Nightmares [Stress]

My mother always says that everything can be attributed to stress in some way. I'm going to attribute 1.5 months without a single post to stress. I didn't post because I was stressed. It's a fact. I'm also going to attribute to stress the nightmares I had this morning after Tyler left for work.

In the first, I was in my childhood home with my family, and I was insisting to my father that my car was perfectly fine parked on the street. I went to the window to show him, and my little blue Nissan had been rolled up some kind of ramp across the street, apparently by baseball teams who were having gang warfare on the front lawn. They were firing handguns at each other. No one seemed deeply concerned, and every time I tried to call 911, something went wrong. I hit the wrong keys, or the operator couldn't hear me, or I couldn't read the numbers on the buttons (although I distinctly remember seeing numbers clearly and accurately at some point, which isn't supposed to happen in dreams). I was also fretting over the door locks and something was amiss with the others cars parked in the driveway. In the second dream, I was in a tiny room in a library with Tyler and my brother, and we were deep in conversation over a book lying open on the table. The library was about to close, and the librarian came in, and instead of telling us it was time to leave, he insisted, as he closed and removed the book, that because we weren't grasping the concepts in the book chapter, we ought not to read it at all, and go home. I leaned back in my chair and I accused him of not wanting us to be able to grasp the concepts, which seemed deeply appalling in my dream, as if the librarian were violating a librarian code of ethics to help and to want people to understand. The dream shifted, and my brother and Tyler had left, and the librarian was confronting me in the corner of the tiny library room, trying to claim he wasn't doing as I'd suggested, and also trying to threaten me at the same time.

When I finally woke up to my alarm, I felt unsafe, and had to check the door to make sure Tyler had locked it when he left. Ah, stress.

Update 4:02pm: I think I also dreamed that I was pregnant. I hate that.

Weekend Recap

Okay, so Soccer in the Circle was hot, crowded, and lacking in beer, but the 1-1 tie was not a disappointment. And neither is this video. Be sure to check out the 1:37 mark and the 2:27 mark to see My Guy decked out in his American finest for the USMNT:

Anyway, I will watch future US games perched on a stool in a nice cool bar, drinking a nice cold beer, as is precisely my plan for the US - Slovenia game on Friday. My Bolt Bus out of Union Station leaves at 11:30am, which should give my companion and me enough time to watch at least part of the 10am match, and drink a pint or two prior to our journey ;-)

Happy World Cup Starting Day!

I'm listening to the France-Uruguay on ESPN Radio. I love the World Cup. I love the world-wide community interest and participation. I love that this is happening (in general, not just for the World Cup), and I am extra excited about Soccer in the Circle, the World Cup viewing party tomorrow in Dupont Circle. Cheers to the Screaming Eagles, for helping to make it happen. I'll be there tomorrow, decked out in red, white, and blue, with the American Outlaws. (So many girlfriend points will I earn).

I am so excited to see Oguchi Onyewu play. Not only is he local (from Olney, MD!) but I was at the game at RFK Stadium when he tore his patella last fall, which was terrible to watch, so I hope he kicks ass tomorrow!

I swear to god, these vuvuzelas are going to drive me insane.

My ESPN prediction bracket:



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Kittens in the City: A Gritty, Urban Tale of Two Now-Sterile Felines

Meet Emma, my tiny orange lady cat, and the subject of much fuss this week. Emma is all cat, preferring generally not to be touched unless she has specifically granted permission, and probably plotting ways to kill me in my sleep. Because of this, I crave her approval. I melt into a useless puddle of cat lady when she crawls into my lap, and I think practically everything she does is delightful, even when she is in heat, and whoring her way through the living room, propositioning various pieces of furniture. Delight is not, however, inexpensive. In early May, after charging me $350 for two booster shots, a check-up, and a urinalysis, my vet quoted me almost $600 for all the things involved in spaying my delightful tiny girl cat. After drinking a bottle of recovery wine, I determined that that was wildly unacceptable and vowed to find a cheaper way to 'fix' my precious pet.

What I learned is that everything sucks. The Montgomery County Humane Society has a great program, if you adopt your pet from them. If you happen to have adopted your kittens from your (deeply allergic) brother who got them from his ex-girlfriend who got them from... some guy at a tanning salon (?) and are generally unclear as to their origin but knew that they needed a home and you were planning to adopt two kittens anyway... then you are screwed, because the cost of everything falls on you by yourself. For those in these found-cat situations (which, let's be honest, are no less deserving than adopting from the humane society, as long as everyone gets a warm, happy place to call home) MoCo offers an income-based reduced-cost spay/neuter program... which isn't very reduced at all, unless you are so poor you probably can't even afford to feed your pet and so shouldn't actually have one, and also isn't even accepted at the vet office next to the humane society. No good, MoCo. Friends of Animals sells reduced-cost certificates, but they're only honored at three local vets. I put aside my qualms about their PETA-ish / vegan policies, and we did try that, with Emma's brother Henry, and he was successfully neutered, but... the vet's office was in a walk-in basement, and I had to pass through the vet's laundry room to get to Henry afterward, and that was too much for me, so I can't take them back there, regardless of how perfectly fine that vet probably is (and thank you, Mr. Basement Vet, for sterilizing my healthy, happy gentleman cat). And so I finally found the Washington Humane Society, which offers magical $45 spay/neuter services in South-East DC.

This process is intense. To make an appointment, you have to call and leave all pertinent information, and then wait to be called back. And you are only permitted to call once every two weeks. It took a month to get my appointment. On the Monday I was going to make my third bi-weekly phone call, they finally offered me a Wednesday appointment. Now the rules about this are few but strict: Emma was to arrive between 7:30-8:30am, in a carrier, with proof of her feline leukemia vaccine, and be collected between 5-5:45pm, or risk being transported to a local shelter and incurring a fee. Doesn't sound too hard, but, um, it is. I live in Rockville. SE may only be thirty miles away, but in rush hour traffic, that's a suicide mission, and not just because SE is where DC happens to keep most of it's crime and death (if I were tweeting, I'd tag this #bodiesintheriver).

And so, we, my intrepid lady cat and I, set out at 5am, her in a bag, and me with an enormous jug of iced coffee, and a stack of Google Maps, labeled with sticky notes for the phases of our journey... in order to save a giant assload of money. Emma doesn't really like being in a bag. It doesn't seem intrepid at all, really, and it was hard for her to see the Pentagon as we drove past it, so she pooped. I can't really blame her. I missed the exit from 395 onto the SE/SW Freeway, so I wound up in North-East. Bagged the poop at a stop sign, and asked an old man with a dog how to get to South-East. In this way I learned about the way DC streets are organized, which is to say that mostly they are a giant clusterfuck and you should stick to your Google Maps as much as possible, even though Google Maps doesn't realize that 66 West is HOV only if you're exiting the District between 4-6:30pm (April '09), or that Rock Creek Parkway is only open to north-bound traffic between 3:45-6pm (October '09). I digress. Right on K Street, left on 4th, and poof, I'm back in SE. Something else Google doesn't know: L St. doesn't connect between 9th and 10th streets -- it's one way. Which is how I somehow wound up on Pennsylvania Ave and had a heart attack at signs bearing the word "Anacostia." Anyway, Phase 1 of Mission: Spay the Cat ended with Emma and I parked safely in 2-hr parking directly across from the door of the Spay/Neuter Center, a whole hour early. We cuddled, watched passing cars and birds, and listened to NPR. At 7:25am, all the people/pet combos that had been arriving at the center exited their vehicles and clustered around the side door, under the little blue awning. Emma scowled at everyone, including Tang, the big black cat in the leopard print carrier, and both tiny tufted-something rat-dogs who shook and trembled. The center opened about 25 minutes late, which struck all of us waiting as somewhat of a disconnect, given the emphasis on time and the strict rules upon which our appointments had been contingent. Five minutes, one easy form, and a quick check of Emma's proof of vaccines later, and they took her carrier from me. I said goodbye, and she made really big eyes at me, and I broke inside. Sobbed in the car (#catlady).

I got out the Google Map labeled "Phase 2 (vet to work)" and deviated from the route within 10 minutes. I took M Street west and wound up on 12th St, instead of... whatever I was supposed to do. Drove past the Mall, countless monuments, the Metro Center Barnes & Noble, and then magically found Massachusetts Ave., zipped around behind the Cathedral, and parked safely in my assigned spot. Phase 2 was pretty easy.

And then I fretted all fucking day long about Emma, and about what time I should leave work to make sure I got to her on time, without being irresponsible about my job, or just plain crazy. I have anxiety, you see.

I left at 4pm, which isn't actually early -- it's when I'm supposed to leave, but typically I stay until 4:30, to earn time towards my bi-weekly half-day. I retraced my steps back down Mass. and around three traffic circles (you don't scare me, Dupont Circle) and caught 395 S off of New York Avenue (but not before accidentally turning down a one way street after I initially missed the right onto 395, and then almost killing a very angry pedestrian during one of my maneuvers to get back to 395. 395 S to 295 and BAM I was there. This sounds easier than it was. I was fretful and tense. But the girl at WHS was terrific. She gave me a great run-down of the things I'd already read on the website about Emdiggitty's aftercare, and brought me my poor little beastie. I have to say, signing my credit card receipt for $60 (procedure, pills, no-lick collar), knowing it could have been practically $600, put a big damn smile on my face. Emma, of course, scowled and hissed, and understandably so because I'm the bitch responsible for this. She mrrrrrrr'd at me in displeasure from her carrier and then fell asleep for most of the ride. Again, I deviated without meaning to, somehow missing the right I was supposed to take from M onto North Capital Street. I triumphed over adversity, though, magically connecting with the SE/SW Freeway some other way, and then it's all a big Tidal Basin-Kennedy Center-Whitehurst Freeway-Canal Road-Clara Barton blur. I was doing really well, making it all up as I went, until I floundered circa the end of MacArthur Blvd. What I should have done, and I secretly did know this at the time, was stay on Falls Rd, and I would've been home in no time. What I did instead, for some ungodly reason, was turn left onto River Road and proceed to the very end of it, finding myself in Poolsville. Ugh. I let the poor woozy lady our of her carrier, and she cuddled in my lap through the rest of the drive. Unsafe, I know, but I knew where I was by then, and I missed her. An approximation of Wednesday's travels with Emma:

View Catastrophe Wednesday! in a larger map

Once at home, she wobbled and blinked her way around the den, where we'd opted to seclude her. She hissed confusedly at My Guy, probably because she was rightfully in a mood to blame men for all her troubles, though normally she's more likely to seek out his lap than mine. I built her a nest under my desk, and put out small bowls of food and water, and we left her to nap. I feel bad thinking her poor drug-addled hissing and wobbling to be adorable, but it really is. She's never this cuddly, and I'm going to milk it for all it's worth.

A few hours later I went to visit her, and she immediately, if slowly, climbed into my lap and went back to sleep. She's so tiny. It's like somehow her uterus took up most of the space inside her tiny cat body, and now I can see her ribs and I'm wondering whether we should leave her on the kitten food longer than we'd planned, because she needs the extra fat and nutrients. Henry needs diet food. 'Nuff said.

So anyway, quite pleased. Wildly in love with my lady cat, and happy to have had her spayed without needing to live on dirt and ramen for weeks. Yes, it took a month to get an appointment, and yes, all the rules and inflexibility is a little scary. Bottom line: It only cost $45 to have my cat spayed. I opted for the $5 optional pain meds and $10 an Elizabethan collar, in case she starts to lick or chew her stitches, bringing the grand total to $60, which is about ten times cheaper than the vet wanted for the same thing. I am glad she is home, and that we never have to do this again.

Update: It's Friday and Emma is tired, but fine. Out and about, not quite romping yet, but posing a serious threat to my houseplants once again.

Hallo, Ich bin [email lies]

I've put off the post I was going to write about this week's adventures (still no beach pictures. Sorry, I've been busy) to share with you the email I just received. Please note that it is entirely in German. As near as I can tell, (Babelfish tells me) it says that Dr. David Green is an account manager at a bank in England, and that a "Jew from Mexico" was recently killed in a helicopter crash with his wife, son, daughter-in-law, and pilot, and has left me all his money. Well, that's splendid. All my problems are solved. Wait, except... riddle me this: If a Mexican using a British bank left me, a French-American, all his money, why is this email in German? Sigh. Points for creativity.

"Hallo,
Ich bin Dr. David Green Accounting Manager Audit-Abteilung einer Bank aus Harlsden, North West London, hier in England (NatWest Bank). Ich schreibe Dir über einen geschäftlichen Vorschlag, dass ein immenser Vorteil für uns beide werden. In meiner Abteilung, wobei der Auditor Greater London Regional Office, entdeckte ich einen Betrag von 15 Millionen Pfund (fünfzehn Millionen Pfund Sterling) in einem Konto, das Sie mit einem unserer ausländischen Kunden gehört Late Business Mogul Mr. Moises Saba Masri ein Milliardär, ein Jude aus Mexiko, dass Opfer von einem Hubschrauberabsturz wurde Anfang dieses Jahres, ihn zu töten und ihre Familienangehörigen. Saba war 47 Jahre alt. Auch in der Chopper zum Zeitpunkt des Absturzes war seine Frau, ihr Sohn Avraham (Albert) und seine Tochter-in-law und der Pilot wurde ebenfalls getötet.
Die Wahl der Kontaktaufnahme mit Ihnen ist aus der geographischen Natur, wo Sie leben erweckt, insbesondere wegen der Sensibilität der Transaktion und die Vertraulichkeit hier. Jetzt ist unsere Bank hat für keine der Verwandten zu kommen-up für die Behauptung, aber niemand getan hat, dass das Warten. Ich persönlich wurden bei der Suche die Verwandten erfolglos. Ich suche Ihre Zustimmung an Sie als nächsten Angehörigen / Berechtigte an den Verstorbenen, so dass der Erlös aus diesem Konto auf 15 Mio. Pfund für Sie bezahlt werden kann präsentieren.

Dies wird ausgezahlt oder geteilt in diese Prozentsätze, 60% bis 40% mir und zu dir, alles was ich brauche ist es, geben Sie Ihren Namen zu den Dokumenten und legalisieren sie vor dem Gericht hier, um Sie als berechtigten Empfänger nachweisen. Alles, was ich jetzt verlangen, ist Ihre ehrliche Zusammenarbeit, Diskretion und Vertrauen, damit wir sehen diese Verhandlung durch. Ich garantiere Ihnen, dass dies unter einer legitimen Anordnung, dass Sie aus einer Verletzung des Gesetzes schützt ausgeführt wird. Bitte stellen Sie mir die folgenden, wie wir 7 Tage bis es durchlaufen haben. Dies ist sehr dringend BITTE.
1. Vollständiger Name:
2. Direct Mobile Number:
3. Kontaktadresse:
4. Telefon:
5. Beruf / Position:
6. Name der Firma:
7. Nationalität:
8. Fax Number:
Nachdem gegangen durch eine methodische Suche entschied ich mich, mit Ihnen Kontakt aufnehmen in der Hoffnung, dass Sie diesen Vorschlag interessant finden. Bitte auf Ihrer Bestätigung dieser Nachricht und zeigt Ihr Interesse erhalten Sie weitere Informationen zu liefern. Endeavor mich wissen zu lassen, anstatt Ihre Entscheidung Keep Me Waiting.
Ich danke Ihnen im Voraus für Ihre positive Antwort, so dass wir mit diesem Geschäftsvorfall kann beginnen.
Mit besten Grüßen,
Dr. David Green
Manager Accounting Audit Department."

Rehobeth,DE

Glorious, beautiful day at the beach. Happy mini-vacation to me!
Covered in a delightful beachy crust of sunscreen, salt, and sand.
Also bought a giant hat.

Sent from my iPod

Leftover Cheeseburger

There is something deeply satisfying about leftover cheeseburger for breakfast, instead of my usual instant oatmeal.

I bought Charlaine Harris' newest Sookie Stackhouse novel, Dead in the Family (#10) on Friday evening, and finished it by Sunday, which is mostly depressing, because it'll be a year before I get another one, and they're so stupidly delightful. Night Watch is interesting, but much more serious, and entirely without vampires and were-beasts.

Daddy sent me home with all the leftovers from our family Memorial Day barbecue on Saturday, so the 'fridge is full of 'brats and corn and coleslaw, which can't help but eat like summer. Strawberries.

It's been too hot to do my hair, so I've just been spraying it with curl stuff and letting it air dry. This saves me gobs of time. On weekdays, I've learned that this means ten extra minutes of sleep, five minutes of quality time in the kitchen to make coffee and pet my cats, leaving ten minutes earlier than normal, and five minutes of general time loss, because I have no other way to account for those missing minutes.

Yesterday was an epically productive day, alone in the office. My boss is away at a conference/on vacation, and my boss-boss is in China. My co-worker comes back from vacation today, and will (thankfully) resume her duties doing those things I hate doing while she's gone (cough monitoring the general support email account cough).

I am leaving work promptly at noon to install myself at the pool. Ah, bi-weekly half-day, you are great.

Thursday.

Oh, no! A week without posting! I spent a lot of time at my desk actually working, which isn't always so. Anyway, things to know about this week:

It was very humid most of the time.
The August issue is almost finished.
I have managed to maintain strict kitchen neatness, in spite of the boyfriend and both cats.
Started reading Sarah Waters' The Night Watch.
My pool passes have not yet arrived, and if they do not appear in the mailbox tomorrow, I will cut a bitch.
My very best friend lost her handsome orange cat to feline leukemia, and there was nothing anyone could do.

Things about this weekend:

I will get to sit by the pool even if it means killing someone.
Making my not-yet-famous-but-someday-it-will-be guacamole for bbq at mom & dad's.
Maybe will try to squeeze in a high-heeled showing of SATC2, once it's too dark at the pool, and all the quac is gone.
No, that's it. Pool, quac, maybe a movie. That is how my weekend is going to go.

Fin.

A Re-Upholdstering Adventure in Several Acts: Two

Victory! I am the crafty person I always just assumed myself to be! Thanks to G Street Fabrics for the "this color goes so well with your skin tone; you're a sweet girl" 20% discount on the silk dupioni, the protagonist of our story.

Tools: Scissors, staple gun.

Materials: previously-mentioned green silk dupioni, cotton batting.

 Resulting telephone table in my living room / proof that I can successfully assess and execute craftiness:

I'll staple gun any cat that goes near the silk dupioni.

A Re-Upholstering Adventure in Several Acts: One

New Craigslist find: this beautiful telephone table for $30 (flowers courtesy of my guy, TS). It may be a little rough around the edges, but it's gorgeous... except for the fabric covering the seat. That's a cheap-looking faded red, tattered at the edges. TS pulled the wonky orange cat off it yesterday citing unauthorized chewing. Eww.

Detail of the rosette carved into the back of the chair:

 The seat is removable with four screws (three, in reality) and I assumed that re-upholstery would be a breeze, because I fancy myself crafty: cotton batting, staple gun, beautiful fabric. Well, I wandered around G Street Fabrics for over an hour, looking for a fabric to speak my name. I originally planned on a blue or green velvet, but all the velvets were either boring or gaudy. The brocade I liked was $60/yd, which is absolutely out of the question, even if I only need one yard. Finally I found a green silk dupioni for $30/yd. I demured, because an hour of fruitless searching can weaken one's resolve (that, and the look from the salesperson after confessing that you want something that seems luxe, and yet relatively cat-proof), and took home a swatch to hold up against my chair and consider:

Gorgeous, right? That's exactly what I think. It's stunning, and it matches the green wing chairs in the living room. It's looks amazing against the wood. I'm going back tomorrow, and also buying a staple gun. And stapling any cat that so much as looks at my green silk dupioni.

Wednesday: More Coffeeshop

It's 2pm on Wednesday and I am shocked by the number of people in this coffeeshop. I'm here because it's my magical bi-weekly half day. Why are the rest of you here? Do you even have jobs?

I wonder the same thing when I read other blogs. I'm currently blog-stalking a girl I knew in high school, and she seems to never actually work. Her life is an endless series of gorgeous photos of charming activities in which she partakes with her family, friends, and dog. How does she have the money to live the way she does? Golfing, wine festivals, trips to Maine, the energy/time to bake. I don't understand.

Monday: Coffeeshop Edition

Dinner at Cosi. Not particularly exciting, except that quality coffeeshop time is hard to come by in my life. I am looking forward to my chicken t.b.m. (tomato, basil, and mozzarella) sandwhich, and tomato basil soup. I am looking forward to finishing my book review, but really that means I ought to start it. Mmm, dear Cosi, why is the cabernet chilled?

Fuck You, Flowers

thebigcaption:

Fuck You, Flowers.

original

A Sunday Unplanned

Cleaned the kitchen and dining room, top to bottom, including the long-anticipated pantry-cabinet reorganization of victory. Now almost all food items live in the pantry, and all dishware, bakeware, Tupperware items live in the cabinets. I've been dreaming of this day. No, really. Finally put up the wine rack my guy got me for my birthday. Planted the tiny plants he gave me for Valentine's Day. Basically, I did all the things that have been haunting me in the kitchen and dining room.

Next up: Email the landlord and ask if I can repaint the bathroom. I'm over the sickly yellow tinge. I'm thinking lavender, or pale blue -- something to offset the yellow lighting and gold fixtures. Is there some kind of spray paint that will turn gold fixtures into chrome?

A Summer Wardrobe

Every so often, I completely revamp my wardrobe. A function of the seasons, gifts, mood, my bank account, sometimes I reload, so to speak, and create a whole new, but complementary, look. My guy's mother sent me a Kate Spade bag from Nordstrom's for my 25th birthday. It was completely unexpected, and when I first unwrapped it, I eyed it suspiciously. It's my first 'brand name' bag. It took a few days for me to realize how 'me' the bag really is, and how it matches 95% of my wardrobe, effortlessly. Anyway, this is a sampling of my style at the moment; I'm totally in love with jersey maxi dresses, and jersey not-maxi dresses, and cardigans / shrugs of all kinds. I live in my faux-pearl earrings and matching bracelets, so look for those in future Polyvore posts. Flat sandals, big bags, statement jewelry, and I promise, always a pair of sunglasses -- this is how I will take the coming summer by storm. 

A White Dress is a White Dress?

Do you like the dress Sarah Jessica Parker is wearing in the Sex and the City 2 movie poster? You can get it from Neiman Marcus for $325, here. Or, you can get it from Macy's for $59, here AND see it on a less stick-like model, too.  Hmm, $266 cheaper and some realism thrown in for fun! Thanks, Macy's (although I wish whomever styled the shot had put her in a larger size, to get the same drapy, flowy look of the NM photo).

Delicious Tacos

... In which leftover summer salad makes a fine substitute for taco toppings!

The salad topping can be done up to a day ahead and refrigerated in an airtight container. I found that letting it sit overnight brings out a stronger flavor.

Serves 4.

2 large garlic cloves, pressed

1 cup diced tomatoes

1 cup baby spinach, chopped

½ cup diced red onion

3 tablespoons chopped pitted green olives

1 jalapeño chile, seeded, finely chopped (about 4 teaspoons)

2 Bob Evans 32 oz. Zesty Hot sausage rolls.

8-10 taco shells

Goat cheese

Fat free sour cream

Black pepper and salt to taste

 ____________

Mix together the first six ingredients in a medium bowl.

In a large skillet, brown the sausage, breaking up the roll in the pan with a wooden spoon.

Bake/heat the taco shells according to package instructions shortly before you plan to eat.

Fill the bottom 1/3 of the taco shell with sausage, and then as much salad as desired over it. Top with sour cream, goat cheese, or both!

Things That Are Delightful; Things to Share

A blog: of sunlight, furniture, photographs, food, clothes, and, probably, my kittens; to chronicle the good things, the pretty things, the things that remind me of me; as a guide to Ms. Mary Katherine's sense of style, sense of humor, sense of self.