Three cats and a little vet (visit).

This past weekend we did something that we haven't done in three years - we took all three cats to the vet at once. Why don't we do this each year, you wonder? Well, it's because Sasha is an absolute terror at the vet and we don't want to deal with it. So we either take her by herself or we just don't bring her at all. This year, to minimize the time we have to spend at the vet, we took all three together. Here are the cats waiting in the lobby of the vet's office. Notice that Sasha is off to the left, all by herself, and that's so she won't disturb the others with her deep, guttural moans of displeasure. Sasha did have to get the gas (When I called to make the appointment I warned them that Sasha was bad, very, very bad, and I was told that in extreme cases the vet can gas the animal to put them temporarily to sleep so that the vet can do the exam, and then the cat will wake right up after the exam. Doug and the vet wanted to try the exam without the gas, and that worked for, oh, I don't know, five minutes, before Sasha started to do her Linda Blair/Exorcist impersonation and had to get the gas.), but they all survived just fine. And when we got home from the vet we had only a short time to readjust to our normal surroundings (Sasha, really) before my mother and brother arrived.

My mom and brother came so that 1) we could see Avatar (I was the only one who had never seen it - Doug saw it once and so did my mother, but my brother had already seen it twice), and 2) so that my mother and I could start on my next sewing project, which will be the subject of another blog post someday. And we did see Avatar, which was a two-thumbs-up movie to watch because of how great the 3-D was but maybe only one-thumb-up for story line, but we also got out into the fresh air. The weather was beautiful all weekend - somewhat warm, and bright and sunny. Everyone enjoyed our walk around Walden Pond - we're smiling! And then after our walk we stopped for lunch in Waltham, where I experimented with continuous mode on my camera. Continuous mode without the flash makes for pretty cool shots.

But, perhaps for the coolest thing all weekend - Wyatt in his new sweater. His Snuggie just doesn't fit him right; he can't walk in it because the leg sleeves are too constricting. It's also just too small for him; he's bigger than we thought. So my mother, who saw the photos of Wyatt with his haircut on this blog, printed out his post-hair cut photos, showed them to my Aunt Alice (the very one who made this stunning display), and requested a homemade sweater for him. So Aunt Alice, ever the expert with the knitting needles, whipped him up that fantastic sweater in about two and a half days. I am absolutely amazed at her abilities, at her creativity, and at her kindness. Because look at him! Does he get any cuter - or warmer - than in that sweater? It's way better than a Snuggie. Doug thinks so, too. He can't keep his hands off the alien baby, who now wears clothes. We always knew Wyatt was cute, but man, in his sweater he's just about irresistible. Thank you, thank you, Aunt Alice! Maybe someday I can knit you a scarf in return. If I start now I should be done for your 70th birthday.

The view from inside.

Oy. So, last night I fell asleep watching Thursday night's prime-time Olympics coverage. It was 9:51pm and we were watching the women's supercombined, and Doug said, "Nine minutes!" My response was an immediate and resounding, "No way! I'm wide awake! I won't fall asleep at 10!" Ten o'clock seems to be my new bewitching hour (used to be 10:30); it's when my eyes get heavy and within seconds I'm drooling onto one of the throw pillows. And at 9:51 I was wide awake. Drinking iced tea, petting a cat. But wouldn't you know it - at 9:58pm I felt my eyes drooping and was fast asleep within seconds. All I really needed was a nap, though, because at 12:30am I woke up to Wyatt humping my arm and the sounds of Doug's guitar coming up from the basement, and then I was wide awake again. So I continued with the Olympics where I left off and didn't go to bed until 5am. This happens to me every once in a while. I accept it.

What's different about this particular second wind is that Doug and I had a very heartfelt and meaningful conversation starting around 2:30am, after we watched Yevgeny Plushenko finish his silver medal free program at nbcolympics.com (our pre-set DVR recording stopped just before his performance - the anger!). Doug was absolutely exhausted and wanted to go to bed, since he didn't get the luxury of a nap, but was good enough to talk with me about the post I did that night on the Olympics. I won't get into the specifics of the conversation, but I'll just say that it was one of the better ones we've had about these same old topics, because I was not bringing any kind of heated emotions into it, or any kind of prejudgments. It was nice, and I thank him, because he confirmed what I've been thinking for a while, which is that I've got to stop dwelling on these thoughts. Enough already. And if I'm not going to stop dwelling on these bigger ideas of meaning, purpose, inspiration, possibilities, then I have to at least stop blogging about them. Because it's getting old and no one needs to hear about it anymore.

So I'd like to just say that I know I have written many a post questioning my direction in life, the meaning of my life, wondering if I'm already, at the ripe old age of (just about) thirty-one, washed up and ready for the old folks home. I have revealed my feelings of inferiority and insecurity, and exposed my personal journey towards inner peace, which often seems like a giant avalanche of confused and meta thinking rushing furiously down the mountain of my mind. I tend to turn to the blog as if I would a journal, or as if I would a friend or a therapist, when I get stuck in my thoughts, and what ends up coming out are posts that make me sound whiney and ungrateful, a true white whiner. And often times I think that's what I am. But often I'm just someone who is trying to get things right for herself, and is doing so in a public way, and I think that it's better if I do this less publicly, and less thoughtfully. Meaning more action and less thinking, and less writing about that thinking.

This doesn't mean that I'll stop blogging, and it doesn't mean that I'll completely stop these posts without pictures, but I do hope to put as much of an end as possible to these posts that delve into the darker, deeper areas of my mind, the areas that don't really need a spotlight on them for all the world to see. Because there's so much more to my thinking and my life than those parts of me. Sure, I get inspired by the Olympics - who doesn't? But my posts on the Olympics don't have to turn into a diatribes on how I'm not living a goal-oriented life, how I would in my next life but in this life it's too late, I'm not good enough for that, or I'm too screwed up to do so. Because it's not too late and I'm not too screwed up. Really. I hate the labels that I feel attached to me - the complainer, the one with the problems, the person you should treat with kid gloves because she's going through some crazy amount of personal growth and inner angst. I'm tired of getting myself caught in a negative thinking pattern and exposing that thinking pattern to the world, which only serves to confirm those labels that I hate. Where is my self respect? Where is my self discipline? In a way, where is my Olympic spirit? It's here, it's in me, it's just not getting the spotlight. And that should change. In my effort to get my life right enough, I'm focusing on all the wrong stuff and I'm causing you, the reader of this showcase, to focus on all the wrong stuff, too. My apologies to you, but my thanks to Doug, who should probably kick me in the butt a little more often. He's good at it.

I have to write more about the Olympics.

I know I wrote a little about the Olympics before, but I have to write about them again. They are taking over my life, and in a good way. Each night I come home from work and eagerly anticipate watching what we DVR'd that day. I am so enthralled by the music, the colors, the people... it's great television. Great stories. Great inspiration. The problem is that I can't seem to watch more than an hour or so before falling asleep. This is putting me way behind schedule. For example, last night I tried to finish watching Wednesday night's prime-time coverage (Wednesday night I got through the men's snowboarding qualifying round and a wee bit of speed skating, but then promptly fell asleep). Last night I got through a little more of Wednesday night's speed skating and some of the women's alpine event, but then fell asleep again before I could finish with the men's snowboarding event. Which means tonight I'm on tap to finally finish Wednesday's events, get through Thursday's, and then maybe start on today's events. Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm aiming to finish Wednesday's events and start what we recorded on Thursday. I have to be realistic.

Being realistic is not really in the Olympic spirit, though. I mean, take a look at Shaun White. (This photo is from Shaun White's website, so not taken by me and probably not legal to re-post, but I'm taking a risk out of my great enthusiasm for the games.) Shaun White, at 23, snowboards for a living. He has a compound in Colorado where he and his trainers and team (his own team of people!) spend their time inventing and practicing new and exciting moves. When he displays these new moves, everyone wants to be like him and they try the moves out for themselves. And when Shaun has already clinched the gold medal, again, for the second time in the halfpipe, he still goes out and displays his new and crazy good moves even though he doesn't have to. Because why not? If you're going to get out there and do it, you might as well go all the way. That's the Olympic spirit. If Shaun White were "being realistic," do you think he'd have a compound where he could invent new snowboarding phenomenon? And do you think he'd still bring it to the competition even when there really is no more competition?

This is why I love the Olympics. The games remind me that I limit myself each and every day. Olympians do not limit themselves. They have a goal and they go for it, as Doug said last night, balls to the wall. So how come the rest of us don't go for it balls to the wall? Some people do, but not in sports. Some people pursue their job with great passion, some people pursue their outside interests/hobbies with great passion, but few really commit to one thing the way Olympians do. Is there a gene for that kind of commitment? Is there a way to develop that kind of determined, goal-oriented living even when you're past your Olympic prime? The answer is yes, or course, because the Olympians are doing nothing special. Just going after what they want, what they believe, and what they love, and that's certainly something everyone can do each and every day. Thank you, again, Olympics, because every couple of years you help me get back on track, and I cannot wait to see you up close and personal in Rio in 2016 (slight revision in location, but same determined desire to get there).

Four blissful days...

Doug and I just had ourselves a wonderful, fantastic, totally peaceful and relaxing four day extended weekend. It was just about the best way to spend four days. There was nothing that we had to do. Not one thing. Not one chore needed to get done, not one errand had to be run, not one state line had to be crossed, not one obligation. It was complete and total relaxation, and just about one of the most enjoyable mini-vacations I've had in the past four years.

It started with getting Wyatt groomed. You've seen his haircut already, but I can't help but post more photos of the little alien baby. Doug did a lot of cuddling with the hairless one,and we both did a lot of "observing" him, meaning just staring at him in his Snuggie and giggling about how silly he looked. And then taking pictures of him.

Of course, we also spent a lot of time eating. As it was Valentine's Day this weekend, I thought I'd give Doug a nice homemade meal. I made a meal of vegetable pie and roasted potatoes, and Doug surprised me with flowers and a cake. Flowers! A cake! Excellent.

In between going to the gym, eating, watching the Olympics, petting the cats, and sleeping, we took a road trip to Northampton, bought some more books, relaxed with some hot chocolate, and ate Indian food. Indian food! Almost as excellent as flowers and cake, because we never get Indian food. Doug was particularly excited about Indian food; can't you tell? I can tell. His eyes have that "I just ate way too much naan and now you're going to make me eat all of your aloo gobi, aren't you" look. I know that look well.

Ah, relaxation. Food comas. How nice. We finished the extended weekend at Isabella, Dedham's mighty fine offering to the local dining scene, to celebrate our anniversary. Yes, that's right. Yesterday Doug and I celebrated year two of married life. And it was a great way to celebrate. Four days of inspiring television, a road trip, the gym, the cats, eating great good, and flopping on the couch together... I mean, it was really, really great. Nothing over the top, nothing extravagant, just this: Cards with heartfelt messages, another cake (cake!), two forks, and a night on the couch surrounded by cats and snowboardcross on TV. Really, it was great. Have I said that yet? I couldn't have celebrated Valentine's Day and our anniversary in a better way, and I have my wonderful husband to thank for allowing us to have such a great four days doing nothing but whatever we felt like doing at the time. Can't wait to do this again next year! We are definitely making this an annual event.

In my next life I will be an Olympian.

I love the Olympics. Love them. I love that they are now every two years, which means that there's less time to wait for the next set of games. I love seeing what each location does for the opening ceremony, I love learning about the athletes and their stories of strife and determination, I love seeing how the favored athletes aren't always the ones who bring home gold. But what I love most is that for these two weeks I feel inspired. I feel excited about life, about what can be accomplished, about the future. These athletes love and live their sport, and they don't make excuses for themselves. They train and train and work towards their goal of gold. If they don't get gold they'll try again. If they do get gold they'll still try again. They just want to be their best at what they love to do. I find that to be incredibly moving, and for these two weeks every two years I am moved by the Olympic spirit.

This year the Olympics are in Vancouver.When the Olympics were in Torino back in 2006, I told myself I'd go to the winter games in Vancouver. When the Olympics were in Athens in 2004, I told myself that I'd go to the summer games in Beijing. I have yet to make good on any of these promises - what kind of determined Olympic spirit is that? So I am determined to go to the 2014 games in Sochi. I'll skip London in 2012 and save my money to get to the winter games in Russia. How great would that be? I would love that. Really. And it would only take, what, $5K a piece? More? Whatever. It's only money and I've got four years to save for me and Doug to get there. I've got to go. Really. Because it's too late for me to be an actual Olympian, but it's not too late for me to live with that determined, goal-oriented spirit.

Apolo Anton Ohno won another medal this year. Silver. Won it last night, which makes him tied for the most decorated U.S. Winter Olympics medal-winner outside of Bonnie Blair. Apolo had this to say in his montage before the race: "Before every day you go to sleep, ask yourself one question - did you do every single thing you could today to make sure that you did your best? It's hard to answer yes every single day. I don't like to look at it in terms of outworking the competition, I like to think of it as me conquering myself, me being able to face my own fears, and distractions, and weaknesses..." This is how I want to live my life. Asking myself that question each day, and answering honestly each night. If I can live like that each day I will be in Sochi in 2014. I will put Ohno's quote in my wallet and have it with me each day as a reminder of how greatness is achieved, and of how I want to live my life.

Time to watch the luge.

Revisiting the Lion Cut. Roar.

It was time. Wyatt's hair had been matted for some time, and finally I could stand it no more. Each night I would try to run my fingers through his hair and would be greeted with another knotted mass, so I decided to make the call to Brookline Dog Grooming and make him an appointment. Why not Twinkenton, where he got his last cut? Because at Brookline we can stay with him. We go back into the grooming area and we stand with him as they groom him. As they comb him to death and then shave him down. We can't stay at Twinkenton, and we have to leave him all day. How do we know what's happening to him there while we're gone? Plus, they gave him a bath at Twinkenton, and it was directly after that experience that he started to hump. He hasn't stopped, one year later. I don't think we'll be going back to Twinkenton, but we've already made another appointment for Wyatt at Brookline for July.

So this is Wyatt's before photo. Poor guy thinks he's getting his morning wet-food treat. Little does he know that he's about to be crated and driven to Brookline to have all his hair cut off. That's his hair, but not all of it. Most of his hair got sucked up the vacuum that's attached to the shaver, but this was the pile that didn't make it into the vacuum. Can you believe that hair? It's actually beautiful, silky hair. The groomer said it reminded her of alpaca hair, and she wondered at his breed. She said that we could take that hair with us so that we could use it for something, but what could we use it for? We have enough of his hair here, anyway. Just look at my clothes, the sofa, the rug, anywhere. We don't need any more of his hair.

But Wyatt does. Wyatt would have loved to have us bring that hair home and then glue it back on him. Not only is he now half his size, but he's cold. He visibly shakes if he's not curled up into a little ball on a blanket somewhere. To combat that, Doug went out and got him a Snuggie.The Snuggie is for dogs, because we can't find anything like this for cats, and even though Wyatt does not protest wearing it (really - he did not try to get it off, so don't be fooled by his "woe is me" expression - that's just from his haircut. For Wyatt, having the lion cut is like being naked.), he can't walk in it. He has to take very deliberate steps, and it's embarrassing to watch. So he's not wearing his Snuggie full-time, but when we all settle into the couch for the night, with me under a blanket and Doug under one, too, we will put Wyatt's Snuggie on him and we'll all be toasty warm.

Baby P's first party

Yesterday the women in my family gathered in CT to celebrate the impending arrival of Baby P, my cousin Amy's baby. Only about six weeks left before the baby arrives - a perfect time to throw the baby its first party.

Amy loved the bibs, and was pleased that the fabrics I chose (I'd like to say I was aware of this before I chose the fabrics, but alas, a happy coincidence only) have enough contrast between colors that she can make out what's on them. That makes me very happy indeed.

Amy also loved the blanket that my aunt Alice knitted for the baby, and who wouldn't? Not only is anything homemade a treat, but who can't appreciate the amount of time, effort, and creativity that went into that blanket? Aunt Alice had to design the Pooh bears herself, then knit them into each square of the blanket, then connect all the squares, then embroider on their little faces. This is where I'd like to be with my knitting. Not necessarily thinking up a design and knitting it into something as big as a blanket (because this blanket is so large that it will last all through the child's life in a twin bed), but knitting a blanket and having it come out as cleanly as this one did. Aunt Alice is my inspiration with the knitting needles. My sister mentioned that she wanted to get the family knitting/sewing circle together again, which last met, oh, I don't know, maybe twelve or more years ago?, and my immediate reaction was, "Yes! Let's do it!" Because I want to absorb all that Aunt Alice can teach. Because I need a dedicated time to focus on my projects otherwise the rest of my life gets in the way. But then I remembered that I don't live in CT, and unless the knitting/sewing circle met on a weekend afternoon I wouldn't be able to attend. Hmmm.

So Baby P is all celebrated, complete with his/her first cake. My mom's cousin Jackie was at the shower, my grandmother's sister's daughter who was born unbeknownst to the rest of the family and immediately given up for adoption (one of those out-of-wedlock-babies whose stories seem so tragic), and I heard Jackie remark that she finds it so impressive how the family throws these parties and everyone always attends. It is pretty impressive, especially when you think about how busy today's life can be. And if I don't attend a family function I feel really guilty, because I know that I'll be one of the only ones not there. My mother and her sisters have always been close, and I grew up going to birthday parties, wedding showers, baby showers, christenings, holiday parties, and the like. Without these family matriarchs, will these well-attended family gatherings last? I would love to start hosting some of these parties, like the annual family holiday party, and while I have been humored by being told that my name has been thrown into the hostess hat, I know that my name will not likely be drawn. One of the reasons why these parties have been so well attended throughout the years and generations is because my mother, her two sisters, and their offspring (except for me and my cousin Nate) all live in Connecticut. And are all within a forty-minute drive of each other. Coming to my house, all of two or so hours away, is a big trip. A big deal. And that puts a definite damper on celebrations at my house. Which means, of course, that if Doug and I ever move further away, our hopes of ever hosting one of these family functions will be officially dead. Is that enough of a reason to stay local? Not really, but it does make me begin to wonder about the value of family and tight-knit family circles, and I do hope that my generation is not the one to let traditions die. For an Antiques Roadshow lover like myself, the idea of traditions being passed down generation to generation is inspiring, and comforting, and I certainly don't want to be the one who inherits the family highboy, doesn't recognize it's value, and sells it in a tag sale.

Listmania.

I love making lists. Lists of all sorts. Lists of what I want to be when I grow up, lists of places I want to live when I grow up, lists of degrees I'd like to get if school were free and I had all the time in the world to go, lists of types of dogs to get one day, lists of places to go on vacation, grocery lists, and, of course, my all-time favorite, the to-do list. Making a to-do list helps to keep all the things that run around in my head in one neat and organized place, and my brain is not so neat and organized. Do I do all the things on my to-do lists? Hardly. But if I did everything on my list then I wouldn't have a list anymore, and that would make me sad.

What's on my to-do list right now, for tonight? Here's a sample:

* Eat dinner.

* Watch a movie.

* Find out if tonight's Antiques Roadshow will be rebroadcast so that I can record it.

* Put myself on auto-payment for my student loans, because Sallie Mae insists that both of my email addresses are invalid and refuses to send me a paper bill, so I missed one of my payments.

* Put some new tunes on my iPod.

* Put my Washington D.C. pictures into the picture album I bought.

* Make appointments for the cats at the vet.

* Make an appointment for the giant cotton ball at the groomer.

* Clean the cat puke off the sheets on the bed.

* Put clean sheets on the bed.

* Get into the freshly made bed and go to sleep.

Think I'm going to get all those things done? No way! My to-do list never ends. I just keep crossing the few things I do get done off the list and then adding more stuff and changing the date.

I did scratch some things off of my to-do list this weekend, though. I scratched off:

* Finish bibs. Finished bibs, with snaps: And, of course, because what would be a bibs post without a photo of a cat in a bib, Wyatt sported one of the bibs for everyone to see. Couldn't get the other cats in the bibs, though - the others are too smart for that.

* Get new cat food bowls that they can't knock over. The before was pretty old and beat, and the little crunchy bits that Meg leaves everywhere were painful to stocking feet. The after is a bit more stylish, a bit more clean, and a lot harder to knock over. Besides, who wouldn't want to eat out of a Julius Monkey bowl?

* Take more photos of the cats. Not a weekend can go by without this one being added to the to-do list and then scratched off. I'll say it again - Sasha is one photogenic kitty cat.

So, yes, my to-do list. Only three items scratched off, but still, enough to make me feel like something was accomplished. Now to move on to tonight's list. Time to scratch off dinner! Popcorn here I come!