The Sweetest Humble Pie

19 08 2011

We spent a couple nights camping, spent one night at home, then headed off for a couple of nights visiting family a few hours away.  Being gone on two back-to-back trips, we worried about leaving the cat alone so much.  Jason’s solution was to pack him up and take him with us to Jason’s brother’s house.


Wolverine is a young, independent, nocturnal handful of a country cat.  Not exactly road-trip-to-the-suburbs material.

I didn’t absolutely refuse to go along with the plan.  After all, having the cat with us would save me a certain amount of anxiety, knowing he was safe and not missing us.

But I predicted absolute misery.  We’d have to keep him locked in the house to keep him safe.  And I expected out-and-out mayhem all night long because of it.  Howling, cord-chewing, dog-chasing, toe-biting madness from our little furball, who typically spends his late evenings and early mornings hunting, and all night doing who-knows-what out in the BLM land.

We left late on a hot afternoon, and a rough couple of days seemed inevitable.  Charlie had just thrown up, sick from something he ate while camping.  I had to spend twenty minutes trying to adjust my car seat and two pillows to get my36-week-pregnant body comfortable for the long drive.  And we shoved the poor cat into his crate in the 110-degree car.

And he… slept.

Ah, well.  Sure.  He always sleeps in the afternoon.  Just wait until night falls.

We arrived, ate out, visited, and then I headed to bed.  And Wolverine jumped up on my feet and went to sleep.

Charlie came in, fully recovered from his stomach upset, and curled up on his bed, and went to sleep.

Eventually, Jason came to bed, too.


Still asleep.

I woke up at 8 the next morning, after a restful night of sleep, and Wolverine was still curled up at the bottom of the bed.

So I was wrong.  But looking at those three boys, snuggled and sweet and asleep…  Well, who cares about being right, anyway?

A little update:  So, yes, I was wrong, and I can totally admit it.  BUT… after 36 hours of being a sweet, purring fur puddle, the cat woke up at 2:30am on night 2 and proceeded to LOSE HIS SHIT.  Which resulted in very little sleep for me.  5am found me on the front porch holding a leash attached to a terror of a night beast.  By the time everyone else woke up, the sun was up and Wolverine had returned to his daytime state of sleepy sweetness.  Damn him.

A little side note: I actually googled “fur puddle” because it sounded kind of dirty.  But apparently it isn’t, I am just a pervert.

A final update: Within 2 hours of returning home and releasing the cat, Wolverine left most of a dead lizard on the front porch where our luggage was still piled.  I think there may be several interpretations of his message.  #1: Thank you for the awesome trip.  #2: Thank you for bringing me home.  #3: If you ever pull that shit on me again, remember I have teeth and claws and I know how to use them; now return this f*cking cat carrier and bring me some tuna.


36 Weeks / 1 Year

17 08 2011

Jason and I have been married for one year now.  Considering that I’ve pretty much been pregnant for that entire year, that we still don’t have a baby, and I have another four weeks left of being pregnant, I think that it’s pretty damn impressive that we’re still on speaking terms.  Most of the time.



My Name is Jill, and I Am A Procrastinator

6 09 2010

In the millions of details surrounding an event like a wedding, inevitably something will be forgotten.  It is especially true if you are hosting your wedding at your own home that has been under construction for several months, and have chosen to provide most of the food yourselves.

Something, as they say, has to give.

And that is how I found myself, exactly one week before my wedding, running into a jeweler’s shop, half way to hysterical.

“I need to get a wedding ring for my fiance,” I told the saleswoman.  “Before my wedding.  Which is Friday.”

“Okay, no problem!” she said, with calm assurance.  “What’s his ring size?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

Well, okay, small problem.

Jason didn’t want a wedding ring, and wasn’t much help when it came to discussing ring options, which was part of the reason I put off buying the ring for so long.  All that I could get out of him was that he had a slight preference for titanium.  And titanium rings aren’t sized.  And jewelers don’t typically carry multiple sizes in their stores, they order them once they know what you want.  So if I got the wrong size, I would be stuck with it.

It took me until Monday to get a size for Jason, leaving very little time to have the ring shipped.

“Please,” I begged the saleswoman, Kim.  “Ask if they can overnight it.”

They could.  And they did.

Here I am with Kim, picking up Jason’s ring with 72 hours to go.  I might look a little teary-eyed; that’s because we were having last-minute photographer issues.  But I had a ring.

* * *

As I left the house to go pick up the ring, Jason met me at the gate.

“I’m coming with you,” he said, rather curtly (we were both a bit tense from the stress at this point).

“What do you need?” I asked, irritated that I would have to run more errands.

“I have to find a shirt to wear to the wedding.”

Well, at least we have something in common…

Life at the Last Minute

24 07 2010

My mom and I went to Costa Rica as a final “girls-only” trip before I get married.  We planned for months.

With 24 hours left before we had to be at the airport, Jason decided he wanted to go camping.  He really wanted to go camping.

“What else do you have to do to get ready?” he asked.  “Decide which book to take?”

Oh, the boy knows me well – in fact, I had several library books, and needed to decide if I wanted to take the higher-interest hardback or the lower-interest paperback.

We went camping.

Here is the boy, clearly eager to spend every minute with me before I left the country (every minute he wasn’t fishing, that is):

Well, we did hang out together a bit, and close to the fire because, for July, it was cold.  So here we are, the happy couple:

Surprisingly, my mom and I made it to the airport on time.  I even had time to shower.  All I forgot, in the rush the next day, was my toothbrush.  And my fleece jacket.

And for those of you who are as nerdy as I am and are therefore desperate to know: I took the hardback.

My Mom Told Me, “If You Can’t Say Something Nice…”

24 06 2010

Jason and I are planning an unconventional wedding.  It’s perfect for the two of us, as we each have our own way of bucking conventions.  Mostly, it’s been a good laugh, and we have had overwhelming support from people who know us, and even from people who don’t.

And, really, what could be more fun than a wedding inspired by a horror movie?

So I was shocked, downright appalled, hurt, and horrified to receive this RSVP card in the mail:

Really, an invitation to a wedding is not a solicitation of opinion or judgement.  Who sees an RSVP card as an opportunity to vent?

But I thought about it for awhile.  Jason Voorhee’s mother saw summer camp as an opportunity to vent (by murdering dozens of innocent people, but still…), and we are using our date of Friday the 13th as a jumping-off point for our whole wedding.

And, really, our wedding is all about celebrating the unusual, the out-of-the-ordinary, and the unconventional.  And what is more conventional than manners?  So I suppose, upon reflection, this response is right in the spirit of our wedding plans.

I was forming a variety of acidic responses to the sender of that card as I walked my dog this evening.  My thoughts were interrupted by this amazing moment:

I was stunned by the sight of this little family, not fifteen feet from the path on which Charlie and I were walking.  I snapped this shot as I tried to block them from Charlie’s vision.

You know what?

They don’t give a damn about the theme of my wedding.

And in all honesty, I don’t either.

I care about the man I’m marrying.

We Have A Couch, Too

27 05 2010

Me: My mom has a rug we can use in the bedroom.

Jason: Isn’t it, like, a straw rug?

Me: It’s like sisal or jute.  I like the natural rugs better than the kind we have in our living room.

Jason: We have a rug in our living room?

Um, yeah.  We do.


8 05 2010

Don't Wake Me Up

Jason took our dog, Charlie, over to the new house for a night.  I spent a fitful night alone in the rental house without my boys.  They finally came home the following night, quite late (past 10!), and Jason crawled into bed.

“What are you doing?” I whined, unhappy at being woken in the middle of the night.

“I thought you’d want to cuddle.”

“Go cuddle on the couch,” I mumbled.  “I’m sleeping.”

At 6 the next the morning, however, I was thrilled to wake up to both the boys in the house.  I let Jason sleep, but attacked Charlie, who had been peacefully sleeping in the living room.  I flopped on top of him, rubbing his ears and his chin and talking ridiculous baby talk to him.

He blinked blearily at me.  Charlie doesn’t speak, but he communicated his thoughts quite clearly: “Go cuddle in bed,” he told me.  “I’m sleeping…”

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