oopsie!

Little worker bee busily, busily packing boxes found a bill that needed paying and so sat right down, kerplunk, at the computer and dashed off an electronic funds transfer. Only, she added a few too many zeros and emptied her family's bank account into Cingular's cavernous coffers. Only realized it when sane, sensible husband sat down at computer two days later and freaked out when he saw we had NO MONEY LEFT!!! He took it really well, actually, and even managed to laugh, which, I think, demonstrates that 1) he loves me and 2) I'm not sure what.

Now, if we hadn't called the cell phone company and ever so politely asked for $3000 back, would we ever have seen that money again?

And do you not shudder to think what will happen when I'm on call in the wee hours and writing orders for, oh I don't know, MORPHINE?

Just thinking about this whole episode makes me want to drink heavily, light up a smoke and give up entirely, because ther is obviously NO HOPE FOR ME!

a strange fetish

It's hot. I'm sitting here at computer, dressed in very cute pink skirt and tank top (I know!)sweating at 10 in the morning. Fili snoozes away on her bed, grateful that the roofers seem to have departed for a coffee break and are no longer scraping and banging overhead. Our landlord has, apparently, decided to fix things up as we're leaving. The gutter over one of our windows, we remarked just the other day, is held up solely by a cable that has been curiously wrapped around it. When we called this to their attention, they got right on it. I can't complain. They've been very decent landlords. Still, the noise and commotion does make it hard to nap properly.

Gabriel has entered a new phase, I think. He asserts himself with a new vigor. Now, when he wants to tote a cereal box around the house, sprinkling cheerios hither and thither like a crazed flower boy, he cries piteously and reaches for the cabinet saying "mo! mo!" And when I say, "no," which I admit I am beginning to relish, he crumples to the ground, oversized melon first and thrashes about for minutes at a stretch. It is bizarre. I don't really know how to deal with it, frankly. I mean, any idiot-parent knows that you can't GIVE IN, for the love of god. That would only MAKE MATTERS WORSE. But, it doesn't seem very constructive, either, for me to go read the paper, which is what I did this morning. Hmm. Eventually, though, he did give up on his cereal box fixation for the moment. We had a hug and a giggle and then he launched right into another obsession: ELMO. Oh. My. God. Though I admit to being a full-on Muppet fanatic back in the day, I did not see the ramifications of indulging his delight at discovering a pair of pants that I got from a friend were subtly embroidered with the visage of said Muppet. I am sorry. I did not know. One day, nothing and then the next, he points and says, "el-MOE." How sweet! How cute! But it quickly became...an obsession. He wants to sit and look at this website with me all day long. All. Day Long. Here's how he asks,"el-MOE? el-MOE! el-Moe! Wah! Wah! Wah!" Over and over until your ears bleed and you are pretty sure you've transformed into one of those "meep-meep" characters, for all the sense you're managing to talk to him.
So, we've done the games, the songs, the make-a-monster (fun, actually), Limbo Elmo, Chicken Dance Elmo. Elmo goes to the Doctor, Elmo goes Potty, Elmo goes to Hell in a Handbasket. No, not that last one. Hee hee, but check this out. It's an interview with Elmo's puppeteer, who is not the small, squeeky voiced individual that I envisioned.
I have a feeling, though, that we've crested this particular baby fetish. And, as obsessions go, it could be worse. And I'm sure the next one will be!

okay, I'm getting to work any minute now

A fine shot of my tonsils as I roar in triumph, having spent an entire day cajoling young master Gabriel to wear his bunny ears for a record shot.

More things I will miss:

1) Liberals. I have become comfortably accustomed to being surrounded by people who think about the world in a remarkably similar way to myself. In moving to a blazing red state, I can no longer take that for granted. And even though I'm sure to grow as a person by confronting my own biases and blah, blah, blah, there's nothing quite so comforting as KNOWING the rest of the world is quite insane, and far, far away.

2) My dog. I write this with great sadness. Fili, our mutt with more than a dash of pit bull, is canis non grata in Denver. Can you believe it? And I am choosing convenience over my dog. The guilt! It's true that we could select a far-flung suburb in which to reside, but I really, really don't want to commute during residency. And so, Fili will be moving in with Grandma and Grandpa to frolic and play on 20 acres of varmint-infested wilderness for at least 3 years. She will love it! I even think G'ma and G'pa will love it. But we will miss her terribly. In exchange, we've agreed to take in the ill-tempered and frail cat, Tabitha, that my parents inherited from my mom's best friend when she had to move into an Alzheimer's facility. It's musical pets! I sure hope Sammy and Tabitha hit it off okay. Hmm... We may all need to be sedated.