One is the loneliest number

Oh happy day, my little dog Binnie went from two eyes to one today. She seems fine. I cried like a baby at various times in the day

Binnie is my dog, I picked her out at the city pound on Valentine's Day when she was a scant eight weeks old and I was newly moved to St. Louis. She has defied me at every turn since then, but I do so love her and I feel like I've failed her.

You may recall she had an abrupt retinal detachment last spring of her left eye? And then that same eye got glaucoma, which is like winning the shit lottery twice, because with glaucoma if you don't keep the pressures under control the eye starts to SWELL and it hurts like a mother.

Swell it did. Until it was really just a red, roving mass of stinkeye. The vet recommended we give up the sham and just remove the blind eye and put her out of her discomfort.

I agreed.

Today was the big day. She went in at 7 and came out at 6, minus one red oozy orb.

The most disturbing comments have come from the children.

Griffin: "If my eye gets sick, are you going to do that to me?" No, sweetie, for you we would spring for the glass eye.
Cooper: "Will she wear a patch like a pirate?" Only if she plans on running away to join the navy or something.

The worst indignancy? They sent her home with a big pink bandana around her neck, like she'd won some sort of dog rodeo beauty contest. How rude.

I'm sorry, Binnie.

- H

Dear God: Just give me a heads up, would you?

We're Lutheran. I'm not so much Lutheran as not Lutheran, but my kin is Lutheran and since I'm of them, then I'm Lutheran, too. So, being a good Lutheran who isn't, I insist on going to church on Christmas Eve. Since I'm also the one who isn't, I typically just follow my parents around the globe and wherever they're going for Christmas Eve service, that's where I end up, and then my clingons follow me, and so on and so on.

This year we were at a fairly progressive Lutheran church. The pastor wore fancy jeans.

They sing songs with the karaoke screens that show you the lyrics, and they're usually songs that have been adulterated somehow. Not "Away in a Manger" or anything. No, we had a soloist (this alone I could write about for hours, but I will refrain) sing something about "Where's the Line for Jesus?" It's in the mall somewhere, according to her.

The pastor's pretty good at the talking parts. His messaging is pretty cool. So I was paying close attention when he started talking about Christmas lists and what you've asked for, and he said something like this: "God gives you what you need, not what you ask for." And then he launched into the Prayer of the Confederate Soldier, what with its message of be careful what you wish for and all.

And that's when the cold chill ran down my spine.

Hey, God. I am totally on board with you. I just really really could use a year where there isn't as much trauma as there has been the previous years. I can totally handle some hardship. Just look at the past few years! I've managed to keep my head afloat and my family's heads, too, right? And most of the time, except for large chunks of it, I have even maintained a pretty good attitude about it all. Right? OK, whatever, maybe not, I won't try to lie to you since you're God and all.

I'm just saying, maybe this upcoming year could be the Year of Heather? Kind of like the Year of the Goat, except different? And if you've decided 2011 isn't going to be the Year of Heather, could you at least float some sort of warning sign, like a flare in the night or something, so I can get my disaster preparedness kit ready? Cause you know how much I like to plan for the Worst Case Scenario.

There are a couple topics I'd like to really avoid in 2011 if at all possible. In no particular order, let's just say violence, famine, death, drugs, guns, cancer, cardiac problems, suicide, car accidents, danger, and guns, let's just take those off the table for 2011, kay? I will totally keep up my end of the bargain and do the absolute best I can to live the way you want me to live. I may swear a little more than you'd like, is that crossing a line? And if I shop too much, does that count? Cause I stopped shopping this year, but now I think I'd like to start again although just writing about it kind of makes me feel bad so no, I think I won't be shopping again this year.

Damn, that's going to make the new handbag I just ordered from Nordstrom kind of tricky. Well, I'll figure it out (with your help, I'm sure!), but I just want to say I appreciate all you've done for me and my family so far, and if we could just keep this between ourselves and keep that list of aforementioned items out of the picture, that would be awesome? Thanks.

I love you,

Heather
- H

I believe

- H

On ears and buns

This post will be an update of sorts. If you've been following along, you'll know that my car recently tried to kill me by setting the butt warmer on fire while I was sitting on it.

You'll also perhaps remember the one where I talked about my fears that my oldest son is deaf as a post.

Today, there was a small bit of forward movement on both fronts.

My car, she did indeed catch on fire. The service manager at the dealership said "yeah, it's fried." I said "so it burned up?" and he said "Oh, yeah. Torched. It's just an empty circuit now, though, so it's safe."

Hmmm. Safe. Interesting choice of words, as were "fried" and "torched." I feel so much better. New parts shall be installed in a fortnight, however long that is.

On to the bigger issue at hand, my deaf son. He is, indeed, temporarily deaf. If you were to stick both fingers in your ears, he would hear 20% less than that, according to the doctors who saw him today. His latest ear infection left him with pus behind his eardrum. Not "fluid," per se, but thick pus. Most people's bodies re-absorb fluid behind the eardrum, but sadly my son's is not doing that and hence the hearing loss.

I got to sit with him in the special room where they conduct hearing tests, and there was a point during the test when I had to stop myself from weeping. I could hear the lady from the control booth saying things like "say hotdog," and Cooper would say "popcorn." Or she would give him a command and he'd just stare blankly because he couldn't hear her. I could hear her, and I was in a soundproof room.

The good news is it's not permanent! His nerves that control permanent hearing are fine, it's everything in between that's messed up right now. We have to wait until February to see if the issue resolves itself (doc thinks it won't), and then he can have new tubes and his adenoids out at the same time.

The best part about all of it is I get to continue TALKING REALLY SLOW AND REALLY LOUD WITH HIM, and tapping him on the shoulder before even attempting to tell him anything, or gesturing with hand signals if I'm too far away to tap, for at least another six weeks. Yay!

So there. Thank you for your concern regarding both matters, and hopefully sometime in the spring both my son and my car will be fixed for good.

- H

Let's say thanks.

Since I spared you my annual "Feed the World" Christmas post, I thought I would be remiss if I didn't share this nice site with you, my dearest friends and random ISP addresses from Guam.

Maybe you'll have five free minutes today to send a holiday card to a soldier serving overseas. I was at the mall yesterday and a group of uniformed Marines walked by me. They were kids. Nineteen, twenty years old. They get sent thousands of miles away from home to do their jobs, and I'm thankful that they choose to do it as well as they do.

But you know, they're nineteen. They're probably homesick.

Send one of them a card.

Thanks.

P.S. Annual Feed the World holiday post to still to come.

- H