Rambles

I can't find the patience to sit down and write an in-depth blog, so this little post may be all over the board.

First, regarding le chat. No firm decision yet, but I think we're going to take him. I've convinced the Italian with a three-pronged offense: 1. He gets to name the cat (poor thing); 2. The cat gets declawed; and 3. We won't take him until he is house-broken. My mom is keeping him for now because she doesn't work, and the cat is just too little to be left alone alone all day. He needs monitored feeding and he's not fully litter box trained, which we just can't have. The little guy eats litter. Oh, god, what have I gotten myself into?

Second, I'm kind of sad my mom won't take him for her own. As much I want want the little orange fluffball, my mom is all by herself and has been for a while now. She's had death after death hit her hard. First was my dad five years ago, then a close family friend who she relied on after my dad died, then her cat of 19 years. She just doesn't have it in her to get attached to another living thing, which is so pitifully sad and defeatest I can't even properly articulate my feelings about the matter. She's given up on life, and I've run out of ways to help her or encouraging words to say. I'm exhausted on that front, and feel like a bad daughter into the bargain.

Third, I'm really sad about this beach house fire in Ocean Isle, North Carolina. If you live in the US, you've probably read about it. Thirteen college students were staying at a beach house for a weekend of fun, a fire broke out and over half of them died. When I was in college, a fraternity house on my campus burned to the ground and killed six or so kids. One of them was a sorority sister of mine. This fire brings back such vivid memories, as the circumstances, time of day, and survivor recounts are so similar to what happened at UNC while I was there. Ugh, it just makes me shudder. I so remember that charred out frat house that just sat there for months, a blackened reminder of how fleeting and cruel life can be.

Fourth, and I'm totally switching gears here, I feel like I'm getting fat. I swear my butt has grown this week. Is it the Nutella is bought? Could it be the taqueria food I had last night? I need to stop eating out.

Fifth, we're ending our "month-long festival of travel" this weekened with a trip to Hilton Head for a wedding. One of my best friends (we'll call her Design Goddess as she is a fabulous graphic designer) is finally getting married to her boyfriend of eight years, and I'm so happy for her. I really never thought this would happen. Design Goddess did so much to help me when I married the Italian, more than any of my family. I'm excited to go down on Wednesday night to help her in any way I can, though I can never repay her for all the things she did for me.

Sixth, the Italian's college friend, who we'll call Fuckface, is still a fuckface. We saw him two weeks ago and Dave encouraged me to have an open mind. "Fuckface has changed," the Italian said, "he's got a fiance now, and she has a daughter he's taking care of, and he's really changed." I called bullshit, and - dare I say it - I was RIGHT. R-I-G-H-T. His fiance is awesome, he still sucks. As a small bit of background, this dude has screwed up the mind of every girl he's ever dated. I personally know two girls he's made certifiably insane, one of them being my bestest friend in the whole wide world, who we'll call Big-Eyed Randy Moss Fan (weird name, but trust me, it makes sense).

Anyway, so while together a couple of weekend's ago, all of the Italian's college buddies started talking about doing a Vegas trip with the guys and all wives. Everyone was on board. Then, after we all returned home, Fuckface sent an email out to the guys, saying something along the lines of "I've been to Vegas with my fiance, and it sucked. She was over my shoulder the whole time, freaking out about money and how late we were staying out. Wouldn't everything be more fun if it was just guys?" Now, I'm not opposed to a guy's weekend here and there, they just did one last month in Key West. I do girl's weekends with my friends. But, this trip was decided on as a couple's thing, and now he wants to switch up the plans because he wants to relive his college-boy days. Also, I think I'm offended because, when it comes to Vegas, I'm pretty much a dude. I don't want to shop (okay, a little but not much), I don't want to spend hours eating at some over-priced restaurant or standing in line for some chi-chi look-at-me club. I want to gamble. Period. Fuckface hasn't changed, he doesn't respect women or relationships, and he never will.

Seventh, and lastly (thank god!), I'm on a jewelry bender. I make jewelry, and it's not something I talk about a lot. I'm kind of sensitive because I'm not sure my stuff is any good. I secretly want to make a business out of it, but I'm scared no one would buy my stuff. I've never thought of myself as a creative person, and so I'm surprised when I sit down to do jewelry and get so into it that three hours have passed. Nothing else in my life distracts me to the extent that I forget about time, my neuroses, or the size of my ass. Well, maybe writing, but that's about it. Writing and jewelry maker... can I craft a career out of that?