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Beardie Tales
Broly the new super saiyan beardie
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[QUOTE="SHBailey, post: 1874705, member: 89387"] Hi -- I still think you're wise about coping with depression, no matter how good you can play the guitar. But you remind me that one of the things I have to learn how to regulate is the level of "challenge" in the difficulty of the music I try to play. Too much = frustration. I have to go back to playing the easy stuff. I guess the right time to get kittens came sooner than you thought it would, thanks to your friend's kitty's unplanned pregnancy, huh? Yeah, we know that if you let an unfixed female cat outdoors (especially when she's in heat), you WILL get kittens. Been there, done that, I'm ashamed to say, but I was about 13 years old. One of these days I'm going to have to tell my kitten story, but I'll probably put it in a separate TLDR. It sounds like you drew the short straw from your family's gene pool. Nobody's fault -- luck of the draw, but yeah, still a WTF to live with. (Sanitized version: WTF = Where's The Fun :wink: ) You and Tom were wonderful to nurse Dewey and CJ back to health and give them the best life possible after what they went through as kittens. Too bad most men don't want their wives to see them cry. I've known my husband for over 20 years now, married for 19, and in all that time I've seen that man cry ONCE. Long story, but our marriage was on the rocks just briefly. He got a hug, and the divorce didn't happen. What's so bad about that? Everyone has their own way of figuring out how long they need to grieve before they move on, get another pet, or whatever. You and Tom know what's right for you. I'm not very familiar with heavy metal groups like Metallica, etc, but your song titles reminded me of a time years ago (1998) when I went to the Alaska State Fair with my nephew and sister. He liked Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, and they were playing at the Fair. I wasn't at all familiar with their music. Someone in the audience kept calling out, "I hate myself for loving you!" I thought he was declaring his feelings for Joan, but when they finally played the song, I realized that it was actually a request. :lol: Yes I remember the PMs. Won't say anything else about that here. It's ok to PM me again if you feel the need, otherwise, we can leave it at that. I've called myself the B word (as in female dog), but my husband always disagrees with me. My hypothesis is that something fried his brain when he fell in love with me. I often tell him that he got the short end of the deal in this marriage, but he seems happy in his little delusion so I probably shouldn't hassle him with reality. :mrgreen: I thought I was getting better from my depression late last week and maybe going into a nice little hypomanic episode, but no such luck -- it came with a migraine, one of my little genetic short straws that I probably got from my mother. Being bipolar (if that is indeed what I am) is like your train of thought turns into a bunch of little bumper cars and they all go zipping off every which way, but then when they finally line themselves all back up into a train, the locomotive runs out of steam, so the train never gets very far. :( I didn't feel depressed or sad, but if I tried to do anything at all it made my head hurt. Couldn't even do music -- needed quiet. So I got into an argument with Puff last Friday. He started doing his little "Get me out of here" act, and I told him I wasn't going to fall for it this time. I actually managed to get him to poop "downstairs" on the paper towels exactly where it would be easiest for me to clean it up and I almost thought I could manage it, but of course he expected me to keep my end of the bargain by taking him out of the tank and cleaning it up IMMEDIATELY, and when I did not comply right away, he made a point of stepping in it and giving me The Look :angry5: . I left the room for a moment and when I came back, he had given up on me and climbed back up on his basking platform, leaving little poopy footprints behind him. My poor husband had to clean it up when he got home from work, but at least it was somewhat dried up by then. I'm such a pitiful excuse for a beardie slave. :oops: "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." We had a pretty good weekend together though. Managed to find some more crickets at the pet store (no roaches -- latest shipment DOA -- someone must have left them out in the snow :banghead: ), fed him crickets both Saturday and Sunday, finally managed to make up a fresh batch of Repashy Grub Pie, etc. :) We even managed to give the tank a good cleaning, and I managed to vacuum out most of the little pieces of shed skin. But in order to do that, I had to remind myself of the little motto, "If you don't have time to do it right, when will you have time to do it over?" He's almost done shedding now, except for some really stubborn patches on the anterior half of his tail. Whew! I was afraid that would never be over. No more headache today, but it's still full of bumper cars. I just spaced and washed a load of my husband's wool shirts in regular detergent instead of the special kind for wool. Puff did get his good morning cuddle earlier, and now he's bouncing off the walls in his tank, but I don't feel safe to take him out until my husband comes home, just in case I get distracted and do something stupid with him. My husband gets the same way sometimes. I call it scatterbrained, he calls it flop-headed -- same thing. But he and I both agree that two flop-heads are better than one. :roll: [/QUOTE]
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