I love all my roommates equally because I am an excellent fur-parent.

Always remember such things, don’t sweat the small stuff or you could lose your swagger, which I have read can be devastating. Or your dreams or momentum or joy could just pick up and head for Cabo leaving you listless and blue. Not things to be lost lightly.

Grain of salt.

No, you’re a saucy baby.

Marley was good enough to come along with Mother and I on Friday to the ER. I was coughing up all sorts of nonsense and felt like pickled death so Mother thought it was best to get checked out. After a four hour wait I was checked out and got an x-ray…no pneumonia! Hooray! I was so concerned the dreaded P was back. But I did have bronchitis which started with the flu and now has plateaued to a head cold and disgusting cough.

One of those real fancy ones that at the very ass end of the cough sounds like I am about to vomit.

We were forced to wait in the respiratory illness waiting room, the dreaded leper room. The mere sight of me, still masked, throwing away a kleenex in to the waste bin by the open door to the regular waiting area, struck fear in those non-respiratory patrons hearts. Not as much as the women who came in and loudly informed the triage nurses that she could not wait because she would surely vomit because she was soooooooooooooooooooooooooo ill.

What a hoe. She had to wait. Just like everyone else. Eye roll.

I’m biased. Maybe. A little.

Poor Mice…Harley made quick work of them soon after. Daisy got a few too.

Chrystal had these all in a little pile to herself.

Adorable.

Almost as much as the actual real and alive mouse currently reeking havoc in the pantry. TSC was sold out of humane traps a couple of weeks ago, must remember to go back to purchase such item. Anyway, so that mouse isn’t even being noticed as he gnaws through rubbermaid bins full of cereal and bread and baking goods. Not a single raisin has been left untouched and therefore they have been composted.

Real Mouse – 1

Housecats – 0

But it’s nice to get your period to fully realise you indeed are not losing your mind.

So yesterday, thanks to an episode involving a horse and slipping on a little ice I was essentially bedridden with pulled back muscles. Then I got my period. And then my reoccurring walking pneumonia/bronchitis reared it’s colourfully phlegm-ed head. Then I cried and gave myself a grand maul anxiety attack. Then my mom and cats took care of me.

My doctor isn’t big on following up so today Mom is taking me to emerge for an x-ray and some meds. My doctor said I would likely need two rounds of medication but she isn’t available to prescribe or requisition another X-ray so I guess It’s up to me to grab the bull by the pneumonia horns. I think fighting this thing for six weeks already is long enough. Two week wait for an appointment as well.

Mother thinks this is the universes way of telling me to slow down and take better care of myself and take a look at where things stand now. I think she’s right.

Renos are happening this weekend at Coyotes, soon the place will be ready and I am sad we have to postpone our planned painting and Ikea trip we had for this weekend. We need to choose a new blue…is there an app for that?

And others were gleeful that Coyote must now be my Prince Charming so when’s the wedding?

And another was assuming he must be my Prince Charming because why would I waste time with him now that I’m 30? And if this doesn’t work out then man, I’ll be 3_ and single again, what a waste of my time.

Huh?

You know ‘gag’ is in the middle of the word ‘engagement’ right?

When did moving in with someone, who you’ve been doing for a year, suddenly have to become a marriage because we’re over 30? I’m not saying I wouldn’t consider marrying that kicky Ginger and he is charming most certainly but it’s not all unicorns and roses. He watches too many sports, is a spendthrift and doesn’t want to quit smoking. I’m a mouthpiece dreamer asshole with my head in the clouds who longs to cat farm for the rest of her life and save everything stray she can find.  

We all have faults!

I understand being from a small town I am a minority being 30 and not having children or at the very least being married or engaged. But still I feel it archaic to assume such things. Peer pressure isn’t welcomed at anytime or on any subject. Neither is pity. (Yes, that has even happened too.) But if this doesn’t work out…and God forbid I was slightly older, this would be the end of the world?

Let’s break this down. I’m 30. He’s 34. When I am 80 and he is 84…we could be very happily surrounded by small ginger grandchildren, have a nice place in Boca and still dote on our gay son. OR. We could still be dating. OR. We could have gotten married, had a bunch of kids, eventually divorced and remarried and finally I get to sleep with Keanu Reeves and he gets to do Alyssa Milano. OR. We could decide to see other people for a bit. OR. We could just become co-parents to the cats and be roommates. OR we live together for a week and the cats and I have to slither back to the Mothership. OR…ANYTHING.

Stranger things have happened, never underestimate me about the Keanu thing.

The fact is, everyone needs to relax. Oprah’s not married to Stedman/Gail, are you concerned about her happiness too? I get your worried my eggs will dry up and i’ll end up old and alone with too many cats (dream come true for me). however I do not need you urgency pushed upon me. I am not urging. I am living day by day, raising three great cats and still enjoying a weekly Kinder Egg and not worrying about if or when or how Coyote feels about me on a  daily basis. 

We’re good. He’s a super guy. I’m a super girl.

So guess what? I’m not pregnant, married or engaged. But I am happy and thankful and in love and excited and always looking for an adventure. And I will be like that next year, and the year after and the year after and so forth and so forth. But thanks for worrying about my eggs.

I was once a non-believer. I was once like you. Couple of years ago I started having anxiety attacks and once a tsunami of realization hit me, I needed to make some monumental changes to my life. To deal with this I began expanding my social and activity circles, was up for trying anything new to relieve stress and introduce myself to new experiences, new techniques and their ilk. Slowing down my world. I was going warp speed.

So, every Wednesday, I went to a free meditation class at a local yoga studio. Me and some other granolas sat there and were guided through breathing. Every bit of breath accounted for, methodic and purposeful. Which was nice but all sorts of memories, reminders and general junk floated in to my mind when I was supposed to be relaxing. All I could concentrate on was the streetcar noise as it passed the studio, the traffic honks and general downtown audio ambiance.

This was not relaxing.

So after class one day I asked the instructor how does one cease all thought in order to meditate? Surely this was impossible! But there is a secret, a way around the dilemma; excuse those thoughts and memories and reminders. Just choose to not delve further in to them. Yes, you need milk but now is not the time. Acknowledge, dismiss, back to feeling your nostrils. It’s so simple, you never stop thinking but you consistently ground yourself and return to your breathing. You can’t eliminate the thinking.  

And yes turns out there are apps for that…and this. Some people prefer Tibetan Singing Bells as a background to meditation, some say classical music is the way but for me or nature sounds and spa music are the best.

And speaking of which here’s a great article on Meditation Vs. the Iphone while we’re on the subject.

I choose to love both but I only use Ipaddington to meditate, the second app I provide above has a nifty timer. Typically I meditate for ten to fifteen minutes only, sitting up, legs folded, comfy clothes, most often in bed. If I lie down I fall asleep and this defeats the whole purpose. Contrary to popular thought, I also meditate mornings. I feel it’s a good way to greet the day and these 15 minutes do not make me sleepy, it’s all zen.

Here’s another article I found on the topic of beginning meditation. Very interesting point of view here as well, great idea to gradually extend the time. Wish I had thought of that.

Red tea roses and a kicky monkey.

Tea roses are red, violets are blue, Marley is a monkey, so are you.

Happy Valentines from Marley!

 Beautiful! Look at everything so well organized and all that storage space…swooners.

 Naturally, for the meowies.

 I have girl wood for a good bed. I have one of those cheesy bed nets, oodles of different duvets and covers and an Ikea frog thing that is gigantic and has an air pocket inside guarding my bed alongside my Alec rabbit and Corrina, my childhood cabbage patch. Bed is good, I enjoy sleeping, it can cure all. And a romantic bed to Internet, read and snuggle in (amongst other fascinating activities) always makes my heart leap a little.   

If you live in an old boxcar does that indeed make you some sort of new-age hobo? I once saw a fascinating fight in the middle of an intersection between two homeless people. The dude standing beside me (I was not a spectator, I was merely attempting to cross said intersection) was so excited about this fight, he wanted to take bets like it was a futuristic version of railroad scrapping hobos.

Which is why I can never live in one of those above houses but can admire from afar.

 Public service announcement: Marten P. Kat reminds you to take a moment this Valentines and stop and sniff the roses.