I woke up at 7:30 this morning, which is only a half-hour later than the usual 7:00 wake up time that I have on normal work days. Why I can't sleep on my vacation is beyond me, but there it is. It's not so bad, really, sitting here with Zoe perched directly behind my head on the back of the couch, Oz eyeing her from the floor, coffee at my side, laptop at hand. It would be peaceful and serene if it weren't for all the flipping barking dogs in the neighborhood. At this moment in time I can count five distinct barks. None of them are our dogs, who if not smart, are at least polite. I could close the windows and door to block the sound, but I rather like having it finally cool enough to wear my robe.

A FANTASTIC dream about me and McDreamy (apparently I can hold my breath underwater for a long time in my dreams) was interrupted by my walnut-sized bladder (hmm, come to think of it, that's probably why I was dreaming of water), and from there the brain kicked in with thoughts of all the things I need to get done today. None of the tasks on my list were inflicted on me by Calvin in a fit of protest over my time off, though that's what I fully expected to happen. No, he was going to allow me my week of sloth, but I have discovered that I need to live a purpose-filled life. Thus I compiled a self-directed honey-do list.

First thing's first, though, so I have to write an entry about it. ("Wrote a song about it. Like to hear it? Here it goes.")

Ozzy's nose is out of joint because he just jumped up on the couch to discover that Zoe had moved to nestle against my hip. My lap is occupied by my computer, which means there is no snuggle space for him. He just raced off to climb up three separate doorframes and the column of the half-wall in the living room. Now he's trying to figure out other ways to get my attention and is playing Captain Explorer behind the television. With all the wires. A sure way to get hollered at. Any attention is good attention, I guess.

We're selling my motorcycle. I hardly ever ride it (I actually find that I prefer the bitch seat behind Calvin, because I'm a big ol' chicken in Arizona traffic), we could use the money, and I'd actually prefer owning one of these. I placed the ad last night and am grimly awaiting the round of telephone calls to begin. I hate that part about selling crap, but what are you gonna do.

Now Oz is trying to get into the cabinet underneath the snake's vivarium. That cat thinks that everyone in the household should operate under his schedule and won't settle down until I feed him. Bastard.

Okay, they're fed. Now maybe they'll leave me alone. CRAP. I forgot to grab the camera while I was up. Dammit.

OKAY. And now, for some pictures. Hover over them for comments.















Man, I'm REALLY putting off getting started on my list.

• Grocery shopping
  
• Go to the bank
  
• Sweep, vacuum, mop, dust
  
• Clean the kitchen & bathroom
  
• Laundry
  
• Litter boxes
  
• Adjust the sprinklers
  
• Take the movies back
  
• Dig up the motorcycle title
  
• Empty and clean the hot tub
  
• Work out
  

Alright, I'm outta here.


_{Momentary Thought: There's a massive amount of birds cheeping away in the backyard. I miss chickadees and whippoorwills, though.
High: It's actually chilly this morning.
Low: I have a craptastic amount of stuff to do today.
Obsession: I'm doing new pie recipes for Thanksgiving this year. I need to make them enough in advance that if they turn out like crap I can still run to CostCo and buy a couple.
Grin: The dream I had last night.
Playing: Birdsong and barking dogs.
Location: Living room.}

Labels: home, journal, listy goodness, motorcycle, photography, vacation

Posted by Laura at 7:56 AM | Permalink | Comments

Ahhhh. The summer, she is finally over. It was in the 70's and 80's all weekend long, and this morning it's 60 degrees. We rode around on Calvin's motorcycle Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I can't on the offhand recall where we went on Friday, but Saturday we went to Mill Avenue for the MOST AWESOME-EST cheeseburgers EVAR, and on Sunday we went for a ride through the foothills before hitting Rock Bottom for a couple of beers and appetizers.

Zoe and Oz are driving me BATSHIT this morning. They want to be together, but they don't. I have this (marvellous) routine in the morning where I lock Zoe in the weight room so she can eat and poo in peace without Oz all, "Whatcha doin? Are you my friend yet?" I feed Oz, per usual, in his dish in the "cat closet". He eats three bites (if that), then hightails it (heh) back to the weight room door to talk to Zoe under the crack, rattle the handle (like I said, I have to LOCK the door so he doesn't open it), come in my room where I am steadfastly working (or, you know, writing an entry), fuss at me to LEEEEEET him IIIIINNNNN, then when I finally open the door so she can come out/he can go in, instead of acting like long-separated lovers they FIT at each other for the rest of the day. Oz just follows Zoe around from hiding place to hiding place. Occasionally they can stand to be in the same space (sitting in front of the screen door, hanging out on/in the bathtub) for about five minutes, then suddenly Zoe will look at Oz like he's grown horns and gets all, "WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!?" And she fits, and hisses, and growls, and Oz is all, "Geez, woman, PMS is a bitch, innit?"

Plus, you know how Marie is moving back in? Well, so is her dog. In the past two weeks we added another cat AND another dog as permanent additions to the household. Current count for those of you playing at home is two cats, three dogs, two bearded dragons, and a snake. All of whom I get to take care of. I am not kidding, nor am I exaggerating, when I say that I spend a total of probably two hours a day, split between morning and evening, taking care of the animals. AND it seems I will have to take Cheeto to the vet, as the poor dear is constipated. We can't have a constipated lizard on our hands, now can we?

Yeesh. At this point I am SO qualified to be a vet.

Anyway. Last week's drama is calming down a bit, but I still have anxiety up the wazoo. Marie was having troubles with her ex-boyfriend that resulted in us having to ride to her rescue in the middle of a work day. She'd moved all of his belongings - i.e. all of the furniture (she is apparently a strong black woman trapped in that teeny white girl's body) - out onto the patio of her apartment. Ex-BF was blowing up her phone with threats and angst, she called us. We showed up, then HE showed up with his brother to get his stuff. Argument ensued during which he and his brother got all up in Calvin's face.

Ahem.

SO! Calvin deterred that shit right there, then phoned the police. Who very promptly showed up to supervise the removal of the furniture and belay comments thrown from the Ex-BF in Marie's general direction. In the meantime the Ex-BF's mom showed up, and we got to witness first hand where her son got his charming personality. They left, the police left, we left, then went down to the court house to get proceedings started on a restraining order.

So, that was fun.

AAAAAANNNNNNNND then I discovered fraudulent charges against my checking account. It seems that Calvin's debit card number has been compromised. So I got to deal with that last week. On top of the refrigerator dying, buying a new refrigerator, waiting around for said refrigerator to be delivered, spending $300 on groceries to replace those lost, dealing with Marie's ex-BF, dealing with New Pet Issues, and everything else that normal life dishes up when one has a full time job and a more-than-full-time life.

Current tally: angsty shit - 10, Laura's ability to cope - 0.

BUT! Calvin and I are going to see Jersey Boys again tomorrow with Calvin's sister and her husband. I am looking forward to that like nobody's business - probably even more than I was looking forward to seeing it the first time, and despite the fact that I have had "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" firmly entrenched in my brain for, like, ever.

(baaa DA baaa DA baaa da DA da da...) "I love you baby..."

Labels: headspace, home, journal, kids, motorcycle, pets

Posted by Laura at 8:46 AM | Permalink | Comments

Slowly, over today's passage of time, I have become a Cubicle Zombie. I've somewhat managed to whittle down my "To Do" list, but I had to sacrifice my sanity in order to do so. I spent ALL DAY trying to resolve overdue invoices for my plethora of vendors. Our AP group is tough to deal with, to say the very least. Oh, I'm sure as individuals they're fine, but as a process it rather sucks balls.

Thank God for Calvin. For many reasons, tis true, but especially for the fact that he rescued me for brunch today, and I got to have eggs and homefries and sausage. I like my sausage like I like my pancakes, smothered in maple syrup. Heh. You thought I was going for something dirty there, didn't you? Frisky readers.

We've been dating a lot lately. It's a marvelous thing to go on regular dates with my husband of almost five years. And we've been together for almost nine. For instance, on Sunday Calvin and I rode up to Grimaldi's for The Best Pizza on Earth(tm), then went across the street to the Sugar Cone for a banana split and a mocha malt. THEN we walked to one of the shops nearby (Old Town Scottsdale is very pedestrian friendly), where he proceeded to buy me a leather motorcycle jacket for Christmas. Even though I told him I didn't need anything (else).

All this was his idea, mind you. Sometimes he gets all romantical and stuff. He wants us to go on another date on Friday to see Eragon at the theater (just because he knows I really want to see it), and have some dinner. And ride the motorcycle some more.

My bike is excellent for us to ride on together. It's a lot easier to snuggle up against Calvin's back than on his street bike. If we're riding without our helmets (oh, I KNOW - we say it's only because we're going slowly and a short distance, but you don't have to preach about the potential for accidents. We're risk takers, we are) then I prop my chin up on Calvin's shoulder and we converse while we're riding along. It's really, really nice.

We've been riding a lot together, hitting various bars and restaurants, or just toodling around. It makes us happy. And one cannot overemphasize the importance of simple things that make day to day life - and day to day married life - enjoyable.

In other news, my fingers hurt. I've been practicing the guitar and it's MURDER (I tell you!) to fret the 1st and 2nd strings. However, I can occasionally make noise come out of it that sounds less like a dying cat and more like (slow, halting, mistake-fraught) music. Calvin is getting a guitar as well ("Dear God, please forgive me for ordering off of QVC... and help me to hold strong against the powers of Esteban..."), and we're toying with the idea of taking lessons together.

The family that plays together, stays together? I can just see Marie on drums and Michael on the tambourine (I can hear his protesting "HEY!" when he reads this). Heh. The Partridge Family ain't got nuthin' on us.

In other, other news, we've officially tried Absinthe. ACK. ACK, ACK, ACK. ACK. Yarg.

I love the buzz (like cannabis, except that **cough** I wouldn't know what that's like **cough**), but the taste is just plain vomitous. Very STRONG black licorice. Thick, with a STRONG aftertaste. That leaves you burping up (ack) licorice for three hours afterwards.

Of course, that's if you drink it straight. If you drink it the traditional way (1pt absinthe to 3pt water, poured slowly over a sugar cube), it's less vomitous, but the buzz is less profound.

And dude, we SO ain't drinking this stuff for the taste.

Labels: booze, Calvin, guitar, journal, motorcycle

Posted by Laura at 3:05 PM | Permalink | Comments