5/8/09 (Friday)

Attention, people with mad graphic design skillz! Reader Anita has a family member who has been diagnosed with Inflammatory Breast Cancer – some of you may have heard of IBC, but it’s not nearly as well known as the breast cancer we always hear about. You won’t find a lump because it doesn’t present itself … Continue reading “5/8/09 (Friday)”

Attention, people with mad graphic design skillz!

Reader Anita has a family member who has been diagnosed with Inflammatory Breast Cancer – some of you may have heard of IBC, but it’s not nearly as well known as the breast cancer we always hear about. You won’t find a lump because it doesn’t present itself that way. Most women who are diagnosed with IBC find out when they’re already in Stage IV. There is NO Stage V. It can look like a rash, or a bug bite, so many women pass it off. It’s very aggressive, and the prognosis isn’t good.

Anita started up a web site for Sherri, We Love Sherri, and they’re looking for someone to design a banner/ logo so that they can get a Cafe Press store up and running.

This is where you talented graphic designers come in! The only design elements they’ve come up with so far are:

1. a Berry (we call her Sherri Berry)
2. a pink ribbon

She says, Sherri is not working right now b/c she’s so sick, and she’s got 2 kids. We’ve had a couple of charity events for her, but of course, they don’t bring in a ton of money. I don’t imagine the t-shirts, mugs, etc will either, but I feel like I need to do something- anything. It’s all very sad and awful….

Who’ll help out? Email welovesherri (at) gmail (dot) com

And, thank you!



So, yesterday afternoon I settled down and watched Lost, and then it was almost time for Fred to get home from work, so I wandered back to my computer and checked my email. I had an email from the shelter manager, letting me know that the woman who’d cleaned at PetSmart yesterday morning had found, well, let’s just say that the litter box was not up to par. It sounded like it was quite the mess, and of course with four kittens using the same litterbox, it’s hard to tell who’s having the problem, so I left immediately to go to the pet store and pick them all up.

On the way, I called Fred and asked him to call the vet and see if I could get the four of them in before they closed for the day. He called me back and said I could take them in at 4:30 (which gave me 50 minutes to get to the pet store, box them up, and get to the vet), or today at 9:30. I opted to try to get them there at 4:30, somehow stupidly secure in the knowledge that I could get to a place that takes me 25 minutes to get to, box up four kittens, and drive to a place half an hour from there IN RUSH HOUR TRAFFIC with no problem at all.

I got to the pet store, and the boys were all flopped out in their cage, sound asleep. I opened the cage door and they were all “Hi! What new adventure are we going on today?!” I put them in the carrier, and we were on our way.

Did I mention it was RUSH HOUR? I dithered about which way to go to get to the vet – my two choices were to drive back into Madison and drive up a slow country road with 3 million stop signs and stop lights, or to hop on the highway formerly known as Rideout Road (I don’t remember what they call it these days) up to highway 53, which is a straight shot to the Tennessee border, where the vet is located.

I opted to take the highway and did I mention it was RUSH HOUR, where no one’s in a hurry and everyone feels free to mosey along at 20 miles under the speed limit? I was stressed, to say the least, because I couldn’t call the vet’s office and let them know I’d be late, because OF COURSE my phone (which I hadn’t charged earlier in the day despite my full knowledge that it needed charging) was dead, and I don’t own a car charger (a situation I intend to remedy later today).

The entire drive from the pet store to the vet, Ezra exercised his lungs, and that boy has some POWERFUL lungs. He was occasionally joined by the other boys, but most of the singing was done by Ezra alone.

Look, I made a video to share the pain!

Turn up your sound as high as it will go, put your ear right up to the speaker and then drive a screwdriver into your other eardrum, and you might approach the level of pain I was feeling. And speaking soothingly to them didn’t help at all – in fact, as you’ll notice in the movie, when I say “I know, baby,” they just get louder.

I made it to the vet’s office about 15 minutes late (I hate hate HATE being late for anything, it makes me feel like a self-important douchebag who thinks the world revolves around her.) and apologized profusely. They took a fecal sample from Phinneas (the line of thought being that if one’s got something, they should all, since they share such close quarters), tested it for everything under the sun, and found nothing at all. The vet said the diarrhea could be caused by a diet change or the stress of being in a cage, or who the hell knows?

So I brought them home, Ezra singing the entire way, and put them in the foster kitten room. Beulah and Bessie followed me up to the room to see what exactly was going on, and I let them in the room too. It was like those boys never left – Bessie immediately jumped on Caleb, and Phinneas jumped on Beulah.

I spent some time in the kitten room yesterday evening, and Phinneas and Caleb were kind enough to demonstrate that the litterbox issues didn’t come from THEM, so I’ll be leaving in a little while to take them back to the pet store. There were litterbox issues overnight, so I’m going to say that one or both of the buff boys are the problem. They’ll be here at the very least for the weekend while I try to get them over whatever’s going on with them.

And this entry would be longer, but I’ve got kittens to return to the pet store and errands to run, so I’m outta here!

2009-05-08 (1) 2009-05-08 (2)

2009-05-08 (3) 2009-05-08 (4)

2009-05-08 (5) 2009-05-08 (6)

2009-05-08 (7)



2008: Things that give me the blerghs
2007: Fred was PISSED because he’d been harboring a secret yen to stay in the Shalom in the Home trailer park, and he stomped off to sulk, thus making Nance and Rick uncomfortable and not in the mood to play Catch Phrase.
2006: I ran out the back door, yelling the entire way for Tommy to “Drop it! Drop it, Tommy! DROP IT!”
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: It’d certainly be interesting, at least until it came to blows, I’m sure.
2002: Of course, the mother of the bride is a total sobbing mess.
2001: My butt hurts.
2000: I meant to pick up the razors for Women with Big Asses.