Leaving

I was going to spend the week writing about my pets in hopes to make me start to feel some warmth towards them again.  Bah-forget it.

I found this comment in the “Comment” section of Indychannel today.  Normally there isn’t a whole lot of intelligence or insight to be found on the comment section of Indychannel, but this one struck a chord with me.  People were whining and complaining about what a horrible state Indiana is, and having dated one and currently dating another man that hates this state, it struck a nerve.  Then I read this comment, posted by someone called “Carpe Diem”:

“I always laugh when I see people complain. I used to feel the same way. I always thought that every place was so much better than right here, and I would never come back to this "awful state". I traveled and lived in different cities around the U.S.  
 
You know what I learned? It makes absolutely NO difference where you live. Each of the "Meccas" have their own negatives. I decided the perfect place to live is where the people I love the most are. I created my "Mecca" in my home and backyard. I can go to museums, cook, read, travel, and surround myself with family and friends .  
 
I have also found that people who are miserable and complaining will be miserable and complaining no matter where they live. Good luck with that. You might try Prozac instead of a moving van. A little Prozac also might make you more tolerable to family and you will have more friends. You may even decide to stick around.”

Amen.

My brother told me once that I take things too personally.  Yeah, being the youngest, I probably do.  As I mentioned above though, hearing someone constantly tear apart the state where I live and the people that live in it, where my home and my family and my friends are, does hurt me because in a way they are ripping on me and what I am about, where I grew up, and where I simply “am”.

I’m not saying there are other places I would love to go.  I love Colorado.  When I visited there I felt a peace I’d never felt before.  I love Buffalo, I feel a comfort there knowing that is where both of my parents grew up and seeing the places where they may have hung out, and went to school.

My jobs are here.  One of which can be pretty draining, but it has seen me through 11 years-a divorce, the birth of a kid, and the death of a boyfriend.  The other one is a dream I have always had since the first time I ever got on a horse.  I’ve always wanted to work in the horse world, and now I am.  It also came with something I didn’t know I had, a huge adoration for kids with special needs and a huge desire to work with them.  My family is here, my friends are here, and every home I have ever had is within a 20 mile radius.  You can’t take that stuff away from me.

I’m losing my boyfriend to another state.  He doesn’t have any ties here and his son is moving away so I can definitely understand and respect that.  He hates it here, he hates the weather, and he’s not so keen on the people, either, being from L.A..  The thought of losing him absolutely sucks and it hurts.  Of course the question of whether or not I would move for him has come up, and that’s where all this is coming from.  I feel like there should be some question or indecision but there isn’t.  I kept thinking, if it is in God’s plan for us to be together, something will change and he will stay here, that his son won’t end up moving.  None of this happened, and a month from this moment right now he’s going to be gone.  No more purple truck across the street, just an empty apartment I have to see every time I leave for work and a heartbroken kid.

I need some prayers and I'm gonna need my peeps over the next couple of months, but like that guy said, my "Mecca" is here.

Kitties

In my quest to reconnect with my pets this week instead of resent, I’m going to take the next few blogs as opportunities to find the good, funny things about my pets.

As I stated on Facebook earlier, I’ve had cats my whole life, many different cats.  Tonight, as I gathered a cat up in each arm to carry them away from the mouse cage, I realized one thing:  Every single time I have ever picked up two cats at the same time, one of them finds it to be a prime opportunity to beat the holy living crap out of the other one.  “Haha, you’re trapped, just like me, and you’re MINE now, sucka.  Make sure you dig your claws into mom’s back fat while I slap your face mercilessly so she can drop you on your head again.”

I’ve slammed doors on heads, hips, tails, and they still run like there is a fire to get out the front door before it shuts.  I mean, I feel their pain, I can totally relate sometimes but what is so enticing about racing out the front door and down the stairs, just to get the heebie jeebies and race back up the stairs and back into the house again?  Nemo however has gotten over being scared.  He sits down there and waits for one of us to pick him up so he can turn into a noodle and shift all 15 of his gelatinous pounds to his head, causing us to drop him on his face.  Emma, who has lived here for 4 years, races back to the top of the stairs and then moseys over to the wrong door every time.

They say cats are born knowing what the sound of an electric can opener means.  What is weirder is my cats eat only dry food and I have a manual crank can opener.  I’ve tried the electric ones but have pretty much destroyed them going all ballistic because I don’t have the patience for the moon and stars to correctly align so it will open my can.  However, my non electric can opener is relatively silent and they can still hear me crank open a can of peas from the other side of the apartment.

I am very strict about the cleanliness of the litterbox, and so is Nemo because if I don’t shovel it out at least twice a day he starts his own personal turd collection behind the TV.  He’s found that they are safer behind the TV because if he puts them somewhere else, like say, in front of the TV the dog steals them.  ‘Nuff said.  Anyhow, the box is located next to the water heater, which Emma tries to use to bury her waste when she is done.  Yes, I’m talking about the water heater.  8 lb cat vs. gazillion pound water heater.  After years of this not working, she still spends five minutes digging at the side of the water heater before she is satisfied enough to walk away from it.

Nemo is completely unaware of the danger of small children.  You see pictures of little girls stuffing 20 pound cats into doll dresses, and the cat has this look of complete resignation and general ticked offed-ness on its face.  Not Nemo.  Nemo’s expression never changes.  No matter what torture Shelby is putting him through, he always looks like he just spotted a rainbow, or a plate of cupcakes.  The only other expression he sports occasionally is of complete exhaustion after spending the evening being mauled and humped by the dog.

These are the things that have kept those cats safe in my home for all these years.

Life is...Short

Life is Too Short

Bruce’s death taught me lot of things, the main thing being that life is too short.  I use his death as an example because he was only 33 when he died.  “The Sharp Knife of a Short Life” as the song says.  Looking back, and seeing all the things I said to him and nagged at him about break my heart, because they don’t matter anymore.  I hurt his feelings and made him mad over stupid, meaningless, pointless stuff, and then he was gone.

For a while I was so bitter, and so righteous and considered myself to be quite the expert on heartache and life in general.  I would get so mad when I would see a couple argue.  I just wanted to shake them and scream “One of you could be dead tomorrow!”  People’s problems seemed so trivial to me, because I was such an expert on what a “real” problem was.  At the same time, there were things I wouldn’t let go of because I couldn’t stand the thought of another “loss”.  I put up with an extraordinary amount of crap because hey, life is too short.  There does have to be a balance (and mine was way off.).

Don’t get me wrong…I still try to be the least dramatic person I possibly can (although I have my moments, and I’ve had A LOT of them lately).  But I do feel like people (including my hypocritical self) miss out on a lot.

So, a few rules to live by since…life is too short:

Sometimes, if it isn’t a safety issue and isn’t going to hurt anything, it really is okay to just smile and nod, keep your opinions to yourself, even when you think someone has done or is about to do something stupid.  Does it matter in the grand scheme of things?  Is it worth losing a friend/family member?  Do you enjoy being a buzzkill?  Do you like seeing someone’s expression change from joy to defeat because you opened your mouth? If so, it’s gonna rock when they prove you wrong.  You aren't going to win.  You lose, no matter what the outcome is.

This one I learned from my boss, who raised 3 kids and now has a pile of grandkids:  Yes, they are annoying, they are exhausting, and they are slightly psychotic, but don't break a little kid's spirit.  Choose your battles.  Let them make some of their own decisions and suffer from the consequences occasionally.  Sit back now and then and watch them work through it.  Well, unless it involves property damage or a potential visit to the E.R. 

Stay here on earth...I have friends on Facebook whose statuses I have blocked because they are just constant, angry, opinionated political rants.  So what is going on in your own life?  How happy are your kids?  How clean is your house?  How neat is your checkbook?  How much do you like your job?  What is sitting in front of the computer and TV watching national and world news doing for your blood pressure?   Is it going to change Obama?  Is it going to help the economy?  Shut up and go take your kids to the park.

Your kids are always going to be there.  Your boyfriend may not be.  'Nuff said.

Just a few thoughts for you and reminders to myself.  We are only a few seconds on this big ol' time clock called Life.

Another 10 Things I Learned This Week

1. It’s totally okay to keep your mouth shut and opinions to yourself sometimes.  As fun as it can be to completely suck the joy out of someone and break their spirit, it’s not completely necessary, no matter how stupid you think they are.
2. If you buy a mouse a lookout tower that attaches to her cage, she will spend the entire night noisily dragging every piece of food she can find up the tube that leads to the lookout.
3. No matter how much money you spend fixing a Buick, it will never be satisfied.  Sometimes you just have to give up, hope for the best, and have your living-will updated just in case.
4. Ballet lessons really don’t cost $48 a month.  That’s just what they tell you so they can suck you in.  Next thing you know, you are out $500 in recital fees, picture days and costumes.
5. If someone is spying on your Facebook page, they pop up in your list of suggested friends.  Now every time I log onto Facebook, I have the delight of seeing a picture of my ex-boyfriend’s psychotic girlfriend.  Now she’s updated it to a picture of the two of them together, gazing dreamily at the camera in matching Steelers gear.  Barfo-licious.
6. 7 year olds are incredibly malicious.  Bitter divorcees and car salesman pale in comparison to 7 year olds.
7. A horse cough/fart combo can send a little boy in to a fit of hysterical laughter so hard that he has to be held up on his horse.  I do have to admit though, it was pretty spectacular.
8. There is a direct correlation between gas prices and my fuel light.
9. Tractor Supply’s 4 Health dry cat food smells worse than canned cat food.
10.  It is really hard to think of 10 things that you learned in a week.

Why it Sucks Being Shelby

AKA:  Why Shelby is Spoiled and Has Everything a Kid Could Want Except a Pony

1.        Instead of mommy saying “Yes Dear” like all the moms on Disney channel when I call for her, I have to repeat myself 50 times before she yells “WHAAAAT???” like the mommy on Family Guy.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNkp4QF3we8

2.       Every night I lay in bed to watch a movie while I fall asleep, and every night the dog sits down right in front of the TV so I can’t see it.

3.       I keep getting busted when I hide and put on mommy’s lipstick.  Every freakin’ time.  It’s like she has radar or something.  Same with her perfume.  What is a French lady of the night, anyway?

4.       Mommy’s boyfriend’s kid openly can’t stand me, and tells his daddy right in front of me how he and his mommy sit around and talk about how ridiculous I am.

5.       The day after Mother’s Day I got really upset that night because at school during circle time, all the kids talked about what they got their moms for Mother’s Day and how the daddies took them shopping to buy the presents.

6.       When mommy’s not crabbing around the house cleaning and complaining about what a mess it is, she’s got her nose in a John Sandford book.

7.       Mommy lets me get away with staying up late and then complains when I won’t get up in the morning.

8.       I have to go to daycare while my mom goes off and plays with horses all day.

9.       I have a strong suspicion that when my mom is home and I am not, a lot of my toys disappear.

10.   Every time I ask for something new, my mom says “Uh, two dogs, two mice, 3 fish and a dog…remember those?”

Pet Mice

Tonight we went to the pet store to get some stuff to clean out Shelby's fish tank.  It was so gross, she didn't even want to sleep in the same room with it.   It had a visit from the algae monster one night...it was clean for months, then all of the sudden it was full of green slime that I am pretty sure ate one of the guppies.  (Nope, never found it.)
So some genius parent decided to buy his daughter a pet mouse while I was there.  We all stood around and watched the little mice play in an excercise wheel, flinging eachother around, falling all over the place while the pet store boy told us all how wonderful "Fancy Mice" are and how they make great pets.  They are very social, the only bite if they are terrified, they are very easy to take care of.  It was a shining moment for dear old dad when he told his daughter she was going to be the proud new owner of a "Fancy Mouse".  She made a great show of picking out her mouse, and naming it after our dog Rosco, much to Shelby's delight.
Somewhere along the line, in all of Shelby's begging and my arguing, she misunderstood me and thought I said she could have one.  I told her no, I never said that, and the deep, heart wrenching, clinging to me because her heart was so broken sobbing began.  This was heartbreak unlike any I have ever seen, without an ounce of selfishness or attitude...it was pure grief.  A bystander actually covered her mouth and looked like she was going to cry as well.
So...their names are Gabriella and Taylor Swift.  They hung out in their little carry home box as I assembled their stupid cage.  When I went to get them out of their box, Taylor Swift looked up at me, and launched herself from the box onto my boob.  I think I got as far as saying "Oh shhhi" and she launched herself again, straight up into my face, made eye contact, and did a superman move and somehow ended up on my shoulder. 
I was in the kitchen fixing Shelby a hot dog thinking "This isn't so bad, the cats and dog have absolutely no interest in them, they are tiny, the cage is tiny, and they are supposedly friendly.  And hey, they were only $5 a piece."  Then I heard the most horrifying scream come from the living room.  I ran out there to find Gabriella running across the coffee table and Shelby crying hysterically with blood running down her hand.  Apparently she tried to pick the little jerk up and it bit her.  She must have been "terrified".  So at that point I didn't want to touch it, so I brushed it off the table like a big crumb onto a DVD case and scooped it back into it's cage, where it hid in it's little house for a while.  Meanwhile, I cleaned out the fishtank and relocated it to my bedroom...(because yeah, THAT really goes with my decor).
What the hell have I done?  I am doing this kid absolutely no favors by giving her everything she wants.  If she would have had a temper tantrum instead of doubling over in giant sobs, she wouldn't be laying in bed watching her mice beat the crap out of eachother jockeying for position on their (thankfully silent) exercise wheel.  But she has everything she has ever wanted times 10.  It's not going to fix the fact that her daddy died, and that is my issue, not hers.  I'm turning her into a hoarder.  An animal hoarder, toy hoarder, and God only knows what else.
So next time you feel the need to drop $400 taking your kid to the zoo, just bring them over to my house instead.  It's free, and if you want the full effect complete with the smell, I will let your child sniff the jacket I wear to the stable.