Magic the Gathering

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Our Family Has Grown By Four Paws

Published July 31, 2015 by ia84

When the boy and I first got together, I made it pretty clear that to love me is to love (or at least gracefully tolerate) any various pet (live or stuffed) that I may hold up in front of his face, while squealing something along the lines of, “Doesn’t he have just the most precious widdle face you’ve ever seen?”  We both agreed when we got married that eventually we’d have a dog or cat, but the timing wasn’t optimal at present.  I still needed to finish (and by that I mean start) unpacking, and we just needed to settle into being a married couple.  This is the first time either of us has lived with someone as more than just a roommate.  Adjusting has to happen.

The first few months, I did good.  Yes, I desperately wanted to go to the shelter and get a little unwanted kitty, but I knew the boy was right.  We needed to wait.  And then I got mono.

If you’ve read any of my recent posts, you’ll know the whole “yay, I got mono for the second time in my life”  story.   If you don’t know the story, basically I spent all of May trying to figure out why I felt so rotten.  Beginning of June, found out I had mono.  It was a pretty “magical” time in my life.

So, I was beginning to recover, when one of my friends let me know that the Humane Society was having a half-off sale on adult cats.  (I realize I should clarify, they weren’t selling half of a cat, it was half-off the price.  Wait, none of you needed me to explain that?  Oh well, here’s hoping at least one person out there found this terrible joke slightly funny…)  Thinking that it couldn’t hurt to at least look at the shelter’s website, as long as I stuck to my guns about not giving in to my desire for a kitty, I went browsing.  I’ll be honest, there were some pretty cute cats.  However, as I went from page to page, no image really leaped out and grabbed me.  Until I came across the image of a cat that looked exactly like my poor, dead Howie cat (except this cat had amber eyes instead of Howie’s green).

I stared at that picture, and I fell in love.  He was purrrrfect.  I wanted desperately to rush over to the Humane Society and adopt him immediately.  However, I knew the boy might have some issue if I did that.  Instead I waited until he got home, and then I kind of attacked him with all the information I had about the cat.  I’m relatively certain my ramblings went something like this, “He’s just so precious and adorable.  He really needs a home.  He’s four, and he’s been at the shelter for a month.  No one is going to want an older cat that’s already been there that long.  Just look at this picture!”  And that’s when I shoved my phone in his face, forcing him to look at the “perfect” cat.  I ended my sales pitch with, “We REALLY need a cat.”

I believe his response was something along the lines of, “I believe that you believe we really need a cat.”

“So, you’re saying we don’t need a cat?”

“I didn’t say that, I said that I believe that you believe we really need a cat.”

“So, if  I went and adopted him tomorrow, that’d be okay?”

“As you wish.”

I feel I should interject here, that when the boy says, “As you wish,” it’s super romantic and quite swoon-worthy because he’s actually saying, “I love you.”  And if you’re thinking that it sounds like I lifted that straight from Princess Bride, well, there’s a good reason for that.  I love when he says it, and I think he knows it.

Anyway, the next day my mom went with me, and I spent nearly two hours waiting to get to spend some time with the kitty.  Mom and I sat facing the row of windows, right in front of where he was sitting.  He came with the name Ziggy, but there was absolutely nothing about him that screamed Ziggy at me.  Maybe Garfield, but not Ziggy.  I spent the whole two hours being desperately afraid that somebody in line ahead of me would be there for Ziggy, and they’d get him before I could.  However, there were bunches of kittens, and they were definitely garnering more attention and visits than the big, fat, orange cat.

Finally, my number got called.

I found myself sitting in this little room with my mom and a humane society worker.  She asked some basic questions about my lifestyle and home, and then asked me why I wanted to adopt Ziggy.  I realized that I probably shouldn’t say, “He looks exactly like the reincarnation of my dead cat who I miss terribly.”  So, I gave some pat answer about how from what I’d read on Ziggy’s info, it looked like he would be a perfect fit for our home, and that I just wanted to give him at home.  I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure it sounded trite and formulaic.  I must have satisfied their questions, because they let him in the room to see how he’d do.

He did great.

I adopted him.

Then I texted the boy (who was at work) an adorable picture of Ziggy sticking his nose out through the holes in the carrier side, and captioned it, “Hi, dad!”  Unfortunately, the boy didn’t get the picture and only saw the text, and because he doesn’t equate pet ownership the same as being parents, he immediately thought that I meant a miracle had happened and I was pregnant.  Which led to him calling me with great excitement, and me realizing that maybe I should’ve worded my text message differently.  I had to burst his bubble, and tell him I was just referring to the kitty.  Later on, I had to give him a hard time about the fact that he actually thought that if I found out I was pregnant I would let him know via a text message.  Um…hello…that would be huge, life-altering, amazing news, and there is no way I’d tell him in a text message!  I could be 5000 miles away, and I’d find a way to get home so I could tell him face to face.

Ziggy came to live with us, and by that I mean, he spent the next few weeks primarily living under our bed.  He turned out to be afraid of  everything (side note: he’s only scared of mostly everything now, I see this as progress).  Since I was adamant he wasn’t a Ziggy, we started trying out new names.  For the first two weeks we called him Ajani (a cat character from Magic: The Gathering), but then I found out that Ajani is actually a girl’s name and put my foot down.  I said something about the fact that I didn’t care if he was fixed, I wasn’t giving him a girl’s name.  Which led to me calling him Monk, as in Adrian Monk, Tony Shalhoub’s character from Monk.  I figured that if the cat was scared of everything, it was a good fit.  And then the boy finished building the greatest cat house ever…

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He build a cat sized TARDIS.

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I’m 5’0″ tall, and I can barely see over the top of this thing.  And if building a TARDIS for my cat wasn’t enough, the boy came up with the most perfect name ever.

Doctor Mew.

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Totally Doing A Great Job of Writing Regularly…

Published January 17, 2015 by ia84

There’s something about publicly announcing I’m going to blog more regularly that seems to send my brain into rebellion and causes me to blog even less frequently than I was.  Which strikes me as completely ridiculous.  So, just to be safe, I’m done making proclamations regarding how frequently I’m going to write or how much weight I am going to lose. 

So, this is how I’m spending the wee hours of Saturday morning…

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I’m hanging out at the comic book store while the boy participates in the midnight pre-release of the next set of Magic cards.  This is actually a pretty big deal among those who play.  Some of these people will be here until five or six a.m., and then be back in a few hours to play for several more hours.  I’m not playing because I really, really, really, REALLY stink.  I make the worst players look like experts.  After a brain frying day at work I’m just not in any mental state to play a strategy card game.  However, I do enjoy hanging out and supporting the boy and getting lots of reading done.  I love that I can sit in the corner and read for hours on end, and no one cares or tried to bug me. 

Also, I’ll be honest, it’s a nice break from wedding stress.  I’m only 56 days away from the wedding, and my anxiety is through the roof.  I’m really excited about the future and the wedding, please don’t think I’m not.  However, there’s so much new and different that is headed towards me at break-neck speed and it’s a little scary.  I’m moving in with a boy.  That’s a definitely a first.  I’m gaining a whole pile of relatives all at once.  I’m changing my name.  I’m going to have to give up my wild, single girl habits (Translation: I have to start showing some restraint in the Kindle book purchasing).  This is only the short list, there are so many other things I could be listing off, but the goal is to not be stressing at the moment, so the list ends here.

56 days is not a very long amount of time…maybe I should start thinking about packing…

Lazy Saturday

Published November 1, 2014 by ia84

We are in recovery mode currently.  Yesterday the boy was a groomsman, and we stayed until the party was over at midnight.  Since it was Halloween, the party was a costume party.  The wedding was Magic: The Gathering themed, so the boy’s costume was Tezzeret, and mine was Jane Austen’s Catwoman.  I love Catwoman, but there’s no way I’d ever wear the leather cat suit.  Which got me to thinking outside the box.  I got to wondering what it would look like if Jane Austen had written Batman, which led to what I think was a pretty cool costume.  Mom made me a beautiful Regency style dress, I found a fantastic laser cut metal cat mask, and dad hot-glued fake nails to a pair of lace gloves.  I was pleased with the end result.

We are adorable!

He had to be into work crazy early, which means he got off of work early, and now I’m crashed on his couch doing boring things like paying bills, and he’s asleep in his recliner.  It’s peaceful and a rather nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

It’s the beginning of November (a fact that you’re aware of if you know how to read a calendar).  This means I am officially at the end of my twenties.  23 days from now I’ll awaken as a mature, thoughtful, classy thirty year old.  Or, I’ll just wake up as a 30 year old who’s really no different than the 29 year old I currently am.

I do want to start my 30’s on more positive, emotionally healthy ground than I meandered through my twenties with.  For the most part, my twenties will forever be locked in my brain as this murky swamp of a decade where I made some really terrible decisions.  However, I also made some really fantastic friends.  It’s been a strange decade, that’s for sure.

Also, since it is now November, it is officially NaNoWriMo.  When I finish this post, I’m going to start working on my novel.  I really have no idea what I’m going to write about this year, but I figure the important thing is that I at least participate in the exercise.

 

The Monster Inside Me

Published June 9, 2014 by ia84

Have you ever been in a situation where you made a choice, and you knew you were probably making the wrong choice, but you told yourself it was okay because you had been provoked; and then afterwards, you felt awful and guilty because you knew you knowingly chose poorly?

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If you can say yes, then you understand how I’m currently feeling.

I try to keep it hidden that I have a competitive side and a bit of a temper.  Not a good combination of things.  When I was in 4th grade I realized that I kind of became a terror when I gave into this side of myself, and so I made great strides in learning to control it.  Occasionally, it’s returned over the years.  Like tonight.

Ever since April, I’ve been on a journey to learn to play Magic.  What is Magic? It’s a card game that’s all about strategy.  Initially I didn’t really expect to enjoy it, but I’m starting to really like it.  I still feel like I barely know what I’m doing, but for only having been playing for about two months, I’m pretty proud of the strides I’ve made.

This weekend was the first weekend I played rounds against people I didn’t know.  Up ’til now I’ve only played against the boy and a few friends.  I wasn’t sure what to expect.  Last night (Saturday), went really well.  I actually did decently.  Tonight, however, was a different story.

There was a girl who was placed at the table I was playing at who was a complete stranger.  The other two playing were friends, and I had a bit of a feel for how they would play.  The stranger was a complete mystery.  I could tell early on that she was really not happy about being placed at our table.  Her friends were all at the table the boy had gotten placed at.  Going into the game, I really didn’t feel very good about the cards I had pulled during the draw; I pretty much decided that I’d see how the game was going to go, but was relatively certain I was just going to let myself get killed.  As the game progressed, mystery girl got more and more ticked off, and she was definitely out for blood.  (I guess she wanted to make us pay for her not being in with her friends, even though we had no control over that?)  Now, I had two choices.  I could have gone with my initial plan to get killed first so that this girl wouldn’t feel like she was being ganged up on…or, I could attack her with everything I had.

When she took to ignoring what was going on when it wasn’t her turn, in favor of playing with her phone, that was the last straw for me.  I understand that it sucks not playing with your friends.  Besides, my time with the boy is limited every week, and I lost an hour of it tonight because he was placed at a different table.  I could have  just as easily pulled a crappy attitude.  But I didn’t.

I’m not proud of what I did.  I gave into the darker parts of me, and made sure that she was the first person killed in the game.  Which, as you would expect, made her even more upset than she already was.  I tried convincing myself that it was okay to do what I did because I was provoked.

It’s not okay.  I had an opportunity to be the better person or to be a bully, and I chose to be a bully.  I can’t make the situation right.  And yes, I know it was just a game.  But the fact that I played a part in ruining her night isn’t okay.  Had the situation been reversed, I wouldn’t have liked it very much.  I guess the only thing I can do is not give in the next time I face a situation like this.  I can’t control how people are going to act or feel, but I can control my response.