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My cat is chasing his tail. Is that normal? It’s amusing enough to watch. He sits down, turns around and stares at his tail, which he twitches ever so slightly, then pounces. The tail is controlled by HIS brain, correct? I should probably stop spiking his water bowl with rum.

I am currently holed up in my bedroom “doing homework.” The Steelers/Browns game is on and I…I just can’t watch. I’m too stressed out as it is and Ben Roethlisberger gets my blood pressure up. And the husband’s behavior during a game is really, really jarring.

I am totally addicted to Everyday Food and of course got all nerdily excited when the new issue showed up in my mailbox today and got even MORE nerdily excited when I saw the special holiday baking issue advertised. Of course, you have to either go to a newsstand and buy it or call the 800 number on the advertisement to order.

So I call…and the customer service rep has no idea what I’m talking about. Shouldn’t they be kept abreast of these things?

And before you think that this behavior indicates my Stepford qualities, let me assure you that my house is completely fucking gross right now…a reflection of its owner.

Edit: Oh my god, the hold music is a Muzak version of a Gin Blossoms song. This is depressing.

Edit edit: Seriously. The rep got back on the phone after five minutes on hold because she had to “consult a specialist” and then I got disconnected. Life sucks.

I actually had a few blissful moments to myself this morning. The husband played records last night at Remedy in Lawrenceville, so the baby spent the night at my mother-in-law’s. The club was pretty fun, though the turnout was pretty pitiful. Does no one go out anymore?

The mother-in-law dropped me off at the club since the husband had to go earlier. When I got there, the bouncer asked me for my ID and then said, “Are you here for the comedy?” What? When I got upstairs there was, in fact, a stand up comedian performing and I was very, very confused. I stood there for a minute until I finally tiptoed to the back room where the pool table was and found the husband and our friend Tony and, most exciting of all, our friend Jonathan who recently moved back here from Colorado. I was so happy to see him, especially since we’ve been trying to get together for the past, like, two months with no success.

When the comedian was finally done, they got set up and started playing records. I was stationed by the door to collect the $2 cover charge, but that was…kind of a bust. No one was really showing up (a) and (b) everyone that came upstairs apparently worked at the bar. There were more bartenders than patrons. And when I managed to snag one actual patron and told him that it was $2, he asked me if I wanted to play pool. Another guy stumbled up the stairs and when I said, “Two dollars, please,” he replied, “I really need to stop smoking weed.” So, everyone there was either a bartender or mentally impaired in some way. Fun!

But the music was, of course, really great and I was so pleased to bullshit with Jonathan all night. We emo-ly comiserated that we have no friends and hate everyone, so it seems to be really good timing on his part to have moved back here.

Anyway, the husband and I slept waaaay in this morning and after he left for work, I snuggled onto the couch with my coffee and my laptop and turned the TV on. The mother-in-law dropped the baby off a few minutes ago and we’re watching Sleepless in Seattle, which the baby apparently really likes.

He is going out with my mom and dad in a little while and I am doing homework, laundry, homework, laundry, homework, homework, and uh, homework. So exciting! *dies*

Ah, finally!

But you know what else? Today is me and the husband’s anniversary (relationship, not wedding). We have been together for seven years.

I’m impressed with us. *brushes dirt off shoulders*

It’s really weird to think that when we finally got together after roughly a year of indirect flirting and all-night chat sessions on ICQ, I was just a goofy, irresponsible 22-year-old kid and he was just barely 21. Everything is so different now.

I was looking through my LJ for something the other day and found this entry from our 5th anniversary and that sums everything up pretty well.

…but I think I deserve a Drink.

Today was stressful, but it’s over. Thank dog.

I’ve been meaning to mention that our fish did finally kick the bucket the other night. It happened some time on Tuesday night and the husband noticed that he had flitted off this mortal coil while I was putting the baby to bed. We briefly debated over whether or not to tell him right away, but figured that since the fish had some serious nastiness going on, leaving him in the tank for a day might result in some traumatizing unpleasantness. So we broke the news and had a quick little fish funeral. The baby wanted to be the one to actually flush the toilet so we let him do that. After the fish was finally gone, the baby started crying and, well, that was really sad.

My thoughts were all disjointed the next day and while I was gushing to a co-worker about the baby’s new reading skills, she asked me if I had given him any kind of present. I said, “Oh, well, his fish died right after so he got to flush him down the toilet.” Like that was his reward. Hi, I’m Mommie Dearest.

I seriously don’t know why I speak sometimes.

I am going to be dealing with multiple crises at work and will be too busy to post anything of substance.

Just FYI.

I emailed this picture to the mayor’s office a few weeks ago and today I got an email from Gigi Saladna, the Communications Manager.

“Hi Kelly,
Just a note to let you know we did receive your email with the picture of the Mayor back on Oct. 29 (We’re a little backed up with emails!)
What a nice surprise! The Mayor loved it and thanks you for your kindness. (We were all teasing him how tall he looks in the picture!)
Thanks for taking the time to write to us – we really appreciate it.
Sincerely,
Gigi”

The baby is reading. Like, actually reading sentences in a story book. This is a really cool milestone. Really cool. I am all a-grin.

Also whoa: I has too many limbs.

One tradition that I’ve always been a sucker for is holiday cards. I’ve been sending out my own cards since I was about 16.* Now I am currently facing the dilemma of what kind of cards I want to send out this year and that’s good because it means I’m not procrastinating and it gives me something to think about other than, “Oh my god, what was I thinking going to grad school? I’m going to die.”

I was just telling Angela about all of this. I’m very tempted to have this picture turned into a card:

Then the inside would say something like, “Happy Holidays. Or whatever.” I took that of us at the beach last year and I think it’s very…us. Cranky. Squinty. Wearing hoodies. Messy hair. Eye bags. All of that. The only downfall, of course, is that the baby isn’t in it.

I’m such a sucker for pretty xmas cards that have like Walt Whitman and Robert Frost quotes in them and shit, though.

*At least that’s how I remember it. I could be totally making that up.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure our fish is done for.

Betting on the possibility that the swelling was just constipation, we cleaned out his tank last night and put some epsom salts in the clean water. But once I had taken the fish out and had him in a cup while the new water was getting to the right temperature, I got to take a look at him from above and saw that his scales were raised. According to the few sites that talk about betta illnesses, that’s a Very Bad Sign.

I took some pictures of him just for documentation. We told the baby to say goodbye.

This morning the fish was still hanging on, though he was sort of curled in a corner and not moving very much at all. I feel really bad for him since it looks so uncomfortable and I’m so worried that he’s in a ton of pain.

The baby is taking the impending loss pretty well. When we initially told him that the fish was probably going to be dying very soon, he cried. But over the weekend he’s been focused on just being very nice to the fish, drawing him pictures to be placed by the tank and offering to drop pennies into the water (we quashed that gesture). He knows it’s coming and is sure to tell the fish that he’s loved and will be missed.

But this whole episode has, not surprisingly, exacerbated the baby’s fears about death…specifically my death. I’m not sure when exactly he caught wind of the fact that every living thing someday dies, including moms, but it’s been a struggle ever since. I’m stuck somewhere between wanting to be honest with him and not wanting to see him upset. We’ve touched on concepts like heaven but I’ve told him that no one knows for sure what happens when you die and when he’s gone down the list of people he loves to find out if they will all have the same fate I’ve told him the truth.

I’ve also told him that death scares me sometimes too and it’s perfectly natural and good to be at least a little afraid. I don’t feel comfortable slipping into religious explanations because I don’t really believe them and it doesn’t seem fair to assuage his fears by telling him something I don’t think is true…or really that will ultimately let him down when he gets older and more cynical.

I don’t know. I don’t want to make it sound like an obsession. It’s not like it’s death 24/7 at our house. But he gets really upset by the fact that I am going to die which I totally understand. Hell, I’m 29 and I’m still paralyzed when I think about the fact that my mom will die someday.

But I wouldn’t mind if he just kinda laid off every once in awhile. On my birthday we had a relatively cheerful discussion of the things that he will place in my coffin when I die (ie, drawings, toys, etc.).

But I kinda felt like, “Hey, could we NOT discuss my mortality right now since I’ve just taken a step closer to it? Thanks.”