Some Good

About two weeks after this happened, we discovered a family of kittens living under our deck. See...



There were four orange kittens and a mom hiding there. What's interesting is that when we found Oliver in the street I was afraid he was the one who'd come to eat when I put food out and meow all the time. It was a raspy, growly meow that I liked to hear. Turns out, it was this momma cat. I've named her Harley.



They moved out after about a week and headed for our neighbor Fred's backyard, but we still see them around. And, we've been visited by the new kitten family (we call mom Harris, she has blue eyes) living in the empty yard next door.

All of this is by way of saying, this almost makes up for Oliver. Though, I do worry about those kittens a lot.

My Weekend Was...

Eventful.

Friday was...


Guster!

A walk around the Arch grounds taking photos with HUBS
A free riverfront concert from Guster
A fireworks display over the river
A walk through the drunken denizens of Laclede's Landing
A snack at Morgan Street Brewery
A trip home at midnight that took a half hour to go 10 blocks
Fun


Snap, crackle, pop, bang

Saturday was...


Yum cubed

Cooking fried cinnamon toast, an omelet and bacon for a late breakfast
Eating Pillsbury Break 'n' Bake Cinnabon cookies right after
Seeing Happy-Go-Lucky & Grey Gardens (the Drew & Jessica version) & liking them
Taking a long nap with HUBS
Leaving at 9pm for dinner at La Salsa
Loving the new restaurant
Impulsively driving around for a showing of (500) Days of Summer
Catching a band playing in the Loop
Finding out 411 will give you movie show times

Sunday was...

Blissfully staying at home all day
Getting work done
Resting
Eating
Enjoying

Hope you had a good weekend too.

Internet, Why Didn't You Tell Me?

Oh my God, y'all...

Last night HUBS and I went to see Julie & Julia. It's a really good movie and I'll be reviewing it here next week. It's the rare girly movie that has nothing to do with finding a man or keeping a man. Finally, you Hollywood fuckers!

Anyway, that wasn't my revelation. We went bowling after the movie and I sucked ass really hard. I did so bad it actually depressed me. So when we went to the grocery store later to find HUBS some black cherries, I looked around for something I could snack on past 10pm that wouldn't make me feel worse about myself. I stopped in the jelly isle and saw the Lemon Curd.

I thought, really? On toast? Oh heavenly heavens, yes! On toast! I got home, grilled up some cinnamon bread in the skillet with some of that I Can't Believe This Is What We're Calling Butter, Now stuff and slathered on a thin layer of the curd, just in case it tasted like ass.

But, OHMYJESUS...It was so fucking good! Why has no one told me about this before? I mean, I'd heard of it but I didn't know it could be a breakfast/snack implement. Dammit internet! Let me know things!

Really, everyone should just run out right now and try the stuff. Open the jar right in the store and just stick your tongue in it. You will be so, so glad you did.


Photo from here

For Women Who Have Considered Rogaine When Vitamins Are Not Enuff

We know I wouldn't look this good without hair, right?

At least I was considering it, until I read the website and saw it only works for hereditary female baldness. Dammit stress related hair loss!

Not Bad

I'm sorta happy for now.

I had a pretty good day yesterday. I feel like I have irons in the fire and I'm starting to really get things going for myself.

Looking over what I wrote on Monday, I realized I completely left out the good stuff that's happened lately. Like, I got more (Paid, yay!!) work through the website I've been writing for. So now I make a whole $200 a week. Not nearly enough to get us out of the hole, but a definite step in the right direction (you know, the 'more money' direction).

Also, and this is really huge for me, I published a book of my photos on Blurb.com. I know! Now...I still need to try to publicize it. If there's a photo-lover who's close to you, please check out the book. I think it would make a great gift, especially if they enjoy what I like to call "urban artifacts", old signs and doors and such.


Holy shit! This is my book!!

Take a look here. And, you can also vote for me to get the People's Choice Award for their Photography Now contest on the same page. I'd love it if you could help me out!

While I was working on my interview questions yesterday for a piece I'm writing for the website, I came across a few open freelance positions at a well-known, used-to-be-underground local weekly magazine. I was so excited that I dropped the research and applied immediately. I'd be writing about food again, and hopefully getting more money so, keep your fingers crossed for me!

And, two weeks ago I happened upon one of those e-invite sites, pingg.com. I'd actually never heard of it before, but I looked around a bit because they had some really cool art for some of the invites. Then I read some of the artist profiles and realized none of them are famous. So I sent an email to the submission lady and she said she'd love to consider my stuff for their artist's series. On Monday (she told me to wait until after she got back from vacation) I sent her 30 images to peruse. I'm fuckin' excited about this, too! Again, dear readers, cross your fingers!

What else? Oh yeah, I'm considering putting an ad on Craigslist as a funeral photographer for hire. I know it sounds strange, but at two of the three funerals I went to earlier this year I was actually asked to document the occasion. There has to be someone else who'd like this service, right?

And, look at my photoblog. I'm so proud of myself for figuring out how to post really big photos. The small pictures were kind of a waste, since my file sizes are so big. This is much, much better!

Look at me, internet! I'm doing things!

I Am Very Inconsistent

I've had that thing happen again where some bad stuff happened and I wanted to write about it, but just couldn't. So, I didn't write at all for a month and a day. Here's what's been going on...

1) July 4th started out fine, HUBS and I went to review a bar/club for my $100 a week job and the food and drinks were good. We were planning to go see fireworks later that night. It was a nice afternoon...Until we pulled up to our house.

A smallish orange cat (who looked a lot like the 5 to 8 other smallish orange cats we have around here)was laying in the street near our neighbor's SUV. I parked as fast as I could, jumping out and running over to him (it was a him, I checked). Someone had hit him and just kept going. I picked him up and tried to make him move, we were planning to get him to the emergency clinic, but he was already gone.


Here lies Oliver...

I then stood in front of our house, holding the smallish, dead orange cat and cried for about 20 minutes. HUBS finally got me to put him down and went to get a shovel so we could bury him. While HUBS dug I thought of a name for the little guy, Oliver. We buried him under our flower bed in the back, and I cried for probably a total of three hours. Someone hit him, and just left him in the street...

Needless to say that ruined our 4th of July. We tried to watch fireworks later, but left the house too late to get any kind of good spot. That pissed me off even more. For about a week after this sadness we tried in earnest to get another cat from the Humane Society but couldn't decide between two of them (luckily one got adopted), and then we ran out of money anyway. Which leads me to #2.

2) By July 14 it was pretty clear that we were totally out of money. I used up the last of my unemployment extension at the end of June and my $100/week gig doesn't exactly help cover much. HUBS moved all our bills (even the mortgage and my student loan - which I've never been late on in the 12 years I've been paying it) to his next pay day. I suspended our savings deductions and transferred what little was in there to pay bills. Then I made a really hard decision: I went to my mom for money. Again.


We suck.

P.T. helped us out in April with a huge loan that kept us afloat for about 6 weeks. Right after she gave us that money (literally a day later) she got laid off herself. She kept telling me that she was ok financially, so I took a chance and called her and asked her for anything she could help with. I immediately regretted it and felt like a stupid child. I'm a married woman who's been on her own for 11 years and twice in just a few months I've had to ask my mother for money.

She gave us another huge loan, enough so that we could pay things a couple days late instead of 10. I went to pick the money up after doing something that may help me get a job. Hence, #3.

3) The unemployment offices have free job workshops that I've completely neglected the entire time I've been jobless. I finally decided to go to the resume and interviewing workshops on the 14th and 15th of this month. What did I find out? My resume, which I thought was pretty good, was a total piece of crap.

Why? Two reasons...a) I had too many types of things on there (reception/admin stuff, film/entertainment stuff and writing/photography stuff), which made me look like I didn't know what I wanted instead of looking multi-talented and well-rounded and b) I hadn't listed any accomplishments in my jobs.



Now, I'd heard of this "accomplishment" thing, but I hated my receptionist/admin work so hard that it was difficult for me to think in terms of doing anything in those positions that could be labeled as such. It took me a week after the workshop to finally redo my resume, and once I started thinking, it wasn't so hard. The lady who ran the seminars actually looked it over (I decided to start with dreaded recep/admin work since it is what I've done the most of) and approved it.

It's been a few days since then, I haven't used it to apply anywhere. What the fuck is wrong with me, you say? I'm scared. Scared that even now that I have the perfect resume I still won't be able to get a job.

I'm not just inconsistent, I'm monumentally fucked up.

4) I've also applied for another UE extension. I should find out this week if I've gotten it. Cross your finger for me people. And if you pray, please do that too.

Vacationary

Straight up, straight down.

I know. I've been gone for a while. Well, I was recovering from our three day road trip to Eureka Springs, Arkansas. I picked this spot on a lark since neither HUBS nor myself had ever been there. And, I can honestly say that I wouldn't have picked it had I known that the whole cute little town was exclusively UP HILL.

We arrived on Tuesday two weeks ago after about a six hour drive. We headed into their historic downtown, which was blissfully empty due to the semi-late hour. We walked and took pictures a bit. It was kinda hilly, but not horrible. I was hot but since the sun was going down the heat wasn't that bad.

But then there was Wednesday. We got out right at the peak of the day, noon, when the sun is high in the sky and the universe is trying to kill me. First, let me say that this is NOT a town to drive in. They have a trolley that'll take you from most of the major hotels around the sites downtown; use it people! We didn't and paid for it by getting lost on their winding, hilly, embarrassingly narrow, not-laid-out-in-a-grid-at-all-albeit-pretty streets.


Most streets are 1/3 of this size. I'm not even playing.

Also? We went during the middle of the week thinking it wouldn't be that crowded. Um, it was like freakin' 4th of July down there. There were that many people. Hence our trouble parking and finally having to settle on a paid lot ($5 for 3 hours). Hi, Arkansas, I know you don't know us, but we don't have much money and HATE paying just to leave our car somewhere. Dammit, Arkansas!

So the first thing we did was go to this pizza place I'd researched. It was really hard to find, we were both hungry and since HUBS was driving this means he got really frustrated while I remained fairly calm. All the parking spots on the street were either taken or marked NO PARKING. (That's right, obvious parking spots in parking lots were actually labelled NO. PARKING. Fuck you Arkansas.) So, we headed for the paid lots we saw the day before.

Here's where things got hairy for me. In case you don't already know, I'm not in very good shape, I sweat a lot, I dislike heights, I abhor being hot and/or sweaty and I do not like to climb. In order to get back to the pizza place I had to: get hot, sweaty and climb heights. This lead to a copious amount of cursing on my part while HUBS remained fairly calm. There are several sets of stairs you can take from the parking to the higher streets where the pizza place was located. The one we took had (I counted) 89 steps. Jesus. Then we got inside the place, which had a bar and a restaurant, and guess what? Yes! The restaurant was up another 25 steps. I yelled out something like "Jesus' Ass!!" and soon realized that the people sitting in the restaurant heard me pretty clearly. Oh, well. Sorry, Arkansas.


Stairs like this were literally all over the place. Clearly the town was carved out of a mountain...and not very well.

Pizza=Awesome. Really some of the best we've ever had. Homemade herbed crust, huge slices, cheesy, and a good Parmesan spill courtesy of HUBS. We ate, cooled down, had two huge sodas, asked our helpful server dude for directions to our next site seeing adventure and took off.


HUBS dressing up our pizza.

We hit more steps (up, of course), walked up hill a bit and then things leveled off. I was grateful and could relax enough to take pictures as we walked. Then, we hit this:



I don't know if you can really grasp the height and scariness from the Polaroid, but that little wooden path on the right was about 2 feet wide, it went almost straight up (so much so that you had to lean forward when walking so as not to fall backwards), and to the right of the path was a straight drop onto the roofs of several houses (maybe 30 or 40 feet, definitely a kill-worthy fall). By the time we reached the top I was dripping with sweat and my t-shirt was actually soaked through. Yay! Wet t-shirt contest! You're welcome, Arkansas!

Then we had another challenge, a walk through the woods. Almighty God, that state really tried my nerves. There were anonymous houses to the left of the stone path through Jasonland and scary-ass woods on the right. There were spots in there where I thought I was going to just die, people. Thank God it was at least daytime.

We went through all this to get here:



An old church where you enter through what used to be the bell tower. It was kinda pretty but not exactly worth all the trouble. After our Lord of the Rings like journey to get to the place I expected there to be free gold or something that would end the coming apocalypse there. No such luck. We really should have taken the trolley...

Then we had to make our way down. When we hit the main part of downtown again, I had walked and climbed so much that I felt weak and my legs were rubbery, like I was going to collapse. We ducked into a souvenir shop for cool air and the lady behind the counter took pity on me and my wet shirt and offered me paper towels. Finally, thank you Arkansas!


Down was scarier than up. I had to lean back to not roll face first down the hill.

Even with all the trials I have to say I had a good time. We ate good food, saw new things, I got lots of good pictures and I challenged myself without knowing I was going to.

What else happened while we were there? We went to WalMart Tuesday night and got caught in the strangest electrical storm either of us had ever seen. Ran inside the store once we realized the noise we heard was sheets of rain slowly coming toward us. Got trapped inside WalMart while the hellish rain died down. Went without reliable internet access for two days. Changed hotel rooms to get one with a fridge/microwave combo and a better toilet (the toilet was still crap). Had hotel sex. Saw a deer just hanging out at the entrance to downtown. Ate awesome BBQ, ice cream and funnel cake. Sat on our balcony and watched a woman play catch with her dog down below. Walked a scary wooden bridge over the street. Tried to get to an all-you-can-eat catfish place before they closed, but the stupid street numbers were wrong so we ended up eating leftover pizza, tacos and fries for dinner. I walked through a spider web at a restaurant, found it on my neck a few minutes later, killed it with my utensils and then pretended I found the squished spider on my napkin to the waitress so she'd get me another one. Drove a half hour out of our way (while eating funnel cake) to get to an attraction that turned out to be closed that day.


A whole shop devoted to funnel cake? Yes!

Yeah, that was pleasantly eventful. Where are you going this summer?

Dammit Summer!

I think the sun hates me right back.

Oh fuck, here we go. Yesterday when I went out to feed the cats at 9am it was already 83 degrees outside. All hot, heavy and sticky. We are now officially in summer. No more cooling down at night and then getting ridiculously hot during the day, oh no. It will now be ass-the-fuck tropical damn hot 24 hours a day and seven days a week. Joy.

My deep hatred for summer is well-documented on this blog. I literally cannot stand it. Yesterday morning's heat sent me into a deep, summer-is-here related funk. I had things to do, but couldn't. All I could think was "Jesus' ass, it's hot out there!" I took a nap three hours after waking up because of it.

Summer just takes the life out of me. I can't concentrate. I want to move even less than I normally do. The very idea of things makes me tired. Anything other than sleep is exhausting. It's a miserable way to live.

Really, can't we stagger the heat? You know, have an 85 degree day on Monday and then a 65 degree day Tuesday. Wouldn't that make more sense? I bet less people would kill and be murdered during summers if we worked it like that.

Oh. That Finally Makes Some Sense.

I bet HUBS looked like this when he got his allowance as a kid. Then he went and blew it all on his first Playboy.

Somewhere around May 7 I got another call from the unemployment people. I have to say this was the first conversation I'd had with them since they took my benefits away where the person on the other end made the whole situation make sense.

Here's what the guy told me: I had two pools of money available that they could give me benefits from, and part of the investigation process was to see which I was eligible for. One stash was from an extension on my original claim, that I was eligible for immediately (YES!!!), the other was government money that I'd only be able to get if I was actually an employee somewhere (as opposed to doing freelance work). To get that money I'd need to make $1300 as an actual employee.

Another thing I didn't know? You can only file for unemployment against a company one time, and get those benefits for one year (unless you qualify for an extension of those benefits). If you're making a new claim, it has to be with a new company.

It took a while for me to really understand what he was saying to me. But he was blissfully patient. It all boiled down to HUBS and I getting a huge deposit (from all the weeks we got nothing) on the day we did BOWL STROLL 2009!!! We'll actually be ok for a little bit.

Thank God.

Are We Alcoholics Yet?

We drank all these and more, y'all! The one in the lower left corner? That's absinthe and it was outlawed for 95 years and only recently became legal in the states! It made HUBS' tongue numb!

Back in early April I got a $100 a week job reviewing bars and clubs for an entertainment website. They want me to focus on booze, which is not my strong suit. In fact, until I got this job I had never had a full drink of any sort in my whole life. I never liked the taste of alcohol and didn't see a reason to booze it up just because other people did.

Well, maybe you can chalk this up to my recent high stress levels, but...um, I've been drinking. A lot. Like, sometimes, two whole drinks a week. That, my internet friends, is a ton for me. And, guess what? I kinda like it. I never finish anything I end up not liking, but when I get something good (for me that means sweet and light on the booze) drinking the whole thing makes me feel very adult. Like I know exactly what I want (I don't), how to get it (I wish) and how to act once I reel it in (I couldn't possibly).

We each have to have at least two drinks for my editor to be satisfied we tested enough of each bar/club's spirits. This has meant a lot of mixed drinks for me and HUBS. And since we don't get reimbursed for food and drink on top of the hundred they pay me, we usually feel the need to finish everything. Which means if I don't like something HUBS will try to drink it all, along with his two drinks...Which also means HUBS sometimes comes away rip-roaring-rootin'-tootin-thinks-peeing-in-the-alley-is-fun drunk. Let's all pray my sweet HUBS doesn't become a lushy hobo because of this, ok?

Thank God for small jobs. Now, if I could only rack up about five or six other small gigs that each pay $100/week. Fuck, you guys. HUBS and I would be set!

Bowl-O-Rama!!!

Turned out to be more fun than I thought.

HUBS has been bugging me since the beginning of the year to go bowling. I was not enthusiastic about this at all. The last time I bowled was when I was a senior in high school. There was a horribly boring week (but a blissfully sweat-free one) where they made us bowl for gym class. So, each day we'd hop on a school bus and head to a bowling alley down the street and around the corner. I hated it. I never knocked any pins down. It was boring. I had to wear other people's shoes. And I hated every single minute of it.

Somewhere around early March HUBS bought some bowling shoes in anticipation of us bowling, and it only took another month and a half for us to actually get ourselves to an alley. But, when we did...HOLY GOD DID I EVER HAVE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNN!!!


I love neon signs...

We went to a relatively new and very trendy alley downtown called Flamingo Bowl. I kept getting strikes and picking up spares when I needed to! The shoes fit fine! I brought my own Lysol to sanitize them! I found the perfect weight ball with the perfect size finger holes for my massive digits! There was pizza! It was good! We gave the leftovers to a homeless guy who promptly threw it in the trash because he really wanted cash for booze! It was a great night!


My ideal bowling ball will look like this...Pleasantly girly.

I think I managed to do so well because of all the no job/no money/no unemployment cash stress I've been under. There have been so many times lately where I really, really wanted to do damage to something (someone) and simply couldn't. Throwing a heavy ball into unsuspecting pins seemed to relieve a lot of tension for me. And HUBS. Our entertainment budget mainly consists of Netflix/Redbox rentals and Taco Bell. We were both dying for an outlet.


The last place we hit was the closest to our house. They have the perfect alley size, good eats, are pretty clean and they issue coupons...Swoon!

This past Saturday we took the experiment a step further by implementing BOWL STROLL 2009!!! It's our bowl-a-rrific version of a pub crawl. See, HUBS had compiled a list of alleys he wanted to try so we could decide which would be worth our time long-term. So, in one afternoon we bought me a pair of bowling shoes and then proceeded to bowl one game at two different alleys and two games at a third. It. WAs. AWESOME!!!!!!!


Funnel Cake in french fry form? Yes, please!

There was cool food (Funnel fries and deep fried cauliflower, anyone?), old alleys, trendy alleys, giant sodas, wild colors, birthday parties, people bowling worse than me, bowl ephemera, pin up girls and a ton of exercise. I think I'm still tired from all the activity and it's kinda fabulous. I didn't bowl as well this time, but I can honestly say that I now want my own bowling ball. It shall be in the fuchsia/purple family. And it will be stunning.

The Rule of 3s

My uncle, middle, at 18 and my mom, in the red, at 16.

Ok, I haven't written in a long time, and the seeming law of nature I refer to in the title is why. In the past month, HUBS and I have had three family members die. This is the tribute post I kept meaning to write. Every time I seriously thought about publishing it, someone else died. So, now that we've gotten to the magic number...Here goes.

My uncle Jerry died one month ago today, Sunday, April 19 2009. He was 60 years old and had at least 32 health problems (more than anyone in the family knew about). He had been home one day from the physical therapy center he had been in for about a month after having a serious set of heart attacks back in February. The abiding feeling in the family is that he knew it was coming and wanted to die at home.

Things he did:
- When my mom was 5 he hid her from the police when she hit a boy in the head with a baseball bat and knocked the kid unconscious. Jerry was 7 at the time.
- Had mostly white and friends at a time when there wasn't a lot of mingling between black and white people.
- Would tell you not to mess up his hair.
- Sat me and my two cousins in our grandmother's easy chair back in the '70s (when all three of us could fit in one chair) and played his guitar for and sang. He left me his guitar.
- Was the requisite cranky, dirty-old-man uncle (even when he was young), who would still do anything for you.
- Told my aunt, during my parents divorce, "If he (my asshole father) makes that baby (my mom) cry one more time I'm going to kill him."
- Literally kept track of every cent he ever spent. When we descended upon his house to try locating his insurance papers, we found boxes and boxes filled with old ledgers, receipts and cancelled checks. How much did he pay for that Domino's pizza on December 3, 1990? Wait, what was the cost of those cigarettes on June 21, 1977 again?
- Didn't believe in owning things. He bought a new car about every three years, and whenever he got close to paying off his house he'd take out a new mortgage on it. To him, if you didn't own anything, nobody could really take anything away from you.
- Made the two hour drive to get me from college when I had my nervous breakdown. Bought me Burger King on the way home.
- Dated one woman for 27 years and helped raise her daughter from a previous marriage, but never married himself.

HUBS' grandmother died almost a week later on April 23, 2009. She was 92. She had Alzheimer's and had declined rapidly in the weeks leading up to her death.

Things she did:
- Was the requisite cool grandmother.
- Told HUBS dirty jokes when he was a kid.
- Survived The Depression, when her mom left her and a couple of her sisters in a children's home. Her mom took her sisters home eventually, but never came to get her.
- Vowed never to leave her kids for any reason.
- She reportedly had a "spaghetti dance" which included lots of hip shaking and arm waving while the noodles were cooking.
- Was game for camping and canooing.
- Helped her husband build two houses.
- Was quite spunky and fashionable in her day.
- Always waved and smiled at me while she was in the extended care home, even though she never knew who I was.


I should have made her tea cakes more often.

My godmother's mom died the Thursday before Mother's Day on May 7, 2009. She was 95. She was the 7th of 14 kids. Only three are left now.

Things she did:
- Mothered all of her younger siblings, without prompting from her parents.
- Wanted to be a nurse, but there wasn't enough money for her to continue her education at that level. Her daughter and one of her sisters each became nurses.
- Studied cosmetology and did the hair of the sick and shut in.
- Ran a store with her husband and daughter (my godmother, when she was a kid) called The Three Nichols (their last name), that my mom went to as a child long before she and my godmother were friends.
- Said "And that is that!" when she was done having a conversation with you.
- Hated the St. Louis Cardinals baseball team. Forever.
- Hot combed my hair a few times when I was little.
- Loved jewelry, but still parted with one of her gorgeous, pearl clustered, gold rings to give me for my high school graduation.
- When one of her younger brothers came home from college complaining about how hard it was and how he might quit, she gave him $5 and told him to take his butt back to school.

We miss you all.

Easter Sunday

To my absolute horror.

I hope everyone out there who celebrates Easter had a good one this year. Especially since mine kinda sucked.

I was up early, trying to get some things done before HUBS and I had to leave for the two hour trip to his folks in mid-Missouri. I could have sworn we should have some cash in our account left over from his last paycheck. I looked at our account. Not only did we not have anything left over, there wasn't enough to cover all our bills until his next pay day.

We'd be about $400 short. Having already paid some of last months bills with one of my credit cards I felt absolutely desperate and panicked. I called the only person I could think to: my mom.

I called on the pretense of only wishing her a Happy Easter, just so I could back out of asking for money if I needed to. She asked how I was and I broke down. I told her about not getting unemployment for the past 6 weeks and that we had no money to pay our bills and that we've been living off my credit cards and that we never have money for groceries. Stuff I had been avoiding telling her because I was hoping it would get better; hoping it wouldn't come to this.

PT told me it would be ok and to stop crying. She asked how much I needed and I told her. She said to calm down and come over.

I didn't feel like putting on clothes, but I knew this unplanned trip would make us late for HUBS' parents, so I did. HUBS was still in bed, I told him I was running to my mom's, kissed him quickly and left. I cried most of the way there.

PT hugged me when I got there. And, I started crying again. Shit, it was days ago now and I'm crying again thinking about the fact that I'm 34 and married and had to ask my mom for money.

She gave us far more than the 400 bucks I asked for. I protested, but took it anyway when she kept counting money out to me. PT tried to cheer me up by telling me that everybody goes through hard times and that right now this is just what I need to deal with. She also revealed that she was without a job for 2 years in the '70s. I figure this was when she was still at home with my grandmother but basically grown.

I thanked PT a lot and left about a half hour after getting there. I cried on the way home, then put a large portion of the cash in the bank.

All of this is a long way of saying that my Easter felt totally fucked. I then had to go to HUBS' family and pretend to be happy that Jesus was risen and I was with his folks, even though all I wanted to do was scream and curl up into a little ball and cry myself tired.

Revelation

I was reading this today and I think I had a breakthrough.

Maybe I can't find a job because that's not what I want. I had "a job" and hated it for 8 of the 9 years and 5 months I was there - no matter what I did. I left that place because I wanted more than just "a job." I wanted to enjoy my work. I wanted to actually use my brain and talents. I wanted freedom. I wanted better money for work I enjoyed and couldn't wait to do.

So, if this is my block to finding work, what does it mean? We need money, another real income, but I will never be happy with "a job." What do I do? Do I stop praying for exactly the thing I don't want (because the Universe knows I don't really want it anyway)? Do I go back to praying for meaningful work I can enjoy? Even if it means I don't work again for another year?

What the hell do I do???

How Could I Have Known?

How I feel: I'm stuck in a tree with my tail in the air and I'm flashing my big orange balls to the world.

Remember how I said I made a huge mistake last Wednesday, without any clue it was going to be a mistake? Well, not only did I not realize I was about to do something stupid, I actually thought I was going to be helping our financial situation. Here goes...

After calling Citibank (they still haven't called me back, by the way) I was feeling bold and decided to do something I'd been meaning to do for a couple months. I called our bank to see about lowering the interest rate on our credit card with them. The only reason we even have the card is because we kept overdrawing our bank account due to my unemployment and getting the card was the only way to have overdraft protection. If your account gets low, they give you a cash advance from the card to cover your checks/payments/bills/what-have-you.

So, this card now has an almost $2500 balance. We pay $20 a week and the interest rate fluctuates between 20% and an astronomical 65% (no, I am not exaggerating). Here, much to my dismay, is what happened:

citygirl: Yeah, I wanted to see if we could lower our interest rate.

credit card bank lady: Ok, let me ask you some financial questions.

ccbl: (after questions about our jobs and income) Alright, I can't lower your interest rate right now because you're only using the card for cash advances. But, I have to tell you that I did lower your credit limit to $2500.

citygirl: Ok...Wait...What?

ccbl: I had to lower the credit limit on the card. With your lack of income right now I can't justify having any more money put on this card. If things change you can always call and ask to have the limit raised.

citygirl: So...Wait. You're saying we now only have $84 left on this card, because you reduced our $8000 limit to $2500, which is right near our current balance. So we have no more cushion?

ccbl: Yes. I'm sorry, it's just not good business for us to have you use this card any more.

citygirl: Ok. Ok...Bye?

I think she may have apologized again before hanging up. So, let me break down what just happened. HUBS and I used to have a cushion if we were running out of money in our bank account to pay for stuff. Now...We don't. All because I just wanted to lower our ridiculous interest rate. That bitch at the credit card took away the cushion. Now if we overdraw our account it'll be just like old times: a $35 charge for going over + whatever the amount is we were trying to pay. Yay!

I managed to remain calm until I got off the phone. And then I started to panic. I called HUBS to let him know what happened and apologized, "How could you have known?" he said.

The more I talked to HUBS the angrier I got and the more I wished I had cursed out the ccbl. No, it wouldn't have done any good, but what did I have to lose at that point? I have literally been daydreaming, all week since then, about the things I should have said to that heifer. Times like these are exactly why God did not give me the power of a witch, because that woman would now be newly unemployed and homeless and if she has a husband he'd be unemployed too. Also, I think I'd make her bald and fat and toothless for good measure.

Holy Jesus, my heart is racing now thinking about it again. All of our credit cards are almost maxed out and now if we overdraw the account we'll just be totally fucked.

To All The Chinese Food Restaurants

Blech. Why couldn't I find a single picture of baby corn looking evil in 7 pages of google image search? It is evil, you know...

Dear Chinese Restaurant Chefs,

Listen up, people. Stop putting baby corn in all your dishes like it's a vegetable. It's not. As far as I'm concerned, it's an abomination. I know it looks like a tiny corn cob, but A) it doesn't actually taste like corn B) it's stupid and C) it makes me feel like a giant, and I don't appreciate that at all baby corn(fucker).

So, stop it already!

Sincerely Yours
citygirl

Do You Know Where You're Going To?

Again with Wednesdays. I have been without unemployment for three weeks and we are suffering financially. I decided to call the UE people again and see what I could do to clear this shit up so I can actually get the money in my UE account.

I was determined to stay calm. This was the first time in a long while that I got a black lady on the phone. She told me the longest part of the review program was over, so that's good. I asked who I could talk to to finally take care of this, and here's how it went:

UE black lady: No one. I'm sorry, but there's a whole process to this and there were people ahead of you. But the longest part of the review is over, so someone should call you any day now and that'll be it.

citygirl: Ok, so, you're sure I can't just talk to somebody and end this right now? I mean, I have no money and I can't find a job and we can't pay our bills. (crying now) I worked for 10 years at one place and I applied at Target and Best Buy but they won't hire me. No one will. I don't know what to do.

UE black lady: Oh honey, I understand, I like to be proactive too and take care of things any way possible as soon as possible, but there's just no way.

citygirl: (crying harder now) See, this started because when I applied for my new extension I answered one stupid question wrong and instead of listing my last full time job I listed my stupid freelance job because they were the last people to pay me. There wasn't a place for me to explain my situation. They wanted all these blanket answers...

UE black lady: Oh, yeah. That'll do it. Anytime there's different information it flags the system and then they have to go through all the reviews and it just takes as long as it takes.

citygirl: (sobbing) So, I have to wait? And, by the time they get everything cleared up I could be out of my house and on the streets. That's how this works?

UE black lady: I am so sorry, but you really can't do anything. I know it seems like we don't care, but we have a process for everything and we have to follow it. Listen, just live your life. Enjoy your family and your friends and live your life. You will be alright. Ok? I'm going to pray for you. You'll be alright.

citygirl: (sobbing and dissolving simultaneously, it's really fun - you should try it) Um (deep breath so I can keep speaking), ok. Ok. Thanks for (more deep breathing) talking to me. Bye.

UE black lady: No problem, sweetheart. Bye, now.

See? This is what I'm talking about. Even though I was crying and hurting and angry she managed to somehow make it a little bit better. This black lady should train all the other UE phone people on how to talk to the distressed unemployed, and she should get a ton of money to do it, too. She may not actually care, but she was able to make it sound like she did. Her voice was calm and clear and she never sounded irritated, rushed or frustrated with me. I love you, UE black lady.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After our conversation I got proactive. I looked around for paid online survey companies and signed up. I made a list of places I haven't applied to that I need to look into. I called Citibank and asked for help with our currently $400+ monthly bill and they're scheduled to call me back today with a new payment plan. I vacuumed every room and the baseboards and even got up all the random cat fluff along the walls that the vacuum doesn't usually get.

I was on a roll. And then I did something stupid. Without any idea that it was going to be stupid.

More on that later.

editor's note: Why is it that when I type "black angel" into a google image search I get all the demonic, scary pictures? Why was it necessary for me to type in "african american angel"? I swear, white people kill me...

Since I Need To Chill

I've made a decision about this here ol' blog o' mine. I'm going to try not to bitch every day. Considering the crap that's going on around here with my no-job-having-no-unemployment-getting-fucked-up-credit-card self, the (I hope) understandable temptation is to blog-bitch day in and day the fuck out. But...

I need some way to relax a bit. A way to push the world away and laugh again. And so do you, fair reader. So, I'll get back to bitching tomorrow (do I ever have a story to tell about today), but until then, enjoy this:

Wednesday Was Bad

This is how my mind feels. See those bright spots? That's my anger.

I have now gone two weeks without getting my unemployment benefits. HUBS and I have no money, he got paid on the 13th and after bills (which hit within a few days) we had $50 left in our account. I reluctantly moved most of the money I've been scraping to save ($10 a week since last August, which amounted to almost $300)into our account to take care of the mountain of additional bills that we'll need to pay before he gets paid again.

Why am I not getting my UE money, even though I have a balance in there, you ask? The short answer is that when I filed to get this new extension I fucked up ONE GODDAMN QUESTION. The UE people freaked out, called me twice (in conversations that totalled almost an hour) with bullshit questions I'd already answered and now my case has to go to committee before I can get anymore money.

The first UE conversation was Monday. I talked to that heifer for half an hour. Then Wednesday another chick called me with even more questions. She was trying to explain something to me, but it made no fucking sense so I told her that. Then I began to cry, curse and screamed something to her like "I've been unemployed for 14 months so give me my fucking money so I can pay my fucking bills!" and hung up the phone.

HUBS had been sleeping in (he took a sick day), but he came out to try to comfort me. After he kissed me on the head I threw my mug filled with ice water across the room and smashed a ceramic coaster against a bookcase when I threw that too.

I then went into the bedroom where HUBS had retreated to protect himself from flying objects and screamed. Louder than I've screamed since I had my nervous breakdown in college.

"Do you know I applied at Target," I asked HUBS in the scariest voice ever. "And they sent me an email turning me down? I worked at the same company for almost 10 years and I can't get a fucking job at Target. But every fucking 15 year old in the fucking country can walk into the store and get a job. What the fuck did I do wrong? This feels personal. Like the universe is really, specifically fucking with ME."

I'm starting to wonder if I'm supposed to be doing something special with this time, and that's why I can't get a job yet. It's as if the powers that be have given me this time, but I can't get over, you know, not having enough money for food and bills and stuff to get out of my head and figure out what I'm supposed to be fucking doing.

I seem to have a knack for doing the wrong thing at the wrong time. And not being able to make the best of it. At. All.

No Contest!

How I hope to look soon. Minus the white, male, stupid pants part.

In these dark times I've found I need something to make me happy. Something that makes me feel like I'm working and doing and having a positive impact on my own life. What did I rediscover recently? Contests.

Back when I was a miserably employed receptionist who got things done quickly (or had nothing to do and was bored) and needed to look like I was busy, I discovered online contests. Coworkers and employers would see me typing away and believe I was working my ass off. In reality I was entering my name, address and email so I could win a set of Buffy the Vampire Slayer dvds, Trivial Pursuit games and makeup.

I did, in fact, win those things and more. Merchandise from tv shows, several dvds, body products, on and on. Everyday, without fail, I spent at least an hour with my contests. Then I (I thought) moved up in the company. I was a full fledged administrative assistant with little free time behind my desk, so I abandoned my efforts.

Then, a couple weeks ago, I decided to revisit one of my old sweeps haunts that still resides in my home favorites menu. Holy crap, they had some good stuff. So I entered. And now, I'm addicted again. I concentrate on sweeps where I can win money (we need it so bad) or products that I can easily sell or reasonably use.

It's amazing how much entering makes me feel proactive. More so than applying for jobs, or reworking my resume even.

Wish me luck.

The Good News

To all the fuckers who refuse to hire me: MY WORK IS IN THIS BOOK, BITCHES!!!

I forgot to tell you guys that I finally got the book where some of my writing and photos were published for winning that photo contest. I wasn't expecting the stuff until middle of the month but I got the package on Monday the 2nd. Very fast!


Part of the prize was this camera. It has my NAME ON IT. EEEEEEEEEEE!!! DianaF+ Colette Edition

I don't know how many of you have wanted to have your writing/art published and had it happen for you, but this was awesome! I've had stories published in local things before, but this is a book. Anyone in the world could buy it and see my words and my photography. When I saw it, I cried a little. And I'm such a sap that I'm crying a little now just thinking about that moment again.

I had completely forgotten to tell my mom about the whole contest thing, when I told her about all the cool stuff: camera with my name on it, words and photos in a published book, pics on display at a store in Paris (Colette is a French clothing store that co-sponsored the contest)...Well PT just kept saying how proud she was of me.

There's some cool stuff in this book. My essay and photos were dedicated to my pitiful lack of employment. I was so pleasantly surprised when I won. I've got four pages in the book, which amounted to a total of 10 photographs published. Here's a sample:


I'm still kicking myself for forgetting to include my photoblog address in my bio.

Despite the fact that my unemployment checks are in jeopardy yet again, this my friends, is my one glimmer of hope.


editor's note: I really need to cut my fingernails...It's gettin' kinda hard to type.

Sex and Popcorn

You know, I've had quite the fuzzy-headed day. I woke up insanely early for an unemployed person (7:27 am), because I had to try to get through to the MO unemployment people. I did not get my money this week, I got a letter saying they had some questions and would call me Monday. But, I wanted to try to get this ball rolling again ASAP.

Guess what? After getting up early, holding for about 10 minutes (not that bad for them) and talking to a chick, I still have no idea what the problem is. I have to wait for the call on Monday. I'm pretty nervous about this, especially since the phone chick was all "Wow, they usually don't need more info for an extension. I really don't know what this could be", after I read her the letter they sent. Thanks MO UE chick, I'm pretty sure I'd be tons better at your job than you.

I stayed up for a bit, playing online, eating biscuits and doing a load of laundry. Then I got into bed with a couple Shape magazines I needed to return to the library today with HUBS still asleep (he took today off). I now realize again why I can't read Shape and Self. Too many bitches losing weight and keeping it off. It's depressing.

You know what's been bugging me for almost a month now? My tailbone. After sitting in bed or on the couch too long it starts to hurt like hell. What does that mean? And who the fuck do I call to get it to stop?

Here's how the rest of my day went:

read magazines
slept
ate lunch
napped on couch
returned things to library right before close
took cash out of atm so i can pay therapist tomorrow and hair dresser next weekend
watched McClintock! with HUBS and discovered it was ass
had MADHOT SEX SEX SEXY TIME
ate Orville Redenbacher Buttery Salt and Pepper popcorn
blog
made HUBS make us french fries...

Now! HUBS, make fries NOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!

Come On, People!

So, I picked up the trash in my yard today. You know what? There should not be trash in my yard. Especially not as much as there usually is. Have we stopped teaching children to use trash cans around here? Were they not taught to respect other people's property, or nature or themselves for fuck's sake?

Apparently not. Do you know how many empty bags of Flamin' Hot Cheetos I picked up? How many bare chicken bones? Tell you what. Why don't you stay at home with your paper plates, nacho chips, gummy bears, beer cans, grocery bags, dog biscuits and Styrofoam containers.

Idiots...

No. I...Am DONE.

What I will no longer be wearing.

Ok, people. I've had it. I will never, ever again succumb to the idea that a "body shaper" can be at all comfortable and actually keep my rolls in check.

I managed to avoid these things until I bought one last summer (at my mom's suggestion) to wear under my wedding dress. It was expensive and horrible and after having it on for roughly 2.6 seconds I ripped it off and returned it to the store.

Now, HUBS and I were in Target the other day and I found some cool Mossimo trouser-style jeans for only 20 bucks. They fit, but my thighs look a bit lumpalicious in the crotch-to-thigh area. I decided to try the Assets line of body shaper. It's by the same chick who created Spanx, but it's much cheaper.

I tried it on today, and, you know what? It's ass. Total ass. The package (and website, for that matter) promise that this shit is comfy and will hold your blubbery bullshit in. But none of that is even remotely true.

First of all, it was a bitch and a 1/2 to put on. I actually broke into a sweat pulling the thing on. When I finally got it up, it rolled down once it hit my back fat. Big no-no. Then, I looked in the mirror. And what did I see? Everything. Every roll and flab pocket was just as exposed as if I were naked. This crap held NOTHING IN.

Why did I not pay attention to the package? I appreciate that she makes a wide range of sizes but let's be honest. The only bitches I ever see on the packs of these things are skinny hoes with (maybe) a little stomach pooch or a couple of unfortunate ass ripples. This shit is simply not made for serious rolls and creator chick should just come out and say it instead of giving us hope by making big sizes.

There. Me? Utterly finished with ass-wipe "shapewear".

Currently...

I think this is the one we call Chester (we've got about 7 orange cats running around here).

I'm pretty sure my main purpose in life is to feed my neighborhood strays. And you know what? I feel so unappreciated in general (mostly by people who could give me a job) that seeing them run out of their hiding places to greet me really makes my day most times. Especially when I don't even have food for them.

Yeah. Especially then.

Opportunities: All Dried Up

I've had a long and stressful two weeks since HUBS' birthday. Let's start with the first issue, shall we?

By Friday the 13th I was dangerously close to my unemployment running out and not knowing yet if I was getting another extension. (The geniuses at the Missouri unemployment office refuse to tell you if you get an extension until your current balance runs out. So, if you, like I did, have $64 left in your account, you won't be able to find out if you get more help until that pitiful-non-bill-paying money has been given to you, leaving no time to scramble for anything that pays. Fuckers.)

I decided to use my ace-in-the-hole and called the temp agency I signed up with in November. Here's how that went:

citygirl: I signed with you a couple months ago and wanted to start working.

agency chick: Ok. What kind of salary were you looking for?

citygirl: Fifteen dollars an hour.

agency chick: Oh, well, we don't have anything at that rate right now.

citygirl: Alright. What do you have now?

agency chick: We've got customer service jobs for $8 an hour.

citygirl: Oh...Uh...Well...Wow...That's less than I get from unemployment...And I can barely pay my bills now...(has stroke, panic attack and wets herself simultaneously)

I think I managed to finish with something about calling them back if I change my mind and hanging up quickly. What the fuck, y'all? I started shaking and began to cry hysterically. What the hell do I do now?

I called HUBS at work, still crying. He tried to calm me down, like always, but it didn't work. All I could think was, I had a job and left it, what the shit did I do to myself?

The following Monday I applied for a bunch of jobs through Office Team. They called me in for their testapalooza which lasted for 2 or 3 hours just like at the other temp agency. I lowered my asking price to $10 an hour, the equivalent of my unemployment. Again, I did good on everything. I called this Monday to get work. They said they'd call when they had something for me.

It's Friday at 3:47 pm. Guess who hasn't gotten a call fucking yet?

Luckily, I did get a 13 week unemployment extension.

Every time I have hope it just blows away in the winter wind.

Telling It Like It Is (He's 38)

Squee!

Today is HUBS' birthday (he's 38), and to celebrate this occasion on my blog I decided to relay some stories as written by HUBS in an email he sent yesterday (he's 38). So, here goes...

Hi, folks.

As a school computer technician, I get to overhear some pretty hilarious stuff while working. Such as (quoted from memory) the following.

Years ago, at a Jefferson City elementary school...

Third-grader: "Ms. Gutierrez?"

Ms. Gutierrez, warily: "Yes, Billy?"

Third-grader: "You know why Santa's nose is red?"

Ms. Gutierrez, still wary: "Why, Billy?"

Third-grader, matter-of-factly: "Capillaries."
......................................................

Today, at a St. Louis County high school...

White student: "I want to understand this whole 'rap' thing."

Black student: "That would take weeks."
......................................................

Later today, at the same school, with the same students...

White student: "Rap doesn't seem to have much of a message."

Black student: "[Something about Grandmaster Flash, and then...] The old-school rappers had messages."

White student: "Yeah, but now, it's just about their own lives. 'My girl cheated on me,' 'my life is tough,' stuff like that."

[Pause]

White student: "So it's sorta like country now, really."

[Longer pause]

Black student: "Don't you ever say that again."
.......................................................

Recently, at the same St. Louis County high school...

Student 1: "Hey, do you guys remember that boy that swam in the football field when it flooded last year?"

Student 2: "Yeah, I bet he got salmonella."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HUBS (he's 38)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Because We Do Things Differently In The '09 Beeyotch!!

Dear Jesus, we just want to get out of here alive...

Holy crap, I am so proud of us! We finally, after weeks of talking and planning have done something new! This is, in great part, thanks to HUBS' sister Tiny Sarcasm, or TS for short.

See TS is an avid belly dancer and she invited me to a workshop weekend she was coming to St. Louis for. I begged off the workshop since it was about $60, but said ok to the performance last Saturday night. I did this with much trepidation, though. Tickets were a whole THIRTEEN DOLLARS each. Who did these people think they were? I felt like I should really say yes, though, because this was the second time she'd asked me to do belly stuff with her, and I said no the first time.

So, on Saturday night, HUBS and I put on cool clothes and headed out to the dance studio where the performance was held. As usual with me and new things, I was not in the mood. The only thing that kept me from drifting back into my cozy, lazy Saturday pj-wearing ways was knowing that TS was expecting us.

This was not an easy task by any means. After stopping at the atm for ticket cash, we headed to a part of town neither of us knows well. We got to the street where the studio was supposed to be and it looked totally deserted. It was filled with factories on one end and apartments on the other, nothing even remotely dance-studio-y.

We drove up and down about four times and were ready to give up when we finally noticed the bright green building waaaaaaay off the street and sandwiched between two factories. There was a parking dude who directed us to a huge, completely dark, gravel and mud lot. We parked, HUBS got out and told me to watch for the mud puddles.

citygirl: Goddammit! This is what I get for trying to up my style game by not wearing clunky tennis shoes and jeans. Look what I'm wearing!

HUBS: (seeing my tan chinos and zebra striped ballet flats) Naw! Hell, naw! I'm not gonna have you ruin your shoes! This is bullshit! Let's go!

We were actually leaving when we noticed a spot on the lit and paved lot right in front of the building. We talked to parking man and he let us take the spot. Look at us! All determined to do stuff once we leave the house!!

Then came the experience of being inside the place. Um...it was really scary. It's exactly the type of place you'd go to if you want to be killed by Jason Voorhees. And the first really creepy thing we passed on the way to get our tickets? A vendor selling fetish gear: whips, chains, restraints, ball and gag crap, lots of pleather/leather/whateverthefuckthatshitismadeof. I was trying to remain calm, and did, but inside I was all fucked up.


Witch! Wiiiiiiitch!!

We got our tickets from the nice man with all the piercings and tattoos and a shiny black pompadour and headed for the basement, where the performance was. Holy fuck shits, you guys. The stairs were unbelievable. If you showed me a picture of those stairs and told me they led straight to the 9th circle of Hell I'd be like, "Well, yeah. Obviously." Later, HUBS told me that after he saw the stairs he thought his sister had set us up to be the ritual sacrifices of a cult. And that's only a small exaggeration.

As you can probably imagine the basement was no better. The pipes in the ceiling were leaky, the floor was filthy and wet, and they hadn't bothered to put enough seating around so HUBS and I (in our nice clothes) were relegated to the floor. A major feature of the room was an old conveyor belt complete with rusty nails! Joy! Joy aplenty!!

After a few performances we spotted TS and she us. We sat in front of her full table, and I hit my head on it as I sat down. It took me FOREVER to get comfortable. I thought for sure that I'd be covered in rats and roaches as soon as I sat down. The only thing keeping them away must have been...I don't know...bigger rats?

Let me just say, the people were just as terrifying as the setting. This was no standard bellydance show. Oh no. This was a Goth Tribal Fusion Bellydance show. There were lots of scarily made up faces, dog collars and just a sea of meshy, black costumes everywhere. Also, many of the performers were scary. One chick looked like an old witch. If you told me she was born in the year 10 and survived on the tears of children I'd say, "Well, yeah. What else could keep that woman alive."

We managed to stay for the whole show. I even won a door prize of a very spiky silver bracelet made in Pakistan. I'm not sure why, but it reminds me a lot of the puzzle box from Hellraiser. I'm not convinced I'll wear it.

Afterwards, in need of nourishment and light, we had breakfast at midnight at South City Diner, which is nearby. Thank God for blueberry pancakes.

Live, Dammit! LIVE!!!

Believe it or not, this isn't the most cats we've had on our property at one time.

I was raised to fear all animals except the most docile of pet fish. My mom was chased home by a snarling dog after school one day as a little girl, so to her, all animals were evil.

This tenet of my formative years held much sway over me until I met HUBS The Cat Loving Man. See, HUBS had always had a cat around the house growing up, sometimes more than one even. He loved fluffy kitties. And that's no euphemism, my friends.

After moving to the St. Louis area and living feline free for a couple of years he was starting to obsess over cats. The strays near my apartment got names from him (Hi Moses!), appreciative calls and plaintive sighs when they'd run off before he could get close enough to pet them.

I was tired of the insanity. I took him to the Humane Society so he could see some cats up close. He ended up adopting one, Tux. And I ended up seeing that not all animals need killing.

Forward to fall 2008. I'm jobless and at home all day most days. My depression, even with Tux to keep me company during the day, is deepening. But, there are bright spots.

Namely? When I spy one of our neighborhood's many stray cats out of a window. I enjoy watching them; the whole hunting, lolling, stalking, napping, trotting lot of them. They somehow make long days with no hope of finding steady work more bearable.

I decided to start feeding them a couple times a week. You know, just since it's kinda cold and they might have a hard time finding food. Really, though? Also because I wanted them to stop spending so much time across the street in front of our neighbor's garage and come a bit closer so I could see them better already.

It didn't take long to become completely invested in their lives. I run outside when I see them lolling in the street to keep them safe. I've started putting food out every day and on occasion twice a day (I feel bad when someone comes by later who missed out). I know who's dating whom and when I think of moving I know I'd miss them and wonder who'd feed them. But, most notably...I name them. Xut (that's pronounced Zoot) and Bandit were HUBS' idea, but Flo, Frankie, Sebastian and Chester were totally my doing.

And HUBS has only encouraged my obsession. Twice he's called me on his way to work to let me know the cats were gathering, Xut was shivering and I should probably put out food. Of course, I do. How could I not?

I want those strays and their as yet un-named cohorts to live like no strays have lived before. And I'm only a little ashamed by it now.

Monday, February 2, 2009

To Do:

1) Call back sex therapist
2) Find out how much our insurance will pay of the visit
3) Upload the rest of my January pics and edit them
4) Finish scanning that old b&w film I found
5) Help HUBS fix the wobbly toilet
6) Watch The Big Bang Theory
7) Eat White Castle's for dinner
8) Call Chase about big bill/interest rate
9) Clean out basket on my desk
10) Upload more honeymoon pic to flickr
11) Catch up on my blog reading
12) Put papers in fire box

Does it matter that I made this list after I'd already finished all this stuff? No, I don't think it does. It was quite a productive day, after all.