I spent all this time away from blogging to watch tear jerking all the good anime on Netflix. So good. So good.
I did set up my new 40 gallon breeder. This is one of the first layouts I had. It has changed a million times. I’ll do a separate photo dump dedicated to fish later.
I got a new 20 gallon long thanks to another $1 per gallon sale at Petco. I wanted it for Zenith, but I gave it to the kids instead. They wanted painted backgrounds.
Josh had a birthday. He is 9. MY BABY IS 9 YEARS OLD.
We celebrate Magnus’ birthday at the same time we celebrate Josh’s.
My carpal tunnel, or supposed carpal tunnel, is in full swing.
I’m cross stitching which is actually not the only thing contributing to the pain. Writing, typing, carrying heavy things, living, dying–all of these things seem to bring pain equally. I get to call a neurologist tomorrow for an appointment and maybe a conductivity test for my nerves.
FACT: I started this blog entry on 8/12 and forgot all about it. So here goes a filler post before a filler post. Fillerpostception.
AKA: Jakey, Jake-Jake, Jake-Face, Toothy, Fluffypants, Jake from State Farm
DOB: c. June 2012
Adopted: June 12,2013
Weight: 14 lbs
Breed: Norwegian Forest Cat mix
Known litter mates: BK
chin scratches ear massage
the bottom left (foot) of the bed
the top level of his cat tree
trying to get outside
chittering at birds and squirrels
sleeping on clean laundry
eating foam (foam mats, flip-flop sandals, Nerf darts, etc)
hugs while I’m on the toilet
his green wool and catnip mouse
store bought toys
pulling on his long white ear hair
being picked up unless he asks
plastic bag noises
being in the car
my face in his face this vine
being closed out of the bedroom because if not this happens all night:
Not too terribly much more to say about Jake. He’s loving and sweet and a lap cat cuddler. He wants your full attention, regardless of computer, book, child, or food in your hands. He loves to sneak outside but just huddles on the sidewalk or under the hedges and meows. He howls like he’s dying but he just wants everyone to know that he killed his toy mouse for the 3,487th time. This generally happens first thing in the morning, dinner time, and in between the hours of 12-3 AM. He’s a creature of habit. He is seriously crazy when it comes to catnip. I clean his right eye of gunk every day. The left side never has an issue. He doesn’t give a shit about the fish tanks but he loves the smell of fish food. He sneaks licks of coconut oil from the lid of the jar and the ends of my hair. I use it for my hair and skin, not for cooking.
The kids love love love made up stories and Jake has been the protagonist in many a tale. One thing that never really changes is his primary (cover) profession: biscuit maker. Jake has an amazing factory where he makes every kind of biscuit imaginable. Sometimes he has to go away because he’s needed for his ninja skills. I think only once did I make Jake the bad guy because ‘Hey, diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle…” He had to make money, so he played a stolen violin on the street corner for money. Soon he had enough to pay for a new violin and for whatever the reason was that he needed money in the first place. He really does lead an interesting life, that one.
Once he had a a terrible stomach illness, probably brought on by eating foam like an asshole. Diarrhea. So much diarrhea. When nictitating tissue is inflamed or doesn’t retract, it’s a huge red flag. I had to cook him chicken breast and brown rice for a week. He was a mess. I was in tears; just so overwhelmed and scared to death that this was going to be another Boris. He made a full recovery and we threw out all the Nerf darts and hide all the foam floor mats. Fyi, cat proofing a house is a bigger pain in the ass than baby proofing.
The rest of the time, he’s busy just being a cat. He’s very chatty. When he wants to be picked up, he doesn’t care if I’m on the toilet, eating dinner, teaching or any combination of the three. He’s shredded my shoulder on many occasion. He comes when he’s called, he suffocates me with love and a copious amount of fur. Love, love, love.
I mean, I guess today is October as well. October, too. October Two.
I’m not done with my story, but I’m a real slackass if you haven’t noticed. In the mean time, let me tell you about October first. October, first.
Autumn is my favorite time of year. Period. Winter is a super close second and only gets second place because it comes so late in the year. Autumn is the time for knitting, football, pumpkin pie everything, Halloween, Thanksgiving and FOOD. The cooler weather is the herald of hibernation season and it is the time for stews and chilies. I had decided that October First would hence be known as Chili Day. Truthfully, I was planning on making chili like, every day before that day but it was so stupid hot. You can eat chili when it’s in the upper 80s, but why would you want to? Long story short: Wednesday was the first and I was bound and determined to make some goddamned chili.
And then disaster struck.
Meat, sausage, onions, and garlic in the pot. Making good sounds and good smells. Time for dry ingredients: chili powder, flour, salt, all the other stuff. Bullshit thing number 1: I was out of chili powder. What in the holy hell? I’ve got 4 lbs of meat cooking on the stove and no chili powder. I’m the worst. THE WORST.
I decide I’m going to mix the rest of the stuff so everything is ready and prepared: 1. go to the store, 2. get chili powder, 3. ?, 4. profit. Time was ticking because Wednesday is Tae Kwon Do day and chili takes forever if you want it to be chili-y so I was scrambling. Time to add the salt to the dry mix! Yay! Open the mini metal drawbridge on the cardboard can and pour. Then the real fucking disaster struck:
This. Thing. Was. In. The. Salt. The can was closed. THIS THING WAS ALIVE. Suddenly, salt. Salt everywhere. This piece of shit stink bug flew up towards my face and by sheer force of will and screaming did it fall down into the bowl again with the flour and everything else but chili powder. I had to flush a bowl of flour and bug into the toilet. I was over 9000% done. NO chili powder. The meat was cooled and put in the fridge and I made chili today sans motherfucking flying stink bug and it was delicious.
Today also marked the first trip to the eye doctor in 3 years. The glasses I have been wearing are at least one year older than that–my prescription wasn’t that different and I wore contacts most of the time so there was no real reason to buy glasses. I have been meaning to go, and I desperately needed to. I am near-sighted with astigmatism and I couldn’t see the damn cable guide from the bed. SRS BSNS. Also, as I was laying in the dark, I noticed that my right eye’s vision was obscured by a shadow. Not a floater, not a solid black, but a shadow. My left eye was fine. I panicked, looked in the mirror, shined lights in my eyes, used eye drops, sacrificed a goat–the whole nine yards. I was crying because I was sure I was going blind.
The doctor was great, checked everything, not going blind. Did not have a retinal detachment. Did not have glaucoma. Could not confirm if I saw a ghost. Two out of three ain’t bad. The astigmatism in my right eye was literally double the amount of bad it was last time (I have no idea how they measure it, but it was double) AND I could probably use some reading glasses. Yay. She was funny though, “as we become more wise…” instead of “bitch you old”. Free pair of contacts. Much like the first shot of heroin is free to try because YOU WILL DEFINITELY NEED MORE.
I have other medical conditions that can screw up my eye-bowls so I always get them dilated whether I want contact lenses or not (I doooo). It is always hilarious because I always feel like this:
For those of you with eyes that actually work, they put drops in your eyes that sting just a smidge and after about 10 minutes you can’t read a thing. Too much light going into your eye. The best part was having my seven year old was read the price tags of the frames and lamenting the cost (why are they over $200? That’s crazy!) and critiquing every pair I picked up.
Not enough color.
I also got to wear the cool sunglasses they give you when your eyes are dilated, and by sunglasses, I mean a strip of curled darkened plastic that wraps around your head. I looked awesome, as always. So all in all, a decent day.
I will update and finalize my hospital experience soon. In the mean time I’m just trying to live this life.
It’s been over a year since Borisdied. It has been so difficult, even with Wendy. Wendy is great. That wiener has literally healed my heart in only the way an animal can. I was incredibly lucky to find her. But now, after all the rest of the last year’s losses and this year’s drama, I just needed something else.
I am still looking for things, but just this past Tuesday I received a sign from…Facebook:
I brought Wendy and the kids to the vet the next day to meet Jake.
So Jake is the newest member of our family. He’s still skittish around the two noise machines, but three days later, he is quite comfortable climbing me. Did I mention that he’s probably a Maine Coon, or at least part? And he’s chatty as shit? Our conversations go like this:
So what if Part 2 was two weeks ago? More random goodness:
1. I have been inundated with other people’s creativity lately. I want to make all the things, but I’m lazy and guilty that I’m not working on things that I should. Having said that, the above picture is definitely in the category of “things I don’t want to make ever”. I don’t remember where or when I found these, but I had no idea that murderous clowns and luchadores were so popular, even with these Stepford children.
2. This is my pig. Or, at least it was my pig before it was broken into a million pieces by a child. Every day I’m amazed that he still lives, because this pig was my favorite. The hat she is modeling was too big for my son when he was born, to give you an idea of how big she was.
3. I used to play gin all the time on Yahoo! but shit like this always happened. So instead of free games, now I pay to have people talk to me that way and then some. I am too smrt.
4. Because why not spoon feed your cat some yogurt? Spoiled, stupid cat. He ran away, because he’s the dumbest cat ever.
5. This picture scared the crap out of me. Do you see the eye? It’s an illusion, but it’s also super creepy. But Fat Baby don’t give a fuck, so no worries.
Robin woke me up at 3:30 AM and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t eat dinner so I decided to eat a ham and cheese and Dorito sandwich. Don’t judge–there is something immensely satisfying about smushing chips in your sandwich and hearing that crunch.
I am working on the heels of the Mr.’s socks and Boris is sitting with me. In my head, I thought “I’m knitting with my cat” and then laughed at myself, wondering how I would actually utilize the cat to knit. The closest thing in my head was using his arms as knitting needles. I guess you had to be there. You know, in my head.
He’s not really much help, but he does keep me company.
FYI, Boris has never been a jerk when it comes to knitting and yarn. He will play with yarn if I initiate it, but the cartoonish image of him stealing a ball of yarn and batting it around the room until it’s a jumbled mess has never happened. That’s too undignified for him.
There you have it. I’m officially 92 years old and alone, knitting away with my cat at my side. At least until the kids wake up.