My family has a lot of inside jokes. "Whelmed" is one of them. Basically, if you aren't really OVERwhelmed, but are still coping with challenge, you're "whelmed."
On Friday, I was overwhelmed. Today, I'm just whelmed. See, I spent last week moving. Specifically, I spent it moving in with GB, my beau. And I'm not done yet. This is one of those moves where I had to specifically hold every little tiny hair clip, paper scrap, old T-shirt, etc, and decide if it was something I NEEDED TO KEEP. Then I had to look at it again and decide (if I'm not keeping it) HOW to get rid of it most effectively and responsibly (if I'm keeping it) whether it goes in storage or into the limited space of GB's 1-bedroom, no-living room apartment.
Plus there are two teenage cats with NO PARENTAL GUIDANCE living in parts of the house, and there's a hard-headed old alpha dog who MUST HERD CATS. So it's been a bit of a challenge carving out ways for MY cat to transition into the space. As it is, the cats are kept separate for now, but every time my kitty gets off the bed, the dog walks around a half-step behind her and looms with intent to play. She is not amused. Nor is she willing to offer up her butt for daily doggy inspection. The dog is very worried. Not only is he the only one in the household NOT allowed on the bed, but he hasn't gotten to sniff the cat's butt yet today.
The other two hellcats? A little after midnight they tried to jump from my computer keyboard across to the one 5x5 inch empty space on the top of my shelf unit. And knocked everything else off the top of the shelf in the process. Loudly. And if I ever CATCH them (this is not exactly likely-- they are very fast), they will LEARN not to mess with mama. sigh...
The good news is that GB fixed me a yummy breakfast yesterday morning, even tho it wasn't Sunday yet. And he's been very patient with all the boxes and stuff that hasn't found a home yet. Also, nothing broke when the hellcats rearranged my desk and shelf after midnight last night. And I have 25 pounds of fresh kittylitter in the passenger seat of my car. This is a very good thing. Especially since it's still in its litter bag, and I'll be able to bring it into the house later this morning.
And, can I tell you, for all the times I've gotten internet service, not once has it been simple to connect my Macintosh to the internet. There has always been a special fee or a special website that I had to visit and get special instructions. But last night? GB plugged in my Mac, plugged the other end to the router, and VOILA! I had internet.
Oh, happy day!
Ok. Have to go. Mobbed by two hellcats and a very concerned hard-headed old alpha dog. For all the immediate challenges, I can't help believing that this year is going to be a great improvement on 2009. It was such a relief for last year to END! So-- here's to a year that is merely whelming, and not overly so. With a lot of happiness and success mixed in.
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Sunday, January 3
Saturday, December 19
Seasonal Sustenance
I feel so lucky to be dating a man who actually asks ME to go Christmas shopping with HIM. And who is secure enough (and loves his niece enough) to spend a whole 20 minutes in the pink-and-girly plastic-toys-with-hair aisle at a large and busy store on a Friday Night while we agonize over which MyLittlePony is the right one to give a well-loved four-year-old. And then he bought her two.
Also, there are three cats snoozing on my bed right now. Mostly because I turned the heater on in my room, and cats like to be warm. The grey boys are all curled up together in a ball on one end, and Abbigale rests in majesty on her heated pet-pad with the flannel pillowcase on it (washable) at the other end. And there is a bit of half-hearted eyes-closed paw-licking going on, which is the very best kind, except when they take turns cleaning each other's faces.
AND I think I've nearly gotten my monthly expenses for the new year down to something that one might actually be able to pay with a part-time or lower-wage job. It gives me options. And hope. And if I DO get a job that actually pays me what I'm worth-- then I'll be able to pay off all those darn debts THAT MUCH FASTER!! Which is a very exciting possibility.
Why is it that Christmas has become a time of death-gripping our concentration on money, of all things?! I find that appalling. I also recently found my "just-in-case" box of little gifts I picked up here and there over the past three years because I thought somebody might like them. And that box is saving my bacon this Christmas. YAY for being so excited about giving that I randomly buy maybe someone would like this gifts, and then store them until a time when I have no money and lots of people who need to know I love them. YAY!!! (and if you don't get a little gifty from me this year, know I still love you anyway...)
And the best news of the season? When I move in with GB, I'll get to bring most of my kitchen gear with me. And he'll treat it with the same careful respect he treats HIS stuff. I can't wait to have access to my kitchen gear again!! YAY!
And finally? I'm in the midst of the second step of the three-step process one goes through to make their book ready for publication. THE SECOND STEP, PEOPLE. As soon as I've gotten a solid 50 pages-- the first 50 pages-- ready to go, I can start applying for agents again. AND EVEN EXPECT TO GET ONE. It's going to be so awesome to finally see this book in print.
Well, 2009 was the Year of Integration. I wonder what 2010 will bring. I hope it's the year I get solid in my career. That'd be nice. Or maybe it'll be the year of being Centered and Balanced. Or the year of fruitful beginnings? I like fruit. Especially apples and dried bananas.
Seasonal Sustenance. What's in YOUR stocking this year??
Also, there are three cats snoozing on my bed right now. Mostly because I turned the heater on in my room, and cats like to be warm. The grey boys are all curled up together in a ball on one end, and Abbigale rests in majesty on her heated pet-pad with the flannel pillowcase on it (washable) at the other end. And there is a bit of half-hearted eyes-closed paw-licking going on, which is the very best kind, except when they take turns cleaning each other's faces.
AND I think I've nearly gotten my monthly expenses for the new year down to something that one might actually be able to pay with a part-time or lower-wage job. It gives me options. And hope. And if I DO get a job that actually pays me what I'm worth-- then I'll be able to pay off all those darn debts THAT MUCH FASTER!! Which is a very exciting possibility.
Why is it that Christmas has become a time of death-gripping our concentration on money, of all things?! I find that appalling. I also recently found my "just-in-case" box of little gifts I picked up here and there over the past three years because I thought somebody might like them. And that box is saving my bacon this Christmas. YAY for being so excited about giving that I randomly buy maybe someone would like this gifts, and then store them until a time when I have no money and lots of people who need to know I love them. YAY!!! (and if you don't get a little gifty from me this year, know I still love you anyway...)
And the best news of the season? When I move in with GB, I'll get to bring most of my kitchen gear with me. And he'll treat it with the same careful respect he treats HIS stuff. I can't wait to have access to my kitchen gear again!! YAY!
And finally? I'm in the midst of the second step of the three-step process one goes through to make their book ready for publication. THE SECOND STEP, PEOPLE. As soon as I've gotten a solid 50 pages-- the first 50 pages-- ready to go, I can start applying for agents again. AND EVEN EXPECT TO GET ONE. It's going to be so awesome to finally see this book in print.
Well, 2009 was the Year of Integration. I wonder what 2010 will bring. I hope it's the year I get solid in my career. That'd be nice. Or maybe it'll be the year of being Centered and Balanced. Or the year of fruitful beginnings? I like fruit. Especially apples and dried bananas.
Seasonal Sustenance. What's in YOUR stocking this year??
Saturday, December 12
Jobberwhacky
So I'm applying for jobs. And after applying for jobs on and off non-stop over the past oh... FOUR YEARS... I'm kinda burned out on the whole job application thing.
But there's this guy whose specialty is helping folks get their careers going, and he has an awesome website that should give me some great tips to make me more successful this time around. And there's this job that just came open and sounds really perfect-- It's for a Communications Consultant at a local Community College. I'm so good at communicating, it's fugging AWESOME. And the application (all fifteen plus pages of it, including the short paragraph answers to each of eight different "describe this about your experience and training" questions) is due on Monday. Today is Saturday.
So I really need to get going on this. I want a job that keeps me excited and challenged, and that pays an actual living wage. I keep putting off applying for the housecleaning jobs because somehow, I really want a job that pays more than $10 an hour. Maybe my ego is getting in the way of my actually finding a job and working it again... but you know? I have a Master's Degree. And half of another Master's Degree. And I just came off six months of being the Executive Coordinator for a three-prong work project. Successfully. I deserve a high-paying high-responsibility job. I'd do well in a job like that, even.
Mostly, though, I know how hard it is to force myself out of bed every morning when I'm getting up for a job I don't like. And how hard it is to do a quality job on any daily tasks that I know your random stranger off the street could do just as well.
(insert brief pause and complete loss of mental track HERE when I am called to find housemate's keys, since I was the last one to see them-- when I pulled them from the outside door lock upon my return home this afternoon)
In other news, GB and I are discussing the logistics of moving in together. The most complicated bits seem to be internet access for yet another computer, and the fact that his housemate has two troublemaking teenage girl kitties, and I have one crochety declawed matronly girl kitty. And if we confine Abbigale strictly to his bedroom where they are not allowed, how will we keep her cat food away from the dog, while still making sure SHE can reach it, since she has arthritis and can't do a lot of jumping-- and the dog is rather tall. I think we'll figure out the whole computer thing. After all, GB used to set up cable systems for a living.
And, in the meantime, wish me luck on the job front. Again.
But there's this guy whose specialty is helping folks get their careers going, and he has an awesome website that should give me some great tips to make me more successful this time around. And there's this job that just came open and sounds really perfect-- It's for a Communications Consultant at a local Community College. I'm so good at communicating, it's fugging AWESOME. And the application (all fifteen plus pages of it, including the short paragraph answers to each of eight different "describe this about your experience and training" questions) is due on Monday. Today is Saturday.
So I really need to get going on this. I want a job that keeps me excited and challenged, and that pays an actual living wage. I keep putting off applying for the housecleaning jobs because somehow, I really want a job that pays more than $10 an hour. Maybe my ego is getting in the way of my actually finding a job and working it again... but you know? I have a Master's Degree. And half of another Master's Degree. And I just came off six months of being the Executive Coordinator for a three-prong work project. Successfully. I deserve a high-paying high-responsibility job. I'd do well in a job like that, even.
Mostly, though, I know how hard it is to force myself out of bed every morning when I'm getting up for a job I don't like. And how hard it is to do a quality job on any daily tasks that I know your random stranger off the street could do just as well.
(insert brief pause and complete loss of mental track HERE when I am called to find housemate's keys, since I was the last one to see them-- when I pulled them from the outside door lock upon my return home this afternoon)
In other news, GB and I are discussing the logistics of moving in together. The most complicated bits seem to be internet access for yet another computer, and the fact that his housemate has two troublemaking teenage girl kitties, and I have one crochety declawed matronly girl kitty. And if we confine Abbigale strictly to his bedroom where they are not allowed, how will we keep her cat food away from the dog, while still making sure SHE can reach it, since she has arthritis and can't do a lot of jumping-- and the dog is rather tall. I think we'll figure out the whole computer thing. After all, GB used to set up cable systems for a living.
And, in the meantime, wish me luck on the job front. Again.
Sunday, December 6
Purity Made Simple
I have a huge box of expensive face soap from Nordstrom. It's been sitting in my "extra toiletries" container for a year now, mostly because as soon as I invested in the 32-oz bottle, the darn soap stopped working on my acne. But I spent a lot of time and money making sure I had a great face soap, so I really don't want to throw it out. Even though I can't use it. Of course, these things are cyclical. I might be able to use it in another month or two. You never know.
I'm having similar experiences with many parts of my life just now. For example, as soon as I announced that I actually had full time employment with the Foundation/Farm... they ran out of money to pay me. But I spent a lot of time, energy, and gas money making sure the Foundation and Farm were as functional as I could make them, and investing myself in the visions and goals they espoused. So even though they can't pay me, I'm having a hard time letting go. And you never know-- they might be able to pay me again in a few months...
The face soap says "We come into this world with all the right instincts... and the world at large is truly beautiful. It is at this time we feel most blessed." To return to this natural state of instinctual well-being, the soap insists that "we must begin with the most basic step of all, the daily ritual of cleaning."
So here I am. Going through everything I own and figuring out what is dirty or just taking up space and energy without giving me any bliss in return. Cleaning up my life, a little bit at a time. I'm also job-hunting... again... and figuring out where I'll live come January. Because I can't afford the rent where I'm living now-- even if I do get another job. I have to use the bulk of my money paying off all the debts I racked up while I failed to make ends meet over the past four years. So a huge part of my process is cleaning up and simplifying my finances. Seeing a debt counselor. Talking about bangkruptcy. Finding ways to pay the people who can't wait.
The blessing that keeps showing up in my life is my friends. I feel so supported and loved. Over and over again, as my situation bounces up and down over and over again. It's amazing how many truly awesome people I know. And I don't think I'd have understood that (or had the same list of friends) four years ago when I thought the world was going to be my oyster.
The books have been the toughest thing to winnow down. And I know I'm not done yet. The first thing I did was decide I can only afford the space for one bookshelf right now. So all the books I'm going to keep with me, and all the things that sit on a surface and take up space, have to fit on that one bookshelf.
As I weighed the value of each book, and the space it fills in my life vs the space available on that one bookshelf, I realized that I don't re-read quite as many books as I like to think I do. Mostly, I think of many of these books as old friends, and it makes me feel good to see them sitting on the shelf because I found them so useful at one time. A bit like my face soap, really. So I keep them around just in case things change and I have a use for them again.
But at this point, the universe has hit me over the head hard enough that I not only suspect, but I KNOW that I have got to slim down and severely limit all the superfluous drains on my time, energy, and space. All the things that make me feel stuck or overburdened when it comes time to pick up and go yet again. I will probably rent a storage room for the things I know I will never be able to replace-- like the bed frame my parents slept in for 30 years, the bookshelf my dad made for me, and the boxes of books that I will actually consult occasionally, but don't need to lug from spare bedroom to spare bedroom over the next six months. I will probably sell or dump a lot of my extra toiletries-- things like that darn 32 ounces of soap that have been sitting around for the past year without ever actually being useful.
As part of the plan (while also applying for jobs daily), I'm going to consolidate everything into my room in preparation for the next big move. I'd like to know exactly what I own-- and right now there are boxes I haven't had the opportunity to open in over two years. It's a strange space to be in, knowing that if I had a reliable job and my own tiny apartment, I already own everything I'd need to be happy there... And finally admitting that just I don't have that, and may not have that for a while longer. Having to ask myself which of those beloved-but-currently-useless items are worth the cost (financial and energetic) of keeping.
I've come to realize that there are a few specific things that really contribute to my sense of contentment in a given living situation. One of those things is having and using my own kitchen gear. Another is having a workspace/desk that nobody else messes with. And being able to trust that my cat is safe, comfortable, and content whether I'm home watching out for her during the day or not. As I begin to condense both my living space and my finances, I also realize that there are two support systems that I need to KNOW I can always pay for-- my cat, and my cell phone. Abbigale cannot be replaced by other people's cats-- not the way I can use the computer in the library (which would still suck), or eat at a friend's table from time to time.
So here we are. Simplifying. Cleaning up old messes. Going back to basics. Realizing that while I prefer contact lenses, my glasses work just fine. Learning that "food stamps" are now referred to as the "SNAP" program. And they give you a credit card instead of a coupon book. Stocking up on rice and lentils because they are cheap and filling, and toilet paper because you can't buy that with the SNAP card. The times they are a-changing. I wonder how much money I wasted on that Nordstrom soap...
I'm having similar experiences with many parts of my life just now. For example, as soon as I announced that I actually had full time employment with the Foundation/Farm... they ran out of money to pay me. But I spent a lot of time, energy, and gas money making sure the Foundation and Farm were as functional as I could make them, and investing myself in the visions and goals they espoused. So even though they can't pay me, I'm having a hard time letting go. And you never know-- they might be able to pay me again in a few months...
The face soap says "We come into this world with all the right instincts... and the world at large is truly beautiful. It is at this time we feel most blessed." To return to this natural state of instinctual well-being, the soap insists that "we must begin with the most basic step of all, the daily ritual of cleaning."
So here I am. Going through everything I own and figuring out what is dirty or just taking up space and energy without giving me any bliss in return. Cleaning up my life, a little bit at a time. I'm also job-hunting... again... and figuring out where I'll live come January. Because I can't afford the rent where I'm living now-- even if I do get another job. I have to use the bulk of my money paying off all the debts I racked up while I failed to make ends meet over the past four years. So a huge part of my process is cleaning up and simplifying my finances. Seeing a debt counselor. Talking about bangkruptcy. Finding ways to pay the people who can't wait.
The blessing that keeps showing up in my life is my friends. I feel so supported and loved. Over and over again, as my situation bounces up and down over and over again. It's amazing how many truly awesome people I know. And I don't think I'd have understood that (or had the same list of friends) four years ago when I thought the world was going to be my oyster.
The books have been the toughest thing to winnow down. And I know I'm not done yet. The first thing I did was decide I can only afford the space for one bookshelf right now. So all the books I'm going to keep with me, and all the things that sit on a surface and take up space, have to fit on that one bookshelf.
As I weighed the value of each book, and the space it fills in my life vs the space available on that one bookshelf, I realized that I don't re-read quite as many books as I like to think I do. Mostly, I think of many of these books as old friends, and it makes me feel good to see them sitting on the shelf because I found them so useful at one time. A bit like my face soap, really. So I keep them around just in case things change and I have a use for them again.
But at this point, the universe has hit me over the head hard enough that I not only suspect, but I KNOW that I have got to slim down and severely limit all the superfluous drains on my time, energy, and space. All the things that make me feel stuck or overburdened when it comes time to pick up and go yet again. I will probably rent a storage room for the things I know I will never be able to replace-- like the bed frame my parents slept in for 30 years, the bookshelf my dad made for me, and the boxes of books that I will actually consult occasionally, but don't need to lug from spare bedroom to spare bedroom over the next six months. I will probably sell or dump a lot of my extra toiletries-- things like that darn 32 ounces of soap that have been sitting around for the past year without ever actually being useful.
As part of the plan (while also applying for jobs daily), I'm going to consolidate everything into my room in preparation for the next big move. I'd like to know exactly what I own-- and right now there are boxes I haven't had the opportunity to open in over two years. It's a strange space to be in, knowing that if I had a reliable job and my own tiny apartment, I already own everything I'd need to be happy there... And finally admitting that just I don't have that, and may not have that for a while longer. Having to ask myself which of those beloved-but-currently-useless items are worth the cost (financial and energetic) of keeping.
I've come to realize that there are a few specific things that really contribute to my sense of contentment in a given living situation. One of those things is having and using my own kitchen gear. Another is having a workspace/desk that nobody else messes with. And being able to trust that my cat is safe, comfortable, and content whether I'm home watching out for her during the day or not. As I begin to condense both my living space and my finances, I also realize that there are two support systems that I need to KNOW I can always pay for-- my cat, and my cell phone. Abbigale cannot be replaced by other people's cats-- not the way I can use the computer in the library (which would still suck), or eat at a friend's table from time to time.
So here we are. Simplifying. Cleaning up old messes. Going back to basics. Realizing that while I prefer contact lenses, my glasses work just fine. Learning that "food stamps" are now referred to as the "SNAP" program. And they give you a credit card instead of a coupon book. Stocking up on rice and lentils because they are cheap and filling, and toilet paper because you can't buy that with the SNAP card. The times they are a-changing. I wonder how much money I wasted on that Nordstrom soap...
Thursday, January 29
Addicticism
So talk about your roller coasters!
They finally force-fed my kitty at the vet's right before I came to see her at the end of the day. Then they sent me (and her!!!) home with a bunch of kitty opiate oral liquid pain-killers, and some pepcid. And orders to call with updates, and especially to keep track of her food intake. Of which there wasn't any.
She finally daned to use her litter box for the first time around 8am this morning. I've never been so excited about my cat's peeing habits before, let me tell you. And when I got out another dose of the pain meds, she ran over to me so I could give it to her. RAN OVER TO ME. FOR MEDICINE.
I think she's addicted. Seriously. Of course, being a tortie, that didn't mean she'd actually let me GIVE her the medicine-- she just let herself be caught so I could pry her mouth open, shove the gunk in, clamp her jaw shut, and stroke her throat while she tried to bite off her own tongue. Sigh.
So I was hopeful. Until the Vet called. The final test came back, the CDC (whatever the heck that is, it costs a hundred dollars) and it turns out her white blood cell count is horribly low. So We made an appointment to take her back into the doctor's for another test. This one was to see if she had either feline leukemia or kitty AIDS. Those being the most likely reasons for a low white blood cell count, apparently.
The drama of library conferences has NOTHING on this, folks.
But luckily, I had a massage scheduled (in trade for other work, so neither of us had to come up with cash, thank goodness!) for this morning. So I went ahead and had that done. Unluckily, I realized when my masseuse was a few minutes late that I wasn't going to make it to the vet on time, so I had to reschedule that by a half-hour. Luckily, the noon appointment time was still available. And my cat was still fairly stogned and pliant when I got home to put her in the cat carrier.
Apparently, she was also much calmer about getting her blood drawn this time around. And it only took ten minutes to get the test results back. She is evil illness-free, as far as we can tell. Luckily, it is NEITHER feline leukemia NOR kitty HIV. Unluckily, we still don't know what it IS. I have strict instructions from my vet (who also owns a tortie) to call her with updates.
And LUCKILY, I have a very wonderful update to report. As soon as we got home, she got out of the cat carrier, wandered over to the wet food that has been sitting hopefully in my room for the past few hours, and licked it a few times before wandering back to her blanket in front of the space heater. FOOD!!! She ate a bite of FOOD!!! That's more than she's eaten of her own volition in three days! WAHHOOOO!!!!
And I have finally got some hope back that she'll recover from this insane trip of hers.
Thanks for all your good thoughts, everyone. We both needed them for a while. Maybe we still do. But at the moment, Abbigale is curled up on my bed in the sun pretending that her little fore-arm isn't shaved and listening carefully, just in case I venture over to the pain medicine again. Because, as I said, she REALLY LIKES that pain medicine.
So, basically, nearly a thousand dollars I didn't have later, the only thing we know for sure is that she had some really painful gas, stopped eating, got really dehydrated, and is now hooked on pain killers. Not necessarily in that order. ...sigh.
They finally force-fed my kitty at the vet's right before I came to see her at the end of the day. Then they sent me (and her!!!) home with a bunch of kitty opiate oral liquid pain-killers, and some pepcid. And orders to call with updates, and especially to keep track of her food intake. Of which there wasn't any.
She finally daned to use her litter box for the first time around 8am this morning. I've never been so excited about my cat's peeing habits before, let me tell you. And when I got out another dose of the pain meds, she ran over to me so I could give it to her. RAN OVER TO ME. FOR MEDICINE.
I think she's addicted. Seriously. Of course, being a tortie, that didn't mean she'd actually let me GIVE her the medicine-- she just let herself be caught so I could pry her mouth open, shove the gunk in, clamp her jaw shut, and stroke her throat while she tried to bite off her own tongue. Sigh.
So I was hopeful. Until the Vet called. The final test came back, the CDC (whatever the heck that is, it costs a hundred dollars) and it turns out her white blood cell count is horribly low. So We made an appointment to take her back into the doctor's for another test. This one was to see if she had either feline leukemia or kitty AIDS. Those being the most likely reasons for a low white blood cell count, apparently.
The drama of library conferences has NOTHING on this, folks.
But luckily, I had a massage scheduled (in trade for other work, so neither of us had to come up with cash, thank goodness!) for this morning. So I went ahead and had that done. Unluckily, I realized when my masseuse was a few minutes late that I wasn't going to make it to the vet on time, so I had to reschedule that by a half-hour. Luckily, the noon appointment time was still available. And my cat was still fairly stogned and pliant when I got home to put her in the cat carrier.
Apparently, she was also much calmer about getting her blood drawn this time around. And it only took ten minutes to get the test results back. She is evil illness-free, as far as we can tell. Luckily, it is NEITHER feline leukemia NOR kitty HIV. Unluckily, we still don't know what it IS. I have strict instructions from my vet (who also owns a tortie) to call her with updates.
And LUCKILY, I have a very wonderful update to report. As soon as we got home, she got out of the cat carrier, wandered over to the wet food that has been sitting hopefully in my room for the past few hours, and licked it a few times before wandering back to her blanket in front of the space heater. FOOD!!! She ate a bite of FOOD!!! That's more than she's eaten of her own volition in three days! WAHHOOOO!!!!
And I have finally got some hope back that she'll recover from this insane trip of hers.
Thanks for all your good thoughts, everyone. We both needed them for a while. Maybe we still do. But at the moment, Abbigale is curled up on my bed in the sun pretending that her little fore-arm isn't shaved and listening carefully, just in case I venture over to the pain medicine again. Because, as I said, she REALLY LIKES that pain medicine.
So, basically, nearly a thousand dollars I didn't have later, the only thing we know for sure is that she had some really painful gas, stopped eating, got really dehydrated, and is now hooked on pain killers. Not necessarily in that order. ...sigh.
Wednesday, January 28
Not Even Funny
My cat is in the Animal Hospital today. They're trying to figure out why she stopped eating and drinking two days ago, why her chest hurts, why she has a build-up of gas, why she's been puking and other grossness for the last 24 hours, at both ends. And how to make it all better.
I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to cope. She is a fixture in my life. She is one of my best friends, and my life-companion. She is only ten years old. And if she needs surgery to remove an obstruction in her bowels, I'm not sure I can pay for it.
I'm trying to figure out how to make my situation go away. How to have a job, or another credit card, so that I could have a hope of paying for this. Or rent. Rent would be nice to be able to pay, too. I'm trying to figure out how I got so desperate financially that I would even consider NOT getting this $800-$2000 surgery for my Abbigale. I'm looking into donations from animal-rescue organizations. I'm looking into my credit card totals to see how bad they really are. I'm looking into payment plans. My vet is looking into some possible other cause for her illness.
I'm trying to cope with my sudden reality that I've already spent $600 on her medical care today, and that I really don't want to wake up without her tomorrow... and that it costs less to put my best friend to sleep than to heal her... but even that would be expensive. I'm really trying to cope with reality, but failing.
Because the reality is that she is my one ability to keep coping with my life. She gives me a reason to get up (even if it's a half-hour earlier than I wanted to get up), and she helps me sleep at night. She loves me unconditionally, and forgives me for being selfish and stupid from time to time. Nobody else does that. How can I weigh her life against something as stupid as two or three months' worth of rent payments.
I have some wonderful wonderful human friends-- and some of them have really been there for me when I've been in tight spots at various times. But believe me-- I've spent more time being content because SHE was content to be with me than I have just happy on my own account. So here it is.
The last few shreds of hope I have are that maybe the problem is something that can actually be fixed without surgery... or that I won the lottery last week and just don't know it yet. Because as much as I need a job, and want the opportunity to earn my way-- I'm going to feel like shit if I get a good-paying job within a few days or weeks of putting her to sleep for lack of funds.
I know that my desires are purely selfish here-- the desire to keep her alive, and the desire not to go into debt to do so. And I've realized, that as much as it's going to hurt-- whatever the outcome-- what I really want is for her to know I love her, and for her not to suffer. Whatever that means, I think I can make my peace with it. Eventually. After the heart-hurt eases a bit, and the empty spot starts to heal. I know I'm never going to fill her spot.
Today, I'm just sitting around waiting for news, researching dead-end financial options and grant moneys for emergency pet care, and crying. At least, after I made the vet appointment last night, she and I had the whole night to lay together and cuddle on the bed. And even though she had to get off the bed to vommit and have diareah about five or six times, she always made her way back up to where she could sleep on my arm, curled into my side.
God, Goddess, please let her live.
I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to cope. She is a fixture in my life. She is one of my best friends, and my life-companion. She is only ten years old. And if she needs surgery to remove an obstruction in her bowels, I'm not sure I can pay for it.
I'm trying to figure out how to make my situation go away. How to have a job, or another credit card, so that I could have a hope of paying for this. Or rent. Rent would be nice to be able to pay, too. I'm trying to figure out how I got so desperate financially that I would even consider NOT getting this $800-$2000 surgery for my Abbigale. I'm looking into donations from animal-rescue organizations. I'm looking into my credit card totals to see how bad they really are. I'm looking into payment plans. My vet is looking into some possible other cause for her illness.
I'm trying to cope with my sudden reality that I've already spent $600 on her medical care today, and that I really don't want to wake up without her tomorrow... and that it costs less to put my best friend to sleep than to heal her... but even that would be expensive. I'm really trying to cope with reality, but failing.
Because the reality is that she is my one ability to keep coping with my life. She gives me a reason to get up (even if it's a half-hour earlier than I wanted to get up), and she helps me sleep at night. She loves me unconditionally, and forgives me for being selfish and stupid from time to time. Nobody else does that. How can I weigh her life against something as stupid as two or three months' worth of rent payments.
I have some wonderful wonderful human friends-- and some of them have really been there for me when I've been in tight spots at various times. But believe me-- I've spent more time being content because SHE was content to be with me than I have just happy on my own account. So here it is.
The last few shreds of hope I have are that maybe the problem is something that can actually be fixed without surgery... or that I won the lottery last week and just don't know it yet. Because as much as I need a job, and want the opportunity to earn my way-- I'm going to feel like shit if I get a good-paying job within a few days or weeks of putting her to sleep for lack of funds.
I know that my desires are purely selfish here-- the desire to keep her alive, and the desire not to go into debt to do so. And I've realized, that as much as it's going to hurt-- whatever the outcome-- what I really want is for her to know I love her, and for her not to suffer. Whatever that means, I think I can make my peace with it. Eventually. After the heart-hurt eases a bit, and the empty spot starts to heal. I know I'm never going to fill her spot.
Today, I'm just sitting around waiting for news, researching dead-end financial options and grant moneys for emergency pet care, and crying. At least, after I made the vet appointment last night, she and I had the whole night to lay together and cuddle on the bed. And even though she had to get off the bed to vommit and have diareah about five or six times, she always made her way back up to where she could sleep on my arm, curled into my side.
God, Goddess, please let her live.
Friday, January 2
Draining
Holy Tamoly, what does that cat EAT?! And SHIGHT I hope she burries it well now that she's done digesting it. That REEKS. Like-- tears to my eyes-- REEKS!!!
Excuse me-- that wasn't how I intended to start this post. It's just a sudden distraction on the road of life here. A sudden smelly kitty distraction that I must now take a few moments to mercifully dispose of. Mercifully for my NOSE.
Well, now. Moving right along.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! It has been an interesting year. Full of self-reflection, self-promotion, and self-denial. I moved (twice), I got snowed in (twice), I integrated myself into someone else's household (twice)... I sense a theme.
I've held workshops, had booths at faires and retreats and festivals, gotten published here and there, and created a loyal client base. I've applied for jobs, I've narrowed my activities, I've tried unsuccessfully to sell my (perfectly great) car and reduce my overall mandatory expenditures. I've been to a lot more friendly get-togethers and outright parties than in the past five years combined. I've enjoyed myself more at each of them than at the most lavish and well-organized military gathering I ever attended.
I've gotten serious about writing my book, too. It's time.
I spent the new year with a new friend. Even had a (friendly) kiss at midnight from someone I respect. Stayed out until nearly 3am. When was the last time THAT happened?! Lots of good conversations, lots of opportunities to grow my network and finally feel that I belong here in town. Reconnected with old friends this year, too, and that felt good in its own way. Old friends are important.
As with each of the past few years, I feel that I've grown and changed SO MUCH over what is really a brief span of time. I've learned so much about who I am, what I'm capable of, and what values/opportunities/realities/activities/ beliefs I really care to pursue or maintain in my life. It's been highly rewarding, and very draining.
More recently, as in last night and continuing through this very moment, the term "draining" refers to what we'd like the basement to do. It's flooded. Check that. It's FLOODING in a seeping run-down-the-walls kind of way. My housemate and I took turns going down to wet-vac the puddle every hour or so all night, to minimize the spread of wet. Thing is, between all that snow and the last two days of heavy rain, there just isn't anyplace in the ground for all that water to GO. After staying up late the morning before, staying up to help until after midnight last night, getting up for my turns at 2am and again at 4am, and getting up this morning to start all over again... I'm tired. You might even say, "drained."
And yet my level of worry/stress has gone down dramatically in the last week. That's good. Nobody wants a heart attack at age 30. I guess I'm really hopeful that the new year, new administration, and new possibilities in my own life will bear fruit that is both sustaining and sustainable. That would be a real gift for all of us. May the new year be full of positive changes, and good luck for all. We need it.
Excuse me-- that wasn't how I intended to start this post. It's just a sudden distraction on the road of life here. A sudden smelly kitty distraction that I must now take a few moments to mercifully dispose of. Mercifully for my NOSE.
Well, now. Moving right along.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! It has been an interesting year. Full of self-reflection, self-promotion, and self-denial. I moved (twice), I got snowed in (twice), I integrated myself into someone else's household (twice)... I sense a theme.
I've held workshops, had booths at faires and retreats and festivals, gotten published here and there, and created a loyal client base. I've applied for jobs, I've narrowed my activities, I've tried unsuccessfully to sell my (perfectly great) car and reduce my overall mandatory expenditures. I've been to a lot more friendly get-togethers and outright parties than in the past five years combined. I've enjoyed myself more at each of them than at the most lavish and well-organized military gathering I ever attended.
I've gotten serious about writing my book, too. It's time.
I spent the new year with a new friend. Even had a (friendly) kiss at midnight from someone I respect. Stayed out until nearly 3am. When was the last time THAT happened?! Lots of good conversations, lots of opportunities to grow my network and finally feel that I belong here in town. Reconnected with old friends this year, too, and that felt good in its own way. Old friends are important.
As with each of the past few years, I feel that I've grown and changed SO MUCH over what is really a brief span of time. I've learned so much about who I am, what I'm capable of, and what values/opportunities/realities/activities/ beliefs I really care to pursue or maintain in my life. It's been highly rewarding, and very draining.
More recently, as in last night and continuing through this very moment, the term "draining" refers to what we'd like the basement to do. It's flooded. Check that. It's FLOODING in a seeping run-down-the-walls kind of way. My housemate and I took turns going down to wet-vac the puddle every hour or so all night, to minimize the spread of wet. Thing is, between all that snow and the last two days of heavy rain, there just isn't anyplace in the ground for all that water to GO. After staying up late the morning before, staying up to help until after midnight last night, getting up for my turns at 2am and again at 4am, and getting up this morning to start all over again... I'm tired. You might even say, "drained."
And yet my level of worry/stress has gone down dramatically in the last week. That's good. Nobody wants a heart attack at age 30. I guess I'm really hopeful that the new year, new administration, and new possibilities in my own life will bear fruit that is both sustaining and sustainable. That would be a real gift for all of us. May the new year be full of positive changes, and good luck for all. We need it.
Thursday, October 23
Glossy
Today, I finally made an appointment with the volunteer business counselors at SCORE (yay free!), and applied for about four writing or researching -intensive jobs in town. It's been quite a day. I have to tell you, I'm frustrated with the online testing idea. It's a great idea, but the kind of people that test well with no context and no actual customer service skills? They aren't necessarily what I'd call a representative sampling of the exceptional customer service and networking crowd, doncha know.
Also, if I have to start over from scratch every time I try to click on something that isn't part of the "acceptable path to success" that they've mapped out one click at a time? They make you start over. Yeah. So the number of clicks seem to be on a golf scoring system-- anything above the proscribed number of clicks counts against you. Also, everything is timed.
I really wanted a moment of Godzilla-ness by the time I ran out of time for being online taking the damn test at the library, and had to log off, after only completing about five of the eight sections of testing for computer skills and speeds and program abilities-- for a CUSTOMER SERVICE JOB!!! And I still don't know who the employer is.
Yeah. In other news, I'm excited to meet with the small business dudes. They are both named David. They are worried that this will confuse me. They don't know anything about my specific "specialty" as they delicately put it, but they are willing to work with me on marketing it. And for all the irony in my blogger-voice, I really do appreciate their willingness to do so. I suspect that working with competent business dudes who are uncomfortable with alternative healing therapies will benefit me in several ways. First, anything THEY like, ANYBODY will like. Second, They'll really know what to avoid mentioning when I go on my quest for sponsorship and micro-loans. Third, they probably have CONNECTIONS.
Thank you, David.
Also, a possible apartment option has opened up near where I already live. And for about the combined price of my storage and current rent payments every month. There's definitely some potential there. AND the person who is moving out is a friend of mine, with cats. And she built them a window-deck for outdoor kitty viewing pleasure. Which she and the landlord will leave up for me, if I end up taking the space. (There is someone else with a one-day head start on the "I want that" process, but move-in isn't until December, and I've got awesome insider connections, so hey.)
Kudos, by the way, to this amazing nutritional booster juice called Ageless Extra. Taken daily, in small doses, it overcomes headcolds in a single leap! It provides boundless youthful energy when you forget to sleep! It slices, dices, and even fills in all the nutritional gaps in ANYBODY's diet-- making your body AND your mind regenerate faster, younger, smarter. (Now with gold body glitter and free tongue-piercing!!)
Okay, I lied about the body glitter. But it really does make a noticeable difference in the elasticity of my health, and my overall daily performance. And I digest it one hella-hundred percent better than any daily multivitamin I've ever tried. Dinner with friends on the nights I need to re-stock my supply is a welcome bonus.
OH-- and I am getting published in a nice little local seasonal newspaper called OpenWays. The issue they tell me I'm in comes out December 1st. Happy Winter, everybody!
....WHEEEEEE.....
Also, if I have to start over from scratch every time I try to click on something that isn't part of the "acceptable path to success" that they've mapped out one click at a time? They make you start over. Yeah. So the number of clicks seem to be on a golf scoring system-- anything above the proscribed number of clicks counts against you. Also, everything is timed.
I really wanted a moment of Godzilla-ness by the time I ran out of time for being online taking the damn test at the library, and had to log off, after only completing about five of the eight sections of testing for computer skills and speeds and program abilities-- for a CUSTOMER SERVICE JOB!!! And I still don't know who the employer is.
Yeah. In other news, I'm excited to meet with the small business dudes. They are both named David. They are worried that this will confuse me. They don't know anything about my specific "specialty" as they delicately put it, but they are willing to work with me on marketing it. And for all the irony in my blogger-voice, I really do appreciate their willingness to do so. I suspect that working with competent business dudes who are uncomfortable with alternative healing therapies will benefit me in several ways. First, anything THEY like, ANYBODY will like. Second, They'll really know what to avoid mentioning when I go on my quest for sponsorship and micro-loans. Third, they probably have CONNECTIONS.
Thank you, David.
Also, a possible apartment option has opened up near where I already live. And for about the combined price of my storage and current rent payments every month. There's definitely some potential there. AND the person who is moving out is a friend of mine, with cats. And she built them a window-deck for outdoor kitty viewing pleasure. Which she and the landlord will leave up for me, if I end up taking the space. (There is someone else with a one-day head start on the "I want that" process, but move-in isn't until December, and I've got awesome insider connections, so hey.)
Kudos, by the way, to this amazing nutritional booster juice called Ageless Extra. Taken daily, in small doses, it overcomes headcolds in a single leap! It provides boundless youthful energy when you forget to sleep! It slices, dices, and even fills in all the nutritional gaps in ANYBODY's diet-- making your body AND your mind regenerate faster, younger, smarter. (Now with gold body glitter and free tongue-piercing!!)
Okay, I lied about the body glitter. But it really does make a noticeable difference in the elasticity of my health, and my overall daily performance. And I digest it one hella-hundred percent better than any daily multivitamin I've ever tried. Dinner with friends on the nights I need to re-stock my supply is a welcome bonus.
OH-- and I am getting published in a nice little local seasonal newspaper called OpenWays. The issue they tell me I'm in comes out December 1st. Happy Winter, everybody!
....WHEEEEEE.....
Friday, September 12
Guiding Cats
Have you seen the Engineer's Guide to Cats?? YOU MUST SEE IT!!!
NOW!!!
In other news, Bubba has discovered a passion for spinach, and I have discovered Bubba's passion for bread. Heretofore, the carbaholism of this particular cat was only darkly eluded to by his owner. Now, it's a startling reality in the form of several missing hunks of plastic, paper, and the french bread underneath. This same cat was responsible for tearing a hole in a camping bag to get at a baggie full of condensed milk a couple of months back.
Then there was Sushi, who had a distinctly vampiric interest in pumpkin pie. We would occasionally find random fang marks in ours, if left out overnight to cool. Abbigale's preference is for paper bags, veggie-dyed ribbon, and inedible plants. In that order.
And-- did I tell you of my discovery that there is an actual life form that looks similar to clams, and whose shells can grow to weigh 50 lbs if they are not harvested first??!! HUMONGOUS GIANT CLAMS!!! RIGHT HERE IN OUR OWN COASTAL WATERS OF AMERICA!!!
Also, my clientelle continues to expand, for which I am extremely grateful. And, just in case I didn't have enough to do with my time, I've started writing out bits of my past life again (the Girlfriend's Guide, etc)... It's an interesting process, and probably more theraputic than anything else. I've even joined a group of other writers who meet fairly regularly to share their latest few pages of writing. They definitely bring much-needed perspective to my experiences. For example, they stopped me in the middle of my reading last week to ascertain whether or not I had made up the word "plebe." No. They actually call them that. And No. I have NO IDEA WHY!! But yes-- now that you point it out-- that really does sound ridiculous.
Speaking of cats and ridiculousness, I woke to an interesting and repetitious noise in my bedroom somewhere after midnight and before dawn. I finally figured out that Abbigale was rolling around on the still-plastic-encased bed pillow I had just purchased at BigLots and left on the floor by my bed; Scaper was scratching his very business-like claws on the cat-scratch-post in my bedroom, and Bubba was eating from the food dish in the corner. Loudly.
I carefully and gently escorted each of them out of the bedroom, one at a fuzzy time, so that I could get a few more hours' sleep before the sun came up. They were NOT pleased with me. But that's okay. Cats are definitely the know-it-alls of the animal kingdom.
NOW!!!
In other news, Bubba has discovered a passion for spinach, and I have discovered Bubba's passion for bread. Heretofore, the carbaholism of this particular cat was only darkly eluded to by his owner. Now, it's a startling reality in the form of several missing hunks of plastic, paper, and the french bread underneath. This same cat was responsible for tearing a hole in a camping bag to get at a baggie full of condensed milk a couple of months back.
Then there was Sushi, who had a distinctly vampiric interest in pumpkin pie. We would occasionally find random fang marks in ours, if left out overnight to cool. Abbigale's preference is for paper bags, veggie-dyed ribbon, and inedible plants. In that order.
And-- did I tell you of my discovery that there is an actual life form that looks similar to clams, and whose shells can grow to weigh 50 lbs if they are not harvested first??!! HUMONGOUS GIANT CLAMS!!! RIGHT HERE IN OUR OWN COASTAL WATERS OF AMERICA!!!
Also, my clientelle continues to expand, for which I am extremely grateful. And, just in case I didn't have enough to do with my time, I've started writing out bits of my past life again (the Girlfriend's Guide, etc)... It's an interesting process, and probably more theraputic than anything else. I've even joined a group of other writers who meet fairly regularly to share their latest few pages of writing. They definitely bring much-needed perspective to my experiences. For example, they stopped me in the middle of my reading last week to ascertain whether or not I had made up the word "plebe." No. They actually call them that. And No. I have NO IDEA WHY!! But yes-- now that you point it out-- that really does sound ridiculous.
Speaking of cats and ridiculousness, I woke to an interesting and repetitious noise in my bedroom somewhere after midnight and before dawn. I finally figured out that Abbigale was rolling around on the still-plastic-encased bed pillow I had just purchased at BigLots and left on the floor by my bed; Scaper was scratching his very business-like claws on the cat-scratch-post in my bedroom, and Bubba was eating from the food dish in the corner. Loudly.
I carefully and gently escorted each of them out of the bedroom, one at a fuzzy time, so that I could get a few more hours' sleep before the sun came up. They were NOT pleased with me. But that's okay. Cats are definitely the know-it-alls of the animal kingdom.
Thursday, July 31
SHHHHH
So I'm reading this book called "Stupid History," and I'm actually enjoying it. Partly, this is because all these weird bits of history that we all remember (like Paul Revere's ride to warn everyone that the British were coming)... is, according to this author guy-- and I did find the book in the nonfiction section of the library-- FALSE!!! There were, apparently, THREE men who rode out to warn everyone that the troops were coming along behind-- but those pesky Brits caught up with them. One man fled back home. One (Revere) got captured and thrown in jail overnight, without ever reporting anything to anyone, and the third man is the guy who actually did get away and ride through the town of Concord, I think it was, and yell warning. For whatever good it did everybody anyway.
The other reason I'm enjoying the book is that each story is about half a page long. And that is about all the attention span I have at the moment. Because, for the last two nights, my house mate has been out of town, and the natives have, as they say, been restless. First, Bubba clawed a hole in the new bag of cat food. Then, they all took turns hissing about who was allowed to be in the bedroom with me and who wasn't. A furry belly slinked past the top of my head at one point in the night, and I heard lots of loud cat-thumping sometime after 4am.
Cat-Thumping, by the way, is what happens when your cat suddenly gets that wild look in her eye, glares at a point up and to the left of your head, and then starts running like an insane and possessed beast up, down, around, across, back, over, around again, up, down, PAUSE... and then careens off to hide under the bed or go lick her butt in the kitchen or something. And while the cat does all this crazy running, her little 11 lbs of fuzz and claws makes about as much noise as a 200 lb man with army boots on-- only faster. Cat-thumping.
So, anyway, I'm a little tired tonight. I'm also prepared. First, I'm going to put Abbigale in the bedroom. Then, I'm going to lavish attention on the little grey monsters until they refuse to be in the same room with me anymore. Then I'm going to brush my teeth, and go to bed. I've also re-potted the cat food and cat treats from their flimsy plastic bags to specially purchased vacuum sealed heavy-duty glass containers. Even tho the containers are see-through, Bubba has walked by them TWICE now, trying to locate the food bag.
HAH! I leer in his general direction!!! And, hopefully, I also get some healthy sleep tonight. I'm really tired. Really.
The other reason I'm enjoying the book is that each story is about half a page long. And that is about all the attention span I have at the moment. Because, for the last two nights, my house mate has been out of town, and the natives have, as they say, been restless. First, Bubba clawed a hole in the new bag of cat food. Then, they all took turns hissing about who was allowed to be in the bedroom with me and who wasn't. A furry belly slinked past the top of my head at one point in the night, and I heard lots of loud cat-thumping sometime after 4am.
Cat-Thumping, by the way, is what happens when your cat suddenly gets that wild look in her eye, glares at a point up and to the left of your head, and then starts running like an insane and possessed beast up, down, around, across, back, over, around again, up, down, PAUSE... and then careens off to hide under the bed or go lick her butt in the kitchen or something. And while the cat does all this crazy running, her little 11 lbs of fuzz and claws makes about as much noise as a 200 lb man with army boots on-- only faster. Cat-thumping.
So, anyway, I'm a little tired tonight. I'm also prepared. First, I'm going to put Abbigale in the bedroom. Then, I'm going to lavish attention on the little grey monsters until they refuse to be in the same room with me anymore. Then I'm going to brush my teeth, and go to bed. I've also re-potted the cat food and cat treats from their flimsy plastic bags to specially purchased vacuum sealed heavy-duty glass containers. Even tho the containers are see-through, Bubba has walked by them TWICE now, trying to locate the food bag.
HAH! I leer in his general direction!!! And, hopefully, I also get some healthy sleep tonight. I'm really tired. Really.
Wednesday, July 30
Why Certainly?
p.s. CatMan proved yet again what a really quality person he is. We had our honest communication about my realization that I'd really like to be his friend... but I don't want to date him. And he was great about it. Really.
The Beginning:
Every once in a while, I get this feeling of certainty. I know that I just need to go here or do this-- and I'll get a very specific and much-desired result. I had that feeling when I decided to buy a CR-V about five years ago. I told my dad we just needed to go to this one town about 45 minutes away, and I'd like to stop in at XYZ Honda. At his insistence, I looked up other Honda dealers in town, and called all over the more local area in search of something good. Finally, dragging his feet and reeking of disbelief, he got into my "trade vehicle" and I drove us down to the XYZ Honda dealership. There were only two parking places in the lot-- and I chose the one next to the blue CR-V. It was for sale. On special. It was about a year old. It was perfect. And I got a really great deal on it. I had no doubts. This was the vehicle I was going to get, and I was going to get it on my terms. That's one example.
I haven't had this feeling often, but often enough to recognize it. An unshakable certainty-- a strength of purpose in my gut and my heart. The feeling has been building over the past day or two. Something good is coming. And I know the job I'm planning to get is right around the corner. What I don't know is if it's one I've already applied for, or one I just saw and need to apply for NOW, or one I'll find in the next few days. Usually, my path is a little clearer than this... or at least, I keep putting one steady foot in front of the other, and I arrive at the right place at the right time.
So that's what I'm going to do. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. I'm going to grab my opportunity with both hands, and awe my interview team with my strength of purpose, calm intelligence, friendly accessibility, and most of all-- they'll realize that I've got a lot more to offer than what they see on paper. I'm a good person to have on your team, and I'll grow into and enhance beyond expectation any position I'm invited to accept. It's coming. I can feel it.
... I'm reminded of that old song "I WAAAANT you to want me. I NEEED you to need me! I'd Loooove you to love me..." Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find a cat-claw-proof container for the new bag of cat food I just bought. Bubba has already made a hole in the bag, and keeps trying to come back for more. The bottom of the bag. The bag that is supposed to keep the cat food fresh, and the smell inside. The one I bought this morning, and haven't opened yet. THAT bag.
The Beginning:
Every once in a while, I get this feeling of certainty. I know that I just need to go here or do this-- and I'll get a very specific and much-desired result. I had that feeling when I decided to buy a CR-V about five years ago. I told my dad we just needed to go to this one town about 45 minutes away, and I'd like to stop in at XYZ Honda. At his insistence, I looked up other Honda dealers in town, and called all over the more local area in search of something good. Finally, dragging his feet and reeking of disbelief, he got into my "trade vehicle" and I drove us down to the XYZ Honda dealership. There were only two parking places in the lot-- and I chose the one next to the blue CR-V. It was for sale. On special. It was about a year old. It was perfect. And I got a really great deal on it. I had no doubts. This was the vehicle I was going to get, and I was going to get it on my terms. That's one example.
I haven't had this feeling often, but often enough to recognize it. An unshakable certainty-- a strength of purpose in my gut and my heart. The feeling has been building over the past day or two. Something good is coming. And I know the job I'm planning to get is right around the corner. What I don't know is if it's one I've already applied for, or one I just saw and need to apply for NOW, or one I'll find in the next few days. Usually, my path is a little clearer than this... or at least, I keep putting one steady foot in front of the other, and I arrive at the right place at the right time.
So that's what I'm going to do. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. I'm going to grab my opportunity with both hands, and awe my interview team with my strength of purpose, calm intelligence, friendly accessibility, and most of all-- they'll realize that I've got a lot more to offer than what they see on paper. I'm a good person to have on your team, and I'll grow into and enhance beyond expectation any position I'm invited to accept. It's coming. I can feel it.
... I'm reminded of that old song "I WAAAANT you to want me. I NEEED you to need me! I'd Loooove you to love me..." Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find a cat-claw-proof container for the new bag of cat food I just bought. Bubba has already made a hole in the bag, and keeps trying to come back for more. The bottom of the bag. The bag that is supposed to keep the cat food fresh, and the smell inside. The one I bought this morning, and haven't opened yet. THAT bag.
Friday, July 25
WHY?!
Umm... I think maybe my cat is allergic to fish. Apparently, this is possible. And I've been trying to figure out why she is puking so much lately... Today, the only extraordinary thing she ate was a piece of tuna. And a few days ago, she had "cat tuna" from my house mate. And a few days before that, it was actual fish bits from a fillet. Also, the cheap treats I got for her have tuna and fish in them, it appears. Huh.
One thing's for sure. I am SICK of cleaning up half-digested cat-vomit. E-yew!
One thing's for sure. I am SICK of cleaning up half-digested cat-vomit. E-yew!
Monday, July 21
3-2-1... CONTACT!
Three cats,
Two litter boxes,
One spot of sun.
...sometimes life is a contact sport...
(And by the way, I finally started that list of dating questions-- it's on the right.)
Two litter boxes,
One spot of sun.
...sometimes life is a contact sport...
(And by the way, I finally started that list of dating questions-- it's on the right.)
Thursday, July 17
What's Your Favorite...
I'd forgotten that there can be this awkward period of "getting to know you" when you make new friends. Especially if you both know there's a possibility that you might be more than friends-- and neither one of you is really sure you're ready for that. I also hadn't realized that the questions I'd have asked in high school might not be quite so appropriate now...
Questions like: What's your favorite color? and Who's your favorite actor? and Which do you prefer-- boxers or briefs? (well, okay, that was college)... Umm...
It's actually a funny thing-- talking on the telephone, trying to find mutual topics of conversation, not sure of each other's verbal patterns so you end up starting to respond before he stops talking-- often enough to feel foolish about it. Some people are just easier to talk with in person, and with others... an hour or two might go by unnoticed while your relationship blooms via the technology that links you. It's a hit-or-miss sort of thing.
The good news is that I've discovered I no longer hold a grudge against everyone who shares the same interests, career, or bone structure as my Ex. I'm really fine with military guys (though that last one was a bit of a flake), and it's okay if you play the occasional video game (just don't play so much that you have to stop yourself from going into the nearest jewelry store because your "supply of pearls is low"). I can even handle men with a predilection for ... well, never mind that one. It's just good to know that I'm (generally speaking, since I'm not perfect) going into any future dating relationships with no preconceived judgments or expectations. It really IS going to be about how things go between me and the man I'm talking to. The ghosts are finally fading away. YAYYYY!!!
So... No Shight, there we were. Having a conversation about cats. His cats. His two female black cats who sound really fun, and have their own playground that has taken over most of the living room floor, and includes several army-issue ponchos because the material actually sheds cat fur. His cats that he picked out of a litter of kittens, and one of whom he has named Morgan, after Morgan le Fae from Arthurian Legends. How F-ing COOL is THAT?!
The things we talked about HINT at awesome things that didn't quite reach the surface. And I'm hooked. I want to find out if those hints are fool's gold or something more precious. And I want to be respectful. But it takes getting to know someone to really understand what "respectful" looks like to them. And I don't know him very well yet. So I'm guessing. I told myself very firmly-- months ago now-- that if I ever DID date somebody ever again, I would NOT play the whole "how long am I supposed to wait before I call back?!" guessing game. No. And now, here I am. Wondering if I can call and tell him about my weekend on Sunday, or if I should wait until later in the week-- give him a chance to call me again. ...and I'm not sure there's any way to avoid hazarding a few guesses. For instance, I guess I should probably stop editing this blog post, and get some sleep.
I can tell right now that I need to create a new label for all the posts that are going to show up about dating, now that I'm actually out there trying to participate in it.
And-- Hey!-- How the hell do you know if a guy is the right age for you anymore?! It was easy when we were all in school together-- either he was in your classes or he wasn't. But now? ...Umm...
While the whole age-range of datability has expanded as I've grown up (at twelve, dating a guy two years older was like REALLY BOLD-- I mean, he's OLD!!!), and I've discovered that I'm now okay with someone ten years older than me, I think, until proven otherwise, on a case-by-case basis, maybe... TWENTY YEARS IS PUSHING IT. But that's me. And if I run into a couple with a greater range in age than what I would accept for myself, I try to make my judgement based on whether there is respect, appreciation, maturity and enjoyment from each person for the other or not-- because those are the only things I know for a fact should exist in every relationship regardless.
Okay. That was a seriously run-on sentence. But it's a valid question. The older we get, the harder it is for me to guess how old we are. And can I just tell you that I was accused of being petite and blonde over the phone today? By a very nice woman who lives in Georgia. She's never seen me before, but I just SOUNDED like a blonde to her. Along these same lines, a friend once shocked me to my toes by telling me that he would describe me as "perky." ME?? ReALLY?? But... I'm so BORING! ... and he gave me that "what planet does your mirror live on, really??" look, so I guess it's true. Me. Perky.
...And I'd forgotten about it, and gone back to thinking of myself as boring and not anything like those fun cheerful bouncy cheerleader types... I mean, really. I'm a librarian, man. ...Until I talked with this woman from Georgia. And then the man with the cats called. I found myself trying not to say "like" quite so often, and not being quite as ...uhh... twinkly and random?... in my responses to his conversation. I didn't want to come across as "young" or "immature" or ... "blonde" somehow... And when I realized what I was doing, I had to laugh at myself. Either he'll like me or he won't. And either I'll like him or I won't.
But pretending to anybody that I don't stand on one foot and sing Christmas carols to myself when I wash dishes is just silly. Because all you have to do is walk into the kitchen while I'm doing dishes, and you realize that this is EXACTLY what I do, people. HONESTLY. And, just as with the whole "perky" thing, I didn't even know I did that until one day my mom came home from work early, walked into the kitchen, and burst out laughing to the point of actual tears.
...sigh...
I don't think I have this hangup in person, however (the one about trying to appear mature), so I'm going to cross my fingers and hope that the next time CatMan calls, he'll be calling to invite me to do something face-to-face. And maybe, if he's nice, I'll even sing him a Christmas carol or two. Like.
Questions like: What's your favorite color? and Who's your favorite actor? and Which do you prefer-- boxers or briefs? (well, okay, that was college)... Umm...
It's actually a funny thing-- talking on the telephone, trying to find mutual topics of conversation, not sure of each other's verbal patterns so you end up starting to respond before he stops talking-- often enough to feel foolish about it. Some people are just easier to talk with in person, and with others... an hour or two might go by unnoticed while your relationship blooms via the technology that links you. It's a hit-or-miss sort of thing.
The good news is that I've discovered I no longer hold a grudge against everyone who shares the same interests, career, or bone structure as my Ex. I'm really fine with military guys (though that last one was a bit of a flake), and it's okay if you play the occasional video game (just don't play so much that you have to stop yourself from going into the nearest jewelry store because your "supply of pearls is low"). I can even handle men with a predilection for ... well, never mind that one. It's just good to know that I'm (generally speaking, since I'm not perfect) going into any future dating relationships with no preconceived judgments or expectations. It really IS going to be about how things go between me and the man I'm talking to. The ghosts are finally fading away. YAYYYY!!!
So... No Shight, there we were. Having a conversation about cats. His cats. His two female black cats who sound really fun, and have their own playground that has taken over most of the living room floor, and includes several army-issue ponchos because the material actually sheds cat fur. His cats that he picked out of a litter of kittens, and one of whom he has named Morgan, after Morgan le Fae from Arthurian Legends. How F-ing COOL is THAT?!
The things we talked about HINT at awesome things that didn't quite reach the surface. And I'm hooked. I want to find out if those hints are fool's gold or something more precious. And I want to be respectful. But it takes getting to know someone to really understand what "respectful" looks like to them. And I don't know him very well yet. So I'm guessing. I told myself very firmly-- months ago now-- that if I ever DID date somebody ever again, I would NOT play the whole "how long am I supposed to wait before I call back?!" guessing game. No. And now, here I am. Wondering if I can call and tell him about my weekend on Sunday, or if I should wait until later in the week-- give him a chance to call me again. ...and I'm not sure there's any way to avoid hazarding a few guesses. For instance, I guess I should probably stop editing this blog post, and get some sleep.
I can tell right now that I need to create a new label for all the posts that are going to show up about dating, now that I'm actually out there trying to participate in it.
And-- Hey!-- How the hell do you know if a guy is the right age for you anymore?! It was easy when we were all in school together-- either he was in your classes or he wasn't. But now? ...Umm...
While the whole age-range of datability has expanded as I've grown up (at twelve, dating a guy two years older was like REALLY BOLD-- I mean, he's OLD!!!), and I've discovered that I'm now okay with someone ten years older than me, I think, until proven otherwise, on a case-by-case basis, maybe... TWENTY YEARS IS PUSHING IT. But that's me. And if I run into a couple with a greater range in age than what I would accept for myself, I try to make my judgement based on whether there is respect, appreciation, maturity and enjoyment from each person for the other or not-- because those are the only things I know for a fact should exist in every relationship regardless.
Okay. That was a seriously run-on sentence. But it's a valid question. The older we get, the harder it is for me to guess how old we are. And can I just tell you that I was accused of being petite and blonde over the phone today? By a very nice woman who lives in Georgia. She's never seen me before, but I just SOUNDED like a blonde to her. Along these same lines, a friend once shocked me to my toes by telling me that he would describe me as "perky." ME?? ReALLY?? But... I'm so BORING! ... and he gave me that "what planet does your mirror live on, really??" look, so I guess it's true. Me. Perky.
...And I'd forgotten about it, and gone back to thinking of myself as boring and not anything like those fun cheerful bouncy cheerleader types... I mean, really. I'm a librarian, man. ...Until I talked with this woman from Georgia. And then the man with the cats called. I found myself trying not to say "like" quite so often, and not being quite as ...uhh... twinkly and random?... in my responses to his conversation. I didn't want to come across as "young" or "immature" or ... "blonde" somehow... And when I realized what I was doing, I had to laugh at myself. Either he'll like me or he won't. And either I'll like him or I won't.
But pretending to anybody that I don't stand on one foot and sing Christmas carols to myself when I wash dishes is just silly. Because all you have to do is walk into the kitchen while I'm doing dishes, and you realize that this is EXACTLY what I do, people. HONESTLY. And, just as with the whole "perky" thing, I didn't even know I did that until one day my mom came home from work early, walked into the kitchen, and burst out laughing to the point of actual tears.
...sigh...
I don't think I have this hangup in person, however (the one about trying to appear mature), so I'm going to cross my fingers and hope that the next time CatMan calls, he'll be calling to invite me to do something face-to-face. And maybe, if he's nice, I'll even sing him a Christmas carol or two. Like.
Friday, May 2
Alarm Bells
I was having a pretty good day. Woke up at 8am. I've been doing this a lot lately, and it occurs to me that maybe I should set my alarm to actually go off around 8am if this trend is going to continue. It goes off at 8:30 right now, just enough time for me to fall back asleep. Not so helpful, really.
Then, I spent a few minutes pacifying the fur ball. I managed to keep her tail out of my cereal at breakfast, and only dribbled yogurt-covered granola on her fur once. I even managed to clean most of it off before she noticed.
And, even better, before I had breakfast, I did a little yoga. I feel good about the yoga, and my sore neck is less likely to digress into a stiff and painful twist of nasty now that I've stretched it out in a healthy and linear fashion. Also, since I'm really trying to incorporate more healthy movements into my day, it felt good to actually spend ten minutes doing yoga for the second day in a row-- without even signing up for someone else to make me do it!
Breakfast was yummy. Strawberry Keifer over nut-and-honey granola (bought in bulk at the store)... And I had an email or two from people I actually wanted to hear from, so that was also nice. One of those emails pointed me to another great job opening to which I really think I'm going to apply. So I visited their website to get more information.
This is a pattern I regularly follow. Track down the original job posting. Read it to make sure I'm at least mostly qualified for the position. Copy the description and application procedure, and paste into a Word document for later review and reference. You know-- later when I actually apply.
Only it didn't work like that this morning.
Copy wouldn't copy, and nothing at all was Pasting.
Shigt!
After much swearing and not a little worry that maybe that "clean up" my dad told me to do to my computer actually hexed the copy/paste functionality... I narrowed down the culprit. Three separate sentences-- in the whole three pages of relevant information --included a specific phrase. And those were the three sentences that could not be copied. So I copied the rest of the document, pasted it, and typed out those three sentences. Grargh.
By now, I was in a really pissy mood. So much for waking up before the alarm, doing yoga, and feeling like I was productive with my morning. ...By the way, I'm sitting cross-legged in my desk chair while I type this, and my cat just jumped off my lap, crouched below my chair, and proceeded to attack my foot as it dangled over the edge of the seat. Huh.
The last two emails I read were from the same person. A good friend of mine. And you know, it just didn't improve my mood any to realize after reading those two emails that I had just agreed to drive an hour out of my way, attend a party I really don't look forward to, and proctor a test... all so I could go for a walk with a friend. I find that I almost prefer to walk alone, without all that hassle, when it comes down to it.
That's when I went into my Bookmarks, and decided to read the latest blog entries for a favorite blogger of mine. And you know, it was a good decision. Because her parents are adopting a Corgi Puppy, and she had posted PHOTOS!!! Now, there are only about three breeds of dog that I've ever really felt I'd want to share my life with-- if I ever chose a dog over a cat at all. Pembroke Welsh Corgis, Great Danes, and Aussie. She's a breed unto herself. Sometimes when I'm thinking of how much I'd love to have an Aussie in my life, I think maybe the third breed is really Basset Hounds... but then I think of all that drooling, and ...well... maybe not.
(Just for the record, I also love the look of French Bulldogs. I mean really-- they have bat ears. What's not to love?! Unfortunately, the only ones I've met have been really snooty, drooly, and a bit too used to the high life to be a desirable pet in my mind.)
So there I was, looking at the cutest pictures ever of a Corgi puppy-- a puppy who'd already found a loving home (the sad "adopt me" pictures depress me horribly for days after I see them)-- and thinking "I WANT ONE OF THOSE!!!" That's when the alarm bells started going off in my head. A dog? Now? Yeah, Right!
I think my cat must have heard me thinking about adopting a dog, too, because there was this sudden flurry of movement on the floor by my chair, and when I looked down, she was rolling around, shoving herself along the floor in a big circle, chasing her tail. She then proceeded to get distracted by: a piece of yarn, a length of basket reed, a plastic bag that crunched nicely, and my toes. Her ears were back the whole time. This is a good sign that I should expect to be attacked, and should not try to do anything that requires concentration-- I WILL be interrupted.
I sat here, watching her antics, thinking to myself "GOOD LORD, my cat is POSeSSED!! I definitely don't need more than one insane pet at a time, thank you very much." That's when she jumped back in my lap and curled up for a nap. sigh.
Then, I spent a few minutes pacifying the fur ball. I managed to keep her tail out of my cereal at breakfast, and only dribbled yogurt-covered granola on her fur once. I even managed to clean most of it off before she noticed.
And, even better, before I had breakfast, I did a little yoga. I feel good about the yoga, and my sore neck is less likely to digress into a stiff and painful twist of nasty now that I've stretched it out in a healthy and linear fashion. Also, since I'm really trying to incorporate more healthy movements into my day, it felt good to actually spend ten minutes doing yoga for the second day in a row-- without even signing up for someone else to make me do it!
Breakfast was yummy. Strawberry Keifer over nut-and-honey granola (bought in bulk at the store)... And I had an email or two from people I actually wanted to hear from, so that was also nice. One of those emails pointed me to another great job opening to which I really think I'm going to apply. So I visited their website to get more information.
This is a pattern I regularly follow. Track down the original job posting. Read it to make sure I'm at least mostly qualified for the position. Copy the description and application procedure, and paste into a Word document for later review and reference. You know-- later when I actually apply.
Only it didn't work like that this morning.
Copy wouldn't copy, and nothing at all was Pasting.
Shigt!
After much swearing and not a little worry that maybe that "clean up" my dad told me to do to my computer actually hexed the copy/paste functionality... I narrowed down the culprit. Three separate sentences-- in the whole three pages of relevant information --included a specific phrase. And those were the three sentences that could not be copied. So I copied the rest of the document, pasted it, and typed out those three sentences. Grargh.
By now, I was in a really pissy mood. So much for waking up before the alarm, doing yoga, and feeling like I was productive with my morning. ...By the way, I'm sitting cross-legged in my desk chair while I type this, and my cat just jumped off my lap, crouched below my chair, and proceeded to attack my foot as it dangled over the edge of the seat. Huh.
The last two emails I read were from the same person. A good friend of mine. And you know, it just didn't improve my mood any to realize after reading those two emails that I had just agreed to drive an hour out of my way, attend a party I really don't look forward to, and proctor a test... all so I could go for a walk with a friend. I find that I almost prefer to walk alone, without all that hassle, when it comes down to it.
That's when I went into my Bookmarks, and decided to read the latest blog entries for a favorite blogger of mine. And you know, it was a good decision. Because her parents are adopting a Corgi Puppy, and she had posted PHOTOS!!! Now, there are only about three breeds of dog that I've ever really felt I'd want to share my life with-- if I ever chose a dog over a cat at all. Pembroke Welsh Corgis, Great Danes, and Aussie. She's a breed unto herself. Sometimes when I'm thinking of how much I'd love to have an Aussie in my life, I think maybe the third breed is really Basset Hounds... but then I think of all that drooling, and ...well... maybe not.
(Just for the record, I also love the look of French Bulldogs. I mean really-- they have bat ears. What's not to love?! Unfortunately, the only ones I've met have been really snooty, drooly, and a bit too used to the high life to be a desirable pet in my mind.)
So there I was, looking at the cutest pictures ever of a Corgi puppy-- a puppy who'd already found a loving home (the sad "adopt me" pictures depress me horribly for days after I see them)-- and thinking "I WANT ONE OF THOSE!!!" That's when the alarm bells started going off in my head. A dog? Now? Yeah, Right!
I think my cat must have heard me thinking about adopting a dog, too, because there was this sudden flurry of movement on the floor by my chair, and when I looked down, she was rolling around, shoving herself along the floor in a big circle, chasing her tail. She then proceeded to get distracted by: a piece of yarn, a length of basket reed, a plastic bag that crunched nicely, and my toes. Her ears were back the whole time. This is a good sign that I should expect to be attacked, and should not try to do anything that requires concentration-- I WILL be interrupted.
I sat here, watching her antics, thinking to myself "GOOD LORD, my cat is POSeSSED!! I definitely don't need more than one insane pet at a time, thank you very much." That's when she jumped back in my lap and curled up for a nap. sigh.
Sunday, April 20
Her New Name
I woke up this morning to the lovely sound of my cat puking her guts out-- repeatedly. At 5am.
Oh Joy!
Since then she has tried to drink the milk out of my cereal when I wasn't looking, walked back and forth over my hands as I typed on the computer (she makes a better door than a window, I have to say), attempted-- yet again-- to knock over the desk lamp with an overabundance of love for the heat the old-style bulb lets out, and finally curled up to purr contentedly in my lap. Which is where she is right now. Getting louder and louder until I finally reach down and pet her-- then the purr is muted again... until I stop. I feel like I'm appeasing a nucleagr reactor or something here.
As a result of this morning, her new name is "Cute Fuzzy Manipulative little Puker." Luckily, she responds well to criticisms. I've only been attacked twice.
Oh Joy!
Since then she has tried to drink the milk out of my cereal when I wasn't looking, walked back and forth over my hands as I typed on the computer (she makes a better door than a window, I have to say), attempted-- yet again-- to knock over the desk lamp with an overabundance of love for the heat the old-style bulb lets out, and finally curled up to purr contentedly in my lap. Which is where she is right now. Getting louder and louder until I finally reach down and pet her-- then the purr is muted again... until I stop. I feel like I'm appeasing a nucleagr reactor or something here.
As a result of this morning, her new name is "Cute Fuzzy Manipulative little Puker." Luckily, she responds well to criticisms. I've only been attacked twice.
Tuesday, April 1
Lost In Place
Okay. I know. I'm a librarian. But, STILL--
It's a little embarrassing to look up from a book and realize that not only is it past my bedtime, but I totally forgot to call my best friend before HER bedtime-- because I was reading a book.
Again.
...scuse me while I explain the concept of sharing the desk chair to my cat...
So yeah. Pretty much, if I pick up a book that I haven't read at least five times before, it's very likely that I won't be able to put the book down again until I've read it. All of it. And, if I've got other deadlines in my day, TOO BAD.
I'm not proud of this, though I must say I've gotten to be a pretty FAST reader over the years... I'm more like... uhh... distressed by it. Especially when the thing I totally failed to remember because I was deep in the middle of-- whatever book I happen to have picked up-- is actually rather important. Like my best friend. Or my other best friend. Or an appointment. Or...
Well, anyway, if you ever catch me walking around with a book I've already read a million times, this is why. I probably have other things I want to accomplish, and can't afford to be so immersed in "what happens NEXT?!" that I forget about them. Just so you know.
And, this is also why I just don't have any new books to talk about when I'm doing something important-- like for the eighteen months I was in school for my Masters Degree. NO NEW BOOKS. HOMEWORK.
...excuse me while I explain to my cat that it isn't a REAL mouse...
Ahem.. where was I?
Oh, right. BOOKS. One of my all-time favorite things to do is curl up in a warm cozy corner with a good book and a yummy snack... for as long as it takes to finish reading the book. And sometimes a series is even worse. Because the first book leaves you hanging--- WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?! So you start reading the NEXT book in the series to find out... and it's often a vicious cycle. Thank goodness for alarm clocks and cats who really feel that it's past my bedtime, and it's time for the stupidity to end.
...excuse me while I explain to my cat that YES-- I really am going to bed now...
It's a little embarrassing to look up from a book and realize that not only is it past my bedtime, but I totally forgot to call my best friend before HER bedtime-- because I was reading a book.
Again.
...scuse me while I explain the concept of sharing the desk chair to my cat...
So yeah. Pretty much, if I pick up a book that I haven't read at least five times before, it's very likely that I won't be able to put the book down again until I've read it. All of it. And, if I've got other deadlines in my day, TOO BAD.
I'm not proud of this, though I must say I've gotten to be a pretty FAST reader over the years... I'm more like... uhh... distressed by it. Especially when the thing I totally failed to remember because I was deep in the middle of-- whatever book I happen to have picked up-- is actually rather important. Like my best friend. Or my other best friend. Or an appointment. Or...
Well, anyway, if you ever catch me walking around with a book I've already read a million times, this is why. I probably have other things I want to accomplish, and can't afford to be so immersed in "what happens NEXT?!" that I forget about them. Just so you know.
And, this is also why I just don't have any new books to talk about when I'm doing something important-- like for the eighteen months I was in school for my Masters Degree. NO NEW BOOKS. HOMEWORK.
...excuse me while I explain to my cat that it isn't a REAL mouse...
Ahem.. where was I?
Oh, right. BOOKS. One of my all-time favorite things to do is curl up in a warm cozy corner with a good book and a yummy snack... for as long as it takes to finish reading the book. And sometimes a series is even worse. Because the first book leaves you hanging--- WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?! So you start reading the NEXT book in the series to find out... and it's often a vicious cycle. Thank goodness for alarm clocks and cats who really feel that it's past my bedtime, and it's time for the stupidity to end.
...excuse me while I explain to my cat that YES-- I really am going to bed now...
Tuesday, January 22
Somehow, I Managed
About the crock pot...
Somehow, I managed to ruin a rather large and expensive crock pot stew. It was basically a bunch of fresh vegetables, a grain, some mushrooms, chicken broth, water, salt, and a bit of garlic. It tastes... bad. Bitter, and somewhat like warm moldy bread smells. If you ever have such a thing in your kitchen. Happens to me all the time.
... uhh... totally distracted by my cat. She is on top of a box (an empty box) that has a handle hole in the top, and puts her a good two feet closer to the dangling branch of one of my hanging plants. She has so far nearly biffed it by trying to reach up to the plant and play with it, by leaning WAAAAAY over the edge of the empty box to observe her domain from this new height, and by reaching one paw as far down INTO THE BOX (through the handle hole) as she possibly could, just to see what she ran into. Last but not least, she just now nearly biffed it by jumping down off the top of the two-foot-tall-but-one-foot-wide empty box. And she loved every little trouble-making minute of it.
I think I need more glee in my life. That sort of "I know I probably shouldn't be doing this but it is SO MUCH FUN!" gleeful feeling, mixed with a healthy dose of dangerous curiosity.
...sigh...
Yet again, I find myself envious of my cat.
Anyway, the lesson I'd like to share with any other hopeless cookers out there is to BELIEVE THE LABEL on the dried shitaki mushrooms. You want to soak them in water for at least 30 minutes, and then put them into DIFFERENT WATER to cook. And, I also suggest putting them in at the very end of the crock pot cycle, with your herbs. Also, if you try to use barley as your grain, put in something really sweet like ginger or sweet potato or something to help things along. And, most important of all, don't put in more than ONE ingredient you don't usually cook with per crock pot challenge. Or follow a tried and true recipe-- someone else's recipe.
This is actually the secret behind my insistence on cooking very simple foods with only a few ingredients. Fewer things can go horribly wrong. Including my spelling of the word "rescipee."
And if I ever catch the guy writing the script for this, I'm inviting him over for one of my "tasty" home-cooked meals, and I'm going to force him to eat seconds. In fact, there are actually two more helpings of this horrible goo sitting in my fridge right now. And I have no idea what to do with them.
Somehow, I managed to ruin a rather large and expensive crock pot stew. It was basically a bunch of fresh vegetables, a grain, some mushrooms, chicken broth, water, salt, and a bit of garlic. It tastes... bad. Bitter, and somewhat like warm moldy bread smells. If you ever have such a thing in your kitchen. Happens to me all the time.
... uhh... totally distracted by my cat. She is on top of a box (an empty box) that has a handle hole in the top, and puts her a good two feet closer to the dangling branch of one of my hanging plants. She has so far nearly biffed it by trying to reach up to the plant and play with it, by leaning WAAAAAY over the edge of the empty box to observe her domain from this new height, and by reaching one paw as far down INTO THE BOX (through the handle hole) as she possibly could, just to see what she ran into. Last but not least, she just now nearly biffed it by jumping down off the top of the two-foot-tall-but-one-foot-wide empty box. And she loved every little trouble-making minute of it.
I think I need more glee in my life. That sort of "I know I probably shouldn't be doing this but it is SO MUCH FUN!" gleeful feeling, mixed with a healthy dose of dangerous curiosity.
...sigh...
Yet again, I find myself envious of my cat.
Anyway, the lesson I'd like to share with any other hopeless cookers out there is to BELIEVE THE LABEL on the dried shitaki mushrooms. You want to soak them in water for at least 30 minutes, and then put them into DIFFERENT WATER to cook. And, I also suggest putting them in at the very end of the crock pot cycle, with your herbs. Also, if you try to use barley as your grain, put in something really sweet like ginger or sweet potato or something to help things along. And, most important of all, don't put in more than ONE ingredient you don't usually cook with per crock pot challenge. Or follow a tried and true recipe-- someone else's recipe.
This is actually the secret behind my insistence on cooking very simple foods with only a few ingredients. Fewer things can go horribly wrong. Including my spelling of the word "rescipee."
And if I ever catch the guy writing the script for this, I'm inviting him over for one of my "tasty" home-cooked meals, and I'm going to force him to eat seconds. In fact, there are actually two more helpings of this horrible goo sitting in my fridge right now. And I have no idea what to do with them.
Wednesday, December 5
Dog Days of Winter
A snapshot of my day:
6am
Mrrrrt? ....Mrrrowwwrrr?
THUMP!
...Mrrrr?
6:45am
Something is staring at me. I can feel it, and it wakes me out of a dead and desperate last half-hour of sleep before the alarm goes off.
...oh. It's my cat. She wasn't sure if I was awake or asleep, so she came over to find out. Guess I'm awake now.
8:10am
Shgit! I turned off the alarm, and actually went back to sleep! With the cat!
9am
I call in to my internship to let them know I'm going to be late. This head cold is really slowing me down, and that extra hour of sleep didn't really help much. I can't call in to the library because it doesn't open until 10am. I email my supervisor. I take an expectorant because my ribs hurt from coughing, and this is supposed to help the coughs do their thing more easily.
10am
Yet another reason to demand truth in advertising. I have not stopped gut-wrenching coughing since I took the dagmn expectorant. I can't see straight to find my keys let alone drive to my internship. Guess I'll be later than I thought. (B-HH-HH-HH-CH-HH-*gasp .... cough-cough... BHHH-TOOOHHHH-HHHH-*gasp... blow nose, feel head pound, wait for next big coughing fit to-- BHH-TOOOHHHH-cough-HHHHH)... I think I just gave myself a nose bleed.
11am
Grab 2 skeins of yarn to return to store, along with receipt. Put cell phone in purse. Put on Volunteer Badge. Grab lunch leftovers. Grab warm coat. Grab list of Practicum Goals from start of semester. Grab cat as she slides out the door. Start driving to internship. Dog in road. Lean black dog with collar and mange. Dog looks both ways, crosses in front of me since I've stopped. Dog gets out of road, I drive on.
11:30am
I arrive at my internship. I finish up a few final projects for various librarians. I get some interview advice. I look over my original goals and see what really happened here...
12:30pm
I leave for another local library branch, where we are having our monthly Youth Services Meeting. I realize that I've forgotten my purse. At home.
3:30pm
My coughing is so bad again that I leave the meeting early. I decide to head home for cough medicine and my purse, and then jet back to the library for the last hour of my internship.
4:15pm
Traffic is bad, too. And there's another dog in the road. Same road. I stop for it. A dalmatian this time, also with a collar (but no mange). This dog is stupid, but nice. It trots down the road in front of me. It stays in my lane. It makes good time. I put on my blinkers and roll along behind it. Someone in a parking lot sees the dog. It's her dog. She comes across the road to get the dog. The dog lets itself get got. I start driving again, and I turn off my blinkers.
4:30pm
I'm not going to make it back for that last hour of my internship, I might as well stay home. (cough, hack, wheeze, moan) Oh, look. Here's my purse. Hanging from it's hook as usual. At home.
...Mrrow?
6am
Mrrrrt? ....Mrrrowwwrrr?
THUMP!
...Mrrrr?
6:45am
Something is staring at me. I can feel it, and it wakes me out of a dead and desperate last half-hour of sleep before the alarm goes off.
...oh. It's my cat. She wasn't sure if I was awake or asleep, so she came over to find out. Guess I'm awake now.
8:10am
Shgit! I turned off the alarm, and actually went back to sleep! With the cat!
9am
I call in to my internship to let them know I'm going to be late. This head cold is really slowing me down, and that extra hour of sleep didn't really help much. I can't call in to the library because it doesn't open until 10am. I email my supervisor. I take an expectorant because my ribs hurt from coughing, and this is supposed to help the coughs do their thing more easily.
10am
Yet another reason to demand truth in advertising. I have not stopped gut-wrenching coughing since I took the dagmn expectorant. I can't see straight to find my keys let alone drive to my internship. Guess I'll be later than I thought. (B-HH-HH-HH-CH-HH-*gasp .... cough-cough... BHHH-TOOOHHHH-HHHH-*gasp... blow nose, feel head pound, wait for next big coughing fit to-- BHH-TOOOHHHH-cough-HHHHH)... I think I just gave myself a nose bleed.
11am
Grab 2 skeins of yarn to return to store, along with receipt. Put cell phone in purse. Put on Volunteer Badge. Grab lunch leftovers. Grab warm coat. Grab list of Practicum Goals from start of semester. Grab cat as she slides out the door. Start driving to internship. Dog in road. Lean black dog with collar and mange. Dog looks both ways, crosses in front of me since I've stopped. Dog gets out of road, I drive on.
11:30am
I arrive at my internship. I finish up a few final projects for various librarians. I get some interview advice. I look over my original goals and see what really happened here...
12:30pm
I leave for another local library branch, where we are having our monthly Youth Services Meeting. I realize that I've forgotten my purse. At home.
3:30pm
My coughing is so bad again that I leave the meeting early. I decide to head home for cough medicine and my purse, and then jet back to the library for the last hour of my internship.
4:15pm
Traffic is bad, too. And there's another dog in the road. Same road. I stop for it. A dalmatian this time, also with a collar (but no mange). This dog is stupid, but nice. It trots down the road in front of me. It stays in my lane. It makes good time. I put on my blinkers and roll along behind it. Someone in a parking lot sees the dog. It's her dog. She comes across the road to get the dog. The dog lets itself get got. I start driving again, and I turn off my blinkers.
4:30pm
I'm not going to make it back for that last hour of my internship, I might as well stay home. (cough, hack, wheeze, moan) Oh, look. Here's my purse. Hanging from it's hook as usual. At home.
...Mrrow?
Monday, December 3
CatTail #347
There I was, sitting at the dining table, reading my favorite comic book and blowing my nose because I have the head cold for hell...
when suddenly, and very quietly, from the direction of the bathroom...
ka-thud.
It sounded strangely like a cupboard door closing. But it's just me and Abbigale tonight. Waiiiit....
My cat must be trying to get into the bathroom cupboard. Again. So I yell a reprimand, and watch the hallway for any nonchalantly emerging kitties. But nobody appears. Sometimes she waits until I actually head toward her to stop whatever it is she KNOWS she isn't supposed to be doing... so I get up from the table.
No dice.
I went down the hall and into the bathroom, stepping carefully in case any guilty kitties tried to flee the crime scene, as they've been known to do. The bathroom was empty. Silent and empty. (Insert shark music here.) So, not being one to give up easily, I opened the first cupboard door I came to. And out popped a kitty. Pmmrrowt? A kitty who had obviously been trying to open the hinged side of the cupboard door for some time with no great success, but was too proud to meow for help.
I really hadn't thought there was ROOM on that particular shelf for a cat, but hey-- I've been wrong before. And she didn't actually knock anything over while she was in there. Actually, I used to barricade that cupboard doors shut with a half-gallon of vinegar, but people kept stubbing their toes and looking at me like I was crazy when they went into the bathroom... They obviously don't know about Abbigale the Intrepid Explorer. But I do. I have photographic evidence of her earlier excavations under the living room rug. And a permanent record of her fangs in the soft wax of a tapered candle that once got in her way. I've occasionally woken to the sound of wind chimes. Inside the house. And thus been called to duty as refiller of dangerously low cat food bowls at 4am-- more than once. So I know that just because I couldn't immediately see evidence of a crime didn't mean one hadn't been perpetrated. Oh no.
A ka-thud in this household, however quiet, is worth a thorough investigation, and probably a good laugh. If it isn't 4am. At 4am, it's only worth throwing a shoe in that general direction and hoping the covers are still warm when you get back under them.
I love my cat. Mostly.
when suddenly, and very quietly, from the direction of the bathroom...
ka-thud.
It sounded strangely like a cupboard door closing. But it's just me and Abbigale tonight. Waiiiit....
My cat must be trying to get into the bathroom cupboard. Again. So I yell a reprimand, and watch the hallway for any nonchalantly emerging kitties. But nobody appears. Sometimes she waits until I actually head toward her to stop whatever it is she KNOWS she isn't supposed to be doing... so I get up from the table.
No dice.
I went down the hall and into the bathroom, stepping carefully in case any guilty kitties tried to flee the crime scene, as they've been known to do. The bathroom was empty. Silent and empty. (Insert shark music here.) So, not being one to give up easily, I opened the first cupboard door I came to. And out popped a kitty. Pmmrrowt? A kitty who had obviously been trying to open the hinged side of the cupboard door for some time with no great success, but was too proud to meow for help.
I really hadn't thought there was ROOM on that particular shelf for a cat, but hey-- I've been wrong before. And she didn't actually knock anything over while she was in there. Actually, I used to barricade that cupboard doors shut with a half-gallon of vinegar, but people kept stubbing their toes and looking at me like I was crazy when they went into the bathroom... They obviously don't know about Abbigale the Intrepid Explorer. But I do. I have photographic evidence of her earlier excavations under the living room rug. And a permanent record of her fangs in the soft wax of a tapered candle that once got in her way. I've occasionally woken to the sound of wind chimes. Inside the house. And thus been called to duty as refiller of dangerously low cat food bowls at 4am-- more than once. So I know that just because I couldn't immediately see evidence of a crime didn't mean one hadn't been perpetrated. Oh no.
A ka-thud in this household, however quiet, is worth a thorough investigation, and probably a good laugh. If it isn't 4am. At 4am, it's only worth throwing a shoe in that general direction and hoping the covers are still warm when you get back under them.
I love my cat. Mostly.
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