Cry Havok, and Let Loose the Weasels of War!

Not my god damned day...

I had been typing for two hours this evening about how I'd been the past few weeks, and then my browser froze, and I lost EVERYTHING.

I'm discouraged now, because I felt like I had a really awesome flow going. 

Alright, I'll try again, and hopefully be as funny and witty as I (felt I) was the first time. It may be a losing battle as I am now 3 drinks into a pretty decent drunk.

Adventures In Weasel-Sitting

I have been so busy the past few weeks, so I'm sorry about the lack of posts. I'm honestly horrible when it comes to packing, and moving. I'm awful. And Husband isn't much better to be honest. So between us, we're pretty ineffectual. It's amazing. But tonight I started putting away the last of what was unpacked, such as the pots and pans we had been using for day-to-day cooking, and the utensils. From here on out, if it doesn't come pre-prepared... then we're not eating it.

To add to the chaos, I've been babysitting a friend's ferrets while she's in New York visiting family for Memorial Weekend. Over Christmas I watched her ferret Shiver, and I loved her. She enjoyed sitting in my lap while I watched TV, or snuggling inside of my bathrobe while I typed on my laptop. She was awesome, and sweet. But what I didn't realise was that Shiver was an older ferret at the end of her lifespan. She was mellowed by time.
Roscoe and Hannalore are about a year old, and feisty. They chase my cats, wrestle my feet, and like to attack unsuspecting shoes with unparalleled ferocity. Seven seems to love them, and will allow them to in turn chase, and be chased by her. They lay in the hallway and wrestle until she's done with it, and then she holds one of the ferrets down and grooms it. Data on the other hand will climb to the top of his cat tree out of their reach and give us looks like "What the shit... really? You're gonna let them do that?" They're so ornery that we've taken to calling them "War Weasels" rather than ferrets. They get all riled up, and do this insane war dance. It's laugh out loud funny, I mean seriously.

I love Roscoe more than is reasonable, and he's adorably fat, like a badger. Hannalore is more dominant, and would rather play than cuddle. Neither of them ever bite, ever.
If it weren't for the fact that they're only 90% litter box trainable, I would want a pair for myself.

Oh, what's that you say..? I didn't mention the litter box part? Oh yes, how silly of me. They're pooping in my corners if I don't watch them.
Pooping. In. My. House.
In the corners.

Yep... it's lovely.

We've only had three accidents on carpet, but there have been a few of them on tile. And ferret poop smells delightful. It's wonderful* actually.. No seriously, it reminds me of a movie scene, hold on.

What a wonderful smell you've discovered... no seriously, is that ferret shit?

But they're hysterical beasts to watch. I do sort of love them. Musky smell and all.** Here's a video of Roscoe killing my socks for the betterment of all ferret-kind, because apparently war weasels must have a battle to fight, even if that battle is against fabric.

 

Chicago!  

June 10th I'm headed to Chicago to see The Bloggess! I have my copy of her book, and I will probably buy another copy as a gift for my best friend. I get to hang out with the ever lovely Lauren on this trip as well, so how cool is that?

 It'll be a whole weekend trip, so look for a lot of photos to come from it, especially since my dSLR is now working again. I can show off my mad photo skillz, yeah baby, yeah!

I promised Bob that I'd get a photo for him, so he knows we're thinking of him, so look for that as well.


I'll leave you with more weasel insanity:

PS. My home is not usually so messy, I keep a very tidy house most days, but please refer back to the previous statement about being ineffectual about packing and moving. Thank you.

*By wonderful I, of course, mean disgusting.
**To be fair, I would rate "ferret smell" as somewhere better than "wet dirty dog" but worse than "hamster cage"

EDIT: OH! I almost forgot to mention that I have a beautiful bike now! I've been riding it fairly often so for, and I love it. Here's a photo I took the first day I had it, when I was riding it home.

It's very fancy, and shifts gears automatically. Because I'm trying to lose weight... but I'm also lazy. 

Till next time my lovely readers!

A Promise, not a real post

This is just a place holder, I will be writing a proper blog soon about my amazing* adventures in Ferret sitting. I have video, and photographs. Also, I move on Thursday, so look for more frequent blogging soon! Yay!



*omg kill me now, they're on meth or something...

Mister Sandman, Bring Me A Dream

Just A Short Post

I had a bad dream last night. I woke up this morning very disturbed and uneasy. I dreamt that I had pet rabbits, and when I went to feed them I realised that they were out of water, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd filled their water bottles. They were so thirsty, and dehydrated. I cried in my dream because I felt so bad about it. These creatures depended on me, were members of my family, and I'd neglected them!
I awoke intensely disturbed, and upset.

Laugh all you like, you have your fears, I have mine. *chuckles* Mine happen to involve failing to protect animals, and loved ones. 


What kind of bad dreams do you guys have?


"-People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes." -Neil Gaiman's The Sandman, Preludes and Nocturnes 

 

Five Things I'm Scared To Tell You... And a Video!

Five things I'm Afraid to Tell You

Lauren from "Filing Jointly... Finally" did a post about five secret things she doesn't like to admit to. She followed it up with a challenge of sorts for her followers with blogs to do the same. I'm always up for a challenge.. right?

I hope this doesn't loose me the few followers I have. *laughs* Alright, let's do this.

#1 I am terrified of loud noises

When I was a kid, we lived on the railroad tracks. And I mean almost literally. You could stand on my grandmother's front porch and throw a rock onto the tracks without that much effort. They're not very busy now, but in the 80's there were many trains travelling that length of track, and they would blow their whistle as they went through the area. I remember laying in bed, absolutely CERTAIN that there were awful things, possibly undead things, using the train's passing to cover their approach. I wouldn't know they were coming because the trains were too loud. It was terrible! So I'd lay very still, hoping that if I was still enough they wouldn't find me. To this day slamming doors, fire alarms, when the radio is up loud... anything above conversation level... is very alarming to me. I love live concerts, but I'm also very anxious during them.

#2 I grew up in the ghetto, very poor

And by ghetto, I mean the fucking ghetto. I grew up near Oakland California, and I saw my first shooting at the age of 14. I've seen people hurt, I've known people who've died. People I've gone to school with have over-dosed on drugs, or gone to jail. A sickeningly large portion of the girls I went to high school with have been sexually assaulted, sometimes brutally. And for a long time.. I accepted it as "normal". It's just what happened. Now that I no longer live there, I'm often embarrassed by where I came from. It never occurred to me for years that the home I grew up in would be considered unlivable to most people. Quite honestly it should probably be condemned. My in-laws have gorgeous homes, with huge manicured lawns, and nice jobs. Many of the friends I have online and in real life come from lovely homes, and families I would consider wealthy, and I often feel like any day now they will discover that I do not belong in their world. "Not Our Kind, Dear".

#3 My ex husband was abusive

And I don't mean he shouted at me a lot, although he did that too. Not that verbal abuse is any better... but yeah. My blog here is fairly anonymous, there isn't any connection from my Facebook to this blog on purpose. There are one or two people who are still in loose contact with him, and I'm scared of him finding this blog. It is my haven, my safe zone where I can rant all I want, about anything I want. In saying that, I'm not ready to share details, because I tried to talk about it in an online forum before, on another account, and he found it, and threatened my Gramma. His sister was (Still is? I dunno, I stay away from any and all contact) a psychopathic meth addict, and I totally believe she'd hurt my family. I think he would too. I hate him though. I feel anger for people, but he's the only one I hate. For years I felt like I must have deserved it, at least somewhat. He had a reason for it, every time. I finally broke down and told my husband why I'd felt I'd deserved it, and he hugged me, and loved me and told me there was never, ever an excuse for it, no matter what. And something in my chest loosened a little. It's better now, but I still fear him.

#4 I was a drug addict

Yep! Oh boy is that a fun thing to talk about at parties. Actually no, it isn't. So I don't. I usually don't mention it at all. But yes, I was. The particular drug of choice is a rough one, and I'm one of the few I've heard of who were able to come off of it. Apparently, it's difficult. But I managed. I kept all my teeth, all my hair, no scars, and no (obvious) permanent damage. So I win! I'll be damned before I ever go down that road again though, and I have no time for addicts of any kind now. I understand that it is REALLY hard to kick addiction, and I know a few people who are doing awesome at it (alcohol, not anything rougher) but people who are not seeking help, or who keep failing, and letting themselves fail... No time at all. It's not a reflection on them, or their struggles. I do not, let me repeat DO NOT feel like I am better than them, or stronger than they are, or that they are not worth my time. I simply cannot allow that sort of behavior into my life. I've got shit where I need it to be, and messing it up would be detrimental to my well-being.

#5 I am an Atheist who wishes I had something to believe in

I was raised by my mom, and Gramma. My mom is Wiccan, and raised me amongst Tarot cards, and candles, and incense. I remember being really excited when she gave me my very own tarot deck at 7. As I got older though, I found it didn't answer things for me. I checked out Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and even Christianity. None of them spoke to me of truth, none of them resonated in my soul. As a matter of fact I was extremely frustrated and appalled by the bible after I read it. Judges, Numbers, Deuteronomy (several places actually), Samuel, Exodus, and Zechariah all condone, and in some cases encourage, rape. As someone who has been raped, I felt nothing but disgust. There were those who tried to say that those were old, and didn't count, but if you're going to live your life by the rules of a book, you can't just cherry-pick whatever pleases you. I decided to live the best life I could, without a invisible Father-Figure looking down on me, judging me. I don't need a book to tell me what is, and is not right. So I donate to charity, help others, love my fellow people, do kind things for animals, help the elderly, and play with children. I am a good person, who does good things, and will leave a wonderful legacy behind me. I don't need religion to help me with that. But when things are hard, I secretly wish I did believe. Because then I could say "God has a plan" or "The universe has a plan for me" or even "Karma will come around, and things will be better". And I would be comforted. Also, I wish I believed that after I die, I would see all my loved ones again. But I don't.

So... there we go! I hope none of you hate me now, or find me creepy. I also hope I don't get hate mail for not liking Christianity. I have lovely, wonderful friends who are devout believers, and I don't think that they're awful for believing. >
Anyway, this was a pretty heavy blog post, so I should leave it with something to lighten it up a bit.
Here is a video of Seven, attacking a handmade stuffed toy that was made for me by one of my Gramma's coworkers at the hospital. I've had it since I was three years old. Watch all the way to the end. It's only a minute long!



Till next time!

The Packing Starts Here

Hey guys!

I just got back from meeting with our new landlord, so the packing starts today! We're set to move memorial day weekend, and I haven't started any of my packing. So let me apologize in advance for not updating as frequently as I want to.
I'll keep today's post short as I can already hear the cats making a mess out of my linen closet.

Let's Pretend This Never Happened

Yes, I've been reading the new Bloggess book, and I love it. Unbelievably funny. Seriously, even funnier than she normally is on her blog, which is already hysterical. My husband does not appreciate my attempts to read passages out-loud to him. He says he already know what it's like to live with a crazy person, he doesn't need insight into what some other poor man is going through.
*tch*
Shocking.. really. He doesn't know what he's missing.

Alright guys, I'll try to post, but no promises! I have a huge two bedroom apartment to pack up, and only 8 days off to do it in.

See you soon!

Phoning It In

Damn I'm Busy

 Hey guys! I've been super caught up with things elsewhere on webspace, and just haven't had much to talk about right now. We did hear from the landlord, and yes it was nothing at all. He just wanted to know if we were happy here, and to let us know that he wasn't raising the rent this year. The strange part was that in an effort to soothe my panic, Husband found us a new apartment to move to that's two houses down from us, and $300 less. So I think we're moving anyway. Weird, huh? The new apartment has a basement (it's actually more of a house than an apartment, really), and a yard that I can plant in, rather than growing all of my flowers in pots on the deck. Oh! It also has a FIREPLACE! Which means I can totally decorate properly for Christmas this year. FUCK YAH!
Snow falling softly outside of our sliding glass doors, while a fireplace burns merrily in our hearth. OMFG I love this idea already and it's still Spring!

So we'll be moving in June, which means I have a bunch of mad packing to do. Holy shit do I ever... it's only just hit me as I type this..
Sooooo, I might have another anxiety attack on the way. Fuck my life.

Nah, I'm kidding... fireplace.

Dieting... Like a Boss

 I weighed myself yesterday and I weighed.... are you ready?


I mean really ready? Because this is good.


Sure? You're ready now?


Okay....



I weigh 215lbs! I've lost 5lbs since I started this bullshit. And you know what, it has gotten easier. I'm using MyFitnessPal to track what I eat, and what exercise I do and it's starting to show. The other day I ordered a salad from McDonald's (shut up... It was my only option at that time. Unless I chose not to eat at all.) Before when I'd ordered the salads at fast food places, I'd eat it, and then still be hungry. But I got halfway through it and was uncomfortably full, so I just tossed the rest. And totally had guilt over it because you know there are starving kids out there who would have loved to have had that salad you thankless horrible person! Gah... Yes that actually went through my mind.
I totally should have been Catholic, I have a very well developed sense of guilt. I'd have fit in perfectly. I feel guilty for everything. Kill a spider? Guilt. Eat meat? Guilt. Squirt my cat with water for peeing in my plants? Guilt!
I'm totally rambling now. FOCUS!

So obviously this method of accountability is working for me, which is fantastic. I still need to get a treadmill, and I want one very badly because we're getting into the rainy part of the year here, and I don't want to lose any ground. I may just start jogging in place like a derpface with the blinds drawn so no one looks in and reports someone having a seizure in their apartment.

Copy & Paste!

So the rest of what follows is a re-post from my old blog. I stole the idea from Lauren, so if you hate it... well don't blame her because she's super adorable, and sweet. You can't hate her even if you try, and I don't know why you'd try.. you awful person. 

So, it has been a while since I've updated on here. But since very very few people are reading this, it's okay. :P Seven has fully recovered from her owie, and her claw has grown back in with no issues. There was some concern that it might curve into her paw when it grew back in, but no. It's perfectly normal.

The cats still steal our food, like tiny, fur-covered bandits. But there are added distractions now. Like birds. And fish. Oh yes, nothing is quite so amazing as the 50 gallon fish tank in our dining room. Especially Betty. Betty is a black moor goldfish. (Is she really a "gold"fish if she's black? Discuss.) And for some reason, Data and Seven are obsessed with her. Not that we don't have other fish in the tank mind you. But they only want to harass Betty.

When we first got the 50 gallon, Seven decided to throw herself into it. While it was full of water. I watched it happen, in slow motion. Time ground down slowly, like bullet-time, as I watched her put her tiny paws on the top, and heave herself up and over. Her little body slid over the lip, and into the water, where her head immediately dunked itself under the surface. I don't think she was expecting the water, for surely she'd have requested tiny water-wings if so. Her eyes bugged wide open and she flailed frantically for a mere half a second before surfacing and scrambling out of the tank of kitten doom. It seemed so much longer than it really was. I can still picture her face as she realised what had just happened. She blamed me for it too. I could tell in her eyes as she licked herself off. Why had I not warned her? Why had I not stopped her? I tried to explain that I would have, but it happened so fast... unfortunately I couldn't stop laughing long enough to make words.

Soon, we added an occupant to the tank, which was Betty. She must have thought that she'd won the fishy lotto, since she was the only occupant of the 50gal for a number of days. Seven and Data would both sit on the table in front of the tank, and watch her swim, like fans at the slooowest tennis match ever. Back and forth, back and forth. Eventually though, all good things end, and we moved Betty into her actual home, which was a 10gal "hospital tank". That's how she acquired her name btw. She's "Nurse Betty". Seven's obsession finds new heights with the move, while Data's shifts to the birds outside, as the weather has by this time warmed up some, and the birds have returned en masse to the feeder outside our window. (The fact that I bought peanuts for the chipmunks and squirrels may have also contributed...)

Here's Seven with Betty                                      

We added fish to the large tank, and everything was going swimmingly (hurr) until one day when I had the lid to Betty's tank off, to feed her. Seven had forgotten the very important lesson she'd learned while she was inside the water of the big tank. Namely that water is wet, and she doesn't like it when it's deep.

So once again, swimming cat.

Unfortunately, this time around, we had a minor casualty. Betty sustained an injury, and the water of the hospital tank was now really yucky with cat fur. So I had to put Betty in the larger tank to recover from her injury, which is the opposite of how that shit is supposed to work, for reasons I'm about to disclose.

Betty developed a serious infection in the wound, and contracted ich. Shortly thereafter, everyone else in our tank had it. It's like freeking herpes or something... jesus. It really spreads fast. The rainbows were just COVERED in it, and the pleco succumbed within days of infection. A quick eulogy and a burial at sea followed. (It was lovely, many kind words were spoken and tears shed. We had bad wine and lemon cake afterwards during the wake)

They're all fine now (except the plec, of course... though I suppose he's fine too now. In fishy heaven, or the vast nothingness of the tea-time of the soul) and once she was all healthy Betty showed her true colors.

She is a horrible, horrible vandal.

She methodically made a route around the tank, and chewed through all of the stems of the plants I had put in the tank. The real plants. No plastic things for my tank, no sir. She's eaten about $45 worth of plants at this point, I think. I'm not sure what to do about her now. I thought about trading her to the pet store I bought her at, in exchange for credit towards another fish, but Seven loves her so much. (Loves? Hates? Wants to eat?.. I don't know. We'll go with it.) So I'm considering putting her back in the 10gal, but then she'll be lonely. Am I putting too much thought into this? Probably.

In other news, Sean has a full time job as a bartender at a really awesome new restaurant. The downside of this was that Data was home alone, all day, for a few days. So last Sunday, he felt he needed to talk to me about this.

When Data "talks to me" about issues he has, it usually takes the form of peeing. Thankfully it's never on the carpets, or the walls like some male cats will do. But it's always very clear.

Like the last time he had an issue with me, he dragged a towel around the living room, until it was in front of his litter box. He then proceeded to pee all over the towel. When I tried to pick him up to stop him, he just looked at me and kept peeing.

"Do you see what I'm peeing mom? I'm peeing my anger."

Turns out I had forgotten to clean his litter box for a day or two. Unacceptable, mom. And he let me know it.

Well, he had issue with dad not being home, so while I was getting ready for work, he tried to pee in my potted palms. I caught him, and wrapped plastic over the tops, so he couldn't dig in the rocks. He watched me do this, and then when he was SURE I was paying attention, peed in his cat bed.

Not really sure what he was thinking, since it's HIS bed, but hell I'd rather he do that than pee all over mine!

It's better now, as Sean is going into work at around 4pm, and I'm home by 5:30, but he's watching us in case we shirk our duties to him again.

 Wrapping Up

If you guys are interested in fish as well as cats, I can do a post next time about the tank, and how it looks today. I really want to say "Leave a comment on what you'd like me to post about next" but my blog isn't big enough for that... 

Yet.

Till next time folks!  

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

Alone I Break

(Not a funny, or cute post today folks. Feel free to skip this one if you only come for cat photos, or laughter)

My anxiety is worse today. We recieved an email from our landlord saying he'd like to speak with us about our lease. Now, it's probably nothing. I mean, I think we're good tenants (if we're not, the other people here have said nothing) and we have always paid our rent on time. But I'm in a horrible panic over it now.
Of course, I also sometimes hide in the hallway when he mows the lawn, because that's the only place in our home besides our closet that doesn't have windows. So... Yeah.

My hands are shaking, I'm sick to my stomach, and I barely slept last night. I burst into tears for no reason this morning. I hate this so much. I feel like a prisoner inside my head.
I understand this though. The anxiety will be followed by a crushing depression, or if I'm really lucky, I will have both at the same time. I'd say it's like a dear friend, whom you know well... But this is not my friend. A friend has warm connotations of comfort, and support. This is like the whip you know too well. You know the pain, you know the burning it leaves behind it. You remember the smell of your own fear, tears and blood that it leaves in its wake. You know it so well, that you forget to fear it sometimes. You forget that there were times when you were not subjected to its abuses. You forget that it doesn't have to be this way.

Honestly, though I know that it really DOESN'T have to be like this, I can barely remember a time when it wasn't. I can recall all the way back to Elementary school, waking up in the morning, and vomiting because I couldn't stand the idea of sitting in that classroom. I wasn't bullied, I was teased maybe a little, because I was shy, and awkward, and overweight. But for the most part, the other kids merely ignored me. And I ignored them, spending my recess period reading a book in the grass rather than playing.
High school was the same, despite the fact that I lost my baby chub, and was moderately popular, with many friends. I would just suddenly panic at the very idea of going to school. I wasn't even a bad student! I don't think my mom had ever heard of Generalized Anxiety Disorder, so no one knew how to help me. (By the way, that link was sort of alarming for me, as that laundry list of symptoms is basically a run down of my day to day existence) We sort of just thought I was a sick kid. I didn't realize.

It wasn't until after my son was born, and my fiancee left me that we realized there was anything wrong. I had an attack so severe that I was convinced I couldn't breathe. I thought I was dying. I was terrified, and... it was awful. I can remember the feeling of dying, of thinking I was dying.

*pauses for a deep breath and a sip of tea*

They put me on medication after that, which quite honestly made everything worse. I was given Paxil, and also Valium. Which seems to me in retrospect, a bad decision by the doctor. After a few months, I quit taking them, because while I didn't feel anxious about anything, I didn't feel anything at all. Not even when my little boy would cuddle me. Afterwards, I wasn't covered by any sort of health care, so I haven't been on medication for this for... *thinks* 14 years.
Wow. That's a long time.

I want to beat this demon. I want to be okay. I want to feel safe, without having to make my husband stop everything he's doing and hold me.
Did you know I don't drive? I don't. I want to, but I don't. Every time I get behind the wheel of a vehicle, I become certain that I am going to kill someone with the beast of steel that I have been put in charge of. Ironically, my husband says that when I forget to be afraid of driving, I'm an excellent driver, with no real bad habits to speak of.
Not driving limits my life in so many ways. There's so much I want to do, but I'm hampered by the limits of public transportation. I've been wanting to go to Chicago, and see the aquarium there, but I haven't because I would need to drive there, or make my husband drive me there.
I hate this.

Well, at least this has been cathartic for me. I feel a little better. I still have knots in my stomach, but the tightness in my chest has eased. I can't eat, but I can breathe now. *laughs*

Anyone who also deals with this, please know you're not alone. It's okay, you're not weak, and you're not "crazy". It doesn't have to beat you. We can walk this path together, and come out into the light.

Tiny Trips to the Tiny Vet for a Tiny Cat

Seven Has An Owie


So, Seven, while she is probably the cutest cat I've ever seen (forgive me, I suppose that most people think their kittens are the cutest, like parents all think their kid is the cutest, or the smartest, or whatever) however, she's not the brightest kitten. She gets into some remarkably silly things. And ends up in some troublesome situations.
As I mentioned in my last post, she has only been to the vet once, and it was entirely her own fault. I thought we had another visit lined up when she stepped on the burner of the stove the other day, but thankfully she wasn't there long enough, and the burner had cooled enough that while I'm sure it didn't feel good, there was no damage.

Silly creature.


We didn't witness it happen, so we can't be certain what occurred, but I noticed Seven's paw was wet, so I went to dry it off. That's when I realized it was blood on her paw.
Upon further inspection, she was missing her dewclaw... all of it. It wasn't broken, it wasn't just injured, it was gone. All that was left was a bloody stub.
I cleaned it the best I could, and looked online for what to do. Some of the suggestions were to keep an eye on it, and see how it does. In retrospect I realize that this is for a partially broken claw, but we hadn't picked a vet for her yet, so we thought we'd give it a day and see how she did. She was obviously not bothered by it at all, since she was playing, and eating as normal.
I think she must have caught it in the carpet of her cat tree, and then perhaps fallen from it. It's the only thing I can think of, since the rest of our home is fairly cat-proofed.
After a day of observation, it had scabbed over and looked clean, so I just kept cleaning it with warm water, and then started searching for a vet. We found one, and we made an appointment, but we had to wait two days.
At her vet visit I was glad when the vet told me I'd done exactly the right thing. She gave Seven and antibiotic shot, and informed us that she'd done such a good job of removing the claw herself, that they didn't need to do surgery. *laughs*
It was a month or two before it grews back all the way, but she's doing just fine. 

Data
It seems unfair that I spend so much time talking about Seven, however, Data is just such a good boy. He's such a love, and so gentle. I've never had scratches from him (my husband has a HUGE one right now, but that's another story).
Though, I do wish he'd quit having a wee in my cacti... -_-
Here's some photos to admire of our beautiful Data.

Diet and Exercise 

 I've been just awful the past 2-3 days. And my husband is NO HELP AT ALL! He totally had me bake chocolate chip cookies last night. And I make some awesome cookies. They're moist, soft, and melt in your mouth. So what I'm saying here is I made them, and ate two of them.

*sighs*

So, I think what I'm learning from keeping this blog, is my Number One, is my Number One Enabler. I'm being good today so far though. I've had tomato soup for lunch, and a banana.

...and only one cookie.

Anxiety

Woke up with a bad attack of anxiety this morning, which was bad. But at least for once I know the source! My son goes back home to North Carolina tomorrow, and I go back to work. I don't want my kid to leave, but he has school to get back to, and friends. I also know that nothing will have gotten done while I was on vacation, so it's a good thing I enjoyed this week, because I used up all of my time off for a while, and I'll have to play catch up like hell.

It makes me angry, and frustrated with myself that I feel like hiding all the time. Just this rock solid dread sitting in the middle of my chest making it difficult to think, or breathe. I tell myself that I am an AWESOME person, who has had really AMAZING experiences. I am smart, and funny, and people seem to genuinely like me. I try to remind myself that I am capable, clever and that I've always managed to handle anything and everything that people have thrown at me, usually without breaking a sweat. But I have a hard time believing myself most days.

The weird thing is that while I was bouncing around from place to place (and country to country in some cases) I never worried about things. I was alright, as long as I had a little money, and a way to get a hold of a friend. It's real life I can't seem to get a hold of.

Being a grown-up blows.

Signing off?

I feel like I should have a way of ending each blog, like a catchphrase... Hmph. What do you guys think?

It's The Little Things In Life... (with photos)

I Feel Hungover

But I'm not. I somehow woke up with a queasy stomach, and a headache despite not drinking. Perhaps it's the ghost of my younger days, when I would drink until I could barely see and then wake up fresh as a daisy the next morning, coming back to haunt me. I also managed to hyperextend my right knee while making the bed last night... don't ask me how, I'm just that freeking graceful. Despite all this, I plan on going for a very nice walk today. I still don't have my treadmill for my exercise and I'm behind on my goals. So walking it is!
Thankfully we have some beautiful biking trails around this city, so I'm going to walk along those, and probably chase some frogs, or lizards.

Because I do that sort of crap.

Easter Weekend

So I hope everyone had a fantastic weekend, no matter if you celebrate Easter, Passover or just the awesomeness of having a bloody long weekend. I'm not religious in any real way, but Sunday was my birthday, so we celebrated! WOO!
My mother-in-law (who is religious) decided to make twice the food apparently, so we could have two celebrations at once. There was enough to feed a squad of US Marines.. no joke. There was also two cakes, and a pie at the end of it. Shockingly, I didn't gain weight that day. Neither did I lose any, but I considered it a minor miracle anyway.

My son, who flew in from his dad's in North Carolina for Spring Break, ate till he popped, and then fell into a food coma on the sofa, while the oldies chatted over our pieces of sugary goodness. (I had the red velvet cake YUM) He's gotten pretty damned tall, this child of mine, and is becoming an adult before my eyes. Makes me feel old, and sad. I want to hug him back to being a little boy again.

It's not the most flattering photo, sorry. But you can see the shaved head really well. I can hardly argue about the hair, by the way, since when I was his age I shaved my head in the exact same manner. So I decided to handle it the same way my mother did.
"It's your head. You have to live with it until it grows out."
It takes all the fun out of rebellion when your parents don't care. ;) I had taken it a step further, and dyed it colors, but he declined when I offered to make his hair blue and green to match Easter eggs. Boy, I sure know how to ruin his fun. *grins*

He looks like a young (drug-free) Sid Vicious here.

 Also part of the Easter fun was the brand new puppy that my mother-in-law got. Her name is Daisy, and she's a pure-bred Golden Retriever. I personally wouldn't ever pay for a pure-bred, because not only have her dogs cost her arms and legs, and most of her internal organs to start with, they also have more health issues than any mutt I have ever owned. They are very well loved dogs though, and she can afford the medical costs, while my husband and I cannot. As a matter of fact, we've only had to take our "pound kitties" to the vet once for something outside of their usual wellness check ups for their shots. (I'll post about that next time though, as it's a pretty funny story.)
Now, since everyone loves puppy pictures, and Daisy is without a doubt the most "AWWW" inducing puppy I have ever met... Without further ado: Daisy.

Mini-Sid with Daisy

My gorgeous husband (Also known as "Number One") with Daisy

If your head doesn't explode from cute, you should see a doctor.

Spring Cleaning!

Yesterday  I made a list of stuff to take care of around the house for my annual spring cleaning marathon, since for the first time since ...well, for the first time in my memory actually, I have the whole week off at home. I took the week off to be with my boy, so I figured we could use it to clean as well as spend time together. (because I'm REALLY not good with idle time. Blogging helps me with this, I need shit to do.)
One of the things on my list was to wash all my linens, and then fold and put them away again. The Winter sheets sets get wrapped in plastic, and stored with a dryer sheet or two, and the Summer sheets get pulled out of the same plastics, washed and placed on the beds, or put on the linen shelf for later. Now I know most people find folding the fitted sheets difficult, and I did too until I developed my technique for folding. I thought that I would help everyone by sharing this great way to fold that I developed myself. If it helps you out, please let me know in the comments!

That's all there is to it!

I'm sure I had more to talk about, but now all I can think about is that it's nearly 1pm, and I haven't started my walk yet, or had anything to eat. So until next time, when we'll discuss my cat's vet visit, and perhaps post photos from the walk.

Oh, Captain! My, Captain!

Busy As A Bee

Sorry, I swear I'm not dead, just very very busy.

For the first time in many years, I had a four day weekend. My husband and I drove up with his dad and sister and spent the whole weekend with his Aunt and Uncle in St. Paul Minnesota. It was my first time in the twin cities where I got to explore a bit.
His uncle's house was GORGEOUS! A restored historical home near Summit Ave, and it was the most beautiful home I think I've ever been in. Marble counters in the bathrooms, skylights in our guestroom.. lovely.

Next week my son will be with me for the whole week, and I'm taking time off of work to focus on him. But I'm sure I'll have time to post here.

Dieting

I'm still doing well on my diet. I lost some ground in St. Paul, what with all the eating out at restaurants. But not too much ground. I'm down to 219, and I had gotten to 218. I think I can make that up in a day or two with exercise and watching my binging. Which may be difficult as my birthday falls on Easter this year, so cake and candy will be every-fucking-where! Wheee!

Moderation, everything in moderation. 

I will post more later on, in the meantime here's some geek affirmation. If you're unfamiliar with The Guild, you should watch them. They're on netflix I think, or you can watch them here.

Modern Art Vs. Me

On Track? 

So, I've been pretty decent about my food intake, but less so about my alcohol intake. Which as we all (sadly) know has plenty of calories in it's own right. So, because I need to pay attention to this crap, I loaded up MyFitnessPal on my phone (again) and I started using it (again) today.

Today I was actually pretty awful. Not in a binge-eating way though. I forgot my lunch at home, and then got so busy at work that I never got a chance to eat lunch. The result was that by the time I got home from work at 5:30, all I had consumed was 300 calories for the whole day. I ate a half cup of macaroni salad when I got home because I felt a little light-headed, and now I'm defrosting skinless chicken breasts for dinner. I'll probably make up a green salad to go with it, and have strawberries for dessert.

Tonight I plan on shopping online for a treadmill, so I can walk or jog indoors. I don't much want to take long walks by myself, and anyway I get bored by myself, even though I love being outside. So treadmill it is!

Tripping

This weekend I'm off with my husband, my sister-in-law, and my father-in-law to Minneapolis. We're all staying with family, and a trip to the Mall of America is planned. In case you're unaware of this ghastly behemoth, it is the Church of Consumerism, the Capital of Corporations. It is Conspicuous Spending at it's ugliest. it also has a rollercoaster, so count me in! Sean plans on going to the Lego Store where you can play with every lego set ever made, and they have huge bins of lego pieces. I want to stop in at Lush which is my favorite place ever to shop. Anything handmade and beautiful smelling is there. And I love my bath stuff a whole lot.
Did I mention my birthday is coming up? Guess how I'm treating myself.

The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art

Okay, so this could actually be called "Why I'm never allowed to return to the SFMOMA" and probably should be, but whatever.
So a group of friends of mine and myself all ended up at the SFMOMA. It's been long enough that I can't remember everyone who was there right now, but I know for sure my BF was because she was in on this. As always.
I have never been a fan of Modern Abstract art. Some of it seems to me like they're just going out of their way to be either incomprehensible or disgusting. And if you say "I think this is gross." they crow about how it's supposed to offend you. And if you say "This is stupid, and I don't get it." you're "incapable of understanding it's complexities."  Perhaps both statements are true. I'm willing to say maybe I'm offended because I don't understand it. Or maybe you're just full of shit.

So this was the mentality I went in to the SFMOMA with... probably was doomed from the start in retrospect.
I remember some of the exhibits were interesting, but the one that sticks with me was a series of naked men, sitting on stools blowing spit bubbles. The photos were beautifully composed, and lit... even if I didn't "get" it.
I hadn't been in the museum long when the drama started. I was looking at a statue (I don't even remember what the hell it was now) and I pointed out something to my BF. Out of no where a security guard appears.

Guard: You can't touch the art.
Me: I wasn't...
Guard: Back away from the art.

He followed us around a bit, and then I lost sight of him. A little bit later I was waiting for friends to finish looking at a piece, and I leaned against the blank wall near the doorway.

Guard: Ma'am, you are too close to the exhibit!
Me: *looks at the exhibit 12 feet away from me* Really?
Guard: Don't make me warn you again.

Now my feathers are ruffled. I know he's just doing his job, and it's probably a thankless bullshit job at that, but Really? So out popped my snark. A few rooms later, when I see that he's still behind us, I walked over to a bench in front of an exhibit and smirked at him.

Me: Can I sit here? Or is this a masterpiece too?

He didn't rise to my bait, sadly.

Near the end of the museum there were two artwork exhibits that really sort of pissed me off. I mean... what the fuck. One was a single canvas of solid blue. The other was three completely white panels. That's all they were. Solid. White. Panels.
So there I was standing in front of the white panels. Just staring. Flabbergasted. And BF says:

BF: So, how do these make you feel?
Me: Like I wish I had brought a sharpie...

And that was when I was herded out of the MOMA!

I was also tossed out of the deYoung Museum, but not because I didn't like the exhibits. Apparently cellphones will damage the artwork, and are not allowed, even if you're a panicked parent who is hurrying for the exit because your child has just been injured. Because, yanno.. the fucking artwork man.

*grins*

I'm Getting Dirty

Out of the Zone

Oh man... I did something today that is WAY outside of my comfort zone.

I signed up for the Dirty Girl Mud Run.

I hate running, but this is more like an obstacle course plus it's for a good cause. Breast Cancer. Plus, I get to roll in the mud, which sounds kind of awesome.

http://www.godirtygirl.com/

I have such a hard time making friends right now though, and I don't get out much, so I felt like this was a chance to break out of my rut. Do something that's good for me, even if it makes me uncomfortable. I'm already regretting it, but that's probably a good sign as it means that I'm doing something besides video games. >.>

My blog readers can be my cheerleaders! I will keep you posted on here.

Diet News

My husband had left the house while I was typing up my last post, and just shortly after I finished it, he returned... With a red velvet cake. *sighs*
I was good though, and only took a small sliver of it. I've allowed myself a very small slice every day, but only one, and it has been VERY small. But it's enough. It tricks me into thinking I'm still not dieting, and makes me happy to have that to look forward to all day.

The wonderful bookkeeper I work for at the lab took me out to lunch yesterday, to Noodles & Company and I ordered the small Med Salad despite how much I love their pastas in cream sauces. I was pretty proud of myself. Jan told me I was doing such a great job at work, that she felt like getting me out of the store. Happy!

I've been good about my meals at home as well. Last night I had a half cup of cooked couscous with a teaspoon of olive oil and cracked pepper, and 6 oz of grilled chicken. And I made myself a smoothie to drink with half a mango, a cup of frozen blueberries and blackberries, a half cup of yoghurt, and cranberry crystal light instead of juice or milk. There was enough for three serving from that, I had a small glass of it (half a pint) and my husband drank the rest.
Was I good? I dunno, I forgot to weigh myself this morning. However I feel like I did better, so it's a start. I would have normally probably made burgers, or ordered a pizza, then had soda with it. Followed by chips later. So yeah, an improvement I think.

I want a baby, Husband says "NO!"

Not a real baby. A kitten. Or a puppy, I'm not picky. But my husband says that we "don't need another one. Two is enough."
Then he reminds me that I spoil the shit out of the cats we have, and that to share that attention at this point would probably break their hearts. Which makes me feel guilty.
I don't sleep well, so I suppose having a third cat to poke me all night would be even worse, but I can't help but stare at photos of tiny baby kittens in need of homes and my heart breaks because I cannot save all the animals in the whole world. If I am ever rich, I will donate all but what I need for basic survival to rescuing, and finding homes for all the sad, and abused animals in the world.

Because I'm a crazy cat lady.

Until next time!

Starting My Journey With You

So tonight I had my husband take some photos of me at my "Before" weight. I've been trying to watch what I eat for a week or two now, but I always end up discouraged, and then I think "Ah fuck it" and binge on ice cream.

It has to end.

So I'm going to post here, and hopefully it will help me to identify any binge triggers, and keep me focused on my goal. I currently weight (takes a deep breath) 220lbs. Ugh...... I hate it. Would you believe I used to model? It's true.

That's me at age 15. Here's another taken just after my 16th birthday.

Now I weighed about 110lbs there. I won't try to get down that far. I'd be happy at about 150-160. I'd be healthy at that weight, and that's really what I'm after. So, here goes the photo of me now.

Ugh... Not what I want to look like, at all. (btw, that's my son's room I'm standing in. I don't have Mario Bros. posters in MY room... I have like, Dragon Age and Portal... I have standards yanno. >_>)

For dinner tonight we grilled chicken breasts, in seasoning, and had rice. For lunch I had a green salad with a little chicken on it, and breakfast was yogurt and granola. I'm going to start keeping track of how big my portions are, but I'm already spending my days hungry. I ate dinner at 7pm, and now at 11pm my stomach is growling already.

My next step is to start doing more physical activity. As the weather is getting nicer, I will start walking home from work in the evenings, instead of catching the bus. Also, because I love to watch movies, I want to get a treadmill and I will be happy to walk, or jog on it while the tv is going. It will distract me from the fact that I hate to jog.

I want to wear something cute, and pretty. I want to dress fashionable. And it might sound shallow, but I want guys to stop me in the street and compliment me. It used to happen. It doesn't anymore.

I'm going to reward myself with an entirely new, and more expensive wardrobe when I have lost the weight. Also, I plan on having my entire back tattooed in poppies. Why poppies? Why not?

PS, I would cut you for a doughnut. I mean that.

<3 Till next time!

Jelly Belly: The Journey From Tubby To Tiny

This is a repost from my old blog.

So we have nicknames for our cats, Data we tend to refer to as "Pants" which is short for 'Crazypants'. Seven we call "Tinycat" for obvious reasons (She's about a third of Data's size).


Well, she won't be tiny for much longer if she keeps up her food consumption. She will eat until the bowl is empty, so we're having to feed her careful amounts. As a result, she will follow us around, mewing piteously, trying to convince us that she is just simply STARVING! When we don't listen, she will try to feed herself. Data will often help her by opening the cabinet door for her, and holding them open, while she gets into the bag of cat food. We then tried leaving their bag of food into a wall cupboard, where, in theory, they wouldn't be able to get to it. Alas, all this accomplished was a lot of banging as they batted at the door from the counter top. So we've since put their food into the linen closet, which has a doorknob. All of their plans come to nothing for want of thumbs.


Seven, however, was undaunted! She had to check the sink area, in case we had forgotten some little tidbit of food she could gobble down. Mind you, there are a few dirty dishes in the sink... I'm bad, I know. But in any case, those dirty dishes lead to this conversation in the darkness of the bedroom while we're trying to sleep.


Darling Husband: *listening to the crashing sounds* They're on the sink again.
Me: I'll get them...
*come back with Seven and Data in tow and we all climb into bed*
DH: Oh hi, Tinycat... why are you sticky?!
Me: She was on the sink.
DH: Is that JELLY on her stomach?
Me: Probably...


Just another typical day in our madhouse.


PS:
I tried to embed a video here of the cats, but it seems to be too large. That's what I get for going with HD video, huh? Instead enjoy these photos of Seven in her Holiday sweater.

In other news I've decided to try to keep up with my attempts to lose weight. I feel like if I blog about it here, then I will accountable for my binges. So this will guilt me into sticking with the straight and narrow. So tonight I will take "Current Weight" photos, and then update once a month with photos of my weight fluctuations. Wish me luck!

In Which I Consider Seppuku

Hey there all, so today was a busy day for me. I had intended to buy tulip bulbs, plant them in my pots on our deck, and then paint all day, however... I'm tired, and probably slightly drunk, so here I am instead! YAY!

I did actually paint some today, but I'm sleepy, and not really into it. My dandelions are looking sad, and I think I want a different type of brush. I have round brushes, but I want to get a fan brush and something with a bit of a point. Sooooo, I think I have a trip to the craft store in my very near future.

Now, I know that I promised some tales from my time in Old Blighty, however the other night at our favorite bar, I was exchanging tales with the girlfriend of one of my husband's old friends from school, and I realized I have a horrible, terrible, awful, shameful story to tell, that's pretty hilarious.

Let me set the scene: It was  94 or 95, and it was my birthday. I honestly can't remember if it was my Sweet 16, or my 17th birthday, but it doesn't really matter. My grandmother had allowed me to invite a lot of people over to the house for a BBQ, and we had minimal adult supervision. We were pretty good kids, most of us, and so there wasn't any alcohol at the house (a few may have been drinking a head of time, but none were drinking on location). However, my best friend from High School, we'll call him Seamus, was a cheeky fucker. He was frequently stoned, and would get high and listen to Phantom of the Opera, and debate with me the nuances of meaning of various operas and musicals. Our favorite was Sweeney Todd.
Anyway, he brings over as my birthday present a small jelly roll cake, and he's grinning. With a cartoonish wink he tells me it's a "Special Cake", and that I should share it after the party has died down. I knew this meant it was loaded with pot, and that he intended for us to listen to an opera (probably  "Die Fledermaus ") after we'd eaten some. This was a typical weekend for us when we hung out actually. Not your kids next door, for sure.
Awesome plan, man. I'm down. But let's go eat burgers and hangout with friends first, kay? Kay.

Nope.

About 2 hours later, we get inside to bring out more soda pop, and my gramma has just taken the last bite of a large slice of the cake. HOLY SHIT! I know my face must have looked amazing, because my gramma told me "Well, I didn't eat ALL of your cake!"
"No, it's um.. no problem Gramma. So, uh, how do you feel?"
"I'm fine, except I ran out of medicine*. Your mother is running to get me some, so you behave for me while it's just me here."
Seamus finally recovers and says "Of course Gramma. You know I think things are wrapping up here soon anyway, we'll just go keep an eye on things."

Outside we loose our minds. I know if I say anything, I will be in for a world of hurt, and I don't want to get Seamus in trouble. He's ready to throw himself under the bus and confess, but I decided to wait and see how things went. I was ready to confess to everything the minute anything seemed to be wrong with Gramma, because she was (still is) very important to me.

We sort of quietly managed to get everyone to leave without incident or suspicion after a little while, since it was Easter break and most of my friends had to get back to family stuff anyway. So finally it's just Seamus and I at home with my Gramma and mom. Seamus had packed away as much of the cake as he could, so there wouldn't be anymore accidental casualties, and we're watching tv with my folks waiting to see if the shoe is going to drop.
I'm grinding my teeth, and scared. Not really for myself, because though I'd get in trouble, it wouldn't honestly be MUCH trouble. My mom is sort of a hippie, and believed in child-rearing by positive reinforcement. (read: I ran wild, and was never ever punished). But my Gramma... I would never forgive myself if anything happened to her. I was filled with dreadful visions of anaphylactic shock, or overdose, and it would all be my fault. I had just decided that if my Gramma became really sick because of me, I would commit dramatic seppuku as penance, when she stood up and walked purposefully to the kitchen. Worried, I followed.

I pretneded to be interested in a drink of water and casually asked her "Whatcha doing Gramma? Anything I can help with?"
"Oh no.. I'm just REALLY hungry. Gosh, I just have this feeling like I need to snack on something!"

My face... I wish I could have seen it. I'm sure it was hysterical.

So my Gramma proceeds to decimate the remains of chips, and regular birthday cake, the whole time marveling at how hungry she is. I know I gave Seamus this look at least once:

I eventually (10 years later)confessed to my Gramma exactly what had happened that day, and what she had eaten. She laughed and told me that now she wanted to try to get her doctor to prescribe her medical pot because that was the best she had slept in ages.

*My grandmother calls her whiskey "medicine". She takes a single shot of it before bed, and the occasional small sip after dinner. She claims it's to help her sleep, and now that she's 95 years old, no one wants to argue it with her.

So there's a look into my life. I wasn't a bad kid, I never got in trouble with the law, I never hurt anyone, and I never disrespected anyone's property. But I wouldn't say I was a good kid either...

Till next time!

Adolescents are not monsters.  They are just people trying to learn how to make it among the adults in the world, who are probably not so sure themselves.  ~Virginia Satir, The New Peoplemaking, 1988

I Dream Of England And The Rain

Hi guys! Sorry I've been a little lax in posting. I was being lazy, and also The Husband bought me Portal 2, and I've been utterly ridiculously a wee bit preoccupied with playing it. I love video games, far more than is good for me.
I'm also dieting, with my husband, who by the way probably doesn't need to. It's somewhat frustrating to be married to a dashing, attractive man, when you feel like you look like the stay-puft marshmallow man's mother. Also, I would cut you for a doughnut right now. Seriously, I would.

So I said I would talk about ending up in England.

It was 2004, and my life was imploding. I was married to my first husband, who was addicted to a lovely thing called meth. He also wasn't a very nice person. I won't get in to details, because quite honestly I'm still terrified he'll find me online, and threaten my family (again) so I'll just leave it.

I discovered that he was having an internet affair with a woman in Minnesota. We had a massive argument, and he left. He came back a week later, apologized and said he was going to get his act together, and he was leaving state to do so. He promised that if I would pay for the plane ticket (he was not working, of course) that he would stay with a friend of ours, and get a job, and then send for me. The place he wanted to go was Minnesota.

Yeah.

Well, I'm not stupid, but at this point I was exhausted, and concerned for my son (his step-son) whom I had managed to insulate and protect from the madness so far, but only because he was still a little guy. I knew in my heart I couldn't protect him forever, and I needed the madness to stop. So I smiled, told him I loved him, and bought that god damned airline ticket. I knew I'd never see him again. I knew I was paying to fly him to her arms. I just didn't care anymore.

After that I was at loose ends. I felt like I couldn't stay where I was anymore. My son's father was in Iraq, and my son was a bit distressed. My son's step-mother offered, in what must have been one of the most surprising phone calls ever, to have my son and I move in with her and her daughter (my son's half-sister). I don't know if it was my mood, or everything... but I accepted.

So I lived in the South for months, and that's a WHOLE 'nother blog entry, and she and I made decent co-parents I think. Eventually though I knew I couldn't stay. I didn't enjoy the area much, and being on a military base all the time was not my cup of tea. (no offense to the people in uniform, I love you guys, but it wasn't for me) My ex was home on leave, so we talked and decided to let our son decide where he wanted to stay. We both felt like it was better for him to stay on base though, as he's just been diagnosed with Asperger's, and the schooling was miles better than where I was in California. I'm from the ghetto, nawhaddymean? In the end, my son asked to stay there. My heart was broken. I cried for days where no one could see. I still cry when I think about that day. His sweet little face, being such a little man about it, taking it as seriously as any kid ever did. *pauses to wipe off face* I love my kid more than anything in the world, and it never gets better.

I moved back home, but when I got there it appeared that my grandmother had let my aunt move into my bedroom. So here I was, lost, alone and sleeping on the couch in my childhood home.

Hmm, I should back up and explain a little bit. I was during all this time part of a thriving online community which you might have heard of, deviantArt, and I was very active on there in the social life. I had made some very good friends there (most of which who I am still extremely close to to this day). One of them is the still sickeningly fantastic artist Nykolai Aleksander, whom I love dearly. At the time she (yes, She. Nykolai is a woman) had just split with her boyfriend, and suggested I come stay with her for a little while. Oh and did I mention she was in London? Of fucking course I said yes.
We'd never met face to face though, so I should have been wary. I wasn't. I jumped in both feet first with all the joy of a kid discovering a toy store for the first time.

And thus started one of the best times of my life. A golden year if you will. How Nyko put up with me for that long is completely beyond me, and she still for some reason seems to love me in return.

 Taken from a friend's FB account. I did not take this photo, and I'm not sure who did. But as soon as I do I will give credit.

I'll have to leave out my misadventures in other lands for a different blog post, but I'll leave you with the teaser: I wind up in Amsterdam.