It's the Little Things...

After work today, I will pick up the kids and drive to the nearby over-sized chain megastore in order to buy a new vacuum.  It is not a particularly expensive vacuum (i.e., it is NOT a Dyson...oh, but that it were, though!), but it is all HEPA-filtery and pet-fur fighting, and it is a snazzy shade of red.

Mine, all MINE!!!

But, the thing is, I am stupid excited about it.  Our vacuum was broke-ish a few weeks ago, but it rattled and clanked on, but then earlier this week I realized that it was not so much "picking up dirt and allergens" as flinging them out and spraying them around room at a high rate of speed.  There was no actual sucking up and retaining of said yuckiness.

So, today I am giving in and taking the plunge.  Honestly, though, as frequently as we go through vacuums, it is not that big of a commitment, it just means I have to fork over more cash.  I think this is the third vacuum in the past 12 months.

I am not exactly WHY we are going through so many vacuums.  When I moved out of my parents' house, lo those many moons ago, I took with my my mother's hand-me-down vacuum.  It had served her well for, perhaps, ten years, and it gave me another ten years of faithful service.  But, admittedly, that was before I was "married with children."  I won't even tell you some of the crap we have dug out of the bowels of those poor vacuums.

The thing that gets me is actually not so much the high rate of vacuum turnover, it is how absolutely GIDDY I am about getting a new vacuum.  I can't wait to buy it, to put it together, and (gasp!) to vacuum with it for the first time (swoon!).

Maybe my giddiness has something to do with feeling like if my surrounding are organized and pulled together that I am, somehow, miraculously, more organized and pulled together myself.  Maybe it is a control thing (i.e., I am a neat freak and it makes me happy).  Maybe it is just an aesthetic thing; I like to be surrounded by things that are beatiful and artistic and seeped in memories, not piles of crap.  Or perhaps it is some combination of all of that.

At any rate, I am getting a new vacuum...and I will vacuum repeatedly...until I can't get anything else out of the carpets, and the cats run in terror, and the kids' blare their TV to hear it over the noise of me cleaning...and I will be smiling.

Today I Did Not Crash and Burn...

...which, by my own definition, makes it a "good" day.

I am trying to keep some perspective here, so bear with me while I ramble.

You see, I have this checklist, and if I answer more than three of these questions as a "no" then I have to proclaim it to be a "Good Day."  Grab some paper and a pen (or pencil, I am not picky) and answer along with me:

1. Did anyone I know and love (or at least like) die?  (This can include animals, if you are so inclined, as I am.)
2. Did a major appliance or vehicle catch fire or become otherwise unusable?
3. Did my major source of income dry up or otherwise become unavailable to me?
4. Is there a major draught or famine that is affecting my ability to feed my family?
5. Did I lose a limb or major organ which cannot be rectified by the "miracle of modern science"?

So, even though my son had to have ten (yes, TEN!) vials of blood drawn to check for a plethora of scary medical issues that might be causing his "heart pain" (as he describes it), and even though my roof is still not fixed, and even though I worry about cars, and bills, and insurance coverage matters, and taking time off for doctors' appointments, and all those other things that seem to be attacking me...I guess it is still a good day.

No one died (knocking on wood), no one has called about any fires or other major appliance meltdowns (still knocking), my husband and I are both still employed (knock, knock...do you see a theme here?), we have food in the fridge, and all my limbs and major organs are all accounted for...so see, all is (basically) well.  (I am going to cease knocking now.)

They won't have the bloodwork back on my son until late this week, and I will let you know as we find out more.  Until then, I welcome any prayers, positive energy, good vibes, blessed intentions, or anything else that might fortify us in the meantime.

Too Hungry to Even Think of a Title

So...vegan it is.  I met with the immunologist on Monday, and she confirmed all my food allergies:  milk, egg, beef, pork, chicken, walnuts, pecans, sunflower seeds, buckwheat, garlic, and pineapple.  And let's not forget the enviromental, sycamore, oak, maple, cedar, and many more trees, eight kinds of mold, various grasses, including one called Timothy, and ragweed and sage, and dustmites, dogs, cats, and birds.  But apparently I can go roll around naked in the Bermuda grass, because it is about the only thing I am NOT allergic to.

So I am currently going through a period of adjustment.  It varies from trying to educate myself and be very pragmatic about the whole thing, then ten minutes later I am ticked off and hungry and not coping very well.  Right now I am on day three of the cranky-hungries.  (Or, for you Harry Potter fans out there, I am feeling rather "Ron Book Seven.")

If you have any good vegan cookbooks you can recommend, favorite vegan products, or if you just want to leave a comment of encouragement, I would be thrilled if you would take a moment...  Food is such a social aspect in our life that having to eat such a restrictive diet is making me feel a bit isolated.

However, in the interest of being a "cup half full" kinda gal (even when my stomach is half empty), at least all this STILL makes for a better day than my kitty Sirius will be having come Monday...

 
...when he finally gets neutered.  (He doesn't know yet.)  I may have to forgo a whole pile of foods that I really love but, hey, at least I still have all the same girl parts as I came into the world with...I call that a win!

You may have noticed that I do actually have cats (despite said cat allergy).  To that, I reply...could you resist this?

Nope, neither could I.  So, we are looking at Rapid Allergy Desensitization, which is basically a fancy way of saying that I need to take off work, get allergy injections all day long at regular intervals while they watch to make sure I don't keel over, and then after said Day of Hell, I "get" to take shots every week for a couple of months, then bi-monthly, and then finally monthly (for about 3-5 years).  If anyone has done this, or knows someone who has, please let me know your experience with the procedure.

In the meantime, I am heading off to bed to read Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin (but I will probably fall asleep as soon as I slide in bed...I gave up caffeine as well this week).  I am already so tired that my eyes hurt, and I have resigned myself to fixing any typos tomorrow...