Married

All posts tagged Married

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…

wpid-20150703_055828.jpg

He build a cat sized TARDIS.

wpid-20150703_055903.jpg

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.

wpid-20150625_162223.jpg

 

The Whole Elephant

Published April 4, 2015 by ia84

Today, I boxed up the boy’s old dishes, and supply of plastic glassware, and unpacked my dishes & non-plastic glassware and put it away on the shelf.  I’m in the middle of making my second loaf of bread, with my super awesome new bread machine.  I cleaned the master bathroom.  I emptied the trash out of my car (it was such a mess, it went well beyond embarrassing).  I accomplished much, and yet I’m sitting here feeling like I accomplished nothing.

If I were Suzy Q. Homemaker, I’d have everything clean, the basement would be completely organized, the laundry would be going, the thank you notes would be written and delivered, and all of my belongings would be unpacked and put away and no longer living in boxes making the guest room look like a disaster area storage unit.  (And I wouldn’t be writing long run-on sentences.  Also, I wouldn’t be using terrible grammar because I’m too lazy to go back and fix obvious mistakes.)

As of today, we’ve been married for three weeks, and I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.  It’s hard to explain.  It’s been a crazy amount of change in a very short amount of time.  Before three weeks ago, I’d never kissed a guy, let alone lived with one.  Before three weeks ago, the most responsible thing I had to do everyday was just make sure I got myself to work.  The boy has been amazing.  He’s incredibly patient with me, and that’s truly what’s getting me through this.

I had lunch with my dad yesterday, and I was telling him about how frustrated I am with myself.  Basically, I want to be SuperWife, and falling  short of mark makes this perfectionist want to cry.  I told him that I wish I had taken more than a week and a half off from work.  I had no idea how overwhelming and stressful this all would be.  He was really sweet and kind, and asked me, “How do you eat an elephant?”  Now, the correct answer is, “One bite at a time,” but lately I’ve been approaching things, “The whole thing in one bite!”

So, I’m going to do my best to hang up the cape.  Let some other poor woman try to be SuperWife.  I think right now the best thing I can do for the boy and myself is just be Wife.

I swear I can cook!

Published March 26, 2015 by ia84

Hello, World, I’m married.  It happened almost two weeks ago, and yet I’m still sitting here in a daze.

Nerd points if you can figure out both of our rings!

Nerd points if you can figure out both of our rings!

I live with a boy now.  Before we were married, I was a little worried it would be a weird experience.  However, my fears were unfounded.  Sure, it’s different, but it’s a good, mostly non-weird different.

We spent the “honeymoon” week at home, and I think that’s about the best thing we could have done.  It gave us some quality alone time, and made this whole transition a little less scary and overwhelming.

This week I’ve started learning the fine art of being a wife.  The number one thing I’ve learned?  It’s a REALLY good thing the boy loves me so much!  I feel like this week I’ve done nothing but epically fail at all things “wife.”  I’m still not unpacked.  I still haven’t finished going through what we’re keeping and what we’re returning.  I think I’ve killed the plants I’ve been trying to get to grow.  And worst of all?  My talent for cooking has absolutely abandoned me.  Wednesday I created food that was just barely edible.  Thursday (today), I made something that should have been excellent, and I’m pretty sure I missed the mark again.  I know new brides are supposed to have cooking disasters, and I’m quite thankful that so far my disasters aren’t really disasters.

That’s all the news that is news for now.  I think it’s time to go snuggle up to the boy sleeping in the other room!

My cat is extremely jealous of Grumpy Cat, which has absolutely nothing to do with the content of this post.

Published November 21, 2014 by ia84

According to the countdown app on my phone, I’m only 3 days away from turning 30…and I’m only 113 days away from my wedding. 

No, that’s not a typo. 

The boy and I are gettin’ hitched!

Feel free to take a moment and join me in the “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!” Squeal-A-Thon that I’ve been having for the last two weeks. 

That’s a large part of why I’ve not  written much lately.  It wasn’t really public knowledge until last Sunday.  Now, though, pretty much everyone I know knows, so I figured I was fine saying something here.

The other reason I haven’t written much is because I’ve not wanted to sound like a broken record.  My life is pretty routine.  I work hard at my awesome/crazy stressful job.  Sleep.  Go to the boy’s house to hang out every few days, and usually use that time to catch up on all the shows that air while I’m at work (Flash and Scorpion are excellent, by the way).  The super cool thing about being engaged (y’know, apart from getting to marry the love of my life and start a whole new life adventure) is that I actually have new things to write about. 
So stay tuned as I start a new decade of life.  Wow, that sounds cheesy.  And now I want pizza.   Which isn’t a good thing if I really want to be able to wear the gorgeous dress in 113 days.

113 days.  I’m getting married in 113 days.  I cannot hardly wait, I’m so excited!!!!!!