Spooning BoyTalk Texts

Him: Btw I just realized, Friday I think I was the small spoon to Bentley's big spoon.

Me: Omg you totally were. Well we know who alpha is in that relationship.

Him: Seriously. Damn.

Weekend Instagramming

Laborious Day

My labor day was...mildly laborious.

It started off with another epic day of sleeping in, I guess making up for you know...fourteen days straight of drinking. I'm pretty sure that happened. Yeah, my body has needed some rest. So I've given my self some selftime, good old-fashioned lazing. I mean, it's the end of my vacation.

Tomorrow it's back to...work.

But santosha, right? I'm going to try to be content. Not bitch and moan about goddamnIdon'twanttogoback.

No.

I'm half cleaning, half lazing. Enjoying the final, rapidly diminishing moments of my freedom.

And you know.

Cuddling with my cat.

Per usual.

This Morning's Lead Story

*tap tap*

Is this thing on?

WHY HELLO.

I'm back.

In California. In my bed. In my life.

HAVE YOU BEEN WAITING?

Good morning, and welcome to Freak Out In Color. It's been a long time, folks.

Coming at you this weekend: posts. Lots of them, I hope. I'm going to try to get back into my groove. I want to ride the high of a great vacation, and a final hurrah of gluttony. I want to rekindle all the passion and drive I've lost. I want. I NEED. I will.

You know all this.

Sit tight. It's Labor Day Weekend, and I've got nothing to do but prep for September, go to yoga, and post for you bitches.

Look who's happy to see me.

Loverboy

It's been awhile since Mr. Tree was appropriately featured on the blog, don't you think?

Of course, he was thrilled with our visitor last night. You know Bentley loves the boys, he was all over his jock within minutes, I kid you not. To my suitor's credit, he nuzzled and loved on the kitty, clearly aware that doing so was the price to get the same from me.

But come on, it wasn't too tough for him, I'm sure. Lookattheface.

If nothing else...

...does it officially make you a cat lady to be out buying cat litter at 8 AM?

Especially when I make Bentley do this, minus the shirt?

I wish he'd let me put him in a shirt.

Happy Birthday B!

Today is the 14th birthday of my dear, dear, Mr. Tree!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BENTLEY!

Let's take a look back at the changes over the last near decade and a half...

HE WAS SO BITTY!

Of course, he got dressed up for the occasion. 

Isn't he handsome?!

And of course, a story for you. Because no Bentley post is completely without a story of his outright bitchiness.

I got home from work yesterday and was going to quickly change into comfy clothes before my therapy appointment. I walked into my hallway to find my jeans, well...decorated with cat puke. The jeans I was going to wear on my date tonight. The date that takes me away from Bentley on his birthday.

Clearly, he has an opinions about this.

I'm sorry, Tree! I'm such a bad mother.

I WILL GIVE YOU ALL THE BIRTHDAY SNUGGLES WHEN I GET HOME!

You handsome devil.

Meowther's Day

Okay, that pun was awful.

I'm sorry.

But hey, Happy Mother's Day! If you are a mother, or you have a mother. Or you like mothers. I hope you're having a good day, full of love, cards, and food. Isn't that what these commercialized holidays are all about?

My mama flew away to Italy on Friday, because she's fancy like that. Which means, alas, I will be without our daily phone calls for two whole weeks. I kind of don't know what I'm going to do with myself.

I may be a little co-dependent.

Anyway, the only Mother's Day celebrating I'll be doing is with my Mr. Tree, who sent me this oh so sweet card last week:

Funny, the handwriting looks kind of like my mom's.

Rings on a Tree

Obviously, you only come here for updates about cats, and weight.

So why not one about cats AND weight?!

Bentley had gained half a pound between Monday and Tuesday, so I had to take him back to the vet today for a weigh-in (Tree's on Weight Watchers!), and a general check-up to see if he still needed more fluids or anything to help ease his poor suffering. Luckily his weight was back down and he seemed to be doing fine.

Tonight will be his first night without anti-nausea meds in his system, so I will keep a close watch to make sure he eats and doesn't, you know...puke.

Did you know his birthday is at the end of this month?

MY BABY IS GOING TO BE FOURTEEN!

Let's count the rings on this Tree!

"There's no need for a piece of sculpture in a home that has a cat." - Wesley Bates 

Tree Climbing

I believe we have my Bentley on the mend.

I was sent home from our second visit today with ten days of antibiotics, more pain meds, appetite stimulants, and new food. He ate some wet food today, the first in awhile, and definitely has more energy, though he isn't back to his normal sassy self. Still in pain but his meds are helping and he can jump on and off things now, so all good news!

We're cuddled up on the bed together and he wants to be pressed up against me as much as he can. A few whimpers, but definitely purrs too.

I think he appreciates me taking care of him.

Purrtown City

My Tree seems to be on the upswing this morning. At least, his pain meds have kicked in, and he's no longer making his sad little whimpering sounds, and he purrs when I pet him instead of wincing, and he's up on the bed with me instead of hiding in a corner.

And he seems a bit stoned.

GOOD MORNING, MOMMY.

Round Two of Tree Care

Well, it's not a cold. 

I went home to check on my Bentley at lunch, delicious gravy-filled wet food in hand to tempt him with, and found him right where I'd left him, and with evidence of vomit on my rug.

I tried to get him to eat, putting food on my finger and lifting it to his mouth, and he just made the saddest little whimpering sounds. Translation: "Mama, I don't feel good."

Or maybe: "Please take me to the bad place. I want the drugs."

"Okay, baby. It's vet time," I replied.

It's probably the pancreatitis again, though it's not for sure. More tests will come back tomorrow, and I will be taking him back to the vet, and probably staying home from work to keep an eye on him if he doesn't start eating or improve just a little bit. He's in so much pain, you guys. Sad, pathetic little whimpers, even doped up as he is.

I...I feel.

I HAVE FEELINGS.

I can only express my emotions in gifs.

Sick and Tired

I have been worried the last couple of days. I haven't said anything because I wasn't sure,but it's not that bad. He's been spending time in his box, acting sick, and now I know what's wrong.

Tree has a kitty cold. He is sniffling and sneezing and snorting all over the place. It would almost be cute if it wasn't so pathetic and sad.

Okay, maybe it's a little cute. Adorable. But mostly pathetic.

He got snot all over my comforter. And this is why I haven't gotten a new one yet.

He said no pictures.

But he is not the only one feeling a little off. Me? Well I was really hungover, and I am tired. 

I really didn't intend to be hungover. Well, I guess no one ever intends to be hungover, but when I woke up I just felt like absolute shit, and I really couldn't figure out why. I hadn't had that much to drink, although it had been all sugary...margaritas, and ill-advised Fanta.

And then someone reminded me, that around 2 or 3 in the morning, just before bed, the birthday girl stomped her feed and demanded birthday tequila shots. Her poor husband looked so broken and forlorn, begged not to, but I took mine willingly, and yet I was the one who was dead this morning. 

Luckily, all I had to do was eat pizza, watch a movie, go have lunch with my parents (salad), come home, lay in bed, be lazy, and my hangover went away.

Life is good. 

But not for poor Tree.

Night and Day

Tree

Dark. Mysterious. Trapped.

Deuce and Annie Boo

Happy. Sunny. Free.

Assortment of thoughts.

1) I ordered takeout on Friday night from my fave spot and my receipt had "VIP customer" on it. They certainly know how to keep my business.

2) I just feel so much better about myself when I take the time to beautify. On Saturday, I just felt more...me. It doesn't really take that much effort, I need to just do it, Nike style.

3) I think I want to do a cleanse before yoga teacher training. I know everyone has different opinions about cleanses, and Queen Goop Gwyneth Paltrow's endorsement makes me not want to give them any of my money, but the Clean cleanse did really wonderful things for me a few years ago and I think I want to do it again.

4) I used this cat age calculator, and apparently my Bentley is just shy of 73 years old. Old cranky man. Always staring at me.

5) I have another seeeeecret. This one I'm just going to tell you right away, though. I've been keeping it from you long enough. Are you ready? ARE YOU READY? Okay.

I'm getting a tattoo next weekend with my Biff and my Buff.

OH YEAH.

The idea came to us a few weeks ago, to all get foot tattoos together, and it just seems oh so right. The Biff and I are matching, the Buff is getting a quote. Never fear, I'll show you pictures and explain the tat when I get it, but you'll have to wait.

A preview: has to do with yoga (duh). Not the om symbol, though.

I am so very excited, and I WANT IT NOW.

Poses

Tree says he has not been on the blog nearly enough recently, and this must be rectified.

My Cat The Hipster

In the continued Tales of Mr. Tree, I'd love to tell you about his complete and utter disinterest with anything I spend money on for him.

Food? Of course. He'll eat food, treats, all that. Gladly. He's a fatty eater, like his mama. Can't help ourselves.

Litter. Yes.

But everything else, he could not give one single fuck about.

In the course of his near-fourteen years of life, I have spent many dollars trying to make him happy. Too many, perhaps, if you're not a cat person. I JUST WANT HIM TO FEEL LOVED. But he never appreciates it. He'll perhaps show a passing interest in the things I buy for him, sniff sniff, bat bat, but ultimately he never likes anything, and what he really prefers are the free things, the "up-cycled", TRASH, if you will.

My cat is a hipster.

For example, toys. I have bought him mice, and catnip stuffed leafs, and little bears, crinkly balls and sproingy stands and chirping bird toys 'cause he freaking LOVES BIRDS and anything his furry heart could possibly desire.

You know what he likes?

The plastic wrappers off of things. Lids. The ties of my sweatshirt. Wrapping paper. Paper that was wrapped around a candle I bought. Paper, generally.

And beds! There was one bed he liked, a bed that used to belong to a dog. Can you imagine? He should have been ashamed. But other than that, no, the cat refuses to like a bed I bring home. I can try to make a new bed smell right, let it acclimate, but no. He has no interest.

But when I went on my mad drug-fueled cleaning spree a few months back, I left one single box in my kitchen, next to my desk. My mom asked about it when I had my parents to dinner and I explained that Bentley likes to sit in it when I'm cooking.

That stupid damn cat. SO picky. Only likes the recycled crap.

Hipster.

Plotting My Weekend

This is my first weekend back in LA since the very first weekend in March. That's craaazy.

Bentley is so very happy to have me here, so snuggly, plotting just which body parts he wants to lay on in what order.

And as much as I'm tempted to spend these two days entirely with him, lying in bed, lazing and lounging and laughing and doing many other thing that start with the letter "L", I am going to try to be part of the world.

Le Schedule Du Jour:

*Lounge
*Lunch at Literati (Still with those "L"s!)
*Yoga
*Grocery store
*Target?
*Lounge

Tomorrow...

*Target, if I don't go today.
*Maaaybe a hike, but definitely some sort of Explore LA event.
*And the rest of the time...Bentley time.

As a wise man once said, after all...

Hidden and Not-So-Hidden Talents

I'm very talented.

I'm sure you know this.

These talents include:

• Sneezing five times in a row on a regular basis.
• Putting both feet behind my head.
• Rationalizing anything.
• Making everything messy the second I walk into a room.
• Drinking insane amounts of Diet Coke without vomiting. 
• Collecting obscene amounts of Diet Coke cans on my bedside table with no shame.
• Knowing exactly how much alcohol to pour into one of my water glasses and still leave enough room to add a whole can of Diet Coke and fill the thing just to the brim, no bubbles. NO BUBBLES.
• Talking forever.
• Writing about anything, ramble-style. I can string words together, this much is true.
• Decorating. I get it from my mother, but I have to say, my apartment is pretty pretty.
• Speed-cleaning.
• Lying.
• Rapping.
• Pretending like I'm listening, then figuring out what was said.
• Actually being a good listener, and giving advice.
• Doing thoughtful things.
• Being kind. 
• Being a bitch.
• Loving on my kitty.

Dinner Party For Four

Last night, I had a friend and her boyfriend (who I'd say I could now call a friend on his own) over for a home-cooked meal and some catching up.

But that was really just a pretense. 

First things first. Nicknames. 

This friend was my Facebook wife for five years, so I could call her The Wife, but that seems so unoriginal, and untrue, since she dumped me last summer for this boyfriend of hers. TEARS. Ex-Wife? She did live abroad in Spain for three years, so that's a wealth of inspiration there...Besos. Yes, I shall call her Besos.

As for the boyfriend, he is the one who made us the delicious and authentic Puerto Rican sangria, so the Puerto Rican seems reasonable. PR.

So anyway, I invited Besos and the PR over for dinner, but really, Bentley invited them over. He put on his bow-tie and everything. See, he is quite sick of this whole "celibacy" thing I'm doing and goddamnit HE WANTED A MAN TO SNUGGLE.

And snuggle he did.

Plus, Besos was always his most favorite of my friends in high school in college, in fact there was one inebriated night during which she claims they "exchanged souls", so overall, Tree had just about the best night of his life.

I made my standard guest fare, parmesan crusted chicken with balsamic roasted veggie and feta salad with another batch of the brie and apple crescent rolls. I tried a few with poppyseeds, which were pretty delicious too! I also substituted agave, as my Besos is not a fan of honey. Still tasty but I prefer the honey.

Food, wine, friends, so much cat hair everywhere it was ridiculous---definitely a successful evening.