I’ve completely forgotten how to write and I don’t have any ideas about anything.
I do, however, have a collection of crafts and a pile of new gadgets. I got teased by most of my friends, but I couldn’t help it. Pencils down, hobbies up.
During the strike, I was often reminded of an Onion piece that came out after 9/11: “Not Knowing What Else To Do, Woman Bakes American Flag Cake.”
I knitted scarves. I sewed dresses, shirts, blouses, and fabric scarves (named “Scarfish,” and also declared both “uncomfy” and “weird.” But the first one I made, for Anna Beth, was a huge success, because it got the AB Chao stamp of approval).
I made little fabric dolls for a friend’s 35th birthday, catnip-filled toys, hand-embroidered bags (one was my strike bag — small enough to wear every day while picketing), skirts, and passport covers. Yes, passport covers. Also, I learned that ripped t-shirts don’t make very good fabric for knitting, unless you are making some kind of floor rug.
I made a book sculpture, a jar full of japanese paper stars, and on one particularly low day I attempted origami swans. Continue reading
You’ll love this one.
Taylor’s compulsive licking has hit a new high. And Cal is acting like the craziest cat of all time. Related? Probably not.
After quite a few tests it has been determined that Taylor has: allergies. Continue reading
“You know, it’s his other leg this time.”
That’s what the vet told me when I brought Taylor in. It’s his other leg that’s injured. And as Taylor hissed and growled in my arms and the vet gave me this look, I felt like the worst pet owner in the world. How did I not notice that the limp had gotten better and then shifted to the other leg?
I asked if it’d be best to put the cast on him this time, so he didn’t keep injuring himself. The doctor said that the rest he was doing on his own was probably for the best, and since Taylor gets himself so worked up when he’s unhappy in the slightest (fur was flying around the room as he said this), he’d rather prescribe some pain medication and take a look again in two weeks. Continue reading
A couple of smaller problems, anyway.
I’ve got two glasses stuck together. One is a small, square glass. It’s trapped inside a larger mug. I found them in the cabinet this way, and they are very much in love and don’t want to be separated.
When the weather turns cold, these cats hate how much they love each other. And if they loved me just a little less, perhaps I wouldn’t have woken up with a twisted neck from playing Lady Bendy around their bodies all night.
I don’t think I can accurately describe how much cat puke I just picked up.
It’s one in the morning. I’m currently staring at Taylor, watching him drink water, waiting to make sure he’s not about to go into some kind of seizure.
At my last job there were many new parents, the kind who often spent from three in the morning until six in the morning awake with their babies. There was absolutely no sympathy for a girl like me — the one who didn’t get home until midnight because she was rehearsing a comedy show, woke up because of cats puking at five and then wrote a few pages of her novel before we had to be on the set. My life is nothing but easy living, as far as they were concerned.
I’m thinking of those guys tonight because I’m bone tired, but I’m afraid if I fall asleep my cat will die and it will be all my fault because I knew he wasn’t feeling well.
We can’t seem to get his glucose regulated, to the point where the vet is currently “doing some research” to figure out what to do to keep us from having to give Taylor insulin three times a day. I’m not sure how the hell we’d be able to administer insulin shots three times a day unless I am somehow able to convince my animal-adverse co-worker into having an office cat. Continue reading
Taylor is a weird cat. Always has been. He’s strangely anti-social, but then will hang out in a room and stare at everyone. He likes to eat carpeting, wool, and thick blanketing. He doesn’t like to eat food if someone’s watching him. He waits until everyone goes to bed before settling into his bowl. I’m used to all of this as part of Taylor’s weird way of life.
But he’s started licking his “elbows,” for lack of a better word, to the point that he’s causing sores, and the fur has rubbed away. I took him to the vet, who diagnosed him with OCD. Continue reading
iz me, taylor!
Well, zee autumn winds are in zee air. Which I HATE! I hate zee winds! Hate them! It does not matter what season they are representing, yes? I despise zee wind and wish that it would stay out of my home. It makes my fur rumple up and that takes a long time to lick down, no?