Cats and Boobs

Mom has taken to waiting until Andrew is out and then coming in to talk to me. Well, she says she wants to talk to the cats, and before I know it the cats are being told how my brother is screwing up now, or getting a litany of things my father has done lately. At least she tells them they're cute. Anyway, now, apparently, my brother feels that by buying him a house Mom and Dad pushed him out. Bentley's answer was to roll on his back and try to look cuter. Puck just glared at her for interrupting his nap. Puck is officially a teenager, I guess. He has the glare down pat. He could out glare a whole lunchroom of seventh graders. I'm starting to realize that it's a good thing I'm married, otherwise I'd surely be edging into crazy catlady territory.
In other news, I've decided to the Boobie-Thon this year. I forget why I didn't last year, but I'm doing it now! Yay boobs! And double yay for keeping boobs cancer free! Stupid cancer. My maternal grandmother survived her breast cancer (but not her diabetes), but I lost a paternal aunt to it. Breast cancer is a topic near and dear to my own boobs. I'm debating trying to put together a donation thing, like if I hit a certain ammount I'll shave my head. Or maybe I'll put two up, donate for me to keep my hair or donate to see me shave it, and then whichever ammount is higher will be the winning option. I think my mom will be donating to see me shave it, though she might throw a couple of bucks at not in the end. We'll see. My biggest concern about shaving my head is how much I know I will look like my brother. Everything else I can deal with. Well, possibly not the big red circle birthmark I have on the back of my head, which my brother also has, because the last thing a bald girl needs is a target.

School Supplies, yay!

Okay so the lowdown... I applied to grad school and the program of my choice. I got into the program, the school? Not so much. But I figured this would happen, so no biggie, I just went through the appeals process. There was, however, much freaking out, as school starts on Monday. So this morning I called the dean's office, and the secretary said the letter had been signed and mailed out, and she was pretty sure I had been approved. Woo! So I called the grad studies office, and they confirmed this, so I basically spent today running around trying to get my stuff together and get registered. And now I am. Unfortunately, even though I'm not the only one who wants to do it, and even though the professor says it's okay and he'll do the extra work to make us do the extra work, I'm not going to be able to use the undergrad (though 4000 lvl) scriptwriting class for my grad work. Boo. So I had to find another class. Currently I'm looking at a fiction writing workshop, Form and Theory in Creative Non-Fiction, and a Gender and Literature course that is specifically looking at the Gothic novel. (Specifically the feminine aesthetic of terror as compared to the masculine aesthetic of horror. Heh.) I'm eligible for an assistantship, but considering the fact that I am on probation, I decided not to apply. I want to really get my grad school bearings before I take that on. So, you know... next year.
In other news... not much has happened. My mom's cat, Mac, passed away. I felt so bad. He had an infection and just couldn't shake it off. At least we tried everything we could. So now my two truly are the spoiled brats of the house. And spoiled they really are. Bentley is still trying to figure out how doors work. The other night he was running around, and hopped up on the bed and burrowed under the covers until he was curled up by my feet. Perfect hiding place! And then he sneezed, and, realizing his cover had been blown, took off running again. Puck has been pretty lovey, lately. He still wants to go outside, but that just ain't going to happen.
For now I am off to make potato salad and cut up veggies for the veggie plate for tomorrow. We're having a big back to school party for my cousins' kids. I expect to end the day well fed, slightly sunburned, and totally wiped out from having fun. After all, that is why I moved back home.

So much to do, so little interest in doing it...

I'm so bored. And Andrew isn't awake yet. I ought to be doing something productive, but here I am writing on LJ and listening to Puck be very concerned about something, though I have no idea what. And it's not the usual sit in one place and whine at the ceiling thing, he is wandering around whining, and looking at me every few minutes to make sure that I am noticing him trying desperately to tell me something.
I need to go clean out the pantry. I really ought to go clean out the pantry. I threw out a bottle of salad dressing that expired in 2003, and it's not like it had been shoved to the back of the shelf, no it was right up front in plain view. I was hoping to put it on my salad. Okay... lunch and then with the pantry cleaning. If you never hear from me again, assume I have been bludgeoned to death by the sentient can of peas that Puck was trying to warn me about.

so Tired

I'm tired. I don't know why. And I want to be creative right now and do some writing, but I ought to go to bed. And just who does this brain think is running this party anyways?
I have this great scene in my head for my novel, but I haven't set it to paper, yet. I know I ought to, just because. But I feel reluctant. I keep making excuses for my writing. And I suck! Ok, I know that's not -entirely- true. I just read Neverwhere by Gaiman. I shouldn't read when I'm trying to be a writer. It only makes me feel like crap. I know I won't measure up.

Jared and I walked into Schultzman's Department Store. It's an old place, the kind you associate with shopping trips with your grandmother, but they're realizing that grandmothers don't have the cash anymore, the granddaughters do, so they're trying to appeal to the demographic one step below me. The totally off putting thing about them doing this is that they don't want to offend the grandmothers. So there are some really hip clothes next to some clothes that are trying to be hip next to clothes you wear if you're the sort who fears breaking your hip. Did I mention the muzac? Oh, I will. I will.
Another little oddity about Schultzman's is the fact that they have a greeter. I don't think they call them greeters, but that's what they are. They are old people who have memorized the store layout and have the singular purpose in life to point you where you need to go, in case you've forgotten where things are in the store in which you presumably shop at a lot.
As we walked in the greeter got up off of his stool and amped up his smile for us.
"Welcome to Schultzman's. How can I make you happy today?"
Oh man. I had forgotten about that. I could see Jared's face light up. I stammered and tried to pull Jared away, but it was too late.
I later learned it took them 20 minutes to get the old guy to stop crying.


Wow, I did it. I've had that scene floating in my head long before I started writing this novel. In fact, that scene is why I started writing this novel. I feel better now that it's ... uhm on paper, so to speak. I know it needs tightening, but I don't care. I wrote it and that's good enough for me at this point. I also noticed something, just now. This Haley, the one narrating, is not the same Haley I've been writing. I guess I need to kickstart her into being her own. And now I think I really go to bed. But first I need to find my eye drops, cause goddammit I've got some itchy eyes right now.

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Teehehehehehe.... I want several of these creatures! Verra' fun and goofy.
Played with the kitten a bunch this morning. He's nearly ripped all the feathers out of his thing on a string toy. Oh well, luckily we can buy a replacement thingy to attatch to the pole bit instead of having to buy the whole thing over again. yay!