Letting the Cat Out- In Two Parts

Part 1- PSA

Lately, I have seen around my neighborhood a number of "Lost Cat" signs. My heart goes out to anyone who has lost a beloved pet. I know that sometimes they escape through the door as you bring in groceries, or they push their way out a screen and run loose. Animals are quirky creatures who love to be free. However, many times I find that the lost pet was left outside, to come and go at will, with little thought of protection or responsibility of ownership. I find this infuriating.

Look kids, the average life span of an outdoor cat is something like 4 - 6 years, while the lifespan of an indoor cat is more than twice that. Los Angeles is a huge city, crawling with cars, and wild creatures, and people who suck. When you let your domesticated pet outside unsupervised, you are tempting fate and should not be surprised if you find yourself one pet short very quickly. Traffic is a killer. And don't even get me started on the assholes who get kicks out of torturing, poisoning or otherwise brutalizing pets. There are those who will not think twice about leaving anti-freeze in a dog's water dish, lighting fire to a kitten's head, or shooting your puppy so full of b.b.'s that it bleeds slowly to death while you are at work. (and for the record: all of the atrocities that I just listed have happened to animals of people I know.)

Those of you that live outside of cities are not in the clear either. Coyotes regularly patrol for meals around dawn and dusk, as do other hunters. I've even had a woman I know lose a smaller cat to an owl or hawk. (We knew it was some bird of prey, because other of her larger cats had talon punctures.) Growing up in Florida, I can attest to the fact that gators and snakes will also do quite the number on your little furry friends.

To sum up, if you take the time to own a pet... take the responsibility to care for and protect its life. Tend to their illness and injuries like you would your own, and don't leave a domesticated animal outside to their own defences. Especially especially if you have children who are attached to them. Because some memories never completely fade, like sitting in your mother's arms, weeping over the body of what was 15 minutes and one car ago, a beloved family member.

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Part 2- Confessions

My parents are happily married, but will often tell you that one of the secrets to a life long commitment is the occasional separate vacation. Therefore, although my Father will not visit until next Spring... my Mother will be here tomorrow night.

I love my parents dearly, and I know that they love me. They have wonderful senses of humor and warm, loving hearts. However, we have differences of opinion on many things, not the least of which is "what is appropriate" or "smart" regarding my forms of self-expression. I like to put cute girly stickers on my car, which makes Dad a little crazy. I dress & behave in a way that has more than once made Mom question my values. This is not an uncommon rift between young women and their parents, and I'm in no way disparaging mine. That being said, it is time to let the cat out of the bag on a few items, so that Mom is forewarned, and Dad knows without having to hear the report from her later on.

1. I have new haircut. It's short and can actually be spiked up into what is called a "faux-hawk". I can also wear it down, accented with cute little clips. Either way, it is fairly cute.

2. I have a new tattoo.


3. I have a BIG new tattoo.


4. I have big new tattoo in a really obvious place.



So go ahead, roll your eyes. Take that moment to be horrified and wonder what the hell possessed me to do that. Get it out of your system now, while you're on the East coast... so that when you're here with me, you can be with me, as I am: your 35 yr old daughter with "boho fashion" sense and a predilection towards body modification and art. While we're at it, let's remember that although I teach 6 - 8 hours of dance a week, I still weigh more than you've ever seen me weigh before. I know it. You don't have to point it out, please and thank you.


Alrighty kids, I think that's all the dirty laundry I have to put out there today.


Happy Monday to you!

Do you think they meant that?

Let me get this straight... This is a diner wherein I can only get breakfast and lunch? Is it safe to assume that they close too early for me to go in and purchase any sort of dinner?

Or could it be that this is a case of not proofreading that sign order closely enough?



P.S. They were closed up tight at 11:30am, so clearly breakfast wasn't an available option today. Which reduces their wares to lunch only. Hrmmm, that seems pretty boutique for a NoHo eatery.

Quick Update & a Good Chuckle

So, day 7 of NaBloPoMo. I've been having a bit of a dilemma, as the "post a day" requirement seems to be leading me towards quantity, not quality. Therefore, I've taken to spreading my posts around. If they are either entertaining or insightful (at least in my opinion), they go here. If they are whiny or fraught with neurosis, they get put into my livejournal. If they are simply "look- I posted," then I put them on my page on the NaBloPoMo site. This is in hopes of keeping tedium to a minimum here at CNR.

That being said, today's post is a link to a website that made me giggle most heartedly. I hope you will make with the clicky-clicky and give yourself a good chuckle.

Overheard at the Office

The Homecoming Queen is in her office, on the phone. Clearly it's a domestic call, becuase I just overheard:

"Oh shit Grandma, you're spending money like a crazy person."

It made me giggle.

Slam-packed Saturday

Yesterday was Day 3 of NaBloPoMo (that's National Blog Posting Month, for those not in the know). The only goal for the month- to post at least once every day. And yet, Day 3... no post.

I could just sigh and give up, having missed an entry so early on in the race. Or I could quickly ramble on with some justification/explanation. I have chosen the latter.

Saturday morning began as many of them do. My alarm went off early, so that I could head down to Redondo to teach at the studio. A quick stop at the 7-11 for my "Green Machine" Naked Juice, and I was on my way. Early Saturday and Sunday mornings are one of the few times that you can enjoy the LA freeways with little or no traffic, and thankfully yesterday was no exception. I made it to the studio approximately 20 min before my 10 a.m. class started.

4 hours and 2 classes later, I had to close up shop and rush to Venice for hair coloring supplies. Finding parking in Venice on a warm sunny Saturday is impossible, so I paid some nice fellow $5 for a parking spot I used for 10 minutes. 5 tubs of Manic Panic color later, I jumped back in the car and headed to the domicile of my BFF Dreamschool. She's in massage school and needs practice student. My overly stressed, anxiety-ridden body posed some interesting challenges. Or as she said, "Your muscles mock my Swedish relaxation technique." Still, I'm not one to say no to a free massage, and I definitely did appreciate 70 min of downtime.

Wow. This post is boring. Sorry.

5:15 and I had to jump off the table and head to my hair appt. Julie at Shampoo Lounge is a genius with color, and currently I'm lavender with a bright pink ring around the hairline. I've also got a sassy new super short cut. I asked for something new, and definitely got it. Now I just have to figure out how to style it on an everyday basis.

Bleaching, plus coloring, plus cut, dry and style takes a bit of time, and it was 10:15 before I headed out, to join Shazam for her birthday celebrations. I'd already missed her dinner, but figured that I might be able to make the 11 p.m. comedy show that she was attending, if I rushed north on the 405 AND met with no traffic. A laughable concept on a weekend night, but I guess the gods were with me, because I found myself in North Hollywood a remarkable 25 minutes later. I sidled up to Shazam in the seat she'd saved for me in the front row and chuckled my way through the late show.

However, by the time I got out, it was after midnight... and I'd missed the posting deadline for the day. I staggered home (which I'd not been to since 9 a.m.), fed my ravenous cats, checked out my questionable visage in the mirror, and then gave up the ghost and slept. Despite the fact that Tag is out of town, I slept long and deeply, not waking until nearly noon this afternoon. Then I got up, did the dishes, watched some movies, cuddled with the fur-children. In short, I actually had rest Sunday. Yay!

No great revelations for the weekend. But sometimes, in my crazy life, a quiet normal weekend is an unexpected gift. Hope yours was also pleasant!

Just a Quick Note...

... to wish my father a Very Happy 60th Birthday.

He claims to be feeling old. This from the man who hiked the Grand Canyon (for the FIRST time) in honor of his 50th birthday. A few years ago, he white water rafted into the canyon and then hiked out again. Needless to say, mine is a zesty family.

Hope you tip back a glass of good Romanian merlot, Dad. While I may have referred to you as "the grouchy old man" a time or two, the emphasis was NEVER on "old". *wink*

The Dark Times

November 1st. All Saints’ Day. Dios de los Muertos. A beautiful celebration of the life that we find, even in death. A time to remember those who have passed. To celebrate and honor those who came before.

Recognized as the Pagan New Year, Hallows (or Samhain) is the entrance into the Dark Time. “Caldron Time," I've heard some call it. When days grow shorter and nights grow longer, we are supposed to use that quiet night to drop deeper into ourselves, slow things down, and reflect. We are the seed under the snow, waiting for the return of the light to give us strength and energy to grow.

However, for me, it can also be a dark time in other ways. My cyclical depression raises its ugly head, and makes daily life challenging. I was diagnosed way back in the day (when I was 15), before it was a commonplace diagnosis. Chucked into therapy and eventually put on Prozac (which only made things MUCH worse), depression became the albatross around my neck.

For many years, I have fought it and worked with it. I have used yoga, meditation, herbs, spirituality and just plain stubbornness to win my life back from the condition. Most of the time, I do ok. But every few years, the situation goes beyond my ability to deal with, and I have to seek medical help. I don’t like the chemicals and the side effects, but the other option is just as unpleasant. The moods are starting to negatively affect the quality of my life. It’s getting past the point where I can function normally.

This most recent bout of numbness has also been fraught with anxiety. Panic attacks wake me in the middle of the night. Unreasonable fears assault me when I’m out in the open. The other night, I was celebrating the holiday with friends, when suddenly I thought I was going to throw up, right there in the park. My head was spinning. My heart was pounding. All I wanted to do was rage and scream and run home and hide. I continued to breathe, and slowly it passed… but the time it took to do so was oddly distorted, like watching a movie slightly out of focus, in which I am starring, but have no control over the action. It was terrifying.

Needless to say, living with someone like this is a laugh a minute riot, and poor Tag is struggling. This is a man who picks up on my PMS and gets moody with me. Therefore, you can only imagine how his sensitivity is reacting to the screaming banshee that is currently inhabiting his girlfriend. My decision to go back on meds is as much for him as it is for me. I’d like to better the quality of both our lives, bring a little peace and happiness back to our home.

It is scary to be lost like this, to feel the growing fear gnawing on me each day. It is how I would imagine it feels to be eaten slowly by a giant invisible monster. I shall take with me many tools into the belly of that beast, and hope it doesn’t all turn to crap on the other side.

And so the wheel turns.