• Twitter Feed
  • Welcome!
  • The Savvy Bandit
  • Archives
  • Categories

    • Winter Wonderland

    2010 - 01.29

    Tags: , , , Category Hooping the Half, Kitties & Puppies & Marriage | No Comments »

    Outside the snow is falling, school children are hollaring, “Whoo-hoo!”  Pretty sure every school in a two-state radius is closing for the (predicted to be epic) snow storm.  Since I love snow–and I did a week’s worth of grocery shopping on Wednesday–I’m totally cool with a blizzard; if all else fails, Savvy can pull a sled to Kroger.

    Speaking of the dog, her initial reaction to the fluffy precipitation was that of any normal German shepherd: she peered suspiciously at the falling flakes, waiting for proof of their (certain) intent to destroy her family.  I packed snow around one of her favorite balls, sure this would make a positive association.  Instead, she yelped with concern for her toy, slapping the proffered ball with her paw and whining, finally snapping at the white crust–and then she was still.  She leaned in again, sniffing, then licking, emphatically chomping at the snow.  Once she figured out that snow is edible, the entire world truly was transformed into a wonderland where tasty treats (akin to the marvelous ice cubes that are stored away in the fridge) simply fall from the sky.  We frolicked, she enjoyed the chilly snacks, and Hubby recorded the moment.

    In other news, Hooping the Half training is going well, though this week’s practice will probably be canceled.  I keep neglecting to send a profile to Sunny to post on our website, because I don’t have anything inspirational to say about breast cancer, except that it sucks, I’m damn lucky and blessed that no one in my family has suffered from it, and I really wish we could figure out how to make it go away. . . but it feels almost irreverent to speak in such a fashion about this horrible disease that affects so many people.  I’ll keep thinking about it.

    Bandit is talking to the snow outside the window.  For anyone who has a cat, she’s making those goat-esque gurgles that end with an “ack-ack.”  She’s probably scolding the (remarkably fat) robins outside for being on the other side of the glass and thus impossibly out of reach.  For my own amusement, I like to think that, if it were possible for her feline throat, her cat-calls would have nothing to do with her desire to hunt and would instead be something like this: Star Wars fans, don’t hate ;)

    Hear Me Roar

    2010 - 01.19

    Category Hooping the Half, Kitties & Puppies & Marriage, My Madness: Writing | 1 Comment »

    I made my list of New Year’s goals, wrote them in a pretty blue notebook, and reassured myself that these  would be attainable.  ”Heck,” I thought, “I’m being a bit modest–I could add several more. . .” but I decided against that,  reasoning that my “resolutions” could be reevaluated and revamped at a later time.

    Then Hubby got sick.  Always committed to going full-throttle, he got really sick.  Epic sick.  In my attempts to babysit him after the thermometer incident, I stayed up until 4 AM, slept (fitfully) until 9:30 AM, then begged our babies (1 dog, 1 cat) to not be overly angry about their late breakfast/walk.  Amidst the fog of sleep deprivation, the whole hooping a half marathon seemed. . . less rational than I’d first thought.  And what about finishing my draft?  In December, heading into the hectic holiday season, I’d promised myself two weeks alone to finish the draft, come hell or high-water, but I could never have anticipated the Epic strep/infection/flu.

    Then I remembered, “Oh yea, I’m a woman. . .”

    I nursed Hubby, through coughing fits and high fevers, I nursed him, and in those witching hours of the night I read as many horribly boring history books as possible.  Why?  To reinforce that I am stubborn disciplined enough to accomplish anything.  I juggled the dog and the cat (not literally, of course–the dog would probably cooperate, but the cat would have none of that), modeling my wardrobe after that of the Michelin Man as I braved freezing temperatures to run laps around the yard with Savvy, and choking down (horrible) herbal teas that would prevent me from catching cold as I snuggled with Bandit.  I attended 3 Zumba classes in 3 days and, trust me, if you’d met Kyya–one of our awesome Zumba instructors–you’d know why that alone deserves a medal.

    And just yesterday I attended my first Hooping-the-Half official Hoop Walk (and after, I forced my reluctant muscles through a Zumba class.  Masochist–who, me?).  I am woman. . .

    . . . and the first draft of my novel is finished.

    Damn You, Bill Nye

    2010 - 01.08

    Tags: , Category Kitties & Puppies & Marriage | 2 comments

    Let me preface this with a(n emphatic) declaration: I love my hubby, and would not want to be without him.

    Some of you can now probably guess, based on the title, where this post is heading.  Hubby fell ill several days ago.  A trip to the doctor revealed that he had, somehow, contracted streptococcus (or strep throat).  The doctor reassured him that he would be just fine in a week’s time and wrote a prescription for trusty ole penicillin.

    Feeling uncharacteristically nurturing, I braved freezing temperatures to gather the proper ingredients for homemade chicken noodle soup, stocked up on Puffs Plus with Vicks, downloaded some movies via the internet, and prepared to mother my poor hubby till bacterium do part.  Yet I blundered, I made one critical oversight:

    I forgot to tie him up.

    Terrified that he would infect me, Hubby insisted I sleep in a separate room.  I eventually conceded, locking myself away from my beloved for a prolonged period of 10 hours, assuming he would use this extended time to sleep and not wishing to wake him early.  Yet upon my return to his side, I discovered he had been up half the night playing video games and watching television, collapsing in exhaustion around 3AM.  I should have gone out and bought the rope then, but how was I to anticipate the madness to come?

    Hubby boiled our thermometer to death.  I have no idea how or when; likely it was in the wee hours of the morn when I slept.  He developed a distinct odor, a menthol-and-salt-mix of Vicks and spilt chicken broth, that our dog finds irresistible (Savvy has been reduced to a sock thief, sneaking off to lick at the remnants of soup and crackers that seep from his pores).  Our cat is addicted to the tufts of Puffs Hubby leaves strewn about the house.  And then there is the internet.

    Anyone who has lived with a microorganism fanatic enthusiast can attest to their obsession interest in all things unseen-by-the-naked-eye (finger-lickin’ good does not exist in such a world–”Do you know how much staphylococcus is on your hands?!”)  Hubby is one such zealot enthusiast, as evidenced by our murdered thermometer (because the best way to kill bacterium is to expose it to critical temperatures, he has often explained).  The internet preys on such men, luring them into novella-length discourse on this or that bacteria, the various theories of how two or more strains interact and play upon the human body; a smorgasbord of topics for the interested researcher.  Even after receiving a diagnoses from a medical professional, Hubby’s finger becomes the proverbial stick, a google search his dead horse.  Today, we visited a different doctor to get a second opinion on Hubby’s strep throat.

    Tonight, I’m locking him in the bedroom and sleeping with the router beneath my pillow.  Hubby needs some rest, and I’m too cheap to buy another thermometer.

    And I have to ask–how do mums with three sick children pull it off?

    Always a Pleasure, Ms. Atwood

    2009 - 12.30

    Tags: , , Category Reading | 2 comments

    I adore Margaret Atwood.  She possesses so many of the qualities I yearn for in an author, including the ability to infuse her stories with an honesty that whispers Truth with gentle intimacy.  Even Hubby, who read his last bit of fiction (Ender’s Game, for the curious) nearly half a decade ago, picked up on her talent after hearing only a paragraph of her work.  He also commented on how her picture, at first glance, reminds him of Meryl Streep.  I’d have to agree.  One of the things I admire most about Ms. Atwood is her dignified elegance, which is a quality I see in Streep, as well.

    But I digress.  What I like most about Atwood is that clever mind of hers.  From the post-apocalyptic (sci-fi, even!) Oryx and Crake, to the historical fiction of my most recent read, Alias Grace, she crafts her works with imagination and artistry.

    Alias Grace is based on a true chain of events surrounding Grace Marks, “one of the most notorious Canadian women of the 1840s,… convicted of murder at the age of sixteen.”  Where possible, Atwood uses historical documents to flesh out her narrative, but the fictional bits are more honest, if not as “factual.”  Atwood has a way of describing the thoughts and logic of women with (surprising?) accuracy while still allowing her female characters to retain a measure of mystery.  While reading, I was so fully immersed in Grace Marks’ world that I could smell it, taste it, and, after a time, I “knew” her mind.  I “knew” what she would do, what the history of her life would lead her to do next, and yet I never reached a conclusion concerning Mark’s guilt (or lack thereof).  I “knew” Grace, but Atwood gifted her character a measure of mystique that made her story all the more irresistible.

    Atwood extends this fairness to her male characters, also, never allowing blame to be so simple as sex or race, power or poverty, but always more individual, more personal.  When reading, I find great pleasure in realizing that, after having formed an opinion of a character during pages 1-100, I’ve come to doubt, or completely change, my opinion of said character a hundred pages later; there were several instances of this satisfying turn in Alias.

    If you’ve never experienced Ms. Atwood’s wordcraft, I would recommend the remedy as an easy (and enjoyable) New Year’s resolution.

    God Save My Knees

    2009 - 12.21

    Tags: , , , Category Hooping the Half | 3 comments

    Because I’ve registered to participate in a half-marathon (for those of you who know me, take a few moments to swallow your giggles and catch your breath before reading on). . .

    . . . and I’m going to do it while hula-hooping.

    « Older Entries