I've got no car, and it's breaking my heart

Obviously I have been much, much too busy for you. I have been busy wrecking my car, treating our apartment for fleas (we are gross), poisoning my smallest kitten with toothpaste, celebrating a Kovach Christmas in Boone, and arguing with my husband's health insurance company. Also having his grandmother over for lunch. (When did I turn old enough to have my husband's grandmother over for lunch? Oh well, it's fine, because it turns out I'm great at it. I made chicken and a curried whole wheat couscous dish with carrots, cauliflower, green beans, and cashews. The jury's still out on the salad, which was toasted cumin seeds, fresh cilantro, cucumbers, tomato, and yogurt - the regular kind, since Harris Teeter only sells greek yogurt with fruit involved, which seemed wrong for sure compared to just trying regular yogurt : only wrong for maybe).

Back to business. As I said, I wrecked my car and with it my chance of ever having a free minute to myself ever again. I have basically looked at every car that's for sale on the entire internet, and I'm still driving my husband's honda (and almost breaking it. I'm on a roll here) instead of the station wagon of my fantasies.

I've been wrecking lots of things, like almost my kitten's entire life, which I guess would be a lot worse if she didn't have eight more where that came from. The other day I toothpasted (word of the day! Use it in a sentence) my toothbrush, and then had to run to the kitchent to see which kitten had knocked something over to produce a giant crash. When I returned, Kina (who I should learn to post pictures of) had devoured all the toothpaste off my toothbrush, and was hunched over it with her mouth cracked open, like she was testing the minty freshness. I was horrified, and imagined her keeling over dead because of my irresponsible dental hygeine. So I called the vet, who basically told "that's a weird one," and that she (the cat, not the vet) might vomit. I wish she (the vet, not the cat) could have told me how I ended up with one cat that fetches, craves toothpaste, and needs weening (a story for another day), and one cat who seems to be trying to train to swim the English Channel. That's how much he loves water.

On the topic of cats, today I conducted a scientific experiment, which proved my hypothesis that my favorite pair of black pants is more magnetic to pet hair than any other known substance in the universe. You can never be totally sure, though. I mean, they discover new things on Mars every day.

Karen : analogies :: crazy : should not even try it - a quick tip analogies study guide for those of us suffering from the GRE

I love a good, long weekend. Being new on the job at a residential facility (I've been twice, which makes me The Expert), long weekends are something that I can only dream about. Sometimes, though, when things are extra fun, a regular-length weekend can feel like a long weekend. Here's your first analogy (so I will get an A+ on the GRE) - Stilts or very high heels : short legs :: travelling : short weekends. I didn't travel this past weekend, but my friend Millie did - all the way from Charleston in a rental car for me! If you tried to call (which, ahem, you didn't), I couldn't answer because we were busy:

1. Going to see her boyfriend's band, The Explorers Club, play in NoDa at a tiny venue that sold earplugs and munchies for $1. (this venue : a normal sized venue :: my 685 square foot apartment : everyone else's at least 750 sqare feet of housing)
2. Watching the girl in front of us "dancing" ... or else it really was a seizure...
3. Laughing at the girl in front of us dancing. Seriously, it was zombie-movie-riffic. Like if you took a zombie out of a movie, and put it in a disco, it would have looked like this girl. (This girl's moves : zombie moves :: apples : apples)
4. Watching only movies set in the 1800's, like Appaloosa and Jeremiah Johnson. (If you haven't seen J.J., in this movie Robert Redford : women :: chocolate : me)
5. Cooking a lot of food (Karen and Millie : delicious Thai coconut butternut squash soup :: The Explorer's Club :: delicious melodious melodies).
6. Eating and snacking
7. Missing the signs for 77 everywhere that we drove. (Karen : navigation :: Karen : teleportation)
8. Playing with the kittens (Franc : food :: Kina : fetching earplugs)
9. Getting fashion compliments at church, because Millie : stylish :: Karen : ticklish.
10. Catching up. This weekend : weekends :: delicious homemade chocolate mousse : mousses.

Abe's weekend also got high heels, because he went out of town to fish the frozen rivers in Boone. Travelling made his travelling extra long, because snow : Charlotteans :: kryptonite : Superman. He spent an extra night stuck in Boone. If I were the perfect wife (Karen : wives :: Jesus : humankind), purely hypothetically of course, my reaction would have been "darling, whatever it takes for you to be safe, especially since today you already had that minor accident where you slid backwards all the way down your brother's snowy driveway and ran into a wall." But Karen : perfect wife :: Karen : Jesus, so instead of saying that, I pouted.

a logger: not just a common bum

Today it was about 5 degrees in Charlotte (I counted them). That's the main reason that I showed up to work and met my first ever parole officer dressed like a lumberjack. When I got up this morning, it was cold beyond all reason (emphasis: beyond reason), so I put on a shirt, and then another, and then another, and then....

I stood there, feeling pretty awkward while the parole officer gave me a variety of funny looks. I noticed that one or more of those looks was directed at my hat, which my sister crocheted and then gave away when she decided it was too hippie for her. But at least my ears weren't cold.

Did you know that parole officers wear badges that look like Real Police-Type Badges? I did not, so I was intimidated, until I remembered that as long as this guy was like the real police, and had nothing to do with the fashion variety, I was off the hook. I am thankful that it's not illegal to impersonate a logger in the workplace.

P.S. Because this post is about 1. a lumberjack and 2. freezing temperatures, I had to name it after a line in the first song I ever played start to finish on the guitar. I don't have to explain why so far, 2 of every 2 posts on this blog mentions whiskey. Or why at a tender young age I was entertained by a song about turning a human cadaver into a tool for deforestation. Ask nerkert.

That's the business

Reading about my exciting family on their exotic blogs has made me feel kind of insignificant or bored with my tiny life in Charlotte. But Thursday means clinical meeting for Beasty Hall* at Not Yo Mama's Maternity Home,* and I was reminded that to some, it would seem pretty bizarre to work with fist-fighting pregnant women. We don't sell peanuts in whiskey bottles (please, don't let me find any whiskey bottles), but we have plenty of baby bottles, and definitely more than enough drama to supply a small theatre company.

I've been the residential coordinator on the adult hall at NYMMH* since mid-November. Since then, on my shift, approximately

• two clients have been in a fist fight (twice).
• fifteen clients have delivered their babies.
• five clients have had spoiled milk poured all over their rooms.
• three clients have been emergency transported to the ER. (The middle of the night! The extremely pregnant women! The adrenaline! The van keys! Where are the van keys?!)
• two clients have stopped speaking to me. I am the Meanest Staff Ever.
• three staff members have been chosen to go across the country for a training in a healthy relationship curriculum. One's me! I am the Luckiest Staff Ever.
• one meal served in the cafeteria has been edible

I'm thankful that my job challenges me to learn to love the difficult ones.

*Some names have been changed to protect the innocent.