home new home

So here I am, at the Pants Ranch (casa de Mom and Dad), on the laptop I've already claimed.  It's been a very busy few days.  I've had to launder everything that was remotely dirty, pack up everything remotely loose, and corral all my cats into little carriers that render them the noisiest bastards on the face of the earth.  (Props to Mama Pants who drove them ALL in her big girl car.)  I lost one kitty in that venture.  Medusa went fully feral when I was trying to catch her.  She attacked me and then went insane.  In the end, Medusa chose nature over nurture and went out the window.  I'm sad she's gone--I know I won't get her back.  I'm glad I won't be around my house for a month because i'd be looking for her.  But in the end, her departure also ties up some loose ends on issues I'd wondered about solving.  There are currently five very happy kitties on my bed with me.  I need to focus on these happy, non-feral, non-attacking kitties.  

Tomorrow is pre-op day.  I think probably just blood work, vitals, a chat, and perhaps a heart bloop bloop thing.  (EKG?)  Then Thursday morning is the surgery.  I've been looking around this site and chatting with a gal who went through the same shiz a year or so ago.  We've chatted a little bit and it makes me feel better than I care to admit.  I never thought I'd be signing up for a site like that.  That's still a little weird.  I hope to be able to change my status from "fighter" to "survivor" soon.  It's so weird to think that there's this big-bad inside me when I feel perfectly fine. 

It's still early by my standards but I'm exhausted.  Think I might call it a night.  More tomorrow after I speak with everyone at le hospital.  My vagina is very important, you know.  heh

weekend update, staring Pants

Well.  This has certainly been one hell of a week.  I'm exhausted and really only worked two and a half days this week.  The house is still a little disassembled and I can still get high on paint fumes in my bathroom especially but it looks gorgeous.  I plan on taking photos this weekend (now that I've located my camera) when I can let the natural light in.

So when you have your family descend upon your house and start going paint happy, your neighbours get very curious.  We had to take down the shades to do paint the window wells and such and the neighbours sure looked in on us as we all worked.  One of them is friends with Amy and told her he wasn't sure what we were doing so he came over and looked into the windows while we were working.  I didn't see him and he's glad I didn't.  I don't mind people doing the passing glance, but the way he described it, he came and pressed his face up to my windows.  Andrew, I'll kick your ass if I ever see you do that shit--trust.

I'm still overwhelmed that everyone took their weekends to come over and help me paint my own house, worked their asses off, and didn't bitch about it.  Mama Pants says that's what family is all about.  I guess I'm so used to being fiercely independent (to a point) that I forget about stuff like that.  This week has totally reminded me what family is about and I know I'm very blessed to have the one I have.  I don't throw the "blessed" word around much because I find it a bit butterberry-asshole, but I am really blessed to have the parents I have, the nephews I have, the friends I have, the cats I have.  Well, the cats are more of a curse I put upon myself, but a curse that turns into a nice thing. 

Speaking of, Liam, the fluffball of whorey love, totally turned the charm on Big Daddy Pants.  I looked over Saturday morning to find him in my dad's arms, snuzzling up against his face, purring, and licking my dad's nose, while Big Daddy Pants gave him mega scritchy love and talked to him.  It was quite cute.  Nice to see my dad in softie moments like that.  He's always Mr. In-Control.  Jimmy and Joe (he's given me permission) are both very much cat people (score!) and were loving on the kitties whenever they had a spare moment.  The kitties weren't sure what was up at first, but quickly realised this was a good thing for them.  They even went in to see Medusa.  She was, of course, an asshole.

I got my Kindle yesterday.  Oh, hey, I bought a Kindle!  And it came yesterday.  I had Amazon credits and decided to just get one, as I don't know anyone who doesn't adore their Kindle.  It's charging right now but I've already bought a book to put on it.  (The Glass Castle.)  Looking forward to reading and trading books with it.  I'll read all the directions tonight to see what's what. 

like I'm 16 again!

So my face.  My face is rebelling.  I'm breaking out like a Justin Bieber fan would.  And considering I'd like to run over that kid with a lawn mower, this does not please me.  I know it's from being in the sun last weekend.  The heat, me sweating like Sweaty SweatsALot, and having sunscreen on my face.  Almost 36 years with my skin, I can tell the cause of this zit from that zit.  And the current batch of crop circles (and all out evil confetti) on my face are the fault of last Saturday spent miserably outside at a beer festival with no beer.  I seriously hate HBF.  I console myself with the thought that they'll probably never get a permit to do anything in this city ever again. 

My dad and I already did his main present for Father's Day.  I noticed before Mother's Day that Buddy Guy was coming to town in June so I asked him if he'd be interested in going.  He was and I got us the tickets.  I originally put in for 3 of them so Mama Pants could go along as well, but oddly, as I checked out, it only gave me 2 tickets.  Only charged me for 2 as well.  It was very weird.  But we went last Wednesday and had a blast--and the seat next to Big Daddy Pants was empty the whole night.  The show was at the House of Blues (fittingly, as he's a blues guitarist) and while it got hot as all get out upstairs, it was a damn good show.  I was shocked to find out that Buddy Guy is 74.  Total example of "black don't crack."  Jealous.

We're still doing lunch on Father's day though.  And I bought three boxes of See's Molasses Chips for Big Daddy Pants.  He loves 'em.  So do I, unfortuantely.  So I'm wrapping them as soon as I get home so they don't suddenly dwindle down to two boxes.  Afterwards, Mama Pants said we might tool over to Lowe's and look more closely at bathroom stuff.  Dad wants to redo my bathroom--it's still got everything original from when the places were built in the 80s.  There surely isn't enough room for a garden tub or a clawfoot tub--in space or in budget, as the clawfoot I saw there a few weeks ago was more than $1100.  I need to take measurements tonight.  Note to self.

I also started looking at paint colours yesterday.  I got a good idea of the colours I'd like to do and I'm pretty sure my parents are going to look at me like I'm insane.  They're very into the whole "everything is one colour:  white" thing.  Me?  I want colour.  I've lived with the "everything is oddbeige" for a long time.  I want some colour up in here!  Everything I was picking out for the living room was pretty earthy toned.  I believe I'm going with a green and yellow thing.  Colourful, but not an eye-assault.  My bedroom will be in blues--a very light, airy, almost white blue for the main walls, and a deep, saturated, night blue for the little window nook.  (Most of the nook will eventually be covered with curtains, so it will be a very small pop.)  The bathroom--I'm still up in the air on that one, but I'm leaning towards steely greys.  The kitchen is the eye-assault.  I think kitchens should be fun.  I would love to do an electric blue, but as it will be visible from the living room, it has to coordinate, which means I might need to earth down the blue a bit.  Or change up completely and do an eggplant in there.  The best part?  No drop cloths necessary.  Since the floors are being replaced, I can slop it everywhere.  (And I will.)

And now, we pretend this is a suitable segue....

A gal on my team is the Crazy Dog Lady, like I'm the Crazy Cat Lady.  She might be a bit crazier.  Obviously I love her.  She's currently got 9 dogs on her property.  (She lives way way way out in the country and has a sizable chunk of property.)  She's raising 3 puppies from two strays.  It was 4, but one was already adopted, as was the mama.  The daddy dog is a street dog who hangs around to get fed because she's nice and feeds him.  Once the puppies are gone, daddy dog is going to get his balls deballed.  She owns 4 of the dogs on her own--was 5, but lost one late last year sadly.  And someone recently dropped a lovely dog near her property last week so she's been feeding him as well.  She's pretty amazing.  Takes them to the vet to make sure they're healthy (which is as much for her own dogs as for the strays and stragglers) and works with a local rescue to find suitable homes for them.  She won't just give them away to anyone; the owners must be screened and approved.  I admire her dedication.  She really should be running some sort of rescue operation, though sadly those never bring enough money to live on.  She's certainly not the beancounter type.  I have no idea how she fell into that profession, but I'm glad she did cos she makes me feel less insane for my feline menagerie.

And now, just for the weekend, I've got your TMI report:  I'm not wearing any knickers today.  Ha!

kittens, clocks, and corsets

Okay, can we go back to either not having to change the clocks ever, or at least changing them when we were originally supposed to change them? This one-month-later horseshit is killing me. It's pitch black in the mornings and I have a hard time waking up when it looks like it's 2am outside. Looks like I'm going to have to bust out the timers again. Grr. I hate waking up like that. But I hate waking up late and panicking even more so I suppose I'll have to make a concession.

I've been keeping Medusa separated from the rest of the herd, as she was taking a bunch of bullshit from the Mean Girls and it was making her shyer than usual. She's had the bedroom to herself and has blossomed into a lovely little spaz, seeking out affection, sleeping on the bed with me, and coming to me when I call for her. The issue? I miss sleeping with my other kitties. They're better cuddlers for sure and I feel mean bouncing them out of the bedroom when I know they'd like to come in and sleep with the warm body (me). And Medusa still runs when anyone else comes in the bedroom. Apparently, I'm the only one she's okay with. But I have to admit, I do like that she's become as lovey as she has. She'll come when I call her and if I pat the bed, she hops right up and comes over to get scratched. She even rubs against my legs if I'm not petting her—that's a big new thing for her. She's meant to be an only kitty, I think. Well, she's meant to be a feral kitty, but she's okay with being an only kitty; if nothing else, she really enjoys the readily available food and water. She starts purring the moment I walk into the room and follows me if I go into the closet. She even chats a little with me. She's the size of a kitten still. Hard to resist, really.

I went to the Renaissance Faire with Amy this weekend. The Texas Faire is different from the one in Southern California at which I worked occasionally. And even that one is different than the one I worked for—the historical backer sold to a for-profit company and out went all the historical accuracy. I'm glad I was part of it while it was still focused on being historically accurate and less whizbangy. I do like that the Texas site is pretty and has lots of grass and trees. It's laid out well and if you're drunk enough, you'll walk in small circles for an hour before you even realise you're doing it. (cough) I got laced into a gorgeous corset at Casta Diva that I technically could have afforded, but it was the "technically" part that put me off. It would have made me a little uncomfortable until Friday. I had enough money to cover it, but not much more. If anything else had gone through, I'd have been screwed. Ultimately, I decided to put it back on the rack and think about it. If it was mine, it would be there when I came back. Only, I knew I wouldn't come back. I just needed to get away from it while I was in the heat of loving the corset. It was gorgeous, it was worth more than the $165 (tax included) price tag, but it wasn't a responsible purchase. And I'd drunk my irresponsibility for the day. I couldn't justify lacing myself up as well.

Man, it's like I'm learning something and shit.

Day 3: Something I need to forgive myself for.

Something I have to forgive myself for…. Okay, so this is one that made me nervous when I first saw the list and decided to do this. I don't have a history of kindness with myself. I will give the benefit of the doubt to Charles Manson (perhaps not him) but if I even whisper at making a mistake, I go nuclear assault on myself. It's counter productive, it's stupid, and I'm aware of all of this. (See previous.) I also know why I do it. (Again.) But I haven't figured out how to uncross the wires yet, or even if I want to uncross the wires. Choosing something I need to forgive myself for was not something that magically popped into my head. I read Joelle's post yesterday and wanted to just hug her tightly. And thinking about it in the elevator, on the way to my car to go home, something popped into my head and tears immediately sprung to, and out of my eyes. I knew it was the thing.

I need to forgive myself for Beltane's death. I still haven't come to terms with it and I don't know that I ever will. I still feel like it's my fault and that I failed him. He was 11 which isn't old at all in comparison to my 19 year old cat that I lost a few years earlier.

I still feel like bringing the first batch of foster kitties into the house brought whatever killed Bel into the house as well. They'd all had their shots and such, but it's the only real change in routine that I can see. And as he got sicker, I should have been more insistent with the vet, should have made him run more tests, earlier. I should have been more diligent with everything. I shouldn't have exposed him to whatever killed him. I should have known that he was sick way before I really realised it. I should have saved him. He depended on me and I failed him.  His death is on me and that's something I can't forgive myself for yet because I still miss him so much my heart aches.