A Letter to My Cat

Dearest Momo,

We need to talk. There are some real issues in our relationship and, when I've tried to bring them up, you've bitten me. That's why I decided to write to you instead. I understand that it can be difficult to talk about your feelings so I thought that writing to you might make it easier for you to hear my concerns, process them and then respond in a more positive way.

I love you. I want you to know that but I also need some space sometimes. You are beautiful and affectionate and you have a great sense of humor. But lately, you've been clingy. Every time I sit down, you climb onto my chest and start purring. Believe me - I think you are a great singer and I loved it when you purred Rhianna's "Diamonds" to me the other night. It's just that sometimes I need to be able to do work on the laptop and when you come over and get between me and the keyboard it's just awkward.

When you were a kitten, there was plenty of space between your body and the keyboard but, since you've gotten older and - let me be frank - put on a little weight, it just doesn't work. Last night was the last straw because your big fuzzy ass was just all over the track pad and you were draped over my arm and I couldn't even type. I'm sorry to bring up the weight thing - like I said, I think you are beautiful and don't want you to change a thing about your gorgeous self but I do want you to consider sitting next to me instead of on top of me.

It's not just that though. We also need to talk about the dining room table. Lately, you've been lying on the table and it's almost like you are daring me to stop you. I move to get you off and you stare at me and it hurts, Momo. I just wonder how we got to this point. You used to make an effort and dart away but now it's like a standstill.

I realize that you might have issues with me too. I know you are still bitter that I bought that water bowl with the wide base so you couldn't knock it over anymore and I know I rubbed it in your face that I had outsmarted you. I take full responsibility for my immature response and I am sorry for sticking my tongue out at you while doing my victory dance. But you need to talk to me, really talk to me. Not wake me up at 3 a.m. by rustling a plastic bag and then hiding when I get up to talk. It's rude and it's exhausting.

I know change is hard and I am willing to be patient with you but I need to see some effort on your part to change. I know you love me (maybe a little too much) and I love you but all relationships require work and I think it's time we put some into ours.

I look forward to your response...which I really hope is not a dead mouse or bird left on the front stoop.

Love,

Vikki

p.s. Please stop following me into the bathroom or pawing at the door when I lock you out. Please.

Can We Just Recap?

This was my first week of freedom and it was quite eventful - volunteering, the launch of Lesbian Family, the election, the announcement about Listen to Your Mother and many great conversations. Oh...and I took the kids to the Roller Garden, bet all my money on skeeball and walked away with a pirate eye patch. Clearly, I am living the dream. Today, I'm tired and don't have many words.There are a few things that I wanted to call attention to, however, in case you missed them in the flurry of activity around here.

1. I wrote a Seussian goodbye to social work over at Aiming Low and am pretty darn proud of it. How often does someone work bed bugs and pee into a rhyming work? Truffula trees for all who read!

2. I wrote about the election results a little bit here on this ol' blog but had more thoughts to share over at Lesbian Family. That post is more of an exploration of my feelings over the course of the whole battle. Feelings...nothing more than feelings.

3. So, I got an e-mail a week or so ago from Jessica Watson who told me that she wanted to include me on a list of inspirational bloggers she was doing for SheKnows. How cool is that? Pretty darn cool! So, go check out the Top 10 Inspirational Bloggers. I feel so honored to have been included.

That's all I've got for you today. I spent all day at a martial arts tournament and every "HI-YA!" shouted by that roomful of children was like a karate chop to the brain. So, I'm going to sit back and make sweet, sweet love to a glass of ice water and enjoy a little quiet. I'll be back tomorrow with...well...I haven't quite figured that out yet.

Drip

I have had a cold and a lot of nasal congestion and I have chosen to share this struggle with you because I am a giver. Don't worry though, you can't catch my cold through the internet. I don't think you can. Actually, I make no promises because my legal budget is small. Yesterday morning, I woke after a night of mouth breathing and stumbled downstairs to start my day. I was thrilled to see that Zeca had already made a pot of coffee and, while it finished brewing, I went into the bathroom to blow my nose.

I blew and I blew and then when I stopped, my nose started dripping - three clear droplets fell onto my beloved hoodie. I have never had anything drip from my nose in my entire lifetime and these droplets were just like water.

I came to the only possibly conclusion: I was losing cerebrospinal fluid.

This was obviously disconcerting because I'm pretty sure that your brain needs that watery goodness to keep it all cozy in your brain box. Plus, if you brain dries out, it probably looks like a bad walnut. Have you ever cracked open a walnut to find it all black and shriveled? I could not face the idea that my brain would end up like a bad walnut.

Now some of you may be wondering why I would assume that I was losing cerebrospinal fluid rather than assuming that I simply had a runny nose. For the confused, I submit the following exhibits:

A. This entire blog documents my wacky and adorably neurotic nature.

B. As I mentioned, I had NEVER had anything drip from my nose.

C. When Miguel fractured his skull last December, the trauma doctor told us that if we noticed water dripping from his nose to get him to the ER as soon as possible because it would likely be cerebrospinal fluid and he would need surgery.

So I sat in the bathroom wondering if my brain was leaking. I did a little assessment of my cognitive faculties and, delusional concerns about leaking brain fluid aside, I seemed to be in tact cognitively. I decided that the best course of action was to drink coffee and monitor the dripping.

There was no more dripping. I didn't die. Most likely, my brain does not look like a shriveled walnut.

Now, I just have to accept that I'm a little gross for letting my nose drip onto my hoodie.

The End

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