beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (*facepalm*)
So my mom is catsitting this week for my aunt while she's in California, right? (Why my aunt is in California is a big long story to do with the fact that my OTHER aunt on my mother's side and her husband are moving there to help his MS. I might post about that eventually.)

And my sister left today around 2ish to go to her class at 4 p.m. I know she hasn't been home since, given that I've been here the whole time.

(It was looking more and more like I'd miss my second instructor; and eventually I decided that going to school for a locker and a campus card was pointless, since I have three free hours between classes tomorrow, so I did some cleaning and laundry today instead.)

She called around 8:30, but I was napping and missed the call. Now it's eleven, and she's still not home. She didn't leave a message on the phone (or if she meant to, it wasn't saved - our handset died completely when I tried to call her at 9:30, so who knows), and when I call her, I just get her voicemail.

WTF kid, where are you?! IT'S A SCHOOL NIGHT.

Arrgh, I HAVE to go to bed soon, or I'll have a repeat of today. She had just BETTER get home within the next hour.

I'm getting really tired of my sister waltzing in at all wee hours.

Edit: Okay, okay, she just got home. 11:30, sheesh.
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." ([DW] ALIENS PLEASE LAND HERE)
Notes for the new Doctor Who episode (probably mostly uninteresting to anyone but myself, SPOILERS obviously). I took these while watching, so this can mostly be seen as following my thought process, not a summary of my reactions.

S4x03 - 'The Planet of the Ood' )

Got my grandfather's 70th birthday to go to today, so I got the day off work. I haven't slept yet, so just imagine what exciting things I'll be doing when we come home.
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." ([DW] K9 - good boy!)
Dog update: I think Wicket's fate (with us, anyway) is finally settled.

I came home tonight from our store's [post-] Christmas staff party at Treasures of China (note to self: peking duck is kind of gross, and pina coladas are gooood), and discovered Wicket fenced into the kitchen again.

It seems my aunt has really faced the fact that she can't keep him. Despite following the best advice she's been able to get from people who own both dogs and cats, all her animals have been miserable with each other. Even Wicket, she found, was starting to get down about the fact that he couldn't get the cats to play with him. And her condo simply isn't big enough for them to avoid each other. She says (Mom reports) that she knows she can't leave all three animals in this unhappy situation.

But Wicket isn't going to end up staying with us. Mom's firm on this, to the point of inventing stories about what a Bad Dog he is. (Apparently, his sister is already perfectly paper-trained, while Wicket is still wickedly wetting the floor. Oh, and Wicket BARKS when he plays. TRUFAX. *eyerolls* I asked her to tell me if she's ever met a dog that doesn't bark when it gets wound up playing.)

And my sister is adamant that our household shouldn't have a dog. ("And besides, he's a real wall-eyed little bastard.") I defended his cuteness despite the strabismus, which just resulted in mockery of my convergence insufficiency. ("You and your dog are both lazy-eyed!") TEH WORLD IZ KONSPYEREEN WOE.

So my aunt has asked my mother to take Wicket back to the breeder for her. She evidently feels that if Wicket stays with her, she'll never find the steel to take him back herself, so she told my mother to take Wicket away from her, as soon as possible.

So he's here for the night, and going back to the breeder on Monday.

A part of me is still upset to part with him when we've just given him an identity, but I feel a lot better nevertheless knowing that he WON'T be cooped up in a kennel and neglected all day at my aunt's.

We'll be sending him back with a "care package" including the toys and treats and things he's collected in the past week and the finished dog sweater (which is a bit too big, but he'll obviously grow into it). And I plan to make up a list of links about stabismus/eye disorders in dogs for Wicket's next owner - I'll get Mom to stick that in with his stuff somewhere.

Oh! And he's doing better about peeing on his pads today! When I came downstairs after my bath tonight I said hello to him and noticed he was starting to smell funny, so I picked him up and put him on the nearest pad.

Instead, he waddled over to the other one himself and peed. I gave him lots of ear scratches and pets for that, and got him a doggy biscuit. They're far too big for him, so I broke them up into itty-bitty pieces and left him to it.

It occurred to me about ten minutes later though that he could choke on them, and I wouldn't hear it down here in the basement. Irrational, since I'm sure his kibble bits are bigger than the chunks I left him, but I popped upstairs quickly to check on him just in case.

And he's pooped on the pad! He's NEVER done that before! He's always gone on the carpet.

Might send him back a bit better trained after all!

*iz proud of Wicket*

Dog update

Feb. 2nd, 2008 02:38 am
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." ([DW] K9 - good boy!)
Well, THAT was short-lived. Doesn't look like we'll be keeping the dog, after all. I have no idea what's going to happen, actually.

Thursday morning, things were looking relatively hopeful. Wicket slept through MOST of the night - he woke my Mom up whimpering around 7 a.m., but hey, that's still a decent number of hours. (I honestly can't recall when he went to bed - I think it was midnight, though.)

And the cats were doing a bit better about him, too - Manhattan bravely faced off with him a single stair away, until he charged her playfully. Then she retreated. Callisto even came within a foot of me holding him (begging for pets, as usual). Although he was careful to circle around my back (watching Wicket warily), and when he made eye contact with the dog after making his way around the front, he hissed and ran away again. Wuss.

Still, they were coming closer. (Mom suggested we could put him in one of our little kennels and let them sniff, since HE'S not at all afraid of THEM.) And they seem remarkably unperturbed by the fact that he insists on drinking from their water fountain. Mom got me to help her measure him, and his little doggy sweater is 99% finished today - she just needs to finish the buttons.

Then Thursday night, it all went to hell )

In the morning, Mom informed me that after THAT night, there is No Way we are keeping Wicket. She got - le gasp! - three hours of sleep, she tells me. (A fact which admittedly hardly rouses my sympathy, given how little sleep I've often gotten in the past few years because of work and school schedules. I wanted to tell her, "Great, do that for several more days in a row, and THEN you can complain.")

Just to prove how tired she was, Mom proceeded to be an absolutely evil bitch for the rest of the day. Like, oh, A CRANKY TODDLER. *grits teeth, pulls hair* I'd LOVE to see her in the service industry!


Me: So I guess it's a good thing you can't return children, eh? Babies are a lot more work than this.

Mom: You guys were better than this dog.

Me: Are you suggesting we wouldn't be here if we hadn't been?


She also told me that if Wicket didn't sleep well tonight, I could stay up with him. Which...uh, NO. If we (meaning me) aren't keeping the damn dog, I am NOT sacrificing MY sleep for HER [irresponsible] sister's dog. I, unlike the rest of the household, have a job to get up for.

(Oh yes, and dear mother complained to me too that she'd have to watch the dog in the daytime if we owned it. Considering that she depends on MY INCOME, I'd think she could manage to watch the dog. Ultimately, when he's out of puppyhood, he'd be barely more work than our cats - all four of which we specifically chose because they're highly social. And she's already watching the cats in the daytime.)

TONIGHT, Wicket is well again, and fenced into the kitchen rather than my mother's bathroom. Which works well enough, since he can only piddle and poop on tile, where it's easier to clean up. (Oh, and he's very cute crashed on his side.)

And my mother tells me that HEATHER WANTS TO KEEP HIM! *dead* WTF?!?

Mom: So we'll be "Doggy Day-care" until her cats are used to him. He'll stay there at night, but we'll take him some days so her cats get a break.

Me: More like "Puppy Foster Care for Puppies from a Broken Home." I did NOT sign up for that if we're not keeping him. This is bullshit - she can't just leave the care of him to us while she "owns" him.

Mom: Oh, like YOU'D have to worry about that. You're never HERE. You can't have a dog and never BE here.

Then she told me she's going to dig out the big kennel we used when we first got the kittens, so Heather can "crate-train" Wicket.




Jan. 31st, 2008 04:47 am
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." ([DW] K9 - good boy!)
So, latest news:

I might - mightmightMIGHT - be getting...

...a dog.

Well, a puppy. Still, a DOG. It's very, very up in the air right now.

You see, it was going to be my aunt's dog. She lives in a condo with two fluffy black-and-white cats already - Daga and Indy (and yes, they ARE named after race tracks, in case you were wondering) - but apparently her friend is a dog fanatic, and convinced Heather [my aunt] to get the brother of the little female dog she just bought from a local breeder.

And I'm all kinds of mad about that, because from the sounds of it, Heather didn't seriously consider this decision at all. Just...laid down the $900 for it, and bought the dog.

Although luckily, it sounds as if the breeder is VERY responsible and caring, and she offers a full-money-back guarantee on her dogs for the first 2 years. After that point, she will not give your $900 back...but she WILL take back the dog, no matter how old. She will not let her dogs be chucked out on a freeway somewhere. I like that.

It's a bichon/shitzu ("shichon", apparently) and terrier mix (I'm guessing a Yorkie), and Heather even has a tentative name for him. (Wicket, after the Ewok who befriended Princess Leia in Return of the Jedi. Being the Star Wars geek that I am, I approve.) He really does look a bit like an Ewok - snub-nosed, with a heavy eyebrow ridge and bright little black eyes. His coat is mostly golden/tan, with a little bit of black, especially on his tail...that's probably the terrier influence.

And Indy, despite being a coward at first, was getting used to the dog enough that he'd come close enough to taunt it. But it turns out that Daga...isn't eating as long as Wicket is in the condo. Apparently, the dog is between her and her food dish. And she won't come out of her hiding spot to eat.

Heather is deeply distraught and guilt-ridden over this, and contacted the breeder, Collette, to let her know that she would have to return the pup. (Collette: "Sometimes, you know, cats can take up to a month to get used to a dog in the house." Heather: "Um, my cat can't not eat for a month.")

Evidently her friend Colleen (the one with the sister dog) was supposed to pick up and hang on to Wicket until Saturday, when Heather can take him back to Collette. But she flaked out on Heather. So when my mom and I came back tonight from a dinner out at Swiss Chalet, we got an emergency call from Make One (where my aunt works part-time), which turned out to be Heather begging us to take him tonight.

Which of COURSE we did. We'd never turn a stray (human or otherwise) out.

After some discussion on the phone, my aunt is now seriously offering him to me. (Not my mother, because my mom could never afford it.) She's suggested I could pay the $900 to her in installments. (In actual fact, I could do the lump sum, but installments might be a better plan when I have rent and board to pay, plus my Dexedrine prescriptions, so I may just go with the installment plan if I do this.)

Mom and I will have to discuss this with Collette, and my sister would have to agree. (She's already expressed some opposition, although that seemed to center mostly around how our cats would react...she was worried they'd respond like Daga.) And of course our cats would have to show that they could adjust.

But yeah, we might do it.

My lap didn't need a dog, but... )

We will be keeping him until Saturday at least, so we'll see how that all goes.

Opinions, anyone? Keep the dog for a trial run, yes or no?

[Poll #1130521]
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (jesus...)
I've spent most of the night picking through various poetry communities, including [ profile] greatpoets. And I was there when I discovered this piece.

And oh my god, this hurts, hurts, hurts...

Hurts in a way that requires reading over and over.

Maybe I overdid it when I called my father an enemy of humanity )
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (uncertainty - you are here)
A personal essay of sorts I wanted to record:

A lengthy history of my relationship with my sister and art )
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (jesus...)
I've always wondered how I would feel if a member of my immediate family - my mother, my father or my sister - died.

Most people probably wouldn't wonder. But I never felt much of anything when various members of my extended family died. I very rarely "miss" anyone - and I'm still not entirely certain I experience that emotion the same way that others do. I've never felt "homesick" as the dictionary defines it. I've had it implied more than once - including by one head doc - that I'm abnormally emotionless and robotic.

So I had to wonder. But I think I've finally gotten one-third of my answer.

I crawled into bed Sunday morning a few hours before I needed to get up for work.

And I had the most horrible dream )
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (Default)
I don't have a lot of time or energy to go into much detail on this, but I have a diagnosis. I was going to wait until Dr. Y had written up her report and everything, but apparently there's no need, because she told me Tuesday what diagnosis she's going to put on it, and that it's unchangeable at this point:

ADHD - Predominantly Inattentive Type, Mild-Moderate Severity

She said that there's "no doubt" in her mind that this is my diagnosis, that she's completely convinced. She said this is backed up by all of the following being consistent with my presenting complaint (ADD symptoms):

-the screeners I was given from Disability Services at school
-the screeners she had me fill out
-all my self-ratings, stories and explanations in her office, which she says are "highly reflective of ADD symptoms."
-comments on school report cards (She translated some "teacher-speak" for my amusement. "Do you know what 'has a delightful sense of humour, needs to learn to display it at appropriate times' means?" "Er, no. What?" "That you were blurting things out!")
-my mother's retrospective rating of me in childhood
-[most surprisingly] my behaviour in her office

...Honestly, I thought that I had been very non-ADD in her office, but she says that I VISIBLY tuned out numerous times per session. She actually did a pretty hilarious imitation of me, saying that I'd be looking her right in the eye, she'd ask a question, and after several seconds of silence in which I simply looked at her, I'd suddenly snap to, "dear in the headlights" and say, "What? What was the question?!" "Hel-LO!"

And she opened her eyes up really wide, like I know I have a tendency to do when I'm confused. *laff*

...Which is funny, because I DO remember asking her several times to repeat herself, but in my perception, there was no time gap between her asking the question, and my asking for a repeat. She asked, but it didn't process for some reason, so I was just asking again. (Mostly as a time filler - I tend to ask people to repeat themselves so I can figure out what all those noises meant the first time.)

Anywhoo. I have it, it's official. And my father's response? She basically tossed it out the window, and said, "Your father doesn't know you very well, does he?", he doesn't.

Part of me can't WAIT to tell him my brain is broken, and there's nothing he can do about what the doctor says. Bastard.

Big shocking revelation of late - related )
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (Default)
My father's retrospective rating of my ADHD symptoms )

Not for the first time, I feel like my father doesn't know who I am at all.
beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (Default)
ARRGH, I finally got the time to write out my last observations on my last session with Dr. Y, and THE POWER WENT OUT. Gaaah.

Okay, trying again:

Last night, my mother and I went over a "Retrospective Behaviour Checklist for Parents" together that Dr. Y gave to me to have Mom fill out. This is so she knows if my symptoms have been consistent from childhood.

When Dr. Y and I were going over a similar checklist together, we came up with 7/9 inattentive symptoms that are currently giving me grief, and 2/9 hyper/impulsive symptoms, those two being "talks excessively" and "often feels physically restless." Although it's really only the latter one that's actually a problem sometimes, because I can have a hard time sitting still enough to do work. I mostly let Dr. Y interpret the severity of my H/I symptoms, because that's not at all what I went in there for. I didn't go in trying to present myself as a hyper or impulsive adult, just an inattentive one. I never thought that I'd been anything other than an "absent-minded professor." (As my mother has called me for years.)

I did note at one point to Dr. Y that my social life as a child was utter hell - every damn kid in the school hated my guts. She asked me why that was, and I honestly couldn't tell her. I can't remember my childhood! I did say that I remember that I always seemed to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, and was burned for it. Her interpretation was that this was impulsivity at work, but I didn't agree. I insisted that I was only missing social cues. She was forced to agree that the picture I presented in her office was not impulsive whatsoever - that I was calm and quiet (without being timid) and answered her in a measured way.

My mother has a VERY different story to tell - warning, long as hell )

Okay, so according to her...I was actually quite impulsive. She was very certain of this, even more than she was certain I was a "space cadet" as a child. At least this clears up the mystery of why the other kids didn't like me, and why descriptions of "inattentive type" children never felt right. I didn't quite meet the diagnostic criteria for Combined type as a kid - taking my mother's "lowest" responses (safe side), I come out with 6/9 inattentive, 5/9 hyperactive-impulsive, just sub-threshold. Not being the "bouncing off the walls" kid, you know.

But this makes sense, and feels right. I feel so validated, somehow! I've been trying to come up with 71-bajillion other reasons for why I fling myself around so much when no one's watching, and why I need to excuse myself from dinner tables and so on for secretive "movement breaks." I read that the "only" inattentive types only move around because they are anxious. I've been trying, awkwardly, to make this fit my experience, but it doesn't.

Now I know! Although apparently I've outgrown and internalized my impulsivity to a large degree, something that Dr. Y and I discussed.

She's worried about my self-image )


beandelphiki: Animated icon of the TARDIS from the British television show, "Doctor Who." (Default)

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