One for the Lady

All this talk about human stuff and we've barely touched on a whole third of this household: Lady. It's been a pretty big year for her already...she doubled her roaming/stalking real estate, lost two teeth, celebrated a fourth birthday, and has been diagnosed with a disease contracted from living the trife life. Much to her chagrin, this disease calls for strawberry flavoured meds—the morons who made this stuff only made a formula for children which doesn't go over well with the feline crowd. She chose to starve rather than eat her strawberry infused beef bowl—who wouldn't? We had to resort to shooting the medicine into her mouth from a syringe. This happens in the split second that we can keep her mouth open while trying to keep her head straight and stop her from wiggling out of the straight-jacket-like blanket we wrap her up in. Cats are slippery creatures so some of the meds invariably end up on her face, appearing as though she has applied lipstick. This is an endless source of humour and almost makes medicine time one of the highlights of the day!

Medieval Life Crisis

Damn.
I'm already 30.
I still live in my home fief.
I can't stand my liege lord. This isn't how I thought my life would turn out. I'm not the serf I thought I would be.

I don't care what Gwendolyn says. I'm buying a catapult.

New year, new apartment!

Okay, so neither the year nor the apartment is all that new, but blogging about stuff months after it happened is just how we do things around here. We've had a couple months to evaluate our move to the predominantly Polish neighbourhood of Greenpoint, Brooklyn, or PoHo (as coined by Thomas) and the verdict is: We love it! Harlem will always have a place in our hearts, but heck, what's not to love about having more than one room, not being on the 5th floor of a walk up, and enjoying a corner suite facing a park full of drunks? Not to mention the space has done wonders for Lady's disposition, she doesn't attack us nearly as much since we got here. She's even taken up the guitar!

Leap Day: The Gift that Keeps on Leaping

I'm not big into astrology and I don't pay much attention to solstices or equinoxes. True, I experimented with Crocs, but I've never owned a pair of Birkenstocks. Nevertheless, I would like to acknowledge the celestial event that passed a few days ago. Falling once every four years, like an election or the olympics but without the bumper stickers or steroids, it came and went with hardly any fanfare yet it could very well be the most rewarding holiday of them all.

Leap Day is like the duct tape of calendar events. Without being pretty, it holds things together so they'll keep working another four years. We need this extra day in February every four years to keep our calendar accurate. Leap Day is like the butter knife wedged under the table leg.

To me, the extra day is a reward for three years of hard work. A bonus at the end of a tough winter month that lets us catch our breath before charging ahead into all that March brings. Rent... Spring... the sudden Irishness of friends you could have sworn were Italian. Deadlines are one day farther away. Bus passes last a bit longer. And our landlords pace the hallways, forced to wait yet another day. Work can get intense here in New York, and when you're under the gun it's nice to remind yourself that "at least it's not tomorrow yet". And this year we can thank Leap Day for the extra breathing room.

So I hope some of you celebrated Leap Day last weekend. It even fell on a Friday, party-day all the world over. I was right out there, celebrating, partying... I think I had risotto. I hope some of you partied it up, too. I hope the monthly transit users sat a little higher in their pleather seats. I'm sure somewhere (probably Seattle) there was a bonfire with Wiccan chanting. And while that's a step farther than my Crocs will take me, I applaud your priorities. This year's Leap Day may have passed, but it's not too late to celebrate. Let's welcome this little red-headed step-holiday back into our calendars.