Confessions of a Thrifting Addict

Hello, my name is Betty, and I'm a thrift-store shopaholic.

I have not gone thrifting since . . . well . . . 12 hours ago. I was doing really well for the past couple of weeks. I told myself that I could handle it, that I would only glance around to see if there was anything there. I didn't even buy anything.

Although, I admit that two weeks ago, I was a bit gluttonous. I couldn't help myself. They were having a 50 percent off sale on sweaters, and I really needed to buy some 'tween pants, as I found that maternity pants were too big and I poured myself in my "regular" pants with a lovely flabby overhang--if I could get them buttoned. I figured the thrift store would be a safe bet to buy, since I've been losing weight and was tired of looking (a) dowdy or (b) trashy. Also, I've been frequently peed on by my contented infant son(The Calf), so I needed extra clothes to bum around the house in--as I was changing my clothes as often as I was changing diapers.

I went to the DC-area thrift-store Mecca, Unique Thrift Store and Unique Bazaar, and hit the mother load. I bought six pairs of pants, three sweaters (half off), and three sweatshirts (again half off). I also found a cast-iron skillet, a copper-bottom skillet, and a Le Creuset sauce pan. I bought all of these treasures for the price of one pair of designer jeans.

I am currently on the hunt for another Baby Bjorn and another sling, in case said infant unit chooses to void on our current ones. (Since The Calf has difficulty getting to sleep without the sling and we travel with him in the Bjorn, you can see how convenient it would be to have a spare around.

I guess I'm like Amy Winehouse when it comes to thrifting.

I don't wanna go to rehab, no, no, no.

If the apartment we were renting wasn't already furnished, I would buy furniture there. I spied an art deco waterfall bedroom set for about 50 bucks, I shit you not. All you need is some sandpaper, varnish, and elbow grease. Booo yaaa!

However, Hun has reminded me that we have two of my thrift pieces stored with friends back in Albany, awaiting our return when Hun concludes his research year in DC and completes grad school. I also have a china hutch back at my parents' house in Denver.

When I moved into my adult apartment, I think I furnished the whole thing for about 500 dollars. It didn't look like off-campus housing either. I think my most expensive purchase was my cedar chest I bought and refinished for about 80 dollars.

We also have a used bookstore nearby, whose profits go to events for the public library. I used to volunteer there while I was pregnant, and I got a discount for that. When I went a couple of weeks ago to the used book store, I bought 10 comic books, two paperback books, and two cookbooks for the price of a paperback at Barnes & Noble. I will miss this store when I leave.

Not that I haven't scouted thrift stores in Upstate New York. Most of them have an amazing selection of furniture. Some of the pieces are quite old and need a little TLC. I also got a big chunk of my wardrobe there.

7 Fascinating Fun Facts about Cowgirl Betty

“A gal can’t live by condiments alone.”—fracas

Season’s Greetings, Cowfolk. As most of you know, I haven’t had the same access to the wild world of InternetLand for the past six months or so. As a result, my posts have become less frequent. One of my New Year resolutions will be to post once a week. That way I can kick start my creative juices. So, thanks for bearing with me, y’all and not giving up on regularly checking on my site.

I have been reminded by the esteemed fracas about my lazy writing habits, and so I’ve been tagged on a meme as a result. Of course, I will tag others to pass on the Holiday joy. Like the game Othello (also a fabulous seasonal gift), rules take a minute to learn and a lifetime to master. (Well, perhaps writing takes a lifetime to master—something I still struggle with.) The rules are:

• Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
• Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird
• Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.
• Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

(1) I scored a perfect 5 on the English AP exam. A lot of U.S. colleges accept AP (or Advanced Placement) credits for taking higher-level classes in high school if they pass the nationally standardized AP exam for the subject at the end of the year. The first part is your standard multiple-choice reading selections and analogy sections. The second part is an essay answering a question, choosing a work out of a list of twenty or so authors. The question was examining “thoughtful laughter” in literature to demonstrate folly in the human condition. Of the authors to choose from were Jane Austin, Mark Twain, etc. I chose to write about William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury. My English teacher thought I tanked the essay for sure.

(2) I drive around in a rolling trash can. I drive a 1997 Saturn, named Norma Jean, who has seen better days. Norma Jean is littered with McDonald’s and Dunkin Doughnuts bags, coffee mugs, pens, Mapquest directions, and other U.F.O.’s (Unidentifiable Floor Objects). A layer of dust and lint is plastered on my dash, and touching it is reminiscent of reading Pet the Bunny as a kid. One of my jokes to kids is that they can’t steal my trash, nor can they step on it. Sometimes a mysterious odor--I believe it is from some spilled sour milk on one of my back seats--emanates from the seats when it is overly hot, a back window is open during a rain storm, or a kid spills yet another drink on the seat. I have to dump in a quart of oil to my engine about once a week, as Norma Jean burns oil like it is going out of style. I’m hoping she can survive another year before I have to put her out to pasture.

(3) I am a horrible speller. Regular readers already know this. Daddypapersurfer also is more than happy to comment on any of my semantic gaffes. My mother also calls me “Ms. Malaprop”. Usually no one notices when I misuse big, fancy words--except my mother and Hun. (Perhaps other people notice it as well, but they are too polite to mention it.)

(4) Playing video games makes me nauseous. Hun makes fun of me about this. He also tries to encourage me by saying that my mind hasn’t played enough video games to disassociate the action of the game from reality. I’ll stick with Tetris.

(5) I really enjoy tawdry romance novels. This shocks most people who know me. I seem like a straight-shootin’ kinda gal. They then mock me liberally about it. If they only knew how much fun they were. One of my secret goals is to write a tawdry romance novel one day. You know, one with a spunky heroine named after a plant (Willow, Fern, Iris) and a hero named after an architectural feature or a bird of prey (Sir Hawksbuttress, Duke of Roman Arches).

(6) I hated Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows. The first couple of chapters were good, and the last couple of chapters were good. However, I’d rather not drag through 600 pages of Harry whining and arguing with Hermione and Ron. I also think it is truly stupid for J.K. Rowling to “out” Dumbledore. Making Dumbledore gay just added absolutely nothing to the series. I think Rowling did it to stimulate sales from the Religious Right to buy in bulk for their rollicking book-burning parties. Now making Dumbledore gay from the onset--like when the creators of The Wire introduced the bad-ass, Robin Hood, dealer-robbing Omar--that is a different story.

(7) I eat fear for breakfast. Actually, I don’t. I eat granola and yogurt, drink two small cups of coffee, and take multivitamins. I thought it was just a very cool, Jack Bower-esque way to end the meme.

As far as tagging folks goes . . . I will tag the following: (1) OnKnees, my lady in arms, fighting the good fight, (2) my mother, The Heiffer, who is also a big romance novel fan, (3) Kimchihead to find out what really makes him tick, (4) Stella, for her fun haiku, (5) Sugar Queen for making the world sweeter, (6) R. K. Texarado, who’s humor is dryer than the Dust Belt, and (7) Rybu, who truly understands cold weather. I can also now safely say, “Not-it!”

Condiment of the Month: Nutella

I'm sitting at the local coffee shop next to Hun, sipping on a icy and refreshing beverage, and writing about general malaise. I note to some chagrin that I have not posted in almost a month. So much for best-laid resolutions of blogging at least once per week. I miss writing--time to fire up my neurons again.

I am also hungry. Not hungry (or "hugry") as I was in my last post, as much as hungering for a little adventure. My feet are itching for some exploration and travel, as it is the season for me (although fall is the season of choice for Frodo and Bilbo).

I always enjoyed family vacations. But the best adventure I have ever undertaken (notwithstanding the ongoing adventure of married life), was my 3-month trip around Europe. I recognize it is a bit pale in adventure to some of my more worldly friends, but during that time I saw all the wonders I only read about, read the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and fell in love with myself again. My biggest stress each day was to find a roof over my head and figure out what sites I would first hit. I met some interesting people and made some friends along the way. All the while, my diet consisted mostly with fresh-baked bread, wine, and Nutella.

I fell in love with Nutella while I was PMSing in France. Although my unwelcome Aunt Flo followed me across the Atlantic, Nutella kept my aggravations at bay. Nutella comforted me on days I felt more than lonely, was a quick gnash in the morning before heading to a museum, a wonderful wind-down snack while lounging in a hostel and sharing the beloved jar with fellow travelers in the mood for the tasty morsel or just some conversation.

I also discovered how wonderful Nutella is with bananas in Switzerland, and traded Nutella for some Vegemite in Munich. I chatted about life, the universe, and everything with some Aussies, some Irish honeymooners, and some Harvard Law students--influenced by generous amounts of red wine, topped off with Nutella when the philosophical drunkenness drowned into hunger.

Some Nutella paved the way for some girls to ask me to tour Rome with them. I wouldn't have seen the city otherwise--I heard too many horror stories about it at the time to travel through Rome alone. Rome wound up being my favorite place in my European tour, and I owe the opportunity presenting itself to Nutella.

When I returned, I went on hiking trips and camping trips with a jar of Nutella in my backpack to keep my energy up. Before the airline restrictions on carryons, I would sneak Nutella on flights to munch on long rides.

I don't practice the "have Nutella, will travel" philosophy so much today. With my slowing matabolism and Hun to keep me company, I'm more likely to pack sun screen than the chocolate-hazelnut spread. I didn't bring Nutella with me to Thailand, nor to any of the cities I've seen along the East Coast. But to this day, when I see Nutella, I still think about how the age of Conan the Barbarian was described: these are the days of high adventure.

In a couple of weeks, Hun and I will have passed a couple of milestones. He will officially be finished with half of his grad program--and have completed a mojo-important test. We will also have completed our first year of married life. We will be celebrating by enjoying fireworks by the Brooklyn Bridge. Although no Nutella graces our cupboards, I still think our time here in Upstated New York has been (and will continue to be) filled with high adventure.

Sunday List: Much ado about nothing, or the missing blog

I got an interesting (and unnecessary) apology from my friend, for my last blog entry. She was very generous and memed me in a link-exchange, hoping to increase some of my readership. The meme she participated in, as well as I, sparked a debate at one of the FuelMyBlog forums. (Might I add--FuelMyBlog is a really great site if you want to find like-minded bloggers to exchange ideas, find interesting sites, and meet new friends.) The forum discussed the ethics of the meme, discussing if it was putting those on the top end of the list at a higher advantage regarding linking-- and linking to other sites unethically inflating some of their blog ratings.

The whole deal got me off my my lazy arse and started figuring out some of this high-tootin' fenangled goo-gaa stuff about ratings, technorati, and all that is tossed around the 'net like a sack of hot cow-pucky. The below is my humble unscientific analysis about the whole subject:

(1) Technorati's rating system are pretty controversial. I read an interesting analysis at Sacred Cow Dung. Those with low ratings to begin with, well--It's like using a sprat to catch a mackerel(A fellow blogger's assessment wasn't far off the mark). Whenever even one other site links up to a sprat like me, my ratings jump up. That's because I distinguished myself from all the other ghostly blogs out there abandoned by their creators.

(2) The higher you climb with technorati, the harder it is to maintain your status, and the more sites you need to have linked to yours--because it take a lot more links to have your rating rise by even one rank. As far as getting even to the top 100, or even top 10,000--you have to be a friggin' giant--like Google, or MSN, etc. to achieve such status. No matter how many sites link to yours, a search engine, or monster media service will always win out. (P.S. Google--I think you're swell for hosting blogger for hostile little upstart cowgirls like me . . . if I do offend.)

(3) This leads to an inverse curve--a big red flag in statistical analysis--in finding any significance in the data (or so I'm told). In other words, relative to the giants--whose rating might have some significance--we are all lumped in the same statistical pile. In other words, technorati's ratings don't mean a hill of beans. My "authority" jumped up with the meme, but I'm still in the same league as those who have a lower rating and less "authority" along with those who have higher "authority" than myself. It's a shame how people really get fired up (and market researchers, etc.) about technorati's ratings and authority distinguishing a "scientific" basis for the value of a site.

(4) In my humble opinion, It's all about content, content, and content! (But it's a bit too subjective and not easy to assess for market analysts.) There are a ton of folks out there who have damn good blogs with ratings next to nothing alongside with high-quality blogs with ratings that reflect their work.

My conclusion: I can see how both sides of the debate can justify their reaction--my response is the whole business really isn't reflective of anything. If participating in a link exchange is the worst thing I do in the world, well--I'm still golden. I also didn't take in a stray kitty, pissed off a shitload of kiddos, caseworkers, and foster parents, etc, etc.--all in a day's work. Will I participate in one again? Probably not. I don't want to feel like I should even participate in the technorati gravy train. For those who are serious bloggers who do, have at it. But from what I found out--technorati isn't able to rank the importance of a personal blog. It really doesn't matter. Unfortunately, a lot of advertisers look at technorati ratings.

I'm really glad other great bloggers helped me get off my arse and find out for myself about the whole hulabaloo. Statistically speaking, the whole schpeel about site ratings is much ado about nothing. Unfortunately, a lot of folks out there hang their hat on the value of a rating--and that's the scary part, because so many other blogs with lower ratings go unnoticed.

If anyone asks why I removed the Bang!! Bang!! You're memed!! blog below, I decided not to bother with it. It's fine for folks to participate in this blog in my book--heck, I did it too. But I really don't want to rock the boat for those who fight for their ratings, and I don't want others to think my blog has more "authority"than others without reading it for themselves. I also took myself off the master list to be fair to those who are participating.

Aw, shoot. I'm tuckered! To take care of myself, I will watch The Man With the Golden Gun, and eat something with a condiment. I imagine I'll get a field of comments regarding my little diatribe. That's all good. I'll cowgirl up and keep my ears open. I might learn some more about the vastness that is the internet and rating whatnot before it is all done ; )

Adios!

Betty

Some Overdue Resolutions

Howdy y'all. As most of you know, I have been promising for the past couple of weeks to resolutely write a list of resolutions for 2008. Now that we are well within January, my list has ripened past fashionably late to procrastination purgatory. (In other words, I am turning the corner of "better late than never" and rapidly stampeding ahead to "why even bother".) So without further ado, I bring you the much anticipated (well . . . not really) list:

(1) I resolve to be more kind to myself. This means I also need to start taking better care of myself as well. For instance, I will be taking daily vitamins, not eat so much candy at work and eat lunch instead, attend regularly scheduled dental checkups and physicals. (I really can't say eat out less because, well, we rarely order pizza.) I will also *shudder* exercise for 10 minutes per day and work my way up. When the weather isn't unbearably cold and slippery, I will jog around the block. When it is too cold, or I am feeling too lazy, I will do simple things like pop in an exercise DVD for a few minutes and do some stomach crunches. I will also participate in an exercise activity at least once per week. If I skip a day of not working out, or eating too much candy, I will not beat myself up. I also will be able to learn the joys of the word "no".

(2) I resolve to explore more. This could mean more traveling up and down the East Coast while I'm here. It also means exploring Albany and Upstate New York more. Hun and I discovered a climbing gym. I hope to find some climbing buddies to help us explore the Gunks. I also want to be able to hike more in the Adirondacks to escape the heat in the summer. Hun and I already discovered the joys of apple picking, small towns, gardening, etc. I plan on trying my hand at snowboarding on the East Coast and definitely Hun and I will continue to cross-country ski. It's all out there, I just need to invest the time in finding stuff to do. Hun and I are planning a trip to Washington DC, and are totally stoked.

(3) I resolve to be a better housekeeper. This means I put things away after I am done with them, and keeping my surroundings other than my kitchen immaculate. (Hun is generally the more tidy of the two of us.) I will also go through my belongings every six months and purge anything we didn't use, view, or wear. I also resolve to be a better cyber-housekeeper to my blog, such as keeping my blogs tidy and regularly post. I also resolve to post on my other blog at least once per week and continue with Condiment of the Week. I will also post one personal list per week and start editing some of my video for youtube superstardom once per month.

Well, that is that. I didn't resolve this year to be more kind to others. I figure, if I take better care of myself and the time to spend with those who I care for, kindness will certainly follow suit. I'm used to usually placing my needs after others, and I should practice being selfish for a change. Overall, my life is pretty darn good--and I need to take more advantage of it. This might mean I might not be on Santa's Good Cowgirls list this year, but then again the old boy is a bit out of touch with the times. (I can't believe PETA hasn't gotten their claws in the jolly elf for reindeer cruelty, not to mention elf labor laws.)

Technical Difficulties

I am experiencing some technical difficulties at the moment. I am trying to change around my new look, but am having some issues with customizing things. Hence, the haphazard disarray of my blog layout.

Blogs to come:

(1) My (overdue) 2008 resolutions

(2) Condiment of the Week

(3) Show and Tell (very innocent)

(4) Plenty of griping and complaining

If ya don't like it, then hitch yer horse somewheres else.

Enough, already! I will be folding laundry and painting my toes for the remainder of the evening.

YEA, BABY!!

Just returned from a mandatory pep rally, featuring our fearless leader. He wanted to encourage the troops about all the great work we do in "touching children" (ewwwww!) He said he used to touch many children, but now, he rarely does. He has to rely on folks like me to touch as many children as we can. YEAH BABY!!

He talked about all the great work the agency has done, including the foster-care program growing in leaps and bounds. (Due to work of by our office. However, he forgot to mention that--spank you very much.) He didn't get around to naming my boss, or any of my coworkers . . . but he did single out some of them . . .

. . . for not paying proper attention to him. One of my coworkers received playful looks by others in my office because tomorrow is her last day (she accepted a position for a county agency--yeehaw for her). Our fearless leader was discussing employment retention at the time.

"Is there some kind of joke I'm not getting? Would someone like to share?" barked our fearless leader from the podium. All the sudden, MAs and clinicians were reduced to the age of 10-year-olds. Wide-eyed, silent questions of Did he just say that? flashed across the room.

He continued to talk about touching children, how our agency was a great place to work, and really, even though some of us from the audience were looking at him like he was fake and didn't care--he really did. (I vote for fake, myself.)

So, in case our fearless leader is worried that no one was paying enough attention to him, I want to assure him I was listening to every word . . . YEAH BABY!!

I agree on his view that our agency has done great work. I am proud of doing what I do--as much as I bitch about the system. I disagree with the whole touching children and families--that's just creepy.

Holy Cow!!

Wow, I had quite a weekend! Hun and I postponed date night on Friday. (Hun has a big test tomorrow.) I perused various blogs listed on FuelMyBlog, an online blogging community filled with wit and support I joined in December.

As a reward for Hun's studying, we ate Chinese food and watched a couple of DVD episodes of Forever Night, a show about a sexy vampire cop. Unfortunately, the main character, Nicholas Knight, fails on all three counts. He is neither sexy, a powerful vampire, or a descent cop. However the show's cheese factor--something I greatly value--is so high it offsets the character's inadequacies as well as the overacting, horrid writing, and "special effects" and amplifies the entertainment factor tenfold. Think of the show as a late night version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Dr. Who. I also place Big Trouble in Little China and Kolchak: the Night Stalker in the same glorious (or--more precisely--horribly horrible) category.

On Saturday, I ran errands and Hun and I cooked some food, and fed Dog, the ball python that lives with us and shares our life. I also looked at other blogs, such as Fracas, Daddypapersurfer, Sylvie Dixie, and onknees. I posted my two cents in the comments section. I also noticed a fellow named Kimchihead who even posted an anecdote to my neglected second blog, What is the nature of true love? (Alright, enough name dropping.) I started messing around with my inadequate photo editor, and made up a new flag for my True Love blog as well.

I also neglected to post anything regarding New Year resolutions. (Yes, I am procrastinating that list as well . . . I suppose I need to get back on the wagon, as it were.) I guess you could say I got a bit distracted.

This afternoon, Hun and I went cross-country skiing. Along the drive up, I bitched and moaned about Hun inadvertently killing me by overestimating my abilities on the trail. Hun attempts to use empathy, bargaining, and even reason to coerce me out of my anxiety. I continue to berate him as we are putting on our skis.

Hun told me he was not a cold-blooded bastard and he would never place me in danger. He also said I could stop anytime I felt over my head and take off my skis--but no, I continued to berate him. He said he wanted us to enjoy the afternoon, not for me to be miserable--and making him miserable as a result. He scooted off and I was left on my own.

I put on my skis and shifted around. I was being overly dramatic about the situation. At the same time, I don't like losing any argument, and I could just pack up the car and leave him be--that would show him.

I huffed as he was winding his way up the steep trail.

I had no right to snap at him. This activity was supposed to be fun. Fine then, I would crawl up the slope and see how well I did--if I did break my neck and die, at least I could prove I wasn't being histrionic.

I inched my way up the slope as Hun was sliding back down, asking me if I was coming. We climbed the hill and I didn't fall, or even side-stepped up the slope. I mumbled I was sorry about snapping at him--it was just he sometimes overestimated what I could do.

No, Hun replied. Not really. You usually underestimate yourself.

We slid up the trail and slid back down. I fell a couple of time, and Hun gave me some pointers. I even smiled a few times--despite Hun telling me it wasn't allowed and having fun would ruin the dark cloud over my head I was strongly trying to maintain.

I concluded that I did underestimate myself--more often than not.


We returned home and I checked my computer. Sylvie sent me an e-mail and I opened the attachment. I was awarded blog of the day.

Who'd a thunk? Hun was right.

Thank you Sylvie, DP, Fracas, Kevin, and everyone else out there in the FuelMyBlog cybervillage. I am honored. I even added the widget to my sidebar.

Next stop--Hollywood?

To be continued . . .

I have a great New Year Resolution list being created. On the list is to stop procrastinating. Therefore, I am shutting down my computer and starting up a DVD episode of 24, Heroes, or Forever Knight. I will post my list later . . .

What was that sound? Did I break something?

Hippo Gnu Deer to Ewe and Yarns!!

Back in the Saddle Again

Howdy, y'all! I am back from XMas vacation in Colorado. It was a supreme delight visiting with relatives. I'm still spinning a bit from excess sugar consumption and the yummy goodness of decent Mexican food.

I also had to cram in some kiddo visits at work on Friday and setting up everything for a new set of kiddos on my caseload. It was also fun to chew the fat with my coworkers about their break and discuss Holiday cheer. I received multiple stockings filled with various cavity-inducing, high-caloric units (i.e. candy). They stood ready and waiting on my desk Friday morning.

I received some info from my boss regarding the kitty of the previous post and how to proceed. She said she believed the kitty probably belonged to someone and was a barn cat that had taken to me. Since the cat didn't look like it was hungry, and it had a collar with a bell on it, it probably belonged to someone. However, I will still be on the lookout for kitty this winter. If it looks longingly at me to provide some shelter, I received some helpful info from an anonymous commenter on a no-kill shelter in the area.

The commenter's comments were--well--colorful, the information was appreciated. (But not enough to actually publish them. Thank you, Blogger for comment moderation.) This leads me to a second point. It's rather interesting, I've been blogging for almost a year, and I sometimes write about work. I have yet to receive a comment about someone out there being outraged about human children being abused, neglected, you name it, on a daily basis. Granted, I don't write specifically about my kiddos. (I am not going to write anecdotes from work to spice up my blog. Other than violating the confidentiality taboo, I don't want to use my kiddos' life stories as ways to make the online community boo-hoo and whatnot.) But I sometimes discuss my frustrations with helping kids in the system. Do you know how many irate comments I've received about what kind of bitch I am for pulling kiddos out of foster homes and making teens take drug tests? Not one.

I write a post discussing an encounter with a cat, and I am the devil. I had to moderate a few comments off my blog, mentioning I should be very ashamed of myself for not subjecting Hun to allergic shock for bringing a cuddly car-riding cat home and an outright hostile "Merry Christmas, Bitch" when I didn't bring the cat to a no-kill shelter at 8:00 at night. (Well, I didn't mention that in my last post, I guess.)

This was a bit eye-opening to me as our value for humanity as a society. It kind of reminds me of Michael Moore receiving a lot of flack about including footage of an impoverished woman killing and skinning a rabbit for meat in Roger & Me. Moore mentioned he never received any comments about the footage of a kid getting shot while playing in the street in the next scene. Both scenes are acts of violence. Granted, I was horrified when I saw the rabbit got skinned. But other animals get slaughtered for our tables every day. Why was it that no one was concerned about the kid getting shot?

I'm sorry, kitty lovers, but I'm a bigger fan of people.

The story did tug at the heart strings a bit. The encounter definitely provided a great deal of internal conflict for me. I love animals. But one thing doesn't keep me awake at night: the kids on my caseload go to bed at night with a full stomach in a nurturing home. There is more money donated to PETA and other humane societies then there are to children's charities. You could argue that people can communicate for help and animals can't. Well, I would also argue that most kids can't either--they don't know how, or they don't know of other ways of living other than the chaotic environment they may face day in and day out.

So, kitty lovers out there, call me a bitch. That's what keeps my kiddos safe in a system that give more of a shit about paperwork than people. As far as the car-riding kitty, I'm still keeping an eye out there for him. And thanks for the heads up for the no-kill shelter Anonymous, even though you thought I did the wrong thing.

Everyone out there, have an awesome new year. I plan on working on being a bit more kinder to my neighbors, and to myself. Hugs and kisses to you all. As much as I rant, I am super lucky to have great family, loyal friends, strong women, and most of all Hun in my life.

Anyone want a cute, cuddly kitty?

Most of my friends know how anti-glurge I am. You know those massive e-mails folks send out, discussing how a seemingly insignificant act of kindness saved some one's life. (I'm sure most of you got the one about the kid who picked up some books a nerdy student dropped. He walks the nerd home and they become friends. When the kids graduate high school, the nerd thanks the kid for picking up his books because the nerd planned to off himself that day and the kid helped him appreciate the joy of living. Whatever. It is an incredibly fake story. It didn't happen. But I digress.) I'm about to spread some glurge of my own.

I completed a visit tonight with one of my foster families, and I was outside, chatting with the foster parent. I spied a cat--quite a frequent visitor at this home--sitting just outside the door, cuddled by the house to absorb the heat.

The parent commented about how a neighborhood cat wouldn't leave the property since I made the mistake of petting it this fall. The foster parent then talked about how she believed it was a neighbor's cat, but the cat seemed to go through the trash and didn't really leave the property. She said she wondered if the owners abandoned the kitty, or if they were just negligent.

During the foster parent's monologue, I was scratching the kitty behind the ears, between the eyes, at the base of its tail. The cat responded in kind and purred and kneaded the fence he was laying on. The cat looked at me longingly. I picked it up, and the cat cuddled under my coat, purring even louder and rubbing its forehead under my chin.

"How sad," I sighed, "no one loves this kitty."

"Oh, I think someone does," the foster parent corrected and lifted her eyebrows.

"Hun would kill me." The cat snuggled closer and the purr grew louder. I am so dead.

I walked to my car, rationalizing that it would be only for a night or two. I could plaster the pic of the adorable creature and someone would snag it in a moment. Who cares if Hun is deathly allergic and I would have to take him in to the emergency room tonight because he stops breathing.

. . . That is, if I survived the car trip home. (Cats are notoriously bad for having major nervous freakdowns when confronted with a car ride. Most cat "owners" transport their feline companions in kennels if they need to take them anywhere.) I carried the cat to the car, and opened the door. I sat down with the cat in my lap and the door still open, to give the creature a chance to escape if it would be too much. The kitty stretched off my lap and explored the back seat. I turn the ignition. The cat looks at me, asking me with its eyes what the hell am I waiting for. I shrug my shoulders and assume it is fate. I close the door and head down the road.

The cat sits down and gets comfortable in the back seat. Doesn't make a sound, doesn't try to claw out my eyes. It just sits there, enjoying the ride. I can't believe it.

I drive along the road, and the cat pads over and takes its throne on the front passenger seat and snuggles next to my bag. I realize Hun and I are traveling on Saturday and won't be home for over a week. Who will take care of kitty, when the furry creature is moved to unfamiliar surroundings? We don't have any friends who can feed and love it while we're in Colorado for Decemberween. I scratch behind its ears as I ponder the moral dilemma.

Do I take a creature and bring it to a place it's unfamiliar to--knowing full well that I couldn't permanently keep it? A shelter wouldn't be open now. My boss might have a better idea of who could take the cat in. The cat didn't look like it was starving, and it seemed to be savvy enough to keep warm. It would be wrong to take it to our house with no one to care for it over the week. I really wanted it, though.

Shit.

I turned the car around and drove it back to its trolling grounds. I stopped the car and opened the door. The cat looked at me again, asking me what the hell I was doing. I paused, wondering if there were any loopholes I missed in this dilemma. Unable to think of any, I picked up the cat and brought it outside. The cat leisurely scampered away into the night.

If anyone knows of a good cat-loving home in the Albany area or the Upper Hudson Valley, I would greatly appreciate it. I know of a good cat that enjoys random car rides with strangers. (I would also love to know the names and numbers of any area shelters--but I can google that.) I'm sure I will see the creature again. I will be making a plan in my head in case I face the same moral dilemma.

If you are the owner of a car-loving cat in the Upper Hudson Valley, then shame on you for keeping it out in the cold! I almost catnapped you pet! What if I were someone with malicious intent, hmmm?!

I feel guilty and heartbroken for leaving that kitty. I feel like Scrooge by doing nothing. But next time . . . well, I don't know what I'll do yet. I just need to figure that one out. Would it be better to leave the cat there, or to take it to a shelter or give it to someone else?

I am very ashamed . . .

. . . I forgot everyone's birthday this year. I royally suck as a friend and as a daughter. (Yes, this is true, I forgot the birthdays of BOTH MY PARENTS.) I also forgot my best friend's birthday on December 4. I have been remiss in keeping my phone charged as well.

I am such an asshole.

I wish I could even make an excuse that work has been crazy. But it always is crazy. There's no difference between past an present. Between crazy foster parents, crazy bio parents, crazy coworkers, it's all a big blob.

I suppose I can blame seasonal effective disorder--isn't that the one when you get more out of it when you are exposed to less light in the winter? We have very little light when it is technically considered "daytime", much less the stark blackness they call night in Upstate New York.

To any good friends and family out there, I've been trying to call--and bordering on stalking behavior--because I realize I've been a bit insensitive lately. Blame the bland uhgness that is my life.

I am really interested in how the kitchen is being remodeled, any baby firsts that I am missing, as well as buns currently in the oven . . . much more so than the problems Upstaters have no compunction but to unload on anyone in hopes of gaining some free ride or another . . . I have become more local, and I haven't realized it.

Someone shoot me now. But please call back so I know we are on speaking terms . . .

Betty

Call me bored

I just started another blog, titled "What is the nature of true love?"

I've pondered this question for some time, and even made a mini-documentary about it. I won't publish it on youtube any time soon, since . . . well . . . some of my friends might not appreciate it.

However, have a gander, and please contribute!

I even have a poll.

you can check it out at www.whatisthenatureoftruelove.blogspot.com

I hope the blog name is long enough . . .

Betty

Happy Hallow-versary

I love Halloween. It's my favorite holiday. I could skip some of the more daggy holidays, like
Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day and celebrate Halloween a couple more times a year.

Hun and I started dating around Valentine's Day. We were at a party at a mutual friend's, and the party headed to the Mercury Cafe in LoDo to see a band perform. I was working it pretty hard to get Hun to moderately acknowledge my existence, as another guy--not nearly as cute and mysterious as Hun--kept on dropping liberal hints that he dug me. I was trying as hard as possible to avoid the not-as-cute guy for complex political reasons, hoping his attempts at flirtation were just in my head and halfway succeeding at my self-delusion.

At the end of the evening, Hun asked me if I had any plans for Valentine's Day. I told him I had none and went on a tirade about the suckiness of V-Day and the corporate exploitation of the masses. I told Hun I much rather celebrate Halloween. So much for putting the nail in that coffin--pun intended.

My friend who hosted the party then extorted me into hitting on Hun the next day (V-Day), saying he seemed to like me. I said I didn't think so, and he was too young for me anyway--like three years younger than me. She kept on picking at me to do something, for Christ's sake, for the rest of single humanity that didn't have an opportunity. I harumphed and acquiesced to her demands--but on my terms. I sent Hun a Halloween e-card, with two gross-out eyes rolling around a monster's hand, singing I Only Have Eyes for You.

Most guys would have freaked out about some strange chick sending a creepy card and petition for a restraining order. Hun didn't. He laughed, called me up, and asked me to watch Halloween with him for our date. I brought over a pizza and the movie and we sat and talked through the entire John Carpenter masterpiece.

When Hun and I were talking about getting hitched, our original plan was to get married today instead of July. (It's a good thing we changed our mind, since we got a nice vacation out of the deal and got to see friends and family with us instead of standing in front of a judge. It's also a good thing because I have some anal-Exorcist thing going on today.)

We celebrated our 1-year dating anniversary by going to the Stanley Hotel of Shining fame as well. We got the most out of our stay, Hun being the industrious sort he is. We ran around the hotel after dinner that night, taking pictures of anything looking remotely spooky. Hun got a shot of some guy in a white baseball cap with mojo camera equipment without a flash. It looked quite ghostly and he was prodigiously proud. We encountered a gaggle of young women who were also running around with their own cameras, freaking each other out as well. Hun was hungry to show his "ghost" photo to see how they would react. Another guy was nearby, attempting to attract some kind of positive attention from them. He was saying he was a ghost hunter--the ladies were not impressed, and were pleading for Hun to save the day.

"Don't show the picture," I whispered. "They'll flip a gasket."

He didn't, and the girls and the ghost hunter went their merry way.

The next morning, we went on a ghost tour the Stanley offered. We thought it would be free as a guest. We guessed wrong. It was a good tour, talking about all the history of the place, and the tour guide even mentioned that the Ghost Hunters from the TV show were running around with mojo camera equipment, tracking down the supernatural bumps and creaks. Hun and I looked at each other, thinking about that damn "ghost" picture of the guy with the mojo camera and the baseball cap and the "ghost hunter" hitting on the ladies the night before. They were the Ghost Hunters. We brushed against minor celebrity and didn't even shudder at the sudden chill in the air.

Hun also saw the opportunity for hauntingly glowing irony. "Don't show the picture," I warned him again. "Don't do it!" That image of the cameraman walking down the staircase in blurry and spectral spookiness was burning a hole in his camera. He had to show someone. I hid behind a plant while he was showing his handiwork to the tour guide.

Needless to say, the tour guide was impressed and we didn't pay a dime.

Midnight Confessions

I can't believe I spent all day reading fan fiction.

I just finished An Assembly Such as This, the first in a--believe it or not--trilogy based on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Talk about a marketing strategy.

All the while, I have Moby Dick, Katherine Graham's A Personal History, and A Passage to India gathering dust on my bookshelf. They sit patiently, waiting for me to crack open their pages. Some books on hold creased pages that mark their abandonment--my eyes never gracing their end matter.

I also have a collection of dogeared romance novels and sci fi next to my bed and Martha Stewart's Living magazines stashed in the bathroom.

You won't tell anyone . . . will you?

The Joys of SOCMOB

"I was just standin' on the corna, mindin' my own bizness, when I . . ."

. . . get knifed in the chest, accosted by two gentlemen who shove crack cocaine in my pockets, impregnate a woman just by looking at her, get struck by lightning. Take your pick. I have a kid on my caseload whose life is a Madlib set of excuses.

Yeehaw.

I also have two files to be audited tomorrow. I found out this morning.

Yeehaw.

I cringe at hearing about a former friend wishing her life were more glam and rich in a letter to herself.

Yeehaw.

I wish I had time to watch T.V.

Get over it.

Will write more later, while I'm working this weekend.

Betty