Hideout.

Since Ezio joined the family, Boo has had his patience tested over and over again. I think that's why he escaped for a few days at some point: to get some perspective and mull things over. Boo has acquired a bad ass personality, and he shuts down Ezio with one paw to the head. The funny thing is, Ezio always comes running back for more. Loves it. He doles out most of the abuse, though, and is frequently caught in the act of booting Boo from a quiet spot or generally acting out to piss Boo off. I mean, look. Case in point. He always has the mischievous face, even this morning:

 

We've never seen the two of them be affectionate to one another and I know you can't force these things (I've tried taping them to one another with duct tape and locking them in the bathroom, to no avail), but I still feel bad that Boo gets kicked around like that. I was fascinated when I saw Ezio wash Boo's face yesterday. Boo did not move. He had his teeth bared, but kept still as as statue and let Ezio do the grooming. He eventually turned and - lighting quick - whacked him upside the head, when Ezio bit his ear. I know he has reached wit's end when he goes here (the little one doesn't have an inkling that this place exists):

The top of the kitchen cupboards: perfect hideout.

It worked. That little runt can't find me now. Mwahahahargh. Sucker.

Sometimes, Boo lets his guard down and migrates back down to earth with the rest of us. He still loves his spot on The Man's ugly blanket. 

I swear: one day that blanket will 'accidentally' burn or be used for the rag it is. As long as it makes him happy, I can't take it away from him. I am not that mean and controlling. So in the meantime, I bleach the hell out of it in the hopes that the fabric eventually disintegrates. It's the only thing I can do about it...it's a slow, tedious process, but mark my words: I will prevail. Oh yes, I will prevail (okay, I don't really hate it that badly...ahem).

Boo & Ezio.

Boo. Now seems huge, more graceful and mature. Great mentor for Ezio.

Ezio. Includes thumbs, folded ears and ruckus at night. Cuteness Factor: Eleven.

Still figuring out territory issues and buddy boundaries.

The Dream Kitchen Counter.

There are times when I think to myself it would be very, very nice to have a different kitchen counter. Like tonight, for instance. If I had a different kitchen counter, I would be there right now, leaning on my elbows on its ceramic top, deciding what to make for dinner, listening to some cool jazz, and looking out into the dining room. Right now, I can't do that, because there are cupboards in the way. White melamine cupboards. If I lean on my elbows, my forehead leans on the overhead cupboards. Not so sexy.

They are fine, really. They are newish. They are clean. They have nice stainless steel handles. They provide storage space. But - and this is what bugs me - they close off the kitchen. Plus, when I stand at my current kitchen counter, using the sink, all anybody sitting at the dining room table will see is, well, my breast area. I try to work around this slight embarrassment by leaning over and pretending I am ordering a chocolate sundae. People sitting in the dining room do not usually get the joke, so I have to explain. I know. Embarrassing. I actually have to look under the cupboards to look towards the table. Enough complaining. At least I have a) a kitchen and b) a dining room table, let alone a dining room. And breasts. I have breasts, too. I'm a lucky gal.

My dream kitchen counter involves a few things (aside from the fact The Man does not know about my dream kitchen counter):

1. A ceramic top. Did I mention that already? The ceramic is, preferably, terracotta. Or something equally cool (I know, it's very 2005, but I like the look);
2. Drop-down halogen lighting with nice coloured glass lampshades, preferably elongated hand-blown glass. Red. Or - yellow. Oh no - blue. For a warm look. Not the white, cold neon lighting I have right now.
   
3. A built-in sink. And one of those nifty pull-out hose things. To spray people with.
   
4. On one end, open shelves that go all the way to the ceiling, to put plants on. And eventually, any other knick-knack The Man decides to leave there. He does that.
   
5. On the dining-room side, along three-quarters of the length, a recess so I can have two stools there. For making conversation while making dinner. You know, entertaining. Like this:

   "Oh yeah, listen. Super simple. I marinated these scallops overnight in lime juice and I'm just going to sautee them slightly with these shallots and a bit of Pernod. Oh - pass the anchovy paste-filled olives, please? Thanks. Sorry, I drooled. Haha. Yum. Want some wine? So anyway, I'm thinking of painting this big ass landscape with a very defined Italian slash Mediterranean feel to it, and just having these huge cedar-like trees in it. Can you hold this for a second? Thanks. What? The painting's already been done? By whom? Oh. Modigliani. Right. Haha. I'll stick to Squibbits, then. Can you give me that thing you were holding? No - not that one. The other one. Thanks. Oh! DOWN! GET OFF THE COUNTER! NO! BOO! OFF THE COUNTER - you little %!*&# - sorry. That cat loves olives, go figure. Wait - Honey? Can you bring up some chairs? What? You're killing zombies? It's okay, babe, hit the start button, they'll wait for you! Haha. That man loves his zombies. So...tell me all about being a plant. Do you like being a plant? Is it a quiet, peaceful life? Do you panic when your soil is dried up? I'm sorry, I know I only water you - what - once a week? Yeah. Is that OK?

All I need now is to keep saving up that non-smoking money to make it happen.

Boo.

See here, Don Estorbo: this is

The Boo Who Owns Me.

(no lies. he completely owns me.)

On Obliques and Squares of Light.

So I stuck with the gym thing. Which is good.
It makes me feel good. I even feel a little...firmer.

Mmmm, fiiirm. Oh - sorry.

I actually found my triceps last week. I didn't even know I had them. They were there, but in a lame, outta-the-way fashion. So there they are. I'm beginning to see the shadows of side-abs. They're technically called obliques, but I call them side abs because they are the abs on the side. So. That's why. Enough about the gym. All you need to know is I love it and plan to continue going. I still don't understand how I've developed this urge, suddenly, to hop on the machines and sweat, but I get that urge now.

It's Monday morning and I am at home because I worked almost all of Saturday to have peace and quiet. I wondered why I didn't get much done at work - I still do - so I am currently trying to find ways to improve my concentration. I think I have a very short attention span. If I'm in the middle of doing something and someones walks over to my desk, I'm fucked.

These days, I am puzzled because I sometimes find myself wishing I was mean. I sometimes wish I could say "shut up and let me work" to people but I can't. Probably because it isn't a very civilized or nice way to deal with other people and my nice personality is stronger than my bitch personality.

I know you're in there, bitch personality! Come on! Come out - it's spring! Come give the finger to annoying assholes! Come invade my brain just long enough for me to walk up to someone and say: "Please keep your stupid, incomprehensible mumbling and off-key, crappy singing to yourself or leave this room." Okay, okay, that's the polite version. I think I am probably already dealing with this the right way and I'm being polite all the time, or so my colleagues tell me. I confuse the little voice in my head and what really happens, sometimes. Maybe I have a split personality problem! Oh, no!

...that would explain the blood on my shirtsleeve, Friday night...just kidding. Haha.

On the Boo front, this little naughty monkey is driving me nuts. I took him outside on Sunday, harness and leash and all, as per the rules. He was completely freaked in the beginning. He would not even stand, he was lying on his side looking at me like I had slapped him. So I checked that I had not done up the straps too tight, scooped him up in my arms and took him outside to the balcony. After two minutes of no movement, I scooped him up again and put him in the stairs leading to the yard. Nothing. Then picked him up and gently lowered him into the grass. Click! Some sort of primal instinct kicked in and he started roaming around, me in tow, nose to the ground, into the bushes and under the stairs. He was pretty scared by the neighbors' kids with their whirring, spinning toys and their screams. So I took him inside and since then, he won't stop meowing in from of the patio door. He is practically pointing at it, going (in his James Mason voice) : "Open this door now, I say! Can't you see I'm supposed to be outside? What are you doing, staring at the square of light? Open it!" And so on, with various levels of insults and debilitating meowing. I swear, the meowing sounds like someone is ripping at his insides.

Enough. I gotta go outside with the cat.

Starting.

We are now seven years into what, as a child, I used to call The Future. To me, anything beyond the year 2000 meant flying cars and metal wands to heal wounds and food in the form of colored pellets. Seven years into the future. Sounds pretty cool, doesn’t it? Or maybe I’m just too much of a sci-fi fan. Imagine how much I loved Back to the Future. Man, was that a cool movie or what.

Seven years into the future, then, and I have many things to show for it. And the past year has now gone up in smoke. It went by so fast, obviously. I have been dreading writing this post as I was telling K the other day, because I don’t feel I had a particularly great year. I can sum it up in a few sentences, as I have discovered, but I feel it would rob all the significant things that happened, good or bad, of their significance. I need to rest on 2006 for a little while longer and mull it over. So rather than do a retrospective of 2006, I’ll follow K’s suggestion and make my list of resolutions for 2007. Sure, it’s already 3 days in, but it’s never too late to make resolutions you know you won’t keep anyway. Hmmm. In your face, Little Person In My Head. (Little Person has been bitching the last couple of days, because nothing was done around the house. I had decided to take a holiday. She’s now very upset because she is dousing me with lingering doubt and remorse over not having kept my resolutions and I keep telling her she can go to hell and suck my big fat….popsicle.) Okay, we need a title, here. Something not too pompous. Ah!

The 2007 List of Resolutions That Will Not Be Kept by Me (and probably a bunch of other people):

1. Take good care of myself. That means eating well (which I already do), getting some exercise (which…I totally already do…ahem.) and generally not being a couch potato. (Note to self: develop method for knitting in sleep or while running. Consider cost of hiring little monkey to do knitting.)
2. Do the dishes every evening (wait – when we bought this house, wasn’t there talk of a dishwasher?)
3. Read good books. (Brigitte, ball’s in your court. Hit me.)
4. Count fingers every day to make sure they’re all there. Wait – that doesn’t sound right. Ah! I meant count my blessings every day to make sure they’re all accounted for.

That’s it! Eureka moment. That’s what I want to do this year, is count my blessings. So little people do it. Well, I shouldn’t put it that way – I should specify that lately, I have been attracting people who like to complain about everything. Even good things. Good things are never quite perfect enough. There’s always that tiny something that takes the shine off anything. You wanted a red car? You saved up for years and bought the red car? You’re happy parading around in the shiny red car? Good. Focus on that. Not on the disappointment you are feeling because you could not get the $1500 mags to go with it, you know what I mean?

Throng of Readers, prepare for my onslaught of shameless, wide-slashing generalizations of what human beings are like. Okay, maybe not. I’ll upset people. So Throng of Readers, look around you. I’ll wait.

Where are you? In your home, in the ‘office’? At work? Internet café? Some coffee place with your laptop? What do you see? You see things that are on some shelf, on a table, in a bag. Clothes, cars, phones. Things that are material. You also see people’s faces, maybe. Some are happy, some aren’t. Some look miserable, but it’s just to attract attention. Others look happy, but their faces hide repressed sadness. Some just look blank.

Now look a little deeper, scratch right past the first couple of levels your eyes can adjust to, you may see decisions you’ve made, friends you have, smiles you’ve given and have received, things that were said in confidence, foreheads you’ve kissed, surprises that were planned, laughs shared, hands you’ve held, and promises you have kept. It’s that deeper look I want to be able to take as often as possible, just to remind myself that no, not everything is beautiful and pink and fuzzy. But things certainly are better when you look at them from a certain angle.

I wish all of you a happy, healthy, insightful and creative New Year, from the bottom of my heart.