And Now I’m A Cat … Sort of

Day four of my social media blackout and so far so good.

I’m still doing that addict thing of reaching for my phone constantly for some kind of validation but I found the Nicorette of the social media world … book apps.

Now when I pick up my phone to check my Facebook or Instagram account and then remember that there is nothing fun on my phone anymore, I read a few pages of a book.

Speaking of books, Kafka On the Shore just went completely off the rails. Nothing makes sense, everything is bizarrely connected and it kind of feels like real life (without being able to talk to cats, psychic murder and incest, of course). I love this book, it’s less scary than the real world which is saying something.

I decided that my rabbit looked too cat-like so with Scratchy and his friend watching, I surgically removed the ears and replaced them with cat ears.

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And now I’m a cat that looks like a rabbit

Maybe my life is like a Murakami book after all.

The thing about sculpture is that something might look right from one angle and totally wrong from another. For instance, the cat ears were bigger originally but I cut them down because they looked too big. But from this angle they look too small.

And because I was trying to make the rabbit look more rabbit-like by making the eyes bigger even though they were to close together, now they look too rabbitty for a cat. I’m just going to call it good with this thing and hang it on my wall (if it survives the finishing process) and chalk it up to a valiant first attempt.

Besides, Loony and I have an affinity for awkward pet portraits. For instance …

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My cat/rabbit thing might just fit right in. Much to my mother-in-law’s relief I have settled on a name for the cat/rabbit. It’s Crenshaw, after a book Scratchy is currently enjoying.

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From what I gather, it’s about a family that is really down on their luck and our protagonist has a gigantic imaginary cat friend that helps him out. I could use one of those.

So today is my birthday and I’m 45. My Parasitic Twin will be glad it’s my birthday because I’ve been saying I’m 45 for the last year, even though I was only 44. So now I’m 45 and she can get off my back.

Quite some time ago this article came across my feed and it resonated back then so I saved it in a folder to post on my actual birthday. Here it is.

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It’s all about being apologetic about wanting to have a party and be celebrated, etc, etc, which is true for me but not today.

My Parasitic Twin said she’d do anything for me on my birthday, whatever I want. Alana offered to make a timpano and while I love timpano, it is a food to be enjoyed with abandon and glee and I feel none of that.

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If I got all my friends together today we would inevitably start talking about the election and then we’d all get bummed and then someone would try to change the subject which would feel obvious and forced and it wouldn’t be a birthday party, it would be a pity party.

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And it’s OK to talk about the election. It would be wrong to talk about anything else, but I don’t think I want to clean my house (twice) and deal with the logistics of having people over and then the food and red wine hangover. All to talk about Trump.

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Plus timpano take a day to make and it’s too late.

BUT (good news) I ran into an old acquaintance yesterday while picking up my favorite cheese (Chaource) at a new cheese place (Le Frigo) and I really dig this guy. He looks like an extra from the Sopranos and is a great cook.

He said he wants in on this timpano action so maybe one day we can do it at my house with the Alana/Brian/Viv dream team. Maybe when the feelings aren’t so raw and life has proven to go on.

Right now I’m depressed.

I want to sleep … a lot … but it’s hard to fall asleep or maybe I just don’t like being alone with my thoughts so I listen to podcasts until I drift off. Then I dream about my teeth falling out and shit like that and wake up but I don’t want to actually get out of bed. I’ve been here before and I know how to dig out but this is where I am.

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All I want to do is eat this all day

I texted MPT at 5am which was a Hail Mary because she loves her sleep.

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Here’s what I want for my birthday (aside from waking up and realizing that it was all a bad dream). A new vacuum (which I think Loony is getting for me), a 20 pound cat, a nice letter from my kids (I let them know that’s what I want) and I want Sideboob’s husband to show up in his sexy SWAT outfit and figure out why my router is now giving my computer security warnings.

I can’t be all gloom and doom. There are things that make me happy. For instance, I saw Scratchy score a basket during his game yesterday which made me pleased as punch. My frogs are pretty psyched the Betta fish died and are super fun to watch frolic around. Bates gave us a scare by not coming in last night but then ambushed us on our morning walk and then tailed us home, and watching Gazonga (a friend with ginormous boobies, AKA Snuggle Puppies) fall in love with the Scheissehund. And vice versa.

Oh, and Scratchy rescued a mouse from Bates and fed him some cheese and released him in the neighbor’s yard (sorry about that) and it was adorable.

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GO FORTH AND MULTIPLY!!!

And I listened to this great Snap Judgement podcast (#626 The Proxy) about this traumatized guy who recreated a WWII Belgian Town out of Barbie dolls.

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I’m desperate to see the book and watch the documentary. Check out the website at www.marwencol.com

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9 thoughts on “And Now I’m A Cat … Sort of

  1. Happy Birthday. I like it so much better when the age I am has a zero or a five in the ones place……that way it is easier for me to remember how old I am. When I was teaching 5th grade last week a boy wanted to know if it was rude to ask my age. I said, “55yrs old” He didn’t think I look that old. He said he thought I was 30 or 20yrs old. hahah 🙂

    • Kids are funny, aren’t they? I met Marcia when I was 13 and she was in her 50’s. I was astounded that I could have a connection with someone that old, which is funny now that I am closing in on that age and I don’t really feel a whole lot different than I did when I was 13. Granted, there are differences but I feel like my center is still the same. I wouldn’t be 13 again for anything.

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