Well, at least we tried.

Rest in peace, Santa Claws. Your injuries were too much for you to overcome. Perhaps if you had not been so dehydrated or starved, you would have had a fighting chance. But six broken ribs and a skull fracture combined with the rest proved to be too much. At least you were loved at the end. You were only with us a short time, but we miss you already. Be at peace.

Christmas miracles come in all sizes, shapes

and colors. In this instance, the orange ginger tabby variety.

Today, The Husband and I were just settling down for our long Winter's nap at about 2 in the afternoon. About half an hour into it, the dogs started going crazy outside (there arose such a clatter?). We couldn't see what was going on, so we sprang from our bed to see what was the matter.

Through the bamboo, we could see this orange, um, thing making it's slow way through. "A cat! Call off the dogs! And grab a towel! And some gloves! I think it's hurt!" was the message from The Husband.

We gather a few things up and try to head on in for a closer look. The poor thing is moving slowly and gingerly through the brush. Eventually, The Husband and I close in and we wrap it in a towel and pick it up.

The cat was skin and bones. In all my years of watching the Animal Cops program, I have seen animals this starved and always feel terrible for them. It is NOTHING seeing it on TV compared to seeing it in person. The poor thing's eyes were sunk into its head from dehydration and starvation. The hipbones were in sharp relief. I have never seen an animal look like this that wasn't already dead.

Worried that this cat was possibly sick, we stuck him in the greenhouse/future sewing room. It's a warm room in the day and is easily heated at night and perfect to help us assess what was going on. Food was not high on the cat's priority list, but water? That it couldn't seem to get enough of.

After it warmed up some, The Husband and I put on the gloves again to try and examine it. Was it sick? Or just abandoned and starving? Or something else?

The verdict: car. This cat appears to have been hit by some sort of vehicle. His skull shows an impact point, and he has several broken ribs. While he obviously can walk, he is not terribly comfortable in the hindquarters, so who knows what's going on back there. He had to have been hit by a car, but not completely run over and was thrown to the side of the road. Somehow, he has survived this long since then. His coat is still pretty, so it's obvious that he was somebody's darling at some point in the recent past. He loves attention and he struggles to purr, but it just can't come out. He's got the fight and the will to live, even if his body looks like it just crawled from the grave. We're going to give him medical attention to help him out, and and warm place to recover. I hope it will be enough. If it's not, at least he won't die out in the cold and all alone.

But the quesiton is this. How on earth did this cat manage to get onto our property? We're fenced in. No cat in this bad of a condition could possibly make it up and over the fence - even without the starvation and dehydration factor being there. Broken ribs and messed up hind quarters arent' too conducive to jumping or climbing. There's no hole in the perimeter of the fence - we had the girls check just to make sure. We're off the beaten path by at least 2.5 acres in all directions, so it's not like someone would just decide to dump the cat over the fence if it was found by someone.

The Husband has proclaimed this an Act of God. He's a bit stunned that he's so concerned about this poor feline. But frankly, I think The Husband cursed himself. I really and truly do. After years of being cat-free and anti-cat, he had a momentary lapse of reason (he's claiming temporary insanity), and BAM! We were the proud caretakers of a tiny kitten. The kitten, who has been named Spike, has grown hale and hearty, and aside from a bout with ringworm that he came with unbeknownst to us and is currently conquering with daily fungicide baths, he's the spunkiest kitten alive. After swinging back and forth between "we aren't keeping him" and "okay, we'll keep him," it's been finally settled that yes, Spike's permanent home is here with us.

And now, there's this cat. Already the proclamation has been put forth. His name is Santa Claws, and if we manage to nurse him back to health, he stays too - barring the possibility of finding his owners.

Cause once you're named, you're in the family for life. Get well, Santa Claws!

Alphabetical Meme

Blatantly stolen from Marybeth.

A- Available or single? So very not available.
B- Best Friend? The Husband.
C- Cake or pie? Cake. Caaaake!
D- Drink of choice? Hrm. Lately it's been fruit punch-flavored Crystal Lite. But overall? Coca Cola. It's just not on the menu now.
E- Essential item I use every day. Computer.
F- Favorite color: Purple.
G- Gummy Bears or Gummy Worms? Bears. Worms are icky copycats.
H- Hometown? Ridgecrest, California.
I- Indulgence: Quilting fabric. Or a Sephora shopping spree. Or a massage. They all work.
J- January or February? January. It's a new start in a new year.
K- Kids and names: Two girls - Thing One and Thing Two.
L- Life is incomplete without? Love.
M- Marriage date: April 2, 1994, July 21, 2000, June 24, 2006. We have this thing about getting married a lot. Nine more times to go and we'll have an anniversary every month! Hee!
N- Number of siblings: One brother, two sisters.
O- Oranges or apples? Apples.
P- Phobias or fears? Heights. Don't like them. At all.
Q- Favorite quote? It is the Glory of God to hide a thing, and the honor of kings to seek out such a thing.
R- Reasons to smile: My family. My animals. So very many more things as well.
S- Season: Rain.
T- Tag 3 or 4 people. Not my style. Sorry!
U- Unknown fact about me: I flunked out of college my first try. I was suffering from clinical depression and didn't know it.
V- Vegetable you don’t like: Brussel sprouts.
W- Worst habit: Surfing the 'net on company time.
X- X-Rays: Um, I've had lots? But never for a broken bone. Broken tooth yes, but no bones.
Y- Your favorite food? Chicken a la Providence.
Z- Zodiac: Virgo

Five months

Today marks five months since I've had the Duodenal Switch. While my weight loss wasn't as good as I had hoped for the month - 9 total pounds bringing me down to 238 - the inches that I have lost more than make up for it in my book.

Last month, The Husband had me try on some jeans to just get a guestimate of where I was clothes-wise. I fit into a 24 or a 22, depending on the brand. Not too bad, considering I started at a 26-28, and it seems that when you're on this high of the scale, that it takes a lot of poundage in order for the numbers to go down. But I still wasn't going to buy any new clothes because it just wasn't worth it to me to spend the money. So I've been slogging along in my old clothes, watching them puddle up and nearly fall off me.

This weekend, we went to Lane Bryant in the mall in Palmdale. I desperately needed some new bras, and The Husband wanted to convince me to get a few new pieces to look nice at work with. Okay. I'll at least try some stuff on.

The bra fitting went better than I had anticipated. I'm now at a 42DD, down from a 44/46 DD/DDD, depending on the brand. The girls are much happier in their lifted state, and I'm not as depressed anymore about how much I have been appearing to lose from there.

But jeans. Oh, the jeans. I was going to go for a 22, but the sales lady stopped me cold. "No way," she said. "You're a 20 at the most." And yep. They fit me like a glove. And no, they're NOT stretch! Hooray!

Shirts? I'm an 18/20 there. Although I think I prefer to have a shaping undergarment beneath it all so that the fluffy rolls that have made their appearance don't show through. Needless to say, I bought Spanx Higher Power for those special occasions.

We also bought some lovely beaded chiffon separates and some satin skirts to make me a fancy-dancy outfit. And the waistband is such so that I can take it in when necessary and make the most out of the skirts. Bonus!

While I didn't get a whole bunch of stuff, they were pieces that are showcasing what I have done for myself through this surgery. And I think I'll be less resistant to picking up the occasional new outfit here and there along the way down the scale now that I've seen that yes, I actually can look good again.

When I came out of the fitting room to show off the outfits I was trying on, I nearly cried at the look I saw in The Husband's eyes. The woman he married is slowly but surely making her way back to him. And both of us are thrilled at the prospect.

Here a cyst, there a cyst!

Everywhere a cyst, cyst!

Yeah. It's a hemorrhagic cyst. Which is normal for ovaries, seeing as how they are what release eggs and whatnot. However this one is fairly large, and bled a bunch more than normal. So, I'm off to a regular GYN to get, ummm, GYN'ed.

My choice in this area is between two doctors: Dr. C or Dr. M. My PCP didn't refer me specifically to one or the other, but gave the old, "well, you know Dr. M is the more up-to-date of the two" spiel to me.

Not that it was a choice for me anyway. You see, Dr. C? Well, he delivered me. Yeah. That. I have no desire for the man who looked at my mother's nether regions for four births to look at my nether regions. I'm a little bit wierd that way.

So I now have another appointment for next Wednesday in the morning to see Dr. M. Then, The Husband and I will be traveling out of town to see a new doctor about his knees. The doctor he was seeing here locally? Yeah, he got fired from the clinic and is going back to his regular position down south. And he's been screwing things up for The Husband with all the stuff he has to do for work to document this thing. We were Not Pleased with him, so this was actually a blessing in a way.

Doctor's appointments all around! Cheers!

Ow. . . . OW! The hell?

Yeah. Pain. My favorite thing. Not. And I've got a wierd one.

I've always been the kind of girl to actually be able to feel her eggs release. Seriously. Not every month, mind you, but often enough that I can identify the precise type of pain that this involves. It a very short, sharp pain that lingers for a tiny bit while dying away. Then, nothing. And two weeks later I get my period. Viola!

When I was on birth control, of course this particular pain went away. But the minute I was off either the BC pills or after the depo shot wore off, BAM! There it was again. I feel it more often on my left side than not for some reason.

Anyway, I felt the usual twinge last Friday. All is well and good. There is no way that little egg is getting to my uterus so life is just peachy! The pain aftershock is lasting a little bit longer than normal, but no biggie, right? Not so fast, slick!

Saturday, I start to roll myself out of bed and BLAMMO! It feels like somebody is jabbing a knife into my body right at the same place my egg release pain was at the day before. Holy crap! I collapse back onto the bed and scare the living piss out of The Husband. He immediately thinks that I've gone and given myself a hernia, but the pain gradually goes away in about two minutes, so I'm of a mind to blow it off. I just pulled a muscle wrong. Life goes on.

While life did go on, throughout the day if I twisted the right way, I would get a pain in the same area. Not as intense as the one in the morning, but still very noticeable. Ow. The Husband's getting more and more nervous. But then the pains stop and all is well.

Sunday, I got up from bed, a bit more gingerly than normal, and all was quiet in the lower pelvic region. Then, as I twisted to get into the car to go to church, again with the pain. The Husband wants to know if we should go to the ER and I'm all, "no, no, no. This is NOT an emergency. I'm not bleeding, not in constant pain. I'm fine. The end." But I do promise him that I'll make an appointment the very next day to be seen.

Throughout the day, the area is at a very dull ache level. I know it's there, but it's not terribly annoying.

Monday rolls around, and I call and get an appointment to see my PCP on Tuesday. Today. So I went in and ended up getting a pelvic exam. Just peachy. Love that KY jelly! Ew. But yeah, there is definite tenderness/pain in the area of the left ovary that is not occuring when the right one is palpated. Got to check it out.

So, tomorrow I get to go have an ultrasound. Yay me!

The moral of this story is: take a family history of ovarian cysts (mother had to have all of one ovary and 95% of the other removed because of huge cysts; sister had to have emergency surgery to remove even larger cyst), add loads and loads of estrogen being released from fat cells and stir. End result? Pain. Not fun pain.

We'll see what the ultrasound reveals. Best case scenario? This is all in my head and I just need to be medicated. Worst case scenario? Another operation. Most likely scenario? I get to go back on birth control. Joy. I got a tubal ligation so that I never had to take the damn stuff again. Grrr. They're a small part of why I got fat in the first place. But then again, slower weight loss versus pain, and possible emergency surgery. I think I'll take the damn pill and be done with it.

Hey, maybe I could get Seasonale and not have so many periods. That would be a plus! Silver linings. They lurk everywhere.

In an attempt to jump-start my holiday spirit

I'm going to answer some questions that were on both Marybeth's and Alison's blogs. Maybe it can keep me from being my normal Grinchy self this time of year.

20+ Holiday Questions

Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?

Love them both. I make a great home-made egg nog, one that you can either spike or not (and more people than not actually want their nog un-spiked I have found). But I also love the store-bought thick crapnog and there's nothing better than a mug-full of hot chocolate to give you that special chocolate buzz with a hint of peppermint. Mmmmm.

Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?

Wrapped. The only exception being the stuff that gets put inside the stocking. Or maybe a stuffed animal. Okay, both wrapped and unwrapped.

Colored or white lights on tree/house?

I don't care so long as it's one or the other. Nothing bugs me more than trees/houses with both white and colored lights on them. Coordination, people! Coordination! Oh, and no blinking lights! Especially when one strand blinks and then another. Have them go in running relays if you're going to have them blink. Ugh!

Do you hang mistletoe?

I'm not particularly fond of parasites, but mistletoe does have its uses. But to answer the question, no, not really. It's just another dead thing in my house.

When do you put your decorations up?

Here's where I become the Grinch. Christmas decorations (with the exception of the Advent Calendar and the Advent Wreath) do NOT go up until Christmas Eve. Decorations then come down on Epiphany, Jan 6. Period. End of Story. It's not Christmas until then, so why put up decorations until then? This is how we always did it growing up. From others I have spoken to, this is a German tradition, which makes sense for my family to follow seeing as how both sides are heavily German. I mean, when you have a town in Alsace/Lorraine that one of your family's names is from, hello! You're German! And no, I don't acknowledge France's occupation of that area. It's German, thankyouverymuch! But for The Husband, Christmas decorations should go up immediately after Thanksgiving. Ugh. Too much crap out for far too long, IMO. So, we've kind of come to a compromise on this. We didn't put up our tree until yesterday. I'll grumble about it, but I can live with it.

What is your favorite holiday dish (non-dessert)?

Hrm. This is a hard one. I think I'll have to settle for my mother's hearty winter soup. It's got keilbasca in it, and is definitely a great meal on it's own or a side dish.

Biggest Christmas peeve?

Again with the ranting here. I hate obnoxious Christmas music. Like the stuff all the modern musicians have done "jazzing" up all the old standards. It didn't need your help, buddy. Quit ruining the melody of Little Drummer Boy, mmmkay? You can't even sing along with them! Feh. And don't start playing that crap until the middle of December, either. When I turned on my radio the day after Thanksgiving and the station was playing some of the afore-mentioned Christmas tunes, I wanted to puke. Those that start playing it before Thanksgiving need to be firebombed. 'Nuff said.

What is your favorite holiday dessert/treat?

Aside from eggnog, I have to say the Busch d' Noel. Chocolate-y and creamy goodness all dressed up to look like a wooden log. Brilliant! I need to try to make my own this year I think. And if I could ever find them again, there is this bakery that makes these German anise-flavored cookies that are the cat's meow. My Grandfather was the one that always bought them and I never knew where he got them from so I'll have to figure out someway to get them. Kind of difficult seeing as how I don't even know what they're called. Aaargh.

Favorite holiday childhood memory?

The whole decorating the house on Christmas Eve day. And then the days when we would get to invite a friend over and we would either make taffy or make a gingerbread house. The best!

Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?

All gifts are opened on Christmas Eve in my family - again, a German tradition. Then Santa/stocking gifts on Christmas Day. For The Husband's family, they open one gift on Christmas Eve and then everything else on Christmas Day. So now we do the one gift/all gifts thing. It really makes no difference in the end, right?

Garlands or Tinsel?

Showy and overdone. Tinsel only ends up coming out of the butt of the cat and garlands are just overdone drivel. Now a string of pretty beads is okay, but the big frou-frou stuff has got to go.

Snow: Love or Hate?

Love it. Don't get enough of it. That's the problem with living in a desert.

Can you ice-skate?

Never attempted. Yet.

Do you remember your favorite gift?

Last year The Husband bought me a pachinko machine. While it's not one of the old-fashioned ones and is instead very modern electronic, it still makes the same tink-tink-tink sounds that I'm addicted to from my childhood and I could play it for hours. There's also a whole story attached to it about how it finally got here that I'll share another day.

What's the most important thing about the holidays to you?

Being together with the ones you love.

What is your favorite holiday tradition?

Putting out your shoes for St. Nicholas on Dec. 6. Creeping out of bed in the wee hours of the morning to make St. Lucia rolls for mom and dad on Dec. 10. Midnight Mass. Shall I go on?

What tops your tree?

Well, I've never found the perfect star or angel, so right now a silly needlework angel that The Husband's grandmother made is on top of it. It helps him remember the good times with her and that's more important than something fashionable or outre.

Which do you prefer, giving or receiving?

Definitely giving. I'm not good at receiving gifts at all. Hate it.

Favorite Christmas song?

This is a hard one. I love Little Drumer Boy and Adeste Fideles. But I have to say that my favorite is Hark, The Herald Angels Sing. And only because we sang a kick-ass arrangement of it in my college choir.

What do you want for Christmas?

This year my list is topped by two things: a new tattoo and a new ear piercing(s). Body modification is the way to go for me this year. Hee! As much as I hate making gift lists, I sat down and wrote one out for The Husband to help him out. I've got a few books on there, a few DVDs (Gilbert & Sullivan and Dr. Who - never say that I'm not original!), and a few quilting books/tools. No clothes this year, thank you. Save that for next year when I'm (hopefully!) at goal.

Again with the lateness on things. I was tagged.

Crimeney. Thanks, Alison. I think. Then again I did need something to jar me back into blogging more frequently - no Holidailies or NlahBlahPlahMlah for me!

Rules:

People who get tagged need to blog about 6 weird things about themselves. Then they need to list the names of 6 people they're tagging to do the same (I think I'm going to break this one. Heh!). They'll also need to leave a comment on the blogs of the the people they've tagged, telling them they're tagged and directing them to read the blogs to learn about the game (Breaking this one, too. Double Heh!). (Got that?)

6 Weird Things About Me (Can I come up with that many?):

• I know how to castrate a pig and have done so. Using logical extrapoliation, this means I also know how to castrate a human. Scary, no?
• I can recite all of the prepositions in the English language. This is thanks to my grandfather who had me memorize a poem with all of them in it when I was eight. I remember it to this day.
• I can read Gregorian Chant - and sing it to you if you like as well. It's not terribly dissimilar to modern musical notation but it just looks a whole lot more complicated than it is.
• I have had personal experience with the paranormal. And it's an experience I do not ever wish to experience again.
• I placed first in oration at Latin Convention in High School. I sang (in Gregorian Chant!) the Dies Irae instead of reciting something typical by Ovid or Caesar.
• I have a mole in a very, um, private place. If it was on my face, it would be in the perfect position for a beauty mark a la Marilyn Monroe.

So, I'm never on time. Sue me.

Yeah, so, I'm not so good at posting when I say I will. What can I say? Life goes fast. I'm just trying to keep up.

Anyway, about that cute kitten story . . .

Since there was no mama cat with her nice, cozy box to keep an eye on the kitten, we had to improvise to keep the little guy safe at night. A laundry basket was way too easy to get out of. I didn't have a big enough box. But I did have a big stock pot!

Add a hot pad and some towels, and you've got a nice little cozy nest fit for a pampered kitten. It worked, and the little demon couldn't get out of it.

The Husband was not privy, however, to my ingenuity until he came in to use the bathroom. The kitten had been put in the stock pot and then the stock pot was put inside our large garden tub in the master bath. If for some reason he managed to get out of the stock pot, I figured there was no way he could make it up the slippery sides of the garden tub.

So The Husband comes in and uses the bathroom. He comes back out to where I am cooking dinner. He takes off my glasses. And then starts pushing and prodding the skin around my eyes - stretching it up and to the sides. Finally I ask him what in the sam hill he thinks he's doing?

"I'm making sure you haven't turned Oriental on me. You have a cat in a stock pot! Are you planning on having him for dinner?"

Hee! No, I have not turned "sranty-eyed" as one of my friends of Chinese descent calls it. Just being ingenious. I mean, really. What is more cute than a tiny kitten in a stock pot? Not much, let me tell you! Could YOU resist that sweet little face? Didn't think so.

We still haven't really decided if we're going to keep the little guy or not. If we do, he will more than likely be named Finster. When The Husband and I first got together, one of my cats was named Finster, but he got out one day and we were never able to find him. I miss that cat to this day. He was definitely one of the special ones. This little kitten may be able to take his place in my heart. It'll be good no matter what we decide to do. What's one more mouth to feed around here?