cold feet

02-04-00

Did I mention that I learned how to intubate a dog? Such a thing may come in handy one day.

Everyone's gone this week, gone down to Biloxi until next Thursday. They all bitched and complained about it for days. Yank yank. You're going to a resort town filled with casinos, and you're getting paid for it. Oh, poor you, have to play a concert or two while you're there? Aww.

While they're gone I get to watch the kids. Yay. Rob's cats, Anna's guinea pigs, and Becky's cats and pig. It takes me a while to do it; I watch TV at everybody's houses while I pet the kids. I'm sure a daily hour of attention from Aunt Betsy doesn't make up for a week of Mom or Dad being gone, but it's about all I can do. I'd love to bring everybody over to my house for the week, but I can just imagine how six cats and three guinea pigs would get along in a one-bedroom apartment. But wouldn't it be nice to have that many cats cuddle up in bed? I'd love that. I love having my cats in bed with me. Maybe Julie does hog the bed and pin down the covers. Maybe Fleck does lick my nose, or crawl under the sheet and lick my ankles. I love it.

Don't tell Fleck, but I'm the teensiest bit tired of the nose-licking. He's teething, and his breath smells yucky. He also likes to bite stuff. Huh huh. Bite this. His boundless energy is creeping me out. When will he calm down? He's into everything. Right now he's crawling on the desk, nosing into every cubbyhole because he knows the cat treats that Dan sent him for Christmas are hidden around here somewhere. At night, between the time I've gone to bed and the time I get to sleep, I can hear papers, books, candles, stuffed animals, and the other paraphernalia of our lives systematically hitting the floor. Fleck is tireless.

Anna has the coolest new home for her pigs. Petey and Patch live in one of those turtle-shaped kiddie swimming pools, right in the middle of the living room floor. Anna left me some thank-you brownies. Spoiled my dinner, she did.

I'm getting a facial! Isn't that horribly feminine? I feel like I should shave my legs and paint my nails to prepare for it. Lately I've been paying attention to the tension in my face, and the condition of my skin. I have good skin, a little on the dry side this time of year. I'd like to keep it in good condition.

Blah, all this is just covering up for wanting the facial. I want the facial! And I made an appointment for "The Ultimate Facial—one full hour of personal attention!" It includes deep cleansing and exfoliating and a shoulder, neck, and upper back massage, and hand and foot conditioning, and all sorts of things. I'm actually nervous. My hands and feet are in bad shape—after those yucky work boots, I have callouses and blisters. I bite my fingernails and cuticles, so my hands look like hell. I won't even mention my unshaven legs. And I don't wear makeup, and I don't overstyle my hair, and I don't use expensive creams and masques and face-washer-doer-thingies. Gee, maybe while I'm being all girly and pampered, we can talk about how I didn't change my last name.

Dammit. Now I'm not going. Bleh.