The Phases of Zelda

It's pretty common knowledge that I am a tremendous cat person.  I like cats so much, in fact, that I have three of them.  I put a lot of thought into the kitties that I have - aesthetically I mean - and so I have three lovely kitties which appeal to my vanity in various ways.  Elvis is white with a mohawk and two different colored eyes, Sirius is a floppy tuxedo cat with super long teeth, and Zelda is a redhead with green eyes.  Needless to say, they are cuter than a basket of kittens, the lot of them.

When we brought Zelda home on the first day she could not have been less pleased with her change of circumstances.  She never stood all the way up, instead slinking around the house in a permanent crouch and crawling into the nearest cabinet space available to avoid us.  We were pretty impressed that she knew how to open doors because, dude, she's a cat!  We were also kind of devastated that we had adopted this chubby, hateful little hussy of a cat.

(hussy Zelda)

 It didn't take her very long to warm to us though, and soon she was the lap cat I had always dreamed of (Elvis and Sirius don't play that).  A couple of months into her time with us, we had to stop closing the door to our bedroom at night because she would go all juggernaut cat and ram herself into the door until one of us gave in and let her in.  At this point she sits with us at the table while we eat dinner.

LIKE A HUMAN. 

(Human, dinner table Zelda)

She sits on the toilet seat every morning and watches me get ready for work and, as long as I am walking around the house, she is always right behind me.  At night in bed, if I roll over, she has to adjust herself to ensure that there is an adequate measure of contact between her body and mine.  This last part ended up keeping me up half of the night last evening as I have a newly minted tattoo on my back.  I cannot lay on it and neither can she.  As many times as I pushed her away she pushed back.  WTF Zelda?

she must sleep on my fanny!

 Ladies and gentlemen, what is next?  I want to say that this bothers me, but I love it.  I finally have a cat that doesn't mind me bothering the shit out of her!  The catch is just that I have to be cool with her bothering the shit out of me back - I can handle that.

Goals for 2012

2011 was fantastic, but no year is without undesirable aspects.  The most important thing to me is that we learn from the bad and constantly work to improve those characteristics of our situation which we are unhappy with. 

I don't believe in "New Year's" resolutions to modify behavior, because I feel like those modifications should be made as one becomes aware of them.  Why people choose to wait until January to assess themselves and commit to improvement is beyond me.  I do, however, believe in setting goals. 

SO:

• Cory and I collectively aim to go out less, thus saving money for more important things.
• The back yard will be overhauled, period.  Moose has made his best effort to destroy any semblance of what was formerly a source of pride for yours truly and I believe I have identified a way to make it so that even our natural disaster of a puppy can't eff it up.
• Take ownership of the dog my father in law very unceremoniously stuck us with - and be glad about it.
• Make improvements to the house.
• Travel - TRAVEL - Travel - t r a v e l
• Unsubscribe to mailing lists for the myriad stores that flood my inbox on a daily basis and make me think that spending money is a good idea.  DONE
• Call my mother EVERY day.
• Take at least one photo per day.
• Blog more.
• Yelp more.
• Cellar more beer.

A year is a long time so I am hopeful that most, if not all, of these things will happen.  Honestly, I am just stoked to spend another year with my amazing partner and our ginormous family of pets.

2011 was a very good year

January

Saint Arnold One Pot Showdown, general fun times

February

First Tattoos

March

Brought MINI Home

April

Epic Party for Mister Petty and Zoe, respectively (also, epic beard for Mister Petty)

May

Graduated from College (official philosopher), a lot of logic was happening in order to graduate.

June

Zoe Graduated from High School, general love

July

Matching Anniversary Tattoos, monster jeep, ZELDA!

August

Rusty Riders Cycling, poor hair decisions

September

(Don't ever let anyone tell you tattoos don't hurt)

October

Pumpkin carving party, Zombie apocalypse, general couple cuteness

November

Davis nuptials, monsters of beer, general Christopher cuteness

  

December

Lights in the Heights, Epic hat party, general Zelda cuteness

Welcome 2012!

It's Houston Beer Week Y'All!

I just wish I had tons of money to throw at the myriad beer dinners and various events taking place on this holiest of weeks...

As of last Saturday I am twenty six years old – that’s a really grown up number. I suppose that, when compared to some twenty six year old people, I sort of have my shit together. Of course, that’s only some of them. I suppose I could be an attorney, medical student, movie star… that would be much more impressive. I think back now to the milestones that I have accomplished and they suddenly seem much more serious than they did when they were happening.

• I have been married for five years. FIVE of them.
• I own a house (or at least half of one).
• I buy cars like they are going out of style.
• I own four pets.
• I finished college.
• I have a career (for now).

How is it that I am old enough to have any of these things? Because I am twenty six, that’s how. Twenty six is just past the age when you tell someone how old you are and they reply “Oh, you’re just a baby!” My dear and gentle friends, I am not a baby any more. Long passed are the days where was the youngest person in the office. In fact, I just learned that my boss and I are the same age. Good grief!

That statement finds me wanting badly to launch into a boorish diatribe about my work situation, but perhaps I will save that for another day. I want to stay positive because I am twenty six years old, and I am happy. SO happy and proud of what I have accomplished thus far. SO happy and hopeful for the things I have yet to accomplish. Also, hopeful that I will not put my foot in my mouth for using the word “hope”.

As they say, “Hope is a demon bitch”.

I never really gave much thought to Mad Men in all of these years that it has been running (however many that is). It probably has a lot to do with my loathing of television - that time is better spent cultivating more interesting hobbies, right? I knew next to nothing about it, and the only things I did know were based on curiosity after many mentions of my similarities to "that red head from the show". That red head from the show, one Miss Joan Holloway, is amazing by the way. I guess now would be the time to thank all of those random strangers, colleagues, (etc.) for the (somewhat misguided) reference. Thanks!

Recently I decided that I would give Mad Men a shot. I had spent the entire day refinishing my childhood vanity so I had been productive. I was exhausted and alone at home and it seemed that watching TV wouldn't be that bad.. Boy howdy is it beautiful! I think I am probably glad that I waited because now I can watch every single episode from the first four seasons at my leisure. That, friends, is pretty awesome. Less awesome is that I no longer need to accomplish anything productive to allow myself TV time. Those rules don't apply to Mad Men.

But I digress....

What I found notable is that, back in my days at that death pit of a former employer I worked for, I heard a lot of Mad Men references. At the time none of them really resonated with me (for obvious reasons). The only thing I picked up on was the rampant philandering because, let's face it, you really don't have to watch the show to be hip to that. Aside from the banging of secretaries and colleagues and subordinates and prostitutes (and mostly just anything with a vagina), there was also plenty of drinking on the job. Although it is hard to describe, there was also the same underlying tone of acceptable sexism. Honestly, the former probably applies more to one segment of the business than the other, but the latter was throughout the entire place.

It's kind of hilarious. (okay, okay, I guess you had to be there.)

Let me tell you about Shalimar... I.WANT.IT.

Shalimar was first introduced in 1925, and it continues to be one of the most well known and longest running fragrances on the planet (EVER) - at least that is how I (and my love of superlatives) understand it.

I don't want just any Shalimar though, I want the pure perfume Shalimar. Therein lies the problem... The absolute cheapest bottle I can find, which is new, costs $131.00 - not bad, right?

But I don't want a new one, I want an aged one. Those, my friends, cost anywhere from $300 to $600 and even more. MORE THAN THAT. I have scoured the interwebs on my piddly corporate lunch break like a boss, but to no avail. Is this something I ask Santa for, or do I just suck it up and buy the new one? I am getting this - that's all I can say.

I know, life's big problems... le sigh.