When you're intubating a dog you have to use the tube to gently move the epiglottis ("the flap") so you can get the tube into the right place. It's creepy. Like something out of an alien movie. ("Intubating" refers to placing the tracheal tube down their throat to prevent them from inhaling fluids and to get the gas anesthesia into the animal.) ( Photos, for those with strong constitutions. )

Ever since I learned how to do this, I can't stop thinking about my own larynx. And that little flap. That keeps closing and opening as it wishes. Completely out of my control. And how it must look as it closes to allow food down. It's unnerving.

And it's been weeks.

Nothing else much to report today. Except that I had too much cake. I felt ill after the first piece, but then I went back for a second. I'm like one of those monkeys in a laboratory that keeps pushing the button that gives it an electric shock. Never learning.

"The difference between school and life? In school, you're taught a lesson and then given a test. In life, you're given a test that teaches you a lesson.”

-Tom Bodett

After shooting that wedding this weekend, I will never again a) consider going into wedding photography as a full-time career, or b) think that wedding photographers are overpaid. Holy mother, I was exhausted. And the longest part - the editing - hasn't even begun yet!

Here are a couple of Becky and David's first dance. Be gentle, I'm a novice. With sub-par equipment.

 

 

The other day I was shopping at Forever 21 and I went looking for the fitting rooms. There was a man standing in line in front of them, holding two neon sports bras.

I hesitated. "I'm sorry ... are you in line?"

Oh, the look on his face. I laughed, gave him an apologetic "Hey, you never know," and walked into a changing room.

That's a situation you just can't win. You can ask and offend a homophobe. Or you can remain silent, cut in line, and offend a man who just wants to wear women's underwear.

One of my coworkers is pregnant. She's due this Wednesday so for the past nine months there has been a lot of pregnancy talk. She went on leave last week.

Today one of the technicians asked me if the receptionist was getting closer to having her baby yet.

"I don't know. I don't do baby talk. I can't even begin to approach something like that."
She laughed. "You could ask her if her belly dropped yet. Or if her cervix has softened."
"Barb, gross. I can't believe that's a real phrase."

If I ever found myself pregnant I would make my doctor use secret code phrases in place of all of the creepy lingo. With words like "sparkles." And "rainbows." "Glitter." "Kittens" and "cupcakes" and "happily prancing ponies."

I wish I could go back to being twelve years old. No one was getting married or having babies. My most pressing concern was whether I could mend my melted toy soldier or torn stuffed animal.

No, really. I used to take toys to the backyard, purposely break them, melt them, crush them. And I would pretend that they were in an animal hospital. I'd use sticks and string to make splints. I'd pretend glue was extensive reconstructive surgery.

I don't know whether that's a precursor for a life as a serial killer or as a veterinarian. But here I am in the veterinary field, so I think I'm ok.

PEACE.

it does not mean to be in a place
where there is no noise, trouble
or hard work. it means to be in
the midst of those things and still
be calm in your heart.

~unknown

Live one day at a time and make it a masterpiece.
-Dalai Lama

( A to Zen )


xposted to yayheaven & daily_gems

I went for a five minute run today, three months post-surgery. I've never been so happy.

booo

I ran into this photo while sorting old pictures on my computer. I can't believe it was taken nearly three years ago, at my apartment at Whitney Ridge.

Sometimes you have to lose your mind before you come to your senses.

~ Socrates

“Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth.”
― Katherine Mansfield

The more you depend on forces outside of yourself,
the more you are dominated by them.

-Harold Sherman

It's fifty degrees. The sun doesn't set until 7:30. I can't run yet, but I get home and shower early to draw the nostalgia of soapy strained muscles and salty tired lungs. I sit still on the front step and enjoy the pretend post-run high. I can breathe. In the winter there's too much lung and not enough air, but now there's so much air I have to breathe twice as fast to get it all in. Oxygen streams into the winter-forgotten bottom lobes of my lungs and absorbs the silly things that bother me so much when there's snow outside my door. The first-world problems of a middle class white girl. I exhale them away.

I am motivated. I am creative. I am clever. I have new friends. I have intellectual pursuits. I have sunshine.

I am unstoppable.

I just made vegan cupcakes from scratch. I rule so hard.

I've gotten into this weird habit of baking when I'm bored. This is shocking, considering that six months ago I could barely boil pasta.

Midterms were ok. Dr. Douchebag's test was nonsensical, as expected. But they're over and now I'm on spring break. Not that spring break will be relaxing. I still have work. And a few straggling projects for school that are coming due. And I'm trying to get this animal charity project off the ground. Also, I'm shooting a wedding for a coworker this weekend. Busy busy busy. Always.

Today a Goldendoodle was admitted for a neuter. His owner was an old man who smiled a lot. Begged us to take good care of his dog. Promised he'd call later to check up on him.

Forty-five minutes later the dog vomited up a pair of pink lacy underwear. Whole.

This happens a lot. You wouldn't believe the number of blockages we've seen from dogs eating underwear. A couple of years ago we had two in one day - a Labrador who had eaten a blue thong and a Yorkie who had consumed a tiny pair of Barbie doll underwear.

Now, the question is, whose underwear is it? The old man's? His wife's? Sometimes we wonder if we'll return the regurgitated delicate and the woman won't recognize it. Can you imagine finding out that your boyfriend is cheating because the dog threw up lingerie that isn't yours?

We washed the garment, bagged it, and put it aside. Later one of the technicians said, "I'll just put these underwear in the fridge for safekeeping" I swear that someday I am going to make a quote book about all of things we say that couldn't be heard at any other job. You know, things such as, "My, that's a large scrotum."

I'm excited to shoot the wedding this weekend. An entire event to photograph, all to myself. I'm also nervous. The last wedding I shot was when I was so much more inexperienced. I did what I could, but my work was novice at best. I know that wedding photos mean a lot to a bride and I want to make sure she loves them. I've improved so much since that last set, and I'm reasonably confident about the candids. It's the posed stuff I'm nervous about. I dislike shooting posed portraits.

Michael and I were talking about the wedding this weekend. He's going to be my date/little helper man who follows me with the laptop, backing my memory cards up.

"Ok, I'll help you with the backup, but you owe me a slow dance, you know."
"No I don't."
"Yes, you do," he persisted. "At the last wedding we were the only couple not dancing the slow songs."
"I don't slow dance."
"You made us sit there with the single people!"
"That's fine," I said. "And we weren't the only couple not dancing."
"Yes we were. The last time you slow danced with me was at our own wedding."
"I had to. I needed someone to hold up my dress."
"You slow danced willingly at my brother's wedding."
"I was drunk. I also made up a dance called "the Bridesmaid Shuffle" and danced it with Virginia. I'm not dancing with you."
"Why do you have to be such a man?"