Going offline and a little bit of mercury poisoning. . .

So did that catchy title grab your attention?

Just so those of you who worry, won't: no, I did not take a bath in mercury (although imagine how cool that would be--like being the bad guy from Terminator II). Babs and I are totally fine and mercury-free. But I have a story for ya':

We went to the vet yesterday to get some more health certificates so the dogs can fly. I met the sweetest, nicest vet, and I wish he would be our vet for more than the 20 minutes I spent with him.

Let me share with you that going to the vet is NOT Blanco's time to shine.

Yesterday at the vet he managed to:
claw the crap out of me
shimmy out of both of our arms and backflip down off the table to the floor
TWICE
break the thermometer the doc was shoving up his poo-poo

Yeah, I knew when we walked in and I saw the vet holding an old-school GLASS thermometer--the kind with the mercury, yes--that yup, uh-huh, we were going to break that s***.

My DH would say it was a self-fulfilling prophecy; I say it's the voice of experience, but whatever it was, Blanco totally broke the heck out of the thermometer with his wild thrashing. Glass and mercury all over the floor and both dogs were walking around and sniffing. Jeez. The last thing I need is for these world's-most-expensive-dogs to get mercury poisoning. (They really didn't come into contact with anything, but the story is more interesting if I infer that they did.)

So we survived the vet. He repeatedly called Blanco "monkey" and "rapscallion" and if you can imagine a sweet little white-haired Irishman saying this to "Blancs" as he called him, you would just have curled up and died with cuteness. Until they handed you the bill, of course.

Bottom line: it was a success. Blanco didn't bite anyone or even attempt to and Tex managed to do his usual (sit down VERY QUICKLY once the thermometer goes in to try to protect his nether regions) without breaking *another* thermometer up his butt (Tex was my concern originally when I saw the thermometer, by the way).

Thank the Lord for small victories.

Today we ran about a million errands--my DH came with me once he realized how frantic I was. I had to meet some Dept. of Agriculture guy in the city at a building with no name or address--all I knew what that his office was on the third floor and if I walked past the Victoria Hotel (posh) that I had gone too far. This put me over the edge and DH escorted me there. (Actually, very easy to find. I guess my mind is back in the States where there are freakin' ADDRESSES and LABELED BUILDINGS.)

The movers are coming in the morning, so I'm trying to get everything sorted so they can just pack it up and put it on a boat to meet us in the States in a few weeks. Of course, in the past two days I have managed to dirty EVERY SINGLE ITEM OF TUPPERWARE we own. That was loads of fun to wash and dry. By hand, of course.

So enough of my gritching. . .

We are hours away from taking flight from Cork and heading up to Dublin for our remaining few days in Ireland. DH will get to coach/watch his team's football game (shoulder injury so he's not playing); I will hopefully meet up with Beccy (will call you, chica, when we get to town and get settled!). Then Tuesday we drop off the kids-um, dogs-and have a day to ourselves before we fly out.

I don't know what my internet situation will be for the next week or so, so I'll say with confidence that I will be back on the blog NEXT weekend. Or maybe I'll have time and the ganas to post tomorrow. Who knows. . .

I'll see ya' when I see ya', but know that I'm missing ya' for sure!