the State of Things

Have you been wondering how we are here? Have you wondered if my bloggy silence means that BF has killed me and stuffed me in the toilet tank? Lord knows a time or two he has certainly had the motive, as have I.

Things are new here.

New is good. New is bad. New is different. New is exhausting. New is exhilarating. New is distracting. New is becoming familiar.

For the first few nights after BF arrived, I slept terribly. I woke up at all hours, fought for covers, fought for room on the bed, had my covers forcefully removed from my grasp, had sleepy arguments about who was taking up all the room, and so on. At times I woke up, simply thought, "He is here next to me now" and then went back to sleep. That makes me smile now when I think of it.

He is not working right now. That's fine; we knew this would happen. Unfortunately, job leads didn't pan out, and there has been little interest in the resumes he has put out. For now we are okay though, so we are not worrying. Part of me loves coming home to a Mr. Mom. I like that there are shiny happy doggy faces (Charlie's face is neither shiny nor happy, more on that in a minute.) waiting to greet me, sometimes errands are done, the bed is made, and the kitchen is sort of clean. I say "sort of" because he tries, God knows he does, but Domesticity is not his bag, and so things like wiping off the counters escapes him. It's cute, like when 5-year-olds make breakfast on Mother's Day. It's not really done well, but the effort is so apparent despite the lack of skills that you love it more than something easily and perfectly executed. However, he is bored with running to the post office, being the resident dog walker, and staring at the classifieds. He wants to bring in money too, and I appreciate that. Please think good thoughts for us on the job front. We need them.

Oh, animals. We have so many. Or at least it feels like we do, here in our cozy little apartment. Two hounds, one tortured feline soul. Lilly has quickly learned that this is her home, and she's rather happy with that. She would be a fool not to be- after the Long Car Ride, she got another person, a sister, and a bunch of car rides with friends and parks and dog shows waiting at the end of them. Maya is slightly less overjoyed, but still happy. She is braver now as a result of Lilly and BF. When we all go on walks together, she smiles and doesn't pull away or seem to have any reservations. I guess that a pack of two wasn't big enough for her, but four seems to be just fine. I think she gets tired of all the activity, and she seems sort of offended when Lilly steals her toys out of her crate (not that she would dream of doing anything about it). Secretly, I am sort of liking the way the New Dog and New Person have made Maya a mom's girl. She sits with me while i cook now, trails after me while I water plants, and sadly does not draw the line at trying to sit with me in the bathroom while I...you know.

And then there's Charlie.

Oh Charlie. My poor little moustache face. He now has what we call his Office- the triangle of space behind the loveseat in the office. The loveseat sits catty-cornered by the window, and so he has a private little pocket of space where no dogs can go. Occasionally he comes out, like when I pull him out of it, and close off the office, and he growls, hisses and swats at Lilly whenever possible. She can't seem to find it in herself to ignore him though; and is sort of fascinated with how much he seems to hate her guts. It's all rather exhausting, but no one has shed any blood yet, so we'll take it. I guess. Poor kitty. I miss him. I miss him sleeping on my pillow, scooping up and hugging him too hard, all of it. This is tough on him, but he's just got to keep kicking Lilly's ass till she leaves him alone. Keep fighting the good fight, Charlie.

So yeah, that's where we are. I love all the company around the house, although I have been known to pretend to be going number two, just so i can sit quietly alone and read a few pages of my domesticity book. I hide it away like it's a stack of Playboys, and savor just a little bit for a few minutes. It's bliss, all of it. Except the hissing and swatting, but that will get better, I'm sure of it.

Charlie is 6 Today

Have you ever noticed how hard it is to take good pics of kitties? Just when they look all perfectly posed and handsome, they have to be weird and start romancing rocking chairs. It's so strange.

Today, Charlie turns 6 years old. He's eaten catnip and fried chicken. I thought about making him a hat but I knew better. I like my skin where it is, thankyouverymuch.

Did I ever tell you about when I got old Mr. Fatty Bear? I went to the SPCA after just having my heart broken by a Boy that I thought was Very Special. In retrospect, he really wasn't that special at all. Anyway, I went to the SPCA, determined to find someone to love me. I went hoping to find an adult female cat.

Instead, I found three black and white kittens, asleep on each other in their litter box. I took out the first one, a boy named Merlin, and took him to the Interview Room. Merlin sort of...sat there. He was okay, but not really very interesting. I looked at him. He looked at me. I put him back in his cage. Next was a little girl named Lilly. I put Lilly on the floor, and she scrambled to hide under the couch in the Interview Room. I looked at her. She looked at me. I put her back in the cage, and grabbed a tiny little guy named Joshua. Ahem. Joshua opened his eyes, leapt out of my arms, and climbed the little fake potted tree in the Interview Room. Then flung himself from there to the couch. Then from there he jumped from the back of the couch to my pants leg and climb up. Five minutes later, I was signing paperwork for him!
Obviously he underwent a name change. He's much more of a Charlie than a Joshua. I mean really, with that big goofy moustache, where the hell did Joshua come from? Had I known then what I know now I would have named him Headache, since he's pure pain and discomfort. And fuzzy and sweet and silly and handsome. He was my first pet in my Adult Life, the first one that has relied solely on me for everything. I am impressed we have made it this far.

A Charlie Story

I was looking at the labels on my blog the other day, and I see that there is a huge disparity in how much I talk about my furry buddies. I talk about Maya much more than Charlie, and I can't really help it. Maya is newer, she's different, and she has challenges and miniature victories that are worth celebrating. For a little girl who was just a shell of a dog a few months ago, it's nice that she comes when called at the park. It's a big deal. See? There I go again.

Anyway, Charlie is not like Maya at all. Charlie has never had a hard day in his life. Anything bad that's ever happened to him has been the result of his own doing- getting left out on the porch for a few hours, falling off said porch whilst squirrel hunting, etc. From the time he was about 8 weeks old (when I got him from the shelter), he has had a little Charlie Chaplin moustache and a sense of entitlement and total bad assery like- well, like most cats. Except for the moustache thing and let me tell ya, major selling point.

So I want to tell you about something he did when he was little. Even though he will soon be six, this story still makes me laugh till my sides ache.

When Charlie was a kitten, he was brought into a home that I shared with my roommate and her cat. My roommate hated regular kitty litter, and most notably the Kitty Litter Smell. I am not fond of it, but hey, if that's what keeps the cats from pissing elsewhere- let's do what they want. That's how they get their way you know- humans fear cat pee so much, in such a deep-rooted, almost instinctual way that cats lord their pee over us and get us to bend to their will. Anyway, the gal I lived with tried out this new fangled litter (it was at the time)- that Feline Pine stuff. It's awful little pellets that turn to dust when they get wet. It didn't smell bad, but Charlie hated it.

That's what they do you know; they just hate things for no real reason other than they can, and they know that you will give them something they DO like lest they leave their pissy vengeance somewhere.

So, one weekend I go out of town. At this time Charlie was still quite small, and he was left in the care of said roommate and her cat. Well, she took this opportunity during Charlie's Human Advocate and Buyer of Stuff He Likes' absence to once again get him to use Feline Pine. And it worked great!

So she thought.

I was amazed to come home and find that he actually caved in- this high and mighty, fearless, bossy, rotten little creature gave in and used the Feline Pine! Joy! Well, no not at all. See, I had left a pile of Dry Clean Only Clothes on the floor while I was gone, and Charlie used those as his litter box for three days. She didn't know that. I reminded him of that when I found out- I was furious. Beyond furious. That pile had my Graduation Dress in it, my Work Pants, and my Big Girl Suit in it, among other stuff. I was a new college graduate (read: dirt fucking poor) and every article of clothing that was for the purpose of showing the world that I was now a Professional reeked of cat piss.

That cat was dead fucking meat. I could have killed him. I really, really, really wanted to. But I am glad I didn't, in retrospect.

Now we get to the good part. See, in case you didn't know, kitties are plotty little things. They wait for their prey, the pounce, they stalk, and most importantly- they get even.

I returned home to the pile of pee clothes on a Sunday. On Monday morning, my roommate stuck her head into my room on her way to work to tell me what a weirdo my cat is. Apparently she had her big hooded parka on in the bathroom, and Charlie insisted on climbing into the hood. Isn't that cute but strange?

Heh.

Well about two hours into my work day i get an email from my roommate in which she threatens to sell him to a restaurant. It turns out that on the way to work, she was very cold and had her hood up. She was still cold at work and kept the hood on for a while. Then she noticed a Bad Smell following her everywhere. Then, while taking her hood off, she noticed it was damp. She gave it a sniff, and I bet I don't have to tell you what had happened, do I?

Little baby kitten Charlie had gotten even. He pissed in the hood of her coat while she was wearing it, and probably giggled like a mad man when she put the hood on her head and went out for the day.

He's my hero.

This Just In

Kittehs hate crochet. Footage at eleven.

In Which A Wonder Cat Goes to The Vet

I am filing this post under the Charlie label, but if I felt like making a more accurate one, it would be something like, "OMG are you fucking KIDDING ME?!?!?!" Now that I think about it that would be a great label- very useful.

Anyway.

I took Charlie to the vet the other day. Nothing important, just an annual exam and shots, and to get him switched over to the new fancy shiny vet that Maya has been seeing. They are terrific; I love them. Well, we got to the portion of the program where the nice vet lady looks in his mouth. Now his teeth don't look like Austin Powers' teeth or anything, but they are not Simon Cowell's either. Ha, I am now laughing hysterically thinking about my sweet little kitty cat having giant bright white crazy chicklet teeth. Ha! So they tell me it's most likely time for a cleaning. I begrudgingly agree, because we have been heading towards a dental cleaning for 3 years now, easy. So the exam ends and then the little vet nurse gal comes back in to give me a quote.

Uh huh.

The low end of what it would cost to clean Charlie's teeth is $350. Three hundred and fifty dollars!!! That is INSANE! Now before you go telling me that they sedate them and blah blah blah, I know that. I KNOW. But come on- I can go to see Dr. Hotass and get like 3 fillings and half a cleaning for that! So now I am moving on to figuring out alternatives. I will buy the stupid tartar control treats. I will try again with the toothpaste. I will consider hitting him over the head with a frying pan and cleaning the teefs myself. I am not above sewing a little kitty cat straight jacket for him and doing it that way. But $350 for a kitty teeth cleaning? You are out of your fucking mind. I will let him just keep cleaning his teeth using the method pictured above. I think he's got a handle on it, don't you?

Behold

Charles the Wonder Cat

An Office Chair Gets Reborn.

No Silly! The office chair hasn't accepted Jesus, or maybe it has and I just don't know because I didn't ask.

Anyway, everyone that knows me knows that I have been moaning and groaning about sitting in that godawful kitchen chair whilst doing my computerly things. It was really starting to get uncomfortable- strangely, this did not limit my time on the computer. Well, yet again How About Orange has inspired me- by helping me to stumble upon this post at Curbly. So, on the magical day off that I got last week for no reason at all, I went thrift store shopping for a desk chair to cover. The Children's Cancer Something Or Other Thrift Store had nothing. But Cobwebs, my new favorite store, had just the thing. Behold, in all it's two toned chocolate corporate cheapo dookie glory:


So with the chair packed in the trunk by the nice Cobwebs man (the South really can be a nice place to live sometimes- chivalry is alive and well here) I toddled off to GDC Home where I got this lovely stuff on sale for $6 a yard. See, even the ever-expanding (note the pot belly!) Charlie Cat approves:


So NOT ME AT ALL, but perfect for how I am envisioning my office, and I like that it is more foliage than actual flowers. And the flowers that are on it are massive and orange, with those odd primrose cluster flower thingies thrown in. I even like those. But yeah, I love leaves and trees and stuff like that, but not huge on flowers.

So I cranked up the Buddy Guy album I raved about last week or so, and got busy. Charlie did not really approve though, because he covered the speakers with his giant self and supervised the whole thing:


Well it was long and hard and involved a few extra trips to Home Depot but it is done and it is utterly fantastic!

here is the point in the blog where I impart some wisdom so that you don't make the same mistakes I did. When shopping for your fun old-but-soon-to-be-better-than-ever desk chair, pay attention to the construction. If you don't the bottom of your chair will come off like a dream and the top may prove to be incredibly difficult. It may just not separate from the wood grain textured plastic, like mine. However, if you find that it doesn't, don't despair. I despaired and it wasn't necessary. Especially once I tried out some heavy duty spray adhesive I just so happened to have on hand. Lots of spraying, careful folding and a dash of profanity- and look! Almost looks like the real thing!

That up there is the top of the back cushion for the chair. It looks like it was made that way, doesn't it! Well, it wasn't. I folded the edges, glued the hell out of it, and wonder of wonders, it worked! I love glue. You will notice that there are some glue boogers on the plastic portion of the chair, but they are drying and proving to be super huge fun to pick off. Remember putting glue on your hands and peeling it off when you were in elementary school? It's like that. Only better somehow.

Project Stats:
Chair: $12
Fabric: $6
Lunch at Chick-fil-A: $5-ish
Length of Time: 2 to 3 hours (it should not take you this long if you don't have major troubleshooting issues like me and just skip right to the spray adhesive.

I am SERIOUSLY considering spray painting the non-fabricy parts of the chair orange like those flowers. How fun would that be?