It's SNOWING!

I love snow. I always have. It's such fun.

As I was growing up, I never knew how to ski, so we had to make do with sledding and just generally getting ourselves all wet and cold by rolling in the snow, instead of sliding on top of it.

By the time I was out of high school, I'd gone skiing a grand total of twice...once with my cousins, and once for "Lifetime Sports" PE class.

Then I met Jerry. I think he was on skis before he could walk, and as a result is quite an accomplished skier. I had to learn to ski in a *huge* hurry. And you know what? I LOVE it! I might even like going skiing more than Jerry does. Of course, that might be because he can't go on all the "fun" stuff like he does when I'm not with him.

Skiing around here is always a bit hit-and-miss. We have several ski areas around, Magic Mountain, Pomerelle, Soldier Mountain, and the world-renowned Sun Valley. I HOPE to get some skiing in after Nolan arrives. We have no shortage of babysitters...both grandmothers I think would be more than happy to have the child for a day. Though they'd have to come sit in the ski lodge. I don't think I'll be prepared to leave him for a whole day with someone else where I can't come look at him by that point. I joke that we're going to open up bidding for babysitting privileges.

Magic is a cute little hill that has some decent terrain and steepness, but only has about 4 runs to ski on. It usually has snow, which can be an issue in this area...snow's not always guaranteed. Magic Mountain also happens to be one of the only places in the world that has ever broken a titanium ski binding right off the ski. Jerry managed that one jumping off a rock face.

Pomerelle is one mountain that is pretty much guaranteed to get snow. They always have the most snow of any resort near here, but it takes *forever* to get to the mountain, and the terrain is not all that great. Pretty flat. Great beginner's mountain, but anyone that picks up skiing with any speed at all is going to grow out of it after about 3 days.

Soldier Mountain is to the North, the other two are to the south of us. Farfield, Idaho. Much better terrain, more runs, but actually getting snow is another story. It's one of those mountains that when they have snow, the skiing's GREAT, but they don't have snow quite often. We never buy a season pass because you never know if they'll be open all winter, or only for a month.

Then there's Sun Valley. Great skiing, when they have natural snow. It's the manufactured stuff that makes Sun Valley not-so-great. I suppose it's better than no skiing at all, but the manufactured stuff, coupled with the number of skiers that are on the mountain equals Huge Patches of Ice. Ice is hard to ski on. Most of the mountain, I don't get a lot of enjoyment out of...I'm simply not a good enough skier.

However, Sun Valley has Seattle Ridge. What a great place, though it's one of the last to open, and one of the first to close each year. It's one side of a bowl with all beginner and moderate runs that has a high-speed quad from the bottom of the bowl to the top of the ridge. At the top of the ridge, they have put in a wonderful lodge. This lodge and the layout of the Seattle Ridge area make skiing so GREAT for me. There's enough tree/powder terrain for Jerry to have some fun, but the runs are easy enough for me to enjoy. And, when you get cold, you go in the lodge, which is a typical Sun Valley lodge complete with couches and stone floors and luxury bathrooms and gourmet chefs.

It's a cafeteria-style gourmet, but it's still great! You tell them what you want, and they serve it up for you. Our traditional Seattle Ridge lunch is Chicken Basil Chili, which you can get served in a bowl, or over a baked potato. All the chefs have foreign accents. Very cool. One thing: You have to pick what condiments you want on your chili, and they always ask you, but you don't always understand them for the accents.

And that's CJ's Southern Idaho Ski Review.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Yup, it's my Birthday!

In all, it was a very enjoyable birthday. Usually, I ask that we go skiing for this day, but this year, well, it's just not in the cards.

I woke up, and managed to keep my hands off my present until Jerry woke up. Ok, he had a little help. I waited a couple of hours, then told him that he'd better become concious, because he'd better remember me opening his gift. Honestly, out of all the things I thought I'd be getting, he managed to surprise me once again. A brand new Alpine 9827 stereo system for my Grand Cherokee. My Grand Cherokee is a 2000 model, and is possibly the only one made with a *tape deck* instead of a CD player. Strange, but true. It's loaded with just about every option except the Laredo exterior trim, leather seats, and that darn CD player. It was originaly ordered by an elderly couple, and they made some strange requests when putting that thing together. They didn't want leather, but they ordered the $3000 super duper trac-loc traction control system. Strange. But good, since we would have asked for those options, too! We just would have added that silly CD player.

Anyway, I made him install it then take me to town, where we met his mother, sister, and her husband at Johnny Carino's for lunch. I should have had a clue that things were going to be a bit off at lunch when Jerry's mom was surprised to see us. Apparently Jerry and I have Dopplegangers that went into the restaraunt just before we got there, and we almost lost our table! Then, the waitress managed to dump an entire glass of water on his mom's nice leather purse. 10 minutes later, we finally got our bread, but no oil to dip. So I tried to swirl the herbed oil up, and splattered it across my entire chest. Great. It took about 30 minutes for us to get our food, which by that time was so overdone it was barely edible. I ordered Chicken Parmegana with Fettuccini Alfredo instead of Spaghetti. Apparently they forgot, then remembered, because there were a few strands of spaghetti and marinara sauce at the bottom of my pile of Alfredo. And it tasted like the salmon my sister-in-law ordered. BLECH.

Of course, after that we had to go to the mall so I could get a new shirt. I ended up with the cutest jogging outfit from Motherhood Maternity. I actually look not-quite-so-pregnant in it! I tore the tags off and left the store wearing my new outfit.

We went to see Alexander...ok movie. Some parts were great, others were stupid and hard to follow. If you're considering it...wait until you can rent it.

Then we went to Target and registered for my baby shower. Mostly "necessities" like milk storage bottles, crib sheets, etc. I had a blast running around the store zapping what I wanted into the system.

Last order of business was to head to my grandmother's for Chocolate Dandy and socialization with my mom's family. Quite a day!

Merry Christmas!

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, etc, etc.

I'm happy to say that Jerry *loved* the gifts I got him, which were super-duper NATO approved valve stem caps for his Land Cruiser, and super-duper adjustable pressure tire-air-downers that you can screw onto your valve stems and then just drive off. They automatically air down your tires to a preset PSI for 4-wheeling. I was *very* pleased with myself since the first thing out of his mouth when he opened his valve stem caps was "How did you know I wanted these?" I have to confess, I didn't...it's just that when I was ordering the pressure valves, I saw those caps and just had to get them. Apparently he had his eye on them, too.

From Jerry, I recieved the final installment of my Lord of the Rings DVD collection; he gave me the extended director's cut of the Return of the King.

Our other major gifts included a Sony digital camcorder and a baby jogger. Jerry also got his traditional holiday gift of cheese dip for nachos from my mother.

3 dinners later, we nearly popped from too much food, went home, and crashed.

Food Comes From the Stereo

I've described earlier my dog's diet. I'll not go into that again, but their behavior, that's another story.

Everyone knows of Pavlov. You know, the guy who rang bells to make dogs drool? It's called Operant Conditioning, and it's an unbelievably effective method of training. Link a behavior with food, or some other high-value object or activity, and you can get any animal (including humans) to do just about anything that is physically possible. There's a great book out on the subject. It's by Karen Pryor; the title is "Don't Shoot the Dog." - it's not really a dog-training book, per se, it's a whatever you want to train, including yourself book.

We usually feed our dogs at night. The regular schedule has us watching television for a while to "unwind", and then we hit the hot tub. The way my husband has the television and stereo system set up, you have to turn off 3 different devices to get the whole thing shut off. The satellite reciever, the TV itself (which makes the traditional soft "pop" sound when it's turned off) and the stereo system reciever. That particular device makes a distinct "click" when the power is killed. This sound has come to mean "dinnertime" to the dogs.

Oh, the power of a remote control. When the sound from the TV goes off, the dogs perk their ears. However, we change channels often enough that this is not necesarily a cause for real excitement. If that is followed by the TV "Pop" and the reciever "click", we have instant mayhem in the living room. The dogs jump up, look around, dance in a circle, and make a beeline for the back door, where we take them to eat their dinner. Every time. It doesn't matter if we have food in our hands or not, they've been completely conditioned to respond to "reciever click means food."

People are much the same way. We get so used to doing things one way, or in a certain order, that it's often nearly impossible to change. Take, for instance, nail biting. Often described as a "vice" or "bad habit", I'm of the opinion it's an addiction. It has all the classic symptoms of addiction. I know, I'm a nail biter. To look at my hands, you wouldn't know it. My fingernails are beautiful. Long, manicured, and nice looking - and not artificial, either. The last time I chewed off a fingernail simply to chew off a fingernail was when I was 15. And 13 years later, I still identify myself as a nail-biter. Like an AA meeting...everyone there is an Alcoholic, no matter how long ago their last drink was.

Nail biting, smoking, drinking, I equate them as equal addictions. While smoking has the obvious added stimulus of nicotine, I doubt it's much more powerful an addiction than the pleasure a nail biter gets from chewing that fingernail down. Nail biting feels *good*, it satisfies an itch you can't scratch. Fingernails taste GREAT, and the chewing motion is extremely comforting. I have no doubt there's a release of endorphins associated with the action. Every day, I have to re-break my habit. *13 years* and I still have as powerful an urge to chew on my fingernails as I did the day I decided to quit doing it. If I get a hangnail, or a small blemish in the edge of a nail, I have to get to a clipper or nail file (nail file is much better - makes a smoother repair) and remove it *immediately* or it gets chewed off. Nail polish and all.

Like the dog-hears-stereo syndrome in my house, I was conditioned at an early age to really enjoy my nail biting. It's an unbelievably powerful stimulus.

High protein it's not.

I lowcarb. Atkins, specifically.

er...perhaps I should admit that with pregnancy cravings, Lowcarb has not been high on my priority list, though I do try to choose lower-carb options when available.

No, Low Carbohydrate diets are not bad for pregnant women or their babies. In fact, if you think about what materials the body is made up of (exclusively proteins and fats, NO sugars) you realize that it's actually an ideal diet for pregnancy. Plenty of baby-building materials in a Low-carb diet.

I used to be of the opinion that everyone (including doctors) has been indoctrinated in - that we all need copious amounts of carbohydrates, or you will die some horrible, nasty, lingering death. Not so. Honestly, what prompted my switch was when Hill's company came out with their Prescription Diet m/d for cats. Lowcarb. I figured, well, if they're doing it for cats, why not try it myself?

So I went out and got a copy of "Dr. Atkins New Diet Revolution" - this is where you should start. Some of his other books, like "Atkins for Life" are more for experienced LC'ers and are not really great for learning the science and technique behind why Atkins works. There are other "lowcarb" diets out there, but Atkins is the one "pure" science that started it all.

At this point, let me break in here. I, obviously, decided to LC because I wanted to lose weight. I'm 5'8, and at the time of my "I have to lose this weight" crisis, was 165 pounds. That doesn't sound very heavy, but I really do have a very small bone structure, and given the fact that during my college track career, I was 122 pounds in full dress, that 40 pound difference was *huge* to me. So I decided to do Atkins, and set myself a goal of 140 pounds. I figured for my height, that was perfectly acceptable.

On Atkins, you start out at what is termed "Induction" - this is where Atkins really gets it's bad reputation. People hear the super-restrictive regimen and assume that this is the way the good Dr. wants you to eat for the rest of your life. Not so. Induction is essentially a "cold turkey" approach to breaking your physical and psychological addictions to sugar. And as anyone who's done Induction correctly can tell you, you *do* go through withdrawal from the sugars. The first week is absolutely miserable. You have a headache. You feel sick. You wonder what the heck you're doing this to yourself for. Classic withdrawal symptoms. Then it goes away, and you feel great. Your time to "detox" is different in every person.

Induction foods are restricted to salad vegetables, broccoli, cauliflower, cheese, meat, and butter/mayo. You can find a complete list of acceptable induction foods at the Atkins website. Suggested veggie intake is 3 cups a day, which is more than most people eat anyway. So much for a meat-only diet. Realistically, I at a lot of deli meats (dipped in mustard and mayo), a lot of chicken salad, tuna salad, or taco salad (no tortilla!) and cheeses. Broccoli or cauliflower with cheese sauce (made with cream cheese, heavy cream, butter and cheese) It is very easy to do, really. Even eating out is a breeze, since most restaraunts are going to have a chicken cesar salad option (hold the croutons!)

After induction, you gradually begin adding back different types of food. There are several different stages, and by the time you reach "maintenence", you're basically eating normally, minus refined flour and sugar. Berries, melon, and to some extent fresh fruit are all perfectly acceptable, once you find at what level you need to keep your carbohydrate intake so you don't gain more weight.

Anyway, that's my Atkins lecture. Basically, it boils down to the fact that carbohydrates are an unnecessary nutrient. Their only purpose is to provide energy, and if you have a lot of sugar in your system (by "sugar" I mean any carbohydrate, including bread) your body burns that and won't burn the fat you have stored. Carbohydrates contribute absolutely nothing to the building of body materials and last only a short time as an energy source. In the absence of carbohydrate, your body burns fat, and can also turn dietary protein into fuel for the body. Simple, and very scientific. The best thing is that the vicious cycle of eating/glucose spike/glucose drop is leveled off, and you do not feel hungry as often. As a result, you eat fewer calories, thus losing weight.

Amazing. It took about 3 months to get to my goal weight, and since I was feeling good and not having trouble sticking to the diet, I thought I'd simply continue and see where my body wanted to be. Finally, my weight loss stalled out right at 127 pounds. That's officially going from a size 13 to a size, oh, about 7, though I could fit in size 5's not infrequently. Not bad, I think, since I'm not in the kind of shape I was for college track. Now, since little Nolan has messed with my system, I'm back up to that dreaded 165 pounds, but I'm not really worried. I figure 20 of that will go away immediately, and if I did it once, I can do it again to lose back down to where I feel comfortable.

Creepy Crawly Critters

That would be germs. Those nastly little boogers.

It never fails to amaze me that people actually go out in public when they are sick. Really. For heaven's sake, people, you're SICK. Stay at home and get better! Hide in your bedroom. Read a book. Do NOT, whatever you do, make the rest of us sick. It's enough to make me want to wear a surgical mask out in public.

Not only is it rude, it's disgusting. I am no real germ-o-phobe, but there comes a point when you're standing in line at a checkout, and in front of you is someone who has what sounds like terminal pneumonia, bringing up copious amounts of phlegm, which are not "gotten rid of", but swallowed. Behind you is the sinus sufferer who must loudly snort gobs of mucus down his throat. As a fellow sinus sufferer, I do sympathize, but really, could you WAIT until you're in your own vehicle, or at least until no one is within hearing distance of you? Even nose-blowing. Really, people, it's obvious when you have too much snot to be contained in a single kleenex. I do NOT appreciate you doing this, then touching surfaces that I must touch immediately after you. Gag me with a spoon.

Is it too much to ask that people discreetly wipe their nose, then head to the lavatory to clear the passages, so to speak? At least then, you can actually wash your hands after blowing your infectious waste all over them. That sort of thing is put in a bright orange bag with a large "Biohazard" symbol on it if you were in a doctor's office.

What a great idea. We could have trash cans specifically for this purpose. Maybe it would make people think twice before gleefully spreading their sickness to the rest of society. Big, bright, orange trash cans with well-sealed lids. Maybe with rotating tops, much like the rotating doors that don't let air pass in and out of a building.

Perhaps my imagination is too vivid, but for the past 4 weeks, Tuesday nights have been Childbirth class night. Which in itself is not a huge deal, a bit of a waste of time, but I've gotten enough information that I don't think it was a total waste of $50. The first night, the instructor did basic pregnancy stuff, most of which the women in the class had already experienced, since we're all around 7 or 8 months pregnant. One of the things we "learned" was that we were not supposed to be around sick people if we could help it. Immediately after announcing this, the instructor has a 10 second coughing fit.

Also, I think everyone in the class but husband and I were already sick with some sort of cold, sinus, or bronchial infection. And they all clustered around us. EEWWWW. So the next week, we moved position slightly, hoping that the coughing hordes would not sit directly behind us. No such luck. They followed us. As they did the following week!

So yesterday, we grabbed 2 chairs against the back wall. Would you know that the person most sick, who uses the same ratty little kleenex for every single nose blow (in which there is at least a tablespoon of mucus each time) sat *right* in front of us? It's like a booger...you just can't flick it! ARGH! Again, my imagination ran amok, as every time she would cough or blow the nose, she would use a flat hand, and I could just see streams of infectious germs flying from her mouth, bouncing off that hand, and reflecting behind her directly onto me.

While I'm on the subject, may I just mention people who go to work sick? Now, I realize that many people are paid by the hour. Taking a sick day will cut into their pay, but if they go to work sick, they're going to cut into *everyone's* pay. If you're lucky enough to work for a company that allows sick days, why, for the love of Pete, do you not USE them? This has been an ongoing point of contention at the college where my husband is a computer technician. His entire department has some moral objection to staying home when they are sick. Which means that the week after, there's no one healthy in the department, because everyone has come down with the bug. They're SICK DAYS. They are meant for you to use to not make others sick.

I was very appreciative the other day. Standing in the line at our local Win-Co grocery store, I was amazed to see a checker going down the line of registers spraying lysol on the belts and
machinery you use to check out. I just wanted to hug her. She is my hero. Her and my bottle of Purell.

Childbirth Classes

Yes, I know that this is two posts today, but I had thoughts.

Oh, the joy of childbirth classes.

You get to go to a classroom full of other pregnant women with their "coaches" and sit for several hours, listening to a lecture, and then....and THEN, you get to watch insanely painful looking videos. I have to admit, though, the "empathy belly" is quite entertaining. I told Jerry that he didnt' have to wear it. *I* wouldn't want to wear it. Did I mention that it's a prerequisite for taking these classes that you be sick with bronchitis, a cold, the flu, or some other nasty little bug, so you can cough all over everyone else?

Ok, for me the videos aren't so bad. I'm a CVT, I am used to things like spurting blood and puppies that have to be revived. No problem. Husband has a problem with the videos, and my "deal" for him to come to the classes with me was that he didn't actually have to *watch* the videos. The childbirth class people got smart. Instead of showing the videos all on one day like they *used* to, they do one a week. Apparently "video day" was a popular day to be sick from class. He also doesn't actually have to "watch" my labor. In fact, I'd prefer he just sit beside the bed, up by my head, and be quiet. However, he must be in the room. That is not negotiable. Whether or not he's concious is of no importance.

On with the story.

The first class was not so bad, basic information, what to bring to the hospital with you, instructions on where to go once you do go into labor (don't go to the emergency room - they don't like to deliver babies when there's a perfectly acceptable Labor and Delivery floor just up the elevator.) And a "normal birth" video. Other than the fact that the person narrating the video had an accent so heavy I wasn't sure if they were speaking English or Spanish, it was a pretty run-of-the-mill video. Much like you'd see on Discovery channel's "Baby Story"

Ok, so I got the giggles. Hormones, remember? They don't always just make you cry. But I was good. I didn't actually giggle out loud. Much to my surprise, when my giggling fit was over, I glanced around, and there wasn't a dry eye in the house, other than my husband and me. Even the MEN were weeping. I was absolutely astonished. Am I that much different than anyone else on the planet? Everyone was talking about how "beautiful" it was. I'm sorry, but there are some things that I don't particularly wish to see. *I* don't get to see that on me, and I'm grateful. Put up a drape, grab the kid, and let me have him when he's *dry*.

Yes, I do this often on kittens and puppies...the drying and resucitating, etc, and it doesn't bother me in the slightest. However, i've always been a little squeamish when it comes to human "germs." For instance, people who use their fork to shovel food into the gooey, wet, drooly mouth of their babies. Let me just say right now: Not going to happen. Ever. I refrained from eating the birthday cake at my dad's recent birthday party, because one of the candle blower-outers was my 2 year old nephew, Aaron. I believe there was more spit than frosting on the cake by the time all candles were out. There were 6 candles. My grandmother told me that I'd get over that very quickly, and that all that saliva "Just makes it sweeter." At which point, I nearly had to make a break for the toilet. I've always been this way, and I seriously don't see the person who won't even share a glass with someone ever voluntarily consuming her son's spittle.

Right...we're talking about Childbirth classes. The second video was information about the hospital. Easy. The third, however, was the cesarean section video. Again, been there, done that on dogs, and even a couple of cats. It's basically the same. What *wasn't* the same was the effect of seeing a nurse lay her whole upper torso on the "victim's" chest, and push that baby out the incision. It shot out of the woman much like squirting a fish out of your hands. I swear, the baby hit the end of the umbilical cord and bounced back before the doctor got it under control. Giggles weren't even close. I guffawed until husband finally whacked me on the leg and told me to go to the bathroom if I couldn't behave myself. Once again, not a dry eye in the house, but this time, it included me, laughing until tears streamed down my face.

On to breathing excercises! These, for anyone who has not had the pleasure, consist of a lot of "hee hee's " and "Hee Hoo's" Which you practice for an hour, until they get to the other breathing excercises, which are something that anyone with any athletic background (or yoga, or meditation) is taught as a matter of course. Oh, yes, and you practice counting to ten. I swear, if my husband tries to count with his hands in my face like they suggest in class, he will be kicked. He's been warned.

Two more classes left. Mostly dealing with safety, medical things, and infant CPR. Which is what I most wanted to learn. No more Hee Hee Hoo's and no more funny videos.

My recommendation to other first-time mothers? Buy a book. Watch Baby story. Ask your doctor where (s)he wants you to go/who she wants you to call when you go into labor.

Through the mind

I am not a worrier. Really. I'm not. Generally, things can come and go and I really don't get too excited about it. I think I get it from my Dad. He's had 2 heart attacks, and while I believe he must have been afraid or nervous, to any outsider, it would appear that he loved every minute of them. "Can I be awake for that?" My dad's other name could be John Wayne. And so, I like to think I'm a little like him. I hope *other* people think I'm a little like him.

However...

However. Yes.

Hormones do strange things to a person's mind. For as long as I can remember, I have not wanted children. I don't like kids. Generally, I find them noisy, messy, and annoying. They were not something I was remotely interested in having for myself. I had plenty to do, and I was perfectly happy with that. And then...Well, I just sort of woke up one morning early last spring and I simply wanted a baby. Hormones? I don't know, really, perhaps just a little maturity that caught up to me.

What *is* certain is that I was definitely nervous, and quite insecure about the decision, right up until about a month before I found out I was pregnant. At that point, I was simply ready for this baby. Which makes a lot of sense now, given that we now know I was pregnant an entire month and a half before we observed sufficient symptoms to actually go out and buy a pregnancy test. I blame hormones. My body *knew* there was a baby there, and that was that.

After seven and a half months of pregnancy, I now am a firm believer in hormones. I am absolutely teeming with them. Things that *never* bothered me in the past are now suddenly a huge deal. Sad movies. I had never in my life cried at a sad movie. Old Yeller? Pshaw. No problem. Sappiness? No effect. I was an emotional machine...I could handle it. And then, I found myself crying over the scene in the new "Freaky Friday" movie at the end where the mom and daughter swap bodies back to who they were supposed to be.

Huh? What's this wet stuff? And to make matters worse, my well-meaning-but-a-bit-uneducated-in-the-pregnant-wife-department husband asks me "What's your problem?" Which, in the normal course of events, is a perfectly legitimate question. Normally when I cry, there *is* a problem, usually a severe gaping wound of some sort. Of course, that innocent question preciptated precipitation from my eyes, which could be described in terms of "Cats and Dogs."

I thought that was bad. Crying is possibly one of my least favorite activities; it makes me feel...oh, weak is not the right word...perhaps "not in control" would be a better phrase. But no, that crying was not even the tip of the iceburg. Things that were mildly irritating before are now grounds for beheading. The husband is now educated in pregnant-wife-behavior. Well educated. Things that were not even thought of before are now reason to call the emergency room to make sure a loved one is not there. (Don't worry, I didn't actually *call*, but I seriously thought about it.)

Most recently, I had a series of 3 dreams, 3 nights in a row. The first was that my Dad was leaving and wouldn't be coming back ever. Given my first paragraph today, that would be a serious point of concern for me under normal circumstances. Second, Jerry left. I can't remember why, but I do remember waking up crying yet again.

Third, and the worst of all, I dreamed that Jerry died. Then when I woke up that morning, the alarm clock had not gone off, so he was 15 minutes late. By the time he left, I got up, and got to work, I had convinced myself that he had driven too fast trying to be not-quite-so-late and wrecked his truck and was in the emergency room. To top it all off, he was in such a hurry that he forgot his cell phone. I did the only thing I could do. I called his mother. Luckily, he went by her office about 15 minutes later, and I felt sheepish the rest of the day.

And it goes on. Folding clothes. Sink hygene. Litterbox (which I can't change right now) issues. You name it, I've been upset about it. I'm sort of getting used to it. I'm not sure Jerry ever will.

Smells like Chicken!

My dogs eat meat.

Raw meat.

With bones in it.

My cats eat cat food. They would like to eat raw meat.

Feeding time at my house is always an adventure. Most times, the dogs eat outside, however, this must be a carefully choreographed ballet that changes every day since the dogs don't eat the same thing all the time.

First, we as owners must put on our thinking caps at the beginning of the day, decide what the dogs will eat that night, and pull the appropriate package out of the freezer to set in the sink so it can thaw during the day. However, if they are eating fish that day, it must be left in the freezer until *after* work, since the stench would overpower us by the time we got home if we left it out all day. We get our fish off the screens at my family's Trout Hatchery, so they're not particularly fresh at the time of freezing. The dogs love them. You can see a picture of our waterfall here.

Next, the ballet begins. The dogs are Pavloved to know that when the TV gets turned off, they're most likely going to be fed. First, you must grab the food and get outside with all appendages still attached. Camie can be a bit "grabby" when she's hungry. Next, you divide the portions and place them on opposite sides of the lawn. Camie must be fed first, then Aly. Pack dynamics dictate that the alpha eat first, and Camie is nothing if not Alpha. However, Camie is also a Hoover. So by the time you put down her food, cross the lawn and give Aly her food, Camie is half done. Aly is a picker, and it takes her significantly longer to eat. SO, once you leave food for Aly, and get back to the side of the lawn Camie's on, Camie is done, and you must take steps to prevent the theft of Aly's dinner. Camie must be caught and brought inside with you. That is easier said than done.

The real fun is when it's too yucky outside for the dogs to "eat out". In these instances, they are fed in the kitchen, which means you add 3 cats to the choreography. Chrissy, the psycho orange pumpkin, generally does not cause a problem, except when the path of least resistance to escape the meat-devouring dogfest in the kitchen takes her up and over a human. Madison and Paris are a completely different story.

Madison is a slightly neurologically handicapped cat about 1.5 years old. She is that way because she had distemper as a kitten, which, if you can get them to survive, commonly leaves the cats with a balance and/or motor control problem. In short, her physical and motor skills halted at about the 4 month old mark, and she'll probably be that way the rest of her life. Very sweet, but not all there, and she falls down a lot. Basically, she's not mentally competent enough to recognize that two Huskies at 50 and 75 pounds could smash her into a pulp.

Paris is an 8 month old Siamese kitten that just appeared by our house one day when she was about 8 weeks old. She's daddy's girl, and after getting over the initial shock of having d.o.g.s in the same household as her royal highness, she's completely and totally oblivious to the fact that there are large carnivores in her domain. In the dog's defense, they are very trustworthy with the cats, which is uncommon in the Husky type dogs.

When we feed the dogs inside, it's a real challenge to see that Camie eats her own food and no one else's, that Aly actually eats her food, and that the two kittens who insist on poking their heads into the dog's raw dinner don't get eaten by accident. I'll have to make it a priority to get a picture of Paris pushing Camie's head, complete with bone-crushing jaw action, out of the bowl to get a tidbit of whatever Camie's eating at the time.

And that is feeding the animals at my house. Very interesting and amusing to me, perhaps not so much to someone else. But it is the way our house works, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

First blog entry

Hmmm, how's that for a creative, descriptive, catchy title for my first blog ever?

Well, anyway, HI! I'm CJ. Mostly known online as Huskies4all. That's the actual dog, not the college sports team.

Gosh, about me. Let's see...you're never supposed to reveal anything about yourself online, right? So here goes. I'm 28 years old, been married for 9 years, and I'm expecting my first baby on or about February 8, 2005.

Yep, that's right, CJ, the confirmed child hater, is gonna have a little Nolan Patrick. Nolan for my husband's late grandfather, and Patrick for my father. My family believes in recycling names. In case you're interested, you can count down the days to his arrival here. If it's after February 8, 2005, most likely that link is not going to work, because he's already here. In that case, you can probably see announcements in later blog entries, or at my home page.

Oh, yeah, about me, right? Back to business.

I live in Southern Idaho. Yes, there are actually people who live here, and yes, we have indoor plumbing. No, I don't ride my horse to work. Yes, I've been more than 10 miles from home.

At the moment, I'm a Certified Veterinary Technician. After Nolan, I'll be a stay-at-home Certified Veterinary Technician, until such time as my certification expires, then I'll just be a lowly stay-at-home-mom. Honestly, I'm ready to be done with work now, but I'm going to stick with work until the middle of Janury, I think. It all depends on when Nolan wants to show his little face.

I'm getting impatient to meet him. Pregnancy has been a piece of cake; I still haven't figured out what all the complaining is about. People keep telling me how miserable they are/were when they were pregnant, and at the moment, I'm a bit under the impression that they're a bunch of weenies. Ask me again when I'm in labor.

Other interests of mine, not necesarily in any order:

Siberian Huskies (obviously)

Reading (mostly fantasy, but I'll branch out into other genres if it looks interesting)
-Robert Jordan is my favorite
-George R. R. Martin a close second
Both of the above better get busy writing, or we're going to have words.
-David Eddings - always good for that light reading
-The ever-popular JK Rowling
-C.S. Lewis - the Narnia series is what interested me in Fantasy in second grade.
-J. R. R. Tolkien (obviously)

Skiing - I live near Sun Valley Idaho, but this year is going to be pretty sad for me on the skiing side. Hopefully I'll get in some spring skiing after Nolan gets here.

Just about anything else about me is somewhere on my home page.

Ok, that's it. Hopefully I remember to update this thing. If not, I blame in on pregnancy-induced hormonal brain fog. So there.