Bloggin' Fool - or - Once Again, Your Tax Dollars At Work!

Yes, it appears I'm back to my old multi-posting ways. Hey, it's been a slow week at work. Really slow.

It boggles the mind - but does not shock, alas - that someone in the federal government seems to be trying to find ways to blame environmentalists for the flooding after Katrina. What, you mean the environmentalists were warning that the degradation of the wetlands due to oil drilling, channel cutting and water diversion could lead to flooding? It must have been a smoke screen for some big, liberal... scientist... terrorist... uh, let's not play the blame game!

Here's a link to the news that the feds are trying to drum up some (nonexistent) connection there.

And here's a link to an excellent story American Public Media did in conjunction with NOW with Bill Moyers on the high likelihood that a hurricane would take out New Orleans due to destruction of the wetlands (among other things) - circa 2002.

Meanwhile, back in the present, folks in New Orleans are thrilled to find their power turned on 30 minutes before W's motorcade rolls through. Only to have it turned off again as soon as he leaves.

Let's not let a little thing like reality get to him, shall we?

Finally, Hunter from DKos does it again. There is laughter inside my tears...

Friday Cat (and Turtle) Blog

Have I mentioned lately that Maurice is just one awesome specimen of ideal felinity? Our poor putty man clearly had a recurrence of the old cystitis yesterday morning, and you didn't have to be an animal communicator to figure that one out. He was running like a madcat hither and yon, jumping in and out of each of the three litter boxes and howling. Finally, he bolted up onto the bed directly in front of me, spread his legs, licked his groin area furiously, then stared up and me and yowled "Mommy! Help me! It buuurrrrns!" Okay, maybe not in so many English words, but the meaning was clear. So, last night it was To The Vet with our kitty buddy.

Point being, on his visit he was The Best Kitty Ever. For while he clearly Did Not Like It, he gave nary a peep, and whereas his tail was expanded in the Puffy Display of Extreme Anxiety, he allowed himself to be poked, prodded, jabbed with needles and even anally probed with meek, cooperative acceptance. In fact, not only did the vet and tech love him, but they commented multiple times on how they could not believe he is eight years old, with his handsome, athletic build and silky fur. "He has the teeth of a two-year-old!" they kept exclaiming. Awww.

Anyway, he's on medication now, and here's an old animation I did of him to bug M one time:


Meanwhile, trouble in turtleland, as I found Edamame biting chunks out of Aubergine's shell again and had to separate them. I'm really worried about him - he seems lethargic, traumatized and possibly sick now. And I don't know what to do about her - she just has been so intractably aggressive. I hate to think we may have to permanently separate them or give one or both to a sanctuary, but that's starting to look like a very real possibility. Cross your fingers for us - I love my turtles and would miss them dearly (not to mention we still haven't paid off the ginourmous tank taking up most of our living room, yet).

Sigh.

It's The End of The World As We Know It

And Hunter over at DKos does not feel fine.

Funny stuff. Maddening - but funny.

Meanwhile, Bill's Cheers and Jeers for today is just awesome, from start to finish. Check it out.

Have you been wondering what those "nutria" are that search-and-rescue teams say have been taking over New Orleans? Well, here you go. They might give NYC rats a run for their money, but I have a feeling they'd do a better job protecting NO than the Feds.

Finally, I'm sure most of you have donated what you can to the human victims of Katrina. Please also consider donating to the ASPCA or the HSUS. They are both doing amazing work saving thousands of animals left sick and homeless by the events in the gulf, and they could use all the help they can get.

Peace out.

Why Blog Why You Can Get Someone To Do It For You?

Esepecially if 1.) you're lazy and 2.) nobody reads your blog, anyway. Unless somebody does. Anyone...? Bueller?

Anyway, Matt over at X-Entertainment has started his excellent annual Halloween countdown. If that's not awesome enough, he's added an article with some personal reflections on Castle Dracula, the old dark ride/horror house in Wildwood, NJ.

Castle Dracula was a monster-sized (heh) haunted house built in the mid-70s, after the owners of Nickels' pier realized just how much money the folks who built the infamous Brigantine Castle were making (said folks probably having based their creation on the horror craze of the time sparked by The Exorcism, The Omen, etc.). Lots of Matt's recollections are similar to mine, although I was always too chicken to go into the walk-through part of the Castle. Even in my tender single-digit years, I harboured the strange combination of an obsessive fascination with The Count and a mind-blowing terror at the thought of even going near a "scary movie" or "haunted house". The pain/pleasure adrenaline rush of even being on the same boardwalk as this place could get me higher than the sugar from a funnel cake, neapolitan waffle sandwich and cotton candy combined, with a side of salt water taffy thrown in. Even after finally braving the boat portion and mocking it mercilessly the whole way through with my stepbrothers, Castle Dracula still seemed to retain some of its bloody and fascinating cachet in my mind until it burned to the ground, as most boardwalk attractions do, in 2002.

Although Castle Dracula will always remain third in my heart behind The Golden Nugget and the Pirate Ship Skua, this article really takes me back to the days when some plastic monsters and teenagers in make-up were about the scariest things I could imagine. Good times.

Whaddaya know? I got kinda a blog post out of that, after all...

An Illustrated Guide to Spinal Fusion

In case anyone missed my handy-dandy guide to the surgery I have coming up, you can see it here.

In other news, I said I'd be blogging more, particularly about the Costa Rica trip, but apparently I lied. Just another check on the list of duties shirked and promises unkept.

More later...?

Baby Blake is Here!

Congratualtions to S & J'A on the birth of Blake Davis, or as I like to call him, Mr. Blakeypants. As you can see from his picture, he has already adopted his Brooklyn attitude. I believe his first words will be "What are you lookin' at ?"

Despite the early arrival, baby and moms are all doing fine, although the moms are, naturally, exhausted. They hope to go home sometime on Saturday, where Mr. Blakeypants can meet his furry brother Mingo, who will probably outweigh him for some time.

In related news, lesbian uterae across the tri-state area are said to be vibrating upon viewing photos of the tyke. "It feels as though some kind of alarm is ringing," one sapphist reported, "and I have the urge to buy tiny clothes and a minivan." Officials are investigating.

Costa Rica Dreamin'

We're baaaa-aaack - and full of stories from Costa Rica. It was a wonderful, terrifying, breathtaking, aggravating and delightful trip, and I'm still processing it (and catching up on sleep). I will probably try to convert some of my journal entries to blog bits within the next few weeks, as well as put up a number of photos. In the meantime, it's good to be home.

Sloppy Eater Dept.

If I drop just one grain of cous-cous down my shirt, is it a cou?

A Pond in Our Living Room

Yesterday we finally got a huge new tank for our turtles. Red-Eared Sliders can get aggressive when they don't have enough space, and Edamame had been pursuing and nipping at Aubergine for weeks. We began to get worried when we noticed her sharklike focus on stalking him, and that he'd taken to swimming with only his front legs, tucking his rear ones and his tail into his shell so they wouldn't get bitten. Finally, M saw one day that Eddy had taken a piece out of the back of Aubie's shell, and he was bleeding. "That's it - I don't care what we pay, I'll put it on my credit card. We have to get these two a bigger tank!"

So, for a week our poor chelonian friends had to hang out in about 10 gallons of water each in the little tank, separated by a divider. Eddy was clearly frustrated in the tiny space, and Aubie was depressed. He was skittish after being hauled out and dry docked for a while as part of his wound treatment, and then he was separated from his beloved Aubergine. He'd spend hours just looking at her through the divider, pining and pathetically trying to do the mating dance at her. Of course, she was on the other side, trying to bite him through the divider. Call it the call of the wild or sheer teenage male persistence, Aubie never seems to stop pursuing her, even when she's had enough of his harassing her and takes a bite out of his hide. Sigh.

Anyway, after more than a week of figuring out what we needed, if it would fit in the apartment, how to set it up and how the heck to get it here before we go on vacation, I happened to ask the local Petland Discounts if they had any aquariums in stock - hoping just to get another small one for the interim - and was taken to the basement, to find a complete 90 gallon tank and stand right there! We had been told that we'd have to order a tank through them, it might take a week or two to arrive and it would be delivered to us from the warehouse on a Thursday only, with just the driver there to help us out if he was feeling nice. Now I figured that if I could find a good, cheap local moving company or men-with-a-van, our turts could have their new digs within the weekend!

And so it went. M paid for the tank (and a number of accoutrements) and I bought the filter, which is due on Monday or Tuesday. We found some terrific moving guys - JB moving - through a site I found called citimove.com. I was thrilled to find this site, where you not only can read reviews of local movers, but describe your move and get them to bid against each other on it. Jonathan from JB was a real sweetheart, and they only charged us $95 (plus a good tip) to move about 300 lbs worth of unwieldy, fragile glass tank and stand up through narrow, curving stairs to the fourth floor. Not only that, but they set it up and took the time to adjust it so it was perfectly level for us (an important factor in protecting both the floors and the structural integrity of the tank). I could not be more pleased with these guys, and if you are considering moving, I heartily suggest you check out citimove and consider hiring them for your job.

So, now our little lovelies have a huge space to do their turtley things in. I cannot believe how huge this thing is - it's nearly as tall as I am and equally as wide, weighing in, when filled, at about 1000-1500 pounds (and yes, we did research on how to place it so our 100+ year old floors could support it, so it shouldn't kill the downstairs neighbours). It really is like having a full pond in our living room, and very entertaining to watch the turtles swim around, climb on the tiki head ornament and try to eat the plastic plants and flowers (did I mention they have tiny, tiny brains?). We'll probably be watching much less t.v. with this thing around.

The bad news is, Eddy started stalking Aubie a bit again last night. They were so excited to explore their new territory (and, on Aubie's part, to be together again) that they seemed happy to be close, but now she is nipping again. I can't entirely blame her - despite the grreater space, Aubie hangs on her like a lamprey, constantly flirting with and irritating her like some kind of miniature, green Mars Blackmon. Now she's got that sharky, dead focus in her eyes again, so much so that I remarked to M "they're gonna have to change the expression 'doggedness' to "turtleness."

We'll see how it goes. We can't possibly get a bigger tank in this apartment, and we'd hate to have to separate them, or adopt one out. It may help when we install a bigger basking area with dirt to dig in, which we intend to do when we get back. As for now, M is needling me to keep trying to talk Eddy out of attack mode. It's not always easy talking with one's own animals, even if one is a professional animal communicator. Emotions get in the way, and the fact is that Eddy has always been a tough cookie, barely tolerating us, while Aubie is much more outgoing. I thought I was going to fall out when I got a simple message from her after exploring the new tank: "thank you." So, there's a bit of pressure involved in trying to actually get some behaviour modification out of her through A.C. Being nervous is not conducive to the task, so I hope M will be understanding. Can't we all just get along?

Anyway, that's the story for now. More later, and I will try to get some photos up soon.

Ciao!

- The Turtle Whisperer(?)

Pissy Day

I am in in mood today, chilluns. Not only is my bleeding back, but I tweaked my neck again somehow last night - while just lying down - so my neck and shoulder are back to killing me again. This would be annoying enough, but I was trying to reach someone who could give me advice at my new doctor's office for most of last week with no success, as he was out of town. I tried to do the traction early in the week, but that's what first brought the pain back a bit, so I stopped. So, after ditching a doctor who I couldn't reach in a bad situation he caused, I go to a new doctor... only to find him unreachable!

So, now I've had to do all kinds of re-scheduling with my dentist and my gyno's office because my last blood test came out wonky, and I've set an appointment to see an expensive endocrinologist based on my new theory of what may be causing a lot of my health issues (M has seen all the evidence, and also thinks this diagnosis is highly possible), but I still don't have any information or appointments to get my neck in better shape before my vacation. And, if it doesn't improve soon, I may have to cancel that vacation, which has me very, very upset, let me tell you.

Anyway, just had to vent. The doctor is supposedly going to call me back tomorrow, and M will be coming for emotional support to the endo visit (therefore, oh so regrettably, having to cut her office outing to Rye Playland short). In the meantime I am stewing, avoiding the formidable heat outside and trying to keep some positivity goin' up in here. It's a good thing I have a Reiki appointment this coming weekend.

I am sure I will have more to report on my new theoretical disease later, but in the meantime, I'm just going to try to stay cool, listen to some music and reeeelaaaax...

New Term of the Day

Poltergays: When you come home and your furniture hasn't been thrown around, but artfully redecorated.

Ground Control To Major Tom

How freakin' cool is this: NASA has a Quicktime movie taken by the impactor that was sent to crash into the comet Temple 1 as it was crashing into the comet. Actually, the comet was crashing into the impactor, but let's not quibble. What we have here is a real movie of an object smacking into a comet - not some sci-fi movie CGI. We may forget in this era of Star Wars, Episode Bajillion that this kind of thing was absolutely unimaginable not long ago. We may not take a moment to really think about the precise science and vast speeds and distances involved because it makes our brains hurt. But check this out and see if it doesn't make you a little bit more impressed with human beigns, despite all our aggravating faults.

Here's the movie.
Here's the NASA site for more info on the mission.

New Terms

I have a couple new terms I have invented.

1. Head Cheese
This is spam or mistaken email that is so strange it really stands out. For example, here's a recent one I received:

Date: 6/14/2005 19:45:40 -0700
From: "Wended V. Awakenings"
To: Gk
Subject: Greetings, white man! :)
_________________________________________

Evening, landlord :)

- Veloma

or

Date: 6/27/2005 07:41:10 -0700
From: Andres
To: Fo

Subject: Of whom do I have the honour? :)
_________________________________________

We haven't been introduced... :)

I wanted so badly to study ballet, but it was really all about wearing the tutu. [On the subject of her early aspirations]

Nah isawa tah

I mean... the hell?

1. Queermudgeon
This is my new term for myself, which I used to explain to M that although I was progressive enough back in the days when "queer" became the new moniker for a range of non-heterosexual types, I am rapidly reaching that age where those nearly-naked kids in the Pride Parade annoy me and I don't understand what the latest gender/sexuality/politcal/academic "discourse" is all about. "And fram damn it - why is it always so damn HOT on Pride Weekend? I'm staying inside and taking a nap, like a sane person!"
Can easily be applied in a number of situations.

Feel free to spice the boulliabase of your regular conversation with these fun and easy-to-use new words!

Whacky News Items of The Day

1. Lightning Awareness Week. Would you believe one exists and this is it? Yes, read this article and you, too, may start constructing a grounded, rubber lightning shelter in your backyard.

2. Grizzly Bear-Size Catfish Caught in Thailand. Yes, weighing in at 646 lbs, it is possibly the largest fresh water fish ever caught. The bad news is, it's endangered and they killed it. The good news is, it supposedly brought good luck to a lot of villagers.

3. Alan Cumming has a perfume named after him. Yes, the guy who played the MC in Cabaret. Want to know what it smells like?

You may now return to your daily lives just a little bit more well-informed.

The Book of Jobina

OK, I’m exaggerating, but what the heck is going on here? After my latest post, in which a session of Reiki left me feeling better than I had in months, I went in the next afternoon for my steroid epidural. The night after that, I began to experience what can only be described as a five-day-solid agonizing migraine headache, complete with light and noise sensitivity, nausea, sweats and dizziness. In getting the shots done on Thursday, I’d hoped to make sure I was comfortable for our extended visit with M’s family, including her 90+ year old grandmother, who I dearly love and don’t know how many times, if at all, I’ll get to see again. Instead, it turns out that I experienced a rare, but possible, reaction to the shots – either a bodily rejection of the steroids or the result of a pinprick leak in my cervical spinal column, causing pressure changes in my neck and skull that left me feeling like I’d been tossed in a sack of hammers and rolled down a hill. For five days.

Is there some higher message or meaning in here? Why do I keep experiencing these debilitating injuries and illnesses? Am I supposed to pack it all up and go live in a cave somewhere, communing with the animals and existing on shoots and berries? Or, conversely, am I supposed to be counting my lucky stars that I live in an industrialized, “first-world” nation, with a job that, even though it’s not exactly my soul’s calling, furnishes me with the medical insurance to treat all these issues and at least not worry where my next meal might come from if I have to spend a week doped into hallucinations with multiple pills?

I am truly thankful for my family and especially for M, who has been the most wonderful, supportive angel of a partner through all this I could ask for – despite the fact that my illness put even more stress on what was an already emotion-fraught trip for her. I am going to make an appointment for another session with my Reiki master as soon as possible, too, to see if that can help clear up the aftereffects of this latest problem. The ache in my head is very dull now, but I still feel – physically and emotionally – hung-over. The loving ministrations of my cats (I swear having them wrapped around my head purring all night put the last whammy on that headache) and going into the place of peace and no pain I experienced during that last Reiki session truly helped me get through this without completely losing my marbles.

I don’t know how to be clever just now, but I’m easing back in. Further bulletins soon…

This Shit Really Works!

Shake, Rattle n’ Roll, Baby…

So – long time no post. Last I left off here, I was just getting over my bout with vertigo, which was bad enough but just the tip of the iceberg, I soon found out. Since then I’ve been afflicted with two – count ‘em - two herniated discs in my neck, a killer stomach virus, a few panic attacks and The Return of The Constant Menstruation. Sounds fun, no? Trust me, it’s been a blast. Between the bleeding, the searing pain, the reduced use of my dominant arm and hand, the parade of drugs and the projectile spewing, I’ve truly been the life of any party. I’ve missed a lot of work at my day job, had to stop doing the work I love most – animal communication – and generally been confined to resting and moping, with a side of weight gain. It’s been a rough few months, here, is what I’m trying to say.

But… last night I finally did something I should have done weeks ago. I went to see my Reiki master. See, I’ve been taking drugs, seeing doctors both medical and pshrinky, and getting steroids shot into my spine, and it all helped, but I’ve still been feeling lousy. Not just physically but, as you may imagine, spiritually. Guilty and sad that I haven’t been able to do my animal work just when my business was really taking off. Depressed over feeling sick and in pain all the time. Tired and defeated and right on the edge of hopeless. I tried to do Reiki on myself and meditate, but I was too distracted or in pain to get it flowing. Not only that, but I began to doubt that those things could help me. I began to fall back on the ol’ inner skeptic society built in me, telling myself that all that New Age mumbo-jumbo was a scam, and even my beloved animal communication must be a comforting delusion – dismissing all the amazing results I’ve seen and the information I’ve gotten that I just could not possibly have known without it being real.

So, enter my Reiki master, Linda Gnat-Mullin. Although I’d been attuned to level I by her (I did level II long-distance with someone else, mostly due to curiosity and financial considerations) and afterwards had some very intense psychic experiences with her, I’d never actually gotten a full Reiki treatment. Well, little did I know that the work she does involved not only Reiki, but shamanic work and other spiritual/energetic methods. That’s right, sage was burned, spirits and the divine feminine were invoked, crystals were placed and even a rattle was shaken above me. It was all enough that definitely, at times, I had to internally roll my eyes and think “oh, jeez, is all this New Age, white-lady-fixated-with-aboriginal-spiritualism frou-frou-rah really necessary? And does it do any good besides giving one the psychological/placebo effect that one is better?” Well, I’m here to tell you – it works!

After two hours of communing with animal spirits, crying over childhood issues and being spritzed with lavender, not only did I feel emotionally “cleansed”, more vibrant and happy, but the pain from my herniated discs went away. For the first time in weeks I was able to sleep through the whole night, and woke up with no pain at all. None.

Moreover, there’s a spring in my step I haven’t felt in months. I feel… positive. Like I don’t have to carry a big weight anymore. How about that?

Sure, I’m still looking forward to getting my latest epidural this afternoon – those steroids in the neck can make one pretty grumpy, but they do take the pain and weakness down a few notches. But I am now thoroughly convinced that this Reiki session did me every bit as much good as any allopathic medical treatment I’ve ever had. So, I’ll be going back soon, and recommending it to all my friends – even if it does seem a little woo-woo to some. I may fall back into doubtfulness, but I now feel that a treatment like this – even just a tune-up – is worth every penny and just as important in taking care of myself as making sure I eat my vegetables or get my spine adjusted at the chiropractor. After all, I’m trying to go into a line of work where I will be helping to take care of many others – human and of different species. How can I do that if I am stuck and ill, myself?

So, back on track. I hope within a week or two to being doing consultations again. Until then, I will be taking good care of myself, looking forward to my next treatment and planning our vacation in Costa Rica. I have work, financial and family issues to take care of, but I feel as though it’s much more manageable. Wish you could get and outlook adjustment, too? Drop me a line and I’ll give you Linda’s number. It’s worth it!

These Dreams...

... go on when I close my eyes. I'm not talking about the Wilson sisters (although M did get a Heart Greatest Hits album recently). I'm talking about one way I know animal communication is what I really want to be doing with my life. I've been having these dreams lately. In each one, I have to save Maya, our cantankerous and deaf cat, from some impending doom. This has ranged from a fire drill to an actual fire, from being forced to move out of our place due to some financial ruin to rescuing her from a building next to one that has been blown up by terrorists. Maya is pretty good as I cradle her in my arms and run for safety amidst the confusion, at first. But I know the minutes are numbered before she starts to struggle, and I may lose her completely in the chaos as she becomes irritable or scared by the situation and wriggles free. I feel mounting alarm as I worry that I will lose her and may not know if she is safe. I will both miss her terribly and feel as though I have failed.

Once again, my subconcious? With the subtlety? Not so much. Clearly not only have I been feeling guilty that I've been behind on Ms. Maya's columns since I got sick (I swear she has been put out at me lately, and looking somewhat unhealthy), but I am worried about all my animal and human clients who I have been powerless to assist while lost in vertigo-induced la-la land. Every day I get a couple more messages from clients anxious about a lost cat, a dog with cancer, or an animal friend who has recently died. I want to help them so much! But then I look at the backlog of clients I am still trying to catch up on, and it overwhelms me. I know being sick for a month is no 9/11 terrorist attack, but my subconcious is obviously using some exaggerated metaphors to let me know that I am waaay anxious about this. And did I mention I am still in the middle of re-organizing my files and doing my taxes?

I know I will catch up, somehow, and I know I still need to take time for myself to relax, meditate and continue to get better, or I'll be no good to anyone. But I tend to spiral into these fear-of-impotency panics... "all the animals in the world are going to suffer if I don't help them right now, and it's my fault!"... even though, realistically, I know that my clients always have the option to take up my offer for a referral and I am Just. One. Person.

The good news is that I have other reasons for believing this really is my calling - the top of the list being just how damn delightful I find a good chat with most animals and their people, and how incredibly good I feel when I get something I never would have imagined exactly right, or actually help to facilitate an understanding between beings that haven't been getting along, or even help an animal or person feel or behave better. But, being the person that I am, I suppose the freaky dreams and bouts of anxiety are bound to go along with the territory when I feel all that goodness in my life is somehow threatened. That and the fact that I'm no longer passed out on Trazadone every night. Ever try to kick a sleeping aid?

Vertigo

No, not the movie - although it's one of my favourite films. And not the comic line, either. If you thought of that first, you are an even bigger geek than I am.

No, I mean the actual symptom, i.e. " a false illusion of motion with a distinct sensation of rotation." This was the major symptom I was experencing as I was sick over the last three weeks, and it's more of a pain in the ass than you might imagine. I mean, I thought it was bad when I had the symptoms of a throat infection and possible stomach flu the week before. But, it turned out it could get worse, because I didn't go to the doctor and it progressed to a combined sinus and ear infection that gave me... well, you guessed it.

Just how much of a pain in the ass is vertigo? Well, strike one: if you have vertigo, nobody can tell you have it. You look perfectly fine, until you find yourself putting your head between your knees or clinging to nearby wall or lamp-post to remain upright. I have a feeling that I was probably doing weird squinty and popping things with my eyeballs, too, and making pissy faces, but just enough that the casual observer probably thought I was either crazy or had a minor case of Tourette's, not so much that it would be clear I was ill and thus garner some pardon or sympathy. In any case, I found myself feeling defensive while I was sick in a way I wouldn't have if, say, I had a rattling cough or a blood-soaked bandage on my head. "I may look fine," I'd silently mind-thrust at those around me, "but I feel like I've been tossed in a sack and hammered - wanna make somethin' out of it?"

Strike two: it is remarkably incapacitating. Even if you otherwise feel fine (which is unlikely, because headaches, fatigue and nausea tend to tag along with their friend vertigo, but I'm just saying), try doing almost anything when the little steadycam in your brain that keeps your every waking moment from looking like the chase scene in a COPS video is not working and you will pretty soon start wishing for temporary blindness. Work on the computer? No. Watch TV? Not for more than a few minutes, if you don't want to revisit your breakfast. Read a good book? Try a page or two, at most. When I did have to move around, I found myself navigating through many familiar spaces - and some unfamiliar ones - with my eyes closed. I'd sometimes catch myself doing this walking down the hallway at work or, say, Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn on the way to the pharmacy. I'd have to stop and force myself to pry my lids open and walk slowly, to lessen the chance of blundering into other pedestrians, obstacles or passing vehicles. To be fair to myself, I submit that even when I was blinded and dizzy, I was at least as careful and safe as most of the drivers on that familiar roadway ("bike lane? What bike lane? I think I'll make a U-Turn at 35 miles per hour with this Salvation Army couch plopped on my car roof and the 5 kids sliding around in the back, between the blown-out, blaring gajillion-watt speakers.").

Finally, strike three: there's just not a heck of a lot you can do for vertigo. The strongest thing my doctor threw at me was a version of your basic Dramamine, which did almost nothing for me (except make me even more sleepy, which I did not expect was possible). So, I basically had to wait until it went away, not knowing when or if it would. I knew I was supposed to be on antibiotics for at least a week, but as that stretched into ten days and on to nearly two weeks with little improvement, I began to worry. What if the infection was gone, but I had some weird condition or damage in my brain, which meant I'd be doomed, dooooooomed, to feeling like I'd just spent three hours on the Goodship Gutspew for the rest of my life? All things told, this one symptom, which, on the surface, would not seem like something that would put one out of commission, did. Put me out. And I was mad about it, too!

I mean, not only did I have to use up most of my sick days, but I had to spend them staring at... nothing, or reading for five minutes and then sleeping for fifteen. And I'd find myself raging at myself, too, as in "you pussy! You're just a little woozy! It's not even a flesh wound!" But it didn't help. And it was depressing, because I also couldn't enjoy eating, or talking with anyone for very long, much less keep up my AC practice, which was probably the most disheartening. I mean, it's one thing to feel just generally useless, but another entirely when someone calls you weeping that their innocent little animal is dying or lost somewhere, and you have to say "sorry, got a bit of the spins, can't help you." Well, I could refer them elsewhere, but still. I ended up having to do quite a bit of soul-searching and telling myself that just because I couldn't be "useful" in the way I'd like to be at that time, I was still an okay person. I'm still mulling over that one, but I guess it was an important "life lesson." Or whatever. Bleah.

Anyway, I'm back again (somewhat) and starting to catch up, so I hope to be writing more. I'm sure millions have been waiting with breath a-baited. Stay tuned for what one hopes will be less hostile, if probably equally self-involved, updates.

International Lovah - part Ni

My global fame grows apace. Or, at least, the opportunity to be an international famewhore. Today I got an invitation to teach a workshop in San Francisco (possibly good - can't beat a tax-deductible trip to the city by the bay) and the following request which was... just strange.

In an email from a producer in LA, I was asked to appear on a show called "Genius! Mr. Shimura's Animal Land" on Nippon TV network. That's right - the foreign, sometimes delightful and sometimes horrifying world of Japanese TV. It seems that Mr. Shimura is a well-known actor/comedian in Japan. His house was robbed while he was away last month, and he would like me to communicate with his golden retriever and miniature dachshund to get information on the suspect and details of the robbery. Not only did the producer want to interview me in the US, but to bring me to Japan and - this is the kicker - air a dramatic re-enactment with an actor playing me. Yeah.

If that's not enough to make one bubble up with nervous laughter, I don't know what is. Not that I don't think the dogs might have some good input on the situation. It's that a) good luck on finding a professional animal communicator of some worth who is willing to get themselves into a situation where they can so easily be made to look like a big ass and b) it just doesn't work that way. Even on the off chance that I could get beyond the dogs' reactions of fear and what they most likely saw of the invader (shoes and legs), it's unlikely I'll get a clear enough facial description to go on. Plus, I don't know about Japanese courts, but the odds are close to none that such evidence in a US investigation would ever be considered. Then again, their culture is very different. Who knows?

Fortunately, I was spared the decision by their desire to find someone who had already solved at least one criminal case this way, which took me out of the running. I sent a nice letter back but, although visions of a possible expenses-paid trip to Tokyo danced in my head, I can't say I was sorry to say no. I'll leave it to some other animal communicator with greater confidence or worse judgment to field this one. I have to say, however, that I'm curious to see the results, if it gets filmed.

Anyone out there ever seen that show?

International Lovah

That's me. Or rather, international animal lover. Long time no blog, because I've been quite busy with both of my jobs for the last few weeks. Days have meant testing, fixing and re-testing the company's Website, and nights and weekends have been spent conversing with animals across the globe.

Yea, across the globe because, since the London Times article came out and my bid to get my Website listed higher on search engines, I've been getting inquiries from all over. This past week, for instance, I spoke with a bunch of budgeriars in Bangalore and a delightful cat spirit in Amsterdam. I've also been assigned the task by one of my long-standing feline clients of writing his life story (don't ask).

So, although I have been thinking of doing creative writing and some blogging here, I haven't had the time, especially as I try not to mix the stuff that should go on my business site with the stuff that ends up here. This doesn't jibe with my goal to write more creative stuff and promote my blog, but it does jibe with my goal to promote my business, be professionally respected and do some writing in that area. So... one and a half out of three ain't bad?

Anyway, if you've stopped by, which would probably be a surprise on my part and an accident on yours, howdy! I'm sorry there's not much here that's current. But, there's always tomorrow, so stop by again.