And then the house whispered, "GET OUT"

I arrived home last night in a foul mood around 7:30 after an excruciating three-hour meeting with my accountant (she is a lovely woman; I just hate dealing with money). I noticed a large-ish fur ball on the dining room rug (Miss Kitty likes to leave those around), felt uneasy about it, and turned the light on to discover a MOUSE. A real mouse, not a play mouse, curled up on its side.

My first reaction: Scream. But I didn't, because I'm an independent woman who is perfectly capable of ridding her house of bug and pests. I circled the mouse, holding my breath so I wouldn't scream and scare it in case it was still alive. It wasn't bloody; it looked like it was sleeping. But in the middle of my dining room floor? I know Miss Kitty had nothing to do with its demise, unless it died from fright as she stared at it. She won't chase her toy mice, so I know she won't go after a real one.

So I walked back and forth, thought I'd call Michael, remembered he was in Houston, peeked at the mouse again, tried not to scream again, thought about holding a mirror near its face to see if it was breathing, started hyperventilating. Decided to go out front and check my mail (in hopes that Rodent Monthly magazine had arrived and it would tell me how to dispose of mouse? I wasn't thinking clearly). My neighbor happened to be taking his trash out at that exact moment. He said "Hey" and I blurted, "THERESAMOUSEINMYHOUSE!" I think he said something like "I'll handle it" or "is it dead?" and then asked me for a broom and dustpan. I stood in the corner, trying to suppress my shrieking so I was holding my breath, but when he went to pick it up he jumped back and I SQUEALED(seriously) something like "OHMYGODISITALIVEIT'SGOINGTOGETME."

Neighbor didn't seem fazed. He got it into the dustpan and took it outside. When I took the broom and dustpan back, I asked him if it was dead. "I don't know, I just flung it across the street."

Jesus. That means it could COME BACK. Did I want him to bash its little mousy brains in? Maybe. I thanked him for the mouse removal, went back into the house, found my xanax, went into the kitchen to get water to take the pill and discovered that my kitchen sink was BACKING UP WITH BLACK SLUDGE. In less than 10 minutes, my house had turned from Shiny Happy Place Theater to Amityville Horror. I tried the garbage disposal and only got more black sludge and dirty water. I dry-chewed two xanax and decided I'd better start bailing the sink out before it overflowed.

I bailed into a bucket, was afraid to dump it outside BECAUSE OF THE MOUSE, so I dumped it in my bathtub, which promptly backed up. It was right around this point that I started checking the other rooms of the house to find out what demonic possession had overtaken them. If my fridge magnet letters had rearranged themselves to spell "you're dead" or if I'd even IMAGINED hearing "GET OUT" I would have run screaming from the house (after I grabbed Miss Kitty) with no shoes or jacket on.

I only got about four hours of sleep last night because I had to keep getting up to check for rodents and/or demonic sludge bubbling up from my drains. Not to mention the shame spiral I created by having to ask for help because I was afraid of a teeny little mouse.

Monday minutiae...

Heroes: The show I didn't think I'd get hooked on, but I did. I'm all geeked out about it. I even read the graphic novel episodes in between the TV episodes.

Superfoods: I tried to hit all 10 this weekend, but only managed about five. I bought some Clementines with the intention of eating them yesterday, but decided that eating dark chocolate for a snack made me happier.

Surfing: Skirt's MySpace page is growing and growing. All the cool kids are on MySpace now. Be our friend here.

Reading: An advance copy of a memoir called Sister Salty, Sister Sweet . I'm going to send it to my sister Katie as soon as I'm done so she can exhale and stop waiting for me to reveal all of our childhood secrets in memoir form. On my wait list: What is the What, Dave Eggers; Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name, Vendela Vida (coincidentally, she's married to Eggers); and Special Topics in Calamity Physics, Marisha Pessl (I've been putting this one off for a long time, but after listening to Pessl on KCRW's Bookworm podcast this weekend, I might have to bump it up on the list).

Listening: Starbucks Compilation "Crush on You" CD, which has one of my favorite Pink Martini songs AND Jeff Buckley. And Madeleine Peyroux, who will be in Charleston in March performing at the Music Hall.

The opposite of tedious...

"Bored" isn't quite it. What's the word for when you run out of words? You know, the one that describes how you feel when you just don't have anything new or interesting to say? Or maybe the one that describes not being able to come up with the right word?

That's what I am right now. I'm not bored; I actually have many things to do that are interesting and the opposite of tedious. I just don't have anything particularly remarkable to note here. At this time. Even I'm thinking, "what a lame excuse for a blog post that is."
Here was my week: same, same, same, different, same.



So I'll leave you with this:

This one time, at band camp...





(you didn't really think I'd go there, did you?)

Blog for Choice Day...

Today is the 34th anniversary of the Roe v. Wade Supreme Court decision that legalized abortion and NARAL Pro-Choice America is asking bloggers to post why they are pro-choice.



Why I'm pro choice:
I was lucky enough to have been raised by a liberal mother in a liberal household with three sisters. My mother was a feminist before being a feminist was cool and had strong beliefs about women being responsible for our own bodies and personal politics. Shockingly, I managed to make it through high school without getting pregnant, but I knew if it had happened to me I would have had my mother's support no matter what I chose to do. I wish all women had that same sense of security and support.

It's hard for me to imagine a world where someone else was entitled to make decisions about my body because I've never lived in one, but I do know that I will do every single thing within my power to help make sure we always have the right to make our own choices.

My uterus, my business. End of story.

Ten True Things

*I am a visual learner who wore out my last pair of contact lenses eight months ago because I’m too lazy to make an appointment.

*I’ve been waiting for my mid-life crisis for so long now that I think it already happened and I missed it.

*I am smart enough to get myself out of trouble, but not smart enough to avoid getting in it the first place (and have never been satisfactorily repentant).

*Every now and then I think, “Dinner party!” but I always have a change of heart when I realize I’ll be responsible for the food and conversation.

*I am a master of stating the obvious; I always thought it was strange that it was one of the things he liked about me.

*I thought the summer he moved away would be the worst one of my life, but it turns out that he knew better than I.

*The one-word insult I would least like to have directed at me: “Common.”

*I love to sleep. I once lost an argument, but not because I agreed with him; I gave in so I could go to bed and stop talking about it.

*I read a Harry Potter book once (at the urging of two friends who love the books) and I hated it. I leave the room when people start talking Potter.

*I believe in Karma: I throw gum on the ground, therefore I step in gum.

All work and no play...

Charlie called today to tell me that he's on day number 3 of being ice and snowed-in in Austin because of the freaky weather. He's bored. I'm jealous. He wants to get in his car and go somewhere. I want to be snowed in.

I want to have to stay home all day and eat cheese toast and paint my toenails. I have a stack of books I'm dying to read, long baths to take, non-work-related writing to do, thoughts to ponder while I stare at the cracks in the plaster. Charlie thinks he's about a day or so away from turning into Jack Torrance. I would pay a million dollars to build a maze of ice in my back yard and run screaming through the empty hallways of my isolated mountaintop hotel.

There is hope. I hear the ice and snow might be headed our way. Cross your fingers and say it with me: "Redrum...REDRUM!"

"Darling. Light, of my life. I'm not gonna hurt ya. You didn't let me finish my sentence. I said, I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just gonna bash your brains in."~Jack Torrance

One of us might have been drinking...or not.

I spent the better part of the weekend acting like a five-year-old with my friend Charlie. At one point on Saturday night, I called my mother (who is a shrink) for assistance.

Me: Mom, do cats give people schizophrenia?
Mom: What?
Me: DO CATS GIVE PEOPLE SCHIZOPHRENIA?
Mom: Who told you that?
Me: My friend Charlie.
Mom: (sounds disgusted) No, cats cannot give people schizophrenia.
Me: Are you sure?
Mom: They don't know what causes it for sure, but I think we can definitely rule out viral transmission. And cats.
Me: Charlie is SUCH a liar. I almost believed him.
Charlie-in-the-background: Kelly is SUCH a b*tch. Look it up online!
Mom: Does he need a referral?
Me: No, we're good.
Mom: Are you drinking?
Me: I'M not.

And that was pretty much that. Except after Charlie went home, I Googled it and apparently there is a theory that cats can give you a virus that causes brain lesions that cause schizophrenia. A crackpot theory, but a theory nonetheless.

I guess I need to break the news to my mom so she can pass it on to her cat-owning patients. And maybe apologize to my friend for being an asshole.

Here's a little something to keep your spirits up. It's real nice, I got it at Target. It was on sale.

My good friend Charlie is in town. He used to live in Charleston and we used to work together at a newspaper. I missed him like crazy when he moved to Austin because there is only a handful of people in the world who can make me laugh until I hurt. Charlie is one of them.

We cut school one day and went to see the movie "Secretary" in the middle of the afternoon. We were the only two people in the theater. Charlie spent more than half the movie talking on his cell phone.

We went to Target West Ashley on the day it opened because it was the first Target here and we were both thrilled sh*tless. Charlie brought his camera and took pictures all over the store. My favorite was the one I took of him wearing giant pink bunny ears with an angry look on his face. It was awesome. I wish I still had that photo.

This is a photo I took of him standing in the doorway of my office at the newspaper. It's pretty typical Charlie ("heyyyy, look at me, I'm so cool."). I have another one of him in a cowboy hat, but I'm pretty sure I'd become his arch nemesis for posting it, so I won't (but wouldn't it be exciting to have an arch nemesis?). I'd also probably become his arch nemesis for telling the story about him peeing off the dock during a fancy gala at the waterfront, so I won't do that either.

We're going out to dinner this evening. General hilarity will ensue.

The business of me: 2006 annual report

From the Slacking Off Department
Seasons of Northern Exposure watched: 5
High score on Ms. Pac Man PS2 Classic Game Pack: 35,900
Nap hours logged: 412
Hours spent surfing the Internet (non work-related): 1,245
Number of Netflix rentals (movies & television combined): 141

The Slacking Off Department would also like to report that, while much of the time spent in this arena seemed pointless and excessive, preliminary data indicates that this down time is vital to productivity in other areas, such as Bringing Home the Bacon and Making Ourselves Healthy.

From the Making Ourselves Healthy Department
Number of yoga classes attended: 4 *only represents month of December.
Bicycle mileage: 75 miles on seat, 2 miles walking alongside.
Carried on: Not drinking, not eating refined flour or sugar, and keeping the carbs below 50 a meal.
Average daily blood sugar: 90 (for the non-diabetics out there, we want to be between 60 and 115).

The Making Ourselves Healthy Department adds that, despite the success of controlling diabetes with diet, exercising, and feeling generally Well, being martini free for nearly two years has not improved my mood. However, it would also like to include a statement that I no longer believe size six to be the Gold Standard. I'm happy with 12 and plan to stay there.

From the What's Up With Our Love Life Department
Due to budgetary and time constraints, this department regretfully declines to participate in the 2006 annual report. It would like to add that it suspects that I have a black hole where my heart used to be and that I'm not getting any younger. It also goes on record as stating that continued weakness in this area could lead to a hostile takeover unless immediate attention is paid.

From the Career Success Department
Number of promotions: One (from senior editor to managing editor).
Number of workshops filled: Four.
Increase in income by percentage: Undisclosed, but it makes us happy.
Number of essays published: 12.
Number of book proposals accepted: One.
Number of books to be published: One (the same one).
Increase in happiness by percentage in relation to Career Success five years prior: 435%.
One year prior: 25%.

From the General Support System/Friends & Family Department
Number of hours I spent with family: Not enough.
Number of friends I dropped and feel really healthy about: One.
Number of friends who moved out of state: Three.
Number of friends who moved but stay in touch like they said they would: Three.
The most recently departed: Erin, for the Big Apple.
Friend with Most Seniority: MK, keepin' it real since 1993.
Friend with Second-Most Seniority: Monkey, though he's been slacking off on face time lately.
Friend who can get away with calling me a bitch: Charlie! Always.
Friend I miss the most right now: My gal pal Al.

Thanks for participating and we hope you'll continue to invest.

Sincerely,

Me

Let it go, let it go, let it go...

It's been a long, long (long) time since MK and I have been to a Cowboy Mouth show together. We've known each other for 12 (maybe 13?) years. When we were younger (and drunker), we spent a lot of time at live shows and hardly missed a chance to hang out with the crazy f*ckers from Cowboy Mouth. They still put on one hell of a live show. And I still get a kick out of being on the VIP list (even when MK has to call Mr. LeBlanc while we're standing at the door because he didn't get our names on the list before the show).

From left, MK and me. I think we're cuter now than we were in our 20s (I might put a few of those up if (1) I ever get around to scanning them and (2) she won't kill me for doing it). MK has more pics on her MySpace page, including a few of the band.

What I learned:
1. You cannot go to Alex's at 1am sober for a quiet meal. Annoying Drunk Girls are your punishment for once being an Annoying Drunk Girl. But grits are still good.
2. You can go out without fear of running into ex-boyfriends because they are also older, mostly married, and are home at night.
3. You can have a good time without (1) jumping on stage, (2) puking in the trash can outside, or (3) making out with a total stranger in the parking lot.
4. Friends who Knew You When are always better than New and Questionable Friends.
5. You can make Undesirables (who ask questions like, "does the carpet match the drapes?") go away by flashing your rosary necklace and asking, "have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?"

Rock on.