R.I.P. Beauregard, aka Best Kitty Ever.

Once upon a time, about 17 years ago, two small kittens weaseled their furry way into my heart. Emily and Beauregard came home with me from a local pet store's free adoption day. They quickly took over almost the entire apartment, including the rooms we didn't really want them to go in. Such is the way of adorable kittens. They act all adorable so you can't possibly be mad at them, even when they're throwing up on the rug, or in your shoes.

A few months after they came home, I lost the job I was working at at the time. This, of course, meant I couldn't do the spaying/neutering thing right away, and we wound up with two litters of kittens. The first was a set of three, two of whom moved to lovely homes with friends (one became a Natasha, and the other a Tigger), while the third stayed here as my brother's cat. He couldn't come up with a name for her, so we wound up calling her Poofie until he came up with a name (which was Leia, and by that time, she was pretty used to Poofie, so Poofie it still is). Somehow, when my brother moved to Florida, Poofie managed to stay behind, though. The next set had three originally, but one died a few weeks later, poor little thing. The other two went to live with my mom, and were called Butterscotch and Hopscotch. Anyway, I had a new job by this point, and as soon as I was able I got them both fixed. No more kittens for us!

After that, Emily, my little multi-colored tabby, was known as Mama. Beaureagard, meanwhile, due to his doofy, dog-like nature, was called Bo. A big old classic orange tabby, Bo is possibly the second sweetest cat I ever knew, without being needy. He'd run up to anybody, flicking his tail back and forth, greeting friends and strangers alike. Everybody loved Bo kitty. He'd just kind of hang out, often wandering under the dining room table, petting himself on whatever feet were available. Like I said, not needy. Give him your foot, he'd do all the work. Not the smartest cat in the world, but one of the friendliest.

He loved to be outdoors. We have a decent-sized yard, but the best feature of it is the strip of woods that it backs up to. Directly behind the house is our driveway, and on the other side of it, the woodsy part goes kind of straight up-ish; beyond that is the highway and the off ramp. We like to walk up there sometimes and sit on the rocks looking out over the highway and the rest of the mountain on the other side. One day we were sitting up there and all of a sudden we hear a little "meow". He'd been outside wandering around, and found us hanging out up there. After that, he'd always come sit with us whenever we climbed up there. Even when he was just sitting in the yard, he was happy. I'd look out the kitchen window sometimes and see him sitting out there, little round orange face turned up to the sun, eyes mostly closed, just breathing the air.

Funny, though, that even though he loved to be outside, he never really chased any animals. Oh, a few times he brought us some baby moles, or a baby bird or bunny. He only went after the babies. He was nearly as lazy as I am. He was terrified of the blue jays, and they knew. They'd start yelling at him form their perches up in the trees, and he'd come running for the door. Once, we were sitting out in the backyard on one of those glider chair things, and he was sleeping on the picnic table. A couple of squirrels came wandering into the yard, as we were sitting pretty quietly. He saw them and kind of hung over the edge of the table a little, but they knew him, apparently. They ran all around that table, up underneath it and everything, and he just laid there dozing off in the sun. Oh, man, we taunted him mercilessly for that one. Not that he minded. You know, what with the not speaking English, and all. He'd just look at us with that adorable, goofy face of his, waiting for the pettings. Then we'd feel bad for laughing at him. Not bad enough to stop laughing, though.

In recent years, he started sleeping in the classic full-on "Garfield faceplant" formation, catloaf-style, but with his face flat on whatever surface he was on. The first couple of times we saw him do it, we laughed so hard we woke him up and startled him right out of it. It always made me nervous he couldn't breathe, although he didn't have any problems breathing. Or snoring. First snoring cat I ever had, I think.

I lost my special little guy today. He got real old, all of a sudden, over the last few weeks, and today he laid down for a nap he didn't wake up from. Mama seems pretty upset. Poofie, as with all things, couldn't care less. Tim and I are kind of a mess. We'll all get past it, of course, but boy, are we gonna miss our big old doofy dogcat.

If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you?

Oh, hello, Gentle Reader. What a splendid day it is to have a No Whining Wednesday, wouldn't you say?

But Wednesday isn't what I'm going to tell you about right now. Let me tell you about my Tuesday, in food: I started off with a healthy breakfast of oatmeal, accompanied by a delightful cup of cinnamon-hazelnut coffee. Around 11:30 or so, I started to get a bit hungry, so I had a lovely snack of cauliflower with a little bit of sour cream to dip it in. Delicious, and nutritious! Now, before I move on to the afternoon feeding frenzy, let me tell you a little something about the company I work for: they are all about employee morale. Not just in a superficial way, either; they genuinely care about their employees and want us to be happy. Now, there are kind of a lot of us, so instead of every person's birthday being celebrated with a cake &c., we have a "Cake Day" once a month to celebrate everyone's birthday that falls in that month. Yesterday was cake day. Now, often, everyone will get together and chip in for a birthday person's lunch on their actual birthday (or thereabouts). So, yesterday turned out to also be lunch day for LK, who turned 40 this year. The office ordered lunch from a local deli. Now, I already had the fixin's for my daily peanut butter sandwich on wheat bread, but I said "What the heck" and ordered a half-pound of macaroni salad. Figured I'd eat a little on the side, bring it home, have the rest for a few days. Well, here's how that actually worked: I ordered it, ate a quarter pound of it along with my peanut butter sandwich, and then ate a giant slice of birthday cake along with a brownie and some cookies that DH bakes (oh she is such a good baker). Then, I went home from work. I was pretty tired, and I didn't feel like cooking anything, so instead I had a bowl of BooBerry cereal. That's not terribly filling, though, so I was still kinda hungry (I'm not really sure how). So, I finished off the macaroni salad. Then I ate a bunch of Cheetos. Unsurprisingly, I had to put on my big pants this morning. Also, I feel a little bit nauseous. I love my job.

In other birthday-related news, this weekend is my baby sister's 30th birthday. My tiny, preemie baby sister, born at four-and-a-half pounds with a heart murmur. The wee little thing whose diapers I changed, who I fed bottles too, whose ticklish spots I discovered (her neck and her knees. She makes the cutest little giggly snort when you tickle her neck). The first time I touched her was in an incubator at the hospital, a plastic case with holes in the sides and big rubber glove things you stuck your hands in. She made it through, obvs, and she's officially a grownup now. (This also puts all four of us sibs in the same decade, agewise, at least for a year and a couple of months until I ruin it for another 8 years by turning 40.) So, we'll be having a lovely famerly BBQ on Sunday, and there will be much wine and merriment. I love my family. They're all kind of crazy, you know, but who isn't? And they're *my* kind of crazy, so they get me. My sisters are made of pure awesome. I might be a little in love with them.

Anyway, that's my week right now, and where I'm at on the happy scale. Fat and in love with my family. I think it's a pretty good way to be. It's about lunchtime now, and I'm going to the diner today with my boss. She said something about grilled cheese and soup, and that sounds just ambrosial right about now. Off I go then! Happy No Whining Wednesday!

Oh, it's already been broughten.

Today's post is dedicated to the very beautiful Lainey Awesomeface Bobainey, who is illin' like a villain today. Get Well Soon, SugarTits!

Yes, it is No Whining Wednesday again, and here I am, trying desperately not to whine. I'm midway through my third week of being stupid sick, which is angering me. But, today is the first day in those 2.5 weeks that I actually feel pretty chipper, so yay! Go me. Also, I didn't get super angry at traffic today like I have been (I'm really, REALLY cranky when I'm sick. You can imagine the joy of my coworkers), so go me again!

In other news, Pajiba has announced the start of the Cannonball Read II: Electric Bookaloo: In My Pants: Not Without My Library Card: Mother May I Read With Danger for November 1st. I'm very excited about it! So much so that I started a whole separate blog just for my Cannonball Reviewing! The gist is this: You read a book a week for a year (or rather, 52 books in a year), and blog a 3-4 paragraph review of each one. Books have to be at least 200 pages, and there are no graphic novels allowed (and I think no children's books? I'd better get a bit more familiar with the rules...); I know they can be fiction or non-, and short story collections have to have at least six stories. Anyway, there are lots of awesome people joining in, and it's for a good cause (a donation to the college fund of a little guy who lost his mom, a Warrior Queen, to leukemia earlier this year. Plus, literacy, yay!). Please, check it out and also feel free to join in! I've got a list of about 20 books so far, all of which have been laying about the house in various states of un-read-ness. Feel free to give me suggestions, though I won't necessarily take them!

Meanwhile, classes are going strong still. Halfway through the semester (and I could've had three books for the Read with my Films & Literature class, but I think we'll be finished with the third before the Read begins, so only 2 from there. It's too bad, too, because I just finished The Virgin Suicides, and I have ...thoughts and feelings. Perhaps I'll blog about it anyway, as a practice review). Saw The Limey for the first time in my other class the other night, still love Terrence "Badass" Stamp. Possible more now. I've got a new niece on the way (just got a text that my sister-in-law was induced, so any time now!). So far, her name is Summer Austin. She'll be joining big sisters Sumayah Angel and Savannah Anne, who are both happy that she wasn't born on their birthdays (10/8 and 10/4 respectively) so they don't have to share.

So everything's pretty sweet, even if I am tired from the sickness, which I am NOT down with at all, by the way, thankyouverymuchDisturbed. And now, I'd better get back to work before I get fired and REALLY have something to whine about...

Mid-weekend update: Tattoo fever!

So. As many of you may know, I have a single tattoo. Some of you may even have seen it. Well, I'm in the market for .... well, frankly, at least 7 more. I have a number of ideas, though no clear ones. Except for this one: I watched Strictly Ballroom again today, and remembered how much I'd like a tattoo of the phrase, "A life lived in fear is a life half-lived". My problems are these: I need to figure out where to put it, and if necessary, how to split the line; I need to figure out if I want it in English or as in the film ("Vivir con miedo es como vivir a medias", although I'm pretty sure I'll go with English); and I need a font.

I spent several hours online today searching fonts, and I found a few that could work. I think my favorite thus far is this one. It's not too fancy but not too plain, it's legible, and it's light. It looks pretty in English and in Spanish. It's very much akin to handwriting, which I like; I have considered an Edwardian script or something like it, but I'm not sure I want something that ... neat. I think I'd prefer it a little messy, a little imperfect, kind of like life. I also liked this one, which is a bit cleaner (though still a little pitted), yet kind of old-fashioned, like something you'd find in a sailor's diary from the mid-18th century. I sort of liked this one, but the more I look at it, the more it reminds me too much, I think, of those greeting cards that are supposed to be real emotions, or something. I don't know. Too Hallmark-esque, I think. I looked at a bunch of the "Gothic" styles, but they're very heavy, and I don't think they work with the sentiment. Naturally, I've thought about using my own handwriting, but I don't know that I like it well enough to wear it forever on my body, or if it's the style that I want. I'm not particularly artistic like that. I also need to decide if I actually want to capitalize all the words (i.e. A Life Lived in Fear is a Life Half Lived), or stick with lowercase; I like the idea of capitalizing for fancier-ness, but it's not terribly realistic. On the other hand, who the hell needs "realistic" in a tattoo? And what does that even mean?

As for location, oh dear. That's why it took me until I was 35 to get my first one: deciding where to put it. I wound up deciding on lower back (yeah, I know, shut up) because it's easily covered up (no, it really is; only girls that wear hooker clothes can't keep it covered, and I don't wear hooker clothes. Often). I am thinking of down my side, but closer to my armpit or closer to my hip? I am also considering my upper back, right below my neck, which would then necessitate a split. How would I split the line then? A life lived in fear/is a life half lived, or A life lived in fear is a/life half lived? I feel like it would be too ...even the first way. Unless I have the top line start a bit to the left of center and the bottom line a bit to the right. I'm not completely against the even way, I'm just not sure. Another option, and one I love, is the inside of my forearm, though I wear a lot of short sleeved/sleeveless items in the summer. Do I care that much? I'm not sure. If I did this, it would go from elbow to wrist, I do know that much. I could also do it on the top of my foot, somehow, though I don't know how I would work that. I could also do it in a spiral, but I think I like that idea less. I thought of doing it around my ankle, like an anklet, but I think I'm pretty "feh" on that one. Also, I don't think the handwriting-y font would work that way. It'd have to be something neater and more even. I think the font depends in part on the location, generally; like if I were to put it down my side, I'd go with the first one I linked above, while on my forearm, I think I'd be more likely to choose the second. I'd also more likely choose lowercase lettering on my forearm, but capitalization down my side.

So, as you can see, I probably won't be getting this for a while. Clearly I'm not ready yet. I'd kind of like to make these decisions, though, so that I'm prepared should the opportunity arise for me to get it. And I'd like the opportunity to arise soon. Meanwhile, help a girl out! Thoughts? Suggestions? Ideas? Despise one, or all, of the ones I've come up with? By all means, weigh in! There are sure to be pictures once I finally do it. If that's, y'know, an incentive for ya.

I'm trying not to whine... but I'm failing!

Well, here it is, No Whining Wednesday again, and I'm home sick in bed. For the fourth consecutive day. Some kind of gross, disgusting head cold-slash-plague that is making me cough so hard I pee a little and making me blow my nose incessantly. My poor, chapped nose. But, in the spirit of the day, the bright side: Today, I watched Mega Shark Vs. Giant Octopus on the Netflix Instant Watch doohickey, which is possibly the greatest film ever created. (P.S. Dear friend Myysharona has an amazingly funny real-time review of it up on her blog. Read it. You won't regret it.) My favorite parts: the guy who freaks out when he sees the Mega Shark leaping at his plane just before he gets eaten is, I'm pretty sure, the same extra who is running down the stairs behind Electric Youth (I'll never be able to think of her as anything but, Sharon) and the lab coat who's yelling at her in the VERY NEXT SCENE. It's probably a bad production decision to use your actors like that. Lamas's greezy, slicked-back douchetail. The fact that "science" = what it did when I was 5, i.e. pouring colored liquids between fancy-shaped beakers and frowning at them. Oh, and the dialogue. Amazing. I can't even begin to do justice to the dialogue.

And then tonight I got to watch Glee, all the way from the beginning (I have a class on Wednesdays that generally prevents me from catching the first few minutes, but since I'm sick, I skipped out on it). Jane Lynch is freakin' awesome and should be, as I have said elsewhere and repeatedly, in EVERYTHING EVER. Bonus: I also got to catch So You Think You Can Dance for the first time in its new, exciting fall incarnation. Oh, and another bonus to the plague: I haven't worn pants for like a total of an hour over the last four days. Yay! for pantslessness!

So, it's a short one tonight, kids, because I need to go to sleep now so I can get up in the morning and see whether I can make it to work without hacking all over everybody or stay home again and watch some more awefulsomely (TM Barney Stinson) bad movies and hack my brains out in my comfy chair. I hope everyone else's 3-month anniversary of No Whining Wednesday was good, though! (P.S. I tried, Lainey! I really did!)