The Pet Life Cycle

My least favorite part of having pets is the end of the pet life cycle…or the dying part. It’s probably their least favorite part too.

With most pets, the life cycle is long. Most cats live upwards of 15+ years. I can tell you that having had a pet from infancy to death, 15 years isn’t long enough.

Hamsters, unlike cats, live about 2 years. Hamsters have a little internal egg timer, once they hit the elusive 2 year mark they are usually toes up in the bottom in the cage. Now a hamster isn’t a cat, he won’t purr and is most of the time afraid of the people who feed him. He spends most of his time burrowing in his cage or running on his plastic wheel. But he’s still cute and furry and has a sweet face. Finding your hammy dead is indeed a buzz kill. Let’s face it. Dead hammys are no fun.

As was the case Monday night, say oh, 9pm, when my son was in the feeding and watering phase of hammy care for the night. Only the hammy no longer needed feeding and watering as he had followed the white light to the green hammy wheel in the sky.

We found his little body curled up in his straw hanging thingy in his cage…the hammy version of a straw tire swing. My son tried to get him out of said straw hanging thingy, but hammy must have crossed the rainbow bridge quite a number of hours earlier. His body was a little, uh, stiff. There was no budging his body from that swing. Poor ham.

So we wrapped the whole tire swing/hammy combo in an old dishtowel and proceeded to commence burial at 9:00 at night. I was quite the site dressed in my blue doggie flannel jammies, holding a flashlight in one hand and towel wrapped dead hamster in the other while my son dug a grave along the back end of our lot line near the green space.

I feel bad. I do genuinely feel bad. He wasn’t the type of pet that gave unconditional love, but he was unconditionally cute and if he had lived 15 years, I would have taken care of him. Hammys don’t need much in terms of care. On the pet scale – they are pretty low maintenance.

Rest in peace little ham. He really did have the cutest little hamster face.

Not as simple as it looks

Just in case you haven't been paying attention. The big "Kohler" show is a  few weeks away.

You can read about it here and here.

As previously mentioned Kohler booth space is at a premium. My overpriced 8x10 booth will be "cozy" and because clothing takes up some space, so I've been brainstorming about how to maximize my space opportinity. I can't have any "stock" visible (no boxes or tubs) so I needed to figure out how to have extra stock artfully displayed.

I found some fun litte black wire cubes from http://www.robertham.com/. Supposedly they assemble and disassemble with ease.   Ease is apparently a subjective word.

2 hours and one rubber mallet later I was still assembling, along with a few choice curse words all while thinking there is no (insert choice curseword here) way I am taking these apart and putting them back together again.  My car is already going to be packed full but I'll make it work with assembled cubes if it kills me.

Two weeks and counting. Tick tock.

Updates to follow...

Stuff I like – Reinvented vinyl

If you are as old as me, ahem, then you remember records.

You know, albums.

Vinyl.

Those big monstrous looking black discs that played music on your parent’s stereo console with a diamond tipped record needle while you are your besties learned to disco dance in the rec room. The rec room that probably had shag carpet and wood paneling.

It’s all coming back now isn’t it?

I wish I could say that I still owned my albums. Thriller, Styx, Madonna, Saturday Night Fever, Journey, Fleetwood Mac and so on. But I am a purger by nature and my albums were long since purged at garage sales,  where they were probably acquired by someone like this artist  who does nifty things with old records. Upcycling I think they call it now…although it’s cooler than that. Trust me.

Reinvented Vinyl is my new favorite etsy shop. Hand to god. This artist takes old albums and magically reinvents them (hence the shop name) into fabulous purses. I know! So cool. You can also send her your favorite album and she will turn it into an fabulous purse.

So I did what any good girl would do. I bought four.  Three for Christmas gifts and one for me (because I deserve a present for doing all the Christmas shopping. You can read about my thoughts on Christmas here).

You might think the best part about shopping for these four purses was sending a check to the artist and receiving a big box of purses several weeks later on my front porch. Close.

But the real fun was the tripping down memory lane part of the purchase. The part where I covertly grilled my besties about their favorite record albums in hopes it could be created into some awesome piece of fashion nostalgia that doesn’t have “Made in China” stamped on the bottom. The part where I am renounced best gift giver ever come Christmas.

Win-win for everyone!

Buy unique. Buy handmade.

Halloween

I love Halloween.

Love it! This is ironic for someone who doesn’t like horror movies. But I otherwise love it. The costumes, the fun decorations, the trick-or-treaters, the abundance of Halloween candy until Easter.

Once again I am approaching Halloween with a certain amount of bittersweet melancholy. My son is past the Halloween stage of costumes and trick-or-treats.

No more excited anticipation to skip dinner and hit the neighborhood with a pack of boys and a pillowcase all in the name of massive candy acquisition.

No more piles of candy sorted by variety on my living room floor.

No more Ziploc bags full of butterfingers and kit-kats stored in my freezer for impromptu movie candy.

In the big picture the absence of candy is probably a good thing. I am not exactly known for my spectacular will power when it comes to treats (or pretty much anything else, but I digress).

However, I still hold fast to a few key Halloween traditions.

Pumpkin carving…a must have; although trips to the pumpkin patch have been replaced with grocery store pumpkins. And the half a dozen elaborate designs have now been relegated to a couple of simple jack-o-lanterns. Pumpkin carving is not easy on the hands of a chronic tye-dyer.

Pumpkin Seeds. Technically my spousal unit takes care of the cleaning and the roasting of said seeds. He roasts them a golden brown with tons of butter and garlic salt; a decadent yummy treat that has been known to make me sicker than a dog if eaten to excess. (Remember that will power statement from above). Yeah. I suck at willpower.

Full size candy bars. Yup. I am a “good house” and dole out full size candy bars. Parents hate me. Kids revere me.  Nothing says sugary excess like a basket full of full size candy bars. I only get about 40 kids a year…latecomers get a fun size treat. Better show up early to get the good stuff!

Perhaps I should pinch a full size Butterfinger for my own consumption. Yeah. Good plan. Definitely!

Worst Shows Ever

Yup. I’ve officially accumulated a streak of two bad shows who have officially taken the #1 and #2 spot of “Worst Show Ever.”

I didn’t think anything could beat the Fond du Lac debacle of 2008. But I was wrong.

I hate being wrong.

Both Watertown and New Berlin were little mini disasters with long drives and no buyers.

It’s too depressing to recount in detail.

With each show, fresh hope.

Interviewing

I've worked for the same company for 21 years.

That's a long time.

Longer than I've been married.

Double decades.

Long.

For reasons, which are unclear, I decided to apply to promotion. Wait, you say? A promotion? Apply for a promotion? Aren't promotions usually just given when deserved.

Apparently yes...to everyone else except me.  Now I don't want to be one of "those employees" who thinks they are all that and a bag of chips and should be promoted because they are more deserving then other employees.  I've been around the corporate block long to enough to know that when manager wants to bump someone up the corporate food chain, it happens. Auto-magically.  There is a tap-tap on the shoulder and Voila! Someone (else) has been bumped into double digit profit sharing.  I have a combination of phenomonally bad luck and bad timing when it comes to "right place at the right time" career syndrome.

Oh. Is my bitterness shining through.  Sorry. I know. I know. Sour grapes. But it's my blog and if you don't like it, I'll take my ball and go home!

So there!

The quick backstory. My department has folks that have slightly different levels of the same job. A higher graded position opened and I applied. Same job that I am doing today - just more money. Truly. The same. The same boss too. Same. 

Now if my manager had her druthers she would have probably just promoted me already - but her manager,  who is a tool and has yet to befall a non-fatal but slightly disfiguring accident, demands that God and everybody be interview for this position.  This includes external applicants. Don't even get me started on how I will feel if this position ends up being filled externally.

And so I get an interview.

Interviewing is roughly on par with taking a mind numbing math exam. There is alot of pressure to remember the correct formula for the perfect interview. The right answers solved quickly and expertly delivered with the right balance of perkiness and positivity. 

I'm pretty sure being flogged for 45 minutes wouldn't have been as painful.

Then...to add insult to injury...as if this process hasn't gone on long enough, it will be another month before a decision is made.  I applied in July. Interivew in October...decision sometime before I am dead and buried.

Or so I hope.

I've Fallen down the Project Hole

I have. For real. A combination project hole (the real job that pays the mortgage) and tye dye hole (the fun hobby that keeps me in pedicures).

I'll be back shortly.

I will.

Promise.

And it will be dazzling.

Hand to God.