Sometimes I have the rage.

Yesterday it appeared when I realized that we had left behind a bag at the grocery store. It was a bag of the fancy organic shampoos & conditioners & tea tree oil wipes that I love which were HALF-OFF at the regular grocery store because people in Quincy like to wash their hair with chemicals that smell like teenage girl deodorant. I was psyched, cause I was out of conditioner, and the last time I bought shampoo & conditioner I spent more money that I felt was right. It's not that I don't believe in treating myself once in awhile, but I work in a bookstore. I am not made of money. And I spend more money on Kiki's prescription food that I do my own food, so sacrifices must be made, especially with the forthcoming baby.

I went to take a shower before bed last night (at approximately 8:15 pm - I stayed up late since I don't have to work today. Get wild!) and I remembered the conditioner. I went to find the bag. It was nowhere. Trever had put the groceries away the night before. He had no idea, didn't remember seeing it. He checked the car. Twice. It wasn't there. He had been playing video games with headphones on when I realized it was missing, which I think sent the rage into over drive. I was VERY UPSET. I don't want to waste our money. And I couldn't understand how we just lost it. We went through the self checkout. We put all the groceries in the back of the volvo. We just left an entire bag behind? HOW DID WE DO THAT? WHAT THE F U C K? Yup. The rage took over. I was trying to stay calm. Really, I was. In the middle of crying and getting upset, while Trever was looking in the car, I picked up a pair of scissors off the bed from an earlier mending project, and the two clementines that had been in my bag, left over from our morning trip to the movies, in order to clear off the bed so I could get in it. He walked back inside and the look on his face was that sort of why-are-you-upset-it's-not-really-a-big-deal-you-are-acting-like-a-crazy-lady-look which basically just sent me right over the edge. I don't remember what he said next, but I definitely threw a pair of scissors across the kitchen (not AT him, he was in the other room) and threw a clementine at the floor with such force that it exploded. Then I shut myself in the bathroom to cry.

HORMONES ARE SO FUN.

He went back to the store. We must have left the bag behind cause he went to the clearance bin and it was all back in there. I had bought three of the five containers of the tea tree oil wipes, and there they were, right next to the grapefruit & geranium shampoo. I texted him not to rebuy it, out of principle, but he insisted. I told him how I felt he was dismissive of my feelings and he apologized for that. Then I went to bed.

This morning I got up early to feed Kiki. My slipper got stuck on the something on the kitchen floor. A little while later I made coffee. Trever came in to get some and I asked him what spilled on the floor last night. He reminded me that it was the clementine I smashed. He didn't clean it up last night, was going to do it today, but I felt embarrassed and stupid so I cleaned it up right away.

The point of all of this rambling? A reminder to myself, I suppose. I don't need to freak out and throw scissors and smash fruit. I don't want to be that person. I have a very distinct memory of my mother slamming kitchen cabinet doors so hard that plates fell on the floor. If I need to vent or feel the rage, I can alway sit in the car with the windows rolled up and scream at the top of my lungs. Or I can watch an episode of SVU, that usually helps. Or those tricks my therapist taught me so long ago that I have shoved in a corner closet of my mind. I supposed I could also channel the rage into lyrics for future rap songs. I can still filthy rap if I have a baby, right?

A few days after the last post.

We got some big news over here. It turns out that my lady pieces are not as defective as I thought. I won't just be a cat mom anymore... THOUGH I WILL ALWAYS BE A CAT MOM, FOREVER AND EVER. (furever? ugh) This has been life changing news. I guess it usually is... but you see, I had gotten to the point where I was perfectly comfortable with the idea of never having kids. In fact, I liked the idea of it. So this all came as quite a surprise, and not a totally pleasant one. I am being honest here. I know lots of ladies are all OMG BABIEZ or MY LIFE MEANT NOTHING BEFORE MY BB WAS BORN but that's not me. I liked what we had and how things were going, so this has all taken a little while to sink in, just as it took me a little while to get comfortable with the idea of it possibly never happening.

Trever, on the other hand, is beyond thrilled. I think he's been waiting his whole life to be a dad, whether he knows it or not. When we went we had our twelve week ultrasound and saw our little hitchcock alien spawn moving around inside of me, he was crying and smiling, and all I could say was "This is like science fiction."

Now that I am 18 weeks into this.. experiment, the idea has grown on me as it grows in me and my body grows around me. I am, of course, uncomfortable in my body. My butt is getting huge, my boobs are way too big (I bought three new bras which fit for a couple weeks, and now I need new ones again) and the heartburn is killing me. Lucky for me I had acid reflux and a bad back and bunions BEFORE getting pregnant, so I guess at least I am used to these terrible pains that are with me non-stop. Besides all the physical discomfort, and the logistics that go into having a baby (we will have to move, we have no money, what will I do about work, etc etc etc), I do think that we will be excellent parents, even if I sometimes come off like a cold-hearted bitch.

I think the fact that we really enjoy each other's company and love each other will help us to be good parents. Also we have seen lots of examples of what NOT to do. And let's not forget all those episodes of Nanny 911 I have watched over the years. I GOT THIS. Not to mention, we are both cool as fuck, so it's going to be rad to impart all of our knowledge and awesomeness on the tiny person we made. (Am I supposed to stop swearing? Sorry, that will probably never happen.)

His giant Brady Bunch family is all very excited for us, as is my tiny family. My friends have been wonderfully supportive and don't mind that I never do anything fun anymore. I go to bed at seven o'clock now, since working retail during the holidays and being four months pregnant are a terrible combination (go figure) so I don't see anyone anymore, other than Trever and Kiki.

SPEAKING OF KIKI, she is doing well. We did not get a kitten, though it's still a big possibility. Part of the hesitation now is that we will need to move in the next couple of months, so it doesn't make a lot of sense to get one now... or does it? It seems like a lot of trauma for her to adjust. A new kitten, a new home, and a baby? But then we think if we get a kitten now, they can bond, and she will a friend to go through it all with. I am still keeping my eye out on craigslist for free kittens, and hoping that I will see one and I will just know that we need it. That's only happened once so far and the person never emailed me back so clearly it wasn't meant to be.

I think Kiki knows that something is up. She is smart. She isn't doing anything weird yet, like peeing in corners, but she did ignore me for a couple weeks when we first found out. She sometimes will sit on my lap, which is not normal for her. And since we got her new treats for christmas she is being extra annoying about staring at you and meowing every time you step into the kitchen. We can fill her bowl and she will ignore it. Why have delicious EXPENSIVE cat food when you can just swallow treats whole? KIKI, THEY DON'T CLEAN YOUR TEETH IF YOU DON'T FUCKING CHEW THEM, YOU KNOW.

Anyways.. I guess that's all, for now. Trever just made us tacos, so I am going to stuff my face and sit awkwardly on the couch with pillows shoved behind my back. I plan to write in this more often, which will be much easier now that I have a new-to-me laptop (christmas gift from the best dude I know) and I will also start scanning the years' worth of polaroids that I've accumulated and done nothing with. This means that Collecting Time will be updated in 2013, so do check back if you enjoy photos of cats, branches, bricks, shadows, and empty places.

BYE.

twenty two days ago

That was the last time I wrote on this thing. What has happened since then? Well, it's officially FALL, which is great. I am so glad. Now if only I knew where my tights and sweaters are, since I packed them away before we moved, but I don't know in what. Probably in the mountain of shit in our storage space. Not that it will matter much if I find them, as I've easily put on fifteen pounds since last fall, so it may be time to invest in some new tights. Too tight tights? NO THANK YOU. (I am currently wearing one of the two pairs I could locate. Right now, I feel like sausage in casing.)

Fall into winter is a busy time at work, and in life, I guess. I will be turning 34 in a couple weeks, and things are changing in some pretty major ways, most of which I will not discuss on here, but I will say this: when you aren't expecting things is when they will happen.

We brought Kiki in to see her boyfriend (the vet) to check out her scabby chin and get an overall check up & senior blood work done.

(Here's where I brag for a moment about just how GOOD Kiki is at the vet. She may cry in the car, but once she is there, she never puts up a fight, even when he scrapes the plaque off her teeth with his thumbnail. She has not once scratched a vet, not in al her fifteen years. Watch, I probably just jinxed myelf and next time she will tear someone up...)


He asked us how she was doing, being the only cat and what not, and then recommended that if we DO decide to get another cat, we SHOULD get a KITTEN.
THIS IS EXCITING NEWS. Especially because the Quincy Animal Shelter is loaded up with them right now. In fact, this weekend they were having a "Kitten Klearance" Adoption Weekend, as they have over SEVENTY kittens available. We are going to check with the landlord to make sure it's okay if we have two cats (I've never understood the only-one-cat-rule. What's two cats when you already have one, really?) and once we get the okay, we will go pick out Kiki's new kitten. I wish we could bring her along to choose. I have a bunch of days off around my birthday, and all of our possible plans have not worked out, so I have no plans. Perfect time to stay home with cats, I'd say.

Maybe we will name the new cat Birthday.

I can't believe it's September.

We have not adopted a second cat. It's still a thing we think about and talk about, but I think maybe it's not what Kiki wants after all. We've started leaving the radio on for her during the day, and it turns out that maybe she just really wanted to listen to NPR for eight hours a day. WHO KNEW! She is so informed now.

So far the only problem with this plan has been the night we went to Amber's graduation party and we spent the night to be safe. We left the radio on in the bedroom for her. The volume of it at noon on saturday when we left was perfectly acceptable. That same volume at 5 am on Sunday morning blaring out of open bedroom windows, not so much. When we pulled into the driveway, I heard people talking. I thought WHO THE HECK IS UP SO EARLY AND WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT and then I realized what it was, and I felt like a giant asshole.

It hasn't happened again.
Anyways.

We are nearly settled. The tiles are scraped in the bathroom, so we can see the original lovely sea green/aqua. We still need to fix the grout, and we plan on replacing the bathoom faucet. It works fine, but it's gross. Pretty gross. Too gross to actually feel clean when you clean it. So even though we rent, and we won't be here forever, we are going to replace it. Just like we did with the kitchen. It's amazing, it's such a small thing to do and it makes the BIGGEST difference. Try it the next time you move into an old apartment.

I have a little workspace set up in the corner of our "diningroom". It's gets the quotes, because while it has a table and chairs and a hutch with dishware, it also houses the aforementioned workspace, (made up of our old tiny table and some strategically placed shelves) a bookcase, more books in the hutch, the plant cart, and the two fifty gallon tanks filled with water where Ethyl, Bertha, Bruce, and Little Turtle* live. Also my giant closet. So it's just a big mish mosh, like everything else in my life, which is fine with me.

Speaking of the turtles, Ethyl & Bertha let me stroke their heads. LT likes to be hand fed one piece of food before he will eat anything else in the water. Bruce doesn't really want to interact. It's fine. I am like that often, too, Bruce, so I understand. Kiki is only interested in LT and Bruce when she has had a lot of catnip. Not a little. She needs a whole pile to roll in, only then does she notice their presence, and it's a pretty awesome sight.

It's hard to believe it's almost the middle of September. I turn 34 years old in a little over one month. It's hard to believe it, sometimes.


*Little Turtle is the only turtle with his original name. I renamed the other three. Little Turtle is also known as LT or Lawrence Taylor.

I guess we are still grieving.

I know that the humans in our household are still missing Roo. It happens every now and then, we find another picture of her tucked into a book, or find one of her mice with the half chewed tails. At least we have the comfort of knowing we did what was right for her. We are aware. But what about Kiki?

Since we got home from vacation, she cries at night. It's a howling sort of mrow sound, and it's very loud. She starts at the opposite end of the apartment, getting louder as she makes her way into the bedroom. I, of course, wake up. She will jump on the bed, continue her pitiful cries, until I force her to lay down next to me. Sometimes she will stop, and lay still. Other times, she will wriggle out of my arms and sit on my pillow, behind my head, and continue with her yowls, only now RIGHT IN MY EAR and close enough to my face that I can smell her old cat breath.

This happens three to four times a night.

It's like we live with a newborn, only one that has four legs and a rotten mouth.

At first I thought maybe she was going deaf (my old cat at my mom's started yowling a lot after her hearing went) or starting to get senile. Her hearing seems fine, though. She is not looking for food, as we have started giving her some before we go to bed JUST IN CASE that was the problem. It's not.

So I started googling. Web MD for cats is a bad place. But I found some other useful sites. I read that some cats, like people, take a long time to adjust after they lose a companion. And I suppose moving a couple months after losing her sister, and then we leave for a week and she was alone at night for the first time in life, did a real number on her.

Some things I read said that if you have two cats, and you know one is going to die, that you introduce a new cat before that happens. Well, I know it's too late for that, obviously, but then I get mad at the past, cause that was my argument for years with my ex, that we needed a third cat, the cats needed the third cat, and he always fought me on it. I let him win, even though I KNEW it was the right thing. And of course, after he left and I bounced around apartments, trying to adjust to my new life, is when Roo first started getting sick, and there was no way I could juggle a sick cat, Kiki, and a new cat, especially when I moved five times in a year and a half.

I know, I know, I sound bitter. BUT I TRIED TO DO THE RIGHT THING BY MY GIRLS and now my poor Kiki is lonely and old. I am afraid that a kitten will make her feel like she is being replaced, and I think that another girl cat could cause problems. Maybe a two year old boy cat, who's a little lazy, will be the just the thing?

I have no idea. I wish she could just TELL ME what she wanted. And I wish I could sleep through the night without a banshee cat waking me up.

(If you are reading this and you have experience with sibling cats and one dying before the other, let me know your thoughts. Thank you.)

The month of July.

This month has been all kinds of crazy: moving, unpacking (still not quite done, what the hell?), meeting UHH YEAH DUDE (best night of my life), seeing mc chris on the opening night of his tour (before the whole reddit crying video debacle) and then going on vacation for a week in Maine with my family (I could use another vacation after that vacation, whoa boy)

AND now it's almost August, which means summer is pretty much over, and I have not yet been swimming. I do not count jumping in the ocean and then getting back out cause it was freezing.

I was really worried about leaving Kiki while we were in Maine. Amber (cat aunt) cat-sat, which was SO helpful, but she couldn't be there every night sleeping over, so I imagine Kiki wandered around the apartment, meowing loudly and wondering where we were. After all, she was all alone. Every other time I've gone on vacation, she was at least with her sister, but not this time. I wish she could tell me if she was lonely. Trever has moved his four aquatic turtles into our home, so there are two large tanks to watch, but she doesn't really seem too interested in them at all. We know of a neighborhood cat that likes to hang out on our backporch occasionally, so when Kiki gets to go out there, she spends most of the time sniffing corners (probably where he has sprayed. He has the biggest furry catballs ever) so she is definitely aware that there are other cats close by. Does she want to meet them? Befriend them? Scratch their eyes out? Or hide in my closet?

Is she ready for a friend yet? Or it is best to let her live out the rest of her life as a spoiled only cat? This is tormenting me. I know, there are so many other more important things in the world to think about, but right now I just want to focus on my cat.

(who knows if we humans are ready yet...)

We have too much.

And still not enough. It's the fucking curse of this shitty culture that I wish I could rise above. The need to hang on to material objects, it's just gross. And yet here we are. Unpacking and find places for everything should be the enjoyable part, after the tedium of packing and a torture of moving, but for the life of me, I can't seem to do it. My mind wanders. And if it doesn't wander, it panics. This week, I have had two panic attacks. Real ones, not imaginary or "flip outs" but full on hands-shaking-can't-breathe-can't-speak panic attacks. Thankfully I have a very small stash of Kolonopin for these sorts of occasions, and they happen so infrequently that I almost forget that they used to be something I dealt with almost daily in my younger years. It's fucking exhausting. Coping mechanisms from twelve years ago no longer apply, so I am left flapping in the wind.

I am glad that I am not the only person living here, and that the other one is better at unpacking and getting settled than I am.

All the changes in the past months are catching up to me, physically. This new diet is sad and boring. I am more tired than ever before, which sucks because a part of me thought getting rid of all the FUN parts of my diet would at least make me feel better, clearer, SOMETHING. But instead, I still feel the acid, only slightly less, and I am tired all the time. I miss coffee. A LOT. I miss beer. A LOT. I've had a few since this all started, and it seems like if I have only one, I am alright, but not always. I miss tomatoes and iced coffee and lemonade. YOU KNOW, THE JOYS OF SUMMER. And I am reading different things, that tell me to stay away from tea, but then tea is okay, I DON'T KNOW. I am going to have start keeping a food diary again and perhaps a self-imposed elimination diet.

I have a Pretty Things burning a hole in my fridge. Damn it.

IN OTHER NEWS, Kiki is adjusting to her new home. After we lost our Roocat, Kiki still maintained the status quo in the litter box, keeping her pee to the back left, and her poop to the back right. She was stressed during moving day and the day after, not sure what the hell was going on, but once she got it in her head that this was her new home, and it was just her, all of the sudden she is doing whatever wherever she wants in the box. Poop in the front left, pee in the back right, mixing it up. She seems to have it figured out now, that it's all her, and only her. Quite frankly, I think she is pleased, as she loves to be the Queen Bean.

Oh yes, the move itself went smoothly. We had help from wonderful friends who made the day that much better for us. We were so thankful and lucky to have the help.

I guess I will try to unpack at least one whole box now. Thanks for reading my pointless thoughts. Happy weekend

Hello, June.

We have begun the moving process. It's all very tedious. We have been painting the new place, and the color scheme is perfect. It's taking a little while, since we are painting everything: the trim, the walls, the ceilings, the cabinets. And then there is the bathroom, which I am scraping. Scraping five layers of paint off turquoise tiles. It HAS to be done. Who the fuck paints over tiles? Assholes, that's who.

It's a ton of work, but we both know that it's 100% worth it, and when we are finally settled in July, we will take a day to sleep in.

I have only barely begun to pack. That's the part that I get stuck on. It's so hard to not go through shit while boxing it up. I feel compelled to flip through every photo album and journal I pick up. This is time consuming, and sometimes upsetting, especially because there are pictures of Roo everywhere.

And that brings me to the other weird feelings. I keep thinking that I am somehow leaving the ghost of my cat behind. Not that I think Roo is haunting the apartment, but it's so easy to glance out to the porch and see her sitting there still, in the sun spot, licking the wood. When we move, I will look out to a porch that she has never been on, and never will get to see. It's good and bad, I guess. We need to move on, we've outgrown our place and crave a new a neighborhood, but I will miss the floors, the trees, the birds, and seeing my beloved girl in all her favorite spots. I wonder how Kiki feels about everything. I wish she could tell me with words.



I am choked up at work now. Awesome.
and with that, I'm out.

Making Changes.

Big things are happening around these parts.

We are moving to a new neighborhood, into a bigger apartment. This is exciting, and a little sad, but mostly exciting. The new landlord forgot to call us to let us know we got the place, so we spend the two weeks wondering and resigning ourselves to the fact that we didn't get it. Which would have been okay, since the new arrangement of our current place is the best it could possibly be, and I somehow managed to put all the vintage stock for etsy away, but wouldn't be okay, because really, I don't like our neighborhood, I am tired of the rowdy teens, and our across the hall neighbor is moving out. We like her, and can only imagine the worst people moving in across from us. Luckily new landlord is just a little spacey. He just plain forgot to tell us.

SO. We are moving. Which means the next month and half will be a whirlwind of cleaning, sorting, packing, painting, etc etc. The idea is that we will have a yard sale before then, and we will also go to the new place and paint it all, since we will have the time and it needs it. How lucky for me that my fella is a carpenter and an expert painter. So expert, that he probably will only let me roll over big spots of wall. First coat only. Second coat will have to be perfect. (I am exaggerating for sure. But only slightly.) The new kitchen has almost no cabinets, which means we will need to put up shelving, and some kind of pot rack, after we paint. The tiles are black & white and everything else is white, so I am leaning towards yellow for the walls. We won't go crazy with color. In fact, I think the living spaces will all be a warm cream color, which is what we have now, and it goes with everything. Just golden enough to make it feel sunny on a grey day. We also need a larger table, since we will no longer have a tiny table for two in the kitchen, and our table will be dwarfed by the size of the dining room. OH YEAH. And a couch. WE CAN GET A COUCH THAT SEATS THREE OR MORE PEOPLE. WE WILL HAVE THE SPACE. HOLY SHIT.

Obviously there isn't money for all of this right away. Lucky for us, it's yard sale season.

The transition for Kiki will be interesting. I don't think she will appreciate the move right away. I think she will miss the back porch and her bird friends. We won't have a proper back porch anymore, rather a screened in one that is attached to a back hall. The nice part is that it has a partial wall, that is waist high, with a swinging gate (to contain a dog, it seems) so we can attach more screening to it, and we will be able to leave our back door open, giving her even more space and allowing her to spend time out there without us having to constantly check on her and making sure she didn't sneak off. We have a plan to bring her over with us while we work on the space, just so she can roam around and hiss at everything. Then she will come back to this place, and all her things, and when we are finally moved in, she will find her smells already there. I think that makes sense. I worry about shaking up her life too much right now, in light of Roo's passing, but she seems healthy and for the most part, happy, so hopefully this won't cause her too much trauma and will actually be therapeutic for her, as it certainly will be for us.

And maybe once we get settled in, after a couple months, we can consider adding a new cat to our family.

I will miss the sunrises from our front window, the birds in the trees out back, the little turquoise house down the street, the man who walks the track every day and waves up to my kitchen window, the man who sells popcorn at the Quincy Adams t-station, and the boy we call Boy, who loves every dog, playing basketball with the tough kids, rapping, and throwing trash when kids are mean to him.

Cat Dad will miss Debbie, his favorite cashier at Shaws, and having a Home Depot right down the street.

I will not miss drunk tween girls who talk about blowjobs, my downstairs neighbor, paying for oil heat, sidewalks that sparkle with broken glass, drug deals, west quincy tags, and never being able to take a bath.

monday night.

missing you, Roo girl.

Does it count as a vacation if you choose to be a shut-in in your own home?

Just wondering, no reason.

We are going to see This American Life at the movies tonight. I am looking forward to it. And the giant popcorn & soda I will no doubt consume. I may dump goobers in the popcorn.

There is a lot of tension around right now. All over. It's manifesting itself in different ways with different people. I never know what to tell people other than everything gets easier eventually. Because it does. Hopefully some of the shit will settle when the warm weather really shows up. I know that I need the Sun. Probably everyone needs a little more Sun. Right? RIGHT?

Ignore the things people say about you. Especially what they say right to your face. But REALLY, ignore it.... don't pretend you're ignoring it, then a spend a day worrying about it, then bring it up in conversation and feel the need to feel about, until you finally figure out that it's not worth getting upset over. Just KNOW that it's not.

I am on vacation.

This means it's 8:28 am on a Tuesday and I am sitting in Cat Dad's robe, drinking coffee and listening to the radio while fucking around the internet. I am NOT at work. I am not going anywhere, or doing anything very exciting. He has the car, so if I want to go anywhere it's a pain in the ass. I am just home. And it's NICE. (I am supposed update my etsy shop this week. I will. I SWEAR.)

Let's see. Friday was my first of ten days off. I spent the day crazy cleaning our whole apartment. Half the living space had become a pile of vintage. A mobile rack, suitcases, bags. I managed to find a place for everything. It's tight. And organized. In the last month we really have figured out this apartment, the best ways to make use of it's tiny space. We could still make the closets better, and we definitely have more we can get rid off, I'm sure. But right now, our place feels really good. Cozy. Light. Airy. There's a lot of good views in it right now. It's really important to me to love where I live, as I am basically a giant homebody, but as a Libra, I need to be surrounded by beauty. SO I CAN'T LIVE IN AN UGLY PLACE. I won't allow it.

I am rambling due to how I started this day and my coffee is only just now kicking in, so let me get to the point.

We had been talking for awhile now about whether or not we would renew our lease. As much as we like our actual apartment, the neighborhood isn't the best. In fact, it kind of sucks. I am not a fan of some of the neighbors. And it's a little unnerving to hear teenagers getting arrested at 1:00 AM for jumping a man who was walking home from the train. Right outside your bedroom window. I wouldn't mind being able to walk down my street and not have to look down for broken glass.

We couldn't do anything until after Roo. It wouldn't have been fair to do that to her. Kiki seems to be enjoying herself now. She is quite the princess. She has taken over the backporch, eats four meals a day. While she would probably be a little pissed at us, I don't think a move for her is out of the question right now. She is still pretty spry. And if we ever do get another cat, we should probably live someplace else.

Which leads me to this. We looked at apartment a couple weeks ago. We applied for it. We are still waiting to hear. It's weird. I could be using this vacation to pack. Or not. And either way, we will accept the decision. I've been looking around here sadly the past few days, thinking I could still enjoy the space I've made for a little bit longer. But then I look in the tiny jam packed closet and remember the FOUR closets that could be ours, and I know we are ready for a change. So whatever happens, we will keep on keeping on and doing what we do.

BUT HEY, CROSS YOUR FINGERS FOR US. Thanks, really.

and now a brief recap of the past four days aka Cat Dad Turns Thirty So We Celebrate

FRIDAY: Cleaned all day. Our friend Jordan came over that night, we drank beer and ate burgers & fries and HUNG OUT, it was great. I decided that it was time for Cat Dad to open his first birthday present, the classic navy blue lace up vans he's wanted since he was thirteen but for some reason has never bought. He put them on right away and was so happy. I rule.

SATURDAY: Woke up kinda fuzzy. Showers, coffee, breakfast sandwiches (homemade, always, glutenfree life) and then into the car, up to NH, where we went on a tour of the Zimmerman House. It was AWESOME. Just really beautiful. I don't think I can go into it all right now. We couldn't take pictures inside but if we could, I would have stayed in the kitchen taking pictures of every single thing. Walked around the museum. Bought stuff at the gift store (Frank Lloyd Stained Glass Windows Coloring Book. YES.) Made our way back to Quincy, where I made him open all of his birthday presents. (Three old FLW books, the LEGO set for Fallingwater, and a pillow from Stitchagram that is all pictures of Kiki & Roo. It made him cry. Which made me cry. So then I sobbed. And then we put the pillow on the bed and Kiki slept on it. Are you kidding me?) We ate frozen burritos & chicken nuggets for dinner, fancy I know. AND THEN.... We had a birthday party! It was small. Ten people? But all awesome people. Karaoke, Cat Dad Cake, snacks, dancing. Good times. I think he felt loved,which is the point of birthday parties.

SUNDAY: Woke up late (9), left the house dirty. Went to the flea market and SCORED. Went out for breakfast with some of the family. Stop by another friend's house on the southshore. Finally made it home, made sandwiches, and relaxed on the couch. I was asleep before 9:00 pm.

MONDAY: HIS ACTUAL BIRTHDAY. Cat Dad is finally thirty! He went to work, I read a book on the back porch in the sunshine. Birthday dinner? A pitcher of Sangria and three dozen oysters. So you can figure out what dessert was.

He never liked birthdays before me.

So it's been a couple of weeks

And as we suspected, the feelings have changed. Of course, we miss Roo. I think we always will. But the overwhelming urge to breakdown and sob has finally subsided. I think the re-arrangement of the whole apartment helped, as I was seeing her ghost everywhere: at the food bowl, on my pillow, etc etc etc. Now we can look at the pictures of her all over the fridge and smile while we get a little teary.

Kiki seems to be adjusting to her life as the only cat. We have discussed getting another, but it's hard to know what is the best thing. Kiki is fifteen. She has been with other non-sister cats before, but I can't say she ever really liked them. I mean, maybe the cat roommates in college cause they were all young at the time. It's hard to say. Of course, we humans would love another furry baby, but we are fully aware that Kiki got the short end of the stick since Roo was so sick, and if we brought home another cat now, she would have to share the attention again... BUT she would have a catpanion to spend her time with.

I WISH SHE COULD JUST TELL US IF SHE WANTED A KITTY. Maybe she would like a kitten to terrorize.

Do you have any experience with introducing a young cat to an old cat?

This.

Cats are so awesome.

Sometimes you need a change of pace.

Friday was a rough day. I picked up Roo's ashes. They came in a nice wooden box with a note from the crematorium. Morbid and thoughtful at the same time. The box comes with a little lock and two keys. We haven't opened it yet, and I doubt we will. I am just glad I didn't have to buy an urn.

After that sad event, I had to drop my sister's car off at the airport. I really enjoyed zipping around in it, it's faster and smoother than the old red volvo. Rode the rail home, spent the afternoon drinking beer alone and cutting my hair off in the bathroom with dull scissors:



It worked out okay, I am pretty happy with it, but the whole experience reminded me an awful lot of art school in the nineties (only I shaved my head that time.)

The next morning marked a week since we put her down. I woke up early, watched some terrible tv on netflix with Kiki. We snuggled hard and let Trever sleep in. The plan was to re-arrange the whole apartment. We had a late start; after banana chocolate chip pancakes and coffee, we ran a couple errands, and stopped at home to drop off my ice cream before heading to home depot for bird seed. He was driving, started to take the left out of our street but then changed his mind and took the right. GOOD THING! The lady at the end of our street was cleaning out her garage. We mistook it for a yard sale, she corrected us, but then said, "That dresser is free, though, if you want it!"

I swear, Roo was looking down at us. She knew that a new piece of furniture was just the incentive we needed to clean and re-arrange and reset our home. And lordy, the dresser is beautiful. Here is just a taste:



There is a still a lot to do at home, but the change feels pretty good so far.

I am changed by the past week.

I feel a hollow spot. I don't want to smile. I don't want to listen to hip hop. I feel acutely aware of things in my life that make me unhappy. My eyes look different.

I got a call today that Roo's ashes are ready to be picked up.

I saw a bird with it's wing mangled and stuck in the middle of the road. All the cars in that lane kept swerving to avoid it, when really it need to be put out of it's misery. I almost turned around to do it. Instead I got home and sat in my sister's car in my driveway and cried.

Am I supposed to get an urn? Should I sprinkle her ashes somewhere? No place seems appropriate. I could put her ashes into ink and get a tattoo of her face. So far that makes the most sense. Anyone want to buy me a tattoo?

The only things that I get any sense of relief from: listening to the 69 Love Songs, watching 90210 (yes, the new terrible one) and thrifting. Since I've had a terrible cold, there's been less bourbon drinking, which is probably okay, but man, it sucks to sit here with my feelings and really FEEL them. Bourbon is good numbing agent.

Kiki and I have been exchanging meaningful glances. We both know this is going to be an adjustment.

Kiki.

She seems listless. I think she is enjoying having our full attention, but there is this sadness on her face. The cats didn't sleep together, they barely ever sat next to each other (usually I forced them). I mean, they did when they were little, but it's hard for me to remember a time when they were cuddly with each other except for in the first few months I had them. Mostly, they fought. HARD. Like cartoon style cat fights, rolling balls of fluffy limbs, hissing and growling, fur flying. Usually they both had scabs after. And I think that's how they liked it. I know it's been hard on Kiki, watching her sister get sick, and having no one to really get rowdy with. Sometimes I think she would like a young cat to beat up. But at the same time, fifteen seems like a good age to be an only cat. I don't know. I just worry that when I go back to work tomorrow she will lay in the closet all day, feeling lonely. And I don't want that. Maybe I should get her some fish to stare at.

We haven't washed Roo's scarf, or the blanket she decided was hers. We put them on the two chairs that Kiki frequents the most, and she has been sleeping with them. I hope it gives her comfort. As for us, we have determined that in order to move on and not keep thinking we will see Roo sitting there, we need to re-arrange the everything. Every thing. Which will be tricky because our apartment is only so big. Also, we probably should not renew our lease. (we were thinking of not renewing anyways, so this is even more of an incentive, I guess. Or the opposite? What if she haunts this place? Maybe I want to remember? I DON'T KNOW. All I know is I need to chop my hair all off.)

I am basically all fucked up over this.

I took this polaroid on Friday. The sister cats, enjoying the sunny porch together. I am so heartbroken. I know the pain will start to fade, but I will never stop missing my Roo. Poor Kiki, alone after fifteen years of being with her sister every day. The whole thing is so sad.

RIP my sweet girl, we will always love you.

I don't know what to say.

I am feeling a sadness like I have never known. I am sitting at the desk typing this, Kiki is on the chair behind me and Roo is in the open window, watching the world.




Tomorrow morning we will bring Roo the vet, and there is a large possibility that we will not be bringing her home with us. I feel so much pain. These cats are my heart. This is a real pain that I am feeling. And if anyone tries to cut it down, I will punch them in the fucking face.

I knew it would happen. That's what happens, to animals. You get to watch them live their whole life while you live just a part of yours. You create their world. And you can control their end. It's beautiful and painful and totally fucking worth it. I wouldn't trade my time with my cats for anything in the world.

That being said, I feel really fucking terrible right now.

suck-city

Emailing with the vet about our options is really fucking depressing, and the last place in the world I want be is at work.

Excuse me while I go cry in the bathroom, and please don't comment about the makeup running down my face, thanks.

maybe not.

I have been thinking about writing this for awhile. So. Here goes:

I have always wanted to be a mom. I remember telling Meghan that when we lived in Brighton, how I didn't have big career goals like she did, that I would be happy with a husband that I loved, a couple of kids, and a garden to grow food. If I had to have a job, all that I could ask is that the job didn't make me miserable. I wasn't looking for too much, I didn't think. I mean, sure, the American Dream, isn't it what we all want, right?

So I just kept moving through life, trying to pin down something, or someone. Working retail, like lots of art school graduates do. Being a serial monogamist, hoping that eventually one of these dudes would be the ONE. Most relationships had a two year time limit, and then one of the two of us would realize we weren't happy. Usually it was me. When I moved back to the city after one of those endings, I realized that a guy at work, who I didn't like for a long time, and then became my friend, I actually DID have feelings for. Turns out, he had them for me, too, and thus we began a relationship that would make it PAST the two year mark. It was good for awhile but then it wasn't good. Because I am an east coast kid at heart, and I always will be, and he had a love affair with California. Unfortunately, things dragged on WAY TOO LONG. He was not forthright with his feelings. He knew about my wanting babies. I remember one conversation that stung... in the morning, he said "Last night I had a nightmare." I asked him what it was about. He said "You were pregnant. " OH. Thanks. Glad that would be a nightmare. This was after we had been together for over three years. Nice, real nice.

I should mention here that I was on hormonal birth control from the age of fifteen until the age of 27, when I finally had had enough of the bullshit. I went off the pill and I never looked back. Purchased a copy of Taking Charge of Your Fertility, asked him to read it with me; he didn't. He didn't like condoms, didn't want to learn about my cycle, didn't trust me, or biology. So basically our sex life dried up, in a major way.

Here now I will cut the story very short. No one needs to hear all about the long sad year it took for us to finally break up after over four years of being together. But there is a point in that year that is the reason for this post. In a last ditch effort to save something, save us, I decided that we needed to have more sex. At this point, we knew he was moving away to the west coast, and had talked about what this meant for us, supposed plans involving me following him there. (puh-lease, we both knew that was a lie, he didn't want me to, I wasn't going to drive my old lady cats across country) Our time left together was short. And I didn't want to not have sex because he was afraid.

So I made the decision to get an IUD.

I should say now, before I go any further, that I have lots of friends who have them, the hormonal and non-hormonal kinds, and they love them. Rave about them, in fact. And despite what happened to me, I am still an advocate for IUDs, and I wanted so badly for it to work for me. But it didn't. You know in those commercials for drugs, or, hey, IUDs, they mention side effects and the small percentage of people that have serious problems? That was me. I got my IUD, went through the painful insertion, had cramps for a couple days, and then waited to feel normal again. We tried having sex. It hurt. Walking hurt. Sitting hurt. Basically everything hurt. I went a couple weeks, the pain slightly eased, but never really went away. So I called my obgyn (who I love, so much) and made an appt. Turns out, my uterus was trying to expel it, as it was pretty low down, but otherwise, everything appeared fine. I had a decision to make, either leave it in and hope that my body got used to it, or take it out. I said TAKE IT OUT, cause I didn't want to be uncomfortable anymore. Decision made, IUD removed, body back to normal.

Or so I thought.

We were staying at my sister's house while she was on vacation with the rest of the family. It had been maybe two days since I had it removed. We were driving in to the city, and on the way there, I had these terrible pains in my abdomen. I mean, gut-wrenching-tears-down-the-face pain. Made a couple calls to my doctors. I had taken my temp in the morning when I woke, it was normal, and by the time we got back to my shitty little apartment in the city, less than an hour later, it had spiked to 102 degrees. Called the doc again, she said for me to come right in, and when I got to her, she pretty much just looked at me, and said that I had to go to the hospital right away.

Turns out, an infection in your uterus is pretty fucking painful, and also, pretty dangerous. I spent three days hooked up to three different IVs of antibiotics, in hopes that we caught everything in the nick of time, so I wouldn't have any problems in the future. My friend Jenny visited me in the hospital. She drew me a card with a uterus on it. We made up a song called FU IUD. My boyfriend, he was there for one day. He never was that good with illness or taking care of me when I needed it. My sister called me from Maine, and ask me if I was "ruined". I couldn't answer.

That was August of 2009. He left for the west coast that October, we broke up. I dated some dudes. I drank a lot of whiskey. I moved. Had some shitty roommates.

And in February of 2010, I met Trever (aka Cat Dad) and we fell in love.

He is a family man. He loves his sisters, he loves babies. He would be the best dad. I know he would. I never went back on any birth control. We used condoms in the beginning, until we both knew we were together, and then it was all timing, knowing that if anything happened, we would embrace it and make it work. Sometimes, we are intentionally careless. It's not that we are trying to have a baby, but we are not trying not to. I am thirty-three years old. I spent twelve years putting hormones in my body, started doing that before I was even done developing. I can't imagine what that does to a young girl's body, not to mention brain (hello, crazy all through college, I wonder why) Try to get back on a natural path, only to nearly destroy myself with an IUD. My periods are painful now. I worry a lot. At my last pap smear appt, my ladydoc and I talked about it, the prospect of my being "ruined", and she said there is a test I could do, but it involves shooting dye into my parts, and there are possible side effects, and quite frankly, I am not willing to risk it. Everything "appears" to be in working order, but since I have never been pregnant, we won't know if it is, until it happens. I sit with these thoughts often. I try to imagine having a baby. It's getting harder to imagine it. So I am now moving forward with other aspects of my life, figuring out what will make me happy, what I want to do with my life, and trying not to dwell on it. It's easier when I read the news and focus on how fucked up this country, and this world are, and how I don't know how I would explain the evils of it all to a little kid, or how I could raise them to not be assholes, like so many tiny brats I see every day at work and in the world. Not to mention, there are already enough fucking people in this world, who am I to be selfish and want to add more?

It may never happen for us.

So we will go through this life being cat parents, and we will be okay with that because there are SO MANY CATS in the world that need love. And we have so much love to give them.

FIN

real quick like

Since I am back to my five day work week, the cats are feeling neglected, and it shows. I don't like how it makes us all feel. I requested Easter Sunday off (normally Sundays are a work day for me) and ended up with six days in a row of work in order to get Saturday & Sunday off. This was weighing heavily on my mind, knowing that six days would go by and the cats would only see me in the evenings, SO tomorrow I am taking a personal day to deal with "business matters", those matters being the business of cat-petting, porch-sitting and bird watching with my two best girls.

And don't forget: I like my cats more than I will ever like you.

Ah Yes. Okay.

My period came today, a few days early.

And then I read this.


Promptly after reading that, I ordered some of these.

RELEVANT

one of those days

Everything feels wrong. The weather, the porch, our neighborhood, my job, my hair, I could go on and on. Mostly it's hormonal. But not all of it. There is an air of truth to some of my shitty feelings, and I have been trying hard to ignore them, but today it all snuck up on me, set off by a folding beach chair and a certified letter. A bit relief was found at the library. It's across the street from the post office, and I had never ventured in until today. It made sense, as I walked all the way to post office (not a quick walk, but I was carless today, so...) for basically NOTHING, and it started sprinkling, so I figured WHY NOT. A quiet library when you are crazy and ranting to yourself for twenty minutes seems like a good place to calm down. I got a library card, roamed the stacks, and eventually found an armchair in a corner by a window, and went into the words. It was the bright spot of this otherwise dreary and irritating day. I took three books out. One for me, one for us, and one for him. It's a really a nice library, and I plan on spending more time there.

There is not much else to say without this turning into a WOE IS ME post, so I guess that means it's time for bourbon.

Oh, Roo just woke up from her nap, locked eyes with me, gave out a tiny meow and then started purring. And now she is back to sleep. I need to remember moments like these.

recapped.

Yesterday was a bust in some ways and awesome in other ways.

We made back our money, and a $2 profit. Um. Yeah. Then my mom bought three things from me, of course, which was nice of her, especially because she picked three of the pricier things, including these really awesome old leather clogs that were pretty much perfect except for the fact that they are a half size too small for ME, which means they fit her. (My mom paid me with a check.)

I got a lot of compliments on my booth. People took my card. (My friend Jenny stayed with us for the afternoon. She keep handing the card to people. She is a pusher.) I got a few "Oh you sell on Etsy!" and my response was always "There isn't much in my shop but right now BUT THERE WILL BE" which means I have to actually get off my ass and get.shit.done.

I had a $12 beer.

We bought a sweet little starburst vase and a set of two little glasses (perfect for whiskey) from the girl who was right next to us. It was a slow day for everyone, thanks to it being the first cool and rainy day after a week of gorgeous weather, but I still enjoyed the whole process. It was nice to talk to other people who want to do the same things as I do, and the people are ARE doing it and finding success.

All in all, it was an eye-opening experience, and now I will be better prepared for the next one in April. Even though I didn't sell much, the whole day felt satisfying to me in a way that I haven't really felt before, and I need to hang on to that feeling, to remember what it is I enjoy doing.

Oh and after we got home and unloaded the car, we went out for oystes. Three dozen, to be exact. T'was a good evening, for sure.

Today, Tonight. Tomorrow.

Today: started off with a french toast breakfast while watching X-Files and then lots of ironing until Judy came over to help make tags for the flea market. Proceeded with cutting, gluing, ironing, and chatting. Homemade pizza by the fella for the dinner.

Tonight: a whirlwind mad dash of attaching tags, last minute pricing and washing, and then the task of packing it all up into a manageable mountain, which will (hopefully) all fit in the back of a volvo. Beers consumed, no doubt about that, and at the end of twelve hours of work, exhaustion sets in.

Tomorrow: my first time selling vintage at a flea market!



we are bring homemade pizza wrapped in tin foil for lunch.
I hope that cats won't be too sad that their Sunday with Cat Dad doesn't happen this week.

I can't help but notice

just how FUCKED this country is. I mean, what the fuck is up with all these old white men who think women are stupid and need to be told what they are allowed to do with their bodies? It's fucking INFURIATING. Notice, please, that they are all republicans. So if you are voting republican, you are basically encouraging this.

I don't want to get political, but I just don't know how anyone with their RIGHT MIND can agree with the bullshit these assholes are spewing.

IN OTHER NEWS, we got word from our vet that he will no longer be practicing in the clinic we've been going to. He didn't say why, but I can imagine it's because the other doctor in the office (who owns it) seems like a villian from a Disney movie (props to Cat Dad for that description, which is eerily accurrate) and doesn't seem to have a kind bone in his body. I recently read the yelp reviews for the office and I was not surprised to find mostly bad reviews EXCEPT for the ones that were about our beloved Doc. Luckily he will be at a different office alternating Saturdays until he gets a permanent spot again, so he will still be able to see Roo. Also now that I know he has more time on his hands, maybe he will be willing, when IT needs to happen, to make the trip down to Quincy rather than us having to force her into a box and suffer a long car ride on the way to the end. I would like for the whole process to be as painless and easy as possible for all parties involved, and ultimately I think it would be good for Kiki, too. I think? I don't fucking know.

SIGH.

OH SHIT.

I am supposed to get drunk today, right? Since I am Irish and all that?

Okay good. I'm on it. Or I will be.

It's a little too much.

My emotions are running high, and I am feeling extremely anti-social. I remember these feelings, all too well. It's hard, but I am older so it should be easier, right?

I am trying to get stuff done. After all, the to-do list is never ending, but on these days off, I find myself stuck in this rut. The rut is the couch. Also, Charmed. Or some other mind numbing show that I can completely tune out to. In lieu of turning the set on yesterday, when I needed to stop thinking and moving, I sat on the bed and finally finished Michael Ian Black's new book (okay almost, I think I have half a chapter left) but when I got the chapter titled Nibbles, and read through it, I nearly lost it. I was definitely sobbing. So I put the book away for another day. I can't spend the days not at work sitting at home crying my face off, but at the same time, I can't pretend that I don't have these feelings, I can't pretend that I am not SO FUCKING SAD right now, because I am.

The thing is, I know I am a pain in the ass to deal with when I feel like this. I know because I have been told this by various people throughout my life, but also because I am a self-aware adult. Which is why the best thing I can do for my relationships is to keep to myself as much as possible, at least until everything plays out and we are all able to finally find peace.

And in the meantime, I need to locate my god damn rubber stamps and my black ink pad. Can someone tell me where I put them, because I have no idea.

Thankfully I have Childish Gambino to help get me through:


(that one is not explicit. The song is way better with the swears in it, obviously)



DAMN. I love him.

DAWGS

listen to this: best podcast ever

<3

SEATBELTS

Your Monday is my Tuesday, your Sunday is my Monday.

Yesterday I began to write a post, about how the cats and I came to be the family that we are. I had to stop, as I had a full day of bookstore-working to do, and Sundays are always busy, so there was not time for the tom-foolery of blogging. By the time I got home, I felt drained and defeated by the day, so much so that the only thing left to do was to eat leftovers while knitting and watching the X-files.

I don't know when I will get around to it now, maybe on Wednesday. I don't know if I even feel up to it. Obviously, I am sad. It seems now that I handle my sadness by getting angry instead. In the case of when me and my ex split up, that method worked wonders, or so I believed, in helping me work through the pain I was going through(along with bourbon. bourbon always helps) Anger can be a productive and useful emotion when channeled properly, as can sadness, but for so long I had a hard time channeling sadness into anything other than MORE sadness, so this diversion tactic I have created for myself has protected fairly well over the past ten years or so of my life. Unfortunately, it can't help me now. I can't be angry that my cats are getting old, I can't be angry that Roo is sick. Who am I supposed to be angry AT? Who is to blame? No one, nothing. So this sadness I am feeling, it's turning into anger, and without anywhere to properly aim it, it ends up spewing out all over. I can't be nice. I don't want to make small talk. I don't want to smile, or hear a joke, or listen to you tell me that everything is going to be okay and eventually she will be in a better place, we all will. You don't think I know that? Do you think I am an idiot? Because you better fucking believe that I am NOT. I know what's up. But just because I know does not mean I am not totally and completely heartbroken over this. It's just that I still need to get through the day-to-day: get up, go to work, pay the bills, be a grown up. I can't stay home and cry for a week (even though I might, I do have vacation days...) or drink myself into oblivion (I am doing my fair share, a slight variation on this). oh I KNOW there are so many other worse things happening in the world RIGHT at this very moment, but this is what I am dealing with in my life. And I must keep on keeping on. Thus, my bitch face will be ready at all times to deflect pleasant conversation. Move along, nothing to see here.

If only I could be a troll living alone. In a cave. In the woods

Blah blah blah blah.

their schedule

includes way more naps than I am willing to take.
(I do not like napping, but I do like being lazy while they nap.)

I AM TALKING ABOUT MY CATS.

One last thing for today

I am about to make chili and drink beer, but I want to share this again, because it's a special day, AMIRIGHT LADIES?

here's to having a vagina!

THE CATS

SMELL AWESOME TONIGHT!

(warm, windy day = open windows that cats sit in, leaving them smelling like laundry that was dried on a clothesline. weird, I know, since they usually smell like potatoes or bread)

just some quick thoughts

while I take a break from pricing tons of useless shit that no one needs:

- DUDES, IT'S WARM OUT TODAY. I know, this winter has basically been a joke, but I am sooooo ready to drink adult beverages on my back porch and check out the birds' tails while they chill in the rain gutter. TONIGHT I WILL DO THIS, so long as it's still above 55 degrees when I get home from work. MAYBE IT WILL BE 64 DEGREES. MAYBE I WILL DRINK BEER (instead of the bourbon that got me through this weird winter)

- thinking about making a real personal post on here, sort of explaining how I got where I am (33, catmom to two oldladycats, unmarried, unbabied, cohabiting with a dude who was graduating high school when I was graduating college, working in a bookstore, living in MA even though I never reallly wanted to, not using my degree AT ALL, etc etc etc etc) NOT THAT ANYONE REALLY CARES, NEEDS OR WANTS TO KNOW, but I feel like it would beneficial to ME, and isn't that what blogs are for? to feel SELF-IMPORTANT?

- rewatching The X-Files is AWESOME, it still scares me as much as it did when I was fifteen, and Mulder is still so so so hot to me. What can I say, I like when dudes believe in aliens, because after all, I am a fuckin' STARSEED. (if you don't know what a starseed is, see here)

- nothing helps with my sweaty pits, and also, I kinda smell. DEAL WITH IT. My cats really like it.

- ever since I met Michael Ian Black last Saturday, I can't listen to MATES without seeing his cute face and thinking that I wished I had followed through with my plan: to trip and fall, landing with my mouth on his mouth.

- Droppin' Clots has over 400 plays! I feel so much ladylove. I am working on my next song, but it may take a few months, so hang tight y'all

big plans that turn into no plans

That was yesterday. I thought I would get SOOOOOOOO much done, and I guess if watching two episodes of SVU whilst snuggling a cat is being productive, it was a successful day. I did get a lampshade, which we've needed since I broke a lamp a few weeks back, said lamp being replaced with a strange wooden dog lamp that was shadeless and irritating at night next to the bed. It's pretty fun to go into Lowes, a solitary lady, at 7:30 am. SO MUCH CUSTOMER SERVICE, every man wanted to help me. Including the older man who was positioned by the self-checkout, "I can help you checkout, Miss." DUDE I GOT IT, IT'S JUST ONE SMALL LAMPSHADE. I didn't say that, I was nicer than that, but he got the message. I did tell him to have a wonderful day, though, and he seemed to appreciate it.

Mostly my Wednesday was about quality time with the cats. It's what my days off are for, BUT I really need to do some major laundry & prep for the flea market, which is in two weeks. I am learning lately that I do a pretty terrible job at managing my time. I need to work on it before my time runs out. Starting tomorrow, I swear.

monday with a heavy heart

The kitty-coughing fit at 2:00 am this morning was longer than the nights' previous. Poor Roo. There is not much I can do when it's happen, put my hand on her fur and tell her she's fine, but we both know that's not true. When she finally stops and swallows it back, she comes right up to my face and purrs so hard, it breaks my heart every time.

She will let me know when she is ready, I am sure of it. And in the meantime, all I can do is enjoy her as much as possible.

Dealing with mortality fucking sucks.

Find the beauty in the pain.
Find the beauty in the pain.
Find the beauty in the pain.

the past few days

It's been a whirlwind. My niece had a bowling party, we hit some thrifts, and checked out the flea market that I will be selling in next month. It will be my first time peddling wares at a flea and I've got to be honest, I am bit nervous for it! That being said, checking out the space and seeing what is what definitely put my mind at ease. Also knowing that I have the help and support from my fella, who basically has committed himself to helping me with all things vintage, is a great comfort to me.

We didn't spend enough time with the cats. We know it, and they know it. So we are attempting to make up for that.

The big news in the catworld of our home is that we have switched foods. For a long while they were eating Science Diet ZD, for Roo's inflamed bowels and dietary restrictions. When her kidneys starting failing, we switched to the KD line of Science Diet. Both kitties were/are HUGE fans of the dry variety, and for a little while, they were pretty into the wet food. But in the last couple weeks, neither of them expressed much interest in the wet. I found solace in the fact that NEITHER of them liked it, and that it wasn't just Roo getting sicker. I checked in with our beloved vet, Dr. Tubman (we just call him TUB MAN) and he confirmed what I already knew: at this point, the most important thing is that the little sick cat keeps eating, so if we switched her to a food that she liked, that was fine. I did some research, double checked my findings with Tub Man, and now the girls are enjoying a variety of flavors again. After two years on severely limited diets, the same food day in and day out, obviously these cats are PSYCHED. Poor Kiki, putting up with her sister's needs so patiently all this time, has turned into a bully when it comes to the food bowls. She can't get enough, and we, of course, go along with it. Both of my lovely kits have the fattest bellies they've had in quite some time, and really, it's a wonderful feeling.

As sad as I feel sometimes about the whole thing, it's pretty awesome to spoil someone rotten in their golden years, all the while knowing that when it gets too bad, I will get to make the call, and the ending will ultimately be peaceful and painless. It has me thinking about how we, humans in America, deal with the end of life. I hope when it's my time, it will be peaceful and painless and not drag out for much longer than it should.

Okay. Time for dinner. Stayed tuned for pictures this week. I PROMISE.

today.

This is the date that we chose as our "official" anniversary. Our first date was three days long, and then the two weeks that followed we tried to play it cool while both knowing full well that this was it. So, if memory serves correctly (which is highly debatable), the day we became began going steady, was the twentieth fourth day of February. Since the anniversary of our first date, Valentine's day, and this day all fall with a few weeks of each other, February is the month of love around here. That, combined with this crazy feline love, make for a pretty intense emotional climate, lemme tell you.

We are enjoying our lazy day, recording songs, cooking foods, enjoying afternoon libations, and trying to live in the moment that is this lovely day in our lives. Pretty lucky, we are.

I was going to make a post full of pictures, but I want to knit and watch netflix and get cozy with my best friends.

So you get this instead:

Musings

Turns out that when I have already worked forty hours in a week, throwing another ten hours on makes me very unmotivated. Big shocker, I know.

I do have a few things on my mind today:

This awesome story about a heroic twenty-one pound cat

I am so freakin' pumped that Genie blogged about me!

OH MAN, this is the cutest thing. LOOK AT HIS LITTLE HANDS. (I want a pet raccoon now.)

Help my friend Kate out. She is awseome, and so is this.

Looking forward to a rainy friday... hopefully I can spend it at home with my girls and Cat Dad, snuggling on the couch and getting my knit on.

incorrect

I am working today, in order to have three days off in a row (including a Sunday! UNHEARD OF!) which is fine but it means five ten hour days in a row, and I know the cats are feeling neglected. I had this plan to smother them with attention on Friday, but it is looking like I may have some other business to take care (legal matters) which will mean a lot of driving around for me instead. As much as I would rather enjoy my day off on the couch with the girls, I do find the driving therapeutic, especially given that I so rarely do it these days. We are a one car household and for the most part I am fine with it, except for when I have the thrift-itch on a weekday morn.

My niece turns FIVE today. I can't believe she is so old. Her birthday party is this weekend, at a bowling alley. It should be fun. I like watching little kids bowl, since they generally suck at it. I am really excited to give her her birthday present:



now I kinda wish I got her the TRIPLE fringe. I guess that can wait for when she turns six.

insta-cats

some of my favorite snaps of the girls from the past couple weeks.

when I am not a cat mom

I do things like this.

Here is one photo of two cats.

(from two weeks ago)

How to differentiate between Kiki and Roo:
Roo = white moustache
Kiki = white goatee

Also Kiki is now bigger than Roo (used to be the other way around before Roo got the sick) and Roo has two different color eyes. If it's too complicated for you, or you are lazy, feel free to refer to both of them as KIKIROO, which is what my sister does.

FINALLY

I learned the bamboo stitch (I love knitting though I am, admittedly, not the best) and made this giant cowl using a yarn called PSYCHEDELIC, and Roo decided it is hers. It's a yarn donut, for sleeping inside of, and it belongs to the cats. I need to post a picture, but I am at work and the pictures are on the camera at home. Remind me later, world.

(running on too much coffee and emotions this sunday, remember to lift with my knees and keep my gameface on. crying must be done at home in the privacy of my own sweatpants.)

A thought

I would like to install video cameras to record the cats when I am not here. I am so curious. Do you think they would feel as though their privacy has been invaded?

Not your typical day.

This morning I woke up to extreme pain in my shoulders and neck. It's as though the middle where my neck, shoulders and spine connect is this giant clusterfuck of pain. Unable to turn my head or lift my arms or put a bra, I gave in to the fact that 1. I am old and 2. I wasn't going to work today, which sucks cause we had a sale to set up for and I feel bad when I am not there to do my part... though I wouldn't have been able to do anything anyways.

So I laid in bed today. I took a muscle relaxer at 8 am which caused me to doze in and out, and have the WEIRDEST dreams, mostly involving my mom coming over and re-arranging our apartment while I was sleeping. It felt so real, I am glad it's not.

The cats slept with me for most of the day, too. We were three old ladies laying on the bed together.

Oh, I am still in pain, but I see the chiropractor in less than an hour. And then, maybe some bourbon.

Wednesdays are for this.

Watching hours of Law & Order while knitting with a cat on either side of me. This is why I work my forty hour week in four days instead of five, so I can make sure I have an extra day off to spend quality time with my two best friends. (and supposedly to update my shop and prep for the flea market next month, OH YEAH I should probably get on that...)

Kiki jumped up and sat next to Roo. Then the unthinkable happened, something I haven't seen in fourteen years. Roo started giving Kiki a bath. I filmed it. Eventually I will inundate this blog with pictures and videos, I promise.

They know their time together now is precious, I think. There's has been a lot more spats, trailing each other, and dirty looks when one cat is getting the attention that the other wants, but also, quiet moments together on the couch, enjoying the unmade bed, watching the bird feeder side by side. It is so touching and heartbreaking. I mean, they are fifteen years old. They have been together their entire lives. A fifteen year old cat is like a seventy-three year old person. If my sister and I spent every day of our lives together until we were in our seventies, I imagine we would have a pretty unique and complex relationship, so why shouldn't Kiki and Roo?

Three nice things on Tuesday.

My mouth numbness is probably not permanent! (when it will end, who knows, but eventually, it will most likely go away.)

VIDEO CATNIP ON DVD IS HERE IN MY HOT LITTLE HANDS.

My wonderful fella sent roses to the bookstore! This is the second time in all 33 years of my life that I have had flowers delivered to me. Luckily they came all packaged up with a box so I can take them home with me rather than leave them on my desk in my stuffy basement hovel at work.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I will spend this morning at the Oral Surgery department of Mass General, seeing a nerve specialist to make sure that the hack dentist I saw for my root canal didn't cause me permanent nerve damage (I have been numb since december) and then off to work. Tonight will be spent petting the cats and snuggling up to Cat Dad. He is going to love his gift (I won't reveal it here, but it is probably a book) and more importantly, the cats are going LOVE theirs: the Video Catnip dvd! The VHS copy we have is pretty well worn now, and besides, the dvd will be so much better on the flat screen. Also, it has a loop feature for continuous play!

My kitties = my heart.

I feel a feeling of guilt.

I did not say goodbye to the cats today. I just realized it. I have been at work for an hour and something has been feeling off. And now, through text messaging, we realize that neither of us rubbed Roo's steroid cream in her ear. (Yes, that's right, steroid cream.)

So I will go through this day wishing it will move fast fast faster, and that the night will crawl by, so I can get some quality time in with my girls and go to sleep without feeling like I am a bad catmom.

Maybe this is ridiculous to you, if you don't have pets, or even if you do, but it's my life, dawgs.

How to start a Sunday

Get up before the alarm.
Take a shower (do not shampoo)
Feed Kiki (she is yelling at you)
Feed Roo (she is hiding under the bed)
Make French press (travel mug style since the glass one broke)
Eat a banana
Give Roo subcutaneous fluids (bonnie holds her, trever stabs her, Kiki watches from another chair)
Tell madRudycat how good she is and kiss her though she is visibly pissed
Leave a pile of treats under the kitchen table
Say Goodbye to cats
Go to work and miss the cats.

Here we go again.

Okay. One more time, why not. I have kept blogs in the past, but it's been awhile since I have felt the pull. Lately I have been thinking about it more and more, as I come to find myself looking at other people's blogs and feeling a few feelings: I should do this. I want more space. My cats are cuter than your babies.

And so on and so forth.

I do not have a husband or baby or a new house. I am not a newlywed or a divorcee or the owner of a vintage car or shop. I am just a lady in her early 30's, who works at a bookstore, lives with her boyfriend (of two years, no high school sweethearts here) and our two cats. MY two cats, originally, but I am comfortable enough to call them ours now. I have had my cats since I was eighteen years old, the beginning of my adult life. I moved in my first apartment, all alone, as a sophomore in college, and I needed it to feel like my home, so I did the only thing that made sense to me. GET CATS .

Kiki and Roo are my best friends, the nearest and dearest to my heart. They are my furry babies, my old ladies, my sissy cats. They have shaped my life, defined my choices, and brought me so much joy. I can't imagine my life without them, but this is something that I am going to have to accept, unfortunately, and probably sooner than later. I guess that is part of the reason why I feel compelled to blog again. I am going through some sad cattimes, I am seeing so much beauty in pain and pain in beauty, my heart is swelling and breaking constantly, and I suppose I need some sort of outlet in which to talk about this.

ANYWAYS.... a few other things to know about me:
- collector of: pyrex, crewel, polaroid cameras, starburst flatware, moccasins, silk scarves, books, pillowcases, couroc
- constantly starting new journals and notebooks and abandoning them
- art school graduate
- listens to excessive amounts of hip hop (surprise.) also: weird al
- dying for the country life but stuck in a gritty lil city just outside Boston
- would prefer to just sell vintage as a job, but missed the boat somehow and am currently involved with a wonderful independent bookstore that I love and have loved for years, but could use a change
- suck at updating my etsy shop
- rarely travel, seldom take vacations
- overly caffeinated, bourbon lover
-I LOVE MY CATS MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE.

okay?

Also, that boyfriend I mentioned? Yeah. He goes by the name of Cat Dad. He writes songs inspired by, yes, you got it, CATS. You can hear them here and see his tumblr here.

CATS. CATS. CATS.