2001-10-30 - 11:52 a.m.
On Monday, the Freakshow had to go to the vet for some minor surgery - a growth on her leg, that was getting bigger. So I took her on Saturday, and they told me they needed to do bloodwork, and then would schedule surgery. Ok, fine - bill for bloodwork, $110. Monday morning my Dad dropped her off, and I made the trek out to NJ last night so I could pick her up. I pay the surgery bill - $325. Then they take me into the exam room, so the skinny, grinning-skeleton looking vet (who I hate) can talk to me. And tell me that I should really have the dogs teeth cleaned. Which involves anesthesia, and another $200 vet bill. So I say that I've had her for 8 years, she was a stray, her teeth had that plaque when I got her, and it hadn't hurt her so far. Then they bring her in, and she's literally staggering from the anesthesia. Literally. So I say, "Look at her. Do you think it's really in her best interest to PUT HER UNDER to clean her teeth?" And he says, "Well, er...um.... next time, if she has to be put under for something else, we can do it then." Fucker. Between the Freakshow and my fightin' cat, I've dropped at least $1000 there this year. Such a racket. Anyway, the dog is fine (biopsy results by next week) although still a little out of it this morning. And my Dad, as soon as the dog got back into the house last night, had to feed her roast beef "to build her strength up. She hasn't eaten ALL DAY, you know." Heh.I also attended a rehearsal for my goddaughter's confirmation this weekend. Confirmation for the Catholic church. I am her sponsor, and I have to tell you, I feel like I have a glowing neon sign on my forehead that says Hypocrite. I agreed to do it because, in my family, the rites of passage are more ritual than religion. And I am very close to her, and her siblings - I am the one they come to when they are in trouble, or have a problem, or want to sleep over in the city and have ice cream delivered. (or when they want to get their belly buttons pierced, but that's another story) So I agreed to do it, and sat in the pew last night feeling very much like a big giant liar. My problems with Catholicism are myriad, but my sense of duty to my family is much stronger. So I will go, and put my hand on her shoulder, and give her a pinch when she's looking at boys instead of paying attention, and hope that I will not spontaneously combust when the Bishop enters. Anyway, after the practice I took five of them to the diner to eat. If you want to feel really old and out of it, go out to eat with five 14 year olds. Yikes. The giggling, the gossip, the comparing of cell phones... I felt like I should be wearing plaid elastic waist pants and a hearing aid.
And tonight is Halloween Eve. There's a lot of talk in the city about Halloween, and now an additional alert about terrorist attacks this week. My mother is telling me not to go out to the parade, to have the boyfriend come over and stay in my apartment. (Since my apartment is exactly one block from the Village Halloween Parade, I'm not sure what good this will do.) But here's the thing. I'm supposed to be going to The Game tomorrow night. The World Series. And, in accordance to my general beliefs about the whole fear thing, I'm planning on going. But I have to admit, I'm a little nervous. Any input? Put it in my guestbook, will you?
And last year on Halloween, I was in my apartment getting my face painted very elaborately with glitter by Beau, before dressing in leather and going out in the neighborhood to see the costumes and have a little fun. Guess those days are over.
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done - 2005-09-16
playgroup, my ass - 2005-09-15
late, but heartfelt - 2005-09-13
she lives - 2005-08-18
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