happy anniversary – remember, you chose this path with me

A few weeks back I was reading an older post from The Bloggess.  Thinking it would be of interest to Peter and being the super awesome kind person I am, I thought I would share it with him via text.  As always, that’s where it went wrong.  Nobody ever seems to appreciate my generous spirit.  This sums Peter and I up nicely though, on this, the day we celebrate 20 years together.

Me: a post for you – the bloggess

Me: Thought you would totally not appreciate this but appreciate it but not really.

Me: English is more better fun in my head.  Want in?

Peter: ?

Me: Are you questioning the link or my english or the fact that clearly you won’t actually fit inside my head so unless we find a way to shrink you like Rick Moranis did with his kids or like in Archer or Innerspace or holy crap, there is a whole lot of shrinking going on and this can’t possibly not be happening in real life if it so prominent in pop culture cause I’m pretty sure that’s how things work and if shrinking is really going on we should probably tell Jules so she can finally live in Travis’s blood, except that I forget she’s not real sometimes and that’s a TV show and that Courteney Cox is already so tiny I could fit her in my pocket and carry her around like other women do with small dogs and purses, but if she could fit in my pocket than she totally might be able to fit in my head, except how would she get in as all the holes in my head are smaller than the actual capacity of my head.  Plus, my brain is in there.  That’s gotta be taking up a little room at least, but I’m totally losing focus here as I was never trying to get Courteney into my brain in the first place and we were talking about you, and now I sorta feel sorry for bringing it up as this probably isn’t going to happen and now you are going to feel sad about all the awesomeness you are going missing out on by not getting into my mind and I’ve completely forgot what this was about.  I’m sorry, what were you questioning?

Peter: I was questioning who this was given the lack of contact info, but I think I can conclude it’s the woman I love or a shockingly good impersonation of her

Me: Huh.  Questioning who and not your level of love for me.  Well, that’s a first.

Me: Wait.  Maybe you aren’t who I think you are.  Quick!  Share anything romantic I have ever said to you.

Peter: …

Peter: “Seriously?”.  That was kinda romantic

Peter: Almost

Peter: I got nothing else

Me: You are forgetting the time I told you I brought out the trash and it made me think of you.  I don’t think you are prioritizing romantic right, but I will take “seriously?” as my response to your proposal as an acceptable answer.

Peter: Love you

Me: Okay.  There is clearly no need for that level of PDA and by PDA I mean public display of affection, not personal digital assistant or patent ductus arteriosus.

And by public, I mean that I am totally going to put this on my blog cause people should know what I have to deal with and give me all kinds of sympathy.

And by public, I mean the one of two people who read my blog, one of which is you, but as I’m introverted and try to keep my contact with the outside world of people limited, that still seems like a fairly high number and so there’s no need to get all gross and mushy as I fear this will only lead to things like not sitting at opposite ends of the couch with a cat buffer in the middle.  We’re only coming up on twenty years together and I’m just not there yet.  Seriously.  Stop with the pressure already.

Peter: <unsubscribe>

……

Happy 20th anniversary Peter.  Brace yourself…

I love you.

And thank you for not unsubscribing, though I should probably confirm you still follow this.  I might be thanking you for nothing.

I need to go wash my mouth out with soap now.

ps: peter claims I was ‘accidently’ deleted from his contacts as he had phone issues. This happens a lot. I don’t think he knows how phones work.

pps: I’d like to point out that for all the grammer mistakes that where highlighted as I wrote this, not once did it tell me I had a run on sentence.

 

 

 

i’m already ruing this post

There are days when you want to celebrate the teeniest of tiniest accomplishments and the best-est (most treacherous) of friends will support you with that, inspire you, and even help inadvertently create public awareness of a lost art.

Me: I did it!  I showered!  Aren’t you proud of me?
Now if only I can find pants, I can go get some onions to make my soup.
Onward ho!

Me: Pants, oh pants.  Wherefore art thou pants?

A: I have them!!  Tee hee hee (evil laugh)

Me: How rude.  THIEF!!!!

A: Mmmmuuuuuuhhhhhaaaaaa

Me: Oh how you will rue the day!!

Me: (please do.  please rue something.  there just isn’t enough ruing anymore)

A: Hmmm… what shall I rue?

Me: The day (this really couldn’t be any clearer)
The day I take revenge on you and your pant stealing ways

A: Oh, the day. The day. Ok fine. I rue the day!!!

A: I steal your pants and I rue the day!

Me: Evil!

A: (that better?)

Me: I’m on my way to the store in spite of your evil efforts.  Apparently I own more than one pair of pants.  And yes, I feel much better.  Together we shall bring back ruing!!!

A: On my way to library.  Must find “How to Rue for Dummies”

Me: If it isn’t there, I think we may have just stumbled upon a wonderful need and writing opportunity!

A: Yes, yes, yes.  It may explain why ruing is in such short supply today.

Me: It’s just so sad really

And now it’s up to you.  Only you can prevent forest fires bring back the art of rue. (Clearly advertising has no impact on me – though I think I may have just proven the effectiveness of public service announcements and now I feel confident with total RUE integration.  It’s coming back people.)

 

married or not, we probably shouldn’t share a joint account

Alternate title ‘why you shouldn’t text me on tattoo day’

Peter: Flipped money into joint account. Will add more when bills are paid tomorrow

Me: So if there’s time left, I can totally get another tattoo. Sweet!

Peter: Um, no

Me: No Peter.  I think you’re wrong.  It is sweet.

Me: I’m now ignoring texts for the rest of the day as I’m quite busy and I suspect they won’t be to my benefit

Me: Unless it’s about what liqueur to buy.  I will acknowledge texts for that.

Me: But only that

Me: I’m using ‘selective vision’ for the rest of the day

One of us clearly needs to get their priorities in order.

for grandpa

not another cat post? sadly, yes

There will be more, I have no doubt, but there was suppose to be a break.  This wasn’t suppose to follow the last two in a row.

But this has to come out.

Because I haven’t been able to write, not a post, not a tweet, not anything bright and fluffy and fun.  The words and and ridiculous thoughts are in my brain, but they are stuck there; my unwilling fingers won’t make the connection to type them.

I think it’s because I haven’t fully been able to acknowledge the loss of my Willow, my baby girl.

She was absolutely one of my best friends and two weeks ago today, she left us and the hole she left is enormous.

I don’t want to focus on the sadness.  I simply want need to take a moment and remember the furball of awesomeness that she was.

From when she was a kitten and used to lie on my pillow and shut my eyes for me, not ever letting glasses get in her way to her ‘I have no limbs’ poses.  Her love of boxes, her ability to make and get into her own costumes, for all the wonderful moments I will never forget.

                            storming the castle

             PIZZA!!!!!!! (which means BOX!!!!!!)

         willow in fancy dress. she designed it herself

 

For all the time we had with her and all she gave us in that time, I am eternally grateful.

 

it’s not like i’m gifting you a human hair pillow (i’m saving that for your birthday)

I can’t quite seem to put my finger on why holiday invites have stopped coming my way, why I am suddenly getting so many cancellations from friends or why even my family seems to be squirming about our upcoming festivities.

Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned some of the crafty creative gifts I plan on giving out this year. I bet my friends are simply concerned that they won’t be able to come up with anything even remotely as awesome and so they are cancelling out of embarrassment.

 

I’m not so sure ‘with’ is the correct word. Pretty sure it should read “Cute Handicrafts to Make FROM your cat – but just the hair, not like its internal organs or anything. Please don’t dismember your cats”.

 

I definitely don’t want friends and family to feel down on themselves for not finding this wonderful inspiring book first.  They really shouldn’t feel bad or compare themselves, and they should know that such amazing creativity often comes from having a limited budget and so you make the best of what you have and what I have is cats.

If they really want to compete, they can always give away all their money (like maybe to me so I can buy presents instead) and then they will start to come up with ingenious gift giving ideas and they can show me up. Everyone wins.

Though now that I think about it, I bet they are simply upset with me for spoiling the surprise.  I’ve accidentally ruined the wonder that comes with gifts and I suspect if I apologize all the invites will start pouring in again and my family will stop suggesting I spend this year entirely with my in-laws.

And since I have already proven how magnificent I am at apologizing, I believe I’ll have this mishap cleared up in no time.

holiday decorating the way martha never intended

They’re my family and they have to love me, though why they still talk to me is a bit of a mystery.

It started innocently enough with a text to my siblings late last month suggesting that a desk weasel would make a good prezzie for me as I am re-doing my work space and it would be perfect (so long as no one mentions it to Peter).  I can’t say I was surprised when my sister more or less ignored me and moved the conversation in another direction, but what I hadn’t expected was my brother-in-law’s participation. He clearly hasn’t been in the family long enough yet to learn not to engage with me.  I suspect that will soon change.

To be fair, I think my sister may have been baiting him for her own amusement.  She included him in the the group text, then quickly left the conversation after opening with this:

Robin: My house threw up Christmas

Me: Xander (one of my cats) threw up all over my house.  It’s kinda the same right?

Phil: Not really as the house threw up a tree with lights and ornaments, etc. Stockings hung…

Me: Xander made pretty colours too – I mean we do feed him pumpkin. I think it’s unfair to assume he didn’t put the same effort into creating something fantastic and beautiful. You’re clearly being Christmas decorating exclusionary and I think you should apologize. Stop being a cat hater. Xander loves you. Where’s the love Phil, where’s the love?

…short time later

Me: Phil, I have just gotten in trouble from Peter for trying to shame you over Xander’s decorative vomiting efforts. As an apology, I am packing up all the sparkly Xander vomit (I added glitter) and sending it to you. You will now have the most amazing Christmas vomit house ever as I am no longer deserving of such things. I hope you can forgive me.

Me: I haven’t run this apology past Peter yet, but I can’t imagine any fault to be found by him as I am giving up so much in my efforts to right my wrong. As he left the room while I was writing this, I can only assume he knew I would do a good job.

Phil: Shall I send that apology and the link to the weasel you want for Christmas to Peter. Think he’ll find it amusing?

Me: Touché

Me: Except I already showed Peter the weasel and told him I asked for it from everybody I know in spite of the warning under the video that says weasels are not good pets and this one is just a rescue – don’t get a weasel. I want a weasel.

Me: As for the apology, I think Peter will not be the least surprised. He knows how super duper generous and giving I am and would expect nothing less.

Phil: Oh, I know… locking up the Crown Royal Apple now. Is there any environmental coal option for your stocking instead.

Me: The only bigger, better apology I can come up with is sending you Xander himself. Then you get ALL the vomit. A Christmas miracle and it’s only November.

Phil: Ok, I’m going to drink all the Crown Apple now.

Me: I’ve never had Crown Apple. It seems kinda rude to drink it all and not even let me try some. I think you may owe me an apology now for your lack of consideration of my thirst. I’ll accept a bottle of crown apple as your sorry. Hey, maybe the apple and the vomit will cross paths on the way to their new homes.

Phil: Maybe. I don’t need the vomit though.

Me: Fine. Since you don’t seem interested in my awesome apology, I will not send you sparkly cat vomit, but in doing so, you acknowledge that not sending you vomit is my apology and I am now forgiven.

Me: You also acknowledge that anything lacking in your Christmas decor is not a reflection of the amazing job I am sure Robin has done, but is because you chose not to complete your holiday cheer with vomit (something I have yet to experience).

…1/2 hour later

Me: Hey Phil, Willow just threw up.

Me: Was it just Xander’s vomit you objected to, cause I have another option for you now if you are interested

…

Remarkably, Phil hasn’t blocked or deleted me from his contacts (a fact which I am grateful for), but I think it’s clear that one of us truly gets the generous spirit of the season more than the other.

At the very least, one of us understands how not to decorate for the holidays properly.

 

 

somehow, our conversations always seem to go horribly awry

Peter– Target just announced bankruptcy in Canada. Time to load up on kitty litter

Me– The life we lead is so WILD!

Peter– Fine. I’ll grab some vodka on my way home. Tonight we’ll get drunk and find a pimp to kill

Me– Do we get to keep the whores!?!

Peter– Only if you promise to actually take care of them yourself. I’m not going to be the one feeding them or cleaning up after them

Me– We’re going to need a much bigger litter box!

hello world; these are my breasts. (before you get too excited -or frightened- there are no photos attached)

I have a question.

I have been spending a bit of time listening to talks of breast health/cancer/prevention/etc, that all focus on a more natural perspective – prevention and care, not simply the more invasive treat the symptoms kind of approach.

Now, no matter what your personal views on the subject may be, I am wondering, is it alright to stand at your front window, lift your shirt (while bra-less) and shout as loud as you possibly can “I love my breasts!”?

I’m hoping my neighbours think so.  Or that the snow is falling so thick today that sound and sight are not capable of penetrating through it.

Either way, what’s done is done.

ps – for anyone interested, the talks I have been listening to are from Rethink Pink and are well worth the time http://www.wishsummit.com/pinkribbon 

pit of despair – day three

Well, I’m out of bed.  Only cause my phone was going off repeatedly and it was really far away.  Future note to self: if I am going to make attempts to respond to the outside world via my chirping phone while depressing (yes, I am using the word ‘depressing’ as a verb – it really should be one, sometimes it’s the only way to describe it), anyhow, point is, remember to turn phone off or bring it to bed with me.

I’ve even managed to make a cup of coffee so I have some degree of functioning.  I guess that’s something.

…

I’ve gone and got broken again.

I’m not sure how many times one can get put back together.  After a while, don’t the pieces get too small and damaged; beyond repair.

I am on my own today.  It’s monday and everyone is back to their weekday life.

It’s amazing how old ways of dealing with pain surface.  Negative coping mechanisms you think you have overcome work their way into your mind.  Just one more thing to deal with and have to fight.

I remember how cutting into my skin used to distract.  How one pain could be traded for another.  How the trade was a relief; how it felt like control.  I don’t like how these recollections have surfaced as ultimately the pay off wasn’t good for me; wasn’t healthy; provided only a moment of relief; did nothing to help me get better long term.  So I remind myself I am here now instead.  By here I mean on this page.  I write my pain.  I am naked and exposed to the world, but it is the safer alternative.

I can’t have people on watch over me 24/7 (though all my feline fur ball friends seem to be strangely alert and keep checking on me) so I have to deal with the alone.  I’m completely sucky company right now anyhow.  I don’t want to talk.  I mostly stare into space, lost in my thoughts.  I cry occasionally and, just to mix it up, once in a while I hyperventilate.  Who wouldn’t want to spend time with that?  I don’t even really want company.  It just seems somehow easier as I don’t have to fear my own thoughts quite as much.

That’s all the words I have right now.  There are so many more, but they exhaust me.

I’m going to attempt to contemplate if being in the pit of despair is a better option than the bog of eternal stench.  Maybe it will distract me.  If it provides even a few moments of respite, I’ll take it.  I will take every teeny tiny little break from my thoughts that I can latch onto.

I really, most genuinely, hope that you are having a better day.  That you are having not only a better day, but a wonderful one.

no title; it really doesn’t matter

Months since I have written and this, I already know, will be nothing but whiny gibberish, but I don’t care.

I feel like my world is spiralling.  Like all I have been working so hard for is not available to me.  It’s small and stupid and I am too embarrassed to even attempt to explain it as it’s that unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but that hasn’t stopped my (over?) reaction.

I miss the floor.  Sitting is energy I don’t have.  Tears have drained me, yet continue in regular intervals.

It’s all fallen apart.

I am not good enough.

I am not wanted.

I feel this is only partially deserved.

Nonetheless, my aspirations and all I wanted to learn, all the challenges I wanted to face, all I hoped for (but somehow knew I wasn’t getting) – all gone.  No way to change it.  And I don’t know how to deal.

I don’t want to talk about it, but I can’t stop thinking about it.  It’s a never-ending downward descent.

I am so lost and it hurts.

And I can’t escape it, can’t get away from it to deal; not without giving up what I love and that doesn’t feel like an option either.  Outside my family and kit kats, it’s all I have.  It all intertwines and cutting a small part damages everything.

I need help, but there is no help that can be given.