Epic Failure

So, I have been trying to fall asleep for a little bit, and had this brilliant idea to blog.  Blog about what, I don't know.  It started out to be a post about how my life is boring and in need of some "spice".  But then I didn't want to seem like I was complaining because my life really is blessed, and change brings about so much anxiety for me.  Really, I am content with things as they are. 

Then I thought about writing about my summer time adventures with Dairy Queen Blizzards, backyard bonfires, and buddies, but currently lack the inspiration and creativity to make that specific blog post worth reading.

Of course, I could write about rescuing a lame squirrel, followed a month later by saving a young Robin.  But that is pretty much the story.  I saved a squirrel.  I saved a bird. 

Naturally there is always the subject of my cats, but the title of "Crazy Cat Lady" is already beginning to adhere so I have to ease up on my cat love for now. 

So this is my epic failure of a blog post.  And, sadly, that is all I have for the moment.......

My 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon

I have been told I resemble a variety of celebrities:  Meg Ryan.  Nancy Kerrigan.  Leah Remini.  Leona Lewis.  None of them resemble one another, and I really don't see my likeness to any of them.  However, all are pretty favorable to be compared to, so I am not complaining.

The other day at work, a teenager, who happens to have asperbergs, informed me that I look like Jon Bon Jovi....only in female form.  At first I was insulted to be compared to a male 12 years my senior, but then I googled him.

And had to admit, that I could see the resemblance.  We both have piercing blue eyes, kinda shaggy dishwater color hair, and an angular face.  Mine minus the facial five o'clock shadow (I hope!).   In fact, I can see myself in Jon Bon Jovi more than I can see myself in Meg, Nancy, Leona, or Leah.

(And, a strange aside here, if I ever was blessed enough to have a baby girl, her name would most likely be "Jovie".)

Now how does this all connect to Kevin Bacon, you may ask.  Bear with me.  It has been said that all people can be traced back to Kevin Bacon within 6 degrees, and I found my 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon......kinda.

1.  I have always thought my brother, back before he got into drugs, resembled Kevin Bacon.
2.  I have always mixed up Kevin Bacon and Jon Bon Jovi and can't really tell them apart.
3.  The teenager told me I looked like Jon Bon Jovi.  Since I get him mixed up with Kevin Bacon, I must also look like Kevin Bacon
4.  Since I obviously resemble my brother, who happens to resemble Kevin, it stands to reason that, I too, must resemble Kevin on some level.
5.  The teenager later said that I also looked like Kevin Bacon

Blue eyes, shaggy dishwater hair, angular face.  

So, there you have, my "connection" with Kevin Bacon in only 5 degrees.

It could always be worse, though, a patient once told a staff member that she (the staff member) reminded that patient of Sponge-Bob.  The patient was blind.  Like, for real, she was blind.

Starting a New Job

I really want to blog, but have no ideas what to write about.  I could write about how Tino has become too smart for his own good.  (He has finally learned how to escape.  He is almost in the same league as Houdini.  Though it allows him to make some new neighborhood friends, it about gives me a heart attack just thinking about the "what ifs".  If he gets much smarter, he may just ruin the privilege of going out in the outdoor cat area, for him and for the others.) 

Even though I already kinda blogged about that, I don't want to write an entire blog entry about my cats yet again. 

When cats don't make good blog fodder, I guess that leaves work.  In the last 13 plus years I have been at work, never has there been this much upheaval and change.  Change is certain, necessary, and anxiety producing.  Especially for me.  Change scares me.  It forces me to come outside of my comfort zone.  I have created a nice little, sheltered box for myself and to venture outside of that box is much like an agoraphobic exiting their house for the first time.  I feel like I can't breath; my tummy turns flip;, I want to run away back inside never to emerge again. 

But without change, there is no growth.  Growing and learning is fun and exiting!  It keeps work interesting, and these changes have the potential to help me do my job even better.  In the meantime, I feel like I am starting over at a new job.  And maybe, I won't be as good at my new job as I was at my old one. 

Playing Favorites

Its been a while!  I haven't been neglecting you, dear blog, its just that I have nothing to write about these days.  I have been consumed with cell phone games, namely Draw Something and Words With Friends.  Yes, those games are more addicting than ice cream! 

First things first, Let me say Happy 2nd Birthday to my blog!  The celebration, or lack thereof, happened just a few days ago.  That momentous event did not go unnoticed by me, but again, I was too busy trying to draw a frog with my finger on my cell phone.  So, Happy Birthday!

This post is not about not blogging, however.  Nor is it a post about my innumerable obsessions.  Instead it is about my CATS!  After all, what else is there to talk about when nothing much is going on, right?

Tino is most definitely my favorite cat.  Most "parents" don't admit they have a favorite, but I certainly don't hid that fact.  I hope my other two cats don't notice the extra food in Tino's dish everyday or get jealous when they hear me utter "I Wuv you" all day long to my best buddy.  But believe it or not, this isn't about him either.  Nor is it about Milo, a favorite among many friends and family members because of his squishy face and gentle soul.

Nope, this time it is about Muffy.  She is nobody's favorite.  Don't get me wrong, I love her dearly; its just that her annoying habits are, well.....annoying.  She licks at my bare skin, she claws on the furniture, and she chews cords. 

Most of my cords in the house do have cord protectors around them, but this morning she found a bare cord to sink her teeth into.  Don't worry, she didn't get electrocuted or anything (but would anybody really care if she did?).  Oh, I would care deeply; I just don't think "outsiders" would give a rip.

So this morning she was chewing away, and I was annoyed.  I kicked my laundry basket at her in hopes of scaring her away from the outlet, which did work.  However, it also hit Muffy which startled her and possibly hurt her a bit.  She walked away from that outlet, turned her little orange head towards me, and uttered a "fuck you" meow like no other.

I felt bad because my intention was not to hurt her.  Well, she was pissed.  She was so pissed that she didn't come running like she always does when I poured my cereal.  Rather, she was hiding out behind my chair peeking at me with cat squinty eyes.  Booring guilt into my soul.  Immediately I apologized and walked over to pick her up for some "I'm Sorry" snuggles.  But she ran away from me!!  She ran downstairs.  The ultimate shove off. 

Tears welled up in my eyes thinking she was going to hate me forever.  I had to leave for work and spent most of the day fretting over what I would come home to.  Afraid maybe she pulled some cat shenanigans like barf on my bed or pee in my clothes.  Or worse yet, that she would run away when she saw me.

None of that was so.  In fact, as I am writing this, she is snuggled up on my lap purring.  Maybe we both learned a lesson today, but I am afraid she will return to chewing on cords in no time.  And, look, she got a whole blog post about her!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to drawing with my finger.

My Valentine

Every Valentine's Day I get a special Valentine in the mail from a man who loves me so much.  My Daddy.  What makes it extra special is that I know my dad goes shopping, picks out the card, and even addresses the envelope himself.  One would have to know my dad in order to understand the complexity and motivation all of that entails for him.  He is not one to do anything for himself.

His cards always make me giggle.  Usually they are are meant for a juvenile daughter as seen below:

Or the Disney Princesses:

In his eyes, I will always be his little girl.  This year, though, the card was a little different.  It was meant for a more mature reader, but it was meant for a daughter to give to her father, not the other way around:

Either way you look at it, the message is still the same, and the "error" makes it all that more endearing.  I save each of his Valentine's cards as they are probably the only thing that has been given to me by him and him alone.  He does it without any help or coaxing from my mom.  I do believe he even places the stamp on the envelope and places the card in the mailbox himself.  And for those reasons, it makes my Valentine's Day cards from my dad, the most important cards I will ever receive. 

Happy Valentine's Day!

After Hours "Rafting"

How many people are lucky enough to have a job that allows them to go Rafting at 10:30 at night (and get paid for it).  Don't tell my boss, but I am in that fortunate group of folks. "Rafting", you ask? "That's right", say I.  Rafting... or dancing... or kick ball... or mending shark tanks... or exercising reflexes on the ever intimidating Reflex Ridge. 

The Unit just acquired an XBox Kinect, and I'm not sure who has been enjoying it more:  the kids or the staff. 

Once all the children are nestled all snug in their beds, the staff come together for the best hour of the work day.  Its a great team building and bonding time for us.  We get to genuinely laugh and experience fun all the while getting paid.  Not to mention burning off all the stress eating calories consumed throughout the course of a shift.  Of course our fun is interrupted every 15 minutes to check on the kids ensuring there is no hanky panky going on (but as we know, those tricky teenagers can perform hanky panky under blankets during a movie with staff right in front them :) )

The real benefit of that final hour of the night is not solely for fun and laughs.  Its a time to let go of all the sad stories we are immersed in each and every day.  A time to escape the world of suicide, acting out, and self injury. Instead of bringing home all the pain, we are able to leave it on the River Rapids or at Reflex Ridge. 

That XBox is a built in therapy "necessary" for both the patients and the staff.  One I intend to take full advantage of.  Just don't tell my boss.

Freedom

My niece finally moved out.  This makes me both ecstatic and a little bit sad.  Ecstatic because I have my house to myself again.  I can pee with the door open, move around without wondering if I am disturbing the resident in my basement, and leave my house without worrying if there will be a drug deal or a robbery (or worse) at my house.  I have reason to believe she acquired a gun so the potential certainly existed for some shady shenanigans.

However, I really wanted to be the person who turned my niece around.  The hero.  The person she remembered to have been the only one who believed in her when everybody else abandoned her.  The one she thanked, years from now, when she was somewhat successful because of the guidelines I set up for her when she came here. 

.........The one that would visit me in the nursing home when I have nobody left...........

Not all bad came of this, though.  She did get a job which is a big step.  Whether or not she'll keep the job remains to be seen, but at least she is a productive member of society for the time being.  She seems to be be free from shooting up (though I think she is using synthetics).  The vial of liquid turned out to be........water (though I don't doubt her mom would have lied for her).

And the manner in which she left my house was not confrontational or difficult.  It was a mutual decision once she got her job in Cloquet.  She can't drive; therefore, getting to and from her job would have proved quite challenging.  Plus, I kept the invitation open of visiting me on weekends or whenever. 

At any rate, I am happier, considerably less stressed, and am embracing my ability to pee with the door open.