Keeping an Eye on Things

This past Thursday evening Jezebel’s right eye looked odd. I figured the sudden if subtle difference indicated swelling. After noting no change yesterday I called our veterinary clinic first thing this morning.

Lucky for us, someone had cancelled their 10:45 appointment. The clinic’s curbside service was excellent, by the way.

My assessment accurate, the conjunctivitis is mild and she suffered zero corneal damage. Whew!

In addition, following poor Tilly’s passing last September I kept her unexpired prescription feline eardrops. Intuition led me to dose Jezebel’s right ear last night, which was fortunate as the swelling ostensibly resulted as a byproduct from intense digging at her itchy ear. Jezzy’s doctor condoned administering tresaderm in both ears along with corticosteroid drops in her puffed eye.

On a comical note, I wrote a message from Jezebel’s imagined viewpoint regarding the whole thing. As well as providing additional information, I hoped to give beleaguered staffers a much needed giggle.

It read:


Hi, My name is Jezebel and I don't want to be here again, though it's been a while. I feel fine.


But Mom thinks my right eyelid looks puffy because my gray fur appears thin. I also have very itchy ears. Whatever...

I may be old but don't normally act like it. All my activities and habits are healthy. I use the litterbox, drink my water, even run around sometimes when I want attention.

My diet consists mainly of Sheba pate. Sorry, but I refuse to eat that Hill's prescription K/D kidney care, no matter what, despite enjoying it for a long time. Mom and Dad worry some, for sure. At least I have a healthy appetite!


Can I go home now?


(The post script mentions Tilly's eardrops)

Do you have any upcoming appointments? Are folks in your area adapting well to this new reality?

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Disturbed

Before delving into my usual silliness, I'd like to share a link to a fundraiser. As dear Strayer warned, images are disturbing. I averted my eyes from the poor kitty's disfigurement because I'm a wimp. ~shakes head~ Please donate if you are able.

Meanwhile, back to my goofy look at life in Southwest Ohio. Oh, and only in retrospect after updating this post, did I realize this poor animal's plight fits my title. It's odd how things happen.
 
Anyway, on the bright side, our yard is bustling with springtime activity. The other morning I mowed the back lawn, then hooked up the garden hose to clean the mower’s undercarriage. Beneath the shade of my horse chestnut tree, chore complete, I studied the tidy nest above.
 
To my delight, four or five beaks rose, opening and closing in hopes of a feed. It occurred to me that my presence, not to mention the noise, must have disrupted the dedicated mother robin. And our hose no doubt looked like a snake.
 
I wasted no time storing everything away and clearing out. Inside looking out the window, I was rewarded with sight of mama bird flying up to her offspring, a fat bug in her bill. But another development disturbs my poor husband.
 
Years ago I brought home a cute, tropical looking specimen the seller called ‘snake plant’ due to its interesting stem pattern. The thing struggled until I happened to see the same fellow at that garden center and he recommended a shadier spot. From one little pot its transplanted corms have since filled the space between our front door and weeping crabapple tree. And then we started to see blossoms emerge.
 
That doesn’t sound bad, now, does it? But one common name for amorphophallus konjac is ‘corpse flower’. The bloom, meant to attract and capture insects, smells like rotting flesh. Our home improvement contractor actually posed the question one spring, asking what had died. And this May we have a record eight flowers.

Can you see all eight?

My guy now dreads some delivery person calling the authorities until they wilt back and make way for its striking foliage. While I think the average person will simply go on with his or her busy day, the thought is a bit disturbing. It’s weird how I end up growing pervasive stuff like this and the menacing prickly pear cacti while my daylilies and creeping phlox disappeared into the ground.

What are the odds I’d plant this right next to my front door? Would you find such a stench suspicious enough to call the police?
 

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Foiled – A Righteous Backfire

My husband craved barbecue the other day, especially the joint’s sweet corn ‘pudding’ casserole. He ordered two tubs this time, as previously he didn’t get his fair share. I, uh, sort of polished off the remainder before he had a chance at seconds.

~grin~

In addition to ordering double, he teasingly marked his first initial upon one plastic cover. Well, I couldn’t let that stand without a retort. After he retired for the evening, I put my initial on both cap and Styrofoam cup, spooned a hefty portion from mine, and then swapped lids.

Be aware I never intended to truly misguide the poor guy. In between I stuck a facetious 'warning', a near confession.
 

Seemed pretty clear to me...

Well, my note somehow proved too vague and confusing. Still half asleep the next morning, he also overlooked the additional large blue pen mark. Chuckling over my gag, he proceeded to served himself a little breakfast bowlful out of mine.

So, yeah, it totally backfired. I had a good laugh at my own expense and he, ever the proverbial Boy Scout, offered some of his. I think I should decline his offer.

Don’t you agree? And are you familiar with any variant of this sweet/savory guilty pleasure?

 
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Misappropriation

The word chosen for my title usually refers to financial misconduct. But Liz A.’s Cinco de Mayo misadventure reminded me of time and money wasted on a long past yet unforgettable disappointment.

Both Mississippi Delta blues music fans, my husband and I traveled over a hundred miles to Indiana’s oldest blues bar and legendary nightspot, The Slippery Noodle. We arrived that evening, show tickets in hand, to discover massive crowds and no available parking. I never considered the month’s significance or that a downtown Indianapolis sports stadium hosted a March Madness basketball game.

Somehow I navigated around countless inebriated pedestrians and found a free spot several blocks from The Noodle. Relief lasted only until we discovered the place packed with still more intoxicated sports fans. Waitresses were so overwhelmed that we could hardly order a drink, let alone the anticipated meal.

At long last served, we relaxed upon seeing the musicians set up. But after a few tunes the performers met with what appeared to be a club manager and, overwhelmed by drunken hecklers, surrendered the stage to a giant descending screen. I imagine management feared a destructive riot.

My husband and I left our table to the screaming fanatics. At my request, he went in search of a (much needed) cocktail while I headed to the ladies room.

On my way I found the headlining band on a second stage. At last! Unfortunately, another sound system interfered further, broadcasting the stupid game at ear splitting decibels.

I cannot imagine how the artists must have felt. They acted calm and cool. My husband and I were outraged that the place turned into a sports bar. Disgusted, we crashed at our hotel, drove home first thing the next morning, and never returned.

Have you ever been annoyed by a sports event preempting a television broadcast? Can you imagine if professional half-time musicians would not allow the Super Bowl to resume? And here’s a dumb final question: do you think my emailed bewilderment received a response?

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Lucky Break

Having learned the benefits of UV light sterilization for aquariums, I purchased a recommended brand. This model reportedly has the most replaceable parts and works well despite an early issue with excessive bulb heat melting some plastic components. Yikes.

The Sunsun JUP-02 provides ideal flow for a 29 gallon tank.

I first needed to lower the water level to accommodate the surprising bulk. Now it's installed and running as I type, but a disaster almost happened during the installation process. In the image below I'd already lowered the water level from the very brim (!) of my bucket. It took an effort to patiently dip without spilling more than a few drops. Whew!

The bucket sits atop my (insufficient)
plastic drop cloth. Disaster averted!

My husband saw me bailing water later but I spared him the exact reason why. Sometimes, he's better off not knowing my stupider stunts. ~shakes head~ And I didn't lie, wanting to further reduce the bucket's weight by that point.
 
Can you believe I came so close to flooding the carpet? Though this carelessness never occured before, should I place some sort of overflow tray under the bucket?

 
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