Stupid Blog. I suddenly feel like I'm back in high school and have just managed to erase an entire term paper.

Life.

The Smashing Pumpkins have seen a reemergence in my car CD player recently. Ke'ano got a kick out of their name as we were driving to school this morning.

Bernardo has to go to the Doctor tomorrow per the request of the county. I'm a little leary about taking him to the referred doctor. I went to see her last winter. Perhaps it was her pajama pants, hooded sweatshirt, lab coat, and leather biker hat that made me question her credentials. Or was it the fact that there was no heat on in the entire office in mid-January while the germ infested waiting room inhabitants sat hacking away sitting on a checkered floor that hadn't been mopped in months. I suppose one can't be too picky when it comes to government subsidized health care, but I often wonder if it isn't better to visit the old man in the farmacia downtown L.A. and get some medical advice from him rather than wait for hours in an alleged physician's office. I've had better health care attention in third world nations than this office.

We had a rather mundane weekend. Drama ensued when Cola, the dwarf hamster, bit it. I discovered him flat as a pancake in the bottom of his cage. Not quite sure how to tell Ke'ano, David took that privilege. Ke'ano wavered between being sad, wanting to die so he could visit Cola with Jesus, and having an all out boyish voyeurism of wanting to play with the dead carcass. After giving Ke'ano a lesson in the decomposition of hamster bodies David was finally able to convince him that he couldn't keep the dead hamster in his bedroom. Ke'ano didn't want to bury the hamster either. His choice? He committed Cola to the depths of our dumpster--sure beats all the painstaking time I used to put into making tombstones for my dead hamsters I had as a kid.

I met up with one of my favorite teachers from college for lunch today. When I told her she looked good she reprimanded me for never telling her that the high wasted, tapered jeans she used to wear went out of style in the early 1990's. (Apparently this is something she just discovered). We had such a great time over Argentinean empenadas. I went with her to a pet store where she bought a lab. She insisted on a female though, saying that she hates the way male dogs pee. It was humorous in the moment. Not sure how that comes across to the random blog reader.