Look what I got today …
SIX YEARS?!?! Fuuuuuuuck. That’s a long time.
My blogging has slowed to barely a trickle for a litany of reasons, the biggest being that the less frequently I blog, the harder it is to create a post when I finally get around to it; there is always too much to cover and it turns into a drag.
On my walk with Tabby she said that, like me, she processes her feelings by writing (insert potential disaster situation involving a borrowed computer and open tabs).
Yes, writing is how I process my feelings, which means I haven’t really been processing much (except travelogues) for the last year. And I fear those feelings have stuck to my waistline and thighs in the form of self-medication via food and booze. I’m not against happy weight, but I’m not into stress weight.
So in addition to cutting out the booze, second helpings at dinner, and dessert, I’m going to attempt to shed about 10 pounds of pent up frustration, stress, and general angst by posting more regularly.
I promise it won’t be a 24-Hour Pity Party, just the usual stuff on my mind, most of which is stupid but makes me happy to put into words. Here goes.
I have a sweet, young housemate that – like most young people who haven’t forced people out of their own bodies and deal with cleaning up poop and catching vomit in their bare hands – is squeamish about stuff. Like spiders. She sent me a panicked text about a spider infestation and pleaded with me to come down and look at a spider she trapped.
I snapped a picture of it, released it into the yard, and promised to find out what it was. Naturally I couldn’t resist fucking with her.
Hey Dad, it’s a movie reference from Megamind
I loves me a good practical joke. On that note, Itchy got me good.
As you know I am obsessed with Chief’s weight and take him to the vet for regular weigh-ins. One day I was doing errands with Itchy and we stopped at the vet. Just inside was a teary Parasitic Twin, her husband and her dog who recently had a tumor removed. They were having a what looked like a very heavy conversation with the vet.
I gave her the side eye and asked her what she was doing there. She mouthed, “Jza has cancer, she’s dying.” And then she asked me what I was doing there.
“Oh just weighing my dog, as usual.”
“You actually do that?” She asked. “I thought you were kidding about that.”
“Nope,” the vet answered, “she’s here every week, weighing her dog, making her growth chart.”
Me: I told you!
So we put Chief on the scale (totally disrupting a very emotional medical conference between MPT and the vet) and to my horror he weighed 36 pounds! Mind you, last week, and for several weeks prior he weighed 31 pounds.
Cue me freaking out …
WHAT THE FUCK HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE HOW COULD HE HAVE GAINED 5 POUNDS IN ONE WEEK WHAT DOES THIS MEAN HE ISN’T DONE GROWING YET I PAID FOR A MINI HOW BIG IS HE GOING TO BE FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!
… all the way past MPT, her dying dog, and down the street. I continued to loudly freak out about it for 15 minutes until Itchy confessed to me that he had his toe on the scale.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
That is exactly the kind of thing I would do and he did it to me.
I have never been so proud of him in my entire life.
EXCEPT THE OTHER DAY when we had a summit on Minx and decided that she wasn’t as slutty as she could be because she didn’t have a dedicated human. TFC (That Fucking Cat, the black one) is Scratchy’s cat and she guards him, Bates hangs out with Loony, and the dogs keep all cats away from me. What Minx needs is a human and Itchy is the guy for the job.
He spent the afternoon reading in the sunroom with Minx and Scheissehund on him to the point where he had dead arm from not being able to move for three hours. He said, “One cannot betray the trust of a cat by disturbing them while they are asleep.” Even to the detriment of one’s own circulation.
Sage words from one so young.
It’s like Minx is coyote adorable.
After three hours he had to move, Minx ran off, and I went to the bank. My phone rang and it was Itchy. He didn’t say hello, he just quietly sang into the phone, ” But the cat came back, the very next day …”
Again, I swelled with pride. I use theme songs for all situations and I like to sing them into phones.
Here’s a funny text with MPT. I just dropped Scratchy off and needed to tell her some shit but didn’t want to get out of my car, so I texted her from in front of her house.
She gets me.
You know who also gets me? Stitch …
I love her so much. She got married and moved to Germany (random, I know, but hey, YOLO) and I miss her. But at least we have the internet to bring us together.
She was back in Boulder for a wedding and stopped by. Look what happened!
Here’s some inspirational stuff from the internet …
The “kiss your friends” quote makes me think of Márion.
I have never been a tattoo person. Never, because I felt like tattoos are something you can never undo, who knows if what I love one day will be something I love in ten years.
But there is something about Mà that makes me want to have something on my body to bind her memory to me. She’s a fan of getting tattoos with friends, just small ones. I want to get this one, for her, and to remind me of what she stands for: sisterhood, connection, togetherness, open hearts, the free flowing of love and care for another. I don’t think I will ever grow out of that.
I sent her a message this morning …
I can’t wait, I’m going to do it today.
Here are two things that never get old …
See? A fun post, and not just one about (albeit amazing) travel.
Why write today when I posted yesterday? Because it’s Father’s Day and yesterday as I counseled the boys not to buy something for Loony but to give them something of themselves – a letter, a poem – I am doing the same thing for my dad.
Happy Father’s Day Dad! I love you, here’s a box of virtual kittens.