We named the new cat. Her name is Boomer. Yes, from Battlestar Galactica. Yes, we are nerds. We let her out to explore the house. Teeny followed her at a respectable distance. Then she went into my room and found Simon's super secret hiding place under a giant Pooh Bear in my closet. I let her stay there for about a half an hour and then went in and got her and put her back in the quarantine room so she could relax. She is very stressed out by Chewy, who is all about her. New cat = new potential friend. I had to put him outside while she was out.
I'm not depressed. I'm just not feeling the holiday spirit. I should be setting up my tree right now.
I am baking pumpkin pies. One for me and one for N and his family. Plus Doc got a Chocolate Silk pie for us. I have to make room in the fridge for that.
S is home for the holiday weekend. We're afraid he might want to borrow the big-ass truck, it used to be his, after all. But Doc is concerned that he will get deserted somewhere in it, with the whole transmission thing going on. Hopefully Doc will at least get to hang out with him. I think it's been a year since they've hung out.
Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate it. Aside from the pies, I'm not. Doc has to work all night. He's asleep now. He took his sleeper at 9:30, hours earlier than usual. I guess he wants to spend part of the evening with me before he goes to work, or wants to spend time with N before work. Probably the latter.
Do you know, that even after the stress and adrenaline pumping adventure we had yesterday, he actually told me he had fun on our outing? You know, without the fear aspect. And he is so in love with Boomer. And she likes him better than me. This morning when he got home and woke me up, I went into the quarantine room to see her and she was hiding in the cabinets in that room (no dangerous chemicals in those cabinets, just pet and first aid supplies) and she wouldn't come out for me, she just sat there and meowed. Then Doc opened the door and said something to me, and the moment she heard his deep, soothing voice, she came right out of the cabinet. So I left them to their love fest.
I did go in about an hour later and talked her out of the cabinet and she came to me and marked me all up with the scent glands in her face. She is so pretty. She has this chubby little pot belly. And she lets me scratch it as long as she is standing up. She is three years old. She was surrendered to the shelter by her owner, who said they had too many. She has mild gum disease, but is clear on FIV and Feline Lukemia. She has been in a cage since early October. I think that's why she's so skittish. She's so used to closed in spaces, she doesn't know what to do with our large open living/dining area and our equally spacious kitchen. And having Teeny stalking her had to have been disconcerting. When I let her out tonight, I will close off all of the bedrooms so she has to deal with the living areas.
My happiest Thanksgiving was when I was in college with Kelli. Her parents had just told her I was a bad influence and they didn't want me around her anymore when the holiday came up and our college closed the dorms. My parents lived right up the street, but they left a message on my machine that they were leaving town and to have a happy holiday while they were gone. They knew the dorms closed. And they deserted me. Kelli took one for the team and called her parents and explained that I had no place to stay over the holiday and what my parents had done to me, and they invited me to stay with them, which couldn't have been easy. But I went, and they fell in love with me, and Kelli and I could still be friends. So my happiest Turkey Day wasn't even with my own family. As I recall, they also had me over for xmas that year, too.
So, there's my obligatory holiday anecdote. I really wish Kelli was here.
Doc has some drama going on in his life that I won't talk about, but if you are the sort to pray or send blessings, would you keep a thought out for him? He could really use it. He's at the breaking point taking care of me, and this added stuff is not helping him at all. And in all of this, we're trying to coordinate Kelli coming out here next year to take care of me while he goes to visit his parents. And I'm trying not to make it all about me. Trying to understand that I am turning the lives of two other people upside down, and try to see where they are coming from and going through.
The last few months have shown me how "disabled" I am. How utterly helpless. Because I've been trying to be better, but it isn't working. I am the same spaz, no matter what I try. I forget things, all the time. And not because I ignore things. And not because I am flighty. I just forget things. One thing I have improved is accepting that when Doc reminds me of something, he isn't patronizing me, he is helping me. He is not playing some passive aggressive game like my parents did. That took a lot of reprogramming, and I still slip up sometimes and get snarky with him, like a petulant teen.
Basically, I quit maturing emotionally around 15 when this illness hit me full force. That's why I still dress like a teenage tomboy. That's what I see myself as. Though I am more body conscious than I was at 15. I was too wrapped up in my illness as a teen to be body conscious. Just trying to stay alive day by day was enough without the pressures of all of that crap. I experimented with makeup, that was a fail. I couldn't wear foundation because my skin would peel when I applied it to my face. I was big on black eyeliner, but it was the 80's, so was everyone, even the boys.
My mom was really fashion forward, shopping at Laura Ashley and the Limited. Buying herself designer clothes and taking me to the thrift store. I gave up on fashion early and went for the tshirts and jeans. That's what I'm wearing right now. Bought at the thrift store. I'm glad now that she didn't try to dress me up in all that nonsense. But at the time I found it very unfair. She was too fat for most of the stuff she bought and it just hung in her closet, and she wouldn't let me borrow it. Last time I was at her house she still had all of that stuff, now woefully out of style. For when she gets thin. She hasn't seen thin since 1973. She's only kidding herself. I myself have a pile in the top of my closet of "thin" clothes, but I usually get to wear them a few months out of every year, since my weight fluctuates with the medications.
She and my dad asked me 14 years ago when I got here how I stayed so thin, considering the genetics I was burdened with. I looked at them and deadpanned, "Speed". They actually believed me. I could have been honest and said, "I'm not a fucking glutton," but, the reaction to the other answer was more precious. I love shocking them because they are gullible and will believe anything. Basically because they will lie about anything. And they are mormon.
I am displeased with my play list experience today. Too much sad. I may plug in the secondary hard drive and fire up some xmas carols.
Oh, Ministry, that's better. I can live with that. Dodged a bullet there.