Capably Coping with Choir, Coworkers, and Cats

I have been busy lately. GP and I are in the market for a house, the cat has been as ravenous as ever (I started a Twitter account just to document the crazy shit she eats) and I've been to two weddings. Plants and flowers are growing in the garden and on the windowsill, work is pummeling forward at a break-neck pace, my taxes are now more than a week overdue and I am finding myself happily overwhelmed with it all.

Last week I got a cold. It occurred to me that every year in the spring time I get a cold. Not allergies, but a vicious cold. A couple years ago it was pneumonia and before that it was scarlet fever. I guess that's my body's way of saying "stop doing so goddamn much" and I rarely listen. Ok, self, you have my attention; I'm listening now.

GP and I are going to visit his grandmother who is celebrating her 90th birthday this year. She is a wonderful woman who I doubt has ever said anything mean in her life. Clearly we have a lot in common (heh). I wonder if she ever gets overwwhelmed now. I don't think so, somehow. I think if there are too many things going on, she has the wisdom to know that the storm is bound to blow over sometime. Do you think that's the secret to life? I'm not sure, but it's working for me right now!

You Ask, You Receive

I'm writing this as the cat sits on my chest, so I'm going to keep it short. Since you friends asked for photos of my new clothes and since I think it's dumb to post those kinds of photos on Facebook (not entirely sure why, but I think it has something to do with not wanting other people to feel bad about how they're not as awesome as I am), I'm putting the photos here instead of there.

Without further ado, here's my stuff. The jeans and long-sleeve navy blue top are not new. Please excuse the stain on my long-sleeve top. GP has clearly been slacking in his laundry duties and has failed to Shout® that shit.



Yes, that shirt has tiny cats all over it. Note: if you ever buy me a gift, please do not think that because I really like cats I would like to start a cat-themed collection of decor/clothing/accessories/teaspoons/any combination of these items or others. If you'd like me to have a cat-related thing, give me money and I will buy it myself if I like it. There is nothing I hate more than tacky shit that collects dust, except for maybe Enbridge and/or Stephen Harper. Anyway, now is not the time or place for politics. Moving on...


I just had to include the above photo. She's so fucking cute.

The Timeless Wisdom of George Michael, or, My Offspring Will Need Therapy

While dancing unabashedly to great tunes from such disco-era legends as the Bee Gees and Prince on the "Maximum Party" channel today, baking apple/rum-filled banana bread, I came to a very important realization. That is that, had I children, perhaps this kind of behaviour would verge on child abuse. I'm pretty sure if GP and I had kids, they'd be pretty fucked up. Or hilarious. Or maybe both, depending on your definition of either term.

The ability to let loose, get crazy, and, more importantly, embrace my silly side is one of the things I like most about myself. Of course, I can be pretty uptight sometimes; it's impossible to feel completely comfortable in any situation, but I like to think I'm pretty easy-going in most scenarios. This part of my personality recently came in handy when someone made a pretty inappropriate comment about something I was wearing.

I can't give specifics in case that person finds this blog, but suffice to say they tried to knock down my confidence a notch or two with a comment about how ugly something I was wearing made me look. It was something very silly that I don't normally wear and I was trying it out, just for the heck of it. I knew I'd get some unusual reactions, and I did, but they were mostly smiles or laughter. Thus, I was caught completely off-guard when this person made such a rude and opinionated comment.

The reason it stayed with me is because I want to know the motivation behind it, or maybe I know the reason and I am mystified. Yes, the second one. The insulter (let's name her/him Franklin) has an obvious lack of confidence, so he has to make sure everyone he comes in contact with feels inferior to him. It's really quite sad.

I have a feeling that Franklin really wishes he could just let go and not worry about what other people think so much. I'm so glad that I have that trait and that either my friends do too, or it rubs off on them when they're with me. Let's hope it's genetic so that when I have kids they'll be crazy little underpants dancers like their mother. GP will just have to wait out the craziness elsewhere.

Necessary Essentials

Things I'd Need If I Were Moving to Montreal (more on this at a later date) And Were Getting There By Car And Could Only Take Ten Items (GP is not on this list; he'd be coming with me with his own list, which I suspect would consist mostly of video games and systems on which to play them):

1. The kitten and her accoutrements
2. Cuisinart food processor
3. VitaMix blender
4. Kitchenaid stand mixer
5. Cardigan knitted for me by my mum
6. My great yoga mat
7. Camera (and battery charger; that doesn't count as another thing)
8. Phone
9. My grandmothers' pearls (both sets count as one item)
10. The painting my mum did of an iris

Commentary and/or your list greatly encouraged on this post; I want to know if I've missed anything).

Haikus For You-kus

A few autumnal haikus for your (and my) enjoyment:

Drinking tea inside
Loud raindrops falling outside
I'd rather be here

Wool socks and slippers
Homemade gifts for winter time
Lost in arts of yore

The dogs are anxious
I dread a walk in the rain...
Blue skies spell relief!

And, of course, it wouldn't be a blog post without something kitten-related:

Kitten sleeps deeply
A perfect feline circle
Warm, soft, and purring

A Figment of Your Imagination

GP can't go grocery shopping with me without getting thoroughly frustrated and, oddly, sweaty. Actually, it might not really be odd that he gets sweaty. My grocery shopping style, much like my approach to life in general, is disorganized, indulgent and highly irrational. Some days I will want nothing but pea shoots and falafels. Other times my attention to good nutrition (ha! The kitten just pounced on my typing fingers from afar; what a little scamp!) goes out the window and I will eat an entire wheel of Gorgonzola and a loaf of olive bread for dinner. That's no joke. It has happened more times than I care to divulge.

It's not just my shopping mindset that is frustrating. The reason why GP gets sweaty, as I didn't really fully explain in the previous paragraph, is that I don't even physically approach the shop from a systematic perspective. My travel pattern around the store is an erratic zig-zag. I'll go to the individual sections of the shop many times before leaving, and even after that, I'll probably return because I usually remember what I've forgotten to get as I sit down in my car.

The point of all this rambling would be wholly irrelevant if it weren't for the fact that, in a recent haphazard voyage to the shop, I bought two wonderful looking figs on a whim. I love figs. I love the taste of them, I love the look of them, and I especially love the feel of them. They are much heavier than they seem, but their skin is so soft and fragile. I know what you're thinking, you pervert, and you're completely correct- they do look like that and my description doesn't help.

Here is what I did with my figs:
I cut them both in half, spooned some ricotta on top, spooned some unpasteurized local honey on top of that and then topped the whole thing with walnuts and stuck it under the broiler. This is what they looked like before:











And this is what they looked like after:

Pretty delish.




I actually didn't realize the fruit was in the same position in both photos until I uploaded the photos just now. I must've really been on the ball!

The Scatterbrain Bird Alights

Maybe my repose away from blogging wasn't very brief, but if you know anything about me, you know that I am not one to apologize for not writing on my own blog. So I hope, if you're reading this, you're not here because you thought you'd read some pathetic groveling prose making impossible promises about how I'll never leave you again, dear readers. It is very likely that I will leave you again. Just so you know.

Predictably, much has happened since my last, very sad, post. GP and I had to say goodbye to our dear Friskies. On Friday, July 24th, I took the afternoon off from work so we could hang out together. It was a lovely sunny warm day, so we went outside. She had been hiding under the bed for most of the week, but she knew that this was a special opportunity, so she came out and enjoyed the sun. We sat next to the roses on the edge of the lawn and watched bugs in the grass. Greg also left work early to spend some time with her. Then we took her in to the vet's, where they have a room for goodbyes, painted in soothing colours with a nice little table with soft padding. She was injected with painkillers and I petted her until she fell asleep.

I doubt I'll ever be able to talk or write about her death without crying, but I know it was the right decision. I will always miss her and she'll always have a special place in my heart. I know she'd be happy, too, that GP and I now have a new cat to keep us on our toes. Her name is Reese and she is both a delight and a little beast, at 15 weeks old tomorrow. As I type this, she's half sitting on my lap. The other half is slowly sliding off the sofa as her tiny oblivious body shudders from the depth of her purring. The only thing keeping her on the sofa is my arm. How adorable, she just yawned and stretched! After a few months, it really was time for us to get a new feline friend. Reese is short-haired, so GP has less of an excuse to complain about allergies, although I'm sure he won't let this stop him!

Work is going very well. In my time at the company I've already seen a new person in the same position as me be hired and fired, so I believe I'm doing quite well. Two weeks from today will mark the end of my three-month probation period, at which time you won't have to guess who's going to work in her pajamas. Yesterday the boss man asked me into his office to show me a new advertising tool we're going to be using for our clients. He gave me more instruction on it today and I thought it was going well until I stepped out of his office and realized I had enormous gaping holes in my knowledge and I don't really know how to go about putting together my client's campaign at all. I think he and I have an understanding, though, so I doubt asking for extra help will be an issue.

Another fantastic thing about work: they support my cat-loving ways. I'm not sure whether or not they're just humouring me, but everyone I've shown pictures to (90 percent of the people at work) has ooh'd and aah'd over Reese. The chances that they all call me a crazy cat lady behind my back are pretty good, but I came to terms with that part of myself a long time ago.

Other happenings: my birthday, GP's birthday. We went to Quadra Island to celebrate our aging and had a lovely time, despite our progression into senility (especially GP). My mum made me a cake, but I don't think she realizes my birthday isn't at Christmas, because, well, you can see from the icing. Not that I complained; it was delicious. My garden is still growing, even though I've been mostly neglecting it. When my broccoli raab was still edible, I was using it for killer dishes like the pasta salad to the right, upon which a delectable piece of baked halibut is perched, with pesto from my basil.

I don't want to make any promises, but I have a few awesome blog post topics up my sleeve. So expect more soon. Or not.