Who will I be now?

I lost my best friend 2 weeks ago. Killer. My wonderful cat who was with me for 19 years. 19 years. Killer was with me since I had my first apartment. As an adult, that might be tough to put in to perspective, but I realized the other day that 19 years was equivalent to getting Killer on my first day of kindergarten, and then having him through elementary school, jr. high, high school, college, and even a second bachelor's degree (had I been so inclined). It's enormous, It's nearly half my life. And now I have a hole in my life. Actually, it's not just a hole. It's deeper than that. A huge chunk of my identity was linked to being Killer's mom. Some very old friends and coworkers have recently found me on Facebook, and when they saw my status that Killer had died, they remembered him. I realize that most people who talk about their pets a lot might seem odd, but Killer was simply a huge part of my life, and clearly I talked about him a lot if friends, even COWORKERS, from the early 90's remember him. I make no apologies because he was pure joy and laughter for me. And he was such a character. He had a different name for the first 3 days- jersey, like a cow. But he soon earned his name-- I have the scars to prove it. He was often cantankerous and ornery, but was also my constant and loyal companion. He made me laugh. He comforted me when I was sad or sick. And he loved me through a ridiculous amount of moves and one or two not-so-cat-friendly boyfriends. (Killer was always my priority, so they didn't last long) When he was about 2 years old, he got out one day (this was the ONE AND ONLY time I had roommates- because of this incident) and I found him wobbling down the sidewalk, having been doused in gasoline by some future homicidal maniac. He survived, thanks to the quick thinking of my friend Adam. A few months after Adam saved Killer's life, I ended up saving Adam's life with a Heimlich when he was choking on a piece of steak. Strange how life works. For the last 4.5 years, Killer had diabetes. I had to give him insulin injections every 12 hours. Make sure he ate beforehand. Watch his diet. It was definitely a social life-limiting type of routine, but I did it gladly because it was what he needed. I also had the help of a great pet sitter. When I bought my house in 2004, there was a certain bittersweet moment when I realized that Killer would die in this house. But I was also glad that he wouldn't ever have to endure another move. He had already endured more than 18 moves with me. I was committed to making his last years truly golden. I built him (and our other cats) a 50'x10' outdoor enclosure, with 12' high ceiling, with hard cage material that went in to the ground at least a foot (so no evil critters could dig underneath it), with self-service cat access in and out from the house. He loved being outdoors in the fresh air. And I loved that he was totally safe out there. I had recently put grass down and it truly warmed my heart that he spent many hours out there during his last week home. I was Killer's mom for so long. A huge piece of my identity is gone. Who will I be now? I wonder. I miss his loud meow as he would walk around the house and talk to us. I miss his purr. It was louder than any cat's I knew. I miss his love of frozen yogurt, and letting him lick the lid. I miss his loyal presence as he followed me from room to room. I miss his love of licking the floor of the shower after I came out, He would wait for me patiently as I showered. I could see his black and white form through the curtain. He was simply always there, for 19 years. Most of all I miss his heart, which as you can see by the pic, he wore on his sleeve.

Is it really true no one else will find this cute?

So, they say that people who talk about their pets are really boring. That each of our own pets has a face that truly, only a mother could love. Are you nodding in agreement? Well, OK, so sue me. This video of my cats is cute, darnit! Still nonplussed? How about some context. Einstein said that "everything makes sense if you understand the context." So, the black & white cat, Killer, is 18 and diabetic. Liitleittle, the tiger-faced one is about 9, and they've been best buddies for 8 years. It warms my heart how Killer hangs in there. He was diagnosed 3.5 years ago, and since then, I have had to give him insulin injections every 12 hours. But I don't mind. I would do anything for him. It's just sometimes alarming for first-time guests to my house when they see the syringes on my counter. He and LittleLittle hang out together, protect each other, nap together and take care of each other. What more could you ask out of life but to have a relationship like that, right? Still not willing to watch a silly video about cats? Ok, well, next time you have a stressful day, or need a smile, come back to ths page and click "play". I think it will help.

Why isn't this a silly idea?

I really need these pants. In every color, in every length. If only I could sew. One thing I CAN do really well is NOT keep my butt glued to my chair and write. So this morning, in between my inaugural cup of coffee and the 12 hours of writing I'm supposed to be doing, I came up with this new product idea, named it, wrote the copy for it, and mocked up an ad for it. Oh, and now I'm blogging about it. Sigh. I really need these pants.

How could I spend 10 days on Maui and still be so pale?

Actually, a better question might be, "Why would I travel to Maui with an HP printer, four packages of paper, a stapler, and eight #22 ink cartridges in my luggage?" It's called the Maui Writers Retreat & Conference. For nearly 15 years, I've been dreaming of coming here. This is the nation's premier writing conference, and OMG I'm finally here. You have to apply to get accepted to the retreat, and it took me all these years to get up the guts to do it. It's just wonderful. There are 3 "tracks", Non-fiction, Fiction, and Screenwriting. I'm in the Non-fiction track. I'm surrounded by all these talented writers and I get to hear details about their projects. It's like seeing a best-seller list come to life in front of my eyes. Some day, when they all make it to the bookstore shelves, I can say I knew them when. I have an amazing teacher named Sam Horn. Look her up on amazon.com and you'll see why I feel lucky to be in her class. Many of us have come here both to work on our proposals, and to pitch them to agents and publishers who are here. Normally, you might spend your whole life mailing your book proposal around and never ONCE get the chance to meet face-to-face with these luminaries. But here, we are all given this unprecedented access. We pay handsomely for the priviledge, but we also hope it pays off big. I have my meetings on Friday, and am pitching 2 different book projects. Stay tuned, and I'll let you know how it goes.

How do little kids get abducted in broad daylight in a public place?

I stopped off at a little park in my neighborhood today. When I got there and sat on a bench, I was the only one in the park. I sat there sipping my iced Starbucks and enjoying the birds and scenery, and after a few minutes, a woman's yelling caught my attention. I looked over in the direction of the yelling, but saw no woman. Instead I saw a little boy on his bike...all alone. Then I heard her yell again, "BRIAN!" The little boy was ignoring her and just pedalling slowly around the park. The woman kept screaming his name, "BRIAN!" I expected to see, any second now, the woman appear and be frantically running after him.
Nope.
Instead she just kept screaming his name. Now Brian had peddled over to the side street, which was heavily shaded. Just then a pickup truck pulled to the curb and crept closer to Brian before it stopped. "Uh oh", I thought. I was certain that Brian would promptly peddle in the opposite direction because even at a distance, the truck had a creepy feel to it, and it was obvious there was a lone man in the cab. But to my amazement, Brian PEDALLED UP TO THE TRUCK! See pic above. You can see Brian's little helmeted form in the yellow oval, and the truck in the violet oval. The woman kept yelling for Brian, and because she was so loud, the driver of that pickup would surely now know the little boy's name... as surely as I heard it from the other end of the park. I decided that if the man got out of the truck, I would intervene. "Maybe he knows the driver?" I thought. Nope.
The little boy now pedalled away, slowly, toward the main street (see pic above). Finally, I saw the woman make an appearance, but she stayed WAY over on the other side of the park (see pic above. She's in the green oval, barely noticable) I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. First I was worried about the potential pedophile, now I was worried he'd get run over.
"BRIAN!" she kept screaming. But not moving. Just screaming. Finally Brian started back toward the screamer. As he passed me, he noticed my camera phone, and hid his face behind his hand. I thought that was odd... I mean, he's worried about having his picture taken (granted, I was a stranger on a park bench), but he freely pedalled up to a strange pickup truck on a side street. Sigh. I'm glad Brian didn't get pulled in to that truck, but now I understand how that could happen to a child.

Why did I buy one?

I tried not to. Really. The morning of June 29, I dropped my Treo 650 into the toilet. Despite what you may have heard, this really was an accident. Not to mention the fact that it's also a clear sign that I am way too attached to my phone. Or that back pockets are not where I should place my valuables. And don't worry, I didn't compose this post on the toilet. But I have emailed my boss from there several times over the years. It's a quiet kind of revolt, I guess. Or maybe it's just revolting. But anyways, back to the splashdown. When I heard the noise, I thought I was either suffering from some form of tropical dissentary, or that really was my $600 unlocked GSM BFF hitting the water. If you know me, you'll know I preferred it be the former. Sad, But true. With my cat-like reflexes, I rescued it from the water immediately, but it was too late. I took it apart and laid it out on paper towels on the sink. No matter how much I shook the main body, there was still water sloshing around in the screen. Ick. So I went to the T-Mobile store down the street to get a loaner to tide me over while I decided what to do. Now, on this particular day, when the entire world was focusing on the release of iPhone, you would think the salespeople at the T-Mobile store would have been especially nice to me. I was the ONLY customer in the store when I walked in, and it took the 2 people behind the counter 11 minutes to acknowledge my presence. One of them was on the phone with some other employee, probably a manager, explaining that the woman who had just walked headlong into their glass window wasn't "that badly hurt, just bleeding a lot."
The other employee in the store was deeply enthralled with some laminated pages in what looked like a training notebook. Sigh. he finally came over to me and I explained my situation. "Sorry, we don't have any more loaners", he said without even checking, and went back to texting someone on his cellphone. I said, "Ummm, can you call another store and see if..."
He held up his index finger and took a personal call on his cellphone.
I waited.
And waited.
The other girl was still on the phone, assuring whoever was on the other end that they would "not be at fault".
Finally my helper called another store. He came back over to me and said, "Nope. they don't have one either."
"What should I do?" I asked.
"Uhhh, I don't know", he said as he answered yet another personal call on his cellphone.
AAARGH. I walked out, careful to avoid smashing in to the glass wall, because clearly I'd get no sympathy if I did, and walked across the street to the AT&T store.
I was greeted promptly, with a smile, by a clean-cut looking girl. I explained what had just happened and said I wanted to switch to AT&T. My salesperson sprung into action. I said I just wanted a new Treo (which T-Mobile didn't sell anyways). He showed me the options. I considered them. He said, "We've also got the iPhone". I thought that was charming considering I'd have to be living under a rock not to know that. I pointed to the ever-growing line outside the door and said I simply couldn't stand in line for the next 6 hours. I bought my new Treo, and he had my number ported over, AND sold me a cheaper plan within 15 minutes. Amazing. When will companies learn just how far a little customer service actually goes? T-Mobile totally blew it that day. And I had ZERO complaints about my phone service. Loved it, in fact.
OK, fast-forward 2 weeks. After wrestling with my new Treo's bluetooth car integration, I finally scoured internet forums and discovered that I had, in fact, bought the single-worst phone I could have for bluetooth integration with my car. I couldn't even make calls from my car the old-fashioned way (you know, holding it up to my ear) because the integration was so faulty, the phone itself would lock up while I was in the car. And yes, the forums made it clear that the iPhone was one of 2 phones that WOULD work perfectly with my car's bluetooth. The other one was a Crackberry 8000-something. Sorry. Can't go there.
So yes, I bought one. And OMG, I love it. I do feel like a jackass carrying it around, but a lot less of a jackass than I would have felt like, had I stayed with the abusive folks at T-Mobile.

Would you know what to do?

I was out to dinner the other night with one of my girlfriends. The restaurant was filled to capacity, buzzing. The man seated right behind me suddenly fell out of his chair and went down HARD on his head. And i don't mean the chair fell over... it was still standing. He literally went out cold and down. It was one of those high chairs like a barstool but with a back. So it was a long way down. Immediately, his friends with whom he had been dining started crawling all over him, trying to get him to sit up. As rude as it was, I barked at everyone to stop trying to move him, and I yelled 'Is anyone calling 911?" I could see that someone was. But one thing became very clear to me immediately. NO ONE in this whole restaurant knew CPR, or what to do, because aside from his hysterical (and buzzed) friends, everyone just sat there. I crouched on my knees behind his head and gently held it in place. I could see his chest rise and fall so I knew that he was in fact breathing. But I knew he had hit his head hard. And the floor was cement, so I expected to see some bleeding starting to seep out from under his head. I explained to his friends that you simply don't want to move someone around who may have broken their neck, or worse. You could end up making their injury far worse. If someone has a head and/or neck injury, and you have to to perform CPR, when you do the "Airway and Breathing" part of CPR, do not tilt the head back or move the head or neck. Instead, pull the lower jaw (chin) forward to open the airway. Plus, a head injury victim can sometimes seem fine at first, but then the brain starts to swell, and you have a life or death situation on your hands. I stayed at his head and he started to regain consciousness and get really agitated. He tried to sit up and said he was fine. I calmly put my hands on his shoulders, brought him back to a lying position, and nicely said, "I know you are probably fine, but you hit your head really hard, so just do me a favor and lay here for a bit. Then the paramedics arrived (see pic above) and I backed away and let them do their thing. Net net, they thought they had him stabilized, and they sat him up and he blacked out again. It turns out he had just been diagnosed that DAY with type II diabetes. So what he had was a diabetic blackout, which is very serious. I looked over at his table and saw that he had downed a pint of beer. which is not such a great idea for someone with Type II diabetes.
Anyways, I bring all this up because there isn't always a doctor in the house... and all of us should learn some basic first aid principals if we can. I once saved a guy's life by performing a Heimlich when he had choked on a piece of steak. I was never taught how to do this, I just knew the principal and there was no one else to help him. My dad (an MD) once told me that if someone can say 'I'm choking', then they're not actually choking. But if they cannot talk, they ARE CHOKING. If you ever find yourself really choking, and there is no one jumping to your aid, you can throw yourself over the back of a chair... aiming so that the edge of the chair hits you in your gut, just under your ribs. You may save your own life this way. Here's a good site with some quick tips. http://www.healthy.net/scr/MainLinks.asp?Id=170