Today was a very long day, just like every day this week has been. But it was an awesome day. Why, you ask?
BECAUSE LIL BUB CAME TODAY!
I’m having a lovefest, at least as much of a lovefest as my broken, injured self can have. The boyfriend was off from work today, and despite this fact he went all the way to the mailbox for me to pick it up (it’s at the entrance of our complex, he has the key). The only thing I’m a little upset about is that January and February are already over and I’m not able to enjoy the Lil Bub calendar for a full 12 months. January is Lil Bub and Gizmo!
Also a tiny bit perturbed that tomorrow isn’t going to be as warm as I’d like to wear my Lil Bub tank top, but hey, that’s what layers are for, right?
Every time I look at Lil Bub I squeal. I mentioned my squealing in an earlier post. I do it a lot. Over cute things, anyway. So I’m in a much better mood than when I hobbled out of Big Brown feeling like a big ball of pain. That could be the 3 beers, too, but who the hell cares.
Taco is rather dubious of this new arrival that I fawn over. Tough crap, kitty. His pictures are silent, unlike your loud ass. Maybe if you stuck your tongue out more often I’d fawn over you as much.
The calendar is coming to work with me tomorrow for everyone to enjoy. Fridays, although they are Fridays, always end up being a frantic marathon of a day, so Lil Bub will be much needed. Be jealous.
I know I’m not really on the cutting edge here. Too Cute is a show that’s been on Animal Planet for awhile.
But I feel it’s time that I express my utter love and devotion to it.
If you’re unfamiliar with the format of this wonderful show, it follows 3 litters of different breeds of kittens (or puppies, and they branch out with other animals on occasion) from right about the time they’re going to open their eyes to a few months old, usually when they’re old enough to wean.
Now I’m not really a proponent of breeding cats. Not that I can’t appreciate the beauty of different breeds, but a) there are a lot of not-so-reputable breeders out there who can do a lot of damage with inbreeding and such, b) it’s really going against nature and natural selection which is such an amazing process in itself that I think humans have some friggin’ nerve to try and mess around with it and c) THERE ARE A BAZILLION STRAY CATS OUT THERE THAT NEED HOMES.
They never show the people in this show except for a hand here and there and occasionally children, but I do often wonder about the back story. Are these people breeders? Do they just love their purebred so much they want to pass on the bloodline? And most importantly, how the hell do these people (who usually seems to have rather nice homes) deal with cats that aren’t spayed or neutered? Both male and female cats that aren’t fixed are prone to a host of what we conceive (double entendre! Boom.) as behavorial issues because those kitties are horny little MFers. Like spraying and howling. Cat-in-heat spray is worse than cat pee.
Despite these unanswered questions, I adore this show. And I spend the entire hour (only the cat ones, sorry dog people, I love all animals but I just don’t love them as much as cats) squealing (and I mean that quite literally). I squeal, I “aww,” I talk to the kittens as if they’re actually in front of me (and as if they give a shit). I watched last week’s episode last night (god, I love my DVR). One of the breeds was Munchkins. I know from watching Cats 101 that this is actually a controversial breed, and in fact not really a breed at all, it’s just a genenic mutation. They have tiny legs. Which is why some people feel they shouldn’t be bred for that specifically. Putting all controversy aside, watching a munchkin kitten try to get around on tiny legs is AMAZINGLY ADORABLE. Only 2 of the 6 kittens in the litter got the tiny leg trait, and they were named PORKCHOP AND NUGGET.
I could just die. There was also a gratuitously delightful scene of a kitten getting lost under a hat. I don’t think I need to tell you how cute a hat/cat turtle is.
Sometimes I can get Taco interested in the TV. He’ll sit there and stare intently. Sometimes I can’t get him into it. Maybe he’s feeling his age. Moosh watched it once. The boyfriend refuses to watch this show. In fact, he thinks I’m crazy. I think it’s the squealing and the baby talk. I can’t help it. It’s just TOO CUTE. And honestly, we need more of that in the world.
I have accomplished a major goal today, on my 3rd day of vacation, and it’s only 8:30am (I’m a morning person, what can I say? I can’t sleep in). This means that I can officially spend the day lounging around reading if I so desire, and ignore the to-do list I already made. I just started a good one. I laughed about the writer’s name but it turns out she’s rather good. Joanna Trollope. I think I enjoy British writers more than American. Something about their cadence, I suppose. I will, however, read anything and everything, so long as something hooks me enough to find out what happens.
This goal goes back to the cat tree. I’m sure you’re all quite sick of hearing about the damn cat tree, and unless something incredibly fascinating happens with it someday, this will be the last I directly reference it. My dreams of the cat tree were mostly for Moosh, as he is a “tree dweller” sort of cat. I base this diagnosis on more than a few facts: he perches on my shoulders, he’s been found on more than a few occasions on top of the cupboards (once IN the cupboards), and he sits on top of the office bookcase. Taco just likes to go wherever, being UP on things isn’t that exciting to him. He just wants to be where the action is. I thought he’d enjoy the scratching stuff, though.
But guess who’s been using the cat tree more? Taco.
At first, I thought it was just him being a brat, taking over whatever space Moosh would want, but I tried putting Moosh on the highest part of the tree and he would either just jump down or step onto my shoulders and jump to the ground from there. Moosh HAS enjoyed the angled edges of the tree on various other levels, as he likes to smush his face against them. It looks very painful to me but it seems to be enjoyable for him. Whatever.
Turns out he just needed to do this on his own terms. Today, he got on the 2nd highest level. I managed to coerce him up to the next with promises of face smushes. And he stayed! I even walked away and he stayed. And realized that he had a pretty freakin’ good view.
MOMMY ALWAYS KNOWS BEST, BEYOTCH.
Update: For no apparent reason today, I caught Moosh on top of the fridge today, where he hasn’t been seen in months, who then, upon being spotted, made a run across the cupboards, then back again to the fridge and then down the minute I sat up to attempt a picture. This is what the cat tree was supposed to solve. Sigh.
Well, I feel slightly less icky today. I would be happy about that, but the sickness has moved into the “never ending snot faucet” stage. Usually the good cold meds work — you know, the kind of you have sign for at the pharmacy so you can’t buy enough to make meth. You can’t even buy it if you’re a canadian on vacay here. I only know this because I overheard a poor, sick Canadian who really wanted the good stuff but needed a US ID to do so…that’s kinda BS. Does Canada even have a meth problem? Seems like they’re less trashy up there. Anyway, it’s not working for me.
But I am, nevertheless, enjoying watching the kitties play on the new cat tree. They’re not quite as addicted to it as I’d hoped they’d by, but at the moment Taco is, in fact, sleeping on the 4th level. Success.
Enjoy my enjoyment.
It finally happened.
After weeks of dodging germs from what seemed like EVERY PERSON IN EXISTENCE, my immune system has finally succumbed. I woke up with a sore throat and it’s just going downhill from there. It was only a matter of time. Everyone at both jobs had some variety of the sickness, including the boyfriend. So instead of enjoying the new cat tree (yes, it’s up!), I’m whining to Taco in bed.
At some point, I will get up and make some of an effort to do something. Not just yet. I also have to drink some apple cider vinegar and I really hate that. But it’s good for the ol’ mucus.
Aside from me feeling like someone stuck knives in my throat, I did take some pics of the kitties with their tree last night while I wasn’t aware of the sickness yet. The boyfriend did a lovely job of putting it together without breaking anything. They seem to vaguely enjoy it. Now if we could just agree where to put it.
Ok, so I took a lot of pictures. I was excited. Wish I still felt that energetic today. DO YOUR JOB, IMMUNE SYSTEM.
I had kind of a crappy day. Not the kind of crappy day where something goes horribly wrong, leaving one devastated and forlorn — just the kind that leave you feeling like your brain just put on little brain running shoes and participated in a triathlon. The kind where you start out like “Oh, it’s Friday, whatever happens today, it’s still Friday!” and ends with zombie-walking out an hour late, hoping no one who has another question sees you before you can make your escape. The kind where you’re not even finished putting out a fire when another fire jumps in. So by “bad,” I suppose I should say “challenging.” In the long run, I don’t mind these days. I work best under high stress, oddly enough, so although I may look frantic, I’m actually operating in my element. But at the time, all I can think is “WTF WTF WTF” and “No, I don’t have time to look at the YouTube video of my proofreader doing the Harlem Shake, are you crazy?” (It was made by my work, in case you’re wondering. We have a very strict policy encouraging FUN at work. Crazy, right? I still haven’t watched this. Memo: watch that.)
After I zombie-walked out, successfully avoiding any further work, all I wanted was a quiet drive home (I’d already decided to skip the gym…I already felt like I ran a marathon). However, this is FLORIDA, and every old hag who shouldn’t be driving at her advanced age is driving here. As I was stopped at a light, a lil ol’ lady HIT MY EFFING CAR. I mean, she just bumped it. She was shoving herself in my lane from the other lane, for reasons I still do not know. As I looked back screaming, I saw that she was totally clueless. But then, the light changed, and everyone started going. As I pondered what to do, I saw that the lady next to me had seen the whole thing and understood what was going on, so I made a motion asking if there was any damage to my car (I honestly have no idea what motion I made to convey this, but whatever I did was spot-on) and she looked back and shook her head. Then I had to stop again because the car in front of me did (this is what normal people do) and I swear to jeebus she must have been millimeters away from my bumper yet again. I decided that it was unlikely that it would be worth it to stop, as she seemed to not understand what the hell was going on and I figured that being arrested for elderly abuse would really put a cap on the ol’ day. So I turned left. She did not. Which was funny, because she SO needed to get in the left lane a mile back that she HIT MY CAR.
Then I got home. And Taco started meowing. And meowing. And meowing. And meowing. This is hard to admit, and I would never ever ever ever actually do it, I kind of wanted to boot him across the room. I know. I’m a horrible person. But I didn’t, and that counts, right?
I flung myself on the bed with a dramatic flair. Two seconds later, a meowing Taco-rocket came barreling in, almost overshooting. And…he sat on my lap.
I dare you to feel sorry for yourself when a kitten puddle melts on your lap, purring. Warm, cuddly love. The best part? He shut up.
Yeah. My day really wasn’t so bad.
I don’t like romance. I mean, I love it in movies and books and stuff, but in real life, it creeps me out. Taking the trash out is so much more meaningful to me. A six-pack is better enjoyed than flowers that will die (don’t get me wrong, I love flowers, but I have to hide them in my bathroom or take them to work because the cats will eat them – also, I feel kinda bad about the death of pretty flowers in general). Being serenaded seems like it would be so UNCOMFORTABLE. Where does one look? No one actually gazes into their loved ones eyes whilst being sung to. No one gazes into their loved ones eyes at all, except maybe for a few seconds. If romance is your thing, I’m not knocking it. It’s just not mine. But as far as V-Day goes, I’m not into it. Besides, my birthday is less than a month away and I DO love celebrating my birthday.
The kitties got me a card this year. Amazing, particularly because they don’t have opposable thumbs, means with which to get to the store to buy a card, or jobs with which to pay for said card. I guess this makes it that much more amazing that they got me one. Of course, the boyfriend did too. After almost 10 years, he knows that while I don’t care for cheesy romantical crap, I love me a damn card. So impressed the kitties know this as well. Glad they didn’t try to sign it with paw prints. The last time that was attempted, it was our cat Jager, who made a paw print with Jagermeister on my Mother’s Day card. Yeah, that went over well.
But anyway, it was a regular ol’ day for me. Work, gym, then more work. I do feel a TEENY BIT MORE loved by all my boys tonight. Wow, that made me sound like a slut. Just to be clear, I meant the boyfriend and the 2 furry sons. Really.
Yeah. So I’m lazy. Again. I DID manage to take my lazy ass to the mall today (I hate the mall) to spend christmas gift cards. I even bought a sensible dress for work. It’s leopard print, so I suppose it’s not TOO sensible, but nevertheless, sensible for me. The rest of my day has consisted of taking pictures of cats. I thought I’d share.
Let me preface this by saying that I despise cold weather. I am NOT built for cold. My Florida native blood is thin and wussy. I’ll sweat my ass off any day of the week over being even mildly chilly. However, because I am on my new “Positive Sarah” kick, I’m going to examine the good things about cold weather, rather than the ones that make me miserable, like goosebumps and the fact that if it drops below 65 degrees farenheit my nose runs like a faucet and turns red and glowy.
One. Cute boots. Although my closet is jam-packed full of sandals and flip flops because honestly, I don’t really like wearing shoes if I don’t have to, I love boots. I’ve loved boots in all sorts of different incarnations, from my younger teenage years wearing Doc Martens and my more favored steel toe Grinders to my newest acquisition, fashion-y, knee-high riding boots. Man, I love them. Almost as much as I love my fake Uggs from Target.
Two. Extra kitty snuggles. You’d think with the fur coats, they’d be pretty well prepared for the weather. The temperature in the house doesn’t really drop a ton, but it’s like they KNOW the outdoors are chilly and they’re into snuggling just because. It’s a lot harder to wake up for your alarm when you have a Taco draped across you purring. So cozy.
That’s it. Two good things.
Now, I understand that many of you reading this live in much colder climates. The high here today is 60. I know that’s a drop in the bucket. A few days ago I was wearing shorts and sandals. But this is why I live in Florida. I dare any of you currently scoffing my lack of toleration to spend a few days driving in an un-airconditioned car in the middle of Florida’s August.
As a lifelong Florida resident, I am all-too-familiar with the dangers of hurricanes and the aftermath. Of course, Sandy was an anomaly in the world of hurricanes, a once in a 1000-year event, which on its own is super fascinating. However, she was also quite a bitch.
Although I am definitely a Florida girl and will likely never move, I have had torrid love affairs with New York City. I love it so that despite the fact that it actually has winters, I have actually considered moving there. I have a big place in my heart for that amazing city, and it breaks my heart to see all the damage there, not so much to the Financial District but the LES, St. Marks, the East Village…my favorite vegan bakery is without power (BabycakesNYC, heart them)! My best friend lives in Long Island and although she escaped damage, she’s expected to be without power for 7-10 days.
One of my facebook friends posted something the other day about how he hoped that an apparently famous colony of feral cats who reside under the Atlantic City boardwalk were collected by the group that looks after then before the storm. This, combined with all the fundraising efforts I’ve seen for the people affected, got me thinking about how the animal rescues there probably really need some help too. No one has benefit concerts for them, and we all know non-profit groups (especially no-kill shelters) have a hard enough time staying afloat. So I did some research.
For one, I learned that Alley Cat Allies, the group that traps, neuters and releases the feral cats under the aforementioned boardwalk, reported that “many cats have already returned to their colonies after the devastating weather.” Animals ARE smarter than humans, after all — the kitties got the eff outta Dodge. But I found this page: it lists a few of the shelters and rescues that were affected by the storm and need help. So please, if you can, remember the kitties (and doggies) and donate to a shelter up there in need. People tend to get caught up in the human element in disasters like this and forget about animals because hey, they’re just animals, right? Except they’re not, not to me. I would risk my life to save my cats. I would hope that if a hurricane hit here, which is really not that unlikely, that there would be help for my boys in the event something happened to me. Or if my roof blew off and they got out. Who knows? Nature is unpredictable.
So if you can, throw in 10 bucks. Or even give to your own local shelter in a show of moral support. They all could use the help.