Farewell to Dozer

This morning, my sister's sweet dog, Dozer, left us. He had been diagnosed with a sarcoma about four weeks ago, and Liz spent these few weeks giving him lots of TLC. After the doctors removed fluid from his pericardium at the time of diagnosis, Dozer was given a temporary lease on life - and had a good, happy four weeks. He was eating, playing, following Liz around the house - you name it. Slower, but otherwise normal.

On Friday night, Liz took Doz for a short walk to visit her neighbor, and he was absolutely exhausted afterwards, and had trouble breathing. He slept for four straight hours in the same spot, which was very unlike him. Liz called her ex-husband, Doug, and they made a plan to take Dozer to the vet first thing Saturday morning to end his suffering. And what timing they had.

On Saturday morning, Liz and Doug got Dozer into the vet's office, told the employees why they were there, and the doctor went off to ready everything. In the meantime, Dozer laid down on the office floor, and Liz sat down and pulled him over to he (he was a wonderful, immobile speedbump throughout his life). He took two breaths, and passed away peacefully.

We are very sad for Liz, but are happy that Dozer left this life as peacefully as he did. He will be very. very missed!

My ugly, ugly blog

I am working on it. This is what is in place until I apply some artistic genius to this rag! => Be patient... it may get uglier before it gets better!

Where Rory came from

Tonight, as I was telling Rory a bedtime story (typically involve Digit, who can escape the house and have wonderful adventures due to the benefit of having extra toes, which she uses to open the front door), Rory said something highly amusing (though she was dead serious).

First she asked where we got her (like the dog pound?). I answered, "from my belly!" And she said, "No, you got me at the girl store! You put me in a bag and brought me home!"

I decided not to argue. She was very insistent. =>

Another funny Roger-ism

From another saved email. Roger had such a silly sense of humor. And for the record, he did become a published author, thereby avoiding the fate he mentions below.

"When you're 15, you think you know everything; when you're 50 or 60, you've saved a few bucks and mastered the essential skills of living in an increasingly complex world (e.g., get your kids to program your remote for you). Then a few years later it hits you: I won't be around much longer and it won't make the slightest difference whether I'm a published author after my circuits shut off one by one and the blood pools in my lower extremities. 'Looks like he'd been watching a re-run of The Apprentice, detective. Just bored to death, I reckon. That would place time of death around 10:00 pm last Friday. Just scoop him into the body bag as best you can; these TV cases are pretty messy.'"

One year

One year ago, my stepfather Roger left us. It is kind of amazing to think that an entire year has passed. I am sure my mom and Roger's daughter, Lerryn, would agree. It seems like just yesterday, and at the same time it seems like much longer. It seems this way with everything in life, kind of. 

My mom and Lerryn are scattering Roger's ashes in the Bay area today, one of his favorite areas in the world, and the place he called home for decades. Born in England, Roger moved to the U.S. in high school. What I miss most is his truly marvelous sense of humor, and his big laugh. He loved to laugh, and had a doozie. It filled a room, and I can hear it now. => Roger was a scholar, was always curious about the world around him, loved crossword puzzles, conducted group therapy sessions for people with histories of domestic violence, and would always help anyone in a pinch.

Roger was also a marvelous writer. Not only did he write and publish a book, he was a wonderful email communicator. I saved many of his more amusing emails, and here is an excerpt from one in which he refers to a huge fire that ravaged the Sedona area a few years back:

"Did Mary tell you I dropped a big red rock on my big toe? That was over three weeks ago, just before the Brins Fire.  Then I aggravated it (the toe, not the rock) by helping a friend move lots of boxes from her house when she was forced to evacuate.  Got better, got worse.  Still soaking it and  smothering it with Arnica gel.  Mary drove me to my therapy group last week because I was crawling about the house, unable to walk (like riding a bicycle, it's a skill you don't forget). She has looked after me like a Florence Nightingale, bringing me water to soak my foot, giving me her shoulder to lean on - and her shoulder has been hurting, too. Makes me realize what a treasure I have in her."

I will find a post a few more Roger bits later today. Just know this - we miss him very much!

Fiona flashback

The weekend Fiona arrived, Valentine's Day of 2007, saw the entire East Coast slathered under a load of snow and ice. For once, D.C. got its fair share, and once Wee Fi arrived, Craig went to work turning our icy backyard into a Fiona-inspired masterpiece. This was a true labor of love for Craig: he used a hack saw to carve the 16" letters in the smooth and icy backyard, and it took several days to complete.

Our former neighbor, triplet mom Jeannie, remembers being on bedrest at home during that time. She and I recently chatted about our kids impending second birthdays, and this is what she had to say about the ice carving: "I still remember hearing the scraping outside when i was on bedrest - it was Craig writing 'Welcome Fiona' in the snow. :) I kept going to the window every couple of minutes when i realized what he was doing, and that the name of your new baby was going to be revealed!"

Fiona turns TWO!

Happy birthday Fiona! Today, Friday the 13th, Fiona and I are hanging out and causing a bit of trouble. => So far, it has been a great day. We bought her a trike, and a really fun toy. We are having some kids over to the local Generous George's tonight for pizza and a polar bear cake. In the meantime, here are two pictures from this morning.

Donna the hippo

Meet Donna the hippo, the latest addition to Rory's hippo collection. She was named after our good friend, Donna H-B. And isn't she cute and fuzzy? The hippo, not the friend. ;->

Caps lunchbox!

Look what a coworker gave me!!

Funny Rory comments as of late

Man, is she turning into quite a little character (as do they all). Following are three recently amusing bits that I want to write down so I don't forget them.

Episode 1: After a particularly sassy morning last week, I was strapping her into her car seat and explained to her why she needed to be less rude/more polite. She had been extremely rude to me and Fiona all morning. So here I am explaining this to her as I lean over her in the back seat, and when I am finished talking she *blows air out of her lips,* in a "yeah, whatever" sort of fashion. If only blogs could accurately capture the noise. In any event, I firmly explained that THAT was the type of thing that was considered rude, and she was not to make that noise again. So off we go to preschool, with her crying until about 2/3 of the way into the trip. When she finally calms down, I quietly explain to her why that noise was rude. And she does it again - loudly. And I yell again - loudly. She beaks into hysterical crying, and says, "I was only getting the air out of my body!!"

Episode 2: She needed to use the bathroom for, shall we say, a lengthier amount of time that usual. She went into the loo on our main level - which she uses all the time - and says to me, "I can't poop in here. It gives me a heart attack!"

Episode 3: We went to a friend's house this past Saturday night, and Rory hadn't napped that day. On the way home, she fell asleep minutes before we got into the driveway (naturally), and I had to wake her up because there is *no way* I can haul 40 pounds up two long flights of stairs... with Fiona tagging along behind me, sobbing (have I mentioned that Craig is out of town?). So we get upstairs and I get Rory ready for bed (she is in a quasi zombie state), and I put her into bed, saying that I need to get Fiona to bed and then I'll come back in and tell her some stories. I tuck her in (hoping she'll pass out, of course), and launch Fiona into la-la-land. I come back into Rory's room, and she is in her bed, crying a little bit. She complains to me that she had been lonely, and I apologized, saying, "It is very hard for Mommy because Daddy is in Massachusetts helping Nana with Granddad. If he was here, one of us could be with you, and one could be with Fiona. But it's just me, which is hard. I am sorry. Can you forgive me?" And she replied, "I forget you." And of course I almost fell out of the bed, it was so cute and funny.

That girl! I can't imagine what's next. =>