Lost & Found

Shortly after our move I misplaced my blackberry. No internet and no blackberry meant no work.

(Okay, I *could* have worked - but let's keep working this excuse.)

The night we moved into our new place we went to bed with three cats (shhh...if anyone asks it's only two) on the balcony.

When we woke up the next morning there were only two cats.

Uh oh.

So I ran out the door to see if there was cat splatter on the sidewalk below. Fortunately, before I got very far, I ran back in and put some clothes on.

Dressed, I took a walk and I looked...and called...and looked...and then noticed the Brueggers bagels and got some breakfast.

The cat was no where to be found. I wandered back up and broke the news to my daughter.

Not a good moment.

She has never known life without this old boy of ours. Proving that she is definitely my daughter she immediately formed a plan and took action. She created flyers and put them up everwhere - using up ALL of my color ink in the process.

Several days passed and no Snickers. A visit to World Market included buying some floor pillows for the two remaining cats (I dream of keeping them from sleeping on my face...I am *allergic* damnit.) Chris looked at me and said "two or three."

I damn near burst into tears.

14 years ago I walked into a petstore to buy pinkies for youngest son's snake and on the other side of the store was this cage FULL of kittens. They were sleeping, and playing, and climbing, and meowing. All except one. THAT one locked eyes with me and did not break his stare even once as I crossed the store to get to the cage - and that kitten. It was clear to everyone that I had been chosen.

He came home with us and a year later Gwen was born. My fondest memory - Gwen crawling out of her room in the morning and Snickers greeting her with the cat head bump. You want to know what a crying cat sounds like? Come to our place when she has gone off to school and he is looking for her. Theirs is a true love.

Sunday we made our way to the Shelter where we were told that if they had him they'd know - a cat like that would stand out. But we looked anyway. We looked at 70 cats/kittens all wishing they could come home with us - and none the one we were looking for. We came home and made a deal - we were going to believe he'd found a good home and was so wonderful that his new family just couldn't bear to give him up.

We'd understand.

I found my blackberry at 10:30 last night. I did not read email. Really, 10 hours before going back to work isn't that just stupid?

Last night at 11:30 my phone rings. It's the front desk folks in our building. "Ma'am" said Rick "I think we have your cat."

We stumbled out of bed, knocked over a lamp, tripped over the comforter, and made our way to the closet to get dressed. Actually, I did that. Chris woke up with my ruckus and when he learned what was going down he swung his legs over the bed and calmly slipped a pair of shorts on. (Why is it that no matter WHAT is happening, men can always get dressed faster?)

We then half ran, half stumbled to the elevator, made our way downstairs and tried to process where we were supposed to go when we rounded a corner and sure enough, there sat Snickers - calmly sitting there looking at us with a look that said "what in the HELL took you so long?"

I scooped him up and we headed back into the apartment and then crept into my daughter's room and then whispered her name so she would wake up.

The look on her face when she realized who it was is what makes me cry now. Happy tears.

Stupid cat.

Stupid cat I love.

NL

Did you say something?

I am the oldest of five kids. This means that I am very good at tuning out noise, especially talking, and creating my own special little quiet place.

This means that at any given time I can be on the couch and suddenly realize that Chris is talking. He usually has been chatting away for quite some time before I realize it.

A moment ago I realize he is having a onesided conversation and I say "are you talking to me?"

He says "no, I was talking to Beau but expecting you to listen."

Oh.

No.

No. No. No.

Someone get me off this slippery slope.

But call my name first - otherwise I won't hear you.

NL

And here I am

all moved in to the new place finally...mostly.

Feet up on the new couch.

Internet all wired up (I install the server tomorrow) with PC's in every room EXCEPT the two baths.

TV in 3 rooms.

And HGTV on all of them.

It's a sickness I tell you.

NL

Confessions of an Addict

57 boxes of books.

Roughly 60 boxes of everything else.

My life is largely packed up and I can't walk through the apartment without bumping, tripping, or stumbling several times as I weave through the stacks.

Last Saturday I flipped on the TV for background noise as I packed a few more boxes. Somehow I tripped over a show called "Property Virgins" and that was the end of it.

HGTV has become my addiction. I am hooked. I am driving Chris crazy because it is ALL I watch. He tries to wrestle the remote away from me - I sit on it. He begs and I am without mercy. He tells me there are two TV's, I say "yes but I was at this one first." This one is the big screen.

I wake up, flip it on. We go to sleep to it. At work I think about getting home and settling in. I can tell you about "First Time Homebuyer" or "House Hunter International" or "Save My Bath" or "Cash in the Attic" and not only that but I've gotten pretty good at the price guessing and figuring out which house the buyer/renter will choose. Oh, and I am SO opinionated when it comes to those million dollar vacation homes.

We take possession of the new place tomorrow. We move into it on Tuesday. Maybe, just maybe, once these boxes are gone and we are settled in this craving for all things home will go away.

I hope so. Otherwise someone will need to come and rescue Chris.

NL

Ummm....Hi...it's Me

I have not blogged in nearly two months.

This is because I have done nothing and I hate the world.

Okay, not really. Well, sort of not really.

Since my last entry a brother, a nephew, a niece, and a sister have all had birthdays. I didn't visit them for any of these even though they only live 45 minutes away. When my niece had her birthday I was all the way in New Mexico. I have no excuse for the rest.

Except that I'm packing. Endlessly.

We picked our apartment. It is even more fabulous than the one I described in my last blog post - nearly 2 months ago. And cheaper. Oh, and no one has ever lived in it before.

Not only do we need to pack up everything we own BUT Chris has decided that we should get rid of a bunch of stuff and replace it with new stuff. So we've been packing, purging, and purchasing.

I am in hell.

This past weekend I sorted out our bar. It was a mystery.

Gin? Almost gone. I love gin.

Vodka? Barely touched. I hate vodka.

Single Malt Scotch? Do not touch. It's my favorite maker.

Lymon Cream? Ryan's Cream? Bailey's Irish Cream? Hey! How long does this stuff last? Is it real *cream?* It's three years old. Toss out.

Vioga Wine? Worst. Wine. Ever. Cool bottle. Toss.

Vermouth? Is this a kind a wine and therefore, does it spoil? I think yes. Chris says no. I'll keep it until he isn't looking then throw it out.

Creme to Cacao? Is it supposed to be *that* dark?

Aftershock? OMG! I love that stuff! I forgot I had it.

So went my waltz through our liquor cabinet - made better only by the fact that there is an ABC (Alcohol Beverage Control) store across the street from us in the new place. Just in case I decided wrong and Bailey's *doesn't* go bad.

But I am sober, and packing, and purging, and purchasing all while trying not to lose my temper at work and shout "you have JOBS people - can't you just do them and be grateful?" as I try to figure out why I am supposed to worry about whether they are also fullfilled. Fullfilled? Seriously?

A dear friend of mine is an older very high performing man with an amazing work history and has been on the job hunt for 10 months. Bad economy. Younger is cheaper. But you get what you pay for.

So I haven't posted because I'm busy. And sometimes I hate the world. Oh, and I'm trying to be fullfilling.

NL