Monday, July 23, 2007

Jerry's Photo Skills Rule!


Indeed, I am quite biased. But not blind -- see for yourself! :-)
July 21, 2007.
~Baby Bryce's Baptism~

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Happy 4th of July!

Yes, I do keep forgetting tomorrow is a national holiday, since the hospital never closes, sleeps, or goes on holiday. I will be spending the day in bed and the evening at work, taking care of all the fireworks gone wrong victims. Am I complaining? No, not really. I enjoy trauma. Perhaps I will at least wear patriotic scrubs. :-)

P.S. No fireworks in these parts, please. South Georgia has just killed off the wildfire that raged for weeks and added a new tab to history, and I am certain the Earth longs for no more scars.

Monday, July 02, 2007

Poor Fatty

Evil Fatty EyeMy cat is upset.

Fatty is not taking to the move very well, and he's making us suffer. During the day, he's fine — or I guess he's fine, since he picks a spot and hides all day long. It's the early morning hours that he gets lonely, or vindictive, or something. He comes up to the bedroom door and starts wining. And wining. He'll pause for a minute or two to lull me into a false sense of calm, letting me almost drift back to sleep before he hits me — WAHHHH! — with another round, an aggressive and persistent enemy pounding at the gates. I just lay there feeling my blood pressure rise.

Even if I get up, that doesn't help. I can be downstairs with him, and he'll still walk around wining. Mwwwarrrr! . . . Whhhharrrr! . . . Hrrrwwwwaaarr! I'm not sure what to do for him, and Autumn's losing patience. Shoot, I'm losing patience.

I wish I knew what to do for him. I thought that after two weeks, he would start behaving normally again. I think that part of the problem is the nearly constant stream of strangers we've had flowing through since we moved in. Still, even though the flood has ebbed a bit, we have someone ring the doorbell almost daily. Fatty's eyes widen, his head pops up, he scrunches down, and he slinks into his hiding spot. Then we don't see him the rest of the day, but we know he's there, sometime around 4 am.

I'm not sure what's made my 17-pound cat such a wimp. Anna is an Achilles to Fatty's Elpenor. She's already Queen of the house, taking long naps on the couch and basking in the extra space. She can probably sleep now 'cause Fatty's not around to bug her all the time. Poor poor Fatty.

I hope he gets over it soon. I need some sleep.