Take a pill and...not THAT one!!!

A few years ago our Border Collie had a seizure in our kitchen. We didn’t know what to do, so I draped a towel over his body and held him still until it passed. The vet prescribed an anti-seizure medication and Bandit has been fine ever since. He loves getting the pills because they are always embedded in something tasty. He runs to the kitchen when he hears the pill bottle rattle.

One morning in January my wife was up really early and decided to give Bandit his medicine. Usually our son handles that job. She sliced a little hunk of cheese, pushed the pill into it, and then…SHE ate it!

She was still half-asleep and a little chunk of cheese is one of her favorite snacks. She didn’t realize what she’d done until she wondered by Bandit was looking her that way (“where’s mine?”). Fortunately, an anti-seizure pill for a 35 pound dog doesn’t cause a human any real problem. The good folks at Poison Control said she might feel a little tired, but it was nothing to worry about—they also said this happens fairly often.

They were right.

Last week my wife was again up early and again decided to give Bandit his pill. She stuck it into a small piece of hot dog and actually gave it to him. The problem this time was that she put HER prescription into the treat, not Bandit’s. This was a BIG problem!

We had to get a little peroxide into his stomach to get him to “give back” the pill. That was followed by doses of Gaviscon and Pepto Bismal (seriously) and more guilt than I’ve ever seen—and I was raised Catholic!!! The family was all over Bandit. It was one of his happiest days. My wife even cooked a special chicken and rice dish for him to make sure his tummy was okay. Many of you know I was sick last week and you can bet I was pampered too--I was offered a burger from McD's (yuck). LOL!

The messages of this post are:
1) Vow that you will never take or dispense medication unless you are fully awake;
2) Never take prescription medicine that’s not yours; and
3) Don’t look for any pampering if an adorable pet is sick the same time you are. ;P


PS - This reminds me of an old line about not sharing a stage with a dog act or a child (because you'll be upstaged), but I don't remember how it goes.

Taking Offense (One Less Card to Send)

Have I mentioned that I used to have a page on MySpace? I did a little blogging, but mostly played Mafia Wars and stumbled across one or two great people, like Mel. I followed her here to Blogspot and Ricademus was born--so please forward any complaints to her. ;P

I visited my old page tonight to dig out the post below. I don't have writer's block (hope I didn't just jinx myself), but I was thinking about the story and wanted to share it.

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Aug 10, 2008
Taking Offense

I learned a good lesson a few years ago. I had worked too late and needed to rush to catch the last train of the night (11:30pm). I was walking as fast as I could on the empty street, mostly looking down and still thinking about my work. A half-yell startled me out of my thoughts and I looked up to see a woman running up the street towards the subway. I started looking around to see what danger she was running from. I saw nothing, I was the only person on the street.

Suddenly it hit me, the woman was running from me.

I was annoyed. She was safer with me on the street than she would have been alone. I got a little angry--for about 5 seconds. That's how long it took me to realize she did exactly the right thing. She didn't know me. She needed to do what she needed to do to feel safe. The woman running had nothing to do with me personally, it was just a reflection of the fact that there are too many men (but really just a small percentage) who behave in ways that give men in general a bad name. The same is true of women.

Who can you trust?

It's no fun to not be trusted, but unless the other person knows you REALLY well, you can't take it personally. People HAVE to follow their instincts and do what they need to do to feel safe. So if a stranger is wary of you, don't be offended. Just make sure you don't do anything to give someone a real reason not to trust you.
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In addition to not being offended, don't think badly of the person who backed away from you. Better safe than sorry works both ways. So, look at it as one less birthdate you'll ever need to learn/remember and one less card you'll have to send. LOL!!!

Happy Monday

PS - Don't miss your chance to win free Herro Hachi merchandise!!!

You CAN Touch This (Giveaway)

Break it down. Stop, Herro Hachi time!
(Hey, it was either "Hammer" or "Howdy Doody" time)

In this case, what you can touch are shirts--and for one lucky winner, your choice of any item from Kym's Herro Hachi collection. Yep, it's Herro Hachi time.

If you want to participate, just leave a comment letting me know you're in. The giveaway is open to all of my current followers and the handful of regular commenters who so far have been too embarrassed to follow me publicly and have their tiny profile picture appear over there on the left. ;P

I'm always happy to get a new follower. But this giveaway is to show appreciation towards my bloggy buddies--for both visiting and making me feel welcome on your blogs. That's something I don't take for granted. This will come as a HUGE shock to you (*cough*), but I haven't been very well received by some bloggers. I know, shocking, right? (*cough, cough*) LOL, but I'm sure that happens to everyone at some point. You've all been blocked by one blogger or another, right? Right? Okay, probably not. It was a new experience for me this week. But I'm proud it only took two comments to make it happen. I didn't need a 3rd strike to be out on that blog. =)

Anyway, there will be multiple winners, so the odds are good that YOU will be one of them. Enter to show Kym how much you like her merchandise (and that she was wise to sponsor this event). When you win, I'll ask you to send your address directly to Kym and she will send out your prize.

The winners will be announced at the start of May, but the giveaway could close to new entries any second now. So go enter. Quickly!!!

PS - If I haven't commented on your blog lately, my excuse is that I've been sick (and busy harrassing that one blogger). I finished one antibiotic, but the bronchitis continues. So today I'm starting a new one along with steroids. Yuck!

Subway Tales I

I ride the Washington subway every workday, twice a day (at least). It’s safe, but when you ride it so often, things are bound to happen once in a while. That’s true almost anywhere (even in a Canadian desert). But my commute does take me through a bad neighborhood. On occasion there’s a dangerous situation, or a funny situation, or just something that makes me think. I’d like to share 3 incidents—the 1st one dangerous and the next 2 (in another post) made me think. Here’s the first:

It’s not unusual to encounter kids alone on the subway; DC provides a subsidy to students to help lower the need for school buses. Plus, once in a while you’ll see a class on a field trip. More often, you’ll see kids on unofficial field trips—skipping school and using their subway subsidy to get around. One morning a group of 17 year-olds (my guess) boarded the train. 2 girls and 4 boys. You could see 2 of the boys were jockeying for position to see who would get to sit with the cute girl. She crossed them both up, she sat next to me. One of the young men sat across the aisle from her and the other guy sat two seats ahead of us, but turned around so he could talk to her. Mostly the two fellows talked trash to each other, competing to impress the pretty girl. They threatened each other with all sorts of violence.

Normally I close my eyes during the morning commute to clear my mind. But I learned from my brother there are times to keep your eyes open. That morning was one of them—although, my fellow commuters all had their eyes closed, pretending not to hear the escalating noise. I found myself trying to get a read on the kids. Were they good kids putting up a front to fit into their neighborhood or was violence a real possibility? Soon I was drawn into the mix.

I noticed the boy in front of us was staring at me as he stroked his chin. He was thinking. When I see someone staring at me, I automatically return the look. It just happens. After a few long moments, the boy said to his friends, “I think I’ll have to take him out too. He might be a witness.”

Fortunately (sadly??), I’ve been in similar situations before. I followed my instincts. I smiled at the young man as if I was the most relaxed person in the world and decided to surprise him. I said, “You probably will. I have a good memory and make a great witness.”

Before I could see his reaction, his friends erupted with hoots, pointing and laughter. He looked embarrassed. Since the ice was broken, I asked the girl next to me where they were headed on their “field trip”. She giggled and said they were going to the Zoo. I told her I love the Zoo and suggested they check out the cheetahs. But my embarrassed friend wasn’t done. In an angry tone he asked, “What do you mean ‘you love the zoo’??? Zoos are for kids you bum.” Feeling the confidence I had faked earlier, I laughed and responded, “How did you know? I quit my job yesterday so I could be a bum. You must be psychic!!!” His friends reacted even more strongly this time.

At that point we were pulling into my stop. So while they laughed and pointed, I excused myself to the young lady (so she’d stand up and I could exit my seat) and got off the train. I admit I did look over my shoulder once as I approached the escalators—just in case. But I was lucky. Either I dorked my way out of trouble or those kids had not become part of the violence they saw so often.

PS - A funny situation: One night I worked late and encountered a "bum" on the train. It had been weeks since he'd bathed or shaved. I felt bad for him, but at that moment he was happy. He was very drunk and explaining something he'd read in the paper. According to some study, there were 3 eligible women for every 1 eligible man in DC. He told me, "I likes them odds!!!"

Knowing eligible girls were out there made him so happy!

Don't Blame Me

When my son was 10 months-old, my wife called to share an interesting story. She sounded a little down. She discovered something was already hard-wired into our little boy’s brain (and she didn't like it).

She had the kids in the grocery store—our son in the cart, with his sister standing guard. More than once she warned people to “don’t touch my baby brudder!” Such a good sister. =)

Anyway, a sweet, elderly woman (about 75) was completely captivated by the baby. She was smiling at him, coo’ing to him, trying her best to get his attention. At the same time, the 10 month-old was smiling, kicking his feet, and making sweet sounds himself. The little boy was doing everything he possibly could....to see past the nice elderly lady and get the attention of the (in my wife’s words) “hot young blond” standing next to her.

My son was 10 months old. Much to my wife’s disappointment, his reaction was not my fault (but she smacked me for it anyway). It was just nature at work.

Do I have a point? Yes. If you’re out and you notice your date, BF or spouse reacting to a pretty girl, I hope you’ll give him a good, hard smack on the arm!!! (Did you see that coming?) He should have more tack and self-control than a baby. His attention should be on you (as far as you know)—it’s not like we’re Neanderthals. Well, not most of us.

Oh, and if you see a little boy (any little boy) doing the same thing, hit your date, BF or spouse for that too. Why should I be the only one getting in trouble for what other people do??? ;P

PS – I reminded my wife of this story today (I wanted to confirm our son’s age at the time). She got mad all over again. She said something along the lines of, “What did you men do to my little boy???” I guess by “you men” she meant evolution. I can’t wait to see how she’ll react when he dates. I have a feeling then it will be, “Who do those girls think they are???” LOL!!!

Defend Your Castle (or Carry a Big Stick)

“I was born, six-gun in my hand.” (Edit: from "Bad Company")

Actually, I was born with a veil, but that’s another story—and I do my best to be “good company”. This story involves guns, but it’s silly, not dark. I promise.

Where I grew up, guns were common. You didn’t see them, but you knew everyone’s parents had them. Owning a gun to defend your home & family was like owning a lawnmower to cut your grass—except the grass always grew and no one ever broke into our homes??? But, the dads were prepared (just in case). I did a post once about my dad’s SWAT maneuvers (it's one of my favorites). They were false alarms, but we were prepared. Well, he was prepared. My job was to draw the bad guys’ attention. Cue the SWAT music. ;P

This story is about the first time I thought someone was breaking into my very own house in the middle of the night. Having been raised to be prepared, I owned a gun and knew how to handle it safely (part of my upbringing). Yes, I was prepared.

One night I heard the sound of glass shattering and thought it was my basement door. Did I call the police? No! I was prepared. I grabbed my gun and went to investigate. I crept down the stairs to the main level and paused to listen. Nothing. So I opened the basement door and made my way to the bottom of the stairs. I was silent, like a ninja. Unfortunately the steps made a terrible racket (creak, creak, creak). Anyway, I stopped two steps from the bottom to once again listen for the sounds of an intruder. But I heard something else.

I heard a *PING* (like I had dropped something), followed by the sound of something rolling on the step beneath me. I didn’t have time to worry about it; I had to “sweep” the basement. Thankfully everything was fine—and the door intact. So I investigated the “ping”. I discovered a tiny piece of metal on the step. It was cylindrical and maybe a quarter of an inch long. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Then I recognized it.

It was the FIRING PIN from the gun. It broke off and fell out!! The one time I might have needed it, it didn't work. Without its firing pin, a gun is just an oddly shaped paper-weight. I felt like Barney Fife (with his one bullet stuck in his pocket).

I took that experience as a sign. I didn’t repair the gun. So now when I need to investigate a strange sound, I take the roller from our paper towel rack (see how sturdy it is--like a 20 inch shovel handle). The most excitement I’ve had with the roller involved the police. At 2am one night I heard a woman wailing her heart out down the street. I grabbed my trusty shillelagh and headed out to investigate. The police arrived in the woman’s yard at the same time I did. I was relieved at the timing, until the officer placed his hand near his gun and ordered me to “drop the weapon”. Geez!

Next time I hear a noise, I’m going to go back to sleep and trust Bandit to handle it.

PS – No I won’t. I’ll HAVE to investigate…I'm too curious. =)

Just my imagination...

I don't like music videos. Well, that's not exactly right. I do like them when I watch them. My blog friends have recommended some terrific videos over the past year or so--and I hope you continue. But generally speaking, I prefer the pictures songs create in my mind versus what I see in videos. My imagination reflects what a song means to me, rather than what it means to someone else. It's personal.

Last month I shared with my wife what a particular song brought to mind for me. She told me I was wrong, because she'd seen the video and "that song is about a funeral." My interpretation was much more positive than the video.

Maybe it's like reading a book and then being disappointed when the movie version comes out.

PS - As noted above, my imagination is generally a pretty positive place. Not like Bender, the robot on Futurama. In one episode he talked in his sleep while dreaming. Repeatedly he said, "Kill all humans. Kill all humans." He woke up surrounded by his human friends and told them he'd just had "the most wonderful dream". Then, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, he informed them that, "You were there and you were there..." I can't believe they didn't disassemble him. =)