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Our Halloween plans (see freak parade, below) didn’t happen because Dave and I both got sick. I have a full-on sinus infection (whee! Thank the baby Jesus for Puffs plus with lotion so my poor widdle nose doesn’t shrivel up and fall off), and I’m not sure what’s up with Dave, but I think he’s caught it from me. Right now he’s just complaining about feeling sort of headache-y and fuzzy. If what I currently have is any indication of what he’s in for, let me just say now: sweetie, I am so sorry. Love, your germy wife.

In other news, this morning I had to delete something like 20 spam comments that had been left on old posts, and they all came from the past 2 days. Very weird. So in light of that, I decided it was time to check up on my web stats. Which means it’s time for another round of, “what search terms are bringing people to this website?”

And now, back to our regularly scheduled sniffling and whining.

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I had lunch today with Janet, the wife of one of Dave’s co-workers (Gabe). It’s funny, we’ve hung out with them on several occasions, and I like them a lot, but it’s always been couples activities. Janet and I have never done anything that was just the two of us. We’ve had dinner at each other’s houses, we went out with them for Janet’s birthday, they came to our wedding, etc., but the husbands were always there too. So today was good because it was interesting just to sit and talk for a couple of hours, to learn a lot more about her, and to relate to someone who’s kind of in the same general life situation as I am. I think I may finally have a normal female friend here in the Northwest (as opposed to Psycho Krissy, who I don’t even talk to anymore because I can’t take the drama), and that’s a very good thing.

And thanks to Gabe & Janet, we now have plans for Halloween - there’s a funky/hippie neighborhood north of downtown Seattle where there will be a “freak parade” at midnight on Saturday night, and we’re all going. So that should be interesting. I volunteered to be designated driver, because I’m nice like that. Also because I seem to have lost the taste for alcohol over the past couple of months, I just haven’t wanted it much at all. Kind of weird, but not that unusual for me. Anyway, that is bound to be interesting.

In slightly ickier news, the other night I noticed two of our cats (Cleo & Greta) circling one of the chairs in the living room, very interested in something underneath it. Knowing it couldn’t be good, I shooed the cats away and scooted the chair over. Underneath it was a teeny-tiny baby mouse. Now, I know that my mother says that baby mice grow up into big mice, and that I should’ve just let the cats have at it and be done with it, but I’m not that cold-hearted. So I called Dave, and we got a big tupperware thing and tried to trap him under it, so I could set him loose outside. Only as soon as I lowered the tupperware, his terror-paralysis suddenly came to an end and he decided to bolt. I ended up pinning him to the floor with the edge of the container. I tried to pick him up (since I had him trapped), and he bit me. He didn’t break the skin, but it hurt, and I still had a minor freak-out about germs and rabies and whatnot. As soon as I dropped him, he took off. After I finished scrubbing my hands with large amounts of anti-bacterial soap, we found him halfway up the living room curtains (he had scaled them like a cat). So Dave used the tupperware lid to shoo him off the curtains and knock him into the container, and I ran him way out into the far part of the yard to set him loose. And as I dropped him off, I told him to have a long, happy life, and to please never come back into my house. I hope he understood me.

Oh, and more cat news: you know the stray orange kitty who comes around our house to eat our cat food but technically isn’t ours? He used to be friendly with all of our cats, but it seems that all of a sudden, our female cats are scared of him - they run from him, and won’t go outside if they see him out there. Beaumont (our one boy cat) is still buddies with him. I know the orange kitty (and yes, that’s the best nickname I’ve got for him so far - if I give him a name, then he’s sort of ours, and so help me God, we do NOT need a fifth cat) is a male because he’s pretty well “equipped”. That’s the other reason why I’m not crazy about him coming in the house - I’ve seen him spraying trees in the yard, and I really don’t want him to do that to my couch. Anyway, I haven’t got actual proof (just a couple of loud fights in the yard where I witnessed shrubs shaking but didn’t see anything), but I suspect that the reason the girl kitties are scared of him all of a sudden is because he’s trying to mount them. And our girls were fixed when they were babies, so they probably have no idea what the hell he’s doing, or they think he’s attacking them. I told Dave, “I’m not sure if it’s a full-on kitty rape situation, or if it’s just some unsolicited humping.” We later decided that Unsolicited Humping would be a great band name. Or even better, as a sign to hang outside of one’s business. Anyway, since he seems to like coming around our house regularly, I don’t know what to do about that, short of trapping the orange kitty and taking him to get snipped, or getting the girls some kitty self-defense lessons. (Meow means meow!) Any ideas? I’m sort of at a loss here.

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Either this is a sign that I have completely lost my mind, or it means that unemployment may have gotten to me: I have now left the house, multiple times, without eye make-up. That’s right. I have done nothing more than slap on some powder and a little lip balm before setting foot out my front door, no mascara or eyeliner or anything. I haven’t been doing my hair either, I’ve just been sticking it in a ponytail or a clip and calling it good. What the hell is wrong with me? This is not me, I’m a southern girl who was raised in a good home, and the “au naturel” look is not who I am. I haven’t left the house without make-up since I was 13 years old.* This has now happened three times, when I was going to such glamorous locales as the supermarket, the video store, and our local teriyaki place (mmm… take-out). So I suppose it’s not a sign of my impending senility yet, since I do still make an effort for things like dinner with friends, or job interviews. Maybe, in a way, it’s a positive thing because it means that I’m less self-conscious about my looks. And I haven’t felt “naked” without my make-up, like I expected I would. So it might not be that terrible.

But also? Lately I’ve only been washing my hair every other day instead of every day. Help me Jesus, I fear I have lost it.

* Ok, that’s not actually true. When I was in college, I caught pink eye from some little brat that I baby-sat for, and I couldn’t wear eye make-up for a week while I took antibiotics. Also, when I lived in Wisconsin, a couple of times I made late-night supermarket runs with no make-up, because hello, it was Wisconsin. Even with no make-up, I’m still pretty hot by their standards. **

** I do have friends from Wisconsin who are absolutely beautiful. The buck-toothed, stringy-haired midwestern girl is a very negative stereotype and I apologize if I offended any potential readers from those states. Unless, you know, you are a buck-toothed, stringy-haired midwestern girl. In which case, go get yourself some good salon-quality shampoo and a decent makeover, and I’m sure you’ll be fine.

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I learned on Saturday that I married a liar. Dave and I went for a hike at a nature preserve near our house, and he told me that the trail was about 3 miles long. Now, I know that 3 miles may not seem like much to some of you (like my cousin Miss Triathlon), but I am a wuss, and an out-of-shape wuss at that. So three miles in hilly, rough terrain with my bad knee (and dodging enormous piles o’ poop the whole time, because apparently this is also a trail where a lot of people go horseback riding) seemed like a lot. But it’s been a while since I’ve worked out, so I knew that I needed it, and it seemed do-able. I found out over halfway through it that Dave was full of crap, and the trail was actually FIVE miles long. I don’t know that I’ve ever hiked 5 miles in my life. I wasn’t prepared for that kind of distance, I didn’t even bring a bottle of water with me. And lord, the pain I was in afterward. I couldn’t walk up and down the stairs of our house without making little whiny “ow” noises. I’m proud of myself now for having survived, but I doubt I’ll be doing that again anytime soon.

In “this is another reason why I don’t like living in the boonies” news, our local weekly newspaper had a cover story this week about the fact that there have been several cougar sightings in our area recently. Holy sh*t. One anecdote:

On September 17, also near Duvall, a woman reported she was out working in her flowerbeds hwen six deer came into the yard. A cougar ran right past her chasing them.

The article has a reference to a website that tells you what to do in case you encounter a cougar. Do you know what to do if you see a cougar? Me neither. But I do now. Here’s a partial list of action items, complete with my commentary in italics:

* Stop, stand tall and don’t run. Pick up small children immediately. Running and rapid movements may trigger an attack. Remember, a cougar’s instinct is to chase. [Ok, this makes sense, I'm with them so far.]
* Face the cougar, talk to it firmly and slowly back away. Always leave the animal an escape route. [You want me to talk to it? Really? And forget the cougar's escape route, what about mine?]
* Try to appear larger than the cougar by getting above it. (e.g., stepping up onto a stump). If wearing a jacket, hold it open to further increase your size. [Right. Talk to it and hold my jacket open so I look thoroughly insane, and scare the cougar off that way. Makes sense.]
* Do not take your eyes off the animal or turn your back. [Um, duh??]
* If the animal does not flee and shows signs of aggression (crouches with ears back, teeth bared, hissing, tail twitching, and hind feet pumping in preparation to jump), be more assertive. [Sure thing, right after I poop my pants.] Shout, wave your arms and throw rocks. The idea is to convince the cougar that you are not prey, but a potential danger. [This reminds me of a rottweiler that almost attacked me when I was in high school. I did, in fact, jump toward it screaming, and the dog stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me like I was crazy. So I guess that would work.]

So, this one little article sent me into a tailspin of worry, where I started imagining worst-case scenarios of what I would do if I found a cougar in our yard. I mean, I freaked out last night because I found a raccoon in our kitchen. (Apparently he likes cat food.) But a cougar? I have no idea how to deal with that. And then I start to think that maybe we need to have a gun for these wild kingdom-esque situations. The thing is, I am about as anti-gun a person as you’ll ever meet. I have never touched a gun in my life. In seventh grade, they made all of us take a “hunter’s education” class, because that’s what happens when you grow up in a red state, and part of the class involved going to a shooting range and learning how to fire a gun. I got my mom to write me a note to excuse me from the class because it was against my beliefs. That’s how anti-gun I was when I was 12 years old, so imagine what I’m like now. Yeah. But seriously, if it comes down to a cougar versus my cats, or God forbid, a cougar versus our as-yet-unconceived child? I’d totally be willing to use a gun, in a heartbeat. So now I have to make a decision about that. And the worry spiral continues. Fun! You know, I really like this house and all, but sometimes I miss apartment/city life. Oy.

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I was bored today, so I thought I would amuse myself by taking pictures of our cats. And now I’m playing with this new WordPress plug-in that lets me put little thumbnails of photos in my posts. (Well, it’s not a new plug-in, it’s just new to me.) So now, for your viewing pleasure… (click any of the images to see them larger.)

This is Teenie, hanging out in my office. She gets in my chair every time I get out of it, which is sort of annoying, but in a totally adorable way.

Here’s Cleo, posing like a true supermodel on the bathmat. She’s my favorite of Dave’s cats because she’s so mellow and sweet. I really love her coloring too, I’ve never seen a cat that looks quite like her. Note those crazy paws with the thumbs. I’m telling you, someday she’s going to learn how to use those suckers and then we’re all in trouble.

Also, you saw how cute and happy Teenie looked up there? This is what she looks like when Cleo comes into the office. See how flat her ears get when she’s mad? I tried to catch her in mid-hiss, but I totally missed it.

This is Beaumont on our deck. I realized later that he had some crusty stuff on his eye and on his leg, and I thought about editing it out of the photo, but I think this is a pretty true representation of what he actually looks like most of the time. From afar, he looks like a lovely and elegant long-haired black cat, but in reality he is a total doof.

We have this little orange cat that sometimes comes inside to get food when we leave the door open. I’m pretty sure he’s a stray because he used to run every time I made eye contact with him, but he’s getting used to me. I was still a good ten feet away when I took this picture, I just sat on the kitchen floor and used the zoom lens to get the up-close shot of him. (He’ll hang out in the doorway as long as I don’t get too close, but he’ll wait to come inside until I’m safely out of view.) I realized just how horrendously filthy our slider door is when I saw this photo. It’s sort of mortifying, I can’t believe I’m showing it to the whole Internet. Ignore the dirt, look at the cute kitty!

Out in the yard, I caught Greta in the middle of her bath. This picture makes me laugh every time I see it.

This is more like what she normally looks like. Not exactly pleased, is she? I think she’s a little annoyed with me for that last photo. But she’s still sitting in her mid-bath pose, which is darn funny to me.

And of course, I have to end this post on a cute little “awwww” note. So here’s Beaumont and Greta doing a little kissy-face action. So sweet.

Have a great weekend!

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Ok. So. There’s this thing, which has been keeping me sort of preoccupied for the past couple of weeks, and I wasn’t sure whether or not to write about it and share it with the whole World Wide Internets(tm). I asked Dave what he thought, and at first he said it was too personal, then he changed his mind and was like “ehh…” Thanks for the help, honey. I’ve decided that since this little blog o’ mine is the closest thing I have to a diary, I might as well document it for my own personal future reference. So here goes.

Attention world: I am going off birth control.

That’s right. I know some people will probably think it’s too soon, since Dave and I have only been married for five months. But those are probably the same people who thought we were crazy for getting married after only a year. And you know, we both know who we are, and we know what we want. I’ve been calling Dave my “marriage and babies guy” for quite a while, and I know he’s the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, so why wait? We aren’t going to be marking days on the calendar or anything, and I think that it takes an average of about a year for most couples to conceive, so we aren’t expecting anything to happen immediately. We’re just going to throw caution to the wind and see what nature has in store for us.

Honestly, I was worried that I was pressuring Dave into the baby thing. I’ve been ready for years, and lately I’ve had to hold myself back from sniffing babies’ heads when I see them at the supermarket. (Um, not like they have babies for sale right next to the canteloupes or anything. It’s just that recently, since I’ve been going to get groceries in the middle of the day, most of the other shoppers are stay-at-home mom’s with their children.) I kept offering him out’s - like, maybe this isn’t a good idea while I’m not working, maybe we should wait until we’re more financially stable or until we’ve been married for at least a year, etc. But he seems to be almost more enthusiastic about this than me. I suppose it makes sense for me to be a little more cautious and nervous about it, since I’m the one whose body is going to go through all sorts of changes and the joy (ha!) of childbirth. But I also know that being a mom is something I truly want to be. And I’m pretty sure that I’ll be good at it - all I have to do is repeat what my mom did, because she’s fantastic.

So, that’s what all of those vague references to doctors were about. I wanted to make sure that I had the ok to go off of birth control, given my past history. It looks like everything is fine and all systems are a go, so to speak, so that’s good. This still feels weird to write about, because we haven’t talked about this with most of our family; although I guess by posting this, a few more people will be in the loop. (Hi!) It also seems a little gross to announce, “Hey everyone! We’re going to be having lots & lots of unprotected sex at our house! Yee-haw!” I know we’re married, so technically that’s allowed, but I’ve never really been one to talk about my sex life, so it feels kind of icky to start now. But like I said, this is my journal, so I have to be honest here.

Anyway, that’s the latest news from our part of the world. How are you?

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When you have a total childhood regression and buy halloween candy a good two or three weeks before halloween, and you tip your head back to pour the entire contents of a pixy stix straw onto your tongue, remember to breathe through your nose and not your mouth. Ow.

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