Snapshots from my farm

No swing and a miss

The phillies lost the NLCS.

But you already know that because it was a week ago and your life has gone on.

Let me just quickly paint a picture for my own closure.

I went to a weird, mostly empty pseudo-sports bar and watched the game on silent because college football takes precedence in the south. Baseball? What's baseball?

But I went and watched because I am a loyal (postseason) fan and I wanted to watch them beat the odds in public.

I wanted to run down the street chanting after their victory.

And I watched, and cheered, then squirmed and feared.

Then, the end.

An athlete, adored by fans, paid millions of dollars a year to hit a ball, steps up to the plate.

His team is down 3-1 in the series and down 3-2 in this game.

This game is everything.

It's the ninth inning. 2 outs. 2 strikes.

This is his moment. He could be the hero.

The pitch.

The perfect pitch.

Sails over the plate.

The player is paid millions of dollars a year to hit the ball really far.

The ball whizzes through the strike zone.

The player doesn't move. The bat doesn't swing.

The strike is called.

It's over.

The world series dreams are dead.

And he didn't even swing the goddamn bat.

Sure there is always next year. But it'll never be the same. Players will leave for more money. Fans will be more skeptical.

And the love in my heart for Ryan Howard will never be the same.

Life is like a box of kittens

About a month ago I joined an animal welfare group called Concerned Citizens for Animals (CCA). CCA is an animal shelter/rescue group that promotes animal welfare and eliminating pet overpopulation in upstate South Carolina. They send out a daily e-mail digest with information and updates about events and animal adoption/fostering. Two weeks ago, the organizer, Colleen, sent out a request for someone to foster a litter of six 3 week old kittens while their owner was on a business trip. Since I was bringing Lacey back to the Humane Society the next day and my fostering experience had been very positive, I volunteered to do it.

The youngest kitten I've ever dealt with was 4 months old so I had no clue what it would be like dealing with a half dozen 3 week olds. But I'm all about new experiences and how hard could it really be?

So 2 days and a couple phone calls later I was driving home with a box of kittens in the backseat. Here is the line up:

Sasha

Callie

Mogli

Yogi

Willie

Willie

Lil Grey

It's been quite the experience. When I first got them they couldn't walk, pee or poop on their own and needed to be fed every 4 hours (except overnight). Everyday they'd wake up crying to be fed. I'd bottle feed each of them, wipe them down with a towel (to stimulate peeing and pooping) then put them down to sleep until their next feeding. While incredibly adorable, they didn't do much. Now I understand why parents say they can't wait for their newborns to get older. As the days went on, they learned to walk, then run, then chase me like an ice cream truck. Now they're learning to climb and play and jump and no box can contain them. They've mastered peeing and pooping on their own in the litterbox and two of them have been weaned onto solid food. I couldn't be prouder. I almost shed a tear over Sasha's first jump.

Fostering kittens has been a lesson in patience and organization. They cry and cry and cry when they're hungry. Six screaming kittens is the last thing I want to wake up to after a night of drinking. They also have sharp claws that they don't know what to do with yet. And now that they're mobile they will chase me around and try to climb up my leg until they've been fed. Pants are now a requirement if I don't want tiny claws digging into my skin. I've cleaned up more poop and pee in the last 2 weeks than I have in my lifetime.

But it is and will remain one of the greatest things I've ever done. Everyday I marvel at how much they've grown and continue to grow. It's fascinating to watch these tiny creatures that are still learning so much about how to survive in this world. These early weeks of their life are the most important for their physical and social development. Knowing that I have so much of an impact on who they become in the future is nerve wracking, and a great blessing. I worry that they're eating too much or not enough. That they're growing too fast or not fast enough. Or that they'll hurt themselves in their new explorations. And I marvel as they swat at invisible flies and wrestle with their siblings. As they pile on top of each other for warmth and clean each other. It's better than any reality show.

And sure, they're just cats. Cats are a dime a dozen. They can be moody, independent and sneaky. But when I scoop up one of these wriggly little beings and it looks up at me with those big wondering eyes and begins to purr, I know that this is what life is about. Forming connections. Learning and growing. Taking care of each other. And always, always, making time to play.

Bouncing back

It's been a couple weeks since the lizard incident and I'm almost fully recovered. Yes, all my trips into the laundry room lately involve me frantically sprinting in and out. But I'll be fine. Gift baskets aren't necessary. The best way to bounce back is to start blogging again so here goes...

The week of the 11th was a pretty lazy one. Chris was in real estate classes and Lacey, Brutus and I were mostly unproductive. Brutus wasn't the biggest fan of Lacey since she liked to sneak up and swipe at him. She's a playful kitten, and he's an old man. But they eventually learned to tolerate each other...while asleep.

I was able to check one thing off my list - cleaning the office. When we moved in, all of the suitcases and random stuff ended up in that room. It became a giant storage closet. So one rainy day I finally tackled the project. Lacey was nice enough to help by pouncing onto everything I attempted to put away.

After a couple hours, the project was complete. Having that room cleaned out was a weight off my shoulders. Felt so good to be able to check something off my list.

Office Before:

Office After: 

Yes, everything on the wall is crooked

That Friday we went to the our standard Friday night bar, the Irish Pub. Every Friday we meet up there with some people we met through the Meetup group. We're practically regulars and it's always a good time. The beer is cheap, the locals are friendly and the karaoke is very...memorable. That night, a local woman did an eardrum shattering performance of Madonna's Like a Virgin, complete with gyrating on the mic stand and putting the mic up to her crotch. Guess she thought it wanted to sing. Her boyfriend noticed me taking a video of her performance and insisted that I put it on youtube. I declined. For now.

Not a virgin

Saturday morning was a harsh reminder once again that alcohol is poison. There is a reason they made an entire movie about hangovers. They are a real bitch. Luckily, I discovered a way to ease the pain: Bojangles' cajun filet biscuit. I'm normally anti-fast food but Chris was raving about it and my grease levels were dangerously low. It made me feel a lot better...until an hour later when it made me feel a lot worse.

Grease fix

I also spotted an exciting new addition to the neighborhood: Trader Joe's! They opened last week and I can't wait to check it out. I love suburban grocery stores. So big and clean and full of food. The Trader Joe's I shopped at in New York was small and always packed with people. The wait in line was always a minimum of 20 minutes followed by a 5 block walk home carrying heavy bags of food to squeeze into the fridge I shared with two messy roommates. Life is easier these days.

That afternoon my foster duties were complete and I took Lacey back to the Humane Society. It was so sad to have to say goodbye to her. She was such a sweet, affectionate, playful kitten. And she constantly followed me around the house. I love 'em needy. I wanted to keep her permanently but unfortunately she was a long-haired kitten and Chris and I were both allergic. Zyrtec worked great for the allergies but it'd be pretty expensive for us to be on it for the rest of her life. Plus, Brutus was terrified of her. He's a real man's man.

I spotted this pretty girl at the shelter and felt like maybe it was fate that I adopt her. I think it would be hilarious to have a dog and a person with the same name living in our house. The confusion! The laughter! Chris disagreed.

Doppelganger

That night we tried out the cast iron pizza pan I bought on Amazon as a gift for Chris completing real estate school. Cast iron pans are awesome - it made our best pizza yet. Now he uses it for all kinds of meals- roasted potatoes, bacon and eggs, stromboli - it does it all.

12 pounds of delcious

And then on Sunday: KITTENS!

to be continued

Lacey Cat, Blogger

Lacey requested that I let her write a blog post and since she saved my life today, I obliged. I'm pretty sure she drew a penis:

XSSSSSSSSSSSZ '« VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV'

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Lizardgate 2010 in pictures

The first pounce

It is NOT a toy

KILL IT

Still alive

The end is near

Off you go, Lizard

Too little too late

The hero dozes after slaying the dragon

Lizardgate 2010 pt 2

So the cat must have read my blog trash talking her hunting skills, because about 30 seconds after I posted it, she returned from the den with the lizard IN HER MOUTH.

She carried the lizard through the kitchen and INTO THE FAMILY ROOM where she proceeded to drop it. It was, of course, very much alive.

I panicked, to put it mildly.

"HERE KITTY, COME HERE KITTY, NOT IN THE FAMILY ROOM KITTY, HEEEEEEEERE KITTY" To no avail.

She pawed at it some more, then picked it up again and casually walked into the kitchen where I sat frozen in terror on the counter. Then she of course let it go, free to romp around my kitchen, until she pounced on it again.

Finally, Chris came home to me shrieking on the counter and I calmly (ha) explained the situation. He coolly placed a box on top of it and escorted it outside like it was no big thang.

Please. He came in at the tail end of the situation. There were no lizards FLYING THROUGH THE AIR by the time he arrived. I think my panic attacks/screaming were quite warranted.

So finally, the lizard is gone. The kitten is a hero. Chris will take the credit. I need PTSD counseling.

There is a video of some of the fiasco. If I can swallow my shame enough, I will post it.

Lizardgate 2010

I was walking into the laundry room to take clothes out of the dryer when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye.

A LIZARD.

So, like any reasonable person, I screamed like I was on fire and ran into the safety of the living room. 5 minutes later, once I'd calmed down slightly I began to google "ways to get rid of a lizard." The first suggestion was to have a cat take care of it.

Aha! I have one of those! So I carried her into the laundry room and gently tossed her in. Unfortunately, the lizard had already disapeared.

Resume freaking out.

5 minutes later, after making 3 frantic phone calls to my mother with no answer and just barely resisting calling 9-1-1, I decided to try again. When I headed back to the laundry room, there it was! Sitting smugly on the carpet IN THE DEN. I screamed and threw the cat (again, gently) in it's direction.

Success! The lizard ran and the cat ran after it. A cat-and-lizard chase commenced wherein she would catch it, stare at it for a few seconds, let it go, chase it, catch it...you get the idea. The entire time I'm screaming "JUST KILL IT, IT IS NOT A TOY, KILL IT KILL IT PLEASE KILL IT." It was a trying time for both of us.

Eventually she caught it and picked it up in her mouth, then dropped it. I thought she'd finally go in for the kill. But, she clearly didn't know what to do with this new toy. At one point it looked like she was even befriending it. I could swear they kissed.

Then the lizard ran, and she chased it into the laundry room. A struggle commenced. I was too terrified to investigate from my perch in the kitchen. What seemed like hours later, the cat strutted back into the den, lizard in mouth. She dropped it and it didn't move. It was on it's back. It could be dead...

...

...

The cat and I waited with bated breath. Suddenly, the lizard FLEW (okay maybe jumped) out of the den. I screamed much louder than is normal for said scenario. The police have likely ben called. The cat gave chase.

And then.

Nothing.

She came back out of the den, sans lizard, and looked at me like "oh hey, what's up?"

"WHAT'S UP? WHERE IS THE LIZARD, CAT????" I may have said.

Gone.

GONE??

The (previously sweet, adorable) cat even had the NERVE to start casually looking around the house for it as if to say, "yeah, it could be anywhere dude."

"You go find that lizard, Cat!!!! RIGHT NOW!! And don't call me dude." I may or may not have said.

The cat scoffed at me and retreated to the family room to stare out the window (plot her escape).

And where was Brutus while all of this went on? Staring at me and shaking in a corner*. Sigh, worthless.

So now there is a lizard somewhere in my home, likely in the laundry room vicinity, laughing at me, my failure cat and scaredy-dog.

I am and will remain seated on the kitchen counter until Chris arrives home.

Lizard: 10

My sanity: -2

*granted, most mammals would have reacted similarly to my hysterics

EMERGENCY: SOS

THERE IS A LIZARD IN MY LAUNDRY ROOM.

PLEASE SEND HELP IMMEDIATELY.

Hot and cold

The number one reason I moved down south is the weather. After last winter I vowed to NEVER go through that again. I swear I must have seasonal affective disorder because I'm so, so, so much happier in warm weather.

The temperature down here is usually 10-20 degrees warmer during the day than up north. It will definitely get cold this winter but I'll take 32 degrees over 12 degrees any day. Typically, it only snows once down here and it's just light flurries. Compare that with last year's "snowmaggedon" nightmare up north. Seriously, WHAT was that?

Here is today's weather comparison:

2009 Snow comparison:

Up north

South Carolina

It's no California but I'll take it..

Desperate times

Call for desperate measures.

When I lived in New York, if the weather was good, I walked pretty much everywhere. There was just so much going on everywhere that I didn't want to miss. Plus, the subway smells like hot pee. So while my gym card became melded to my wallet from lack of use, I was moderately active. However, I ate and drank out a lot and consequently gained weight. That's when I took a break from booze and started recording all of my calories using the Lose it app. I also began eating mostly Amy's organic frozen meals which made counting calories easy. Although "excitement" and "fun" were a bit lacking from my life, the weight loss was a success.

Now that I live down south, there is much less walking, and the weight has piled back on. I do more actual exercise like playing tennis and...uh, raking. But there is also a new component of life trying to sabotage my weight: Chris' cooking. While delicious, it's not exactly fat-free. The fact is, men make you fat. They cook large portions, always want you to try whatever they're eating, and make biscuits at midnight. Well, maybe that's just Chris. Suffice to say, it's time for me to get back on the weight loss plan. I was watching Rob and Big yesterday afternoon (I will get a job eventually) and there was a dietician on who gave me a great idea. She suggested to Big that he divide snacks into serving size portions to avoid mindless snacking.

For a long time, I didn't realize that the calories on each package are per serving, not per package. And they can get really tricky with it too. You might get excited that one serving of Cool Mint Creme Double Stuf Oreos (mmmm) is 140 calories, until you discover that one serving = two cookies. Obviously you can't eat just 2 oreos. That's un-American.

So I raided the pantry for all the good stuff, made note of the serving size, and measured each serving into a ziploc bag. I took her advice a step further and labeled each bag with the amount of calories.

So far it has been effective: it's easier to count calories and to avoid overeating. I've also found that without the fancy packaging, food just isn't as appealing. Companies have spent a lot of money figuring out what colors and designs and fonts get us to want to eat their food. Removing it from the packaging, greatly reduces it's power over us.

That's my second effort to tame the beast of weight gain. I've also been jogging (walking) on the treadmill or doing some form of outdoor exercise everyday. I'm committed to doing whatever I need to do (within reason) to burn those spanx once and for all.And guys, don't act like you don't know what spanx are. I've seen the seam lines under your...shirts.

The next step in the weight loss goal: managing our cheese habit.