Out of practice
Would you believe me if I said that every single weekend in June was totally booked for me? As in every Saturday and every Sunday I had something scheduled: tattoo sessions, company picnics, bridal showers, Little League games, a trip to Vegas, trips to the vet and a date to see Kung Fu Panda with T. And this weekend is no different; Saturday is a full day of scrapbooking and Sunday is Stitch & Pitch. And then poof, June is over.
And I'm having a very hard time typing this because Miss Vivianne has decided she needs to be RIGHT UP ON ME all night tonight. (Do kittens have separation anxiety? Or is she just being clingy for the fuck of it?) We've integrated her into the family completely now, and everyone seems to be surviving. Abbie is much more tolerant in her old age; she isn't hissing nearly as much as she did when I got Riley and she even plays with Vivi sometimes. Riley is having none of it though and keeps acting like a grumpy old man. My poor sweet boy, so worn out by this little adorable bundle of energy.
In the meantime, there's another reorg happening at work and my boss is leaving and my job is in flux so I'm exploring my options. So I went on an interview this week for a job that I would be really good at but I'm 99% sure I'm not going to get, and one of my friends desperately wants me to come work for her company but needs to create the job for me first. I'm in the very lucky position of having a lot of options, and none of them are the unemployment line. More than a lot of people in this country can say right now.
I could have sworn I had more things to say tonight, but I think my blogging abilities are suffering from too many distractions these days. Twitter and Facebook and LiveJournal all play to my ADD tendencies entirely too well. But seriously, these entries? They'll get better someday soon. There's just way too many things for me to talk about for me to stop blogging now.
Expect the unexpected
If there is one thing Kevin has learned about life with me, it is to never be surprised because really, anything is possible.
I may head out to wander the town with a visiting friend, only to have to call him and say "Hey, we're going to be later than I thought because
I'm totally getting a tattoo right now! Also, can you please transfer some money from the savings account for me?" And because I am who I am and our lives are what they are, he will laugh and say okay and transfer the money for me.
Or I may go wine tasting with my best friend, and then come home with not just 5 bottles of wine, but 5 bottles of wine and TWO wine club memberships despite the fact that A) I get drunk on half a glass of wine now and B) he does not drink wine so C) wow, that's a lot of wine for our household! (That one did earn me a small eyeroll, I think.)
People have asked me if Kevin ever gets really, truly angry at anything and I said "Not really, except for bowling. Bowling pisses him off." But last week I really tried his patience when I called him in the middle of the day and "asked" if we could take in a kitten that was currently in the possession of my (who is 12 years old and so not really the most clear thinker in situations like this) Little Sister. He said okay, mostly because (as he said, and I have to agree with) the decision had really already been made. And so because he loves me so very much and has the patience of a goddamned saint, I brought home a teeny, tiny little kitten last week. As I told my Little Sister, both she and the kitten are lucky that they are cute, because despite her teeny tinyness, the kitten is very much a Big Ball of PITA.
She's six weeks old, which means we can't test her for FIV or FeLV for another 3 weeks. And that means she is currently on lockdown in the bathroom, since our other cats cannot be exposed to her until she's cleared. She had fleas and ringworm, and has to go in for a lime sulfur dip every weekend until the ringworm clears up, so we are now fanatical hand-washers. Skin cultures and fecal testing and baths and vaccinations and exams and yadda yadda made her a $400 kitten. (I told Kevin that at that price, maybe we should name her Caviar since the cost per ounce is about the same.)
We did not name her Caviar (Little Sister had named her Oreo but I am against naming pets after food products); her name is instead Vivianne, because she is prissy and petite and adventurous all at once and Vivianne just fits her. We call her Vivi for short, but have also taken to calling her Chowhound (since she eats VERY WELL) and Snack (since at 1.8 pounds she is perfectly snack sized for Abbie). She already recognizes Kevin and I as "her people" and purrs like the dickens when we go in the bathroom and she hears our voices. She would very much like to leave the bathroom now, and has learned how to both climb up your legs if you are wearing pants and how to jump from the top of her carrier to the toilet. She is totally getting her claws clipped tonight.
So May has been an adventurous month for us. There was a
car that crashed into our building, I bought a lot of wine, I got a tattoo and now, we have a kitten. On the good side, Kevin can never say that life with me is boring. (And he
has other proof too.)
Guess it's a good thing I'm so cute too.
