I'm such an asshole.

Posted on my husband's Facebook page, for him to find when he gets home from work:

Dear Husband,

As I was rushing out of the door this morning I noticed something small and fuzzy by the bench. At first I though it was a toy mouse and then realized it was a mouse mouse. And dead. Or sleeping? Probably dead. I was late and also no way was I going to touch the dead thing, so welcome home! Please can you dispose of the mouse by the door?

Love,
Adrien

How Not to Spend your Evening.

I had a great day yesterday. Completely stellar, really. It was just one of those magical days where good things happen and you feel really great to be alive. This is usually how you feel right before something totally shitty happens, right? Right.

So, last night around 9pm I let Stella out. It was raining which usually means she'd just hang out on the side porch and demand to come  in five minutes later. Two seconds after I let her out I completely forgot about her until bedtime, when Kenny was all, "Um, where's Stella?" Oops. Not good.

He went out in the dark, cold rainy night to look for her while I pretended to maybe see if he needed help. Meaning, I stood at the door calling her name until it was too cold to have the door open. Hey, I was in my pajamas and it was raining.

From the back yard Kenny said he could hear her and he wandered off, following the sound of her yowls. Then he came back in with Very Serious Face. Apparently she'd gotten herself treed. Again. Usually when this happens it's in one of the smaller trees in our yard and she comes down after a bit of cajoling.

This time, according to Kenny, she was up pretty high in a tree on our next door neighbor's property. Yes, he needed help and could I come hold the ladder. Goddammit. I pulled on boots and a coat over my pajamas and grimly followed him outside. It was midnight. Outside. Raining. Cold. Not our yard. Not good so far.

Then after tromping through the underbrush of the empty lot next to our neighbor's house, I saw the tree and...oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I think I stood there with rain falling in my face as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. It was a big-ass tree, straight up and down with a comical stubby broken nub of a branch about 20-25 feet up. On that broken nub branch? My cat.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

I mean, what the hell were we going to do? She was yowling and wet and freaked out and SO FAR UP THERE. The ladder we own is 17' and it didn't even come close to where she was.

We talked to her a while and cajoled and discussed. Even if she could figure out how to get down, she'd most likely fall part of the way. The next closest branch was a good 15 feet below her. Oh my God. I have never felt so helpless in my entire life. There was literally nothing I could do to help her.

We stood there in the dark, in the cold dark rainy night trying to figure out what to do and hoping that the neighbors didn't call the police. It started to rain harder.  We went inside and I got online to see if I could find any ideas. Meanwhile, Kenny took a large piece of foam he'd been hoarding and put it under the tree, just in case.

The Internet declared the best thing to do was to leave the cat alone, as she was less likely to come out of a tree if there were people at the base yelling at her. So, we finally decided to just go to bed and if she was still up there in the morning we'd call a tree service and beg for help.

Kenny camped out on the couch so he'd hear her if she came to the door, but we were both still really freaked out and sleep was not going to be a thing, really.

20 minutes later we heard a squawk and there she was, wet to the skin and HAPPY AS HELL to be home. I have no idea how she got herself out of that tree but she was completely unharmed. Damn cat. And here:

Oh my God, right?  Do not recommend.

Here's a Headline for you, Anderson

Did you guys see this?

If you didn't, let me convince you to watch:  Pee Wee Herman, Anderson Cooper, drunken shenanigans, intervention, Chairy tells Anderson to get the fuck off her. If that's not enough, I am not doing my job.

I Did Not Green Light This.

Did you see this? I am AGHAST. And also a little amused by how much it tweaked me. I am a CAPRICORN, DAMMIT. It is part of my (fake mythological) identity! Even though I've never quite felt like Capricorn! Please observe:


"The Capricorn individual is stable (eh), hard-working (um), practical (ha!), methodical (sure), and ambitious (no), never losing sight of his goals regardless of how many obstacles are in the way (You! Get out of my...what? Oooh, shiny.)

Socially, Capricorn is inhibited and uncomfortable in new situations (yes), approaching others at first with caution and suspicion (totally).  As far as money is concerned, Capricorn approaches finances as he does everything else - with prudence, planning, and discipline. (HA! HHAAAAAAAAA!!)  As such, there are not many Capricorns on the bottom of the barrel in society (Hi! It's nice in this barrel. Very...bottom-y.)"

Anyway, even though I'm not the Capri-est of Capricorns, its still part of my identity and I am NOT AT ALL PLEASED to be lumped into Sagittarius all of a sudden. Nothing wrong with Sagittarius if you are one, but I am not. For one thing, it's an extrovert sign. NON.

So, where do you fall in this new realm of things? I think it'll never stick. People are too invested in their fakery astrological personality whatnot to switch out now. Hmph.

Speaking of Capricorn-ness, my birthday approaches! It's Sunday and I'm looking forward to a weekend full of cake and gifts. I think I'm going to go see The King's Speech tomorrow with my mother, so there will be some Firth too. I think any weekend can be made better with a little Firth, really.

So, what are you doing this weekend?

Breathing Room.

You thought I wasn't going to do it, didn't you? But here I am, eking out a weekly entry as promised.

So, wanna know what the best thing I got for Christmas is? It's almost as good as a pony. Actually, in some ways it's better than a pony because it doesn't require upkeep. Can you guess?

Dudes, I am getting MY OWN OFFICE. WITH WINDOWS. PLURAL.

Yes! The department I work in is being moved to the next building over and we're getting out of the windowless basement space we're in now. Currently I don't even have a proper cube, just a triangular desk that fits into a corner, Blair Witch murder style. I also have my back to the door so I jump out of my skin approximately 800 times a day. It's not... ideal. In fact, it makes me irritable and bitchy. Whoever came up with the open-office thing just needs to be shot because who can actually get anything done when there are people talking right behind you? It's maddening.

So, in three weeks I'll be packing up my drawers full of garbage and moving to my own little space with a door and a view and oh, all mine. And this change will hopefully making me at least 25% less bitchy. But no promises.

Happy Blog Anniversary to Me.

Okay, I couldn't have the last entry of 2010 be something so sad, so here I am writing a desperate update post-holiday. Christmas was a bit chaotic, but really pretty nice overall. Our tree this year is cute and a bit scrappy:

I saw it at Lowe's and felt sorry for it, so it had to come home with us. Aw.

Also, we had a white Christmas this year! Amazing. Even though I'd decided I hated snow after last year's pummeling, it was still really nice to have snow on Christmas. The next day it was still snowing so we did a snow ride:

It's more fun than it sounds like. The snow was still coming down so we were in the woods all snowy and quiet and it was just unlike anything else. Like you're on another planet. (Also, if you fall it doesn't really hurt.)

Finally, this is a blog-anniversary for me! It's my 8th. Eight years ago I was a miserable temp at a miserable bank loan center and I started this blog (on Diaryland) as an Internet cry for help. Here's my first-ever entry: http://amblus.diaryland.com/021231_70.html

It's terrible, but it got really good for a while and now we're back to terrible. So, here's my resolution: I resolve to update my Amblus blog at least once a week for the entire damn year of 2011. If I don't, you can shake your finger up in my face or something.

Thanks for reading! I look forward to annoying you for the year to come. 

Farewell to Stripes.

Last week was the normal week-length,  but so much happened that it feels like it was much longer. The previous weekend was all about things ending, about of sadness mixed with relief, of happiness and grief.

At the beginning of December we noticed that Zephyr (aka Stripes) was starting to lose weight rapidly. She eventually stopped eating altogether, though she'd try because she knew we wanted her to. At sixteen she'd done a lot of living and had been on hyperthyroid meds for the past four years, so her health had been a concern.

We took her to the vet and got blood tests done and the results were not surprising, but still devastating: her kidneys were failing and there wasn't much that could be done. We took her home over the weekend and she mostly slept but also spent a lot of time on our laps, still sweet, still purring. 

By last Monday we knew it was time. It was snowing that morning and when I carried her out to the car she looked around with interest, snowflakes sticking to her ears. She sat in my lap all the way to the vet, never protesting once. She was frail and tired and had no fight left. 

So, last Monday, my dear stripey friend left us and we're still at odds and ends. Even though it was time, we're still missing her so much.

Zephyr was a scrappy stray that my sister rescued for me. The first day I brought her home she burrowed under a pile of laundry and stayed there for hours, all a-tremble. But, once she got used to me she became the sweetest, wildest, funniest cat ever. 

She loved me to sing to her and would meow and dance around when I did. She loved tuna, she loved Kenny's lap, she loved being outside. She was an excellent hunter of birds and rodents and, when our downstairs neighbor became pregnant, Zephyr started leaving gifts of (decapitated) mice on the back porch for her. Thoughtful!

But that best thing was that she was the kind of cat you could pick up and hold like a baby and she would purr just because she loved you. A rarity.

Oh, Stripes, we sure do miss you.