chicagoartgirl23's Xanga

I Heart New York!

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 08:03:10 GMT

I'm in New York this weekend, visiting friends who are visiting from Scotland.

About the friends:

Originally from England, we met Dan and Bryony in Scotland; Dan and Shaun were in the same Master's program at Glasgow University.
Dan is a fiction writer who works at a university.
Bryony is his partner and is the single most organized person on earth.
Susie, who is also staying with us this weekend, was also in the creative writing program and is originally from Boston.
Shaun has been away in Montreal for work this weekend, but he comes back today, just in time for PRIDE!
I go back to Chicago Tuesday morning.

This is the last time I'll be in the city for the foreseeable future. And as much as living here was the pits, visiting has been a RIOT! This has much to do with the fact that I'm hanging out with some of my favorite people on earth.

Friday
After having only slept 3 hours and eaten once in the past 24 hours (insane flight delays, cab shortage, crazy long lock out story), I wanted nothing more than to bury myself in a hot stack of banana pancakes. Dan and Bryony obliged and after a dangerously huge breakfast, we ran through the kiddie fountains in Fort Tyron park and generally milled about the hood.

The rest of the day took us for a wonder through Midtown, an afternoon at MoMA (where I napped in the sculpture garden), and a pitcher of sangria at Georgios Country Grill.

Pics from our daytime adventures:

Bryony and I are sad when we wear Buzz Lightyear on our heads. Actually, I get sad. B looks a little frightened. This is at the Disney Store on 5th Avenue.

Dan, however, loves Buzz.

We also made Mr. Potato heads at the Disney Store. Mine is the pimp. Bryony's is the Ho. Dan's is our pet alien.

At MoMA, there was this great installation in the 3rd floor atrium. It was a fan on a dangling cord, powering itself to fly willy-nilly all over the place. It was a hit with everyone, but kids especially loved chasing it around.

After dinner, we experienced craziest thing of the day: Pinkberry. Imagine trying to get a business loan based on the following pitch:

Pinkberry. It's a frozen yougert shop with the look and feel of NYC's hottest night club. There's music pumping, designer lighting and furniture, and best of all: only three flavors.

Plain, Green Tea, and Coffee.

We call Plain "Pinkberry." Not because its pink or berry flavored. But because we think frozen yougert and we think flirty. We think fresh. We think fun. Funkilicious. Something so cold it's hot.

And if that's not enough (we know, it isn't), there's a shitload of cereal you can dump atop it. And a few berries. And expensive design-wear for sale on a wall.

Swirl on in, you know? Swirl the fuck in.

Needless to say, we went wild in Pinkberry. We had no idea what we were walking into really, which made it all the more hilarious. This video is of one of our tamer moments at Pinkberry. It is also sideways for a while. Its actually not that entertaining, nor does it capture the true horrific rapture of Pinkberry. But I love it and its my blog so here it goes:

As if you've not heard enough, here are some pictures:

This is my favorite ever picture of D+B.

This picture explains everything.

Me+B

I swear to god I'm not being paid by Pinkberry. It really was this fun. And not in an entirely ironic way. This pitcher of sangria may have helped. So if you go ever, make sure to do a bit of drinking first. And don't sleep for a few days. Otherwise, in the naked light of day, it might just be sad.

Saturday
Yesterday, we met up with our friend Susie at the Figment Festival on Govener's Island.

The festival was fantastic. The festival is a free "celebration of particapatory art and creative culture." There's DJs mixing along the bike path, hula hoops, kiddie pools filled with flower petals to throw and roll around in, sidwalk chalk, creation stations, live bands and lawn dancing, yoga, pet turtles, and lots more. We had a great time and did a lot of hula.

As you can see, I'm about as bad at Hula as you can get. But I like it anyway.

This is my favorite ever picture of Susie. It basically sums her up nicely.

Chit chat

I love this tiny crowd! So much lawn!

Walkin' around.

Somebody brought their pet turtle. It was so fast! Really! I thought they were supposed to move slowly, but this one raced around on his crazy little legs. Turtle was a big hit.

This big doughnut thing was for climbing all over. It ruled.

This is a pool full of rose petals. As Susie says: "If my kid didn't look cute in that pool, I'd take them back. Obviously defective. This is adorable."

After Figment, we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and got ice cream at the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory.

Brooklyn Bride. Which is not relaxing to walk across, by the way. There are cars roaring past on either side of you and the air is thick with gross smog.

Peeps

We all scream.

Right after this picture was taken, we were caught up in a thunderstorm. Serious wetness. We were instantly soaked through and through. Big fat drops of rain fell from the sky, thunder and lightening were crashing down all around us. It was God's way of punishing us for eating frozen treats at somewhere other than Pinkberry.

I love our friends. And New York. What a fun fun place to visit.

Scotland & Shingles

Tue, 24 Jun 2008 11:06:26 GMT

I'm gonna answer the Xanga Featured Question today: Where were you are year ago today?

A year ago today, I was in Scotland. The nationwide design festival I worked for had just wrapped up seven days before. Shaun had just won a young authors festival reading in Edinburgh. My stepdad Tony was in town with his lady friend Cheryl. And I had shingles.

Here is a funny snippet from a blog entry I wrote on the last Tuesday of June 2007:

Saturday, I noticed a series of red bumps on my upper left thigh and showed them to Shaun with fascinated disgust; I thought I must have rolled over a spider in the night and in a struggle to live, Mr. Spider attacked my leg with bites. I hoped to soon notice super-powers emerging; the agility of an insect and the ability to shoot web out of my wrists. But then Sunday rolled around and instead of feeling like Spider Woman, I felt like I had a hang over, which is never a fun feeling but it especially sucks when you’ve not even had anything to drink the night before. The bites were swelling and turning purple-ish; the left side of my abdomen waned puffy, swollen and tender. “Must be some sort of allergic reaction to Scottish spiders combined with some gnarly menstrual cramps,” I thought. I slathered bug bite cream on my leg, took an ibuprofen, and spent much of the day napping. It hurt to walk.

Monday rolled around and the bumps seemed scabbier. That’s a good sign, right? I limped to work. Since my job is so sedentary lately, the day was fine. Except the bits where I had to walk; then it felt like someone was stabbing me in the tender, node-laden place where the front of my left leg joins my body. Ouchie. I fell to a fitful sleep at 7.30pm.

Today I woke up and called my doctor. My leg/abdomen hurt like a mutha, with the added fun of the chills, sweats, a migraine, and real live menstrual cramps. I described my problem to the GP over the phone and was whisked to an emergency appointment; not an easy thing to do when using National Healthcare.

The doctor looked at my leg and said, “Those aren’t bites. Those are shingles.”

I just answered this Featured Question, you can answer it too!

Everything in its house

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 12:07:28 GMT

Last weekend I was in NYC to see my husband and his visiting parents. I know that I compartmentalize things, but I hadn't realized how much I'd done so with this separation from my husband until last weekend.

I've been noticing more than a few new footprints on my site from new readers, so it might be worthwhile to stop a minute and explain my situation. If you've been a long time reader, apologies for the redundancy.

My husband and I moved to NYC last October. We were returning stateside from a year living in Scotland. Usually we live in Chicago, although we were both born and raised in the same hometown in Michigan (we were friends, then sweethearts in high school). We'd never lived in NYC before, but thought we'd give it a go. While it was a great career move for my husband (he works in publishing), it was taxing in many other critical ways.

Firstly, NYC was so expensive that we had to work so many jobs just to keep our heads above water; we are accustomed to saving a large portion of our earnings for travel, emergencies, grad school, and the baby we're planning on before I turn 30 (I'm 26). But saving in Manhattan is a laughable endeavor. We felt lucky just to make rent every month and pay bills.

Not only were we unable to feel comfortable with our finances, but the multiple jobs were harrowing. We simply didn't have time for our evening walk, frisbee, staging living room readings of our favorite plays, and doing fun little collaborative writing projects together. We felt lucky just to eat a meal together once in a while. We needed to change our habitat and reclaim our lives.

We are currently living apart for a few months as we transition our lives from Manhattan back to Chicago, a city we've always loved and feels like home. Practicalities and fiscal responsibility have him wrapping up life in New York and I setting up life in Chicago. And while I planned on missing my husband for the few months we were going to be apart, I figured it wouldn't be much different than how much I've missed him all year. But it is.

I once heard a radio story about cuddle clubs. These are clubs in major cities where single people go to cuddle. They are not sex clubs. In fact, many people go to them to save themselves from casual sex, since lots of people find that they are only having casual sex to fulfill a need for human touch. While I get the need for touch, I don't think I fully understood it until Shaun wrapped me up in a hug to greet me. I felt every nerve in my body and cried.

Up until Shaun's hug, I hadn't really missed him. I called him on my way to work to say good morning. He called every evening to say goodnight. We texted, emailed, chatted in the day. I sent funny snail mail. We've stayed very connected. Probably more so than when we were living in NYC together and simply falling into bed exhausted every night.

Plus, I was having a blast rooming with my best girlfriend, reconnecting with and making new Chicago friends, riding my bike to work, and running along my beloved lakeshore path every morning. I started a new job that I find extraordinarily rewarding at the museum that I used to work at, a museum that truly is a home to me. There was gallery hopping, opening night parties for new exhibitions, a new 1950's skirt and a pair of vintage wedge shoes from my favorite resale shop, a fresh haircut at my favorite salon. I have a rich and busy life here, but at the same time, a lot of personal space; I've found this pace to be unique to Chicago. One day I'll find a way to articulate it better, but I know that it is true.

Anyhow, I simply didn't miss Shaun. But when he folded me up in his arms last week, I did. All at one. In a flood of tears.

My writing compartmentalizes things less. My subconscious bleeds into it. Three days after I moved back to Chicago, I started writing a story about apocalyptic love. I've never written a love story before, let alone a sexy one. My story is more along the lines of Walker Percy's Love in the Ruins than Bridget Jones ' Diary, but it is love and sex nonetheless. So obviously the two things were on my mind.

Anyhow, we had a great time together in NYC. Shaun's parents loathed the city and our apartment and our lives in general (they want Shaun to give up on his career as a writer, get a corporate job, move in next door to them in the Michigan suburbs, and have loads of babies that I stay at home with. We'd both rather die than do any of those things.), but we ignored their negativity to the best of our ability and enjoyed their good moments. Because they really are loving, beautiful people underneath all their worry and uncertainty. It just takes them a while to get them limbered up and accepting.

On Friday, we met Shaun after work for drinks/small plates at the Zipper Factory and a walk through Central Park. On Saturday, we stayed in our neighborhood and visited the Dykman Farmhouse before lunching at the farmer's market, followed by a walk through Manhattan's last remaining forest.

It felt so good just to do little things for family. I made a great pizza for Friday's lunch. I baked blueberry muffins for Saturday's breakfast. I liked making Shaun's coffee. I like knowing exactly how much milk and sugar he likes. I like knowing which mug is his.

I also like how Shaun remembers when I offhandedly mention something I'd like to read and then secretly orders the book for me. He always makes sure that I have a quiet little pile of reading material stacked neatly on my desk.

Anyhow, it was hard to have all the heartache come pouring out at once, but it was really good too. Its not healthy to compartmentalize things like that. Its not healthy to compartmentalize most things, but its hard to learn how to be that efficient while still being "whole." I'm learning, though. Slow and steady.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Do you compartmentalize things?

Everything that begins as comedy ends as a blog entry

Fri, 06 Jun 2008 09:57:27 GMT

I'm nearly finished with The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano. The book takes form, flips it upside down and shakes it. The story is told in part journal-entry, part interviews. Near the end of the book, the following statements cap off each interview. When put together, the statements form a poem of sorts. (Bolano himself identified with being more of a poet than a novelist--and the book is about poets--so this device is fitting and wonderful.)

Here are the statements from the book, in order:
1.) Everything that begins as a comedy ends as a tragedy (pg 513).
2.) Everything that begins as comedy inevitably ends as comedy (pg 514).
3.) Everything that begins as comedy ends as a cryptographic exercise (pg 516).
4.) Everything that begins as comedy ends as a horror movie (pg 519).
5.) Everything that begins as comedy ends as a triumphal march, wouldn't you say? (pg 521).
6.) Everything that begins as comedy inevitably ends as mystery (pg 524).
7.) Everything that begins as comedy ends as a dirge in the void (pg 526).
8.) Everything that begins as comedy ends as a comic monologue, but we aren't laughing anymore (pg 526).

Q.) Which statement do you like best? Which do you identify with most? Which one makes you laugh?

Personally, #4 makes me laugh every time I look at it but none of the statements hold any truth for me. I'd say:

What begins as tragedy ends as comedy (because nothing ever begins as comedy. This is the stink-hole of humanity that we're born into after all).

I might also phrase it:

Everything that begins as tragedy stays as tragedy until you realize how funny it is.

Q.) What's your take?

Beautiful Day, Beautiful World

Sat, 31 May 2008 18:24:11 GMT

What a beautiful day! The the sun is sunny and the lake is shimmering like a drag queen's sequined dress. Chicago's plain-faced midwestern sky is uniformly blue, with big white fluffy clouds. Its the kind of sky that says: "I am nice!"

I'm so happy that this day is grand; I woke in a panic from a strange dream, unsure of where I was. At first, I thought I was in Michigan, visiting family. But as it dawned on me that I was not, I couldn't quite figure out where I might be if not there. Plus, the kitten dropped a furry toy mouse in the hollow of my clavicle in the night, which added to the confusion: I also thought I was covered in rodents.

But once I got up and went running, things got markedly better. I was happy to be outside, happy to be in my city. Totting along the sweaty homestrech of my 5 mile route, I decided: I would buy a bike today.

I've never bought a bike before. I'd been using my mom's old bike forever. Her old bike is a huge, heavy thing; its one of the first mountain bikes ever made for women. I call it The Hulk. It currently lives in Michigan, in my paternal grandma's corn silo. I wanted to keep The Hulk there; she a GREAT bike, but I've always thought it would be nice to have a bike while in Michigan.

Anyhow, riding to work is so easy for me in Chicago; the museum is flush against the lake-shore path. I can bike to work faster than it takes me on the subway. And without the threat of passing out on the crowded subway cars! Its a bargain. Plus, public transit has gone up to $2 a ride and will only continue to go up with the cost of fuel skyrocketing.

Going through the Chicago Reader this morning, I found an ad for The Village Cycle Center's bike clearance sale this weekend. To hell with uncovering a suitable Craigslist bike! If I'm going to use my bike for my primary mode of transport, I deserve a new bike! So a new bike I got.

My new bike is named Mary Shelley and is a hot orange 07 Trek 820. Mary has special little anti-theft pins on it that make it impossible to steal the tires and seat. I also got a U-lock for her frame, a big basket on the front (I usually put my work outfits in a basket and change once I get to work and have a sponge bath with baby wipes), and a good helmet (its adjustable and comfy and after I tried it on I knew I could never settle for the foam chunk that I'd been using ever again).

In total, Mary Shelley and all her gear will have paid for itself after 2 months of riding. That's 2 months of public transit riding in exchange for a bike with all the bells and whistles that I've ever needed! Totally worth the splurge.

This afternoon, I'm in Tweet with a pint, checking up on Life2.0 (that's code for email and blogging). I love Tweet. After lunch, Tweet becomes a gay bar (for boys and girrrlz) called Big Chicks. So technically, I'm at Big Chicks. Everyone here is SO FRIENDLY. Old black and white movies play are playing on the TVs (rodeo was on before the movies) and Walking on Sunshine is playing. People dance and sing along, uninhibited and free. I feel so lucky that this place is my neighborhood bar.

Soon I'm heading in for dinner. If I'm good, I'll work more on my story. If I'm bad, I'll watch a movie with Squee (I think she went to Blockbuster this afternoon). Either way, I'll get an early night. Tomorrow will be a BUSY day at work; its opening weekend for the Jeff Koons show. And the sexually explicit material warning is going to be a fun one to handle complaints from. Explicit indeed! But that's what happens when you marry an Italian porn star and make MASSIVE photo-realistic oil paintings of your sex life. Ha!

Which reminds me: the members' opening night party last night for the Koons show was a blast. My friend Nick and I both loved the show and ate and drank and socialized and were merry. It felt so good to be back in the museum at an opening night party. I felt like my life was back, for real.

Hope everyone has a great weekend! Have you, my dear reader, any fun weekend plans?

Be well!

So much life happening!

Fri, 30 May 2008 15:06:43 GMT

Friday morning, I was one of those dramatic, tear-stained airport people. Beside LaGuardia's checked baggage station, Shaun wrapped his arms around me tight. I used his shirt as a kleenex.

"I'm sorry," I repeated.
"Don't be. It's okay. It's okay. It's good."

I thought of soldiers and their spouses and how this was their life, only worse, with the lilac-stench of death hovering over everything.

Crying in the airport, I thought of something I'd written for Shaun that compared heartache to the ache our muscles feel on a long mountain hike. When we hike, we trust our bodies despite the ache. Aches like these propel people forward. But it only made me cry harder to think of how strong our relationship was, how I would be spending months away from my best friend (with those sexy, sexy benefits that would also be greatly missed).

We finally peeled ourselves apart after a time. I boarded the plane and fell into a dreamless sleep. When I woke, I looked out the window to see Chicago unfolding beneath me. I cried again. I've always loved how the city curves to cradle Lake Michigan; I was home. The home that we'd plant roots in, have a family in. I was overcome with happiness, eager to build us a nest.

Friday afternoon was spent chitchatting away my frayed feelings with my roommate and best girlfriend Squee. I also got my haircut at my Chicago place (I'm now sporting a very cute, layered bob with short fringe). In the evening, we met two of her girlfriends at the Scottish Pub, where we all grew close and girl-like and made friends with our waiter, Elrubiel. And we must have been exceedingly cute that evening; when the bill came, our meals were comped and we only paid for about half of what we drank.

After nursing a small hang-over on Saturday (it is really VERY rare for me to go out drinking), I went running along the lakeshore path. And I nearly cried again. SO BEAUTIFUL. Seriously. This city. My god. So good. That evening, we had the Scottish Pub girls over again to watch Teeth, which is my new favorite movie. So much camp. So hilarious (weather the humor is intentional or not is up for debate, but I for one, don't care).

There was more running and chitchat with Squee on Sunday, which, in addition to nightly calls to Shaun, has pretty much been the underlying current to my daily life here in Chicago. I'm also writing a non-linear story with multiple points of view, inspired by my reading of The Savage Detectives. I'm also trolling craigslist for a suitable used bike/bed-thing. Also: Squee has a new kitten named Hamish, who is very cute but farts a great deal. We call him Cat Smell.

I started work on Tuesday. The welcome back was incredible. So many hugs and conversations and warmth. The MCA really is a home to me.

My new work schedule is Sunday--Thursday. And I work weird hours on Tuesday, when the museum is open late (I come in late and leave late). Since I'm in charge of everything front-of-house, my schedule reflects the hours that the museum is open more than regular office hours.

While I'm not working tonight, I am headed to the museum to attend the opening night party. My friend Nick is my date--I've not seen him since I've been back and I'm very excited to catch up. Nick and I became pals in college; we worked at the computer lab together and wrote exquisite corpse stories about McDonalds characters (because love affairs between Mayor McCheese and Ronald are very funny).

I'd like to write more (and write better), but my computer is nearly dead. One drawback of living with Squee is that there's no internet in her pad. The surrounding cafes have free wifi, but if my blogging is skimpy for a while, that is why.

All for now. Hope all is well in Xanga-land.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Wed, 28 May 2008 21:58:51 GMT

In Chicago. Been here since Friday. Having a BLAST. Love the job. Love the city. I'm home.

Will write more Friday. It's been busy and my Internet connection is sketchy. I'm writing now from one of the many, many beautiful gay bars in my new/old hood. Great music, free wifi, old black & white movies on the TVs (instead of sports) and a come-as-you-are, welcoming vibe.

I miss my Shaun. But I love this place. Oh I love it.

More soon.

I'm comin' home

Wed, 21 May 2008 12:04:12 GMT

I sent the following email today. What do I feel? Relief. Warmth. A feeling deep in my belly that every little thing is gonna be alright.

Dear Friends & Family:

Uh-oh! What's this in your in-box? A mass-email from Truly! By now, you know the drill: this can only mean one thing. That's right: I'm moving. Again.

As many of you know, NYC has been a bummer for Shaun and I. Since we first discovered that the Big Apple was a bad match for us (about two months after we moved here), we've been hard at work positioning
ourselves for a move back home to Chicago. That hard work is now paying off. And in the way that these emails usually start, I'll say: the past few days have been wild.

Friday, I was contacted by a colleague from my old job at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. She'd "heard a rumor" that I was looking to move back to Chicago (I confess: I'd been spreading that
rumor myself, to my professional networks and mainly anyone who would listen). Anyhow, the MCA had an opening in management that my colleague thought might be good match for me; was I interested?
Yes---very. A few hours later, I found myself in an impromptu phone interview. Tuesday afternoon (yesterday), I was officially offered the job.

As of Tuesday, May 27th, I will be the new Visitor Services Manager at the Museum of Contemporary Art. So what's with the super-quick start date? A massive Jeff Koons exhibition opens at the museum on May 31; its important that I learn how to do my job in a semi-seamless fashion before the exhibition opens. I think
that starting at the same time as the Jeff Koons show is a good sign; he's my favorite male contemporary artist.

Seeing as how I start so quickly, Shaun and I deemed it best if I just fly out to Chicago this weekend with my essentials in suitcases. I'll be moving in with my best girlfriend, Squee. While staying with Squee, I'm going to take the next few months and scour the city for a great apartment that Shaun and I won't be leaving for a very, very, very long time.

Shaun will be holding down the fort in NYC, continuing his freelance journalism and his day job in academic publishing. Shaun will be interviewing roommates to split the rent with for July and August (NYC is brimming with business-people and students seeking short-term accommodations, but if you know of anyone who might be looking for a big room with a closet, please send them our way). He'll either be out to join me in mid-August or mid-September, depending on the outcome the Chicago job interviews he's currently in the midst of. At that point, we'll be renting out a moving truck and making the long, 13-hour haul back home. I'll be taking a long weekend off work to assist him with packing up our NYC life.

As happy as I am to kick start our new life in a city that feels like home, I'm very sad to be apart from Shaun for up to 4 months. Thats so long! A whole season! I'm trying to keep in mind that the distance is
necessary; we're both working to ensure that we have a sustainable, happy home moving forward.

Anyhow, I'll leave you with a funny story:

Last night, Shaun and I went out for an Indian meal last night to celebrate my new job and our return to Chicago. At the exact moment that the waiter came with our food, a massive cockroach scuttled out from hiding, walked right out onto the table, and charged towards our plates of curry, thinking: "chow time!" I stood up, pointed, and screamed in the style of a 1950s horror movie--"A BUG!"--until I caught Shaun's face. He was laughing. It was all just so horribly poetic. We laughed until we cried. The whole scene made us look like absolute crazy people to the other diners. Lucky for us, New Yorkers are used to being in close confines to wack-jobs. We actually ended up staying (we were moved to a different table); those buggers are everywhere. There's no escape. Except the one that we were celebrating.

Endless love to you all,

T

Up up and away

Thu, 08 May 2008 08:30:56 GMT

I'm off to Michigan this afternoon, away for a long weekend with family. Last night, arranging airport pick up plans, my mom said something to the effect of: "soon you'll be home and you won't have to lift a finger. Just let everyone take care of you." I thought she was joking and laughed. I'd sincerely forgotten that there was a place in this world where there are people willing to say such a nice thing and mean it. Thinking back on it now, I realize how crass and mean I must have sounded.

I look forward to softening, to setting my own pace for a while. I'm looking forward to kicking back in The Union with beer and Bryan. I'm looking forward to stopping by LA Cafe and getting a snickerdoodle cookie from The Village Bakery. I'm looking forward to cheering on my cousin Sheri as she walks across the stage and holds her hands out for a well-deserved doctorate in pharmacy. I'm looking forward to sitting at the kitchen table with my mother-in-law, letting down my guard and telling her more than I meant to; when she's calm, my mother-in-law is a beautiful listener, like her son. I'm looking forward to kyaking with my mom on Sunday, and hopefully going to the newly re-vamped Clarkston Cafe with her for fancy pizzas; my mom makes me feel like me, no-matter how lost I am. I'm looking forward to running into my favorite high school teacher on the sidewalk, as I usually do when I'm out running and he's taking his dog Sam out for a morning walk. I'm looking forward to possibly getting my hair cut--a 'do that would easily cost me $70 in NYC will cost $40 (tops) in Michigan. I'm looking forward to a blizzard at Dairy Dream with my brothers. My brothers! My tall and loveable brothers! I'm looking forward to reading to my nephews and smelling their little-kid hair as they sit all squiggly in my lap. And I'm really, really looking forward to being with Shaun. Lately, after we walk to the subway together in the morning (he takes the #1, I take the A), I don't see him until 11pm, when I'm bleary-eyed and crawling into bed after a long day of work. But this weekend, we'll be together. With others, but together, holding hands and laughing at the things only we can see.

Cat Update and Name Game

Mon, 05 May 2008 08:22:39 GMT

Giles is going to be okay. The vet was *shocked* that the cat survived the fall, let alone survived without a single broken bone. The impact did incite a hurt kitty mouth, liver trauma, and massive swelling (he is a big bruise beneath his fluff), but we've got him on some meds that are designed to take care of that and provide pain relief. The meds have also heavily sedated Giles, forcing him to take it easy. Now he just stares at the wall with round, necco-wafer sized eyes. Its really funny.

Also funny: our vet pronounces our cat's name with a Dominican-style "G," turning Giles into Hee-lays. It is very exciting. Giles' full name is Giles Alejandro Scimitar. Clearly Hee-lays sounds fantastic with the middle and last names. I've taken to pronouncing it this way and Hee-lays seems to like it.

That said, the last time I tried to change his name (a few months ago, to Mr. Sexy Legs), Giles liked it at first, but soon tired of my antics and just ignored me. I'm sure Hee-lays will run its course as well.

I love naming things. I call my friends invented names. Many people I love have multiple names. Here are a few examples:

Derek: Moth/Princess MonoBitch
Lindsey: Squee/Homeslice/Homeskillet/Skillet/Slice
Julian: Juje/Juju/JujuBean/JujuBear
Keith: Queff/Queffers
Bryan: Byron/Brain/Tinos
Anthony: Hammer/HamBone
Sheri: Good Tard/Killer Bread/Bob Evans
Mom: Mamacita
Bryony: B
Val: V
Shaun: Shaun-san

I don't have too many nicknames. Derek calls me Moth (we are both Moth, which gets confusing, but not really) and Bryan calls me Tinos (also - both of us are Tinos, interchangeably). In high school, my friend Andrew called me T-dog sometimes, a nickname that I often sign off with on friend emails. My dad's family sometimes calls me TrueBoo. My stepdad calls me Mogoli, or when I'm in trouble: Ms. T. Susie calls me T(rules), which I find thrilling.

One of my best friends, Squee, has a name picked out for a cat she has yet to adopt. She hasn't even got it picked out! She just knows that its name is Hamish and that its waiting in the world for her and that they soon shall meet. I think that takes skill. I've got to know someone for a while before I pick out a pet name for them. I look forward to meeting her cat and know that it will be every inch a Hamish.
_______________________________________________________________________________
How do you name things? What's your nickname?