Worry

I stress out about my cats all the time. What if they're outside and get hit by a car? or lost? or killed by some sort of cat-hating maniac? What if they're trapped inside the house when we aren't home and the apartment burns to the ground? Fidel has been lying still for a while now, I need to check that he's still breathing.

I don't know how people handle having kids.

So Long and Thanks for All the Dolphin Slaughter Footage

Just watched The Cove, and have decided I need to stop watching documentaries on Netflix. Or at least the liberal/progressive/environmentalist/socialist sort that serve only to add more things to my list of reasons mankind as a species should feel guilty. Biographies of Catherine the Great are still allowable.

They all end with a call to action: Stop global warming! Stop animal abuse! Stop corporate corruption! Stop government corruption! Fix the prison system! Fix the healthcare system! Fix the immigration system! Fix the food industry! Fix the energy industry! Fix the financial industry! etc, etc, etc, etc. But there's only so much a letter to a congressperson can do. And there are so many issues to "do something" about. Unless you want to pick a pet project and dedicate your life to it, you're really not going to be able to do much, and even then there's certainly no guarantee of change. And most of my time is pretty much already taken up with just managing my household (okay, okay, so hours every week go to Netflix alone...but everybody needs relaxation time, right?).

And so I choose to ignore the guilt part and instead just feel vaguely proud of myself because I'm more educated about the issue de jour than I was pre-documentary-viewing.

Nobody likes vegetarians, anyway.

Oh, and in case anyone accuses me of being a raging liberal instead of the moderate I am (though in Utah: moderate = raging liberal), I'll mention that my list of documentaries watched includes one about the great need we have to reduce the federal deficit. Which is apparently a Republican issue now? Though I still don't get how they're always talking about lower taxes AND a smaller deficit in the same breath. Sorry guys, but it's not possible. But I suppose that's another blog post for another day...

But yeah, self-imposed ban on documentaries that have an agenda. Starting now.

Yep, that's my husband...

A little recording from last night. We have fun. Trevor by making up ridiculous things in ridiculous accents. Me by drawing plaid onto an apron with a Sharpie. Trevor's fun is more fun to watch.

Maid of Honor

Someday, if it's ever not completely financially irresponsible, I will have a housekeeper. When I say this to people, the vast majority get a little huffy ("What, you too good for housework?").

Allow me to defend myself.

     1) Having a maid doesn't mean that I can't take care of myself; it means that I would rather free up my time for pursuits that are more fulfilling than dishes/laundry/vacuuming/etc. If I was no longer able to afford a housekeeper, I could go back to doing my own housework...it's not like I'll have forgotten how to iron clothes. Perhaps this sounds like the cliche drug-addict response "I can quit when I want to", but I do have years of evidence backing up the claim that I am capable of keeping my own house in shape (maybe not always to perfection, but livable enough). That doesn't mean I enjoy doing it.

     2) Having a maid doesn't mean I'd be forcing some peon to deal with my mess. There's a difference between owning a slave and employing a maid. I'd be GIVING SOMEBODY A JOB. People need jobs. And since this is Hypothetical Land where I can afford a maid in the first place, who's to say I can't afford to pay a decent wage? I've actually found that "I'd love to be financially comfortable enough to employ a housekeeper" is slightly less provocative than "I'd love to be financially comfortable enough to have a housekeeper".

Thank you for your consideration.

Salt Lake City Weekly: Reinforcing Stereotypes since 1984

Three Person Halloween Party...Because We're That Cool

There was supposed to be an epic Halloween party at Trapper's epic new house, which didn't happen as Trapper's epic new house is still mired in the world of paperwork ("I can't move into my house yet" is the lamest excuse ever, by the way). So we didn't have any Halloween plans.

As I sat at my computer between answering the door for trick-or-treaters (tons this year, ran out of candy...), I knew something had to be done. Trevor and his friend Owen were in the back room playing video games. And we needed a little Halloween, right this very minute.

I changed into my costume and told Trevor and Owen they had to wear costumes, too. ("You want us to sit here in costumes?" "Yes, it's Halloween." "Well okay, but only because you're intimidating as Catwoman.") We were able to assemble a disco outfit for Trevor (look closely: complete with chest hair!). I obviously was prepared ages ago with my costume (don't look closely: my mask is crooked, but I was tired of sewing at that point and stretch materials are so difficult...). And Owen...well...he got the odds and ends of the costume box and was a Rabbi Convict:

We trick-or-treated to our friends next door and then did the usual hanging around the house. But everyone wore a costume and that's what Halloween is always about. Especially since those kids took all my candy.