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mad_andyOK, so, before I start with the unexpected horrors and near-death experience of my life...
...I'd just like to say well done America! I honestly never thought that I would ever see a non-white president, and I'm pleased as punch to be wrong. And for my friends that are hurt and saddened by the various bans on gay marriage? Well, look at it this way; the lady who refused to give up her bus seat to a white oik is still alive (or was very recently, IIRC) - and from there to here in living memory?
That's impressive.
So hang in there, my friends. Keep fighting, but do it with grace, do it with manners, do it by being there and showing people that there's nothing to be afraid of, because fear of the other is where they're coming from. Live, love, and refuse to be bowed down. And one day they will realise that there is nothing to be afraid of, and we will win.
Right, so now that's off my chest!
So after my last happy post, I bounded upstairs to feed my family of serpents. Shock one: one of the baby corns I bred this year had died. Now, poor old No. 3 had only fed twice since hatching on the 20th of June so it wasn't entirely unexpected. Nevertheless, all of the other non-feeders have begun to come round and s/he had taken a couple of feeds, so I hoped...
(In case you're wondering, I never force feed hatchlings. Some baby animals are just programmed to fail, it seems, and the process is physically difficult and incredibly stressful to the snake. The stress alone can kill them, or they can be so damaged physically that the injuries can kill them. I won't put my animals through that.)
Ground my teeth, put the sad little body aside, fed all the snakes on that side.
Leucy blacks doing well - god they're pretty - as are the white sided bulls. Growing like weeds too. Must get some photos; you guys will be blown away by them. I am every time I look at them, and I see them every day!
Started on the other side, opening boxes, checking snakes and changing water and feeding - shock two:
My female Florida king snake, dead as a fucking doornail. What?! Shit. She'd skipped a couple of feeds and had lost a little weight, but nothing drastic. It's not unusual for young snakes to have little hiccups like this; going to a new home, change of year, all sorts of stuff. You just check and recheck their conditions, put anything right that may have slipped, go down a size of prey and keep trying.
She wasn't dehydrated, she didn't seem to be actually sick... so I thought I had another week or three (at least) before anything medical was called for. Apparently, I was wrong.
I must admit, I stared at her for a while. Then put her aside, cleaned out her box, and carried on with the others. Rattled as hell, getting a bit upset, but everyone else needed feeding.
Ah, but then I hit shock three, and felt bloody horrible. My male albino bull snake had escaped some time ago *cough*, and was recaptured about two weeks ago. (Slay came home from work and turned on the light - at which point the sofa started hissing at him. It's a very well behaved sofa usually, so he knew that there was a good possibility that our gobby little escapee was under it. He was, and was recaptured and put back in his viv.)
Anyway, on his return he'd been a little underweight but in surprisingly good nick; not dehydrated, still bright eyed, alert. All seemed well. He refused the first feed I offered him, which didn't surprise me. Give him a week, as long as he's drinking there's no rush.
He was stiff; rigor hadn't passed and I knew he'd been alive that morning, so I must have just missed him. He could even have died while I was down here typing a cheerful little entry, and that made me feel sick as hell.
I'm very attached to all my snakes. Some more so than others, of course; you couldn't persuade me to part with Zico or Oli for any amount of money, but I feel pretty much like that about all of them. And having been so chuffed at his return so short a time before, it was really, truly horrible to find him dead.
I buried them all together in the garden.
Slay, poor sod, saw how miserable I was, and tried to help. "Now don't blame yourself," he said.
"I'm not," I snapped. "I'm upset. And then I'll get angry, and then I'll blame myself. Give us a bloody chance."
I am trying awfully hard not to beat myself up over this, but it's hard. I feel like a bit of a failure, but I'll get over it. Everyone else is fine, though. If a little irritated by being checked over thoroughly twice a day, or more if I'm passing the bedroom and start to worry.
*Sigh*
Of course, then there was tonight. Quiet-ish day at the shop, last customer was a very chatty lady so I didn't get out until half six. Tired, headachey, still blue over the loss of my babies. Looking forward to getting home.
The A34. A dual carriageway (two lane highway, I guess!) that can be a complete pain in the ass to navigate; usually it's full of very rude drivers and scary lorries and this evening it was thick with both, and pissing with rain to boot. So I picked my way through the chaos, and was approaching a very nasty bit with roadworks - and I think I got caught up in something really rather scary.
So there I am, outside lane. Keeping an eye on everyone, nice gap between me and the car in front, two lorries in the left hand lane but I'm moving a bit quicker than them so I thought I'd stay put. The lights seemed to be a ways behind me, no one up my ass, stay put until there's a nice big gap to move across to the left.
I do not like driving between two lorries, especially in the rain.
All of a sudden - and I mean fast - the guy behind is so close I can't see his headlights properly. OK, thinks I, I'll move over and you can go have your pile up with someone else. And that was where it all got a bit bent out of shape.
See, I looked over my left shoulder and saw only darkness. I know I'm crap at judging distance when all I have to judge by are headlights, so I know that if I look over my shoulder and can't see any headlights that there's a safe gap to move into. I'd have to slow down fairly sharpish to keep a good gap between me and the lorry but hey, that's OK.
So I begin to move, and then in a horrible rush and a blare of horns I realise why I couldn't see lights; the guy who'd almost rear-ended me had swerved sharp left while I was turning my head, and was roaring up my inside. I couldn't see his lights because they were so close to my car that I only saw the swish of movement as a reflection from my own paintwork...
Blare of horn and he was gone. How he missed me I have no idea; it can't have been by much, but he cut me up swerving back across my bow and whoosh, a fade of red lights was he.
I tucked between the lorries and tried to get my heart to slow down. Almost in a multiple pile up in the wet, lorries and cars all in a big burnt-out tangle? Yeah, that gives you quite the adrenaline squirt - did me, anyway.
I don't think it was coincidence that a heartbeat later a police car screamed past, nee-nar, blues and twos and driving almost as bad as the guy who's almost side-swiped me.
*meep*
Got home in one piece (albeit still a little wide-eyed), and thought I'd hop online. Much to my delight I managed a quick conversation with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
arrys_girlie, to whom I haven't spoken to for aeons, it seems!
OK, this entry has taken far too long, so just one thing left to say:
Go buy Terry Pratchett's new book! It's very good. Quite thoughtful. And not Discworld. Let's see JK do so well in her first non-HP outing, hmm?
(I know this isn't his first non-discworld, but you get my point.)
And another last thing! Bruce 'I can do anything, no really' Dickinson has contributed a cookbook. The Vulcan Cookbook can be found here - support the very last of the great V-bombers!
Bruce. A cookbook.
I love that man.
And with that, I'm off to bed. Love you all!
...I'd just like to say well done America! I honestly never thought that I would ever see a non-white president, and I'm pleased as punch to be wrong. And for my friends that are hurt and saddened by the various bans on gay marriage? Well, look at it this way; the lady who refused to give up her bus seat to a white oik is still alive (or was very recently, IIRC) - and from there to here in living memory?
That's impressive.
So hang in there, my friends. Keep fighting, but do it with grace, do it with manners, do it by being there and showing people that there's nothing to be afraid of, because fear of the other is where they're coming from. Live, love, and refuse to be bowed down. And one day they will realise that there is nothing to be afraid of, and we will win.
Right, so now that's off my chest!
So after my last happy post, I bounded upstairs to feed my family of serpents. Shock one: one of the baby corns I bred this year had died. Now, poor old No. 3 had only fed twice since hatching on the 20th of June so it wasn't entirely unexpected. Nevertheless, all of the other non-feeders have begun to come round and s/he had taken a couple of feeds, so I hoped...
(In case you're wondering, I never force feed hatchlings. Some baby animals are just programmed to fail, it seems, and the process is physically difficult and incredibly stressful to the snake. The stress alone can kill them, or they can be so damaged physically that the injuries can kill them. I won't put my animals through that.)
Ground my teeth, put the sad little body aside, fed all the snakes on that side.
Leucy blacks doing well - god they're pretty - as are the white sided bulls. Growing like weeds too. Must get some photos; you guys will be blown away by them. I am every time I look at them, and I see them every day!
Started on the other side, opening boxes, checking snakes and changing water and feeding - shock two:
My female Florida king snake, dead as a fucking doornail. What?! Shit. She'd skipped a couple of feeds and had lost a little weight, but nothing drastic. It's not unusual for young snakes to have little hiccups like this; going to a new home, change of year, all sorts of stuff. You just check and recheck their conditions, put anything right that may have slipped, go down a size of prey and keep trying.
She wasn't dehydrated, she didn't seem to be actually sick... so I thought I had another week or three (at least) before anything medical was called for. Apparently, I was wrong.
I must admit, I stared at her for a while. Then put her aside, cleaned out her box, and carried on with the others. Rattled as hell, getting a bit upset, but everyone else needed feeding.
Ah, but then I hit shock three, and felt bloody horrible. My male albino bull snake had escaped some time ago *cough*, and was recaptured about two weeks ago. (Slay came home from work and turned on the light - at which point the sofa started hissing at him. It's a very well behaved sofa usually, so he knew that there was a good possibility that our gobby little escapee was under it. He was, and was recaptured and put back in his viv.)
Anyway, on his return he'd been a little underweight but in surprisingly good nick; not dehydrated, still bright eyed, alert. All seemed well. He refused the first feed I offered him, which didn't surprise me. Give him a week, as long as he's drinking there's no rush.
He was stiff; rigor hadn't passed and I knew he'd been alive that morning, so I must have just missed him. He could even have died while I was down here typing a cheerful little entry, and that made me feel sick as hell.
I'm very attached to all my snakes. Some more so than others, of course; you couldn't persuade me to part with Zico or Oli for any amount of money, but I feel pretty much like that about all of them. And having been so chuffed at his return so short a time before, it was really, truly horrible to find him dead.
I buried them all together in the garden.
Slay, poor sod, saw how miserable I was, and tried to help. "Now don't blame yourself," he said.
"I'm not," I snapped. "I'm upset. And then I'll get angry, and then I'll blame myself. Give us a bloody chance."
I am trying awfully hard not to beat myself up over this, but it's hard. I feel like a bit of a failure, but I'll get over it. Everyone else is fine, though. If a little irritated by being checked over thoroughly twice a day, or more if I'm passing the bedroom and start to worry.
*Sigh*
Of course, then there was tonight. Quiet-ish day at the shop, last customer was a very chatty lady so I didn't get out until half six. Tired, headachey, still blue over the loss of my babies. Looking forward to getting home.
The A34. A dual carriageway (two lane highway, I guess!) that can be a complete pain in the ass to navigate; usually it's full of very rude drivers and scary lorries and this evening it was thick with both, and pissing with rain to boot. So I picked my way through the chaos, and was approaching a very nasty bit with roadworks - and I think I got caught up in something really rather scary.
So there I am, outside lane. Keeping an eye on everyone, nice gap between me and the car in front, two lorries in the left hand lane but I'm moving a bit quicker than them so I thought I'd stay put. The lights seemed to be a ways behind me, no one up my ass, stay put until there's a nice big gap to move across to the left.
I do not like driving between two lorries, especially in the rain.
All of a sudden - and I mean fast - the guy behind is so close I can't see his headlights properly. OK, thinks I, I'll move over and you can go have your pile up with someone else. And that was where it all got a bit bent out of shape.
See, I looked over my left shoulder and saw only darkness. I know I'm crap at judging distance when all I have to judge by are headlights, so I know that if I look over my shoulder and can't see any headlights that there's a safe gap to move into. I'd have to slow down fairly sharpish to keep a good gap between me and the lorry but hey, that's OK.
So I begin to move, and then in a horrible rush and a blare of horns I realise why I couldn't see lights; the guy who'd almost rear-ended me had swerved sharp left while I was turning my head, and was roaring up my inside. I couldn't see his lights because they were so close to my car that I only saw the swish of movement as a reflection from my own paintwork...
Blare of horn and he was gone. How he missed me I have no idea; it can't have been by much, but he cut me up swerving back across my bow and whoosh, a fade of red lights was he.
I tucked between the lorries and tried to get my heart to slow down. Almost in a multiple pile up in the wet, lorries and cars all in a big burnt-out tangle? Yeah, that gives you quite the adrenaline squirt - did me, anyway.
I don't think it was coincidence that a heartbeat later a police car screamed past, nee-nar, blues and twos and driving almost as bad as the guy who's almost side-swiped me.
*meep*
Got home in one piece (albeit still a little wide-eyed), and thought I'd hop online. Much to my delight I managed a quick conversation with
arrys_girlie, to whom I haven't spoken to for aeons, it seems!OK, this entry has taken far too long, so just one thing left to say:
Go buy Terry Pratchett's new book! It's very good. Quite thoughtful. And not Discworld. Let's see JK do so well in her first non-HP outing, hmm?
(I know this isn't his first non-discworld, but you get my point.)
And another last thing! Bruce 'I can do anything, no really' Dickinson has contributed a cookbook. The Vulcan Cookbook can be found here - support the very last of the great V-bombers!
Bruce. A cookbook.
I love that man.
And with that, I'm off to bed. Love you all!
