Tuesday, May 31, 2011

She's Alive! She's Alive!

I would just like to start by saying hi. I love you guys.  And I am really, really sorry I have failed at being a blogger these last few weeks. I feel like everything I have to say I have beat to death. And then some. I don't feel challenged at my job. I want to do something new. My job has health insurance and pays better than anything I can find. I feel like I can't leave. Whine, whine, whine. You have all heard it before.

So, I will just give you a quick update on what has been going down around here.

NCH is finally normal, although I may have gotten him accidentally drunk yesterday. I broke a bottle of beer and some of it got in the animals water bowl. Whoops! I am a terrible parent.

We had a huge cookout yesterday for Memorial Day and it was amazing. We smoked a bunch of meat and got to hang out with friends. I miss my friends. People that I talked to almost every single day sometimes feel like strangers to me. That is, until I spend an entire afternoon with them laughing and getting the meat sweats. Then I remember that this is why we are so close. At one point, the talk turned to babies and the preggers Big Jed mouthed to me, "I am pregnant and I still don't want to talk about kids." I laughed SO HARD. I love her.

I am trying to raise money to get Cee Lo an arm extension. I don't even know if this is a thing.

I got my hair did! I got bright red highlights. I love them. Love, love, love them. I feel so punk rock. Ha! I am so not punk rock. I just needed something different. I will post a picture when I get around to taking a picture. My mother is hounding me too.

Did anyone see Lady Gaga on Saturday Night Live? I love "Born This Way" because it is an amazing message in a time where I think teens need to hear it. However...that bitch is CRAZY. Seriously, when she is on the television, I am mesmerized by her in a not very complimentary way. My face looks something like this:

Doesn't my hair look good? Ha! 

So, in summary...I miss you guys. And I promise I am coming back. But, for now, I am here and alive and thinking about all of you and how disconnected I feel from everyone right now. The only person who can change that is me.

What is going on with all of you? Other than EVERYONE IS HAVING BABIES!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Anything else new?

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The shortest arms EVER

You guys, something has been bothering me. And I have no one to talk about it with. It involves confessing a weakness of mine I am not sure I am ready to confess.

Here I go. I watch The Voice. THERE. I said it. Judge away. I'll give you a moment to laugh and point.

So, here is what is bothering me. I hope that at least one of you watches this show and can discuss this with me because I need someone to say, yes, Erratic, I have noticed this too and find it really fucking weird.

Cee Lo's arms. WHY ARE THEY SO SHORT. He is like a T-Rex. They are the shortest arms I have ever seen. I feel like he would be unable to reach anything. Ever. I picture him standing there trying to reach something right in front of him, but he can't, because HE HAS THE TINIEST ARMS I HAVE EVER SEEN.

Also, what the fuck was with Ellen Owen? Why didn't they go by Ellen and Owen? Was that weird to anyone else? I mean, not as weird as Cee Lo's arms, but still.


It bothers me to the point that it is hard for me to watch when the camera is on him. I know, I know, I am the one with the problem. What is so totally ironic about this is that one of my supervisors at work used to call me T-Rex because my arms are so short. Paired next to someone my height, they usually have about 6 inches on me in arm length. But, dude...nothing like this. NOTHING LIKE THIS.

But, if it is like this, please tell me. I will get an arm implant. Or something.

I really like this show, though. And I don't know why. Please tell me that at least one of you likes it too....

Monday, May 16, 2011

There is no way this day was real.

Sometimes you have bad days. Sometimes you have good days. Sometimes you have days that seem like they lasted for 18 hours and it isn't even dinner time yet. Today was one of those days.

Woke up to NCH peeing on the bed at 6 am. (we have had some stress related problems with him since we lost Kobers) There was blood in it. Fuck.

Stripped the bed and went downstairs to the basement, which led to a long, serious conversation with the boy that should never be had at 6 am.

Attempted to go back to sleep. Failed.

Called the vet, made an appointment for 10 am.

Attempted to go back to sleep. Failed.

Took Neil to the vet where I waited for AN HOUR before they would see me. The only option was sedating him and getting tests done. To the tune of $360. Fuck. While waiting, had to reschedule 2 job interviews. Guess who is not getting hired? Crazy cat girl.

Went to the only remaining job interview. Have a preview shift during Saturday night dinner rush. Fuck. That is just cruel and unusual, people. Cruel and unusual.

Got asked during my interview if I had a problem with the typical vulgarity in kitchens, because I am a woman and all. I almost directed him to my blog.

Met Iceburg Jones for lunch, wherein I had to tell him that we can't take on a roommate right now. Felt horrible, but he made me laugh, which made me feel better. Also, he might have still been asleep. And should change his name to Mark.

Came home and FINALLY took a nap. Woke up to the vet calling. Neil was awake and there was blood in his urine. Thank God for your veterinary medicine degree. I HAD NO IDEA. The tests revealed nothing else. Shoot me in my broke ass face.

$100 in antibiotics and more kitty Xanax (yes, this is round 2 of anti anxiety medication FOR MY CAT) and prescription diet to help his urinary tract issues. Which they found no sign of, but are just guessing that is the case. You know, because of their dynamite urine in the blood diagnosis. 

They bring him out in his cat carrier and he is FLIPPING out. I open the carrier and he buries himself in my lap. And pees. All over me. In the lobby of the vet office. While I wait for his prescriptions. FOR TWENTY MINUTES.

We drive home, Neil clinging to me the whole way. I attempt to give him a bath, which ends in him leaping over the counter, spraying pee and water all over the kitchen. I strip off all my clothes and take a shower, resolving myself to a house covered in cat pee.

I contemplate curling up in the fetal position until the boy gets home.

I give Neil his antibiotic, getting bit in the process, and his kitty Xanax. 


Do you think that kitty Xanax would work on humans?

Thursday, May 12, 2011


I just applied for, like, 15 jobs. It felt good. Maybe I will take one, maybe I won't. But I feel less trapped and more hopeful. I feel like I have options. There are jobs out there that aren't this one that will allow me to grow and use the skills I paid a small fortune for. 

Change is scary.

Options are good. 

Friends don't let friends have pet cemetery's in their living room.

Hi. I had a really rough day. Work was like being slowly beaten to death with delicious rotisserie chicken. Sounds pleasant?  It's not. Trust me.

Yesterday's post, by the way, was I don't know what to do with his ashes, not I can't go on. I realize it sounded sort of...dramatic? Definitely dramatic. I am doing fine. Better than I expected actually. Our house is starting to normalize too. Neil is back to plotting my murder in the corner and short dog has resumed chewing on rawhide. The pictures are still up and it brings a smile to my face to see them now, instead of a blubbering nervous breakdown. I think we are going to be O.K.

So, about the ashes. Um. What do you do with pet ashes? I thought it would bother me to have them in the house, but it doesn't. At all. It makes me feel like he is here. But, I love pets. I will always have pets. And I picture myself in 30 years with like 8 wood boxes full of pet ashes and if life has taught me ANYTHING it is to lean towards looking less crazy. This leads me to think that scattering them is the right decision, but isn't that like saying goodbye all over again? Because it feels like that. In fact, I don't think I can do that. Not yet. 

I also contemplated burying them in Big Jed's yard and putting up a little grave stone. She will be in her house FOREVER and she has space and I could totally go visit him! But, there is one problem; I have not, in any way, discussed this with her. Also, I don't know if I even want to do this.

Gah! How do people make these decisions about PEOPLE? 

So, the moral of the story is that I don't know what to do. For now, keeping them feels right. So, I am going to do that. I just need a promise from all of you that if you ever come to my house and there is a weird pet cemetery in the corner that you will intervene. YOU MUST INTERVENE. 

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Ashes to ashes

The card contains his footprint and the story of the rainbow bridge. I am not sure what to do now...
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Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Pucker Up

I don't understand this whole trend in taking pictures of yourself inches from your face with your lips puckered. I just don't. Are we all trying to look like Lisa Renner? Because she looks plastic. And too tan. And gross. Granted, I work with people much younger than me. They friend me on Facebook and then I see these pictures and I am instantly like, wow, you look like a fucking idiot. I mean, nice lipstick, you know, since it is a quarter of an inch from my retinas. Also, nice pores. And why do these pictures alway seem to be taken from a laying down position? Are you trying to entice men by making them think you are laying on your back, legs spread, lips puckered, waiting? You all look like over-glossed whores. Oh, and your pores aren't that great either. 
I think a picture of a woman laughing is much sexier. Or even just caught off guard and smiling. I am old, I get this. I am no longer at an age in my life where I am trying to attract men like a dog in heat. My self worth is not based solely on if other people think I am sexy.  
My favorite pictures are those that catch moments of happiness. Pictures that are unexpected. Pictures that make you smile even if you don't know the person in them. 
I will never get the puckered picture. It just makes beautiful women look silly.

Monday, May 9, 2011

A note

The 24 hour vet that we took Kobi to sent a card. I was scared to open it, but it turned out to be the sweetest thing I have ever read. These people have met me once, when the short dog ate one and a half pounds of sugar and had to be kept over night. And that was only the vet. The vet tech had never met me. Both messages were handwritten.

Ms. Erratic,

I'm so sorry for your loss of Kobi. He seemed like such a sweet boy and I know he will be missed. Try to take comfort in the many happy memories you shared. You are in our thoughts during this difficult time.

The Vet

I'm so sorry for your loss. I know Kobi was a big part of your life and he will be greatly missed. Always remember all of the good times and the years you had together. My thoughts are with you during this difficult time.

The Vet Tech

In the card was a packet of seeds...Forget Me Nots. We are going to plant them with the herb garden as soon as it stops raining.

Maybe they write this on every card. Maybe they don't. Both of them were on the verge of tears that night. Both of them were genuinely empathetic. Regardless, it touched me.

Yesterday was the first day I didn't cry. I cried off and on all day today. NCH is on anti-anxiety drugs and Short Dog is just lost. The boy is distracted by work, but still clearly sad. I just want this house to be normal again...I feel like there is a dark cloud hanging over us, cartoon style. 

I just want a cat that isn't stoned, a dog that looks happy, and a boy that smiles. And to not cry. That part too.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all the mom's out there.

The expecting moms, who can't wait to meet their little babies.

The new moms who just did.

The seasoned moms and the grandmoms.

I hope all of your days were filled with sunshine and a little peace and quiet.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Water Works

I am restless. I find my mind wandering off. I can't fall asleep, so when I finally do, I sleep all day. My whole body hurts from laying around all the time. I know it's only been two days. 48 hours. I feel stupid that this has affected me as much as it has. I wake up and reach over to cuddle with him. It is so weird letting out one dog, coming home to one dog. The house feels so empty. 11 years of coming home to a tail that could knock out a toddler. 11 years of him bringing me a toy. I feel so empty.

My car is weird. I feel like he is there with me in the car for some reason. When we would drive, he always put his head over my left shoulder and sniffed. I keep checking over my shoulder.

His bed is still in our bedroom. His giant bone still sitting at the bottom of the stairs. His food bin sits, full, with his food bowl on top of it. His pictures are everywhere.

I worked 12 hours after we put him down and was a mess at first, but ended up fine. As soon as I got in my car to drive home, I started sobbing. I can't handle the quiet moments, the moments when I have time to think.  

I have never lost anyone I was close to. So, maybe I just don't how to grieve. Maybe this response is normal. Maybe I am a crazy person.

I know it will get better, I do. I will keep hugging the short dog and the boy and forcing Neil to tolerate a hug here and there. I will keep busy and distracted. I will hope that one day I will go a whole day without mother fucking crying. Because, you guys, this is a lot of crying.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

A tribute.

I had to put Kobi down this morning. Late last night/early this morning he started panting and couldn't move. It turns out he had a form of cancer that was causing bleeding around his heart and in his abdomen. Nothing could be done.
 He was the best dog in the world. I got him when I was 18 and had just been in Ohio for a year. I remember the day I got him, sitting in the back seat of Krackle's car holding him the whole way home. I didn't have the heart to make him sleep in the closet bed I made him, so he slept with us the first night. I watched as he outgrew crate after crate, collar after collar. The 20 lb dog I was promised at the shelter turned into a 70 lb best friend.
 He was an awful puppy. Destroyed everything in his path. I wish I had electronic puppy pictures of him. He was pretty damn cute.
 He has been with me through countless boyfriends, roommates, apartments, cars, jobs, everything. 11 years of memories.
 He always had the saddest eyes, even though he was the happiest dog in the world. He would look at you and you would cave and give him anything and everything he wanted. How could you resist those eyes?
 Oh, the eyes.
 As he got older, he started to slow down. He slept all day, mostly under a blanket of some sort. He got diagnosed with arthritis in his spine and had trouble jumping up and down, unless of course there was an invite to crawl under the covers in bed.
 He never lost his love for life. At times, he acted just like a puppy. Especially on walks and when presented with rawhide.
 After he was done playing, it always looked like he was smiling.
 When the vet came in and told us that he was in pain, the decision was the easiest decision I have ever made, though it was also the hardest thing I have ever done. We chose to be present and he looked right into my eyes through the whole thing. After he took his last breath, I closed his eyes and cried, just holding him. As soon as he started to get cold, I couldn't do it anymore and we left. I asked to get his ashes and I plan to sprinkle them at some of his favorite spots.

Goodbye, buddy. You are irreplaceable and will always be in my heart.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

I am a book nerd

I read a lot of books. My favorite thing in the world is compromised of a glass of wine, a blanket, and a book. It's my happy place, the place I go to to escape everything else. I become a wizard at Hogwarts or a vampire in Elizabethan England or a soldier in World War II. I read everything; fiction and non fiction, classics, fantasy, cookbooks, everything. I love it. I want to get swept away into someone else's world, whether real or not, and escape my own.

My kindle is full of books, categorized and waiting to be read. I buy only the cheap ones when Amazon runs it's specials and I have bought some truly terrible books and I have found some of the most amazing books I have ever read. Most of them are about witches and wizards, I admit it. Those books just seem to be on sale. Oh, and books by Glenn Beck. Not even downloading that shit if it is free.

I was pleasantly surprised when Amazon was giving away one of it's top books of the month. That almost never happens. I downloaded it and immediately began reading. I finished the book in a week and was left sort of empty. It wasn't finished. No way this story was finished. I went to amazon to look for a sequal. Nope. Nothing. I googled and found the author's website. 

You guys, it's a trilogy.  TRILOGY. And the third book doesn't come out until 2012. TWO THOUSAND AND TWELVE. Does the world not know about my total lack of patience? Does Amazon not understand that giving away a good book a year before it's sequel comes out is cruel?

I am not happy.

Monday, May 2, 2011

The procrastinating spaz

I am a procrastinator. If someone tells me that I have to do something by 4:00, guaranteed I will be rushing out of the house at 3:45 and doing 80 on the highway to get there in time to do it. 

I have this weird thing about waiting until I leave the house to get ready. I don't get up and shower and get dressed. I don't get ready until right before I leave the house. For example, I have to be at work at 4:00 almost every shift I work. If I go in for a shift meal, I get in the shower at 2:45, leave the house at 3:00 and get there at 3:30 leaving myself exactly a half hour to eat my shift meal. If I don't, I get in the shower at 3:15 to leave the house at 3:30. 

I have to turn in time sheets for school and if they are not in on Monday, I start losing points. Guess what day I turn them in on every single time? Monday. I have them almost a week before that. School is less than 2 miles from work.

I pay bills the last day that I can without getting charged a late fee. If the house has to be clean for company, I am cleaning it hours before they arrive. I am always throwing things in a bag as I am walking out the door for vacations and trips. 

I hate this about myself. It makes me CRAZY that I do this. I am always rushing around and doing things at the last possible second.

But, when I want something? I am a fucking spaz. I want it right this second, right now, no waiting, no way. Once I am ready to go out? We are leaving. Going to be early? I don't care. I am ready, let's do this now. If there is a present in the house for me, I am like a rabid dog. I won't stop until that present has been opened. Planning an event? I want to plan every single detail the second that it is decided. It kills me to wait for shit to be delivered in the mail. KILLS. ME. Even if it is something as mundane as heat resistant spatulas. I tear that package open like it contains a million dollars. 

I wish there was a middle ground...a way to be less of a procrastinator AND less of a spaz. 

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Here I go again...

An interesting point on the sustainable farming movement. I don't think it is elitist to know where your food comes from and demand that it is safe.

Just think of what a different world it would be if every single person just ate one meal a week that is completely local. I'm not even talking organic, I am just saying meeting the farmer that grew the vegetables, meeting the farmer that raised the cow, hell, even meeting the cow that provided the milk. It would change the face of farming as we know it.