It is not a great secret that I am a huge Packers fan. A fan, like many others, who could almost be described as rabid. And yes, as many of you have witnessed, one so superstitious that I wore the same gold underwear for every Packers game I was able to watch this past year (even to Mary's baby shower!).
If you follow sports even remotely, you have probably seem some headline about the great Packers quarterback, Brett Favre. In March, following a disappointing loss in the NFC championship (which I refuse to believe happened), he announced he would retire from the NFL after 17 seasons. I was devastated. How could he hang up his cleats after one of his best seasons and having been so close to another Super Bowl? (It also didn't help when someone told me it "would happen eventually", but that someone has since been forgiven and all is forgotten)...
Following this retirement announcement, I had time to reflect on my football fandom. There isn't a football memory of mine where I do not remember Favre being under center for the Packers. He started his consecutive games streak in 1992. I was 12 and in 7th grade. I remember a few Super Bowls before that, but I wasn't quite into sports like I am now. It was weird to think that my football life had revolved solely around one person for so long. I guess it's like the Steelers fans giving up Coach Cowher. A long time passing on...
Fast forward to July. Recently, it has become known that Favre would like to return to football. Some say he was pressured into retirement, some say he is just waffling. Regardless, I was excited at the prospect of having him back in the league as I have always felt he was a dynamic player of epic (ok, maybe not that great, but it sounded good) proportions. Fun to watch...entertaining...thrilling. I actually was with that same someone that I was with on the day he retired and we chatted about the prospect of his return.
That conversation took a look at both sides. On one hand, from Favre's perspective, it's hard to quit something that has been such a part of your life for so long. He can still play the game better than (easily) 60% of the starting QBs in the NFL. The Packers still have an excellent shot at going to the Super Bowl this year. Yeah, you might want to go out at the top of your game, but what if you got to that one more game this year that truly is the top? Although, on the other hand, I can also see the team's perspective. They want to move on (eventually) and would like to start that process. Ultimately, the team will not have Favre and regardless of this year, there will be a day when he is not the core of the team. So, I can see that with his intention to retire being an issue, they wanted to move on. (And Matt Flynn being cut, you LSU fans, is not a reason to not want Favre back...but I understand.)
As the drama continues to unfold, I am torn. I would love nothing more than Favre to return for his 17th season as a Packer and lead them to a Super Bowl victory and truly go out as the best. The Packers want the best team they can have and I think Favre is a better option than an unproven, perpetual backup. Yes, Rodgers needs a chance and he will get one, maybe this year. I believe the team has a point in wanting to move on and there's no better time to start on tomorrow, today.
To me, however, it seems only fair to at least let there be a competition for the starting job. If Favre wants to come back, truly (and he seems to), and the Packers do not want him to fall into the hands of a rival (which is where he could go), then put him in the green and gold and let him prove that he is committed to the game and willing to take whatever means necessary to bring the Lombardi Trophy home to Green Bay.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Disgusting is a 6-letter word
Which word, you ask? It's actually a name - Rascal. Rascal is a little boy piggy and little boy parts and grossness come with the territory. Time and again, I have lamented about the sticky residue on my carpet or the not-so-pleasant odor coming from the corner with the lamp. Well, my friends, nothing compares to what I experienced tonight.
A common affliction in older boars (males) is impaction. As the name implies, the bowel muscles become weak with age and, kindly putting it, things get stuck. One will then need to go in with a q-tip and clean out the bowels and give nature a little bit of assistance. Rascal is not really all that old in guinea pig life...approaching 3. He's a little young for traditional impaction and consequently, I had not really prepared myself for being nature's little helper just yet. Younger boars, when marking their territory or attracting mates, tend to drag their bottoms along while excreting their little boy juices (hence my sticky carpet residue and strong odors). Sometimes the excitement lasts a little too long and the stickiness dries up and leaves the little boy parts exposed.
Tonight, Rascal is sniffing around the front of his cage indicating he wants to get out and play. I pick him up and check his belly lumps for oozing (he has a few lumps that are common in pigs), which I do nightly. Imagine my surprise when I look down and find something was standing at attention and pointing right up at me! Figuring he was having a moment of piggy pleasure, I let him down for a minute or so, thinking it'll pass. Nope, no such luck. Upon further inspection, I realize that we have a situation of dire proportions. Not only did he manage to get his penis stuck, presumably from the above mentioned rituals, but he also must have tried to get it unstuck and it is now further complicated with poo and litter and other nasty elements. The poor thing isn't complaining or seemingly in any pain, although, friends, if I had a penis that purple, I'd be crying.
As fate would have it, my mother isn't around to sucker into giving Rascal a bath and I am left to my own devices to free Willy. The things that ensued, following the realization that Rascal had gotten himself stuck, really should never be thought of again and God willing, shall never occur again. Let's just say, following a nice soak in soapy warm water and a little bit of coersion, Willy is a normal pink color and seems to reside happily back where he belongs. I am not sure how complete my job was and intend to lather the little one up again once or twice more this week to ensure complete relief to his boy area. All in a day's work.
A common affliction in older boars (males) is impaction. As the name implies, the bowel muscles become weak with age and, kindly putting it, things get stuck. One will then need to go in with a q-tip and clean out the bowels and give nature a little bit of assistance. Rascal is not really all that old in guinea pig life...approaching 3. He's a little young for traditional impaction and consequently, I had not really prepared myself for being nature's little helper just yet. Younger boars, when marking their territory or attracting mates, tend to drag their bottoms along while excreting their little boy juices (hence my sticky carpet residue and strong odors). Sometimes the excitement lasts a little too long and the stickiness dries up and leaves the little boy parts exposed.
Tonight, Rascal is sniffing around the front of his cage indicating he wants to get out and play. I pick him up and check his belly lumps for oozing (he has a few lumps that are common in pigs), which I do nightly. Imagine my surprise when I look down and find something was standing at attention and pointing right up at me! Figuring he was having a moment of piggy pleasure, I let him down for a minute or so, thinking it'll pass. Nope, no such luck. Upon further inspection, I realize that we have a situation of dire proportions. Not only did he manage to get his penis stuck, presumably from the above mentioned rituals, but he also must have tried to get it unstuck and it is now further complicated with poo and litter and other nasty elements. The poor thing isn't complaining or seemingly in any pain, although, friends, if I had a penis that purple, I'd be crying.
As fate would have it, my mother isn't around to sucker into giving Rascal a bath and I am left to my own devices to free Willy. The things that ensued, following the realization that Rascal had gotten himself stuck, really should never be thought of again and God willing, shall never occur again. Let's just say, following a nice soak in soapy warm water and a little bit of coersion, Willy is a normal pink color and seems to reside happily back where he belongs. I am not sure how complete my job was and intend to lather the little one up again once or twice more this week to ensure complete relief to his boy area. All in a day's work.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Stupid Sickness
This week has been absolute hell. Funny, considering it came on the tails of what was possibly the most awesome weekend ever! Monday afternoon, I became afflicted with a dull stomach cramping. Nothing too serious, but slightly bothersome to me later that evening after I had some trail mix in what should have been a prelude to actual food. Being a bit of a sickness pansy, I decided it best to curl up and get some sleep.
Tuesday rolls around...nothing out of the ordinary. Had coffee in the morning, went about my business. Jami and I got salad from Giant Eagle for lunch; my thinking that if I was in the early stages of a stomach bug, I wanted something relatively inane for lunch. (Side note: Jami had just gotten over a pretty nasty bug herself, so I had been trying preemptively strike against what she had all weekend...although, honestly, this was limited to Friday with copious amounts of alcohol). Lunch comes and goes and by late afternoon, the stomach cramping had reached a more noxious level. A nuisance, if you will. Since Tuesday is my run day, I refused to let my stomach win, so I took some Tylenol (I had eaten, so it should be ok) and went for the standard 2 miles.
Following my run, I head home and am greeted with what I consider the death and dying phase. Possibly, the running only accentuated the noxious stomach cramping, but by 7, I was pleading with Leah to come shoot me and put me out of my misery. I went so far as to bequeath her my purse collection and any of my clothing that she could wear (Mary, you can have my pants). I laid down, in complete and utter misery, for about three hours. Mind you, there has been no food consumption since lunch. After realizing how disgusting I still was from running, I decided to take a bath. I managed that, and even washed my hair, VERY carefully. Dried my hair and crawled back into bed.
Tuesday night was even worse than the death and dying phase. Trying to get back to sleep was awful...listened to my mp3 player for a good hour or so before I was even remotely close. I was curling up in fetal positions any which way to try and dull the pain. Every hour, at least, I woke up and honest to goodness, could feel the cramping moving along my gastrointestinal tract. I remember thinking, ooh, maybe it'll have moved a few inches along this time! There was even a point in the middle of the night that I laid out on my hallway floor (it's really cool right there and nice and supportive on my aching back).
Wednesday morning rolls around. Wednesday being the day of the Student Appreciation Luncheon at work. That being something, as the chair of the Social Committee, for which I really should be present. I email my boss and the secretaries and plan to head in around 10, which should give me another hour or so of sleep. I wasn't feeling all that bad at this point, but quite fatigued. Get into work and had completely forgotten the parking lot by my office was blocked for tree trimming. Pain in the ass. Thankfully, there was one space in the gravel lot left. If I had to walk from the chapel or community center, I was going home!
The picnic went well, thanks to much help from many people. Lord knows I would have passed out if I did too much of it on my own. I even dared to eat a piece of pizza and some homemade ice cream, figuring if I felt crappy, I could go home! Actually, the plan all along was to head home around 2, giving me a half-day at work and some more time to recuperate from the illness. I made it until 2:30, somewhat surprisingly, but after I picked up some things for Rascal, I came home.
Thankfully, things seem to have passed with my 5 hour naptime this afternoon. I even managed to do a load of laundry in there, having put it in before I went to sleep and hanging it out/drying one of the times I woke up (although I didn't actually run the dryer, so I just did that when I woke up at 9). And just now at 11pm, I felt hungry and had some cereal. It'll be a while until I want to fall asleep, but since things seem to be functioning correctly, I thought it safe to eat.
Well, friends, thank you for listening to my 48 hour horror that my boss seems to think is a result of food poisoning. After all, he is a doctor, of sorts. :)
Tuesday rolls around...nothing out of the ordinary. Had coffee in the morning, went about my business. Jami and I got salad from Giant Eagle for lunch; my thinking that if I was in the early stages of a stomach bug, I wanted something relatively inane for lunch. (Side note: Jami had just gotten over a pretty nasty bug herself, so I had been trying preemptively strike against what she had all weekend...although, honestly, this was limited to Friday with copious amounts of alcohol). Lunch comes and goes and by late afternoon, the stomach cramping had reached a more noxious level. A nuisance, if you will. Since Tuesday is my run day, I refused to let my stomach win, so I took some Tylenol (I had eaten, so it should be ok) and went for the standard 2 miles.
Following my run, I head home and am greeted with what I consider the death and dying phase. Possibly, the running only accentuated the noxious stomach cramping, but by 7, I was pleading with Leah to come shoot me and put me out of my misery. I went so far as to bequeath her my purse collection and any of my clothing that she could wear (Mary, you can have my pants). I laid down, in complete and utter misery, for about three hours. Mind you, there has been no food consumption since lunch. After realizing how disgusting I still was from running, I decided to take a bath. I managed that, and even washed my hair, VERY carefully. Dried my hair and crawled back into bed.
Tuesday night was even worse than the death and dying phase. Trying to get back to sleep was awful...listened to my mp3 player for a good hour or so before I was even remotely close. I was curling up in fetal positions any which way to try and dull the pain. Every hour, at least, I woke up and honest to goodness, could feel the cramping moving along my gastrointestinal tract. I remember thinking, ooh, maybe it'll have moved a few inches along this time! There was even a point in the middle of the night that I laid out on my hallway floor (it's really cool right there and nice and supportive on my aching back).
Wednesday morning rolls around. Wednesday being the day of the Student Appreciation Luncheon at work. That being something, as the chair of the Social Committee, for which I really should be present. I email my boss and the secretaries and plan to head in around 10, which should give me another hour or so of sleep. I wasn't feeling all that bad at this point, but quite fatigued. Get into work and had completely forgotten the parking lot by my office was blocked for tree trimming. Pain in the ass. Thankfully, there was one space in the gravel lot left. If I had to walk from the chapel or community center, I was going home!
The picnic went well, thanks to much help from many people. Lord knows I would have passed out if I did too much of it on my own. I even dared to eat a piece of pizza and some homemade ice cream, figuring if I felt crappy, I could go home! Actually, the plan all along was to head home around 2, giving me a half-day at work and some more time to recuperate from the illness. I made it until 2:30, somewhat surprisingly, but after I picked up some things for Rascal, I came home.
Thankfully, things seem to have passed with my 5 hour naptime this afternoon. I even managed to do a load of laundry in there, having put it in before I went to sleep and hanging it out/drying one of the times I woke up (although I didn't actually run the dryer, so I just did that when I woke up at 9). And just now at 11pm, I felt hungry and had some cereal. It'll be a while until I want to fall asleep, but since things seem to be functioning correctly, I thought it safe to eat.
Well, friends, thank you for listening to my 48 hour horror that my boss seems to think is a result of food poisoning. After all, he is a doctor, of sorts. :)
Monday, June 30, 2008
Nightly Rituals
Every night at 11pm, 98 Rock (Baltimore) has Mandatory Metallica. Every night at 11pm, Rascal and I put on the radio and rock out. This nightly tradition is a long-standing ritual of mine, as 105.7 the X and 98 Rock have both had Mandatory Metallica nightly for years. There was a time when Mandatory Metallica was at 9pm and incredibly difficult to regularly enjoy. The 11pm start time is fabulous for a night owl such as myself and a large part of my winding down process.
Back when I was 13 or so, Becki introduced me to Metallica (or reintroduced as my half-brother listened to them when I was much younger). She liked to listen to the Black Album before bed and subsquently, I began to do the same after many overnights at her house during the summertime. Strangely, my night is not complete without a three-song set of Metallica before bed.
Recently, my shower radio died. I did a little surgery and was able to repair the electronics and new batteries finished the job. Unfortunately, my repair skills are largely amateur, at best, and I have a very limited range of stations compared to the previously functional shower radio. One of my greatest losses is the loss of 98 Rock in the shower. This is disheartening for a night like tonight when I have yet to shower, but must listen to Mandatory Metallica before bed.
Anyway, friends, I realize this is an aimless rambling about a relatively inane part of my life, but I wanted to post something and was at a loss for anything substantial. Hopefully, this week will serve as inspiration for something new and exciting!
Back when I was 13 or so, Becki introduced me to Metallica (or reintroduced as my half-brother listened to them when I was much younger). She liked to listen to the Black Album before bed and subsquently, I began to do the same after many overnights at her house during the summertime. Strangely, my night is not complete without a three-song set of Metallica before bed.
Recently, my shower radio died. I did a little surgery and was able to repair the electronics and new batteries finished the job. Unfortunately, my repair skills are largely amateur, at best, and I have a very limited range of stations compared to the previously functional shower radio. One of my greatest losses is the loss of 98 Rock in the shower. This is disheartening for a night like tonight when I have yet to shower, but must listen to Mandatory Metallica before bed.
Anyway, friends, I realize this is an aimless rambling about a relatively inane part of my life, but I wanted to post something and was at a loss for anything substantial. Hopefully, this week will serve as inspiration for something new and exciting!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Slacky McSlackerson
At least I forewarned everyone that I would be terrible at this blogging thing. Alas, I feel guilty for not giving you something to ponder in almost an entire week. It is late, however, so this may be short.
Today was a boring day at work. So boring, in fact, that my coworkers bailed at 2:30 and left me all alone for 2 and a half hours! Alone is perfectly ok, as I can meander around the lab at my own leisure and not worry about "looking" busy when clearly, I am not. It also allows me to wander the halls and whatnot, like only I can enjoy.
Lunch, on the other hand, was fabulous. We finally made it to Friscos; I had been intensely craving Friscos after many of my RIID counterparts went on Monday (which coincidentally, was the day Leah and her coworkers also visited). I got the usual Twin Peaks, although felt it was slightly smaller than the last time I was there (in January when Mary and Larry visited). My mistake, though, was allowing my will to succumb to the Way Cool Ice Cream. I could not resist a fresh twist cone. Mmm. But, it was way too big (the regular is huge) and after all the cheese on the potato, my body was not happy with more milk products. Regardless, WAY worth it.
My weekend was wonderful, which I think has helped the week seem less awful. Saturday, I joined 7 of my RIID counterparts and/or spouses at the wine festival. Much fun was had playing dinosaurs with the son of one post-doc and trying to prevent him from rolling on all of the snacks we brought to munch on while absorbing wine. This month's Jazz event was far less crowded than last month's Caribbean festival and consequently, allowed for a pleasant drinking experience. The weather was also fabulous and I was able to wear my newest fabulous sundress. A smaller group of us ventured to Cacique for dinner, where I finally branched out to the Spanish menu and enjoyed a Tilapia dish. All things considering, it was a most wonderful day.
Sunday was my first soccer game in three weeks. We were slated to play a competitive division team (our team is intermediate, but as that division has gotten more competitive, we are somewhat bruised and beaten in the ranks). Saturday, a friend was asking how soccer went and I candidly offered that we hadn't won a game all session (save the two wins by forfeit, although the ensuing games still resulted in losses) and giving the team we were schedule to play Sunday, we'd end the session winless as well. Much to my surprises, we won. The other team did not show. We only had 4 players of our own, but two from a team we will be merging with in the fall. A few competitive players were there for board duty or early for their game, so we played a 4 competitive vs 6 intermediate (us) game with Em's husband, John playing in our goal. We had to shoot on cones in the goal, but only received points if we shot outside the cones placed about 2 feet inside the goal posts...super hard! At the end of a very well played game, and all things considering, we were victorious, 4-3. Imagine how fun it was to tell that friend today that we did, in fact, win our game!
Finally, I drove to PA Sunday evening to have a small birthday celebration for my father. His birthday is actually tomorrow, the 26th, but due to the upcoming crazy weekend planning, I was unsure if I would make it home. His birthday present had come Saturday and I was very excited to share what I found. Dad grew up on Cloverland Dairy Farms that his father managed in Ohio, PA and in Baltimore. On Ebay, I found these burlap cups, encased in plastic, that were promotional containers for cream cheese from the Baltimore dairies in probably the 50s. One lid still has the original label stating it was Cloverland's Baltimore dairy. I try to keep an eye out for rare collectibles from Cloverland for the growing collection at home, that includes a milk box and several milk bottles. With the cups and a bottle of wine from the festival, I was all set to give Dad a sweet surprise. Imagine my disappointment when I mention to my mother that I was excited for Dad to get his present and she says something about whether or not I could pull him away from her present. What did my mother get my father for his birthday, you ask? A tractor. That's what. I cannot compete with a tractor. Alas, the luster and joy of my present was quickly forgotten as the child in my father couldn't wait to show me his newest toy and how he rearranged the barn so it could fit inside away from the elements. At least he did say that he had never seen the cups before and thought they'd be good to set up pudding.
Well, friends, it's that time. Happy Birthday, today, to my high school best friend, Becki. It has been almost an entire year since we spoke, so I hope maybe we can reconnect soon. And tomorrow, birthday wishes to my father, my mom's oldest sister - Aunt Florence (yep girls, I really DO have an Aunt Flo), and my bestest bestest, Susannah. Until next time...
Today was a boring day at work. So boring, in fact, that my coworkers bailed at 2:30 and left me all alone for 2 and a half hours! Alone is perfectly ok, as I can meander around the lab at my own leisure and not worry about "looking" busy when clearly, I am not. It also allows me to wander the halls and whatnot, like only I can enjoy.
Lunch, on the other hand, was fabulous. We finally made it to Friscos; I had been intensely craving Friscos after many of my RIID counterparts went on Monday (which coincidentally, was the day Leah and her coworkers also visited). I got the usual Twin Peaks, although felt it was slightly smaller than the last time I was there (in January when Mary and Larry visited). My mistake, though, was allowing my will to succumb to the Way Cool Ice Cream. I could not resist a fresh twist cone. Mmm. But, it was way too big (the regular is huge) and after all the cheese on the potato, my body was not happy with more milk products. Regardless, WAY worth it.
My weekend was wonderful, which I think has helped the week seem less awful. Saturday, I joined 7 of my RIID counterparts and/or spouses at the wine festival. Much fun was had playing dinosaurs with the son of one post-doc and trying to prevent him from rolling on all of the snacks we brought to munch on while absorbing wine. This month's Jazz event was far less crowded than last month's Caribbean festival and consequently, allowed for a pleasant drinking experience. The weather was also fabulous and I was able to wear my newest fabulous sundress. A smaller group of us ventured to Cacique for dinner, where I finally branched out to the Spanish menu and enjoyed a Tilapia dish. All things considering, it was a most wonderful day.
Sunday was my first soccer game in three weeks. We were slated to play a competitive division team (our team is intermediate, but as that division has gotten more competitive, we are somewhat bruised and beaten in the ranks). Saturday, a friend was asking how soccer went and I candidly offered that we hadn't won a game all session (save the two wins by forfeit, although the ensuing games still resulted in losses) and giving the team we were schedule to play Sunday, we'd end the session winless as well. Much to my surprises, we won. The other team did not show. We only had 4 players of our own, but two from a team we will be merging with in the fall. A few competitive players were there for board duty or early for their game, so we played a 4 competitive vs 6 intermediate (us) game with Em's husband, John playing in our goal. We had to shoot on cones in the goal, but only received points if we shot outside the cones placed about 2 feet inside the goal posts...super hard! At the end of a very well played game, and all things considering, we were victorious, 4-3. Imagine how fun it was to tell that friend today that we did, in fact, win our game!
Finally, I drove to PA Sunday evening to have a small birthday celebration for my father. His birthday is actually tomorrow, the 26th, but due to the upcoming crazy weekend planning, I was unsure if I would make it home. His birthday present had come Saturday and I was very excited to share what I found. Dad grew up on Cloverland Dairy Farms that his father managed in Ohio, PA and in Baltimore. On Ebay, I found these burlap cups, encased in plastic, that were promotional containers for cream cheese from the Baltimore dairies in probably the 50s. One lid still has the original label stating it was Cloverland's Baltimore dairy. I try to keep an eye out for rare collectibles from Cloverland for the growing collection at home, that includes a milk box and several milk bottles. With the cups and a bottle of wine from the festival, I was all set to give Dad a sweet surprise. Imagine my disappointment when I mention to my mother that I was excited for Dad to get his present and she says something about whether or not I could pull him away from her present. What did my mother get my father for his birthday, you ask? A tractor. That's what. I cannot compete with a tractor. Alas, the luster and joy of my present was quickly forgotten as the child in my father couldn't wait to show me his newest toy and how he rearranged the barn so it could fit inside away from the elements. At least he did say that he had never seen the cups before and thought they'd be good to set up pudding.
Well, friends, it's that time. Happy Birthday, today, to my high school best friend, Becki. It has been almost an entire year since we spoke, so I hope maybe we can reconnect soon. And tomorrow, birthday wishes to my father, my mom's oldest sister - Aunt Florence (yep girls, I really DO have an Aunt Flo), and my bestest bestest, Susannah. Until next time...
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