Monday, May 05, 2008

Odds and Ends
Thought I'd catch everybody up on some things that are going on or just some thoughts buzzing around in my head.

BROTHER: A lot of you have asked about how my brother is... thank you for your kind words and prayers. He received my second bag of stem cells (Insert Baa-Baa Black Sheep Joke Here) Things are not so dire; he is feeling a little better and is taking small pleasures in just being able to sit outside. Usually when we talk I've learned not to ask how he is feeling or 'what happens next'... I try to steer the conversation to be about nutty things my father did this week.

CAT: I'm still at odds with my cat Dinah. She can be so adorable at times, but last week we fought quite a bit. She's taken to trying to wake me up by biting my feet at 3 in the morning. All the cat training books and web-sites say that the worst thing you can do is to yell at a cat when they do anything bad. Yeah, try that when you've just been attacked in the middle of the night. The attacks are random and sometimes come out of nowhere. I'm probably at fault; I know I don't play enough with her and she's just going nuts being home all day by herself. I've even thought of a second cat, but I'm not sure if my cat allergies would handle it. I think this would be better if I had deep feelings for her, but she's not been the coziest kitten. It's like having a roommate that doesn't like me very much.
Oh and get this story. So a couple weeks ago I was in my kitchen, probably on the computer, and I hear this horrific scream from the living room. I assume Dinah was up on the windowsill trying to get a better look at the birds that perch on the building next door, and she got her leg caught in the blinds. I made it in there just in time to see her to be crouched in the middle of the floor, in attack mode, hissing. I'd never seen her so violent. She crawled and limped to the bedroom and hid under the bed. I would call her and she'd come out only to hiss and moan. In her mind it was my fault she got caught up in the blinds. After a half hour of 'Crouching Kitten, Hiding Owner" I decided that this was 'bad' and I'd have to somehow get her into the travel cage and to the Vet Emergency Room. Ten minutes of hissing, biting and crawling under the cabinets, I just left the cage open and I sat across the room. She walked right in and I slammed the door.

Now the Vet ER on a Sunday has to be the saddest place in the whole world. Everyone there looks stressed. The staff was amazing. The woman who admitted us couldn't have been sweeter. I don't know how they do it every day. Can you imagine? In a way it's got to be worse than a people emergency room. Unconscious puppies, limping Greyhounds, puking Australian Sheep dogs.
Long story, short. Dinah was fine... she just scared herself and pulled a muscle in her leg. They gave me some pain medicine and a $400 bill. I told the nice receptionist, "The pain medicine is for me, right?" That evening Dinah was jumping about like nothing happened. Ah the drama. I don't know how people have children.


BODY: So I'm on my 3rd full month of being at the gym. I've been trying to go at least 3 times a week, sometimes 4. I've lost a total of zero pounds. Although, I did seem to firm up a bit in the waist. A pair of pants that wouldn't even button before were button able, but unwearable. This last week was really bad for going to the gym. Every night I seemed to have something to do, and it involved eating a ton of food and drinking beer or wine. After 8 days of constant eating and drinking I want to do a bit of detox this week. Nothing but salads and water. So what did I have for lunch? A Big Mac. But I did have it with the McDonald's bottled water. Which I found out contains salt! Salt in the water. If you didn't get enough salt with your fries, wash it down with some salt water.
But I swear I'm back to the gym tomorrow. I've going to try to do the Climb the Hancock race next February. I missed this year. I've been doing the StairMaster and I'm up to 20 floors in 7 minutes. After which I gasp for air and point to the nearest defibrillator. The only thing that keeps me going to the gym is the sauna and the whirlpool... I'm addicted. I like the sauna when it's quiet; I think that people shouldn't talk when they are in a sauna. This is my personal time to sweat. But I did hear a funny conversation recently. Two Middle Eastern guys were talking.
Man One: Did you get a job yet.
Man Two: No. I may start to drive a cab.
Man One: Are you crazy? Driving a cab is for people who come here but who can't do anything else.
Man One: I don't know what else to do, I need money to start a business.
Man Two: If you start driving a cab you will never stop. It's an addiction. You'll see how much money you can make and then you'll keep driving looking for more and more fares. I know many men who said that they would drive only for a couple of years, and 25 years later they are still driving. Promise me you won't start.

I had no idea that cab driving was such a problem.

SOCIAL LIFE: As I said, it seemed like every evening last week I was out. This Saturday I did something very interesting. I got invited to a play reading party. It was at the home of a co-worker of a friend, Gloria. The party was made up of four couples who have been doing this for 43 years! We read a Noel Coward play called "Hay fever". It was one of those rollicking English country manor farces with a crazy family. I played a young boxer who was smitten with the lady of the household, a famous stage actress. It was all very droll. Later we had a wonderful dinner, which I stuffed myself for the eighth day in a row.
Afterwards, Gloria and I went to the famous Pump Room at the Ambassador Hotel. I can't believe I'd never been. It was awesome! The photos on the walls are worth the trip. Durante, Sinatra, Don Knotts, Tom Bosley... everyone you can think of has their photo up there. It was a great people watching place. Old dames in their best dresses, purchased in 1969 and just taken out of the plastic for the evening, danced with their rich husbands to a jazz band.

A couple sat next to us, the woman must have been in her seventies. She had way too much work done on her face. Have any of these women ever seen "Brazil"? They got up to dance with her husband and the thing that I noticed was just how nice her ass looked. Over 70, no matter how much you do yoga you're asses won't point up. I felt like saying, "I don't know who did that, but good job."

BLOGGING STRESS: It gets harder and harder to come up with ideas for posts. After a year and a half, I've just about exhausted my magazines. Although I still have a bunch left to scan. I might try doing more theme days. Years ago I was dating someone and after telling a funny story that I had told a million times before, I stopped and said, "That's it, I having absolutly nothing else to tell you... I realized I'm out of stories..." The Kitten Wednesdays are fun because if I find something on the weekend I just put it in my holding bin. I've got posts ready for the next month. I was maybe planning on adding on doing an essay type post on Sundays. Longer, more words than pictures. Maybe Tuesday could be music days. I'm trying to find ways to put the fun back into this. Although I love it, sometimes it starts to feel like just another diversion to cleaning my apartment, which by the way is a complete mess. But how do people find the time to do this every day?

Thanks for reading. Talk soon...

5 comments:

Aaron said...

I sometimes go for days without posting anything, because there are no interesting things in the news or in my life. I wait until I have something. But you always seem to have something interesting, and if you can't think of anything to write about, who says you have to do it every day?

Dinah sounds like she's just an overly independent kitty. Sophie can be like that at times, but she demands attention when she wants it. And she always sleeps with me. When I go to get in bed, she's usually there first, and I have to climb over her.

Oh, that whole "don't yell at your cat" thing is the bunk. What do they suggest? Oh, that's right, the squirt bottle. Well, that stops working after a while and encouranges them to pee, in my experience. Who wrote those books anyway, The Cat Whisperer? Whatevs...

Erik said...

Great post!

PonyBoy Press said...

I just found your blog, so I am hoping you don't quit! I totally understand about using it as a tactic to not clean the apartment, but if it wasn't blogging it would be something else.

Sorry about your brother. It must be very hard

Johnny C said...

Hey Pony Boy. Love your site. Especially the buttons... I'll make you a link on here... No I'm not going to quit; I didn't want this to be another one of those posts where the blogger says he's going to quit and then all the readers say, "oh, no don't do that..." It's just so time consuming.

But yes. I'd just find another reason not to clean under the sink.

fran said...

Don't give up! There are always more magazines out there. or you can take a different focus. I have trouble finding stuff to talk about regularly, too.

But on a helpful note : your cat sounds like mine. my saviour is a very silly bit of wire and cardboard called "the cat dancer". google it. order it. this toy has saved my bacon with four cats, so far. no, I don't work for them.