Xena’s Birthday!

Today is Xena’s second birthday!

When Frankie and I moved to this apartment, one of the first things that we knew that we wanted was to get a dog. We didn’t even look at an apartment that wouldn’t let us have one.

After a month or two of settling in to the apartment and getting used to the neighborhood, we set out on the hunt. We looked around at a bunch of different adoption agencies and finally settled on Pibbles & More Animal Rescue. We loved what we saw from them. They rescue puppies and dogs from high kill shelters, foster them in a loving home, and then adopt them out. They also paid to have the dogs microchipped, which we thought was super great.

When we started to look for the puppies they had up for adoption, we saw this face.

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We were in love. There were a few other puppies that we thought were cute, but everything about the puppy named “Leah” called out to us with every furry fiber of her being.

We spent the next few days waiting with baited breath to hear back from PMAR about our baby. When we did, we were thrilled. We drove up to New Jersey and met up with the foster parents and our sweet little girl.

Since we brought her home, she has brought so much joy into our lives. Every day she is sillier and sweeter and more wonderful. She is our cuddle buddy. Our weird little girl. Our velcro dog.

Happy birthday, little fuzzy girl! I love you!

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Day Three: The en-itchening. Moving. And other minutiae.

Day three of tattoo recovery for me is the day that things stop feeling like sunburn and start feeling like dry, itchy skin.

So that’s just a joy to deal with. Not that I’m bemoaning my quick healing powers, but the itching is no fun at all.

We spent Frankie’s birthday having brunch, perusing used book stores, and buying video games. And then playing them until three in the morning. All in all, time well spent.

Today there will be bowling. Which I will attempt despite my itching back and current inability to wear a bra in public. The things we do for love.

This week we really need to get a large chunk of our packing done. We have two weeks until the move as of today. It’s always amazing to me how my procrastination works. It goes like this most of the time:

Step 1: Resolve to get a thing done.
Step 2: Start that thing and get a lot done.
Step 3: Get distracted and wander off.
Step 4: Count the days until the thing needs to be done.
Step 5: Do the rest of the thing at the last possible moment.

That is how moving has been. We have a bedroom full of boxes which are mostly books from the game room. But we haven’t done any packing since that first day. I mean, it’s good that that stuff is done, but we really need to buckle down and put things in boxes basically every night this week if we are going to avoid packing like maniacs the night before, which nobody wants to do. We certainly don’t want to be those people who pack while the movers are there. That’s unacceptable.

I’ve really been enjoying writing in my blog everyday for the NoMo challenge at Yeah Write. I hope you all have been happy to read what I’ve been putting out there.

Some thoughts on Frankie’s birthday.

Today is Frankie’s birthday.

This is the third time that I have been with her on her birthday. And one of the best things about it – and about her in general – is how happy and excited she gets about parties and gifts and special things that we don’t get to do all the time.

One problem with this is that I can almost never resist giving her gifts when they are in the house for me to give. Because her joy is such a beautiful thing to me. Making her smile is the best part of my day.

So here is a message for Frankie on her birthday.

It’s been three birthdays now and you still make me smile every day. Your intelligence delights me. Your smile thrills me. You make every day with you fun and challenging and fulfilling. From making sure that we both eat healthily to creating a great environment for our puppy and taking care of the kitties, you make life so easy.

Thank you for always thinking of me. For being considerate and blunt. For being my cheerleader all the time. You are the best and I love you with my whole heart.

Thank you for making wherever I am feel like home all the time.

Here’s to many more birthdays together.

Being a grown up is pretty fucking great

My birthday is coming up (this weekend, the 19th, feel free to send cash) and that has gotten me thinking about all kinds of things. About adulthood and childishness and death and all that good stuff. So here’s a rambling list of some stuff I’m thinking about as I take the first step into my 30s. This blog post is totally my gift to myself, because I’m just going to be weird here for like 700 words and you all will read it anyway because you’re bored on your phones on a train platform or a toilet somewhere.

So, first and foremost, I’m pretty sure you can measure your success as an adult by how much money you manage to save at the grocery store. Last night we saved $50, so we are clearly winning some kind of grown up lottery. Moreover, our groceries had almost no junk food in them!

I say "almost" because I had to buy myself these delicious little bastards. Because what's the point of being an adult if you can't have some fucking fun?
I say “almost” because I had to buy myself these delicious little bastards. Because what’s the point of being an adult if you can’t have some fucking fun?

I’m also fairly certain adulthood can be defined in another way, though. Because all the social and fiscal responsibility in the world won’t save you if you can’t chill the hell out and have some fun. It’s important that you fulfill the dreams your childhood self dreamed as much as possible. To that end, yesterday morning I announced to Frankie that, when I die, I want her to have my skull bleached and bedazzled so that she can remember me forever as decoration.

Nothing says "eternal love" like using the whimsical remains of your loved one as a centerpiece.
Nothing says “eternal love” like using the whimsical remains of your loved one as a centerpiece.

She, of course, said no.

But being bleached and bedazzled would basically be the culmination of a lifelong dream. So I’ll keep begging like a kid for a Christmas present. I’ll wear her down. You’ll see. Because I’m an adult. And that means I’m persistent.

One of the better things about being a grown up is that you are the master of your own domain. Which means that you are the master of your own time. Which is great! But what I find more and more is that I have less and less time to do the things that I want. Which is a super huge bummer for me. But, in order to counter that utter crap salad of a realization, I’ve started doing super adult weird shit with my spare time. You know, that time that you have that you can’t really do anything with? That stuff drives me crazy. It’s existential version of a penny. Why does it even exist? It costs more money to make than it’s really worth, but you never want to throw it away because eventually it will add up to a dollar. It’s so frustrating!

Fuck you, Abe.
Why can’t I quit you, Abe? Why?

Here’s a real question that I think I’ve finally answered. You know that time after the gym and dinner, but before bed time? What do you do with those two hours that doesn’t make you feel totally useless? I mean, I watch TV and play video games as much as the next girl, but I’ve figured out in the last year how to tag team my leisure time like a pro. Which basically just means that I never watch TV without cross stitching anymore. And I listen to audio books while I clean. Because I’m a grown up!

But back to birthdays. My absolute favorite thing about my birthday is the cool people that I get to share it with. Jules and my birthdays are only 8 days apart, so we always get together for dinner and drinks and hangouts, just the two of us. It’s super great. I look forward to it every year. This year it’s cheap noodles and expensive drinks at the Hop Sing Laundromat. Which just… really you can’t beat that for a night out.

This year my girlfriend continues to win all the girlfriend awards there ever were for her awesome gift giving skills. Last year she got me the boxed set of Calvin and Hobbes. This year she got me a KitchenAid. A red one. Which I promptly named Martha. While making this face:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

Seriously, I have wanted one of these things for the last … ever. For. Ever. And now I have one. I am going to bake so much, y’all. I am going to get so fucking Martha Stewart all up on this kitchen. It’s insane.

Then tomorrow she is taking me out for bourbon and noms at Twisted Tail, my favorite bar in the city next to Hop Sing. And I get to spend the weekend baking with Martha and playing games and running around the city doing basically anything I please.

All things considered, so far, my 30s are kicking the absolute shit out of my 20s. My 30s are making my 20s their bitch.