Texas is on fire. It’s less on fire than it was a few days ago, but it is still burning with a frightening, drought-fed force. The closest wildfire to me is about 20 miles southeast, and thus I’m in no real danger—except the air quality is abysmal (all those chemicals in the air of things that were never meant to be burned are excruciating to my sinuses). It’s been a mentally exhausting week for me. I keep the Austin-American Statesman’s page open so I can constantly rubberneck the horror. Even though there are plenty of hurricanes and tornadoes and earthquakes, and the resulting catastrophes of flooding, nuclear-reactor meltdowns, broken buildings, there is something about fire that scares me in a deeply primal way. Maybe it is just my material ways, and how it is simply the loss of literally everything. There really is nothing to be salvaged after a fire. And I empathize too much with other people’s pain, and I feel at times paralyzed by what all these families have lost.
Complicating things is constantly being subjected to jokes about Rick Perry’s day of prayer for rain, and being asked if that didn’t work? Hmmm? Look, the guy is an ass, and maybe someone should be making those jokes to him, not me. It sucks enough to live in Texas and be the butt of so many jokes on a national level, but dammit, there is actual real suffering happening right now, and aiming an asinine Rick Perry joke at me is simply tiring, and makes me want to kick people in the teeth.
Thursday Clem went from being a little girl to an old lady with a quick ripping out of her uterus. Whomever shaved her at the clinic had a bit too much fun with the clippers, and exposed way too much of her underside. Just like Brekkie, the surgery was only a little blip in her life, and has not held her back in anyway. Though we should probably not be allowing it, and will be flamed by many people for being horrible parents, we are letting Clem and Brekkie enthusiastically roll around together on the floor biting and kicking each other with zeal. So far her incision looks lovely, and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain (I mean, she hasn’t stopped jumping up on the counters). Currently they are cute sleeping coins. It’s exhausting being a kitten.
Even with all my fretting over the wildfires, I managed to have a busy week. Finally saw Blue’s new place, and she made me tasty veggie tacos. She’s working on a very large, purple spider piñata. I’m a bit jealous of her crafting ways. In my spare time, I’ve been watching an unhealthy amount of Make It or Break It. I really cannot explain my obsession with crappy teen-oriented television shows. Nor can I even get in to why it’s even better when it centers around gymnastics, cheerleading or ice skating. I may hate sports, but there’s something alluring about watching 16-year-old girls working through love and back salto dismounts. There was also that lovely 90 minutes on Skype with Meggles and her two lovely new kittens. Such fuzzy little love balls. I so do wish I could fly to Seattle next week and just make out with all of them (Meggles included). Will someone please give me the money to make that happen? Also give me an extra $150 so I can see OMD in October and Morrissey in November.
It’s my second day of football widowhood. My grand plan is to sweep the floor. I really know how to treat myself right. Later, I hope to visit with Wikus and his super-fast racing bed (seriously, he got a bed with wheels, and there better be a racing stripe and flame decals). The bed is also a couch. It’s like he’s all grown-up now. Maybe I can convince him to watch an episode of Make It or Break It. Did I mention that Candace Cameron is on it, and the show has strong Christian themes, which makes it the trifecta of awesomeness (teens, sports and heavy-handed religion)? Cameron is lecturing the gymnast about how the special bond between a man and a woman, for the Bible tells her so. Don’t worry, she practices what she preaches—she’s a woman, and she is abstinent because she is actually very interested in sex. It’s okay, I just puked in my hand, too.
Health update: I finally stopped bleeding during sex two weeks ago. Hooray! However, now my right ovary is angry, and thinks it is being menaced during intercourse. And yes, my hair is still falling out. Other than that, I am just lovely in all ways. Well, I do have some hangnails, but look, my house isn’t on fire. That’s something.
**Blog title courtesy of Wikus. He should probably just write his own blog already since he is infinitely more interesting.
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