One of whom was born in Bohemia. Which means (1) my last name is actually Czech, instead of German as I'd thought all my life, and (2) I'm 1/8 Czech, which I never knew before.

Bohemia was populated by both ethnic Germans and ethnic Slavs for hundreds of years, so place of birth may not be a very useful indicator in this case. The "protection" of the German population was Hitler's excuse for annexing Bohemia.

Happy Birthday, Sean!

Lee - that would mean I'd have to get dressed. Brownies = nummy!

Inside pants are acceptable.

Waves to fellow 1/8 Czech.

I was in a graduate English class once, and somehow the conversation turned to ancestry. I said my ancestors had emigrated from Bohemia. One woman gave kind of a gasp and said, "You meen Bohemia is a real country? I thought Arthur Conan Doyle made it up."

eta: Happy birthday, Sean. I hope this is a much better year for you and S.

Lee, if I had the car I'd be down there in a flash. Mmmmmmm, brownies.

ION, Matilda has been asleep for two hours. Which is craxy. Time to wake her up and keep her wide, wide awake for the entire rest of the day, or tonight will be a fresh hell I can't now even imagine. At least I got the hallway swept, the bibs and all my tights and nursing bras washed, the dishes and kitchen counter done, and the grottiest of the dried-on crusts of filth on the kitchen floor all scrubbed off. I now feel fully justified in fucking off for the rest of the day.

Er, waking the baby and then fucking off outside, in the fresh air, where she'll have to stay awake.

Lee, if I had the car I'd be down there in a flash. Mmmmmmm, brownies.

I could meet you in Millbrae.

Oh Tommy, what a terrible position to be in.

My one thought is the vet who spoke with you about his declining tempertature, etc. I know you can't speak with anyone at the specialty clinic, but is there any way you could speak with her? You seem to trust her judgment.

I could meet you in Millbrae.

But you have no infant seat in your car, alas.

I love her so much at this adorable size, but things are going to be rather more flexible when she's all walky and talky and big enough to only need a nice easily portable booster seat.

So I called again - Senor has shown no improvement; his prognosis is "poor." I didn't get a chance to talk to the vet herself. They suggest I come in and talk to her and see Senor.

She's done for the day at 4:00, so I'm heading off to the vet hospital in a few....

Happy Birthday, Sean!

I don't know what I would do were I in your shoes, tommyrot. Does Senor Sock seem to be suffering, now? Would he mind being at a strange vets getting tests done?