Dainty Kitty

The Artist Formerly Known As & More Baby Stuff

I think part of my love for Ravelry comes from the fact that it makes me want to work on and finish new projects.  The Jayne hat reminded me that I really do like to knit (I pretty much quit once I learned to crochet last October) so I just started a Mr. Dangly clone.  Actually, he's Mr. Dangly's second cousin, Mr. Flaunty which I thought was rather fitting since I'm making him with lime green yarn leftover from Prince Damacy. 

Speaking of the Prince - I finally took photos of him yesterday.  I see him every time I go to Jake's house because he lives on the mantle of the fireplace but I never think to take him outside for a little photo shoot.  But the weather was perfect yesterday and we needed to water anyway. 

I also took a photo of Jake's behind in his cut offs 'cause I think it's cute but I won't post that here.  And I probably shouldn't refer to his ass in cut offs as "cute" but...you'll have that. 

Those are sweet potato plants in the background.  We planted three colors along the side of the steps and they're the only thing that's really thriving this summer.  Whether everything else is looking rather sorry due to the heat or perhaps slugs we're not sure.   The lime green sweet potato plants are my favorite - such a beautiful color (hence using them twice on Color Week - Green).

It seems that the Kid Discussion is going to come up at least once a week now.   This time we talked about it when we got home from my dad's company picnic and a mellow, short after party at my parents' friends' house...so I was a little buzzed and I cried and stuff.  It really didn't help that, when we got to the picnic, my parents were sitting with a couple who had a two year old daughter who took to me like...well, like most little kids do.  I took her to get a fake tattoo and when I brought a matching one back to the table for myself she just sat there in my lap, leaning back against me while I put it on my arm.  Egads, I love that.  Oddly enough, Jake was great with her.  We took her to the the bouncy room and he took care of her shoes...it was really cute.  He had a little trouble figuring out how to get them back on her feet ("Does that feel right?" he asked...a two year old) and how cute is that? But, you know, we could give her back when she started crying (which she did - why kids like bouncing in a room that's about one hundred degrees, I'll never know but she wanted to go back in).

Anyway, the conversation was going nowhere (which was to be expected) but I had pretty much decided I was going to go home on Sunday and that was going to be it (although a very silly voice in my head told me, "You have several of his books and a handful of his cds").  We fell asleep at some point, mid-end-of-the-conversation.  At about five I got up and slept on the couch for several reasons: my head was killing me (damned draft beer), his futon is about the most uncomfortable thing I've ever slept on...and I kept waking up, my mind dripping with, "What to do?"  He came down to get me at some point, afraid I'd left.  When I came upstairs, a few minutes later, I noticed that he'd fallen asleep with his cell beside him on the bed - he was ready to call me if he didn't find me downstairs which was kind of sweet.

What an icky situation.  I wish I could just say I don't want kids.  That holding that little girl and singing "her song" - "Shake Your Booty" - wasn't the greatest thing ever. 

But then we have conversations like the one we had today. He has more vacation time than he thought therefore he might really be able to come to Florida with my family this year.  In October.

I don't know.  All I can say is that I'm sure this won't be the last time I write about this subject.

   

Where is Paul McCartney When You Need Him?

My blogging style has changed a lot over the past five or six years. For those of you who only know me as Dainty Kitty, I used to be Sushi “Here is Every Detail of My Life” Chick. I miss her a little bit but my life isn’t like that anymore and change is good. I haven’t quite found my niche here on Typepad yet, though. I want to be somewhat personal but I also want this to be something that I would feel comfortable having my brother read (because he does). I’m trying to find balance.

So beyond my forays into torture porn I’ve kept it pretty low key. Sure the marriage stuff was kind of personal but not too personal. But now I have something I need to think about, to write about and have decided to hash it out a bit here.

Children are vile, horrible creatures.

Okay, not really. I wish I believed this, though; life would be so much easier right now if I did.

Fact One: I’ve felt a strong urge to have children since I was seventeen. My dream was to fall in love with a man who made good money, spend a couple years of wedded bliss and then start having kids - as many as we could afford. When someone asked what I would do if I could have any job in the world I’d say I wanted to be a stay at home mom.

Fact Two: My boyfriend does not want to have children. And, I will point out for his sake, he was up front about it from the very beginning.

Now you’d think that maybe this wouldn’t be such a big deal considering that we’ve only been together for four months…not true. We’ve already mentioned it a couple of times and it’s usually glossed over faster than my throat can close up and tears can burn in my eyes. Yesterday, though, after he said something that I took offense to, something that really wasn’t all that offensive, I showered angry and confused and hurt and I realized, very simply, that I’m looking for an out. Every little thing that shouldn’t bother me at all is bothering me on a grand scale. Give me a reason to get the fuck out of this great relationship now because it’s just going to have to end eventually anyway. I’ve been sabotaging myself for weeks (my weeks of hormonal outrage, though, had nothing to do with this) – not realizing that it was just a manifestation of the thing that’s bothering me more and more. The thing that’s moved up in my mind.

I mean, unless we discover some miraculous solution – like Paul McCartney showing up on my doorstep with a marriage proposal - it’s really doomed. We’re like the nativity scene meets Romeo and Juliet or something…doomed, doomed I say. I mean, I’m thirty-two years old – I have no time to waste in a relationship just because we really like each other. Not when we disagree on such an important topic. Sure, women are having kids much later in life now and you can do anything you want if you really put your heart into it but I also have to be realistic. My clock is ticking a bit slower – or would it be faster? - than it was five or six years ago.

So why keep seeing one another? And why continue to ignore this gigantic, smelly elephant in the room? I confessed what I had come to discover and he said that he’d been thinking about it a lot, too. We talked about it a little bit as we got ready to go to the Cityfolk Festival for food, music and fireworks but, honestly, what’s there to talk about? I want This and he wants That. This and That in big, bold capital letters, really.

Sure, it’d be easy if one of us could bend but that would only eventually lead to resentment. The only conclusion we can come to right now is to break up. In an email today he said, “On the one hand, I feel like our dealing with this right now and breaking up would be the wisest, most adult act of my entire life. On the other hand, I feel like it would be one of the most foolish.” I have nothing to say to that. I mean, it’s true but that doesn’t make it any easier or something I want to do. It made me feel sick and I would have cried had I not been sitting at my desk at work (mind you, I had to fight off tears).

I can’t imagine tomorrow without him. No emails, no phone calls at five o’clock, no cuddles on the couch, no click, no spark (Click & Spark was the headline of my ad that he responded to on craigslist). No Jake. No nothing. Starting over. And the starting over isn’t what gets me down – it’s not, “Man, I’m back out there again” – it’s that things are so great that I don’t want to be out there again because I’m immensely happy with what I have, thank you.

And I have no idea what to do. He says there has to be a solution. But what the hell can that be? I’ll decide not to have kids? Not gonna happen. He’ll decide that having at least one is okay? That’s not going to happen and even if it did, it’s no solution. Break up? Yeah, that’s no solution, either.

It’s frustrating. No, wait, not frustrating because that just doesn’t convey how I feel. I almost have to make up a new word for how I feel because it’s really bad.

The only good thing about this predicament is that we can both understand how the other feels. See? That’s how good we are together.

Something Comforting About Saturday

There's something kind of comforting about sitting on your boyfriend's bed in your underwear (my clothes are in the dryer - trying to get the wrinkles out) and blogging on a Saturday night as he readies for your date.  We seemed to have skipped the preliminary dating period of our relationship.  I guess we went directly to lounging and watching movies, cooking and eating takeout, I think.  So we're making up for lost time and have actually went out on real "dates' for the past couple of weekends. 

Tonight we're using the gift certificates I got for Christmas and enjoying a gorge yourself type of meal at Mamma DiSalvo's Ristorante and then going to see Ratatouille (I'm about as excited as an eight year old kid about that, let me tell you). 

The rep who gave me the gift certificates still has a weekly date night - or at least he did before he had his third child about a year ago - and I hope to be the same way some day.  Dates are important. 

And now I'm off to brush my teeth as Jake is out of the shower and has retrieved the laundry - isn't that sweet?

Marriage

Jake and I have been talking about marriage.

No, no, not like that.  We've just been talking about it - emailing really - as merely a topic of discussion.

I'm not typical.  I think there might have been a time when I had little girl dreams of big weddings and white dresses but I can't remember for sure.  I do have a purple folder where I, years ago, saved an unusual invitation and a small handful of creative snippets from magazines about place cards, cakes flowers and dresses (this was shortly after this wedding, I think, while I was still living with Nate and thinking a wedding was probably in my near future).  My favorite piece features two flower girls in deep purple and bright pink tulle skirts, each wearing a silver paper tiara - like a princess ballerina. 

Anyway.  Jake doesn't really believe in marriage.  In fact, his first was common law (which was acknowledged in the state he moved here from - we haven't had it in Ohio for at least fifteen years or more).  Today he wrote, "Getting married doesn't mean much to me.  Being married, on the other hand is huge." I responded with, "To me, getting married is part of being married.  They just go hand in hand."

But why?  It's got me thinking - what really is so important about exchanging vows  and a piece of paper?  It makes me doubt myself because it does seem a bit silly but...it's what I want.  And, as I said, I'm not looking for a big wedding.  Instead I want something small, outdoors - maybe even in my parents backyard.  I want to be married by a friend (something interesting: I recently found out that my dad was ordained for a friend's wedding years ago - long, long before they ever did it on Friends) and walk down the "aisle" to something completely unexpected. I don't want a white dress with beads and a train - I want a simple summer dress and bare feet.  I'd elope if I didn't know that my parents - who did elope and were married by the justice of the peace - would like me to have a wedding of some sorts.  So it's not the wedding.  It's not the glamor and the day that's all about me. 

Standing up in front of my friends and family and making a commitment to someone means something.  I want to be Mrs. So and So.  I don't think I'm all that traditional but that's one tradition I can't do without.

Honestly, maybe the fact that common law marriage isn't recognized in the state of Ohio is one reason why I'm having trouble with the idea of not actually getting married.  When you live in Ohio you have to get married to be married and it's been that way all of my adult life.   

This isn't an argument or a hot topic by any means nor do I feel like I have to defend what I believe (especially since it's pretty much the norm) - like, I said, it just has me thinking.  I'd love to hear other opinions.*  What do you think?  Are you traditional?  Do you feel the need to Get Married and why or why not?

And now I should really wash off the face mask I've been wearing for the past two hours and get myself into bed....

*Elizabeth: I know we talked about this recently and I tried to find that string of emails because you said something I liked and wanted to quote but, unfortunately, no amount of gmail googling could bring it back up.

I Can't Stand Up For Falling Down*

I've been nearly impossible to be around recently.  My hormones are taking over.  I mean Taking Over.  I'm not me at all for full moments...sometimes several in a row.  I'm slowly learning that, during one of these moments, it's not so smart to pick up a phone to call someone or answer when someone calls.  It's no even smart to think too hard or open my mouth because there's just no telling what will come out.  Seriously.  I'm not surprised that Jake hasn't thrown up his hands, waved the white flag or whatever because he's not that type (and what kind of relationship would that be anyway) but I wouldn't have blamed him if he had.   

I know I'm going through some sort of transition - trying to decide who I am for the first time in a long time - but what a bad time to decide that such transition needed to take place.  I can't tell which thoughts are really my own and which are purely hormonal.  But at the same time I'm excited about exploring myself a bit more.  I'm quite like a parasite, really, and tend to take on the form of my host.  I bend myself to those around me - particularly significant others - too easily.  Look back through my music collection there are more artists there that were liked by me merely because someone else liked them first. Sure, people can turn you on to things - books, music, movies - but that's not what I'm talking about.  I'm talking about not having likes of my own for periods of time.  It's strange really.  The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel and Elvis Costello - they belong to me and only me (well, and every one else but you know what I mean - in my group, I liked them first).

It isn't just music, of course - that's just the easiest example.

I've inadvertently stopped taking one of my meds recently.  I take Wellbutrin in the morning with my other pills but I constantly forget to take my Celexa at night.  I tried setting my cell phone alarm but it went off once and never again (I named the alarm "Crazy Pill") but I should make another effort to get that to work and start taking it again - anything to talk down these hormones, I tell you. I started out taking just Celexa but it made me unbearably tired so my doctor put me on Wellbutrin as well.  I thought it was doing a fairly good job by itself but I've obviously been prescribed the other for a reason (although I'm not really sure why) so, you know, taking it might be a good idea.

Anyway, I'm off to Charleston, South Carolina on Thursday with my parents to visit my brother for his thirtieth birthday.  It'll also be the last time we travel there for awhile as he's going to move to Virginia Beach here in a couple of months.  I love Charleston (Pat Conroy was mine first, too) and am looking forward to getting away for a few days.  Between my hormones and my fairly shitty financial situation my stress level is awfully high.  For me at least.   But I'm going to journal and lay on the beach and crochet and read and get really, really tan.  And that's it.   

I took tomorrow off as well and have a silly long list of things to finish before I see Jake comes over.  For one, I'm finally getting my car back.  I don't think I ever mentioned that I was rear ended a few weeks ago.  Yeah, I was.  My car's been in the shop for a week now.  I've got pictures to post, a couple to develop and buttons to talk about.  I've got to make corn hole bags for my brother.  Laundry.  Cleaning.  Cutting my hair and doing up the eyebrows and other such girly things.  Packing (light, I said, but I've already added several shirts to the modest stack of t-shirts that should have gotten me through a four day trip).  I want to finish the cute little toast handbag that I started the other night.  I've got half of one slice - the butter free side - left to finish.  I want to gather a couple of other projects to take in the car.   And I want to be finished by seven - ready to walk out the door - so that I can relax on the couch with Jake, eating pizza maybe and watching Carnivale.   It's going to be really weird and kind of icky to go five days without seeing him.

Oh, last night was so nice.  I have really young, new neighbors and they were outside.  Normally I would have found this insanely annoying but one of them had a guitar and there was more playing and singing than laughing, talking and generally being loud on a Monday night at midnight.  I hated to finally go to bed.   I especially liked the slow, acoustic version of "Hey Ya" - I'd seriously like to have a recording of that.  So while I'm not a fan of groups of loud people standing under my window, smoking and talking, late on a school night...I wouldn't mind it as much if there was more guitar.

And now it's nearly Wednesday.  Time to go to bed, I guess. 

*Elvis Costello (of course) from Get Happy (1980). 

Damn That Aunt Flo

I have run the gamut of premenstrual emotions this month.  Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched a little girl hula to "Little Brown Gal" at the World A'Fair Saturday night, I was cranky, I was a bit crazy (thanks, Elizabeth), I was bitchy and not myself...I'm glad I'm not like this every month.  Seriously. 

But it's all over now.  I ended my carnival of emotions last night with nearly an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food ice cream.  I left about three bites just so that I could tell myself, "Well, I didn't eat the whole thing."

Just most of it.

A'Fairs, Nights and Strange Encounters

Lucy, my tortoiseshell cat - the one who isn't in the banner and doesn't get as much attention as Mina - is in the living room, playing with a plastic bag and doing that strange thing where she talks to herself: loud, plaintive mews.  I used to think it meant she was trapped somewhere or upset but I think she just decides to be chatty ever once in awhile.  That or she thinks it's cool because I do it all the time.  Talk to myself, not meow.  Although I do wear the cat ears you see on the left when I clean.

Tonight we're going to the World A'Fair - something my parents do every year and something I also adopted several years ago.  Representatives from several countries set up booths selling food and other goodies.  I remember my parents bringing home desserts and some sort of flute like thing one year.  On my list of things to eat: a falafel, cannoli, German potato salad and these apple fritter things that Holland, I think, sells.   Then we're heading to the Oregon District for Urban Nights.   Should be a good night.

I wish I'd taken before photos of Jake's front yard before we cleaned it all out and planted flowers, hostas and bushes.  We're going to mulch today and that'll finish it off other than some sort of stone border. He has a lot of ideas for inside and outside - next time I'm going to remember to take more pictures.  I used to hate working in the yard but this has been a very rewarding experience.  I guess when I'm not doing yard work because my parents want me to, I actually enjoy getting my hands dirty and sweating.  Who'd have thought?

On a last note, W. texted me at ten o'clock last night.  How odd is that?  A simple, "Watcha doin?" to  which I replied,  "Not a whole heck of a lot - I was wondering where you'd gotten to."  She replied that she'd been working and did I want to come to a bar downtown.  I said that I would if I weren't already in my jammies and catnapping (she'd woken me up, actually - I was asleep at ten on a Friday night if you can believe that).  And that was that.  Part of me thought I should go just because she asked but I was realistic and didn't drag myself out.  I really don't know what to think of that exchange.  Maybe I'll try to call her next week....

And in closing, since she never gets any blog attention...Lucy with Thread.

The Cute, The Sad and The Mushy

First this - How utterly cool is it that Jake has Prince Damacy up on his mantle (I finished him ages ago but still need to take pictures)?  And how utterly cool is it that he just added the Happy Poo that I had crocheted for his Easter basket?  Uh, yeah, the Easter basket that I just gave him last week (note the date).  I made him one because I was making one for my parents and making Easter baskets makes me happy...but when it came down to it it just seemed too soon.  So I waited and waited...and when he couldn't find any chocolate in my cabinets one night last week I finally gave it to him.  It was really cute - I put everything, including the Happy Poo, in a pot (get it?) and used white shred.  I contemplated actually cutting toilet paper into shred but it just seemed like too much work.  So he got a Poo themed Easter basket.  Late.

Then this - I'm going through one of those stages where I just don't get women.  If you know me at all you love me...no wait, that wasn't what I was going to say...if you know me at all you know that I don't have very many female friends.  In fact, right now I have none.  I don't have a BFF to call up and say, "Jake made me cinnamon toast last night!" (if I actually explained what that meant you'd know that it's the kind of Cute that a woman likes to share) or "He met my parents yesterday!"  This usually only bothers me when I've just broken up with a girlfriend but I had something kind of sad happen recently that bothers me enough to post it.

I've lost another friend.  And this time I don't know why exactly. 

W. and I met at a Christmas party last year and, due to our single status, our love for all things Buffy and my dazzling extrovert personality, we quickly became friends.   We went out with the group quite a bit but also did things together.  It's been so long since I've met a girlfriend for dinner, shopping, happy hour or a movie that I was nearly swooning.  I had a friend!  And she was so like me!  I borrowed the entire Angel series from her and watched it in a month.  We talked about books.  I've never had a friend that had read Jane Eyre and wanted to talk about it!  What a thrill!

She met a guy an New Year's Eve and they really hit it off.  Great!  I'm not the jealous type at all.  He was leaving for Germany in a matter of months and didn't treat her the way she deserved to be treated but I was there to listen - only cursing him out a few times.  I think we talked a couple times after he left.  I had met Jake and things were going well.  The last time I saw her we were supposed to meet at a shi-shi bar downtown but she was late and arrived just as Jake and I were leaving to get dinner.  A few weeks later she invited me to see Rent (she gets free tickets through work and called me that day of) and I copped out at sort of the last minute due to an overwhelming wave of depression that came out of no where.  She chastised me and told me to throw on some clothes and get my ass downtown.  I left her a message after the play started explaining why I couldn't leave the house and that I hoped she wasn't mad, "Because I really like you."  I wasn't too worried - she'd called me that day of and had also said that I could drop out of something else came up (i.e. Jake) - but I really didn't want her to be angry with me.

She wasn't and I think we spoke on the phone once more after that.  She forwarded me a couple of job openings where she works which were appealing but not what I was really looking for.  I probably should have come right out and told her but I didn't and I now wonder if that had anything to do with it.   We texted a few times after that and I asked her to meet me for happy hour a couple times but was turned down each time.  The last time I communicated with her I sent her a text, "What are you doing after work?" to which I received a very simple, "Sleeping." 

And that was it. 

It's just sad.  I'm not a bad person.  I think I'm nice.  I think I'm giving and caring and fun - all things that make up a good friend.  But I can't hang on to one.   I just don't get it.

And I'm not writing about this looking for ego strokes or anything...I'm actually very happy right now and I know I'm a good person with a lot to offer a friend or a partner.  I also know there are a wonderful handful of people out there that I consider good friends that I've never even met and that really means the world to me.  There's just that void, you know?   That vaguely nagging void.  I miss that person to shop with on a Saturday night and gush about how great my boyfriend is while we sip coffee or have ice cream.  It's just something I'd like to have that never seems to work out for me. 

But I won't stop trying.  And I'll just enjoy what I have because all of it is really great. 

Catching Up

When it comes to most things I almost always seem to be a step behind.  At least a step...maybe a few sometimes and other times I'm so far back you barely see me waving frantically.

Anyway, I just took advantage of Google Reader and added most of my favorite sites and now I'm wondering how I lived without it.  I've attempted to use some of the other blog tracking sites out there but they never worked right for me - I never felt comfortable with them - so I just added blogs to my favorites and clicked away.  But I did a lot of useless clicking on non-updated blogs so I'm happy to now have found a tracker that I actually like and is fairly easy to use.

Like I said - I'm behind. 

That reminds me of the magnet I have that used to hang on my parents' fridge - it's the back end of a Beetle and says, "I MAY BE SLOW BUT I'M WAY AHEAD OF YOU." 

There you go.  A little Useless Emily Trivia. 

Rested-ish

I took half of Thursday and all of Friday off because I was having a terrible time getting through Wednesday without bursting into tears.  The time off was really needed even though I didn't do all that much.  Well I did lots of things but nothing solid.  I always feel I should accomplish something when I take time off to merely stay around town.  Like, "Well, I finally got that closet organized now to tackle the box of Things That Need to be Filed!"

Instead I shopped a bit on Friday and found a really great clearance sale at Gadzooks, one of my favorite clothing stores, spent a lazy Saturday afternoon picnicking and lounging in the sun with Jake and Sunday on the patio of the Pub drinking Bass and reading Rolling Stone, getting just buzzed enough to really need a cup of coffee, again, with Jake.  I just relaxed.  I think I might have straightened up the living room on Saturday morning and maybe washed a sink full of dishes but that's about it. 

I wasn't really happy to come back to work on Monday but I do feel much better.  I've also decided that taking both of the antidepressants my doctor prescribed is probably a pretty good idea.  I always forget to take the one that I'm supposed to take at night but have managed to remember three nights in a row.  I'd like to think that having a good weekend and a happy life outside of the office has more to do with my lifted mood than the medication but if it also takes medication then so be it. 

Sewing helped a bit, too, I think.  The apron's not much but it gave me a chance to shut down my brain for an evening and focus instead on cutting bright colored fabric, sewing crooked lines and dancing to the B-52's which made me happy.