When I posted on January 9th, and said I was stressed and had updates, I--never got back to that. So her we go.

Back in December, a few things happened. The first is my grandmother, my mom's mom, died. IT wasn't expected, but it wasn't entirely a surprise. Right on top of that--and probably related--Child went and got a puppy. And six days after we got him, the Saturday before Christmas, he was diagnosed with parvo.

So with a kit from Austin Pet's Alive, we treated Parsnip (yes, like the vegetable; no, I really don't know why Child picked that name) at home with an IV in the back of the shoulder/neck and three shots daily. It was very dramatic; it also ended with us still having a very living, very into inappropriate pooping puppy, so that ended well. Then a week and change later--six days before I posted in January--I was six days into home quarantine for COVID exposure and not taking it well.

Yeah, up until inauguration, I was really doubting like--everything.

Now to update to today:
1.) I start college again next Monday. This is going to be interesting.
2.) Me and my mom got vaccinated with the first dose of the Moderna vaccine on Saturday.

I posted a thread on twitter, but I'm going to reproduce it here for those who are worried about the vaccine or want some reassurance on how it went, etc.

Spoiler: for what I think we can consider a pretty fucking epic personal event--Vaccination in a Time of Pandemic COVID: An Autobiography--it was about as exciting as changing socks. Not even wet socks for dry or plain for fancy: just standard sock change.

In other words: awesomely, wonderfully, gorgeously mundane and unexceptional.

( vaccine in a time of covid )

Testing Barley, Oat, and Wheat Hay with rabbits. At minimum, it does not make me sneeze and they seem to like it. Comments stated it was the one hay that someone could use that they weren't allergic to, so here's to hoping after a few days of exposure.

I see the allergist on Monday, which will hopefully give me an idea of what I should be avoiding from now on. I would like to know what life is like when one is not constantly blowing one's nose. V. exciting.

So I have yet to rewrite the introduction post on how I acquired so many rabbits. In lieu, Bunny Files on tumblr.

( quick update to that post )

Now, about the Seperis Warren!

( Seperis Warren )

Living the rabbit life.

ETA: Augustus and Arsinoë have been returned to the Warren. Currently everything is in a sort-of armistice.

The Search for Puppies (Dogs, Animals, Non-Pony Size):

So I do not have a puppy. However, I do now have applications at the Humane Society and the animal shelter, because there's like, no way to get a dog otherwise. You may think I am kidding, but apparently, getting a shelter dog is wait-listed or something, cue red carpet and bouncers staring at you as you leave longing eye-tracks on a variety of, let me say this now, hideously ugly animals (with good personalities! Sometimes. Sometimes, I'm just confused). And it's not like I'm picky on appearance--I want a.) good with kids and b.) does not try to kill anyone with their sharp, sharp teeth. I mean, seriously speaking, my expectations are low.

I mean, I would prefer an attractive dog, but honestly, personality beats out looks pretty much ten times out of ten. Dad's Luke is a fairly standard looking German shepherd with impeccable manners and a lazy streak and we love him for both of those things. I do not want the Chris Pine of the animal world.

...sorry, I needed a minute to go look at pictures of him in winterlive's LJ. It happens.

Anyway. Saturday we hit two places: at the Humane Society, found a pretty miniature poodle (dislikes kids, restraint issues, beady eyes), a daschund (dislikes humans and possibly air?), a boxer mix (beady eyes, a bad habit of staring at my throat longingly), and a kind of beagleish animal (pretty, under evaluation, gentle eyes, short). Then there was this super charming Great Dane/Pyrennes mix, which totally I could have loved but it was pretty much the equivalent of a pony and it wasn't done growing. I mean, sure, it could be fun to play with and to ride to the rescue of princesses, but um. Yeah. I'm just thinking that in the event of an emergency, I want to be able, in general, to not be dragged behind my dog helplessly. Which with that one? Possibly drag my house as well.

The Animal Shelter was in fact even more bizarre--it's not like one thinks of that as a hotbed of adoption, but honestly, yes, it was. Every dog--every dog I'd identified as a potential was Interest Pending or Adoption. There was a very nice looking golden-eyed Shar-Pei mix that was medium-large and kind of bony (needs feeding and laziness, which we could provide!), but he kept staring at my mother in this way none of us were sure was friendly, and also, they weren't entirely convinced on temperament with kids. I cannot remember the mix, but the second parent's general temperament was recommended for older kids, so sadly, no.

Found: five Labrador retriever puppies (OMG CUTE!) but disturbingly large for their reputed age with that frightening paw circumference that implies Pony Sized Dog; four pit-bull/poodle combos (you really don't see that one coming), and some other random mixes. But I'm totally not kidding; every dog I even felt a vague attraction to was already spoken for. And basically, the only ones I didn't were a.) some really really sullen pitt bull mixes (I mean, like, I am looking at them for family-adoption purposes and I could actually feel their scorn) and the pit/poodle, which on one hand, maybe, but on another, poodles are not usually super small child friendly and I don't know what kind of pitt the other parent was, and also, they were cute, but holy god the shedding. The shedding.

[And the size. I'm pretty sure they meant standard poodle (I--cannot deal with the miniature one on this; again, you really don't see that kind of mix coming) and the paw size was very, very unnervingly close to Small But Furry Pony.]

So you see why I don't have a dog. I mean, I may have to actually go to a professional breeder, which totally screws my resolution to adopt. There are a few rescues I've been looking at, but the first few I checked required a strip search and possible FBI background checks* before being allowed to look at a dog, so yeah, no idea where this is going.

[* really not kidding. A year or so ago they had a pet adoption day at some place and I was looking over the paperwork and realized there was a real similarity between it and the forms we use for people who want to become foster parents of actual children. Especially small breeds. Man, there was space on that application to put your criminal record. Not even including multiple home visits and a trial period.]

The Search for Betas (Long, Long, Long Story Size):

It's--not done, current count 35K. Estimated word count is 50k in final draft, but svmadelyn has bet on 60K, so who the hell knows. The reason I'm asking when I'm still about 15K from final is that it's actually three sections that are also (somewhat) self-contained, and the first two are complete and I kind of want those done separately on their own before the whole thing is done together for continuity.

Reboot, sequel to You'll Get There in the End, did I mention it's going to be long and patience will be required? Probably two weeks until completed. Email at seperis at gmail or comment here.

In closing: I may never get a dog.

One of the first rules I learned on the internetz is that if there is not a price on an item for sale, there's a pretty good chance I can't afford it. This seems triply true for dogs.

...considering what they are listing the price as, that is. I--I understand, on some level, that the AKC etc dogs are an expensive enterprise. That does not change the fact that pet-quality starting in the three thousands is disturbing. Show quality was call only--dear God.

Anyway.

My mother has wanted a Maltese forever. And I do mean that. And for the last three years, I have determined, yes, I will get her a Maltese. This is especially powerful during Mother's Day and her birthday. And I have yet to find one that does not require a mortgage or a blood oath or I'm not vaguely worried about health by the misspellings in the ads.

(Also, breeders cannot design websites. I mean, wow. Law of averages says I should find one that can. I have yet to hit a private breeder who did not believe more is better and that was painfully true for colors and fonts. I keep fighting the urge to email with a "If you will sell me a puppy for less than a kidney, I will redo this for you so it will not offend my eyes, my ears, and your text will be readable. And also help you with that background color problem. As it is hideous. And I will update it for you regularly, because you hurt my aesthetics. A lot.

...seriously. Gah. *stares at websites*

...because I am a dork, GIP of my rabbit Waffles, in his Christmas finery.

By the beauteous and talented and omg awesome belletrist, who immortalized my bunny and his feelings for me.



From this entry.

*hugs belletrist. Thank you very, very much.

Okay, quickly, I have a few Christmas icons I uploaed that I haven't used in a few years and I need to add credit. They are below cut--if you made them for me, please tell me so I can add the credit?

( if you recognize these.... )

And part 3 of this entry. AKA, why I love Dell.

( so I was a little paranoid )

It's midnight, so my lj will let me post.

I feel like an infomercial. God.

Waffles

For those new, Waffles is my rabbit.

( picture under cut )

Due to drama and circumstance, Waffles has been restricted to his cage or his playpen outside. It's a long story that involves pneumonia and etc. Anyway, I took him out today, put him in his playpen, spread out some cut grass for him to chew or destroy, whichever, some water, his green castle, and left him to do his thing.

I came out about an hour later to see the pen kind of bent, and the dog staring at something on the ground.

Wait. I *remember* this.

Anyway, here is what has to hae happened. Dog got into pen, took out rabbit (I seriously have no idea how else it could have happened--the rabbit does not have wings and the pen is now permanetly closed on all sides). Chased rabbit. Rabbit played dead.

My week, in other words, just about almost got even worse.

Ran to rescue, cuddled him for about an hour, which was nice, since Waffles kind of hates me and hates life. Then after cuddling adn generally acting loving, he bit me lovingly in the stomach and stared up at me until I took him, with all due ceremony, back to his cage. He nodded thoughtfully and promptly returned to eating his apple.

I really need a pet that likes me. Oh, wait, I have Thumper.

( because pru and madelyn are nuts )

I--he came to me in a box. It's hard to explain. But I love him. And sadly, he does beat Waffles for cuddliness.

Fandom Notes

Collected from everywhere. Like I said. Informercial. But after tomorrow, hopefully one with good hair. As I will get my hair recolored.

I.) fanarchive

Posted by bethbethbeth today:

Now, for the update: we have mostly hammered out the structure of the organization and are lining up legal help. On Monday, I will be posting a couple of long and complicated posts (sorry!) outlining the structure and recruiting specifically for the first board and committee chairs. I would ask all of you to please try and invite as many people as you can to join
this community from your own circles, especially if you don't see a lot of representative people on our membership list yet, and also to forward those posts to any appropriate fannish mailing lists that you might be on, or to other fannish people who might not be on LJ. We've gotten a lot of generous offers of help in comments both to the original post and many of the posts here. I haven't had time to reply to all of these, but if that includes you, THANK YOU, and rest assured we will soon be showing up on your doorstep hat in hand. :D

The post collecting volunteers will be up shortly, as will the summary post. If you did not post on the original thread and would like to volunteer, you can drop emyrys a note to be added.

Volunteer post is here.

If you haven't joined, yes, I'll say it, go do so. Our archive. I mean, without you? The rest of us might vote to do blue text on a pink background*. Do you want to be responsible for that while reading your Methos/Green Lantern crossover porn? Do you?

(*this is for dramatic effect. I don't think anyone there is actually evil.)

Please, feel free to spread the word.

II. thecaelum asked me to post this:

I don't have the energy or the focus right now to make canon_sidekicks or social_meta into the kinds of communities that I know they can be. These are both good ideas, and self-sustaining communities that need just a little attention to become relevant, useful, and vibrant little corners of fandom.

Because I'm lacking in what is necessary to run these communities, I'd like to give them over to someone or someones who would be willing to take these ideas and run with them. No strings, no catches. Full ownership of the community would be yours, to do with as you see fit. I would not be involved at all.

If any of you are interested, or know of someone who might be interested, please let me know.

Please drop a line at to thecaelum at mizrudy at yahoo.com or in her post here.

III. Strikethrough 2007

For those still mulling Strikethrough 2007 (I seriously love this name), stewardess has posted "How SixApart's Greed Allied Them with Neo-Nazis". This offers an intriguing possibility on what led to the purge that led to Fandom Harmony We Are All One. Interesting and cynical implications for what we can expect in the future.

IV. 3daychallenge

amireal has a new challenge here.

Topic: International 'What did you say about my mama?' Day Challenge!

This special edition DVD challege is a week-long event! And by that I mean, a week of porn. Please. Bring us porn.

Random

I was curious, so I went looking for livejournal statistics. Because we all know that my favorite thing in the world is random math.

Pulled from Livejournal Statistics.

How many users, and how many of those are active?

Total accounts: 13056367
... active in some way: 1783402
... that have ever updated: 8237102
... updating in last 30 days: 1017235
... updating in last 7 days: 585470
... updating in past 24 hours: 182223

I'd commit many horrible acts to get a breakdown between user accounts and commmunity accounts, and types of accounts (permanent, paid, early adopter, plus, and basic).

*wistful* I'd get to play with numbers for weeks.

ETA contributed by shusu - twistedchick does math.

Ooohhh yeah. That's what I'm talking about.

Okay, done. LJ, it is after midnight. Plz post. Kthx.

So, found camera, found uploading software, and so.

For those who wanted to see, Waffles celebrates Christmas.

( waffles in antlers )

Waffles is fine.

Took him to the vet this afternoon after another night of observation in my room, and so far, all is well. The vet ran stool and blood and did a physical, which seems to show no problems. There's a slight liver something that didn't make sense to me, but he mentioned the words possible parasite, so off the blood sample has gone to Dallas. I'm pretty much going to ignore that until I get proof, and am going with a oh thank goodness. He's eating normally and playing nomrally and hating me with all his being, especially since I kept panicing and pushing him to make him run around so I could watch his balance. I did get ten minute bliss at the vet's, when he stayed firmly curled up in my lap while the vet spoke. He was popular, being a lionhead, and he seemed confused by all the cooing.

He's been banned from the backyard, since there's always a possibility that a toxic plant might be involved, though it's unlikely. For now, he can take exercise in the house or in the front yard where there's only grass in his little playpen, since I know the grass is okay. The vet's not sure snuffles was responsible for the first two, but since there were no symptoms on either, it's a toss-up, and we went over food and their environment to see if there was anything else that might have done it. I've been told not to acquire any more bunnies as a partner for Waffles for a few months, which I am in no danger of doing at this point, and to keep him inside and restricted in his journeying if possible for a while. We set an appointment for his neutering next month to get that out of the way. He seems alert and normal, and I'm just so--relieved, I think. Mostly just watching him bounce around his playpen in my room. He's himself, curled up and grooming his toes and being rabbit like and I'm throwing away everything for fear of contamination that wasn't in his cage, and getting all that cleaned, just in case.

So. Yeah. Barring somethign coming back from Dallas, he's safe.

Um, thank you to the people who sent the lj flowers and note. I really do appreciate it, I just suck at saying it. And I didn't want to even really think until I knew what Waffles was going to do. Reggie really--he threw me the worst when it happened. He was my first and he was my favorite and he's the one I knew best, and comparatively speaking, I don't know Waffles nearly as well. And it's weird, with him alone in here when I'm used to mediating between all four, and I hate that cage so much that I want to get an exacto knife and start pulling it apart right now, except it's wet and rainy and I just don't even want to look at it. And I really don't want to talk about this again, so with any kind of luck, this will be the last time I need to update on any pet related problems and go with a future of worrying about carrot size and if changing to a differnet kind of pellet would be a good idea.

Okay, but. Everything's fine. Except I have to clean his playpen again, because he's rebelling against oppression by making a huge mess every so often. Good luck, bunnyboy.

Bryante and Sloppy, my twin mini Holland lops, both died today. Both were eating normally, playing normally. Sloppy we found when we got home this afternoon from a family reunion, laying down in his cage. Bryante, his brother, got out later in the evening and I found him dead in the yard a few minutes ago.

You know, I really don't want to dig another grave here. Waffles is in isolation in his cage and Reggie's in my room currently under strict observation while I panic about how two healthy, normal rabbits die. I just--don't get it.

Comments disabled. I seriously am not in the right frame of mind to even think straight.

Thing the First

I am in that place where I want sections.

Last night--and this is just weird--I dreamed that--I'm *not kidding*--Rodney and Rod decided to like, start a war or something. Against each other. I remember nothing else but this bit where there was this--tunnel thing?--that connected the two realities and, well, *arguing*. I'm kind of pissed, because for a dream concept, that's damned cool, and I'd like details, dammit.

OTOH, it did make me wonder, in the early hours of the morning, what in the name of God Rodney would *do*. I'm thinking bomb Rod's lab while Rod's doing whatever he does with the Athosians. I mean, that's what I'd do, since I carry residual Rod-rage--okay, that really is funny if you say it out loud. But I am cruel.

But still. A Rodney versus Rod war! How cool is *that*?

Thing the Second

In far less intersting news--and that's saying something--I started playing with zohowriter. The thing is, I write in a very specific way--in Word, Times New Roman 12, regular margin. So writing in zoho is, to say the least, a little disorienting. I got around thirteen hundred words done and then stared at it, because it doesn't feel as much like me as MS Word. I'm actually aware how weird that sounds. But it took the story I was writing in a direction I'm not sure I was actually planning to go. It's like that second in Teacher's Pet where I realized that I could totally go to the dark side and torture an eight year old. It was very wrong. And yet oh so right.

Thing the Third: Waffles

Mr. Waffles somehow managed to leap from his penthouse to the bottom floor of teh cage. I have no idea how this happened, but when I finally got up, I see rabbits in motion--and in retrospect, they'd been fighting for a while by then--with Waffles leaping bravely to the floor level and cowering in a corner. I grabbed him up and held him in my lap while he shook and *shook* and checked him over for injury--but seriously. It was really freaky. Waffles allows cuddling but does not welcome it. This? Was welcoming it.

Anyway, just fed them their nightly salad and trying to mix in more rabbit food for the additional vitamins into their diet. I get they need a natural as possible diet, but reading the vitamin content on the last bag I picked up for emergencies is encouraging me to supplement with some of it. Just to be sure.

Thing the Fourth

You've got to be kidding. My life isn't that interesting.

Five Ancient devices they really shouldn't have initialized. by miss_porcupine - I just like the entire concept of it. And I loved the fifth one like a lot.

Productivity

Being grumpy with a toothache always puts me in the mood to write. For those who are unaware, I was stoned on painkillers--I mean, seriously, I was taking three Vicadin every four hours because it escalated into a jaw infection--while writing Happy Little Sounds, which in this day and age would be called "crackfic".

God, those were good times.

Anyway, so this is the active WIP report, or anything worked on in the last two weeks.

( crimes against humanity, the continuing melodrama )

( teacher's pet )

( daedalus )

( strangerverse: field )

ETA: 9/18/2006 Completed! What You Can't Leave Behind

( common ground tag )

Pets and Things

I always keep thinking I will use my lj to keep track of rabbit feeding changes and always forget. But the current line up is as follows.

Salad: romanine, green leaf, red leaf, kale, parsley, spinach, cabbage mix, celery and carrot as main vegetables.

Okay, so next up is to check on watercress and boston head and some other greens I've seen that look tasty.

Also--this mix makes an excellent salad for people. Child swears by it. Except when I put in the cilantro.

Speaking of, there are brownies somewhere in this house. Hmm. If chewing did not hurt? I would be all over that.

Seriously loving my icon for this.

Child

Apparently, while I was gone, Child spent most of his days with my sister's soon to be ex-husband, and somehow, while for three months he managed to avoid even a golden sun glow, he got tanned. He's looking too old now. It's disconcerting.

Child started his new school today, looking revoltingly adorable in his red shirt, khaki pants, and black shoes. I mean, seriously. It was almost lethal, the cuteness. I took pictures, because I am a parent and one day, a lot of these are going up on a very large screen at a major birthday party. I haven't decided which birthday, but I'm thinking it'll be when he hits full teenage rebellion and I need a really passive-aggressive way of retaliating when he starts accusing me of being evil and out to keep him down. Randomly, he also resents the fact that I get to color my hair and he doesn't, since he likes the red I'm using now.

Sometimes, this kid boggles me a little.

In his continuing education in all that bad sci-fi has to offer, he's marathoning the end of Farscape season two and picking up a weird thing for Dark Angel. His bitterness over the end of the latest season of Dr. Who has yet to abate, which is one of the things I nod solemnly with him over and think how well he'd fit into a disturbing number of comms out there. I've taken to calling him MiniFanboy, which makes him snort, but seriously, the kid who collects lizards and whose greatest ambition is to get his own laptop? Cannot throw stones here.

The curriculum looks interesting. He starts Spanish, thank God, since seriously, second languages should be started as young as possible. The math class looks a heck of a lot better than the one I took at his age. PE is gymnastics and wow, so *this* is how you get visual crushes on your children's teachers! I'd missed that part of my parental development. There's also a lot of afterschool clubs that look promising. His class is fairly small and ethnically diverse, with a surprising percentage of Middle Eastern in the general mix of Caucasian, Black, and Hispanic, and I think the math teacher and the principal are Turkish. There were also several women in headscarves and longer dresses that were either teachers or staff. There's going to be classes in Turkish food, culture, language, etc, which I'm encouraging him to attend. My mother toured the school on Saturday while, strangely, I was singing karaoke in Chicago--yes, that amuses the hell out of me--and saw the lab, the computer lab, the gym, and the classrooms. I'm hoping that the computer classes start soon--his typing is a disgrace, and they'll be able to scare him more thoroughly than denying him the latest Stargate Atlantis eps.

But seriously, seeing little herds of red-shirted, khaki'ed K-5 never stops oversaturating me with cuteness.

Rabbits

My sister was in charge of keeping my rabbits alive and functional while I was gone, and she did. However, the cage is a nightmare. A terrible, terrible nightmare. This has to be retaliation, because there's no way they could have managed to cover two floors of cage with an even (even!) spread of hay and waste and urine in an unbreakable crust.

It's amazing. And they *look* at me, hugely dark innocent eyes of powerful amusement that they know how much I will absolutely hate cleaning it up.

Lizards

The leopard gekko made a bid for freedom into the couch. We assume he's escaped to his brethren in the wilderness of the backyard. Let us all take a minute to mourn his loss.

Make that a second. Otherwise, all is copasetic on the reptile front.

Still Tired

I mean, wiped out.

You know you are tired when you are having long, drawn-out fantasies about your bed. During the second to last insomnia attack, I was utterly obsessed with bedclothes--sheets, pillows, throw pillows, comforters, finding the perfect sleep position, *more pillows*. It was disturbing.

Recently, a few weeks before this episode, I started getting interested in curtains for my bed and giving long looks at Linens and Things that felt a little--well. I just don't think it's healthy to be trying to stroke high thread count sheets and staring at silk blends I cannot afford without a mortgage on my liver. And growl when people come too close.

Yeah. My most recent excursion had me forcibly removing myself from applying for a Linens and Things credit card. Not healthy.

Lizard Report

The Bearded Dragon AKA Junior, the reason that I'll need blood pressure medication before my fortieth birthday, has grown to an astonishing and frankly creepy size. Child drags him out and carries him about the house and general area while he watches with tiny bead-black eyes and plots our demise.

I know, I *know* that it would be fairly hard for him to kill me. I'd basically have to lie down still for a few days and let him gum my throat to pieces. However, this does not stop my instinctive flinch every time he looks up. Plus, he's showing signs of depression, which argues homicide could be in the future. He lays around under his heat lamp and on top of his heating pad on his astroturf floor--and I will never recover from the knowledge a desert animal cannot have sand in his terrarium--and looks really flaccid. I've been told this is normal happy reptile behavior, but I see signs of psychosis in the way he twitches his tail when I have to walk by his territory.

My son is looking at the Unix lizard. Hmm.

Okay, it's not called a unix. It has a hideously complex double Latin name with a set of consonants that do not go together, but I call him Unix. They're pretty cool, as far as hideous reptiles go, with a terraced tail and a terrifying grimace that apparently hides a heart of pure gold. I'm really not falling for that.

Problem is, Child really wants him. And it is cheaper to buy crickets by the thousand and have them shipped. I wish I could say I was kidding, but I'm not.

Herpeteon

Yes, I went back. Scene of my downfall, where I bought three rabbits and never looked back. Of course, it was breeding python day or something, so a massive terrarium set up front was chock full of four massive pythons. You could buy the entire set--why do you need three to breed?--along with cage--I'm assumign so you dont have to take them out and let them kill you. The biggest, the fourth, was sold separately and scared me silly. Later, I stared blankly at the soothing toads and cheerful turtles, after a gauntlet run of small yellow snakes, big green snakes, and Unnamed Things that frankly, I could live the rest of my life without having flashbacks of in my nightmares. However, they also had the *tiniest* little baby bearded dragons, and God, that's so deceptive. The tiny ones are like, less than the length of my finger and--as far as evil reptiles go--*adorable*.

They also had a miniature potbelly pig. No, I did not want him. But he and the hairless rats and the few bunnies there were basically my line to sanity while I picked out a new bowl for Junior and some jungle vine to put in his cage.

Rabbits

Mr. Waffles likes me and lets me hold him briefly if I keep up a pretty constant stream of petting. Really, do we need to know anything more?

Other

I need to write something. Just--something. A focus point of relaxation from reptile and lapine evils.

Okay, this morning *sucked*. First thing in, there was this *pile* and I won't even describe it because, well, it's a very boring kind of pile, and very large, which kind of figures, doesn't it? But. My day got *better*. ( rabbits in the office )

So, flist....

Whilst trying to control teh Competinng Alpha Males of Doom, I got a fairly painful bite about two and a half inches below my knee (I was crosslegged in the pen and Waffles went for Reggie and got me instead. Frankly, I'm lucky it wasn't my hand). Open wound, two definnite punctured areas, and Waffles dug in and held on so it took a bit to pry him off. I slathered with antibiotic. Now, question.

1.) I'm healthy, other than the allergy thing. Do I bother with a doctor?

2.) Do I need to do anything but antibiotic and cover?

Seriously, this thing has a pain thing going on. It's very--hmm. Shooting when I move. But the bite is very tiny. Huh.

I'd like to say that my life has somehow become violently interesting, but no.

We'll split this into three separate but equal categories of sheer boredom.

Rabbits

Not litter trained. Basically, against the advice of every book and webpage a I have bought or hunted, mine are the messy, messy exception to the basic rule of rabbits. All four of the little bastards. Reggie recently discovered a new mutation in rabbit abilities--teleportation. In which you put him in a pen that's about three or four times higher than his body length, and he still gets out. I--really have no idea how he's doing this. Gravity is kind of working against him on this one. All the laws of nature and man are working against him on this one. But no, six fifty-five this morning, he's out, running the living room.

Work

Last Tuesday, called into another Manager's Meeting to seriously discuss the entire cake and card thing that apparently outranks world hunger as an important part of our jobs. I wish I could explain how surreal it is to sit in front of four managers, one soon-to-be manager, and an associate commissioner and try not to ask, "Are you all crazy? Why do you care? Why in the name of God am I revising this again? Why did I need to revise it in the first place?" The really worst part is, none of these people have a sense of humor except my manager, and even his is fairly low-key, so I'm beginning to suspect that the position requires you to be as deadpan and boring as possible and he's just barely escaping being sucked in. Apparently, the entire time I'm seriously, seriously arguing birthday policy, he's staring at the wall so as not to break up my very serious, serious speech by giggling himself sick. Afterward, he snickered his way through our unit meeting explaining how I made an argument for an office scavenger hunt sound like a speech on behalf of world peace.

I mean. On one hand? I kick ass. On the other. Oh dear God, what am I becoming?

For those interested, the policy in question is under the cut. This is, theoretically, the final draft of the policy covering 2006 and implementation is retroactive to February--and no, I have no idea what the hell that means, it's a *birthday policy* but you know what? Maybe they'e building me a time machine.

( i lost a little of my soul for this )

Other occassions subsection was revised *six times*. And I still have hand-written notes that I'm pretending I never got, because seriously, my nerves aren't up to this.

Stumped

Okay. So. If I just said, I want to do a challenge! But don't tell you what it is until after you sign up--would anyone do that? Okay, right, probably not. But see, it's on my New Year's Resolution list and I really, really want to get some of that stuff out of the way before I end up scaring myself on New Year's Eve trying to do it all.

In further news...ohh, new comptuers at work! Oh wow.

This probably deserves a longer entry, but I'm relatively sure I have creeped out and/or deeply concerned many friends wiht my rabbit obsession For those who worried--Madelyn's calling my mom if I so much as *mention* the thought of maybe getting another rabbit. And sadly, she has all my phone numbers. It's not like I can hide from her very well. I mean, I *could*, but people will rat me out. They always do.

So quick note:

I introduced Mr Waffles (this will never stop making me twitch, will it?) to the rest of the Warren, where an attempt at bonding via group orgy went so badly I can't even describe the looks on every rabbit's face, but wow. You wouldn't think anything so cute and fluffy could look homidical, except I was sitting in the pen armed with a spray water bottle and let me tell you, all those little bastards got soaked. I took everything outside to ease transition, since I worried that Mr. W, being bigger, would kick their asses. Yeah, I really should have remembered Reggie's pretty much a mini despot with black belt in rabbit-fu or something, cause dear God. That was ugly.

To help bunny bonding, you intro them on neutral territory. I figured that I'd combine that with a free show for the neighbors and put the pen in the front lawn, got inside with the gloriously malleable Mr. W in my lap and got my bottle ready. When they met, Reggie immediately tried to establish dominance over the easy going Mr W, which went badly, as you can expect. The problem is, Waffles is pretty freaking laid back, compared to my warren. He pretty much could have had Reggie on the ground with some serious rabbit-fu and sheer weight, but he just couldn't be bothered, and it shows he's not used to other rabbits that he didn't know immediately that the only way to deal with Reggie is abject submision or kicking his ass.

Mr Waffles wandered off and held off all attmepts at bonding or giving up, which argues that Waffles really needs to rethink his strategy, cause if he thinks this is over, yeah, this can't end well. This unfortunately set off a warren coup, with Sloppy and Bryante both thinking they could escape their shackles of bondage and Reggie re-established his place in the pecking order by thoroughly cowing them into submission. One might think three differnt times would be unnecessary, but this is Reggie, who believes in overkill. The other two, thwarted in their attempt to disrupt the status quo, went after Mr Waffles, who looked between me and them blankly, with absolutely no clue what the fuck was going on, just that he had to keep swiping them away. It was funny when I wasn't holding a spray bottle in their faces like a gun and threatening to dampen their asses if they didn't cut it out.

And let me tell you, it did not help when my son and his best freind collapsed outside the pen laughing at me holding a bottle like an automatic weapon on four animals that weigh about six pounds total between them all.

There was a final bid for freedom by Bryante and Sloppy with an unfortuate Waffles caught in the middle of the power play, and then rabbits were all around me and running, with Reggie sitting on top of his green castle and making terrible proclamations against his subjects before totally putting them on their knees. It was inspiring. In that way that megalomaniacs sometimes are. I came out of it unscarred, but that's because I'm not stupid. Yes, Reggie, you are king, you are despot, you are whatever you want, just keep those claws off my bare skin, kay? We all get it.

It pretty much stayed that way, with Waffles up behind my back and looking at everyone with disdain and me with incredulous amazement, wondering why I put him in with the psychos. Waffles, my friend, get used to it. You join the crazies or they eat you.

First day of rabbit bonding. Yes, this went well. Will keep you updated on the dramatic continuation of Reggie's reign of terror, because he totally remembers Bryante and Sloppy's coup and is not amused. I forsee much restriction of getting to the good carrots or getting to jump from the top of the green castle.

I--did this thing? Which we will discuss another day, when I'm far, far less ashamed of myself. But.

His name is--oh God, I can't believe I'm writing this--Mr. Waffles, he's a Lion-head, apricot, and he might eventually like me. He's also, compared to the rest of the Seperis Warren, huge.

Seriously. I'm just--not going there. But yes, where there were three rabbits there are now four. Pictures forthcoming--I have them on my computer, but I dont' have an editing program, so I'll look for one tomorrow and try to get decent cuts. He *sat in my lap*. I cant' say he liked me but he sat in my lap and I have no new scars! This is indeed celebration time.

musesfool's Meme

I have no idea where she got it, but it looked cool and so, there you have it.

Ten Things I've Learned About Writing (The Lazy Remix): A Completely Impractical Guide to How Jenn Functions

1.) There's no such thing as a stupid idea. Ever. We prove that *every day*.

2.) Love what you create. Love that you can create it at all. It's you, your word processing program and/or notebook, pen/keyboard, and a universe to explore. It can be great or it can suck. But it's yours and you *made* it.

3.) It's fun. Wallow in it. Revel in it. Take it for drinks and molest it if that's what it takes, but never forget that it's writing, and it's art, and it's the best high you will ever have.

4.) Take incredibly stupid chances. Style, pov, narrative voice, hell, *verb tense*, plot point, characterization, whatever. Go crazy. Say you'll write a story without the letter e. I dare you. You might fail a lot--hell, you *will* fail a lot. Don't give a shit. Do it anyway.

5.) Spellcheck will always be your best friend. So not kidding.

6.) Write once about a character you hate sympathetically. Then kill them in the next story to make up for it. We call that therapy. Helps. Or at least, it's really fun to try, don't you think?

7.) Ignore the thick skin thing on critique. Take it personally. Cry to your best friend online about it. Hate the critic for as long as it takes for your ego to unbruise. Apply chocolate and porn. Compose a scathing reply. Then DELETE IT and move on. Trust me. This works.

8.) You will never write the perfect story, no matter what you do. But sometimes, you'll get it *right*. That's better.

9.) Call them muses. Say you hear voices. Tell everyone about your conversational stuffed animals that tell you what to write. Talk about your process like a relgious experience. Because sometimes, it is. And it's a lot more fun that way, don't you think?

10.) There are people better than you, whatever. There are many who are *so much worse*. Seriously. Go read them when you get discouraged. It helps.

Now this set.

Here are the things I never forget.

When I'm online, I remember; two messageboards I wish I'd never seen, ten hate threads I'd give almost anything to forget, one nightmarish mailing list thread I will neve forgive, more pure negativity that I can count, every fucking *second* of my last three months in X-Men, and the chick who taught me how to hate someone so much that I would flame her off the internet if I had the chance. The friends I lost. The betas I lost. These are the things that taught me what my ethics had to be and how thick a skin I had to create.

I never stop hearing my worst critics. No one does. They are there with every word I write, every story I post, every time I open an email, every time I read feedback. I will never stop hearing these things: my tense choice sucks, my characterization sucks, my plotlines suck, my style sucks, my tone sucks, some English term I dont' even know what the hell it *means* sucks. I write badly, I can't write at all, I should stop, I should go terrorize another fandom, I should stop writing.

I haven't stopped. You won't, either. That is the only thing I've learned that's worth knowing.

Things At Work

Okay, you see I have not much to do by the fact I'm livejournaling and answring comments in a timely fashion, which by itself is kind of disturbing. But. Today is moving day, where I switched cubicles and brought sandwiches for everyone to snack on to ease them into the fact that they are now stuck in what appears ot be *stalls* in a room that has some creepy resemblance to a death chamber.

I am just cool like that.

Rabbits

Are all boys. Yes. My rabbits, who indulge in activities that many a Baptist minister would preach against, are in fact, all boys. Very very gay rabbit boys.

Okay, see, the thing is, on Friday, I took them to the vet, right before I went on a bloodthirsty spree across Atlantis. It was their first check-up, see if they had any problems, and also, assure I in fact had two boys and a girl. Right now, my hands look like an emo teenager who cuts herself from all the holding down and whatnot, but by God, they were checked. And so one at a time, the truth was revealed--my rabbits, who--I can't even really describe what I have seen them do when they believe themselves unobserved, but wow, *huh*--engage in carnality, are all very not straight, and I have this queasy feeling that somehow, someone from the Christian Right is going to show up and tell me that I am an unfit rabbit mother for turning my rabbits gay.

Or I could just believe what actual science says about animals and sexuality and how rabbits bond. I'm so not kidding. This is apparently their *bonding*.

Okay, humans are way too complicated, I've decided. I could totally get behind spending my entire life being groomed and cuddled and told how pretty my lop ears were. And eating four kinds of lettuce and one kind of vegetable every day becuase my owner was paranoid about proper rabbit digestion.

But wait, there's more.

The vet thing came out, however, with a fabulous moving moment of actual human/rabbit love, in which my rabbits figured I was the lesser evil and not only submitted to cuddling, but voluntarily allowed themselves to be picked up and cuddled. Oh bliss. You cat and dog owners with your openly loving, affectionate animals? Pah. I can have grudging rabbit tolerance! AND I LIKE IT.

Life bliss.

Also, they actually come to the edge of the cage now to look for me. They don't like it when I touch them, but if I sit very still inside, they will put their tiny paws on my knee and stare up at me with huge rabbit eyes. I'm pretty sure they're actually double checking to see if I am secreting bananas on my person, but I prefer to think we are bonding in the traditional way of man and rabbit, and not in the traditional way of rabbit and rabbit, and hey, did you know that there are worse things than Nifty?

There's the pet porn archive.

Please, don't ask. Just google if you have to know, but for everyone's sanity, try not to click. I made that mistake googling rabbits and pellets, and I'm pretty much wishing I could die now. Thank you for your patience while I try to find a decent spork.

So svmadelyn was like, is the package there yet?--for a week. Or perhaps two.

It worried me. Perhaps it was her mention of things definitely not being alive in it. And how many times she said this. So. Many. Times.

But after two weeks, it is here. It is--and yes, I'm being serious--she sent me Thumper. Thumper is a rare cactus rabbit, found only in the incredibly weird minds of Madelyn and Pru, with white and pink felt ears. He's fine, green and liberated from bubble paper, sitting on the kitchen counter. I gave him water. He did not reject me. Five seconds after we met and he's already way ahead of Reggie.

I have been sent cookies and brownies and DVDs and seasons of Smallville and oh my God, she stuffed Supernatual in this latest one--candy and music and stuffed bears and if I whine, more chocolate. I can honestly state I have never, ever received a cactus.

This is *so cool*. I'm putting Thumper on my desk at work.

*hugs to Madelyn and Pru* Thanks, chicas.

I wish I could confidently state that me and the bunnies are coming to that place of mutual respect and mutual adoration, but we're pretty much stuck in me adoring and them tolerating. Which is far more than I had before, but considering a lot of the toleration revolves around the existence of banana? Hmm.

Anyway, rabbit personalities.

Rabbits? Aren't subtle. The one thing that keeps being emphasized to me is that unlike cats and dogs, rabbits are the universe's dinner. And a real difference in behavior comes from the fact I'm used to living with other predators or omnivores, and rabbits are both prey and exclusively herbivore. Adjusting to the fact I *have* to be on the floor with them if I don't want them to see me as The Great Red Hawk Swooping Down to Eat Us Alive and adjusting to the fact that I will, in fact, have to make myself part of the warren, which means, yes, laying there and letting the little bastards trim my hair, well, okay.

But seriously, try this sometime.

Lay out in the rabbit playpen. I'm five ten, it's about five feet diameter, big fun, cramped knees. Apparently, I was in Reggie's way during his rapid runs of the edges of the cage. Now progress--he doesn't stop when he sees my head in his way! Problem--seriously, he does not stop when he sees my head in his way. Which leads to a view of a rabbit's stomach perilously close to my eyes.

And wow, were those claws brushing my corneas?

Reggie's the most active of the three. Black Netherland Dwarf, about two pounds maybe three, very streamlined and flexible with short fur. Very, very graceful, too, even when clumsy. He's constantly curious and pretty fearless, and intelligent as hell. This week I got a cardboard box and built a small rabbit house out of it; two ground floor doors, an upper window (this is not a big box, but they're not big rabbits), and a skylight. Afterward, using the pieces of cardboard, I built a ledge over the front door inside for them to jump on to use the skylight and stand on to survey their domain (my life). Reggie was the first interested in it and explored it thoroughly--it turns out that the space inside is exactly large enough for three small rabbits to curl up together around the ledge supports. Reggie's a natural athlete. He uses the box as intended--for chewinng, for occasionally, and I have no idea how he does this, lifting and pushing over, and for running up and down. Of the three, Reggie responds to me most and is willing to climb all over me--this includes an unfortunate incident where I was on my hands and knees attempting to demonstrate where droppings go nad he foudn my back a marvelous place to play. For far longer than my knees will ever, ever forgive me for.

Baby steps. We are getting there.

Bryante, the Holland Lop #1, is the largest and fattest rabbit. He (she?) came on the hefty side, and I dont' want to use Reggie as a standard for a different breed of rabbit, so maybe this is just large babyfat. Bryante's kind of a--hmm. Asshole seems harsh, yet weirdly appropriate. He's pretty lazy, likes laying around, and has huge back legs. He's also fairly mellow, but extremely elitist. My lack of fur has pretty much sealed the fact I'm a lesser lifeform. You're most likely to see Bryante either lounging in the castle or lounging in the cardboard house or lounging in plain view. Basically, lounging. He occassionally accepts petting, since he's pretty sure he's the best thing to ever come out of Holland, but it's very much with the feeling that he is doing you a huge favor. Which he pretty much is. I take my cuddling anywhere I can get it.

Sloppy, the Holland Lop #2 is the weirdest. Ultra-paranoid, jittery, most of his energy is burned out in a state of low grade tension. Despite being a lop, he has ears that lift almost fully up and spend a lot of time at half-mast, and I can't even begin to describe how cute this is. They're also fairly good emotional indicators. He let me pet him today for the first time voluntarily, and even though he left quickly, it was with a lot less horror and disgust than normal. He somehow feels like the smallest of the three, though I can't prove it, and a lot of that is attitude. By which I mean, this rabbit is either eating or hiding. There is very little in-between. But he's *interesting*, and each of them is emerging with very distinct personalities.

Still, the cutest thing ever is to see all three curled up in the carboard house like a big mass of black and grey and brown fur. You know, when I peer into the window and feel like a peeping Tom. *sighs*

Yeah. That is my life.

So, what I have learned:

1.) If your fingers smell like carrot or banana? They assume they *are* carrots or bananas. Just keep that in mind.
2.) Your body is a wonderland to a rabbit. No, really. They will climb it, claw it, pee on it, drop on it, and be completely offended if you so much as twitch. See Speedracer Reggie above. See Jenn laying completly still in shock as Speedracer Reggie jumps her head multiple times. Dear God.
3.) They really, really don't like being held. I mean, really.
4.) Banana is the best. Stuff. Ever. Freaking rabbit crack.
5.) The first step in litter training is admitting that none of this is going to happen until they're good and ready, so just bring a towel, wear old clothes, and hope that they don't think your hair is a likely spot.
6.) Spend ten minutes absolutely hating yourself for buying rabbit toys when appparently, a cardboard box from the shed is the rabbit equivalent of a Playstation 2. Then promise yourself that you won't buy more toys. It's a total lie, you will. But still.
7.) If you keep going to www.ferretstore.com and resenting the fact that no one makes rabbit clothes--think for a minute. Rabbit clothes. You can't get the little bastards to stop marking you as territory. You really think you'll be able to get them into a sweater?

And for the sappy ending.

Reggie does this thing now where when he sees me reaching to pet him, if he wants it, he drops all the way to the floor, stretches his head out and lays his ears back, eyes going huge and liquid. It's revoltingly manipulative and will cause me throw out my back leaning over him at an awkward angle to gently rub his head, his jaw, his ears, and the back of his neck and length of his spine.

Sometimes, aside from Child's Antics, that is really the best part of my day.

Oh, and to remind everyone that yes, I do still have Child and didn't trade him for rabbit cages or anything--apparently on this years' TAKS reading, he scored something called Junior Achievement, which apparently means that he only missed one or zero on the test. My kid raises a bearded dragon and says things to me like this:

Him: *sniffling into paper towel at door of my room* So I have allergies?
Me: Yep.
Him: A place of darkness and despair, huh?
Me: *laughs hard enough to cry*

God, I love this kid.

There was a really terrifying moment while talking to svmadelyn, sharing bunny stories, where it suddenly hit me--this is the entirety of my current conversational skills! I am one of those people. I have, in fact, become the crazy rabbit lady. Woman. Fangirl. Oh God, I am a rabbit fangirl.

Let's just list this out.

1.) Physically incapable of leaving a pet store without a new rabbit treat and/or toy.
2.) Angsting over vegetable combinations longer than it takes the rabbits to eat them.
3.) Obsessive house rabbit website reading.
4.) Sudden, inexplicable desire to build a small rabbit mansion out of Home Depot items. Like, say, wood. And nails. And hinges.

For those who don't get the absolute terror of this--many have read of me and dissecting the TV, the butterknife and the VCR, and the way I managed to install a DVD writer into Brian. Do any of you really, really think seeming me with a hammer can end any other way than with an ER visit and a cast?

Right.

The biggest issue is the food. Pellets! Evil! Pellets! Good! Lettuce! Evil! Lettuce! Good! Clover! Poison! Clover! Delicious! Never feed your rabbit bananas! Only buy hay from stables! YOU ARE KILLING YOUR FURRY FRIEND YOU ANTI-RABBIT WHORE.

Okay, they didn't say that, but by God, they implied. So I took them off pellets, then read at the official houserabbit website that they should have unlimited supplies and panicked, then there was alfalfa angst, and romaine-lettuce salads only, and frankly, the rabbits eat better than I do. I'm also picking up a wide collection of bunny claw scars, one of which is showing a case of mild infection. First vet appointment for Reggie the Netherlands Dwarf (I want to say Neanderthal *so much*), Bryante the Holland Lop, and Sloppy the Holland Lop (renamed by Sister Who Technically Owns But I Care For) are at teh end of the month. I am not looking forward to this in an epic way, but I do have a rabbit magazine (first joke gets you stepped on, I swear) and have highlighted relevant chapters to discuss.

And the less said about Bryante's hind leg nail clipping the better. Seriously. I'm hyperventilating over my rabbit's pain and terror while my mother stares at me blankly while trying to trance him and asking me if I need medical intervention. The paper bag did nicely.

And so half my flist doesn't defriend me into disgust--you advertised as fannish and now you are Twenty-Four Seven Rabbit!--a snippet from Teacher's Pet 8, still in production on my hard drive. And by production, I mean, it's sitting there, mocking me. This was originally written for svmadelyn, and--yeah, I'm not even going to try to commentary on this one. I'll just--be over here.

I can honestly state, however, that when I started? This is not where I ever expected to be.

( snippet for teacher's pet 9 )

Are we allowed to have a day where we can do nothing but lay in bed and sulk with our mock-mocha and houseshoes? Cause I am totally in that place. I have these sixteen year old girl not invited to the party feelings, I feel neglected and tragic and unwanted, and I keep catching myself writing in rhyme about my transcendental pain. This can only end in too much eyeliner and a dip into blank verse, and no one wants that.

Houseshoes. God, I have fallen. They are pink.

My weekend trauma seemed destined not to occur until I was dragged to the Herpeteon of Maximum Stress to get--surprise!--more crickets to pour down the gullet of the Freaking Bearded Lizard, who is showing signs of really, really liking me way too much. And yes, the entire desensitization thing is working in a big way, as now I no longer have a blood pressure spike walking in, but save it until I see the giant ball pythons, the strange yellowish thing wrapped around a branch, the three (three! THREE!) cornsnakes, the yellow rat snake, the Christ I am going to pass out baby boa constrictor and oh my God in heaven is this happening to me the fucking Anaconda.

Anaconda.

Overheard was a nice couple talking to one of the people working there about their problems feedign their snake. In which a large guinea pig every twenty days wasnt' enough adn they might have to upgrade to rabbits, and oh, hi, this is me, *twitching* six feet away.

Seriously. Twitching.

Oh my God there was an Anaconda in that store. In a little snake tub! AN ANACONDA THAT I SAW ON TV KILLS YOU SO VERY FAST IS SITTING RIGHT THERE LIKE A NORMAL ANIMAL! Also, tiny turtles that you cna't buy unless it's for educational or government study and what is up with that?

OH MY GOD A BOA CONSTRICTOR AND AN ANACONDA.

Due to failing blood pressure (and a very real possibility of me just breaking down right there and crying hysterically for my mommy to come and get me), I began to walk over to look at the rats--apparently the things that one feeds (oh my God a *guinea pig a month*?) snakes and soothe myself in mammalian happiness, when half-way across, my mother glued herself to my side, grabbed my elbow, jerked my head around and made me stare very very hard at all the pretty furry mammals.

Me: ...Mom?
Mom: Just--look! Rats!

(Mom? Hates rats. A lot.)

Me: Uhh--
Mom: Hamsters! *manhandles me toward the cages* Aren't they nice? Look! A hedgehog! I like hedgehogs!

(Mom does not like hedgehogs. I doubt before this second, she knew they existed.)

Me: .....

So I was suspicious.

When we were halfway to the Ferrets of Maxium Mammalian Zen and the Guinea Pigs of Inner Tranquility, and I looked back, the aisle I had been standing inches from was filled with people, and as I was collecting my two dollars of medium size crickets and watching in mute horror as a large ball python uncoiled itself to try and climb out to kill me (so not kidding), Mom explained that a few inches from my elbow, the little group in the aisle had had an actual snake out and were passing it around and she thought it would probably look bad if I screamed and died right there on the spot. It would please Reggie the Homicidal Rabbit too much. Also, my life insurance just isn't all that great.

...so now I own two zebra finches.

Well, Mom does. I kind of--*waves hand*--forced her to pick two, got their supplies, said, hey, present for you! And left filled with bird zen.

...okay, the pattern here seems to be, I will buy warm blooded animals when reptiles scare me. Herpeteon has a Flemish Giant, a rabbit that looks like a tragic love affair between a hyena and a slowly dying, radiation mutated koala bear (seriously here, this is the ugliest furry animal I have ever seen) and I have a horrible, horrible feeling that when they add another ball python or something I'm going to walk out clutching it and promising it love and let it, too, eat my hair and fake love for yogurt covered tropical fruit snacks.

This, my friends, is a clear case of mammalian panic. Kind of like heterosexual panic, except it's sadder and involves credit card maxing.

I am going to go steal my sister's forgotten box of Valentine chocolate and wallow. If you want me, I will be over there, listening to Alanis Morissette.

So--is fandom still adverse to songfic? I could totally write John to this.

...you are all right now emailing anyone you think has my phone number to call and stage an intervention, aren't you?

Apparently, it is not all fun and fur when owning a rabbit. After bribing him with a new bed, a carrot shaped chew toy, and a wooden structure that looks suspiciously like something Child played with as an infant, Reginald the Rabbit deigned to look at me directly before wandering off.

Rabbits are moody.

This is what I have learned:

1.) Do not pick up Reginald. Those claws are not decorative, and they find bare skin like a laser guided missile. He will also leap suicidally from your arms onto any avaiable surface. Yes. I understand now.

2.) Do not willy-nilly pet Reginald. He will sometimes, if you are good and the moon is blue, sit still in your general vicinity long enough to allow you to gently pet his head for a very brief time. He reserves the right, however, to unexpectedly get up and wander off. At a disturbingly fast run. The story of the tortise and the hare now makes some epic sense. Some people might call it *teleportation*.

3.) Do not try to bribe Reginald with bananas--aka Rabbit Heroin. He will eat them out of your hand, but will leave you the second they are gone. You are not buying his love. You are not going to be his dealer that will trade pets for forbidden foods.

4.) You can sit in one stationary place and he will crawl over to you and sniff/rub/mark you with scent, and sometimes, even let you look at him, as a gift for being so still. You would think this would be a good thing, except rabbits also leave scent with droppings. Thank you, Reginald, for that bit of trauma on my back and my lap. No, really. It means so much.

5.) Reginald can teleport. No, really. No, seriously.

6.) See number four, scent markers, and how very much he wants to mark all of the den and dining room.

7.) My rabbit does not love me. I am reduced to reading up on rabbit psychology and rabbit behavior. On *multiple websites*. I am reduced to reading the psychology of a freaking rabbit. Reginald apparently is showing a lot of behavior associatd with, say, deep and powerful loathing, mixed with pity. I am pitied by my rabbit.

8.) The lizard likes me. The scary reptile that I have to feed live crickets likes me. Dearest God. Is this a huge cosmic joke?

For information, because nothing is more fascinating than listening to other people talk about their pets: Reginald is a Netherlands dwarf, about eight weeks old, dusty black, highly intelligent, emotionally manipulative, and capable of making me chase him around the room for attention for two hours while Child and Junior the Freaking Bearded Dragon watch in amusement.

I have been whipped by a rabbit. Somehow, this seems almost inevitable.