January is proving to be the most challenging time of the year for me. While I’m thrilled for a new year, something negative creeps into my bones whether I like it or not. My stutter is back. My bouncy leg comes out of nowhere. A sense of profound grief follows me around like Peanuts’ Pig-Pen’s dust cloud. It’s almost my Rapegativersary and my body realizes this. BUT all that being said, I have peeps who know how to keep me on the up and up, and so instead of treading water, I’m on a floatie.
My besite stopped by the Mini Manse Friday and we
guzzled sipped wine (surprise!) and watched the Melissa McCarthy movie “Life of the Party.” Beyond hysterical.
Saturday, two of my four pussies had vet appointments for annual check-ups. When I was scheduling, they asked which two and I said, “whichever two I can wrangle into carriers.” You know, Ted always just got swaddled in a blanket and sat on my lap during car rides so this carrier thing is new to me. And my pussies are not stupid (well, except for Ruby Sue – aka Thundercunt – who was the first victim in a cage).
But not for the pink one. It was a full on wrestling match trying to shove his muscled ass into the cage but somehow after about a 10 minute struggle, I got the fucking door latched.
Ruby Sue on the other hand, was in some serious shock at the thought of getting on the scale. Or being at the vet. Or the car ride. Or all three.
While we waited for the vet, I almost laughed the building down when I saw this comparison on social media.
Better belly laugh yet came when Slappy responded…
I don’t care which way you lean, it’s fucking funny. Upon wondering what kind of comedy show my pussies were putting on in the waiting room, we got a clean bill of health for both Fabs and Thundie. Although Fabio gained 2.5 lbs last year, so he’s officially “big-boned”. Just more for this mama to love on.
While my pussies were braving the vet, my Iowa twins were eating ice cream in sub degree temperatures. Because they’re bad ass like that. Pretty unprecedented weather is coming through the state with temps supposing to feel like -41 later this week. Makes me love the Nashville 50 degree winter days all the more.
First Mate had a girls gathering on Saturday evening and while I almost didn’t go, I was so glad I did.
My eye happened to catch what I thought was a tea pot on FM’s counter and thought aloud, “why the fuck do you have a penis pot on your kitchen counter?” Turns out, it’s actually a nettie pot used for sinuses and allergies and we got a full-on infomercial on how to use said pot.
Best kind of therapy for me (friends, not the penis pot).
First Mate tucked Rach and I into her couch and she had to wake us up from our peaceful
passouts slumber the following afternoon.
Good thing is, we hydrated with water all night AND ate pizza (Rach had no memory of) so after a little coffee, we were good to go after a 16 hour girl’s night in marathon.
There’s this “game” on Facebook where you can have your next five year’s predicted through photos. This is what a normal one looks like…
It takes your profile pic and then gives you standard photos for the next five years of your life.
Side note: if someone could put a pillow under my chin in 2023, I would greatly appreciate not getting a stiff neck from sleeping on the toilet face first. Thanks.
So while we all try to roll with punches that hit us, it’s always fabulous to have support of any kind. Thank you for yours.