In my mind I’m gone to Carolina . . .

And in my body, too, as of this evening.

Mike left the Kitty Den at six this morning, after hugging and squeezing the cat enough to last him till mid-September.  *sniffle*  It makes it a lot easier that I’m following after him later today — I won’t really be on my own until Sunday afternoon.  At which point I’ll throw my very own pity-party, yay!!  You’re all invited!!

Here’s hoping for clear skies and smooth flights.

Happy Friday!

Separation anxiety

I haz it.

(Thanks to Borepatch, who sent me the picture.)

One of the things I learned from the run-up to the wedding was that I don’t deal well with change.  Whether it’s changing our provider of car insurance or which version of Windows we use, I have a strong urge to stick with the status quo.  I *know* I should research all the details of new options versus current option, make Venn diagrams, and come to an informed conclusion . . . but really I get overwhelmed, nervous, and uncomfortable.  (One of the many reasons I appreciate Mike is that he’s very good at that — looking up and comparing options for insurance, 401 (k) plans, etc.  Thanks sweetie!)

With that being said, it’s perhaps not surprising that I’ve been ill-at-ease with Mike’s impending six-month departure to Charlotte.

For one thing, we still don’t have final word that he IS going to Charlotte.  We got a step closer on Friday, but it’s still not settled.  For another, more disquieting thing, we don’t know when he’ll leave.  I don’t know whether we’ll get a one week of notice, or two weeks, or three.  I don’t know exactly how long he’ll stay.  I don’t know when he’ll be able to come home, or when I can go visit him.

And to think — I used to be of the opinion that I’d make a decent Army wife!  Yeah, not so much.  If Mike heading off to Charlotte — a very safe city, for a very civilian job — gives me low-down uneasiness because it involves uncertainty and change, I probably don’t have the intestinal fortitude to be an Army wife.

It’s not a super-happy situation, but it does make it better that I’ve learned to recognize this about myself:  I tend to let new developments and anything stressful waft around me in a free-floating, amorphous cloud of anxiety, making it difficult to sleep and causing fatigue.

Better, of course, to address worries and problems head-on.

And better still to use this impending departure as a spur to go take our gun safety courses, the sooner the better.  We’re trying for this weekend.  If we make it, you can expect a report on Monday!

Owwwwwwww

I have a nasty habit of grinding my teeth in my sleep, especially if I’m perturbed or worried or anything like that.  Yes, I have a mouthguard.  No, I don’t use it.  Why?  Because it tends to give me dreams that I’ve been kidnapped, bound and gagged.   I’d rather take the tooth wear and resulting headaches.

I’ll try to have an actual, interesting post sometime later today.  In the meantime, OW.

Why I didn’t post this morning

As my regular readers (all four of you) may have noticed, since I bought my baby Eee I’ve been posting more in the mornings, before I go to work. I’ve mentioned before how I try to post something before I hit my fave blog spots every day; since I prefer to read rather than write, it gives me a reward for posting. That, and after reading a lot of posts by people who are more brilliant/analytical/logical/plain-up funny than me, I’m reduced to mumbling “Yeah . . . what he said . . . and she said . . . that too . . . “

However, my nice neat little pattern was snapped this morning because I overslept. Instead of slapping the snooze button for a half hour and then (at 6:20) staggering out in search of coffee, I managed to turn off my alarm clock altogether. I have no memory of doing it; all I know is that a concerned Mike tapped on my foot at 6:40 to make sure I knew that sleeping and rolling over to sleep some more did not magically equate to getting my butt on its way to work.

Thank goodness I only took one NyQuil pill last night instead of the recommended double-dose. I’d likely still be asleep.

The sore throat has largely vanished — all hail the tea-with-honey and salt-water-gargling! (I do hate the taste of salt water. I tried to convince myself I was at the beach in Puerto Rico tasting ocean water while fighting my way through the waves. It didn’t work. Something about the wearing a suit and overhead fluorescent lights put paid to that illusion.) Sadly, at precisely 8:25 last night my sinuses took all that moisture and decided to grab it in a deathlock. I know the exact minute I became congested because that’s when I Skype’d my sister and — hey presto! — started sounding like someone shoved my head full of cottonballs. This, too, shall pass . . .

P.S. Speaking of cotton balls — along with the horse’s head we also got LilBro1 a Godfather poster. Turns out I do a not-horrible Marlon Brando impression. “Someday . . . and this day may never come . . . “  But no, I didn’t stuff my cheeks to give me jowls. I don’t think the look would do anything for me.

Self-portrait plus endorsement

Alone with the kitty and the Eee ... hmm,what kind of trouble can I get into?

That necklace?  It’s an Algerian love knot modeled on the one from Casino Royale and it’s absolutely fabulous.  You can find it here.  Or, for you gunnies, try here.

Happy Friday!

Fun with webcams!!

done

Why, yes, we do say greetings like Kim Jong Il.  Why do you ask??

Rajah demonstrates why Netbooks are cool

Because you need room on your lap for a laptop AND a kitteh.  Duh!

UPDATE: Busted!  Yes, Alan, that’s why I got an Eee

On this day in history . . .

. . . after about 23 hours of chanting “Hell no, we won’t go!” — I finally deigned to enter this world.  Sorry, Mom!

I like to think I’ve gotten slightly less stubborn over time . . .

P.S. Thank you to OrangeNeck, Breda and Alan, who sent me birthday wishes through my oft-neglected Facebook account.  Thanks, guys!

Wedding bonus pic: Obligatory humble pie

You were all so sweet and flattering and complimentary — Jay, Tam (who did NOT make girlish squeals, of COURSE ) Shoothouse Barbie, Borepatch and TOTWTYTR – that I’m due for another dose of humble pie.  You wouldn’t want me to walk around with a swollen head, would you?

And so, I present to you — BOUQUET TOSS FAIL!

Yep, that is me slinging the bouquet directly into the ceiling above my head.  I’m damn lucky it landed behind me instead of bouncing off my carefully-curled hair.  I ended up turning around, closing my eyes and hurling it like a Frisbee into the waiting crowd . . . where it was treated like a swine-flu-laden-soggy-tissue.  Seriously, it lay on the floor for at least ten seconds before someone finally scooped it up.  Her marriage is already set for this fall, mind you.

Now aren’t you glad I shared??

P.S.  Here’s a handy symptom-checker for the swine flu, courtesy of Better and Better.  Tell your friends!

Wedding photos!

Well, they’re interesting to ME, anyway   Fear not, dear friends; soon en0ugh I’ll run out of “ME! ME! ME!” stuff and go back to catblogging.

My attempt at the mirror portrait:

Orchids for . . . um, purity or passion or something . . . or really ’cause the color matched and they worked better than roses.  You can’t see it, but Shoothouse Barbie’s barrette is sitting at the top of the coif:

Walking down the aisle with my parents, smiling and trying not to cry.  I’m not screaming “HOLLA!” as it looks here; I don’t know what I was doing, actually.

One of the posed pictures after the ceremony, and one of my favorite.  (Apparently none of my old friends were surprised that I chose a wedding dress that had a red corset down the back — I don’t know why.)

In the limo on the way to the church reception, and SO.  HAPPY.

The first dance . . .

(See that dot of color above the orchids?  That’s the barrette!  Thanks for my something borrowed, SB!)

The End

(but really just the beginning, as we all know . . . )