things that are great about today, vol. 2

OH MAN P.S.!!!

Today is the 1-year anniversary of Becca and I adopting Fox Kestrel and Malachy, respectively. I love these dudes.

Even though your pee smells awful, it is totally worth having you around, cat friends.

You wake up to find yourself buried underground. Describe what happens next.

First matter of business. I've been reading Dinosaur Comics for a long time, and my opinion on it has ranged from "this is the best thing ever" to "meh" at various points. Today, however, delivered. For me*, at least. I would like to be friends with Ryan North.
*I am amused by both the concepts of "GAY" and "DUDES," in case it was not already clear.

Image: B., summer 2005. Homemade Dinosaur Comics tee shirt.

There hasn't been much I've wanted to say lately, which is why this is the first update in a long time! I've been toying with the idea of visiting Brooklyn (actually, some good friends in Brooklyn), but I might have to earmark the money I'd be spending on travels for other, less exciting things. Like late fees on tax filing. Blrgh.

OH! This terrifying thing happened last night at 3:30am: I woke up in a state of confusion, because I typically sleep in deep and total oblivion, impervious to all outside stimuli (not unlike my usual state at work). Something was making an UNHOLY mechanical whirring-churning-chrrrhcrrrchrrrrhcrrrchrrrr sort of noise, but it took me several seconds to orient myself enough to notice that this was probably what had woken me up. Next to me, Malachy was sitting up where he had been curled next to my pillow, sending me assurances: "Something's going on here. I think. I'm going to sit here for a while, and if anything bad happens, I'll be... over there." It took me clambering out of bed and tottering around to identify the radiator as the culprit of the noise, but then I spent the next 5 minutes wondering if I should call my landlord Peter, or just go sleep on the couch in case toxic levels of carbon monoxide were somehow seeping out of my radiator and would kill me in a matter of minutes. Doesn't carbon monoxide poisoning make you really sleepy? God, I was so sleepy. And it would be so cold and uncomfortable on the couch. Maybe I should just crawl back into bed and hope for the best.

I was not having this dream.

I found out this morning that I had nothing to worry about, which is good, because I gave up after the power cut out and back on a couple of times, and finally came back without the whirring-churrrrhghrghrrrchrrrrrchrrrrrrrrchrhghghrrrrrrring (and then I spent another 5 minutes worrying that the radiator was nevertheless going to explode a couple of hours later and kill me in my sleep). Anyway... we have no heat! Until Landlord Peter gets the pump - seriously why the hell is it so loud is there a good reason for that? - fixed. But the nice thing is, he's a very thorough and attentive landlord, likely due in large part to the fact that he lives below us, and was the one killing and reanimating the power as he fiddled with breaker switches last night. At 3:30am! Maybe closer to 3:45 at that point.

Jesus Christmas, I am tired.

a buddy in peril

This week has been strangely marked. The weather, hotter than usual, has left me groggy in the mornings. And, there have been nightly concerns to keep me up late when I have sworn I would retire earlier: Brock's cat has had serious troubles with his urogenital tract and given us some major scares. Tuesday night, he was squatting all over Brock's room and it was discovered that he had blood seeping from his willie. Brock rushed him to an emergency vet (AVETS in Monroeville), a catheter procedure was done to remove a urinary blockage, and Brock barely covered the payment for the outpatient procedure when an inpatient procedure would have been far preferable. With limited funds, though, there was essentially no option.

Oh Hay Buddy, How's It Goin', a cat.

The buddy seemed okay until last night, when he started peeing everywhere and then only passing tiny blood-tinged drops. We were pretty wrecked over it, especially because most vet treatment facilities offer limited options in payment plans, and it looked for a while like the buddy might have to be laid to rest to prevent suffering due to lack of funds. Thankfully, some helpful suggestions from posters on your local notboto board prompted us to hold on to some hope. Brock encouraged the buddy to drink, instead of withholding water for fear of bursting his (presumably blocked) bladder, and he found a payment solution via the CareCredit card. The situation is still a little uncertain, but last I heard from Brock's report, the little dude had managed a few instances of substantial weeing in his box overnight. He is taking the dude to see a vet today.

This whole trial has made me seriously consider getting some pet health insurance for Malachy, or simply applying for a credit card for cases of emergency like this one. I can't countenance the notion of having to give up on one of my favorite little dudes in all the world because I don't have the funding to save his ass. I was tore up enough over the idea of having to lose the buddy.

Fingers crossed for OHBHIG, King of Cats. We haven't had enough of his antics yet.

that's entertainment

I made vegetarian Cornish pasties last night, after coming across this recipe at Albion Cooks. Frankly, I was terrified that I'd screw up the dough, because I had never made pie crust or a pastry in my life. Turns out it wasn't so bad. Turns out the rough puff pastry recipe I used totally kicked ass. I am now jonesing for a pastry blender to make the process totally painless (cutting in the butter with a fork was kind of annoying, and I freaked out at one point with the fear that leaving too many large clumps in would ruin everything! EVERYTHING! but it turns out that dumping an arbitrary amount of cold water into the mix was fine, and then dusting it with a little flour and refrigerating it for a half hour while I made up the filling was also okay, and in the end I was so pleased with the results that I have now told Brock and Becca, posted on Facebook about it, and, finding those measures unsatisfying, have brought my glee to this blog. I bet I'll tell anyone who happens into the lunch room today about my triumph, too.) My only qualm is that they weren't that moist in the center, but a) I'm not sure they should be dribbling juices out, looking at all Google's image results, and b) I suspect I could've trapped more moisture in by not venting the pockets as much as I did (three decorative cuts! so fancy!). I have so much filling leftover that I may try to fiddle around with rectifying this situation. Alternatively: gravy.


In other exciting news, last week I spent Thursday night tracking my cat around the apartment with a rag in hand, trying to wipe the crap off his ass where it'd gotten stuck in his long pantaloon fur. The dude is peculiar in his tolerance for bothersome intrusions into his personal space; he'll scoot away the minimum distance - sometimes only moving the body part under attack - to escape my reach, but he seems to forget an instant later (or never realize in the first place) that I am the perpetrator of these acts, and will still come when chirped and gestured at. Even after Becca and I attempted to capture him in a towel to trim off the worst of the crap-matted furs and he spasmed out of our grasp, he merely trundled a few feet away on my bed to observe us, apparently prepared to let bygones be bygones if we'd put away that towel. We were going to put away the towel, right? Ah, scritches.