Well, the cat vomited up a hairball on my duvet cover this morning, so it was off to the laundromat instead of breakfast. I had to take the comforter too, as the stomach bile/saliva/cat juice had soaked through the cover. And it was more like a hair turd than a hair ball. It was mostly still dark this morning when I saw something I didn't recognize, so I put my hand on it, thinking, "What is this?"
Disgusting, that's what it is. The comforter is not yet dry, but I brought it home anyway and laid it out on my bed to dry. If the cat barfs on it again, I will feel quite perturbed. Have you noticed that when she's good, she's Solo or Mini, but when she has biological issues, she's the cat. I was telling Dad about how she barfed down the shelves and down the wall, and he asked why do I have a cat? Well, it's hard to explain, but there is a reason. Cat people know. I saw a picture online of a mug that said, "Everything tastes better with cat hair in it." I laughed and laughed, but I doubt that helps to explain it.
I'll be randomly looking through my friends' posts, and suddenly there they are. God, seeing their stupid faces smashed up together in his Facebook photo still makes me want to vomit. You all point out that it's her insecurity forcing its way into the picture. I think that's clearly true, but it still makes me physically ill.
Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe my heart isn't done cracking apart and this is finishing the job. Or maybe this is just sealing that room off. It hurts, which makes me question if our love was really that unbalanced or if he just buried his. You tell me it doesn't matter, but it just doesn't matter to you. I feel something different- that the love was and always will be true. It may be ruined, but it was true. That matters a lot to me. I don't understand how he was able to treat love that way, and that may be why it hurts so much, but I can only hope that he treats this idiot no better than he treated love. I have to trust that those two have their own karma to live with, and I have mine. Mistakes aside, when I look at what I put in, I have so much to be proud of- truly. If it wasn't appreciated or reciprocated, that is not on me. I have put in very good things, and now's the time for me to have a sad, lonely goodbye to all that so I have room for something better. But sad has to finish up first.
I don't want to be sad, and I don't want to hurt. I don't want to feel like throwing up. I have a hard enough time now; I wonder how I got through November. No, I do know how: with a visit from Mom and Thanksgiving with Dad. With nonstop daily talks and texts with Tracy. It was like being thrown in cold water- too cold to catch your breath. Everybody was there- family, friends, coworkers- even Chris's family- keeping me afloat until I could make it to the next buoy. What a shock.
And I hope I never see the ocean again
Pushin' and pullin' at me
As I go deeper and deeper in
Til I'm so far from my shore
So far from what I came here for
I let you surround me
I let you drown me
Out with your din
And then I learned how to swim
But I've got a beer, Roseanne episodes, and laundry to do. I'm all cried out for now and the apprentice class went well today. I have a better job to apply for and I went to Zumba last night. I'm making plans with new friends, and I will sleep well tonight.
HP8 down, series finished. What now? Am I still waiting for something? I am always waiting for something. Another month and I'll be able to type my blogs. Another month and I'll be done with the apprentice class. Another month and I'll be 35. Get up! Get going! What do you want!
A massage
An ipod
To go on a roller coaster
To write
To kick diet soda
To feel healthy and strong
To train my bangs to stop parting down the middle
To practice love and presence
To enjoy what I have
To figure out what's next- as I go for it
What choice is there but to charge?
This is Riley after a trip to the emergency vet to get a foxtail removed from her ear canal. She came to me about two hours ago, holding the right side of her head down and trying to shake something out. She yelped and bit the air near my hand every time I touched her ear. God, nothing will terrify your heart like a dog that cries when you touch her, but cowers in your lap, asking for help.
I put her down on her side and tried using a flashlight, but couldn't see. The dog first aid book was useless, so I googled. Vet, vet, vet, ear mites, vet, can't see down their L-shaped ear canal, vet. I called Dad to weigh it out: she didn't yelp when I had her on the floor, should I wait until tomorrow for my vet or go to the animal ER? I was thinking a bug, Dad said maybe a tick, and I grabbed my car keys. I'm glad I didn't wait, even if it was expensive. They said her ear was pretty tender and they put drops in to help, but she's still shaking her head. They said it will improve quickly. If I had waited, her ear would be an inflamed mess, and maybe get infected, and perhaps cost even more.
Riley was not at all happy to be at the vet. They took her to a back room to lay her on a table and check out her ear. The vet said she used very small forceps to get the foxtail, but Riley pooped while being held down during the procedure. Poor girl. They cleaned her up and she was quite relieved to see me. This vet was good, though, Dr. Lund. She was very kind and gentle with Riley, and Riley responded better to her than any other vet so far. I suppose she's got to be good to handle scared animals that are also wounded.
They didn't seem to act as if having a tick in there would be much worse, and Dad sent me an article about foxtails being "a serious hazard to dogs." We were at the river today, so the thought of a tick made sense. I never thought of a foxtail. How the hell would it get way in there like that?
But whew, all is resolved, and we are both relieved and exhausted.
Gone with the Wind... one of the very pillars of feminism, huh? Jesus. The four main female characters are a saint, a whore, a servant, and a selfish, immature, raving bitch.
It's easy to like Rhett, of course, because he's honest and charming, even if he is a complete scalawag. But oh- he tried, poor guy.
Entertainment Weekly rates this as the #10 greatest film ever. They say it was "long thought of as the ultimate 'women's picture.' But it's really Hollywood's most tragic romance."
I'll acknowledge that it is a disastrous relationship, but aren't you rooting for Rhett to leave this awful woman at the end? And god- they give us one last moment to think she's finally pulled her head out of her ass and realized that what's truly important is Tara. Yes, Tara! I'll go to Tara! Tomorrow is another day! I'll figure out how to get him back tomorrow!
Nope. No matter how many crises she endures, she never has a handkerchief or a clue. She manages through the worst things, yet never learns. The chance of Scarlett becoming a better person: THAT'S what's gone with the wind.
