Two things

Thing number 1:

My roommate, Keem, has a problem. It’s a disturbing problem and one I have talked to her about in great detail. She tells me she’s going to stop but she doesn’t. So, at all hours of the day, there are strange people in my home and I have to deal with it. I’m so tired of it. The constant drama, the yelling, the drag queens…

Yeah. Keem’s addicted to reality TV. The newest show she started watching? RuPaul’s Drag Queen Race (or something like that). We watched an hour of it until she got bored (because, really, how many times can you listen to a conversation that consists of “Oh, no, she didn’t” and “Watch it, Miss Thing”?). And then we watched 4 episodes of the Cake Boss. The Cake Boss, in case you didn’t know, is an Italian man in New Jersey who took over the family business when his father died. It’s a bakery and all of his family works there, including his sisters and their husbands. There’s a lot of screeching because the sisters like to think they know better than him and will contradict his orders. Like the one sister decided the bakery should be painted pink and Buddy almost had a heart attack. This is three hours of my life that I will never get back! But the cakes are pretty.

I don’t know what to do about this addiction. I can handle Survivor and America’s Next Top Model. I love Project Runway and Top Chef. I will tolerate the Cake Boss and his annoying family. But what’s next? A television show about people kidnapped by aliens? They could call it Project Roswell.

Thing number 2:

You are all probably aware that I’m a bit of a Star Trek junkie. I love Captain Kirk (and think William Shatner is hot and, yes, a pretty decent singer). I want Data to be my very own android boyfriend (actually, I’m partial to Lore because, hello, he’s kind of evil and an android. We all know I love the bad boys). I boldly went to see the newest Star Trek movie 4 times in the theater and have watched it three times on DVD. I am looking forward to introducing Josh to the movie this weekend and hopefully combating his massive exposure to Star Wars (stupid brother-in-law and his “Star Wars rules, Star Trek drools” beliefs (although he probably never exactly phrased it that way)).

Anyway, Keem and I bought the DVD this week. We had the choice between the regular DVD or the Collector’s version at Target. Obviously we went for the Collector’s version. Cool thing about this, the DVD case is actually a replica of the Enterprise. How awesome is that? Pretty awesome.

Keem put it together and it was sitting on the side table the other day. I look over and find myself saying words I never thought would come out of my mouth.

DM: Kitten. Please stop eating the Enterprise.

Here she is. My baby. Scourge of the Universe and Eater of the Enterprise.

I posted this on Facebook and someone left the comment “But Captain, there’s a fang in the warp drive.” Best. Comment. Ever!

ARGH!

The Plague Continues – just in a new form

I have an ear infection.  It’s so ridiculous.  I’m 42 years old and this is my first ever ear infection.  I don’t like it.  Plus, it just seems so ludicrous.  It’s like wearing bifocals and having a huge acne breakout.

Granted, the horrible, gut-wrenching, “May I please jab a needle in my ear” pain is pretty much gone.  What’s driving me crazy right now is the feeling of liquid sloshing around in there and the fact that I can’t hear very well out of my left ear.  Hey, let’s think.  What do I do for a living again?  I listen to calls.  That’s awesome!

I’m squirting antibiotic drops in my ears four times a day (which might account for the liquid feeling).  It’s very exciting.  I would not wish this on my worst enemy.  Oh, wait.  Yes, I would.  Exactly how do you give someone an ear infection so I can work on inflicting a former friend of mine.

The bronchitis has pretty much cleared up.  That’s good.

The Further Adventures of Kalli, aka Demon Spawn

The other day, we ordered chicken wings from Pizza Hut (Mmm.  Garlic Parmesan.  Yummy).  I went to the door to pay.  Kalli takes this time to run out into the hallway.  The pizza delivery woman tries to stop her and I let her know this is something Kalli does every chance she gets.

Then I watch as Kalli runs up and down a 3 foot space, head held high, tail waving in the wind (okay, there’s not much wind in the apartment hallway but you know what I mean).  Is she trying to be a show kitten or something?  I can just see what is going through that teeny-tiny brain.  “Look at me!  Look at me!  Look!  Look!  Reward me with a treat of some sort because I am just so cute!  Loooooooooook!”

The next day, we decided to order pizza from Domino’s (yes, yes, I know.  Not the best choices but it was Tuesday and you buy one, get one free.  Cold pizza makes an excellent breakfast).  I go to the door to pay.  The pizza delivery man looks at Kalli.

PDM:  You.  I remember you.

The tone in his voice is as though Kalli is his mortal enemy.  My cat is someone’s nemesis.  This is so awesome and weird at the same time.

I think that’s pretty much it.  My life is not the most exciting lately.  Sorry.

My mother is in town

And I think it describes our relationship well when I tell you that I looked in the mirror this morning, saw my pink streaks had pretty much faded to a strawberry blonde and thought “Hmm.  I wonder if I have time to get my nose pieced before I see Mom tomorrow night.”

In other words, I love her but I also love annoying the heck out of her.

And now, for an interesting Mom story.  One that just happened last night.  Mom drove up from Arizona to be here for Kari’s birthday (I would be jealous of this but quite frankly, I don’t like celebrating my birthday in March all that much so I can understand why mom would rather come up to Minnesota in the summer) which was yesterday.  My baby sister is now 40 years old.  Wow.  And yes, she’ll always be my baby sister, even when we’re in our seventies.

Things you should know – Mom has a Papillion dog named Lilly and she rescued a pure bred Siamese without a name.  He would respond to her when she would call Lilly and she was thinking of naming him Billy or Willy (which, actually, is a pretty popular name on my mother’s side of the family and it smacks highly of “No.”  Don’t name pets after family members).  I suggested she name him Philadelphia Chicken and she could call him Philly for short.   But Josh saw a picture of the cat and decided his name was Bo.

Anyway, Kari called me today and says “Well, you know Mom, she’s always full of surprises.”

My first thought is “Oh, God, did she pick up another hitchhiker (done it before, some homeless guy – long story) and bring him to Minnesota with her?”

Fortunately, that is not the case. No, Mom brought Bo and Lilly and arrives at home when Kari and Josh are out for lunch. Bo is zipping all over the house, he is full of energy and is apparently even bigger than Sebastian length-wise.

Josh looks in Kari’s room and says “There’s an animal under your bed.”

Kari says “Oh, no, there’s not, honey, it’s okay (because apparently he’s afraid of monsters (smart child)).” Eric decides to go take a look. Then, out of the corner of her eye, Kari sees a cat. She assumes it is Bo but the cat is smaller than Bo. She doesn’t think much of it until Bo comes walking out of the dining room. Wait. What’s going on here? Did she see Bo’s reflection in the stainless steel garbage can?

No. Apparently Mom decided, since Bo is so pretty, maybe Josh would like to have a kitten. So she went and found a female Siamese cat and introduced her to Bo.  Nature took its course, female cat became pregnant and so it turns out that my mother drove from Arizona to Minnesota with a Papillion (Lilly), a large Siamese cat (Bo), a smaller Siamese cat (name unknown) AND two Siamese kittens that were born on Friday. FRIDAY! They are 6 days old.

This is insane. This is my mother.  And people wonder why I’m so eccentric?

In which our heroine tries to burn her apartment down

So.  How was your weekend?  Mine was…well, eventful comes to mind.

Not the entire weekend, just yesterday.  Keem decided it was my turn to make lunch and I said sure.  We had bought some Market Pantry pizza shells the week before because I had said I was in the mood to make a pizza.  Keem had already cooked the hamburger and I decided I was going to make a garlic butter sauce.

Note to self:  Really, when you’re making a garlic butter sauce for a pizza shell, you only need one stick of butter.  Maybe not even that.

I am sure you may be able to guess where this is going.  I took two sticks of butter.  I microwaved them.  I added minced garlic and garlic powder and some Pampered Chef dipping sauce seasoning (which is very yummy and has garlic in it, if I remember correctly (Yes, I like garlic.  How did you guess?)) and mushed it all together.  I used the pastry brush to brush the garlic butter sauce on the shell.  Hmm.  I still have a lot of garlic butter sauce.  What should I do? 

Oh, I know.  I’ll mix it in with the hamburger and then, after placing the Provolone cheese on the shell, I’ll dump the hamburger on top.  Cover hamburger with cheese and put in oven for 15 minutes.

At about 14.5 minutes, the smoke detector in our apartment started going crazy.  I went and fanned it with a hot pad, as I was taught by my mother when I was younger.  It calmed down, I opened up the oven and was greeted with a disaster.  Apparently the garlic butter sauce decided it wanted to go for a road trip and had dripped all over the stove.

No problem, right?  I can deal with this.  I know, how about I put the oven on self-clean?  Brilliant idea, right?

No.  It is not a brilliant idea.  Do you know what self-cleaning an oven does?  It locks the oven and turns the heat on to 350 degrees.  So the garlic butter sauce that is all over the bottom of the oven starts smoking.  A lot.  And then the smoke detector goes off again.

Only so much waving of the hot pad works after about 10 minutes.  There is an acrid smoke wafting through our apartment, my eyes are burning, Keem’s eyes are burning, the cats are freaking out and my arm hurts from waving it at the smoke alarm.  Keem suggests I go get the fan from her bedroom and lock the cats up in there.  I do so.

The fan works when you set it underneath the smoke detector.  Keem opens the window wide and the smoke starts billowing its way out.  After about 30 minutes, the apartment is fairly clear and we shut the window.  Eddy and Kalli come out of the bedroom, high-tailing it towards Keem (Eddy) and the treat buffet (Kalli).  They are fed and consoled accordingly.

A few minutes later, Keem and I see Kalli sitting underneath the table where the fan is, still directed towards the smoke detector.  Kalli is doing her patented meerkat impression and trying to figure out what the heck is going on.  There is a stool sitting next to the table and Kalli climbs on it.

Apparently she feels the need to protect us and starts using the Paw of Justice on the fan.  Thwack!  Thwack!  Thwackity, thwackity, thwack!  Take that, evil fan!  Keem and I are laughing hysterically.  Eddy is looking at Kalli like she is nuts.  I turn the fan off and Kalli decides to go off and start talking to her spider friends (there’s about three or four spiders that hang out on the windows outside of our apartment.  Kalli chatters at them.  It’s really cute).

The pizza, by the way, was pretty good.  However, I am banned from making pizza ever again.

How was your weekend?

In mourning and I have crossed a line

In Which I Mourn the Loss of a Great Cat

Wednesday night is girl’s night in the Keem-Dana household.  My sister Kari came over, bringing a tiny addition to our normal Wednesday activities, my nephew Josh.  Eric is in the Caribbean at his sister’s wedding so boy’s night was postponed.  I was a little worried over how Josh would react to watching two episodes of America’s Next Top Model but, other than a little grumbling, he started playing with Legos and worshipping Keem with every molecule of his body (she’s his girlfriend.  First she steals my cat and then she moves in on my nephew.  Can’t trust her with men at all.  Sheesh).

While we were watching ATNM, Kari broke the news.  My sister’s cat, Sebastian, has left the building.  He had been diagnosed with a malignant tumor on his jaw a few months back and Kari had been told he probably only had a few weeks left.  It was decided that as long as he was still comfortable and not in severe pain, they would make his last weeks enjoyable.  He was fed the finest soft foods and then he rallied.  He entered his 2nd childhood and became Mr. Playful and would frolic around quite like a kitten on crack. 

Unfortunately, on Monday, the tumor had become abcessed (or something.  Apparently there was pus involved.  I may have put my fingers in my ears and said “I can’t hear you!” at that time) and he was in severe pain.  The decision was made to let him go to the big kitty farm in the sky* so he could be at peace.

*Yes.  I do believe that beloved pets do go to Heaven and we get to spend eternity with them.  Also, when I want to annoy Keem (which is often), I tell her we should talk about the farm we’re going to have where we will raise cats.  This will be after we win the lottery, of course, and can rescue many, many cats and let them frolic around the farm.  There will possibly be puppies** as well.  Perhaps a cow for providing the kittens with milk.  Some attractive farm hands.  Okay, many attractive farm hands***.

**All cats and dogs are kittens and puppies to me.  Full grown German Shepherds are “Big puppies!”  I admit to usually being a 4 year old trapped in a 42 year old’s body.  Sometimes I’m 12.  But mainly 4. 

***Okay, sometimes I’m also a 42 year old with a great appreciation for the male form.

Good night, Sweet Sebastian.  Parting is such sweet sorrow.

This is a picture of Kari and Sebastian putting together the Batman Lego set I got for Josh for his birthday.  Josh and Kari are obsessed with Legos and I should seriously look into buying stock in the company.  Keem and my affectionate nickname for Sebastian was demon cat and I have decided that Kalli is Sebastian’s demon spawn since she has many of his annoying habits (meowing loudly in the middle of the night, trying to eat Eddy’s head).  Apparently she got one of his good ones because Wednesday, she was sprawled on the floor next to Josh, watching him play.  So this picture makes me happy in a bittersweet way.  The Lego torch has been passed on. 

Sebastian was a great cat and while I miss him, I am happy for knowing him and knowing that he’s not in pain anymore.

In which I cross the line separating me from somewhat sane cat owner to Crazy Cat Lady

Kalli and Eddy have very specific dining habits.  I should say Eddy does.  I’d term what Kalli wants to be more like specific demands. 

Once we wake up, we are expected to drop everything and race to the living room to provide the monster cat with dry treats.  Then we are allowed to shower and get ready for work.  Once I am done showering, Kalli is hovering around the bathroom, plaintively explaining that the meager treats I gave her were not enough to let a tiny, starving kitten survive and I should really feed her more. 

This continues until I’m dressed and then Kalli makes a beeline to the kitchen, wanting her wet food.   Mew, mew, incessant mew.  Let me climb onto the counter and eat from the can because “Oh my God, you people never feed me!”  Wet food is taken away and placed on the other counter which she rarely climbs on.  If we do not distract Eddy and Kalli with the wet food as we’re leaving, they run out into the hallway and there is chaos.  Utter, complete, extremely chaotic chaos.

I go to my computer, check bloglines, look at a few comics, hit Bacefook and play some Wafia Mars while I wait for Keem to be ready to leave for work.  I also tell Kalli repeatedly to “Shut it!”  This is all normal.  Part of the every day routine.  Sane cat owner.

Until it’s time to leave and Eddy has not come into the kitchen.  Kalli is having a hissy fit, wanting her food right NOW! but Eddy is MIA.  Sometimes he gets a little distracted by whatever deep kitty thoughts he is thinking and doesn’t hear us.  So I go into Keem’s bedroom and he’s lying on her bed, on his pink floofy blanket.  ”C’mon, baby, it’s time to eat.”  Nothing.  He stares at me blankly.  I tell Keem to call him, he will typically respond to her.  She does and there is still nothing.  He cannot be persuaded to move.

Finally, as Kalli’s cries reach crescendo pitch, I say “Maybe I should just bring him his breakfast.”  Keem agrees.

And this is where the line was crossed.  I served my cat breakfast in bed.  No one will ever take me seriously again.

Deflation – i.e. Not excited

So I was going to volunteer this last Saturday but:

1. I overslept
2. I woke up with the world’s worst backache and could barely walk, let alone bend over and pick up trash

Then, later on in the day, I had a horrible, horrible headache and decided to take a nap.  You know what doesn’t work when you’re taking a nap?  Having a small gray cat sit on your chest and yowl at you about how no one ever feeds her and she is completely and totally unloved.

I decided to treat myself to an exciting dinner Saturday night and ordered chicken wings from a local pizza place.  Sunday morning I found myself projectile vomiting said chicken wings onto my shower curtain and the floor.  While the Kalli Monster watched avidly.  Eddy, just in case you’re wondering, behaved like a perfect gentlecat the entire weekend.  There was some dejected moaning that Keem was not home but he got over it and came out to spend quality time with me.

Food poisoning?  I think so. 

Keem returned Sunday night and we watched the last two episodes of Lost and the newest episode of Dollhouse.  So much for my theory that Adelle and Dominic might have something going on.  That was blown right out of the water.

Today, of course, I feel absolutely fine.  Except for the gigantic throbbing zit on my forehead that is shouting (in neon) “LOOK!  LOOK at me!”  And I hate my hair.  Other than that, life is good.

How was your weekend?  Better than mine, I hope.

Beware of cat

So this last weekend I spent being sick and cleaning.  Yes, I am still sick.  My sister is convinced I have Bronchitis and she is probably right but I refuse to take an entire day off of work to just go and listen to my doctor say “you have Bronchitis.  Drink lots of fluids.”  I already know this.  And Keem refuses to go to the Minute Clinic because, as she says, it’s more like the 60 Minutes Clinic.  Keem is not a very patient person, especially when she is waiting for me.  I am muddling through, occasionally pausing to hack up a lung.  Other than that, though, I feel fine.

On the cleaning front, once a year our apartment complex has an annual fire inspection.  Representatives from the fire department tromp through the different apartments to discover which ones of us have stacks of old newspapers from 40 years ago cluttering up our homes.  They do not take kindly to seeing rooms where you have a path from the door to your bed.  And the only way you can get to the computer is if you climb over the bed.  That, apparently, is a fire hazard.  So I cleaned.  And cleaned some more.  And threw a lot of crap away.  And brought some books to the laundry room.  And did 400 loads of laundry (okay, 4, but it still seems like a lot).  And actually found the floor to my bedroom.  Believe me when I tell you this is a small miracle.  I am not the world’s tidiest person.

Keem and I come home yesterday, wanting to see if we passed the inspection with flying colors.  We find a note from the maintenance guy (not sure which one, I didn’t read the note).  It goes something like this:

Hey.  Your thermostat in the living room and master bedroom are frozen and not adjusting.  It’s good that we figured this out since you wouldn’t get any AC this summer if it wasn’t fixed.  I’ve done a work order to have this taken care of and have put on the work order to watch out for the cats.

You know what this means.  Uh-oh.  I must be gay!*

*Sorry, random “In and Out” reference to Howard’s brother, Walter.  Who, by the way, is in an Applebee’s commercial and I am always very excited to see it and say “Look!  It’s Walter!”  Fortunately both Beth and Keem have recognized him as well and do not think I am insane.  Much.

Anyway, what this means is Kalli loves to escape whenever she gets the chance and run into the hallway.  Eddy will at least only escape when it’s Keem or I.  But Kalli is constantly waiting for her opportunity to make a run for it.  Or, you know, sit on a random delivery man’s shoe and sniff his pants as though he was the greatest smelling thing ever (turns out he has cats as well).

I can imagine what happened yesterday.  Kalli heard the key turning and raced to the door, probably encouraging Eddy to follow her.  The door opens and a small streak of grey lightning races out into the hallway.  The larger, not as fast, orange pumpkin boy follows her.  The maintenance guys probably sit there and wonder “What happened?”  The idea of them having to herd kitties makes me laugh.  It’s always an experience.

Kalli got out again last night, which is why I didn’t see the note right away.  Our neighbor saw her running around the hallway, shouting “Catch me!  Hahaha!  I’m faster than you!  Oh, wait, I’ll walk reallllllllllly sllllllooooooow in front of you!  But no!  I’m too fast!” in kitty language (Mew.  MEEEEEEEEW.  Mew.  Mewmewmewmew).  The last time he had seen her, she was in the carrier, doing her patented barrell rolls in protest of going to the vet.

Kindly Old Neighbor:  How is she doing after her ordeal?
DM:  She’s good.  She started leaping around two days after it.  You know, like she hadn’t just had major surgery.

This is directed to Kalli who, like usual, ignores me to tell the Kindly Old Neighbor that we never feed her and she is horribly neglected and what a horrible life she leads.

KON:  Well, she seems to be back to her usual self.

That’s my girl.   Loud, obnoxious, an escape artist and known for her antics (the first time the Kindly Old Neighbor met Kalli was when she decided to go running around his apartment when they left the door open).  Sigh.  I’m going to have to get a sign made that says “Beware of Cat.  She may not bite you (unless you move your feet in the middle of the night) but she will meow you to death.”

How I spent my birthday

First of all, thank you for your birthday wishes and your reminders that it is really important that I take my pills.  I appreciate that.

Second, that was the shortest depression I have ever had (the longest lasted 6 months) and it snapped yesterday.   I do not know the exact time but I do know that I was in a much better mood.

Yesterday I played on the computer, watched TV (trying to get caught up on about 11 back episodes of Heroes.  I have a vague idea of what is going on, thanks to Beth), took a nap and cuddled with kitties.  It was awesome.  For the most part.  There were two things that weren’t 100% spectacular.

Number 1 – When Keem came home, I was able to tell her how Kalli is proving herself to be a little sister to Eddy.  Gosh, did it bring back memories of growing up with Kari.  Kari’s nickname was Brat.  It suited her very well.  In fact, if you would have told me 27 years ago that Kari would become one of my best friends, I would have laughed in your face. 

Kalli did the following yesterday:

• Are you in the cat bed, Eddy?  I want to be in the cat bed.  Let me sit on top of your head until you move. 
• Are you on the Papasan chair, Eddy?  It’s mine!  MINE!  Let me chew on your ears until you move.
• Oh!  Hey, Eddy got treats.  I have treats as well but I want his treats.  I am just going to crawl underneath him and push him out of the way.
• Are you lying there comfortably on the floor, not bothering anyone?  Well, I want that spot of the floor.  Get out!

And so on.  It is somewhat aggravating.  Eddy is incredibly patient, however.  I want to tell him that in a year or so, he and Kalli will be best friends but I know he’d give me the same look that I gave my mom.  The look that says “Seriously?  Woman, are you on crack?”*

*Although, in the 80′s we didn’t know about crack.  Instead I think I gave her the look that said “Dude, what are you smoking?”

Number 2 – after I woke up from my nap (because the stupid apartment right above us is being remodeled.  Apparently I can sleep through a fire alarm but not jackhammers), I noticed something else that was aggravating.  I had a stuffy nose and a sore throat.  This is wrong.  Apparently, on my birthday, God decided I needed the plague.  This did make me decide to unload and load the dishwasher and also vaccum.  For whatever reason, when I get sick, I decide the germs are out to get me and I must destroy them all.

Later that night, Kari came over for girl’s night (every Wednesday) and we watched Chopped on The Food Network (Like Iron Chef but with more drama) and then, to our surprise and excitement, America’s Next Top Model started last week.  We were very happy because honestly, there is nothing funnier than skinny women being forced to live in a house together.  The drama is unbelievable.  And watching one of the prettiest girls ever sobbing because her hair got cut short and she only feels pretty if she covers it up?  Oh, my God, you just want to smack her.  There is one girl we are rooting for, I can’t remember her name but she is a burn victim and wants to be a role model for other burn victims to show them that you can be beautiful even if you are scarred.  I think it is going to be tough for her because not everyone will see things that way, especially in the fashion industry.  But my God, is she beautiful.  She stood there in her bathing suit, proud of herself and it made me happy to see someone take on the fashion industry.  It makes up for the crap about some designer saying Heidi Klum is fat.  Gosh, I wish I was fat like Heidi Klum.

Kari stopped at Culver’s and picked up a Turtle Cake.  It was fantastic.  Eric and Josh called and sang Happy Birthday to me.  My Mom called later that night and also sang Happy Birthday to me. 

So, even though I had to have a nervous breakdown to get the time off (we have a PTO freeze right now), it was worth it.  Now if I could just get rid of this damn plague.

Welcome to the rest of my life

In one week, I will be 42 (March 11th, in case you are wondering). I realized this today when looking at the calendar to figure out what day it was (I have 3 calendars scattered around my cubicle and I still can’t figure it out half the time. Yesterday I decided it was September 1st). I announced this to my co-workers without the panic that usually accompanies my realizing I’m going to be a year older.

For many years, a former friend of mine would say “Hey, Dana, it’s March 1st. You’re going to be (insert age here). What have you done with your life?” Then he would list off all of his accomplisments and compare them to mine. I, of course, was not as awesome and wonderful as he was since I didn’t have children or own a home or ever done anything worth mentioning.

It got to the point that March 1st would roll around and I would plunge into a dark depression. And then it became February 1st and then January 1st and you get the picture. Plus the depression would take forever to break.

A lot of things worked to help me get over this:

1. I started working at NABABNA and met Beth and Keem and their families.  It feels like I have one big extended family. 
2. My sister and I are close and I spend every Wednesday night with her.  My family has been a great support system.
3. I stopped hanging out with people who seemed to only care about themselves and what I could do for them.
4. I haven’t seen former friend in years.  I rarely think of him.  While I’ll always be grateful to him for convincing me to start working at NABABNA, it is nice to be away from someone who once told me my only purpose in life was to be someone people could make fun of since that would make them feel better about their lives.  Um, yeah, former friend?  Bite me.
5. My doctor, after a few tries, found an anti-depressant that helps.  While I know I’ll be taking Effexor for the rest of my life, I’m okay with that.  I have been around me when I forget my meds and believe me, I am not much fun.  I’m either plunged into the depths of despair and thinking about killing myself or very manic and doing really dumb things like gambling away my rent money.
6. I started blogging and met all sorts of awesome people IRL and through the internet.
7.  I read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Universe.

For years, if you ask me what the meaning of life is, I will respond with 42.  I can’t help it.  It’s just ingrained in me.  It’s the same thing that makes me growl at the thought of vampires that sparkle (I don’t get this, actually, I read maybe one or two chapters of Twilight and all it did is make me really miss Angel and Spike) or still be disgruntled over the fact that Data died in the last Star Trek: TNG movie (which I haven’t seen yet but I read the transcript).  Once I find something I love, it sticks with me.

So the idea that I’m going to be 42?  It’s like the coolest thing ever.   There’s no depression.  There’s no twinge that maybe I could have done something better in the past that would have led me elsewhere.  I have an absolutely fantastic life and I have all of you to thank for it.

Kalli is fine – she has been spayed and declawed (we didn’t want to get her declawed but it is a requirement of our lease unfortunately (please don’t hate us, Liz)).  She is apparently being affectionate and quiet (this was a shock to hear) and we can pick her up tonight.  Eddy misses her, last night he was wandering around the apartment looking for her.  We look forward to spoiling her like crazy and taking many pictures of her with a cone on her head.

Sad. So very sad.

Remember Cat Watch ’07?  And the Demon Cat and how he terrorized my poor baby Eddy?  And kept us up for all hours of the night with the yowling?  And how he was really affectionate and liked to show it by biting my nose?

Today my sister called to let me know that Sebastian has a tumor in his jaw and, while it can be treated, it is a very radical surgery.  Sebastian is an older cat and it is likely he would not survive the surgery.  So he will be provided with pain medication and soft foods and a loving home until he leaves us for Kitty Heaven.  And yes, I do believe in a Heaven where cats and dogs will frolic together in perfect harmony.   It is one of the tenets of my new church.  Pirate Jesus would want it that way.