A Hippo Skull, a Gallbladder, and One Missing Kidney

 

I hope your Friday went far better than mine! I woke up to Poppy (pound puppy) throwing up all over the place. It was so bad that I was on the phone by 9:30 a.m. trying to get her in to the vet. So I went out to make sure my car would start (battery issues for a few weeks, and I just haven’t taken it in yet). Of course it was dead.

I was lucky my sister was off, so she ran over and picked us up. Once at the vet, Poppy had bloodwork done and an x-ray. They thought it was most likely a blockage (I was afraid they’d say that). The only way to be sure was a barium test (have you started hearing “Cha-ching” yet?).

That takes a hot minute, so my sister & I went to a new crystal shop that had just opened (Red Stone Fossils & Minerals). They had super amazing stuff!!! My favorite was the hippo skull. They had more than just crystals. There were fossils, a sand-sifting area for kids to look for stuff with a “gold miner” type of set-up. You can also purchase a small bucket prefilled with sand & goodies to sift in the water feature. You can buy a geode rock and crack it open with their cool pirate wheel-turning crank. Very cool place.

Once I got home from the crystal shop, I picked up my phone every five minutes. Waiting sucks. The vet finally called. The barium stopped at her stomach and never even went into her intestines. Perfect. Then they told me they couldn’t do the surgery (3:00 p.m. on a Friday); there were already two scheduled, and they couldn’t work her in. She suggested calling an emergency vet to see if anyone else could get her in. So I did. Naively. The least expensive option I found was between four and seven thousand dollars. Once again, what the what???

I had to call the vet back and tell her it looked like we were going to have to put her to sleep, all while sobbing hysterically and telling her I had just lost Scrappy (14 y/o chihuahua). She told me to hold on and she’d talk to the vet. That precious veterinarian said she’d stay late and do Poppy’s surgery.

Fast forward to around 8:30 p.m. We finally got the call that we could come pick her up. Results? There was no obstruction. What the what? Apparently her gallbladder was inflamed and enlarged. The vet thought the parvo she suffered from as a very young puppy could be the cause. She drained it and then went on a hunt for Poppy’s second kidney. Non-existent. Birth defect. Very unexpected.

She’s currently on four prescriptions and seems to be doing better. As in, better than ever. I used to joke that we should have named her “Wendy” because she was always whining. Saying that now kinda makes me feel like a trash dog-mom. She had to be in constant pain. If you’ve ever had gallbladder issues, you know. She’s eating chicken & rice with green beans and is doing so much better than I expected.

It’s crazy how attached you can get to your pet in just six months. We’re so thankful she’s alright, and we’ll just have to keep an eye on her water intake and hope the scripts help heal everything and her gallbladder doesn’t act up again. Give your pets an extra cuddle or treat. Life is short for us, but even shorter for them.

Brain, Heart, Libido, Doubt & Hubris

Oversharing is a problem I’ve struggled with my entire life. And it’s never relegated to one area in my world. Nope. It’s everyone. Kids, parents, neighbors, clients, acquaintances (not friends, they expect you’ll overshare), employers, recruiters, and the list goes on & on. I was always told I was “extra”. That’s hurtful, I’m me. This is my personality & it’s who I am. I tend to overshare. My poor filter looks like a stack of Swiss cheese…there’s a good chance there will be a leak somewhere. At least I’ve learned to layer that Swiss cheese as high as needed for most situations. If masking were an Olympic sport, sign me up!!!

Society has only recently recognized & accepted neurodivergence. I’ve only recently realized that neurodivergence explains so much. Those of us who grew up being told we were “weird”, “fidgety”, “unruly”, “disruptive”, “spastic”, or a “daydreamer”, understand there was nothing wrong. Now, I’m not saying screw society’s rules. There is absolutely no reason to behave horribly or rudely. But I think you should give yourself grace. It’s easier for me to give advice than to listen to my rational brain, because I have a few more parts of my brain that chime in on the regular. I’ve talked about three parts of my brain here. I’ve since added to that list.

We have the original cast of characters, Brain, Heart, & Libido. We’re now adding Doubt & Hubris. They are absolutely two sides of a coin for me, neither fun. I’ve always believed I could do anything I set my mind to and I do 98% of the time. Some would call it ambition, but that’s not it. Am I ambitious? You betcha! But it’s more Hubris talking. Hubris can be completely full of it, but I honestly should listen to it more than I do his buddy, Doubt.

It’s that 2% that brings Doubt out of his cave. Man, I hate that guy. So now we have Doubt & Hubris. It’s hard to picture the two of them working in unison, but here we are. Doubt apologizes for EVERY. SINGLE. THING. Completely unnecessary. Hubris sits back laughing during apologies. Hubris has been held in check since my early twenties when he ran amok (admittedly, it was a fun time, but Hubris & Libido running the show can get you in trouble!).

Nowadays, I try very hard not to take myself so seriously. My recent kitchen remodel is indicative of that (can you say lavender ghost theme...year round?). Live, laugh, and try not to be a diva!!!

It Was Never Just a Compliment

 

My youngest daughter would go out of her way to compliment people when she was in high school and then in college. The waitress who brought our drinks, the cashier that rang us up, a receptionist at the doctor’s office. It didn't matter who or where. It was an effort for her. Being on the spectrum, she never felt comfortable around people.

I asked her about it one day and her response was two-fold. The first was that complimenting a stranger made them feel good, and that costs nothing. The next one broke my heart. She said she told people what she wished someone would tell her.

Since that day, I’ve tried to adopt her kindness. I’m not always good at it. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever be at her level of awesome.

She’s not just an exceptionally nice person, but she’s also a Respiratory Therapist specializing in the NICU. And I personally think she’s also beautiful (but as a mom, I’m slightly biased).

It only takes a minute to say something positive. Congratulate someone on a win, apologize for a loss, just be human. As a parent, we often forget that we can continue to learn from our children well into their adulthood. But they can humble us by just being themselves.

Tell the checker at the grocery store you like her hair. Tell the receptionist at the Dr’s office you appreciate her kindness. Tell your own child (grown or not) how amazing they are.

I know I failed in that department, but I can still try and make up for it by being more like her.
 

I Think My Characters Have Unionized

I'm a control freak (my husband will agree). I will work until I'm about to drop to get something right (and heaven forbid I ask for help). I made the assumption many years ago that at least while writing, I'm in charge. Isn't that just adorable? I mean, how cute (and naive) to think a few fictional characters wouldn't have a say in the direction their character is going. Their death (suckers hate being killed off), their name (blog post), or, at the very least, they don't agree with a scene. A scene. Yes, seriously. 

Of course they aren't real and yes, I understand they're fictional. But if you're a writer (new or seasoned), you get it. A scene may play out in your head. You think, "Oh, that will work great for this plotline", but sometimes, the characters in your head, disagree. And no matter how hard you try to work that scene in where you thought it should go, your characters have other ideas.

Now, this isn't a constant thing. Most of the time, my characters and I are all getting along nicely. Usually I'm in the zone, typing like crazy, can't get the words typed out fast enough. As long as I'm not fighting the scene unfolding in my head, all is well. It's that word, or maybe an interruption, but something draws your mind away from the story. You come back. Read what you've recently written. Hate it (obviously, it's a first draft...only 499 more to go!), decide to change it up and there's where the mental revolt commences.

It honestly makes no difference just how great I think a change is going to be, sometime
s, they're just not having it. When that happens, I think the union is brought in. If you've seen Inside Out, that's how I picture my characters. All freaking out about a change, making the call to their union rep, and everything shuts down. At least for them. It's like they go on strike. Gone. Curtain has been called.

Unfortunately, I've learned they're usually right. If I attempt to force something, like Margaret Sinclair (feisty girl refused to be called Maggie), it doesn't work. I spent three weeks attempting to use Maggie, and backspacing every single time because my fingers typed Margaret (that was my ex-mother-in-law's name, and I wasn't a fan). Margaret was my first real character. In fact, I used her as the inspiration for my gamer name.

I've lost count of the times I've watched Lady Sinclair walk straight into trouble, in both my writing and my gaming. Lady Sinclair was retired a few years ago, so fictional Margaret Sinclair is the only one currently on the board with me. And the funny thing about creating characters, especially our main characters, we give them personalities, histories, flaws, fears, loves, and then is it really a surprise they unionized?

Puppies, Parvo, & the Pound

I went to the local animal shelter. They were overcrowded, so they were having a free pet adoption. I walked into the first kennel room (there were quite a few different rooms) and saw two dogs in chain-link kennels. And I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t walk into that humane society, wandering down aisle after aisle of those sad eyes, all hoping you’ll choose them. Nope. Could. Not. Do. It. Luckily, I had saved a picture of a puppy from their website before I came. It did say she was reserved, but I thought perhaps she had a brother or sister available.

I asked the girl at the front desk, who, unfortunately, was just security (I wasn’t aware that was needed, but here we are). As I was explaining and showing her the picture (all while wiping my eyes and trying not to snot on the counter), a girl exclaimed as she passed by, “That’s Zelda!” 

I looked up from the picture on my phone & asked if she had any littermates. “I just took her hold off not five minutes ago! She’s one of my favorites.” “Can I have her?” No idea why I asked like that, but I did (there’s no end to my awkward encounters). She explained which room she was in, and I must have looked panicked at the thought of going back in, because halfway through explaining where she was, she just stopped and asked if I’d like her to just go get her for me. I was so relieved.

She brought her out & handed her to me. She was much heavier than I thought (worms weigh A LOT…we’ll get to that). The poor thing looked terrified, but who can blame her? Only bad things happen when they take her out of the kennel. And by that, I mean this poor puppy had a very rough start.

I didn’t have a chance to look at her paperwork until I got home. But when I did, wow. It said she was three months old (I would have been surprised if she had been eight weeks old). In her short life, she’s suffered from and been treated for a respiratory virus (not surprising), Parvo (and yes, she was lucky to survive), a hernia repair surgery (I had the same repair surgery, so I thought that part was kismet), parasites (still more to come on that), and she had been spayed the day before (after being cleared from Parvo). 

They tell you when you adopt a puppy from our local humane society that they have a 30-day return policy (also didn’t know this), so you can bring the puppy back and get another one if it doesn’t work out. Remember this when you see the carnage she & Molly wrought in my office. So our Bloodhound Molly was over the moon about having a sister to play with (and yes, I call them sisters AND talk to them. All day. Judge if you must.). This is where sturdiness is beneficial, and boy is she sturdy!

That was on April 16^th. It’s now been four months. My husband calls her “Chaos.” We tried Zelda (because it’s a cool name!), but in the end, she wasn’t a Zelda. She was a Poppy. Poppy Sue, to be exact. I told my sister we named her after her. Her middle name is Sue & we called her Sue-Sue growing up…but it was completely unrelated; it was just the name that sounded right. So we have the Chaos twins. Molly Mae, a 100+ pound, 1-year-old Bloodhound, & Poppy Sue, now a healthy 6- or 7-month-old, 50ish-pound Shar Pei mix…yes, the vet said that was the only breed she was sure about because of her “hippo mouth.” DNA testing will be done in the future.

I can honestly say, she is now a healthy, happy dog. But it’s taken this long to get here. What they don’t tell you about adopting a puppy are the challenges you may face. When I got her, she had been treated for fleas, ticks, worms, etc. Well, let’s just say we got a VERY rude awakening several nights in. Worms were involved. I regretted not naming her “Eddie” (if you get the reference, you’re my people).

So, a few vet trips in and an amount of money I don’t want to discuss, we now have the aforementioned “healthy dog.” When you have to treat a puppy repeatedly for parasites & illness, it really does a number on their poor tummy. I think we’ve finally got that fixed.

There were definitely a few times I jokingly (mostly) said, “We’ve still got time to return her!” She has become “my” dog (Molly was a birthday gift for my husband). She’s not done growing, and is only about 4 inches shorter than Molly. She’ll be big. She’s already big. Molly & Poppy keep our days & nights filled with chaos. We wouldn’t have it any other way!

Is it the Character or the Writer Who Chooses a Name?

It's been hard to concentrate on my current writing. Losing all the writing I had sucks.

On that note, I was going back and looking over some old blog posts and came upon this little number:  Plotting and Character Development (Quin) 

I remember the character; unfortunately, I don't remember the WIP this character was destined for. 

Since I might never be able to retrieve the info from my hard drive, I think Quinn might just shift to the current WIP.

For me, blogging often 'unsticks' ideas — the ones that are just out of reach in the dark corners of my imagination (some might call it crazy; I prefer 'creative'). Names can be a sticking point. I've been looking at old blog posts (I'm sure I've talked about character names in a past post). I didn't find what I was looking for. 

I did, however, find a post about building your fictional world:  Blog Chain Blatherskite (Fictional Worlds)

I can't say this has completely 'unstuck' my inner voice, but my goal is to finish naming and fleshing out the major characters by Friday. Actually, a genre decision would also be helpful. I've started in one genre and ended up in an entirely different one in the end... darn formulas (yes, you were right, Professor Odom).

   ~Stay Nutty~

Do You Consider Writing Prompts a Crutch or a Useful Tool?

 

Do you consider writing prompts a crutch or a useful tool? Right now, I want that crutch. Stretching my creative brain cells has been challenging. I don’t mean I have writer’s block. Quite the opposite. I’ve started getting pieces, flashes of a story. I created a writing folder and went back to retrieve all of my old writing (published stories, four book outlines, one completed novel, etc.). I broke the cardinal rule. There was no backup... and the hard drive seems to be kaput. Man, talk about a punch in the gut. Heartbroken doesn’t seem to be adequate. Yes, I’ll take it to a specialist, but hope is not high.

So back to picking up the pieces, wiping off, & moving on. Luckily, the flashes of a story are all new (and not part of the outlined trilogy I lost). Moving on seems a bit harder than expected. Let’s try this again. Back to flashes (I like to think of them as “flashes of brilliance,” in my head, anyway). 

It started while staring out at my park-like backyard, watching my favorite tree, a black willow, and it seemed to whisper with each graceful sway of its branches. A line here, an image there. Just enough. Enough to prod me into research and rabbit holes (below is an AI creation of a "Noma", a cryptid in my notes).

And then came another storm. This one unexpected. In July. My beautiful tree didn’t survive. I lost the desire to continue. Momentarily. Going back over my notes, they were about witches and weather (when you’re from Moore, OK, you know weather; below is what was left of the home I grew up in), and horrific monsters that dwell in our national forests. 

Gotta love cryptids!

So now I’ll go back to that WIP… let’s see what happens next!