Prolly All the Time

When Cats Attack!

Jeebus!  I look like shit today.

Last night, there was an incident at casa t'pon.  It has left one member of the family bloody and quite possibly scarred for life and another member sitting sullenly in the corner licking the ego and nursing a limp.  The parties in question...  me and the cat. 

I am not a cat person, but I am incredibly devoted to this animal. Due in large part to the fact that he helped me get sober (that's right, it is hard to find a pet with a degree in addiction disorders) and also to the fact that no one else in this family appreciates him (I am a sucker for a hard luck case).  M. barely tolerates his presence and only now lets the cat stay because my Antone DESTROYED a tarantula that M. had inadvertently brought into the house in his shoe.

I feed Antone, I clean his box (although, never as much as I should), I run the faucet for this poor soul so that he will not die a parched death.  I do my best to protect him from the dogs and from M.s constant harassment.  He sleeps curled up next to me and is usually the first face I see in the morning.

Anyway, back to my story.  My sweet kitty is getting slower and quite a bit fatter in his older years.  Lately, he has been missing jumps, awkwardly landing against the side of a cabinet or dresser as he attempts to navigate the house.  Last night, I was preparing his dinner, which means that all animals must gather around like street urchins, circa London 1800s, to ensure that any mrosel that hits the floor does not go to waste.  Needless to say, it gets a little crowded.  Antone is pacing his little section of the countertop when suddenly out of nowhere, the baby dog, Nugget, lunges at the cat.  At this point in the story, beezelbub opened the gates and all hell breaks loose.

To ensure that he wasn't missing out on any stray food particles, our canine vacuum, Cole, also makes a lunge at the countertop pinning me between the counter and the fridge.  In an effort to escape the boxer's advance and the blindly chomping jaws of the lab, Antone attempts to jump up on top of the fridge (a jump, incidentally, that was bold even in his youth).  You see where this is going...  he missed, badly.  And came crashing down on my face, my left eye to be exact. 

He cut me, he cut me deep. 

As I am crying in pain, Antone takes off into a corner.  Nugget and Cole are busy eating the half a bag of cat food that I dropped on the floor when I reached up to keep my eye in its socket.  M. is worried that this cat has maimed em for life and is calling for justice to be served through the sacrificing of the poor Antone.  All the while, butterbean happily babbles nonsense in the corner.

Why is the video camera always packed away when you most need it?  I am sure that FOX would have paid good money for the footage.

I will survive, although I currently bear a striking resemblance to Gill from finding Nemo or better yet, Eve from Days of our Lives, post knife attack.  I now have to take a full course of antibiotics to avoid a scorching case of cat scratch fever...

Most concerning is that all signs are pointing towards me entering another cycle of calamity.  I send this warning, if you see me coming move to the side and lock up your good china.  There is bound to be some disaster careening my way.

On my toes...

Love my husband... he is smart, caring and funny as all get out.  But, he is not the most, shall we say, attentive person I have ever met.  It is not unusual for me to walk around the house for a number of days, tired, haggard, ill-mannered, before he realizes that something might be wrong.  I have had a new hair cut AND color for upwards of a week before he has noticed it. I have huffed and puffed around the kitchen slamming cups and plates into the dishwasher and the next morning there is a new pile waiting to greet met. 

And I generally know exactly what I am getting for my birthday/mother's day/anniversary because I have told him what to get and sent him an online link a couple of days before. 

I am not sure that he has ever surprised me (well, with the exception of our engagement, but that is another story for another time)...  that is until this morning.

Butterbean has not been sleeping as well as he used to.  I recognize that this may be due to a number of factors, not the least of which is God punishing me for discussing my child's advanced sleeping behavior's with mothers not quite so blessed.  Don't get me wrong, he is 15 weeks and we only have one nighttime feeding.  I am a lucky, lucky bitch who doesn't deserve it...  but his pattern is different none the less. 

For the past 7 days, his one feeding has been falling between 3:30 AM and 4:30 AM, instead of the previous 5:30 AM.  This is added to the fact that my husband and I both go to bed at the same time (in a vain effort to maintain some semblance of an intimate life... because once my sleep train has left the station, none can board) and I am always up for the first AM feeding.  I also have insane problems getting back to sleep once i am awake.  I usually lie about in bed with my eyes closed hoping that when i open my eyes more than 3 minutes will have gone by.  Alas, I have forgotten what a good sleep is...  and now that I am back at work. I am CRAP.

Last night, while trying desperately to maneuver a bottle into butterbean's screaming, wide open mouth (attached to a gyrating body) in the pitch black dark, I reached  breaking point.  It occurred to me that I was being taken advantage of... that somehow I was putting bean to bed, waking up to feed him and start his day, while M. enjoyed an evening of peaceful slumber and drowsy goodness.

I began to count the number of hours that I am denied in sleepy land compared to M. (@ 14 per week, if you are counting and I am).  I planned my speech perfectly, lining up my points, all in an effort to convince him that he needed to step up, recognize my fatigue, and start carrying a little more weight in the nighttime schedule.  I was indignant.

I might have kicked him when i got back into bed... but that can't be proved. 

This morning, after retrieving butterbean from his crib, I was ready to address the issue.  I started by stating (in my best feel sorry for me pathetic voice) that the bean was up at 3:30 for his feeding and took almost an hour to get back to sleep and I didn't get back to sleep until 6:30 (alarm went off at 6:50, one snooze)...  as I took in a deep breath for what I expected to be the second coming of the Nixon-JFK debate (i am always JFK in this scenario), M. caught me completely off guard...  he said,

"we need to get you more sleep. I should help out more getting him to sleep."

PFFFFFFFFFFHHHHT!  That is the sound of the wind coming out of my sails.

No resolution on the how yet...  I know that the proof is in the pudding, but don't you just love it when something unexpected happens.

M., you rock.

Hmmm, very, very interesting

A person whose general opinions and viewpoints I respect has just brought to my attention a never before realized aspect of my personality.

I am a "last word" person.  In emails, IMs and, I am sure, other forms of communication, I strive, dare I say, need to have the last word.  Fascinating.  This is new information, but totally true.

M. has never told me this... although he does call me the interrupting cow.

I must begin to re-evaluate this habit.  I am going to start consciously not have the last word.  A few examples as to how it may impact my daily interactions with the world at large.

Leaving work:

t'pon -- I am heading out!

Co-W. --  OK, have a great night.

t'pon -- <silence> <blank stare, or perhaps awkward smile>

(see, ordinarily here I would say, "you too!" But instead, steely silence)

Collaborating on a project via email:

Co-W. -- Thanks for the feedback! I will incorporate and send around to the team.

t'pon -- <nothing>

(here, I would say something like "no problem" or "you are most welcome"... not so much anymore)

This new approach to communication will take dedication and work, but perhaps I will also find it liberating.

In case anyone is keeping score...  I think that I just had the last word on this topic. : )

And another thing!

I used to be a loyal NBC viewer, and since they still run Law and Order, I continue to be beholden unto them.  However, I am irritated.

Why, oh why, are they pulling Contender next season, but keeping the Apprentice.  I am sure that I am about to anger many in the blogosphere, but Donnie has jumped the shark.  The contestants of the past season are just barely compentent and completely irritating.

At least with the Contender, we got interesting back stories and they got to beat up on each other at the end of every episode.  Instead, we will be forced to listen to individuals devoid of any self-awareness babble and whine about how their team members are mean to them for another season.

And Joey?  Please...  Friends was great.  That is not.

At least, I will still have Law and Order...  Thank the sweet Lord for ABC and CBS next season.  I can hear the USS NBC sinking.

With all due respect... yeah, right!

I am in a mood...  and it appears that all the forces of nature and humanity are conspiring to ensure that, rather than letting my mood abate, this mood will be fanned into a fiery furnace of frustration (i lurv alliteration, BTW).  And so, in an effort to restore balance and not rip off a pinky finger of one of my co-workers, I must now (with a little reluctance) post my first rant. 

i don't feel as if we have known each other long enough...  we are still in the tender "showing our best sides" phase of the relationship...  i want you to like me, really really like me... but alas,  if i am not true to myself, how will you ever respect me?

What is it with people these days.  Is it just me, or have we become a people content with being rude, dismissive, and downright disrespectful of others.  I was raised to believe that you "do unto others as you would have them do unto to you." And not even from a religious perspective...  but from a good ole liberal progressive perspective.  There is a social contract that we are all bound by -- regardless of wealth, education, body odor, or the attractiveness of one's teeth.  No one of us is better than another by virtue of these artificial things.  We are all made of the same "stuff" and IMHO, some of us are more privilege not so much because we have some keen talent, but by the benefit of chance (who we were born to and where we were born). 

Now, let me preface this by saying that I too, at times, have been known to be rude to someone, but it is certainly not a fixed state, and it doesn't come from a sense of entitlement. It is usually related to the amount of sleep and food I have had access to over a 24 hour period. I have a mocking, sarcastic sense of humor, but I don't just spit it out at any and everyone. 

That said, I DO NOT THINK IT IS OK TO BE MEAN TO SOMEONE JUST FOR THE SAKE OF ILLUSTRATING HOW IMPORTANT YOU THINK YOU ARE...  people who do this are small and icky. 

Last night, M. and I attended our homeowners meeting, what a fucking waste of my time.  If I never have to speak to some of my neighbors again, it will be too soon.  Now, I understand that HOA meetings are often huge black holes of minutia, and for that, I was prepared.  I was not, however, prepared to find out how nasty some of the people I live near are.

Our HOA is still controlled by the developer, it is a new neighborhood and they are still building and selling homes.  As such, we as homeowners have very little control in what happens until such time as the developer turns over the last lot. WE ALL KNEW THIS WHEN WE BOUGHT OUR HOMES, it was clearly outlined in the agreement.  Now, the developer has flaked on a number of promises and that has almost everyone bent.  One of the major items of business for last night was to address the homeowners concerns.  That is why we attended.  Just to hear the explanation, because as I mentioned, for the foreseeable future, there is really nothing we can do to change the current state of affairs.

About 30 minutes into the meeting, as we discussed the annual financials, two individuals got RUDE.  I knew it was about to happen because one kept waving her bony hand and huffing while she looked about the room as if to say "I am important and deserve to be heard for the 8th time..." and the other started everything he said with the phrase "in all due respect..." [we all know that when you say this or "i don't want to offend"  you are just trying to give yourself permission to say something nasty].  They were berating the gentleman who manages our HOA.  They proceeded to spend 35 minutes nit picking every expense and requesting specific details on expenditures.  When Mr. G. indicated that he did not have that level of detail available, that he would be happy to check and get back to them, they became irate and began talking to him in a tone that is generally reserved for petulant 5 year olds and puppies. 

They refused to listen to him, refused to hear what he was saying...  He made some very good points about the cost of a few items but they were determined to belittle this man in front of the rest of us. Now, had Mr G. been unwilling to work with them or explain the details, that would have been one thing, but we were trying to move onto other business and these two people were busy trying to show everyone how very important they are by being rude to someone who provides a service to all of us.   Not to mention the fact that they were airing personal grievances, taking out their frustrations with the developer on this poor guy.  Instead of taking his offer to work through it at a later date, they held up business for EVERYONE ELSE THERE.

I was embarrassed.  These are the type of people who think just because they pay someone, they have the right to treat them like shit. They are the kind of people that make this world a hard place.

I have, in a past life, worked in investor relations... so let me say that Mr. G. met the fiduciary obligations related to reporting annual financials for a corporation.  No shareholder of a corp. would be given INVOICES for expenses at an annual meeting...

We left...  I was disgusted.  And as I left, I said (loud enough for the individuals in question to hear, without broadcasting it to everyone) that if our neighbors were going to be rude...  I wasn't going to be a party to the conversation. I looked them dead in the eye.

It is hard to really capture the environment without providing specifics.  Perhaps you think that I overreacted.  But, M. always thinks that I overreact and for the first time in as long as I can remember...  he agreed with me. 

Ok, I am done.  I have lots of funnies from the past weekend.  Bean was baptized which meant that the whole family was in town.  Fun times, people, fun times. 

20 minutes late, several dollars short

I lieu of a minute by minute breakdown of my very first Mother's Day (very much like any other Sunday with the exception of the highlight of my day .. my husband was EXTREMELY agreeable and offered to go to the grocery store with me and did not whine like a 4-year old during the hour long trip), I have decided to talk a little about our nanny. B. has made it incredibly easy to be the great mother that my husband thinks that I am...  and for those of you like me out there, you can't thank a nanny enough.

My husband is often amazed at the lengths to which I will go to keep B. happy.  Not that she has indicated unhappiness in the short time that she has been with us.  To the contrary she has indicated nothing but pleasure with her pay, work conditions, etc.  I am just so terrifyingly worried that she will leave...

... with no notice! And I would be fucked.

So, I buy her groceries so that she will have things that she likes to eat when she is stuck at our house.  I have given her several (expensive) articles of clothing from my closet. (let's be frank... they are not my fat pants and I doubt that I am ever going to fit into them again.  They were going to be given away anyway... I just didn't tell her that.)  I even offered to give her my cell phone...

M. says that I am trying to buy her love. And given the fact that she lives with her parents, she probably does better than we do in terms of disposable income, so she can buy her own cookies.  And I am sure that he is right.

But everyday I choose to go to work, I must leave the butterbean behind in her care... I trust her.  She does a fantastic job with him, he obviously likes her a great deal.  She also puts up with three fur babies who also demand her attention. She is incredibly undserstanding when I am (frequently) late coming home. I clearly do not deserve this.

I DO NOT WANT TO HAVE TO FIND ANOTHER NANNY. Anyone who has been through the situation knows how mind-numbingly difficult it is -- the references, the networking, the interviews, UGH.

So, if I have to splurge on Chips Ahoy cookies (no off-brand for MY nanny) to keep her in our employ than that is what I have to do.  I am willing to make that sacrifice.

Huis Clos

My friend S. is having a day...

The kind of day at the end of which you think that you must have died sometime during the night before and this is your version of hell.  It is as if each and every MoRon on the face of the Earth, spored, and the resulting triple to quadruple mass of MoRons showed up at her place of work.  Her IM comments made me snarf my beverage:

S.: and then SR called on her way home at 4 p.m. - and she was at a mother's day event for three hours today - and rattled off about 50 more to dos...
S.: quitting......
t'pon: no.  i won't let you do it. what would you do?
S.: t'pon - hauling garbage would give me more pleasure.
S.: at least people appreciate it.
S.: and, if your trash isn't out by the time my truck rolls by, you are out of luck.

There you are my dear S., now you are immortal.

Side Bar:

I swear to GAWD that if my next door neighbors don't stop letting their ratty little mop dog crap in my yard without picking it up... well, I may let my 200lbs of dog have a new squeaky toy. 

A Secret, part 2, wherein the secret is revealed

NOTE:  If you have not read A Secret, Part 1, STOP.  This post will not make sense and you will be confused.  Go ahead and catch up.  We will wait.

OK, so life and my little hobby were moving along quite nicely.  Only three people knew my secret: my future husband, my friend K. and my mother.*  And then things began to unravel.  It began with my first trip with M.

We were just getting settled and buckled into our seats.  I had a nice, older gentleman seated in the aisle seat next to me (I also regularly sacrifice the window seat since meeting M.).  I began to formulate the story that I would share, compiling the details, working out the interesting tidbits that would become my flying alter-ego.  I was eagerly anticipating his introduction when I looked over at M. and he smiled at me.  OMG!  It hit me like a ton of bricks.  I was stuck on this flight for 3.5 hours and would not be able to lie... I could not work with him sitting there.  Lying with a partner requires collaboration, collusion.  Like Sean Connery in Entrapment, I work alone. Partners fuck it up.  I had to fake sleep the entire flight, missing the beverage service AND the snack.  I think that M. ate my pretzels.  In fact, I am sure of it.

I resigned myself to the fact that opportunities to pursue my hobby would be limited to business trips and other solo adventures.  And then, the unthinkable.

It was our wedding.  A beautiful day, if I do say so myself.  We were at the reception and had just been treated to three of the most wonderful and touching speeches.  Truly, I was moved.  Not a dry eye at my table (couldn't see beyond that for the tears and I am not a sentimental person).  I guess that K. decided that we needed a little comic relief, because she proceeded to tell the entire crowd gathered there for the blessed union that the bride is a confessed, compulsive liar. And... had been doing it for years.

(let me give you a moment to just get your arms around that)

Suddenly, 132 people knew my most intimate secret.  My husband's v. conservative family, my new co-workers, the rectors from our church, MY GRANDPARENTS... everyone I knew and loved now knew that I lied for FUN.  In fairness to K., I never told her NOT to tell anyone.  I kind of assumed she would know better.  It certainly never crossed the threshold of my mind that she would be so public in her disclosure... My bad.  People laughed, it was all in good fun. 

But after the wedding, a friend of M.'s family took me aside and said "Well, at least your friend K. didn't talk at the rehearsal dinner.  We all might have missed this beautiful wedding." Super. But... that isn't even the worst of it.

Now, I can't really ever enjoy my flights.  Every time we go visit M.'s family in Ohio, they ask me who I was on the flight up.  I have tried to explain that I don't do it anymore, but they still ask, insist on hearing the stories and re-telling the betrayal to everyone who hasn't already heard it the 20 times before.

It isn't anonymous anymore...  it isn't secret.  I can't enjoy it because I know that at least 132 other people know that I am doing it.

I guess that I will have to go back to eating paste in the closet, listening to Celine Dion CDs.

*I don't remember how they found out. I am sure that I confided in some guilt-inducing drunken stupor.

A secret, Part 1

I understood when I married M. that I would have to make some sacrifices... and I do so happily (he is that cute). I am no longer allowed to watch "Law and Order" marathons without being informed that "we have seen this one like 4 times" (i know it, but that isn't the point).  I am sometimes subjected to demonstrations of his "special combat warrior" skills*.  I can not just blow my money away on shoes and handbags without consulting with him first. You get the idea... There is however, one sacrifice that I did not realize I would have to make. Something that I would have to give up as a function of just being married.  No, it is not what you think and if you are going to keep your mind in the gutter like that, shame on you.

I lie.  I lie to strangers.  On planes.

And I have done this for YEARS.  Prolly all the time.

I don't know why I do this, or even how it started.  But somewhere along the line, I decided that if people felt OK about disturbing me on flights, I felt OK about lying to them for a solid 2-4 hours (depending on destination).   I have told people that I am an artist, a nanny for some rotten spoiled kid, a historical consultant for films, a struggling actress**, and (my personal favorite) an oceanographer.  I used to think that it gave me a way to test drive my day dreams, but really I think that I just liked making shit up.

Now, before you get your panties all in a bundle, there are some rules of engagement... feel free to employ should you decide to give this a go (believe me, it is addictive and somewhat exhilarating).

1.  Never say you are a doctor, lawyer, or financial planner.  This could get you into a lot of trouble.
2.  Never, ever, ever lie about your health.  That is just sick.
3.  Don't bite off more than you can chew.

The real key to the task is to keep it simple. Have a reasonable amount of information on whatever you are lying about and never provide too much information.  The way that people get stuck lying is that they give out too much fucking information.  A brief illustration:

Person 1:  What do you do for a living?
Person 2:  I am an aerospace engineer for NASA, have been for like 15 years. It is a great job and I live right there in Houston.  Other day, in fact, I had lunch with Buzz Lightyear. What do you do?
Person 1:  I am a taste-tester.
Person 2:  Really?
Person 1: Yep.
Person 2:  How long you been doing that?
Person 1:  About 6 months.
Person 2:  How do you get involved with that?
Person 1:  Well, my uncle works for this ice cream company and told me that they were looking for people to come in and test new flavors...
Person 2: Does it pay well?
Person 1: Pays the rent...
Person 2: So, what is the worst flavor you have ever tasted?
Person 1: mmmm, none are really all that bad.  I don't like nuts, so I never like the nut flavors...  probably chocolate pistachio.

HINT:  both people are lying.  But in my book Person 1 is believable because he/she waits for Person 2 to ask more questions before blowing the load.

I realize that you may think less of me and come to doubt the authenticity of subsequent posts due to my confession, but it is what it is.  Don't judge me because I am sharing.

Now, why have I had to sacrifice my little habit since getting married?  Reasons are two-fold...  read on in part 2.

* more on this ridiculousness later. The kid is going to poke his own eye out on day.

** people love to get involved with famous people...  even marginally, potentially famous people... even not famous people at all (like me).  you would not believe how many people confess to "i think that i saw you in that..."

Run Away, Run Away

Am I the only person in the whole of U.S.A that just doesn't care about the "Runaway Bride?"  I recognize that by devoting energy to writing about her, I am, in fact, indicating some kind of vested interest in her situation... trust me.  I don't care, but my job requires me to monitor the news so unfortunately, I am informed.

I can understand how people in her community would care and feel the need for an explanation for her act.  But as I have mentioned, I live in Texas.  Her actions did not affect me, my family, my friends, my tax dollars, etc.  And I believe that the same may be said for 99% of Americans.  So why... WHY? have we been subjected to this story on national news for 7 whole days. 

People run away from their problems and do stupid things everyday, perhaps CNN can dedicate a whole channel to it and then get back to actual news.  What makes this young woman's mistake seem so horrible is the intense media scrutiny.  So the thing that burns me the most is this...

My local CBS station is running a promo for a "important special report" -- How can you tell if your loved one is headed towards a wedding crisis! As if this is some serious disease, like post-partum depression, an EPIDEMIC...

Do we all need a healthy dose of perspective?  Prolly all the time.