considering the list, I've wasted the last 6 months learning French. :-(

So far I'm okay with it. I've even been able to lay off the sodas for the last 5 days (my one great addiction is Dr Pepper). But I feel that after a week or so of this I'll start going through the caffeine withdrawal DT's and then I'll just be a whiny, grumpy mess from the lack of cheesy goodness. I can survive the no chocolate part, as horrible as it may seem; I've done it before. But I feel the red meat and cheese thing just might push me over the edge,

Oh and to those people who keep pulling that "One little bite won't kill you.... here try this....do you want a giant chunk of Colby..." STOP IT!!!!! Geez, what's the point in trying to get healthier if all you're going to do is wave Muenster under my nose?

So to sum it up - Veggies good (which I'm already perfectly okay with); yummy-in-my-tummy moo babies and the delish items created from their byproducts bad.

If anyone needs me I'll be sniffing the deli bin and recalling all the fond memories of grilled cheese sandwiches and quesadillas that have been spawned there.

$140 later...

...and the clapping/whistling/finger-snapping vet agrees that he is either deaf or really, really stubborn. Ummmm.... Yeah. The vacuum cleaner told me that for free.

And as weird as this may sound, he seems to think in colors. For example -

My saying "No, Duncan; stop eating Conner's back foot" gets no reaction, but my saying the same thing while thinking 'YELLOW' seems to work. Saying "Duncan, food" while thinking "RED" makes him come running, and saying anything at all while thinking "BLUE" makes him go ape-shit.

Strange... for both of us. I think the large aspirin and the bottle of Wild Turkey with Honey may have played a large part in this experiment. I think this weekend's experiment will involve a color wheel and the bucket of margaritas in the freezer.

Duncan Update

He's new, he's deaf and he has odd eyes (one's staying blue and one's getting grayer. Here's hoping cats aren't as cruel as school children.

I'll be getting a second opinion from the vet some time this week, but it appears that Duncan is deaf. It's very well a genetic thing (pure white cat with blue eyes), and it doesn't make me want him or love him any less. He's a sweetie who loves to snuggle and loves everyone, even Pywhacket who only pretends she can't stand him. I'm thankful we found him, as well. Who knows what might have happened to him if he'd been left outside or one of the jackass neighbor kids had gotten ahold of him.

My mom adores him (she hasn't acted like this since Jay-Jay, her 13 year old bit of fluffy evil passed away). Conner has taken him under his care and has been teaching him how to be a proper slacker. Phi becomes a kitten again when Duncan's around and Pywhacket plays with him when she thinks no one's looking.

He's good for all of us, but it's hard enough getting a hearing cat to listen and obey. What do you do with a deaf, hyper-active kitten with the need to climb everything and have everyone and everything cuddle him?