Plus One

Our society has an issue. Well, several issues, but one that the Today Show and Real Simple yet again brought to my attention. Showing real plus-size women is just anathema in today's media. Which is just ridiculous, especially since Americans are getting bigger and bigger. See, the Today show had a segment on what jeans people should wear to flatter their body types. Real Simple provided the jeans and the models. Their plus-size model can't have been over a size 12. Probably closer to 10. That's not plus-sized. Same with most of the plus-size models out there. Yes, it's great that they have women modeling who are in the double digits of sizes. But if you're a ten, you are not representative of the women who actually are plus-sized. It's like the Lane Bryant models. They cannot be wearing the clothes Lane Bryant makes without those clothes being modified. So, really. What's the point? You have plus-sized store but then show all the women who shop there that they aren't really pretty enough or sexy enough to represent the store? And smaller sizes then become stigmatized as well. So now a size 10-12 is big? What then is normal? 4-6? 2-6? 0-6? That seems like a great trend. Rather than encourage people to be healthy, whatever their body type, let's encourage them to strive to be as tiny as possible. That won't make everyone miserable, I promise...

Sticks and Stones

Apparently, Tijuana police now have a new weapon against crime... slingshots. This article, for those of you interested, describes how the police in Tijuana, a place known for its crime problems, have had their guns taken away and replaced with slingshots. This seems an interesting tactic. Now I'm anti-violence and don't particularly like guns. But this still is a bit odd. Let's take people who are already in danger (13 policemen, 300 people total were killed last year in Tijuana) and give them stones to whirl at people.

Along this same line, the protestors from opposing sides in Lebanon have apparently started throwing rocks at each other. I know the situation in Lebanon is very sad and very serious. And these incidents also involved road blockages, and burning cars. But picture this. Two groups of angry people, seperated by barriers and police, throwing ROCKS at each other across the distance? It's mildly amusing.

Outside of interesting news stories, my life has been pretty slow. I'm finally doing yoga again, with the goal of being ridiculously flexible, and it's actually helped me to sleep. SB being gone has made me much more productive, although it's made going to the gym much harder. My apartment is cleaner, I've been cooking, I've knit some. I'm reading Lolita. I went to see Martha Grimes speak at B&N. He keeps trying to convince himself that Cassie misses him, but I'm not sure that she does. She is sleeping with me at night, which is very cute. She all stretches out against my legs and keeps me warm. Though I think she must be going through yet another mad growth spurt, since she is eating like mad. And getting much more vocal. She begs for EVERYTHING. I look at the kitchen, she runs to the fridge and begs me to open it (She likes to jump in. I'm not particularly fond of that desire...). She begs for and tries to get on the table to eat my food. She begs for me to rehang up her mouse so she can play with it. It's kind of funny, since her begging is more clucking and less of a meow. Sigh. Some blogs have been highly derogatory about cat ladies, but I will freely admit that I love cats. Not enough to clean up after like a zillion of them. But enough to admit that they make me happy.

It's like a car crash

I think blogger may be messing with my mind. I just went to a blog that I know I checked on Friday. Friday, there was no new post. Today, there is one dated last Wednesday. Sigh. I just don't know. Then there is the whole DC blog-war of which I only recently became aware and which I can't figure out, primarily (I think) because a lot of it went down at a blogger happy hour, and I can't find out who one of the main offenders is. Not that I really care that much (not actually knowing any of these people). But it's kind of like a soap opera. And a car crash. You know you shouldn't watch/slow down to look, but you can't seem to drag yourself away.

Sigh. I'm trying not to be mad at SB. Because while I know him being gone isn't entirely his fault, it still kind of is. He did agree to go first, before trying to back out. If he had never agreed in the first place, it would have been a different story. And I TOLD him I wouldn't do well with this whole thing. I told him in a few different ways. He, being foolish, thought, "well, since we'd talked about it, I figured it was all okay." Dumbass. So now my stomach is bothering me, no big surprise since this weekend wasn't exactly full of rainbows and unicorns. (Why unicorns? I don't know. They seem happy. And I watched Dodgeball like three times and there's the scene in Melody's-not her real name, but her name from pre-skankhood and Hey Dude days-apartment with all the unicorns.) I kept thinking, "I should call so-and-so, I haven't talked to her in over a year" but then I would decide that I didn't really want to talk to people. And SB, who promised to text a lot, only sent one text. And there are no emails or phone calls from him on the weekend. So now I'm trying not to be vindictive and refuse to call him tonight.

If I don't call him tonight, though, there will be good reasons. To stave off my thoughts, I'm going to go to a Martha Grimes thing at the B&N near me. Ms Grimes is coming to speak and sign and, while I'm not a huge fan, I did highly enjoy the one book by her that I've read. And she's moderately famous, particularly in the mystery genre (not one I usually frequent, but whatever), and it'll get me out. Plus today's my mom's birthday, so of course I must call and chat. It's all about hte distraction, people.

See, I've decided my whole problem is that I'm too smart. I get bored and need something to think about. So I start analyzing myself. "Picking," as SB would call it, a term I usually find inaccurate unless I actually am trying to make myself cry or something. It's not good to spend hours analyzing yourself. It can make one a bit neurotic. How to avoid it, though, is something I'm still struggling with. I could write it out, yes, but that forces me to come face-to-face with everything in writing. I could read, but at such times, it can be hard to settle my brain down. I can watch tv, but I wind up not really paying attention. It's a dilemma, yes, and un cercle visceaux, one which is best stopped by avoiding it in the first place by doing something. So that is the plan. And if I happen to not have enough time to call SB, well too bad for him. That's what he gets for leaving.

Repressed dreams

I really had the best intentions of updating yesterday. Sadly for the great numbers of you who read this (and by great, I mean like 5), blogger was being a complete and utter pain and I was unable to. That and I was too lazy and tired later on to get back online at home on my stolen internet.

I had a dream a couple of nights about an old crush of mine. It was very bittersweet, a dream in which I knew that the crush and I could have had a good relationship, but I was with SB and I wasn't about to give up what I have with him. I of course told SB about it, since I tend to tell him most things, especially little things that might make him jealous. He, of course, was not thrilled about it. And to be perfectly honest, neither was I. Not because the dream "told" me anything in particular, but because I couldn't understand why this guy would keep resurfacing from my subconcious.

Bit of background info: This guy and I had a pretty decent flirtation going for several months. He, however, never actually asked me out, and I, for a number of personal and psychological reasons, refused to ask him out. Then I met SB, with whom things moved rather quickly, and that was that. Crush later started dating someone else, a girl of whom I was not fond. I always wondered why he could ask her out, but not me.

So, while thinking about my dream the other night, I had an epiphany. See, before SB, I never really dated much. I've been told that I can be intimidating to guys, which both bothers and frustrates me. I mean, really. Give me a break. Yes I am strong and intelligent and like to debate and I definitely don't wear my heart on my sleeve. But I am also funny and sweet and shy and fiercely loyal, some of which comes out after like five minutes of talking to me, and if a guy is so easily intimidated and can't see beyond that, then we probably wouldn't have a great relationship anyways. Knowing that in my head, though, doesn't mean that the lack of dates was not hard on me. As soon as I got upset or depressed or lonely, I started blaming myself, wondering why I wasn't worth the risk of rejection. SB has done his best to rid me of these types of thoughts, but they don't disappear that easily, much to his chagrin. So I think my former crush has come to represent all of those negative feelings and experiences. I don't want to be with anyone but SB, but I want other people to want to be with me.

Fashionistas

I think it's interesting that, for someone who so rarely looks polished and who so rarely looks fashionable, I have a highly developed sense of style. Now that might sound both strange and snotty. It's true, though. I know what I like, I know why I like it, and I can spot what's wrong with an outfit in under a minute. I blame/thank my mother, as a seamstress, and my college roommate for this ability. My college roommate used to challenge me. "What's wrong with that person's outfit?" she'd ask. "They're wearing two different types of plaid, one which is navy-based and the other which is black," I would quickly respond. (Not that anyone couldn't do this. I mean, really. Multiple plaids? How could you miss that?) My mom's teaching was more subtle and less purposeful. Mainly, if I wanted clothes that I liked, I had to learn what I liked and didn't like about how things fit. I blame my current lack of apparent fashion on this. Everything I try on, I think, "Wow. This would look great if the waist was half an inch higher." Or, "Man. This looks like crap. Look at how badly it fits me around the neck. If I'm paying x-amount of dollars for something, I want something that fits me correctly." So in despair, I wear whatever and aim for comfort rather than fashion. And I may or may not still be sabotaging myself. Whatever.

All this fashion-judgment came out with the Golden Globes. There were so few dresses that I didn't think, "Well, if this had been changed, it would be great." Jennifer Lopez's was one of those few. Man, she looked hot. But most... Well, they left something to be desired. And why is it that all strapless dresses look like they are about to fall off? If they were pulled up just one or two more inches, they'd look great. But NO. We have to show as much cleavage as possible, so we double-tape the dresses on and hope for the best. It's nearly as bad as the current "tuck your pants into your boots" craze, only beaten by the coulotte pants and knee-highs. I mean, really. What is the purpose? No one looks good in that combo. It makes you look like your legs are funny lengths. Give it up, people. Accept that the designers are crazy, stop buying so much into fads for the sake of fads, and buy clothes that actually look good on you. Now, if only I could find some that I can afford...

Apologies

Dear guy I may have glared at with hatred on the metro yesterday:

I'm sorry. I don't actually hate you. I know it was just extremely crowded and your hand accidentally got caught in the cord of my headphones. But I just felt someone pulling on my ipod and on my headphones and when the pressure released, although the music kept going, I wondered if maybe my ipod had been pulled out of my pocket and I was going to have to fight the masses in order to bend down and pick it up. Plus I was trying to get out of the way and there was just chaos. But I didn't really hate you, I was more annoyed with the whole situation. And the way you offered your hand to balance me was very sweet.

Sincerely,

Me

For all others, obviously my commute home was not great. I managed to cram onto the first train that pulled up, but then got pushed out at a subsequent stop, which is SO not kosher. Didn't really matter, though, since there was no way I could have made the bus I was trying to catch. Which then meant I would have a really hard time making choir, since I walked in the door at 7 and would have had to feed myself and get out the door by 7:30. Plus SB was going to try and call me and I knew he'd forget that I had choir and I didn't want to miss him. Though his phone didn't work and I wound up having to call him. So I stayed home and watched tv instead. And played with Cassie, which she enjoyed. I enjoy that, since my apartment is now colder, she has started sleeping with me more. She's very warm.

I'm a Big, Fat Liar

I said I was looking forward to him leaving, at least a little bit. I was such a liar. Well, that's not entirely true. I wasn't lying about getting to do all of that stuff. CW and I were commenting that having a significant other enables laziness. You don't really have to work to be around people because you're already around people. There is no need for effort-full socialization; just lie back and be lazy.

Anyways, I do miss SB. He was pretty sweet this weekend, although CW said at least some of it was too sweet. He just got all puppy-eyed on me. See, he had taken FIVE hours to run errands. It's not even like he had a lot of errands. He had to get his hair cut, pay his credit card, and run by his house to pick up the stuff he needed to pack. So he dropped me off at 5. I start playing "The Sims: Open for Business" (which is SOOOOOO fun, btw. I've started an at-home business, which is doing fairly well, although my employees keeping getting mad and quitting). At 8:30, he calls and says he thinks he's about done, so if I want to go ahead and order a pizza, that would probably be a good idea. Knowing him, I wait a bit (until 9) and then order a pizza. I wait for the pizza. The pizza comes. I wash a plate so I'll have a plate to eat off of. I get ready to eat. Finally, about 10, he shows up. He says he was working hard that whole time, and I believe him. I also think I could have been done with the same errands and more in maybe two hours. So I'm a bit peeved, just because the whole fact that he seems to run in his own time zone can be a bit annoying and because I had pictured a rather cuter last night together involving cuddling and drinking wine and being all couple-y. He comes and sits down next to me and is all, "I missed you..." I, refusing to be sweet or sappy, said, "It'll be good practice for the next six weeks." He then, puppy-eyes at the ready, turned to me and said, "I have had entirely too much practice missing you." All together now, "Aww..."

But yes. So he's gone for the next four weeks, back for less than one, and then gone for yet another, and I'm not happy about it.

Somethign else I'm not happy about (in a COMPLETELY random change of topic) is a study that just came out showing that the health benefits of drinking tea are negated by adding milk. Yes, that's right. Drinking tea is good, drinking milk is good, but somehow, put the two together, and it ALL gets cancelled out. Bastards. I like milk in my tea. It's a lovely addition. Maybe I'll just add more wine to get more antioxidants.

A State of Unproductivity

I really have had a thoroughly unproductive day. I had plans to be productive, really, I did. But then I got in to work and half the office wasn't here and I had a bad commute and it's rainy and my brain just melted away. Plus I didn't sleep well last night. In fact, I haven't slept well for the past three nights. I'm fairly tired, I must say. And then last night, I drug my sorry ass to the gym (which was WAY too difficult, btw, and involved another horrific commute) and then promptly developed a sickening headache after dinner. THEN I got home to no note from my apartment building, so I didn't know whether they were definitely cancelling the replacement of my windows (supposed to happen today) due to rain, so I still had to move all my furniture three feet away from said window. That might not seem like a huge deal to those of you in multi-room places, but I live in a studio. A studio, I might add, that is completely packed with furniture. Then the leg of my dresser broke, so SB and I had to take all the drawers out of it, even though several of the drawers seemed desperate to be stuck. Remember the throbbing headache, people.

It was at this point that I may or may not have yelled out, "I hate my life!" When SB asked why, I answered that "EVERYTHING IS ALL FUCKED UP." He then told me I should sit down and he could do it all for me. Which was sweet, but not feasible, as I had a plan in my mind for where the furniture would be most out of the way. I then started a mad rampage about hating 30 Rock. And I don't really hate it. I don't like it. It annoys me that everyone acts like it is such a great show, when the whole premise of it irritates me. But hate it? I mean, actively hate enough for a mad rampage? I don't think so.

Then, when I did attempt to sleep, eye pillow strapped around my head, I couldn't. Cassie kept jumping on and off the bed, I couldn't get comfortable, and my head still hurt. Cassie decided that running around madly at 4 am would be LOADS of fun, particularly the part where she jumps on paper bags to make lots of noise. I had to get up early to ensure that I was dressed by the time the hypothetical window people showed up to take down my blinds. Luckily they didn't, since the building claims that if they take down the blinds on a Friday, the blinds will not be put back up until the following Monday. And again, to those multi-roomed of you, this is a big deal when you have no other room to escape into. I would have to retreat into my bathroom for EVERYTHING, including putting on sweatpants and pj's. My apartment is high enough that random street people couldn't see me; there are, however, many balconies around me and at least one of them belongs to a family with a small child who is prone to wandering out (supervised) in order to enjoy being outside.

So, needless to say, I arrived to work today exhausted and with coffee in hand. The coffee, while enjoyable, only managed to keep me awake. Productivity had long since flown the coup... Oh well, though. I guess there is always Monday...

Pluses and Minuses

In the past 24 hours, I have eaten entirely too much. I have also, however, had enough water to drink for the first time in months. I am shamed by the food, redeemed by the water. I think I'll declare it a wash.

So the days until SB leaves are becomign fewer and fewer. Stupid boy. The sad thing is, a part of me is looking forward to it. Not really, but kind of. I'll miss him, yes, but I'll also have so much more time. I can read again. The idea! Reading!! I can go to bed at 10:30 if I'm tired, I can knit my lovely shawl. I mean, really. This shawl is going to be gorgeous. I can play the Sims 2 for hours (I think SB might be getting me "Open for Business" as well, as I've decided I must have it and would be willing to not eat a meal or two in order to afford it), and not feel guilty. I can watch hours of tv and not care about whether or not he likes the show. I can do yoga and try out the belly dancing video on OnDemand.

I'm not saying it won't be hard and I won't be sad. But I haven't had to be independent since I graduated from college. Which is a little strange, I know, but hey. Of course, I also won't really be able to eat, and that's no fun. But oh well. I'm sure I'll make it.

I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy....... [where?]

Well, after nearly two lovely weeks off, I have returned again to the belly of the beast. Okay, that may be a BIT extreme, but whatever. I thought on the way in this morning that I was actually kind of glad to be returning to my usual routine, but now not so much.

I was listening to my old Christian music cd's. And I know that everyone, my mother included, thinks that Christian music automatically equals sappy crap, but some of it is actually good music. And I'm tired of feeling like I have to defend my faith. Which I know is me, but it's also the radical right-wings with whom I don't want to be affiliated. So when I mention CSF, I'm always like, "It wasn't one of those kind of groups." But thinking about it, I don't even know what "those" kind of groups would be or how any Christian group I've been involved in wouldn't be one. Because really, every Christian group I tested out, even if I ultimately didn't go there, was pretty darn nice and welcoming. Why is there such a stigma? Even the groups where I disagreed with 90% of what they believed went out of their way to make me feel welcome. This isn't to say that these groups don't have the problems lots of groups have. CSF was notoriously clique-y. The houses got into HUGE spats. People were judgemental. But if you really needed help and let them know, they'd do a lot to be there for you. So yes. I'm going try and stop saying Christian groups are not "that type of group." And I'm going to stop feeling like I have to say, "Oh, I'm not THAT kind of Christian." People who know me should know that I'm not a crazy right-winger, and the ones who dismiss me that easily for my faith are probably not people I want to know anyways. And I've been realizing more and more how important that faith is to me, and I want to have joy (not necessarily happiness, but joy), and thinking that all this will work out for something good is all that is keeping me from going nuts at work, so...

CW just told me that Austin Grill is participating in Restaurant Week. What?! Who is going Austin Grill (or Hard Rock Cafe) for RW? Seriously, people. Spend your money better.

Back to DC.

Well, I'm back in DC. I didn't really want to go. I never do. My mom has declared that I need to come home for long enough to want to leave. I was glad to get back to Cassie and SB. SB was jealous because he stopped in to check on Cassie yesterday and she hissed at him and then didn't care that he was there. Then, when I got home, she ran over to me, and then got so excited, she ran around the apartment. It was pretty cute. She now is sleeping by my feet.

The whole Christmas time was fun, but insanely busy. I did get to see a plethora of high school friends. It was so bizarre. We all went to eat after picking up my brother and sil and ran into my dad's old partner's daughter. I went to elementary school with her, and then didn't really see her again except at her dad's funeral (he died from complications with a bone marrow transplant) in high school. Then I ran into another girl I hadn't seen since elementary school at the movie theater. Then, of course, there were the people I made an effort to see. There are really only three of them, two who are sisters, which isn't a huge number of people. But then there is Haley, WHO GOT ENGAGED FOR CHRISTMAS!!! I am so incredibly happy for her. She had a little party that I tagged along to, where I met her fiance (so strange to say) and got to see Jules, whom I haven't seen since hte summer after I graduated from college, and Molly (same), and caught up on news of others I haven't seen in forever. Oh, and Haley's going to be supporting herself and totally rocks, so go buy her cd. It was a little strange being there at the party. These people all stayed close to home for college, so they stayed in touch. So they're all like, remember that time a week ago, and I'm all like, remember in seventh grade... And I forget that people who stay around my hometown tend to have a different worldview. I love them and they are some of the most genuinely nice people I have met. But it's so incredibly different than people around DC. One of my friends was talking about this girl's jerky boyfriend and how he's had sex with other girls. This part was whispered, like sex was a bad word or something. It was funny. And a little confusing. I was never sure if he was cheating on her because she wouldn't sleep with him, which would be horrible and ridiculous, or if he had just had sex before in her life.

A and D, the sisters, are funny and doing well, as always, though A doesn't like her job, so we commiserated together. Even though she makes like two-and-a-half times what I do... D has a child in her class who claims (and his mom agrees) that he's possessed by the devil. He, obviously, is a bit of a handful and making her second year of teaching not so great.

Sigh. I was just looking at Haley's myspace. I'm so happy for her. I can't wait for the wedding, which will be LOADS of fun. And her ring is HUGE. Her fiance freaking found the diamond for it on the sidewalk when he was six. How crazy is that? Where is my diamond on the street?!

Merry Christmas/ Happy Holidays!!!

Well, I realize I've been a bad blogger and not updated for nearly 10 days. It's hard running a blog, a social life, an office, and a grad school application process. And then getting sick. Twice. Luckily, I am now done with the grad school applications! (YAY!!!!) Except for mailing in one hard copy that is waiting on getting my last recommendation in the mail. And I'm basically well, though I felt AWFUL on Thursday. Luckily, I made it home and probably infected everyone on both my planes, but what else is Christmas about?

Last weekend was my sister-in-law's brother's wedding. He lives around DC and they are the nicest family ever, so SB and I were invited to everything. It was just lovely. The wedding was beautiful, even if the music was a little hokey. But the hokey music was done by long-time family friends of the bride, so it was all good. The reception was GORGEOUS. Thousands of twinkle lights everywhere, very classy centerpieces. The only bad part about the whole thing was the catering service was not good. At one point, the brother of the bride was going around to the tables and picking up dirty dishes... Not good. The other, me-related issue was all underwear related. I had on one of those bra/slip/stomach-suck-iny things and it either peeked through the neck of my dress, or slid down until stuff was poking out the top and I had those horrible strapless bra lines. The groom's aunt totally saw me trying to heave it up, but oh well. I think it entertained her.

And I got to hang out some with Erik, who is an English PhD student, so that was fun, and Jonathan, my brother's giant college roommate who is now dating a girl still in undergrad. The girlfriend was also nice, just very young... And, as promised, there was ethnic dancing. It was all just fun.

Now I am home. My brother and SIL are here, too, and my grandma gets here today and my grandparents here tomorrow. My mom is on complete overkill mode and we have to bake everything today. The only dark spots are that I miss my cat... and that I found out that SB is indeed going to have to go abroad for a month, leaving less than a week after we get back from the holidays. He tried to get out of it for a number of reasons, but it looks like they really want him to go. Poop. But we shall not think about that. Instead, we shall concentrate on Christmas and family and not having to be back at work for over a week!

Since I probably won't have time to write tomorrow, merry Christmas, everyone!!

Yes, Virginia...

So I've decided I'm going to believe in Santa again. I remember believing in Santa. I remember how magical everything was. I remember sitting up Christmas Eve, straining to hear hooves on the roof. I remember being SO excited I could hardly sleep. And I'm going back to that model.

Some of you may be asking yourselves, "How is she going to go back to a previous period in her life?" Well, I realize that I can't become a child again. I can act like a child, though. And I know that I can't unlearn knowledge. But I can forget about it if I want to. And I feel my life could use a little magic right now. (I got the maximum raise my boss's structure will allow!!! Which is miniscule and I got that raise because she pities my small salary and I still make a tiny amount and can't afford food or clothing and can't rent an apartment without my parents or put any money into savings for grad school...) So magic is good.

What else is good? The hot cider at Gadsby's Tavern is AMAZING. I liked it with rum. The carolers there during the holidays, also very nice. Walking down King Street when the lights are up and there is a nice crisp feel to the air? Very holiday-y. Finding the PERFECT present for my mom was great. Being knocked on my ass for the past five days and sleeping basically the whole day before doing any of those things was not so great. In fact, I can say that being sick at the holidays definitely sucks. Luckily, after missing two days of work and sleeping INSANE numbers of hours, I am getting well.

Also, Cassie is no longer Coney (she doesn't have to wear her cone anymore. SB called her Coney while she did), and she seems very glad of that fact. Now I just have to figure out what to do with her over the holidays...

Prudes beware

I do not feel well at all. CW has already left. She heard someone else on our floor throwing up in the bathroow. I think there may be something going around. And the worst part is that today is horribly cold. Well, not horribly, but when you've had no period of acclimation and have had the ambient temperature drop 40 degrees in one week, it seems freezing. Plus the wind whips over the water near my office and makes it feel much worse than it is. When you add to all that illness... AND SB, whom I'm mad at anyways, can't even pick me up from the metro, meaning I get to add a climb up a steep hill to all my time in the outdoors. And my rib hurts. Just the one on my right, but it's an occasional throbbing and I don't enjoy it. I will, however, survive.

Luckily, I can space for the few remaining minutes of the day and sign our Holiday cards. Because New Guy, who we don't like much, decided we should personally sign all the cards we send out. Nevermind that last year we didn't even send any out. And since he picked out dark cards, we had to buy silver pens to use. He made me call the paper store near him and ask if they had them. What decent paper store doesn't have silver pens? I mean, come on... The people at the paper store laughed at me for even calling and asking.

Plus on [redacted] (the new Daily Dump blog), there is a guest poster who complained because one of his exes wanted him to go down on her so much. I realize this is a sensitive topic for some. But the whole thing frustrates me, mainly because I'm SURE this guy and several other blog-guys I know would throw a hissyfit if their girlfriend/random girl they picked up at a bar/on a corner wouldn't go down on them. I mean, really. If you listen to these guys, they talk about how giving head is "cleaner," somehow "more sanitary." Um... why? If you think about it, the same kinds of issues are going on in each region. We all pee down there, people! (Pee, by the way, is an antiseptic.) I think the real reason is that guys are selfish and squeamish. Well, I say no more of it! Tit for tat, everyone!! I'm calling on all girls who are involved in such activities to demand equality in such arenas. Stop being prudish! And men, suck it up. Both literally and figuratively.

Cone Kitty

My roses are opening very nicely. I'm going to take them home tomorrow so I can enjoy them over the weekend.

I made the mistake of looking to see whether or not I can safely take Cassie's cone off early. I can't let her run around freely because I'm worried she'll get stuck somewhere with it (she's already nearly gotten stuck under the bed and actually got stuck on the window ledge). So she's crazy every night and morning when I free her from the closet. Plus she can't groom properly (she tries, but just winds up grooming the cone as if it were her) and I can only do so much. I'd really like to take it off her, at least for a bit. BUT I googled to try and find out if cats actually will try to tear out their stitches, especially this far in the healing process, and I came across the most horrible story that makes me want to run home and make sure she's okay and cuddle her. This family adopted a cat and had her spayed. She tore out her stitches (this seems to be the only real example I've found of a cat tearing them out), so they put her in a cone. I don't really think the cone has anything to do with the rest of it, but the writer mentioned it as if it had something to do with it. One night, their beloved kitty starts crying and meowing like mad. Later the kitten's intestines explode out somehow and the poor thing had to be put to sleep. I know this has to be extremely rare and I know that Cassie's fine, but still. And EWWW...

Beyond the massive wildness and the dealing with the cone, Cassie seems to have adjusted quite well to her changed state. She's actually even friendlier than she was before. We did have another incident with her bed. I made the mistake of giving it back to her and she then had an accident on the floor. So I threw it out. No bed for you!

Four years and counting

Four years. Today is my and SB's four year anniversary. He already sent me lovely roses at work, which seemed to strangely surprise my boss. We have no big plans for tonight, but this weekend, we're going to Gadsby's. They're having carolers during the holiday on Friday and Saturday nights. It shall be tres cute.

It's weird thinking that it's been four years. Not just because it means SB and I have been together FOREVER (Who would have thought that I'd date someone four years and still not be married or engaged or planning to do either in the near future?), but because that semester doesn't seem like that long ago. I was in college, living in Collins with all my friends around me. That was the year that everyone lived in college. We had the Michelles in a room, Emily not too far, Whitney down the hall. I was still friends with Peggy and Clare. This would be the time of year for the Dicken's dinner, although junior year was the year the dinner kept being postponed until it was a weak copy of what it should have been. I was so happy then.

And now it's been four years. Poor SB has seen me go through SO much crap, enough that it really has screwed up my health. I lived in England for a while (I missed that year's Dicken's dinner, but exchanged it for a Christmas dinner in Hall where we all stood on our chairs and sang "Teddy Bears' Picnic"), finished school, graduated, tried to find my identity outside of being a student, moved home, moved away from home, got a job, hated my job, got another job, hated that job, too. And I am slowly learning to be happy anyways, even in circumstances that I hate. It's like we talked about in CSF once or twice (during the "fruit of the Spirit" session), joy is not dependent upon happiness. It's good that I'm learning this, because SB tends to feel that he SHOULD be able to make me happy, no matter what else is going on.

He has been with me through all of that and he is so sweet and tries so hard. And really. What more could you ask?

Poor kitty

Well my little kitty can have kittens no longer. She came through surgery and was up trying to play last night. It is pretty pathetic, though. They're making her wear one of those cones on her head. Not only does she have to wear it, she has to wear it for a whole TEN days. She keeps hitting it on stuff and then it scares her. This morning, I let her out of the closet for a bit. She hit it on my suitcase and then literally hopped across the room. She made it in only a few bounds, too. It would have been impressive/funny if I weren't worried about the state of her stitches. And she walks funny because it's there.

CW and I have been looking for engagement rings. Not because either of us want to get engaged, but because we want the rings.

Beyond turkey

It's funny how even my body doesn't want me to go to work. Yesterday, I had a slight fever and now my stomach's being all funny. Sigh. More reasons to leave. As if I needed any.

The whole time at home was lovely. My parents are entertaining. I read two books and finished a hat, which my mom then took pictures of to show her knitting club. It was rather nice, if I do say so myself. I did a lace pattern at the bottom and the yarn itself was so pretty. And my mom bought be really nice yarn (100% silk) for the next project, which is a shawl. I'm moving on to bigger things! My dad was funny, too. Insisted on buying a really expensive tree because he wanted me to be there to pick it out. See, Thursday we went to our usual tree farm. It's about a 30-minute drive, a place where you can cut the trees yourself, though we don't because they actually ship in the ones we like (Frasier firs). But, SADNESS of SADNESS. The tree place is closing!! Not only will they not be there next year, but they didn't even ship in our trees this year! So they only had little puny ones. It was depressing. So my dad had to work on Friday and I was leaving on Saturday, but we stopped at one nursery before I left and found a big, beautiful tree. The only thing? It was $100 MORE than the ones we got from the old place. A little bigger, a little fresher yes. But $100 more?! My parents were aghast, but I had to leave for DC and my dad wanted me to pick out the tree, so... We now own a hugely expensive tree.

I also got to see my glorious friends from high school and found out a highly entertaining story about one of our classmates (she's apparently pretending she was 'most popular' and a cheerleader when she was in high school, while currently coaching cheerleading and trying to get underage boys to let her wear their jerseys).

The only-not-so-fun thing was coming back to a crazy Cassie who may be going into heat and who is supposed to get spayed on Wednesday...

Happy Thanksgiving

The one bad thing about owning a cat is that now I'm conflicted about going home. See, I love being home. My parents are entertaining, the house is so soothing it's practically a vacation home, there are no street noises, no outside lights. Only peace and a lake and trees. But now, I miss Cassie. She's just so cute and adorable and I hate having to leave her by herself. I am going to be the most protective parent ever. And the night before I left, she slept all curled up in my arm. And then she got all frantic when I was leaving, like she knew I was going to be gone for a while.

My parents' cats, though? OMG, I think Felix is the biggest cat I have ever seen. He is HUGE! Which he was last time I was home. He weighed 21 pounds in June and he has gained weight. So he's long, muscular, and has a big belly. I keep making fun of him. Because, let's face it, a cat waddling is just entertaining. Particularly a waddling cat who keeps trying to run or jump.

SB is visiting Catholic couple who is, unsurpisingly but unwisely, now pregnant. I seriously question the wisdom of this, but I guess when you don't believe in birth control... See, the problem is Catholic husband is a vet who recently quit his practice to start his own. So he is currently out of work and trying ot start a business. She's a school teacher, so she'll at least have good health insurance, but not a large salary. It's just not a situation I'd like to be in.

Anyways, I'm off to finish my hat. I have to finish it so I can start on my new project that my mom bought me to day! Yay for knitting!!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

So I've about had it with this community's/city's/country's obsession with size. I've read a few too many blogger entries with lines such as, "ew... she's such a cow," and "what a bloated whale carcus" (last one's word for word). Yet a woman in Brazil DIES from being too skinny, and I don't think anyone would have made fun of the way she looks. In fact, I was frightened by the fact that I didn't think she looked that bad in the pictures I saw of her. Her BMI was 13, she weighed as much as a 12-year-old girl should, but societally? Looked normal. You know what, DC? I would rather be overweight than starving myself to fit your stupid, superficial ideas of what a woman should look like. Grow up and expand your mind like a centimeter...