This year has been so busy with trips and work and things. I am looking at my calendar right now and I can’t believe I am not in a puddle whining about how tired I am.
From now until the 18th of December my calendar is chock full of trips. I leave for Houston tomorrow for Marly’s birthday. Next week it starts with San Antonio, then to Tyler to see my folks for Thanksgiving, back to San Antonio, Arlington and then Houston.
I really have had a blast. I have spent way more money than I meant to, and I have been in Green Bay twice this year, on a family cruise and in New Orleans in October.
There have been funerals and weddings and holidays. There have been sad moments and ones that are so fantastic you (me) do that ugly, happy cry.
Some of you may remember that my dear, sweet cat, Max passed away in April. It was horrific and I am still not back to center. He had stopped eating about two weeks before, he was still drinking, but he flat out refused to eat anything. His kidneys shut down and he withered away from a healthy 12 pound, 16.5 year old kitty to a pitiful shell.
I knew he was dehydrating from the inside out and I took him in for euthanasia on the morning of the 15th.
That fucking sucked, but I know he was tired. He had a wonderful life and he brought so much joy to me, as hopefully, I did for him.
I spent eleventy-nine frillion dollars on purses, shoes, jewelry and on shopping trips with Marly. I was trying to fix a cat shaped hole in my heart. It didn’t work. So I traveled as well.
I have a burr under my saddle that my boyfriend (Nugget) doesn’t really travel. I don’t know why. It’s just a thing. To be honest, there is no reason for him to travel, change jobs, live on his own or take anything “to the next level.” He has the same job he’s had for 12 or 13 years. He lives in a home that is paid for. The fact that he lives with his mother and his sister doesn’t bother him at all. His car is about paid for and he gets pussy on the regular from me. Why should he move his cheese at all? For someone who is comfortable in their rut, it makes perfect sense to stay there. The moving forward thing is all me. The travel thing is all me. Well any of his long term friends and I, which are like, “Jesus Christ in a birch bark canoe, live on your own, have your own life… BE INDEPENDENT!”
I try to get over it because it really doesn’t matter*. But then….
In May I decided in my head that, “he doesn’t like to travel because he hasn’t had fabulous experiences like… TRAVELING WITH ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Yes, we’ve discussed this. I am delusional with a hint of narcissism. And apparently we can add codependent to the list.
So I called Marls and was like, “Dude, we need to take the boys on a trip. A surprise trip. And here are the details, ya’in?” She replied with a hearty, “YES, motherfucker.”
So she and I planned this fabu weekend in New Orleans with the boys. They didn’t know the info. Nobody did.
I just called Nugget.
me: lover**, are you able to leave for a full weekend?
nugget: yes, what’s up?
me: you said you wanted to travel with me if you had advanced notice, is six months enough?
me: good because we are getting on a plane, we will not be in town
So In July Marls accidentally let it slip that she was excited about “our” trip. He was like, “Oh? Are you going too?”
Then in August, on the way to a Steely Dan concert in Houston, Will, Marly’s boyfriend, piped in from the back seat. “I so need a getaway, our trip is going to be epic.” Nugget, “Oh… so you too, huh? Who else is going on our secret trip?”
The day came for us to go on our trip and y’all? We had the best freaking time.
We got there early as hell on Friday, partied like rock stars all freaking day and then took it easy Saturday. The weather was glorious. Not hot at all, a little rainy and it was romantical.
There is a little café on the square. Nugget and I decided to go there for breakfast on Saturday. It was raining, and we walked arm in arm to the square under an umbrella. I felt like I was starring in a freaking Nicholas Sparks movie.
I didn’t even take a picture of our room at the W, but son, …
We came back to Dallas and something STILL wasn’t right.
When I lost Max, things just went flat. I wanted to be excited about all the fun things I did, all the experiences I had, all the love that I have been a part of … I was just… two dimensional. I knew I was in trouble in August when I started searching PetFinder in earnest.
Every week, I looked. I looked at dogs, cats, rats, more dogs…. Every Egyptian Mau on the internet. Every Korat that was listed. Every gray cat.
I found him… then I had to go out of town.
When I got back, I went to visit him over my lunch hour. He came back to the office with me in a carrier and charmed the pants off of everyone in the building.
He’s little, younger than I am used to. My mother named him Boo. He is lithe and agile. Well muscled and heavier than he looks. His little claws are like daggers into my flesh and I don’t care. He’s happy, he talks back. He wants to be where you are. He likes dogs. He will steal the straw directly out of your cup.
When you first meet him, he will stretch several times until you compliment him on how handsome he is. Then he will run at you full force and flop over so you can rub his belly.
Nugget taught him how to fetch and is working on getting him to speak on command. I am so in love with the little guy.
Things are coming back to center.
*It’s the motherfucking principle of the thing. THE GODDAMN PRINCIPLE.
**Yes, I do talk like that, vomit in your mouth somewhere else.