Tagged: books

Vacation hi-jinx.

Despite the fact that I’m only on half vacation until 3pm tomorrow, I’m trying to make the most of my off time. So far, I’ve accomplished very little, except that I’ve actually been to the gym EVERY DAY this week! So what if it’s only Tuesday? This is still something to give accolades for. Yay me.

I also spent some quality time with my mom and my other cats today. By this I mean one allowed me to maneuver under a chair to pet him and the other demanded attention to his fat belly.

The fat powers the lasers.

The fat powers the lasers.

The mother is not used to having my undivided attention, so as usual, she forgot everything she was saving up to talk to me about. But we had a lovely time anyway, going through books and old photos. And I did all her “tech” stuff. You can lead a horse to an iPhone, but you can’t make em update it. mom love

Then I came home. To a Taco that seems to be extra loud. He’s been meowing up a storm lately. I am ready to punch him. I won’t, of course, but I threaten him anyway. He meows in response. I’m considering not coming home at all tomorrow.

I plan to spend the rest of the time off with the boyfriend. Hopefully on the beach. I stockpiled a crapload of books (it pays to have a mommy with a bookstore when you’re a bookworm) and I even bought a fancy new towel that slides right on to your beach chair. Please hold out, weather!

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Kitties for my birthday.

It’s my birthday! I’m thirty-one. I have officially been old enough to drink legally for TEN YEARS. My god, that thought is horrifying. I remember how far away 21 seemed when I longed to be able to buy my own beer, and now I’m 10 years from that on the other side.

If you’re wondering why I’m writing a blog post instead of doing something fun and exciting to celebrate, it’s because it’s miserable outside. The weather is always a little flaky on my birthday but it’s not usually outright COLD. And it’s cold. Sunny, but windy and and cold. And since I’m still expelling an ungodly amount of mucus, I’m not willing to suffer through it for even a spring training baseball game, which the boyfriend lovingly offered up even though his back’s all screwed up and I know he isn’t impressed with the weather either. Now that I think about it, it was really windy on my birthday last year too, but it was HOT. I passed up a beach day because of the wind since getting sandblasted is NOT fun (I was also really hungover). So I’m here with the boyfriend, who is laying in bed with his bad back, and the kitties, who are sleeping on the couch next to me and in the cubby hole of the cat tree. cat napkitty cubby hole

The boyfriend took me to get vegan pancakes this morning only for us to discover that the place serving the vegan pancakes is in fact no longer open. It was a truly lovely thought, though. And he got me vegan cupcakes!

Apparently everyone knows what I like, as most of my cards are cat-related. kitty cardsmeowing kitty cardOne meows the birthday song, which confused the hell out of the boys. Searching all over for the singing kitties.

I also got this amazing book, I Could Pee on This.

I also got a Richard Dawkins books, of which the title could ironically also refer to cats.

I also got a Richard Dawkins books, of which the title could ironically also refer to cats.

Poems by a cat. I assume they were dictated to a human. I had fun annoying the boyfriend while reciting some of them to him. Highly amused.

Except for the stupid weather, I feel loved and adored in my advanced age. I’ve had well-wishes and presents from all over, particularly on facebook, which makes one feel rather popular. Tonight I will drink with some friends and will attempt some sort of moderation, as hangovers have only gotten worse for me the older I get. We’ll see how that works.

Old cats and ex-mommy status.

My mom works weekends, because she has her awesomely fabulous bookstore to run (Sam’s Books, in Oldsmar, Florida, if you’re ever in town, please check her out). My birthday is Saturday, and of course this is a busy day for her, so we celebrated together yesterday. My mother is probably the reason I regard birthdays so highly, as she always acts as if mine is a holiday. We went out to lunch, browsed around a bit then went back to her house where she had a piece of vegan cake waiting for me. Man, I love cake. I love cake like a fat kid loves cake. If I ever lose that 20 pounds (that would still keep me in a perfectly normal range, so no, I do not have body dysmorphic whatever) that I’ve been threatening to lose for the last 16 or so years, I’m going unvegan for a day and eating an entire Publix cake. Because Publix has the best freakin’ cakes ever. I also got to grab a big stack of books which means I will probably not get all the things accomplished that I threatened to accomplish on my time off.

Being at my mom’s means I get to hang out with my kitties. Who I realized, are really now her kitties. Although I picked them both out as babies and was their mommy for the majority of their lives, I am only mildly tolerated now.

Even Fatty's eyes are fat. I heart my big boy.

Even Fatty’s eyes are fat. I heart my big boy.

Fatty, my fat fat fat baby, doesn’t even do our choreographed stretch when I pick him up just the right way anymore. Of course, he IS turning 16 this year. And he wasted no time gaining back all the weight he lost when he almost died of anemia.

The other baby, Little, has never really been anyone’s cat. He keeps to himself. He allowed me to pet him briefly but was quite clear in letting me know that he was only humoring me.

There’s something sad about ex-mommy status, even though I have two boys of my own at home. I would probably be more upset about it if I didn’t take into account the reasons that I didn’t uproot them when I finally moved out of my mom’s house at the ripe old age of 24, those being that I rent (they’ve been freely allowed to scratch everything forever) and I didn’t want to separate them from my mom, who of course is an amazing mother (obvs, you can see how well I turned out). She’s good for them. I’m ok with being the sister. Besides, color-wise, I have an identical set here (black and a tabby). Life is good.

Side note, I got to go through a bunch of old stuff yesterday including my old dance costumes. I wish they still fit. I’m not kidding when I say I would prance around the house in them.

HOW CUTE IS THIS??? It ALMOST makes me want a kid. Almost. Not really. I just want to wear it.

HOW CUTE IS THIS??? It ALMOST makes me want a kid. Almost. Not really. I just want to wear it.

Using my death bed productively.

Taco doesn't care about my plight. One day of kitty snuggles with ol' Sicko was enough for him. He's busy with his new CAT TREE friend. Hmph.

Taco doesn’t care about my plight. One day of kitty snuggles with ol’ Sicko was enough for him. He’s busy with his new CAT TREE friend. Hmph.

I’m still sick. I love how optimistic I always am at the beginning of getting sick, as though THIS TIME is gonna be the time that I’m gonna whoop this sucker and get it out of my system in 24 hours. What, yours hung on and became pneumonia? Not gonna be a problem for me, because I’M KICKIN’ SICK’S ASS RIGHT NOW! And then the next day you wake up, test things out, snot starts flowing again, and you lose a little more hope. Usually I only feel like total crap for 2 days on a cold and then the rest is just getting out mucus in various ways, a la coughing fits, neti potting and nose blowing. I’m on day 4 and am now just beginning to feel like I’m in control of my brain again. Does your brain shut your brain down to conserve energy to fight germs? Seems efficient. Although not helpful at work.

To make matters better, this was also the week that I picked as my first vacation of the year at Big Brown, and decided to take a few days off the real job as well. Because…IT’S MY BIRTHDAY WEEK! I know that some people don’t think birthdays are all that important or exciting but I grew up as an only child so my understanding of it is that it is MY DAY so everyone in the land should celebrate ME! I may be turning 31, but in my head, I’m still a bratty child. I wish my newly beginning wrinkles thought that. So today was my Friday, which I can’t really enjoy because drinking a) dehydrates, and I need to keep my mucus watery and b) isn’t all that good for your immune system. I’d rather get over this crap now than prolong it because I have some half-assed desire to celebrate a fake Friday.

To further destroy my ego, the weather, which has been borderline hot, is about to swiftly swoop to much lower lows (and lower highs) than I care for. And that, of course, ruins any silly dream I may have had of birthday beach days. This is why I could never have pool parties when I was a kid. My birthday weather was always “too unpredictable.” Bah to that. Anyway, that will activate my allergies, and in turn make the snot flow even more (if that’s humanly possible).

Since I’m not doing anything fun, I decided to read. Yesterday I really needed light reading, so I read some chick lit, which turned out to be teen books, but I enjoyed anyway. Today, since my brain is a little less foggy, I’m turning to non-fiction. I decided to finally read ALL the books in my house that are about cats that I’ve been meaning to read.

I think I already know the answer to the genius one...

I think I already know the answer to the genius one…

Turns out I have only 3. I really thought I had more than that. So imma get down to business. Perhaps I’ll let you in on my knowledge tomorrow, since I am free from working duties for the next 5 days, albeit limited in the “fun activities” department. I have a to-do list, though…

Alas, my blog will never make me rich.

I like to read. I LOVE to read, in fact. I read a bunch of crap, like chick lit and sometimes accidentally romance novels when the cover of the book fools me into thinking it’s chick lit. I’ll read it anyway. It’s like candy. No nutritional value but it’s fun while you’re eating it. I try to balance out my crap reading with what I call “smart books,” a.k.a. non-fiction or classic novels. I don’t always make it through the non-fictions…they’re always really interesting to me at first, and then I get bored. But sometimes I don’t, which brings me to my point. Malcolm Gladwell totally keeps my interest on non-fiction subjects, so as a result I’ve read several of his books, the first being The Outliers. It’s about incredibly successful people and WHY they are successful. The basic consensus is this: successful people don’t have to have giant IQs, in fact, sometimes intelligence that high is detrimental. No social skills. IQ doesn’t measure street smarts. High-ish IQs seem to be best. But what really makes a successful person successful is luck. I prefer to call it “random advantageous circumstances” since I don’t believe in “luck” as it’s defined. And it’s not just luck, it’s being able to recognize these random advantageous circumstances and furthermore, taking advantage of them. Bill Gates is one of those people. He was in the right place at the right time with the right interests and knew to milk that shit.

Let me switch subjects for a sec. You’ll see where I’m going with this. Now, I by no means consider myself a writer. I probably should, I make my living proofreading and dabbling in copywriting. And it’s not as if I think I’m a BAD writer, really, I just realize that I’m not the best. I ramble, I can’t keep track of my tenses, I DESPISE re-reading my work to check for errors (stream of conscious writing, you know) and I don’t always have a solid point. BUT…I do adore the subjects I write about (kitties) and I have good stories.

My baby boy is so good. And cute. And lovey.

My baby boy is so good. And cute. And lovey.

(Here’s where I put the two together.) As a smart girl, I feel like I should have done something considerable with my life. But I’m grown up and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up (cat whisperer is at the top of my list currently, but as you can read here, it seems kind of hard to break into). Since reading the Outliers, I keep that recipe for success in the back of my mind at all times. I’m always on the lookout for my million dollar idea. For the wave to ride to success. When I started this blog, it was because my cats are psycho and frankly, I don’t always believe the things they do. Writing about my crazy cat experiences is cathartic and highly rewarding (who doesn’t like favorable comments?) But I always hoped that I’d find a way to make it my million dollar idea. Well, no one’s offered me a sponsorship yet, but I decided to take it upon myself and look into getting paid via ads. Which is when I discovered that WordPress ain’t havin’ none of that. Unless you go through them and you buy your domain name. It seems rather sad to pick up my toys and leave for greener and more profitable pastures. And as of now I’m not planning to. I just needed to vent about my defunct dream. ONE MORE MILLION DOLLAR DREAM DOWN THE DRAIN!

It would help if the boys helped with the hunt for the million dollar idea, but they only search for bugs.

It would help if the boys helped with the hunt for the million dollar idea, but they only search for bugs.

I also failed on the “marrying for money” idea. What can I say? I’m a sucker for love.

So if anyone knows how I can make my crazy cat stories into stacks of benjamins, hit me up, yo. I’ll be on that like a cheap suit. Until then, I’m going to see if I can get the cats jobs.

Taco is a petulant child. If you won't make room for him on your lap, he'll FIND room. Forcefully. Ah, the lie of a cat mom.

Taco is a petulant child. If you won’t make room for him on your lap, he’ll FIND room. Forcefully. Ah, the life of a cat mom.