Cat-a-tonic

Little Trixy cat has not been doing very well as of late. She has contracted some sort of virus from only heaven knows where and is a walking germ-fest these days. Upon entering her presence, you are immediately assaulted with the festering disease smell that has been permeating our basement for the last month. She is mucous personified. It is everywhere and comes out of every opening, from her nose, from her eyes, even from the other end....*shudder* she drips and sneezes every second of the blasted day.

Because of the infection that runs rampant with Trix-a-deliah, we have been forced to bathe her every two or three days in order to combat the stank of it all. And because I would rather deal with the pitiful yowling that Trixy peppers her bath time with, than deal with the flying paws of fury that Sugar gouges my husband with, I volunteered for this one. So I hauled her upstairs and plopped her down into the sink in the bathroom. After scrubbing down her matted fur, I started working on the driedonsnot that practically obscurs her tiny nostrils. Even after repeated attempts to dissolve it off with warm water, it still wouldn’t budge. So, I took hold of my courage and the edge of the snot rock, and ripped it off like a scabbed over wound. Chaos ensued. Trix freaked out and started yowling and attempting to escape, and I was unable to contain myself. Gag, retch, puke.

After said bath time was over, I wearily told Scotland that we really needed to do something about “that cat.” So, my darling husband took it upon himself to make an appointment for her with the vet to determine what can be done to dry up the (stinky little slimeball) precious thing.

Blood work, shots, and one hundred and fifty dollars later, we had a (practically) new cat with clear eyes and lovely little bald spot on her neck. They (husband + cat) were sent home with various remedies and tonics for her ills. Diagnosis? Calici, a feline virus. WhatdidItellyou? Doctor K, right here.

Now what I want to know is, can we use our health savings account for vet bills? Since that cat is the closest thing we have to a kid? I’m just sayin is all....

**

Horrible nightmare the other night. Discovered (in my dream) that I had a one year old child, but I had missed the whole first year. Because I had been catatonic for the duration of the pregnancy and year one of life. This is just another in the long line of strange baby dreams I have been experiencing as of late. I’ll put that one rightnext to the dream that my sister gave birth to twin rabbits, who later turned into (matured into?) human babies. On the brain, much? Oh the horror of it all!

Delusions of stature

Even wearing three inch heels, I am dwarfed by him!

Walking with KJ the other day, she mentioned that she has a tendency to assume everyone around her is the same height as her. (Have I mentioned she is 5’10?) I started noticing that I do the same thing and find myself astonished when someone tells me their actual height. One of the women at work told me that she was only 5’2 and my mouth dropped open. How could she possibly be four inches shorter than me?!?!? And how could KJ be four inches taller than me?!?!?

Several years ago, it occurred to me that all of the women in my family are pretty much the same height. That in combination with the relatively short stature of my dad (for a guy) made height a non issue at my house. And then I moved back from Portland and found a giant in place of my formerly normal sized brother. Somehow while I was gone playing for a year in Oregon, he shot up to six feet. He looked like one of those mirrors in the fun house that makes you look all stretched out and crazy thin. Then all of a sudden I was very aware of the height (or lack of it) in my family.

So while pondering the matter of height, I asked myself

Does someone’s height change your perspective of the person?

*laugh*

Well yes, that may seem silly. Of course it changes your visual perspective, because I don’t believe I have seen the top of my brother’s head for quite some time now. But I suppose I mean your opinion/perspective of the person. Do you think of them differently?

Sometimes I forget that my brother is as young as he is. It is hard to feel like the big sister when you hug him and get a face full of upper chest and shoulders that I cannot see over. Sometimes I assume he is just barely younger than me (even though there is an eight year age difference. Eight years! But he will always be younger because of course I am sooooo much more responsible than he is). And most of the time I assume that someone who under five feet tall must be really young.

***

In my college days, I dated a guy that towered over me at 6’5. A year or so later I saw him at the mall with a 4’8 girl with braces and red hair. It was one of those awkward “Oh is this your baby sister/step daughter?” “No this is my wife” kind of moments that I filed away for the occasional chuckle.

***

Someday, I hope to have tall sons that I can hug and feel dwarfed by them. Someday I hope to have daughters the same height as me so they can peruse my closet for clothes and shoes like my sisters and I did to my mother’s closet. What goes around comes around, right mom?

Catharsis

I’m not going to lie. This weekend was hard. But as always, there were blessings in the trials. And today I feel much better.

Saturday we purchased a couch off of craigslist. It was a bit hectic being that we don’t have a truck available at the current moment for hauling said couch. So Scotland had to scout around for a friend with an appropriate vehicle. He went to the sellers house, picked up the couch with the assistance of his bff, Todd and then brought it to our house. After tossing the pillows and cushions on, he left with Todd.

While he was gone, I surfed the internet for a while and came across some very difficult to read posts. You know what I am talking about right? The type of post that makes you want to just break down and cry for that person, where you ache for their struggle, and in this particular case, where I identified with it.

Fast forward three hours, when my dear husband comes home and wonders what happened to make his perfectly-fine-when-he-left wife into the has-been-crying-for-the-last-three-hours-and-is-now-completely-puffy-eyed wife.

And the next morning? When I was supposed to be getting ready to go to church?

Crying. Uncontrollably.

And then he suggested something that I am sure he only regarded as ordinary.

Why don’t you try writing it down. That might help.

Yes. Pages and pages later, I felt better. Not whywasIcryingoversomethingsostupid better, but okIcandealwiththis better.

He knows me so well.

Then I gathered my courage and decided to be a real person again. I got dressed, washed my face and brushed my hair. I broke out the mixer and made a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. With both white chocolate and milk chocolate. I made dinner for us. And I felt better.

And that night, after watching a silly movie with my darling husband, we sat in bed and laughed and laughed with each other, pajama party style. And we finally called a truce to the tickle war at one in the morning.

And that is why I love my husband and I love being married. Because he is the blessing in the midst of my trial.

----------


Post Edit:

Would you like to see some of the cookies? They were super yummy, and Scotland really liked them. Big nerd, I know, I take pictures of my food....

When I grow up

Recently, Scotland and I have been discussing his future at his current job.

You know the type of questions I am referring too:

Do I want to keep doing what I am doing?

Do I want to move onto somewhere else and do the same thing?

Do I want to move onto somewhere else and do something different?

and, the inevitable,

Do I want to go back to school?

For what I think is the first time in my life, I didn't automatically give the "whatever makes you happiest" answer. Not because I don't want my husband to be happy, please don't think that. Because now someone else's life choices affect me in a direct way.

Welcome to marriage, right?

I hate to use my own words, but now, more than before, it's complicated. If he goes back to school or changes professions, more questions are raised.

How will we pay for it?

How will we pay our bills?

Will this choice require us to put off having children?

What will I need to do in order to become the primary breadwinner?

You see? Complicated.

More than anything, I want us to be happy. I want us to achieve our goals and dreams and make the most of the limited time that God has given us. And I don't want regrets.

The reexamination of my husbands wants and needs for the future also made me question my own.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

And I really had to think about it.

It's different now than when you were a kid and wanted to be a doctor or firefighter or a police officer. Now you know the details that make the decision more difficult. Now you know the schooling required, the pay, the hours, the dangers.

But I was still only able to narrow it down to two things.

Things that I really enjoy doing. Writing and taking pictures.

I love writing. I love molding the words and phrases I am using to describe exactly what I am getting at. I love putting the voice in my head out on paper (or screen) to see. But also? I have discovered that I love taking photos. I see something in my mind, I see the beauty or simplicity, and while it is still a struggle for me, I want to capture it. I work to capture it. And when I do?

Bliss. Joy. Satisfaction.

But could I do it?

Could I take either one of those and turn it into a profession?

And what would that do to me?

Would my enjoyment of those activities cease to exist

because it has made the transition from a hobby to a job?

I don't know.

Dead woman walking

Feel like I am sleepwalking today.

Dead on my feet.

Vaguely aware of happenings around me.

Time on your hands

This is what happens when my family has time to kill.

Broken Disneyland ride = lots of random pictures.

Drive by donuts

My friend KJ and I went walking at the mall earlier. I know, hold your grandma jokes please. But it seems in the balmy 30 degree weather we have been having, outdoor activities remain slightly elusive to those of us that are warm blooded. So naturally we have rejected the usual response to those desiring physical activity in the dead of winter (joining a gym) and taken the high road of free heat and a sometimes not so desirable scenery. She brought along her munchkin, a doll of a baby boy who is pretty much the most well behaved baby I have ever seen in my life, and I brought along my unfiltered questions about the nitty gritty of giving birth. Seeing as she is pretty much an expert in my mind (had a kid, plus remembers the experience, sorry mom) I spend the majority of our circles pestering her to tell me all the horrible details about pregnancy, birth and the life of a new mom. She responds in kind with her always witty and refreshingly truth filled stories about the ins and outs of her experience and the stories she knows of others. It is a rather delightful dish session, and I adore that no question is out of bounds for her.

On a side note, the most entertaining shopping patrons of the evening were the various hoodlums wearing the gangsta style pants and puffy coats, with at least one escorting his very pregnant baby mama along. Other entertaining individuals included the 60 something year old beanpole of a man with high water corduroy's who was furiously walking in the opposite direction, the smattering of parents with glazed over eyes, looking like they needed to get out of their house while following toddlers as they wandered about aimlessly, and the skaters with the hacky sac game going on until some uncaring security guard in too tight pants broke it up (Come'on man!).

Whilst we strolled along on our route watching the personalities around us, I was reminded of three things.

Shall I?

1. This is why I don't go to the mall to shop.

2. People are weird.

and

3. Pretzel maker and the donut shop make me hungry.

Which, ironically is not the reaction you want when you are exercising. I thus surmised two (more) things.

1. People that have money join a gym because otherwise they would spend on donuts and pretzels and cute green and brown purses while they walk past them eight times in an hour.

And

2. People that don't have money don't have to worry about either of those things.

So while I pondered my quandary of wanting what I can't have, we finished our hour of walking and went to the cars. After tucking the munchkin in his place in the back seat, KJ was just folding up her stroller when we were gifted precious little gems by a fleeting donut angel.

See, because KJ knows, like, everyone in this town, including the donut makers and their son, he thought to bestow upon us the overabundance that he was left with at closing time. Two, count them TWO bags of mini donuts were placed into our surprised hands, and he left as quickly as he had appeared, a donut angel in the (mall parking lot) night.

How very sweet. Being that we probably did not look hungry or homeless, I cannot say the reason that such luck came upon us that night, but we said our goodbyes and parted ways for the evening.

And on the drive home, I looked at the cute little white bag of donuts and thought how happy my dear husband would be when I presented him with such a cute little treat in penance for ditching him for an hour with KJ.

And then I pulled in the driveway and crumpled up the empty white bakery bag, throwing it away and wiping the cinnamon sugar off my lips before guiltily kissing my husband hello.

A woman only has so much self control.

-----------------------------

Post Edit

Scotland finally came to bed at one am, and woke me up in the process. My groggy confession came out.

Me ~ "I ate your donuts."
Him ~ "I didn't have any donuts."
Me ~ "Yeah" pause "But you would have."

he was pretty confused, and asked me where I bought them

Me ~ "Somebody gave them to me."
Him ~ "KJ?"
Me ~ "No, some guy."
Him ~ "What, so now you take candy from strangers?"
Me ~ "Um...*giggle*... yeah I guess so."

Fights

We don't fight very much. We really don't. Which I love. I mean really, who wants to go their whole life in cycles of being mad at the person that they love?

But I admit that yesterday was not good. We started arguing about a future event, something that is so distant it is not even on the calendar yet. So far away, it is only hypothetical. And yet, we are both so incredibly stubborn that we occasionally "lock horns" and are stuck at an impasse.

What the fight was about is not important. That is not why I chose to tell you about it. I don't want validation, sympathy or anything like that. I want to tell you how it ended.

Did we compromise and come to an agreement? No.

But there we were, argument dismissed(for the current time, who knows if it will come up again) and heading to the movies for our FHE activity. In the darkness of the car as we drove down the street, he reached over and put his hand on my knee.

I'm sorry, he said.

And several blocks passed while I contemplated my feelings.

I'm sorry too, I replied.

Does it change our individual and differing stances on the subject? No.

Did it allow us to move on and enjoy our evening together? Yes.

Can I tell you a secret? Something that I am a teensy bit ashamed of?

He always says it first. He is always ready to make up, apologise and move on. He is always the first to get over it. Even when it he is the one that gets mad, I won't even know what is going on until he apologises for being upset.

He is so much better than I am.

It takes me a while. Time is necessary to ask myself those probing, deeper, sometimes painful questions.

Why am I feeling this way? What response was I wanting? Am I mad at him, or the situation?

And even after searching for those answers, sometimes I am still too overcome with stubborn pride. And I can't say it for a very long time.

But I am working on that. That's why we are on this earth, right? To learn to be better? Some of us just have farther to go than others.

--------------

PS: The movie we saw was somewhat lame. I really tried to like it, I did! It has two of my favorite "up and coming" actors in it, Amy Adams and Matthew Goode, but their comedy timing was just the tiniest bit off. Just my two cents!

A bad weekend for light fixtures...

It was a bad weekend to be a light fixture at my house. . . very bad.

It was also a bad weekend to stand under a light fixture at my house. Like my own personal brand of bad luck, the ladder version of asking for it...

I helped Scotland hang up a fluorescent light fixture above my washing machine. I walked out from underneath it, and it gave way, violently crashing down where I had been standing only seconds before.

I was not pleased. Grateful to not have to go to the hospital for the groove it most certainly would have cut in my skull, but nonetheless, not pleased.

The next evening, my dad was helping Scotland with a different type of light fixture. It also came crashing to the ground, but this one shattered into a million and one pieces.

This one I didn't mind so much. It was one of those spendy eco bulbs, so that kinda sucks, but at least no one's life was in imminent danger.

*Sigh* So much for the home improvements...

Introducing....

The new and vastly improved "It's Complicated" Banner and Background!

This was an effort to bring a more cohesive look to the blog while using a modern plus vintage look. Hope you like it. I certainly do...

Light and Dark

The presence or absence of light has a tendency to change my mood. I find myself 72.8% happier on sunny days than cloudy days. I love bright sunshine streaming in my window when I clean the house. It motivates me, drives me, and generally perks me up.

All of that being said, you can probably understand why I didn't stay very long in rainy drizzly Portland.

I am ready for the days to be longer again. I struggle with the winter hours of darkness. I long for the summer days when the sun is just starting to go to bed at 9:00 pm. I want to go camping, and swimming and walking outside.

Give me the desert heat and the long days.

Anyone else out there having cabin fever? Or is it just me?

An excursion to the shops on memory lane

A few days ago my husband asked me how long it had been since I bought some new clothing for myself. Not because he thinks I am lacking in personal style or crisp clothing, mind you. But rather, because he knows how much fun finding a sweet little skirt or that perfect shirt is for me. So last night, while he was working late, I found myself perusing the shops around town. I went to three or four stores, pushing my way through racks stuffed with cloth of all colors and shapes.


It was heaven.


Yes, I bought something. Yes, I was able to keep it under thirty bucks. Yes I am blissfully happy today wearing one thing I bought and dreaming about wearing the other thing.

But strangely enough, that is not why it was wonderful.

As I was in the dressing room, trying on piece after piece, I started giggling to myself. Some things I tried on for fun, even though I knew at first sight that I would never buy them. Shall I tell you about them?

Dresses. Not so much a fan of dresses. Give me skirts any day. But on a lark, I decided to peruse the dress racks and pull, oh six or so out to give them a try....And oh my stars, I loved them! They were kooky and hippy and retro fun! Some of them skimmed my tummy with their A line shapes, some had daringly plunging necklines, some were (gasp!) mid calf length! Purple, black, red, and even an apple green one, with various shapes and patterns. It was so much fun to be silly and imagine myself greeting my husband at the door wearing the retro purple one with some 50's hairstyle and a bun in the oven...I couldn't help laughing.

And then, I really got to thinking about how much I used to love to go shopping with my sisters. (Not that I still don't love shopping with them, I just don't get the chance like I used to.) We would all browse the racks together, finding items for ourselves and others. Occasionally one of us would hold up some particularly funny looking article and we would burst into peals of laughter as we threw out raucous complements "Ooohhh, yeah, that is secksy!" and "that mummu is hot!" to each other. We didn't care who was watching or listening and we would cart our items to the dressing rooms and chit-chat while changing, and then let the others inspect each item for fit and fashion. I never worried about buying something horrendous while I was with them, because they would never be shy about giving you the truth and nothing but the truth, good or bad....

And even though I don't get to have them along for my shopping trips very much these days due to the physical distance between us, I still think about those excursions. As I breezed out of the store last night, it was like I had them right beside me, laughing and talking as we headed out to the car. Jami's voice was in my head telling me she loved the white skirt and would definitely be borrowing it sometime soon, Jodi skipped on ahead with her new pairs of jeans, and Kari was very pleased that we had gotten such great deals.

Come shopping with me sometime, will ya? I miss my seesters.

Distract me not

Picture by Jesslyn Bates

Lately, I have had an especially hard time maintaining my focus. I am not talking about just that annoying thing where you walk into a room for some purpose and by the time you get there you have forgotten why you went. I am talking full on can't remember three seconds ago what you said you would do. (Maybe I have a brain tumor?) (maybe not...) I really have no idea why I can't seem to stay focused these days. Some times I feel like I just woke up and looked around wondering where the heck I am. Poor husband has had to put up with this a lot lately, including me forgetting I am cooking dinner and burning the meat, as well as forgetting I put laundry in the washer and it smelling like moldy cotton days later. I will go to look something up on the Internet, only to find that ten minutes later I have not only forgotten what I was going to find, but also the three other thoughts I had right after that. Good grief!

Days like this I am glad that we are not in this world alone. I am grateful for an ever patient father in heaven who can guide us when we are lost in the wilderness. With all the distractions that the world throws at us, it is truly only by grace that we can keep going in the right direction.

Do we need an excuse to go on another date?

As newlyweds (6.5 months is still newlywed, right?) my husband and I have been striving to establish a very solid date night. Something so solid that we will continue it in the midst of the crazy madness that is parenting when we get to that point.

That is our goal.

When we came up with this goal, I thought to myself

This is going to be cake.

Every night is practically date night as it is,

so this is just going to be an easy way

to get his attention for the evening

and do something together.

And so our "family goal" commenced.

Fast forward to the third week. Rearrange the scheduled Friday night date to Thursday night due to crowds at the restaurant we wanted to hit. Friday night shopping-trip-to-the-mall date. Saturday night group date with my parents/John to get root beer floats. Monday night, go get a movie and treat.

And naturally, I thought to myself

It's kind of funny that

anytime we go anywhere

we call it a date.

Other people included or not.

And since we are on a roll here, I think I will keep going with it. We stay in too much as it is. And there are things we need to accomplish

List of ideas for future reference:

Go to the temple date
Go to the library date
Go to the pet store for kitty litter date
Go grocery shopping date
Go clean the office date
Go buy paint at Home Depot and paint the guest room....date

As long as I include some form of a treat, he shouldn't notice, right???