So that’s what’s new with me. The boyfriend is no longer the boyfriend, but the husband. Which is still, after a week, weird for me to say. After all, he’s been “the boyfriend” for 11 years. I suppose it will take a bit more than a week to get used to the idea.
No, it is not because I have a “bun in the oven.” It was mostly for insurance. But somewhere along the way, despite our idea that it was just a piece of paper, I’ve realized it’s more than that. Although I am not religious and extraordinarily averse to doing things for tradition’s sake, being legally bound to your significant other IS different. My main beef with marriage is that if it doesn’t work out, you just get a divorce anyway, so what’s the point? It’s just a more expensive breakup. But we took the plunge. At the courthouse. Without guests (so no one could get upset, and I didn’t think they’d allow the cats, and even if they did, the hubz would have nixed that idea quickly). The idea of a big fancy day all about me sounds absolutely splendid, and in fact, I did get caught up in planning something – but it is disgustingly expensive and I can think of a million different things that would be a better use of money. Also, I hate planning. Simply because I am bad at it. So we’ll have a party for the family and friends who were still a teeny bit sad that we didn’t do it all in front of them. In retrospect, very glad, because just in front of the clerk of the court I felt awkward and weird and I cried unexpectedly.
So we told the cats they weren’t bastards anymore. They don’t care. Apparently they are the least affected by this legal union. Someone still puts food in their dishes.
In other news, I got the new iPhone 6 (not the Plus, I do not want to hold an iPad to my head on the rare occasions I actually use my phone as a phone). And how have I utilized my BRAND NEW technology that is so highly in demand? Taking slo-mo videos of the cats. Fingerprint ID is neat and all, but I could watch Moosh shake his head in slo-mo for HOURS.
Yup. Nothing has really changed at all here.
Why? Because Mommy didn’t get one.
Happy Father’s Day to all of you dads out there. You got the easy role, though, so every day is really your day. No childbirth, no mommy instinct, no periods, no menopause. Oh, and you just look more dapper as you age but we women look more haggard. I guess I’m a little biased. I may not have given birth to the furballs but it’s clear who’s responsible for them.
To my own father, thanks for putting up with my teenage crap. But look how sane I turned out? With a few exceptions, of course. But overall, not too bad. Thanks especially for being my teenage disciplinarian. I can now appreciate that I had someone to be scared of, but my friend now that I’m an adult. I love you bunches.
By the way, would you like some cats?
Maybe this is a few days late, but I’ve been a little busy being cranky having to return to the real world.
That, and Taco has NOT SHUT UP since we’ve been home. I mean, really. The day we got back, Taco meowed incessantly. Even when he was half asleep, he was croaking out meows. I’m sure he missed us and all, but you can SHOW us. We don’t need to hear it. It’s died down a little since then but he’s still way too loud for my tastes.
Anyway. Honey. Happy anniversary. I’m writing this because I still haven’t given you the card I bought months and months ago and then forgot.
I knew you were a keeper when I still liked you after two weeks. I can’t believe how long ago that was. I appreciate that you do things like get me the fries I so desperately crave because Aunt Flo is in town even though it makes your pizza cold. And that you’re such a good daddy to the boys. Mostly when no one’s looking, but I know.
You’re my bestie. You know me better than anyone on this earth. It annoys the crap out of me sometimes because I can only bullshit you when you’re feeling generous and allow it. I’m amused that you vaguely accept me being PigPen when you love clean so much. I assume that you’ve finally understood that the mess is in my genes and no matter how hard I try, I WILL get crumbs all over. And I try to accommodate your “man cave” weekends with the curtains drawn (sometimes) even though I would live in a house built of windows if I could.
I would say I look forward to growing old with you, but it seems we’re already doing that. I’m not sure whether this is what aging is like normally or if we just prematurely age each other by being pains in each others’ asses. But I wouldn’t be happy with it any other way. You keep me on my toes and I love that. I’m up for 10 more if you are. I heart you.
The kitties would like to wish their father and grandfather a very happy Father’s Day. They even got their daddy a card. I had to sign it for them, though, because they don’t have thumbs.
It’s not easy being a Cat Daddy (unless you’re Jackson Galaxy)…you have to be rather quiet with the snuggle talk because your friends will mock you relentlessly. I have the utmost respect for the cat daddies out there who fly their kitty flag proudly.
Honey, your boys love you. And I know you love them, even though they wake you up, cover your clean laundry with fur and step on your man parts.
Grandpa (Dad, I’m sorry, but furry grandchildren is all you’re gonna get) has two Daddy’s girls of his own — one human, one cat. Joanie, my dad’s kitty, has hated me for most of her life. Hisses when I come near. Very jealous. But she’s mellowed with age, and I love her anyway.
Dad, I love you! Thanks for teaching me the sky’s the limit (literally — when are you going to finish teaching me how to fly?) and for being an awesome cat daddy to Joanie (and Fu). You’ve taught me how to be a jack (Jill?) of all trades, because life is boring when you stick to just one thing. You’re the best! I miss you and hope you have an amazing Father’s Day. Tell the kitties to be extra nice to you today.