seventhe: trowasfacewhen.com (Trowa: OH NO)
So today has hit some small pros and our first major con, so i'll get that out of the way first: even though the kids are taking splendidly to the litterbox, Mama Rosa for absolute definite sure is not litter-trained. She has been very polite about it, albeit rather weird -- most cats don't want their business near their food, while Mama has, uh, used whatever I have under the food both times -- so while i get to manage these terrible little twits, i also get to litter-train mom. woo. done it before, yeah, but was really hoping mum would take a hint from kids. especially as i'm changing their litter over to a non-clumping natural litter, because babies lick tons of it off their feet when learning how to poo and i'd rather not have one of my darlings need an emergency run from blockage. tiiiiiime to line that side of the room with newspaper so i can use it to t r a i n.

some good moments from the day: apparently all 4 kids have decided that Big Mom is the greatest thing in the world to climb on and romp on. I'm covered in tiny little claw scratches - today, we introduced the concept of claw-clipping - but i CAN say that Potato sat on my shoulders for a good deal of the morning. I open the door and get flooded by tiny bodies fighting over who reins the magical Land of Lap. i finally got mama enough food that she isn't scarfing down everything she gets (this will, unfortunately, be a fact of life days i'm near work, until i can convince her that dry food is in fact tasty and will be okay to nom). Mama comes out to greet me and purrs when i pet her.

i am desperately in love with all 5 of them, and i already know that this separation is going to be really, really hard. i've fallen for two of them already, hard, but today the other two really worked on my heart, and of course a not-so-secret part of me is hoping Mama shapes up to be a merge-able friend to my existing family -- but as always i keep telling myself that fostering is to make other families happy and that taking a foster needs to remain a last-resort option in my back pocket for true emergency situations. my cousin today asked about them on facebook and i think my heart broke thinking of not being able to keep them.

i had low-key anxiety all day; i woke up exhausted, 3 hours of sleep according to my Fitbit, had a dr appt this morning, just a "check up" which ended up being generally useless AFTER being late because the power was out in the entire area, so i was later than expected to work and never pulled myself out of the hole; the latter half of my day was full of anxiety that someone would shock themselves or swallow too much litter or make it out the door of god knows what, and i couldn't get home fast enough ALTHOUGH i HAD to stop for more supplies to keep this crowd going.

also not helping the fact is that i'm still crying about Marzy - around every 2-3 days, something will strike me, and i am suddenly Not Okay again in tears on the floor. (i've built a tiny - shrine makes me sound crazy; it's a little memorial area, with the three cards from his vets (that made me cry again) and his ashes and the bit of fur they saved for me and some flowers and an offering bowl of water, of course, with a hairband in it, because he was an asshole.) these cats are in no way a replacement for him, but it's like a double-whammy-gone-bad: i feel like i'm desperately trying to plug something in the hole, except it's more obvious now that nothing is ever going to fill that hole and all i can do is wait for time to smooth out the jagged edges.

i'm starting to realize that this isn't all about the loss of a piece of my heart, and that it's more about the desperate cry for help of someone who's at the end of her rope and has been for a while and is compiling issues on issues because she has the emotional range of a tree stump



ANYWAY, let me see if i can upload some photos, and you all can meet the kittens, enough with this sobbing ass bullshit
seventhe: (Cats: I LIKE THEM)
So with the help of [personal profile] drakonlily and [personal profile] crankyoldman and some other friends, we have collectively rescued a mama cat and five babies from the wilds of a porch in Columbus. One of the babies was adopted out; the other 4 came to live with me until they are old enough to leave mama.

Mama is 1-2 years and incredibly smol. The 4 babies are around 3-4 weeks old. I know it's gonna go quickly, so I'm gonna keep a record here of what we do each day that's cute and noteworthy. I've been up there maybe 6-7 times today, making sure mama has enough food, making sure everyone is adjusting. Here are today's benchmarks:

- all the kids run to greet me when I come in the room, with tiny squeaks
- I had four amazed and confused kittens breathlessly watching me scoop their poops
- mama realized she could get away from the kittens by jumping on the bed; she then proceeded to take a half-hour breather-nap while I babysat
- for the first time since they've been here, mama lay down by me and let them nurse. I've never been able to actually watch a mama and litter nursing from that close and for that long before. The purring as the kittens feed reaches incredible volumes, and mom alternated between dozing and giving me this worn-upon look that's the cat equivalent of rolling eyes. I was just surprised and impressed that in the short time she's been here she came to trust me enough to feed the kids less than a foot from me. <333333


Tomorrow we start clipping kitty claws, and introduce some new toys. As for tonight, I'm curled up on the couch (where I've been sleeping bc my bed is covered in stuff, but that's another story) with my cats on and near me, and we're off to bed. They aren't mad yet, just a bit needy and kind of resigned.


Obviously pics will be coming -- it's hard to get great shots in that room, but I'll manage. :3
seventhe: (chocobo: hey bb)
i've been doing research for a while but ever since this idea grabbed me last weekend i've been doing RESEARCH, and i mean research not like once i did research for a paper, but research both as "someone who once for many years worked in the research field and whose livelihood depended on researching and finding things and drawing them together" and "wow something i am interested in that isn't being hit in the head by a pipe wrench". this is a new obsession - probably because it's a novelty, so there's a chance it won't last - but at least i am diving in with a bit of (if limited by my own shitfaced depressive reality) enthusiasm.

i realize this really isn't the approach anyone wants -- approaching a religion, or spirituality, should be taken seriously; yet I'm finding that I'm That Guy who's gonna walk into a church and be all like, "so I'm gonna take a couple weeks and kinda fuck around with Jesus, dat cool?" I hope I mean no disrespect but I automatically know I am disrespectful as fuck - look, I was born a Dragomire, and we are utterly irreverent shits; we are the team that would push the red button just because we were told not to. So I am trying to approach this in a sense of -- healthy fun, maybe?; I want to give it its due, but I also need to have some dialogue before we jump in the sack, right?

anyway the way this entry is going is that to say, i've actually found some good words in this search to describe what Marzy was in my life and why this particular hole is so fuckin painful, upsetting, uprooted - if i view my life through this particular lens, it's pretty obvious what Marzy was, and even in a scientific / electromagnetic sense, it makes perfect sense.

Marzy was my grounding line. He was my grounding ritual; he was my neutral to ground; he was the thing which, after a long day of static and bullshit and awful, i could take and touch and hold and feel, and he would take all of the negativity and all of the buildup and just wash it away, down into the ground, until all that was left was belly and purr and sweet, sweet neutrality.

Marzy was my ground point and no wonder with him gone I've felt imbalanced and unstable.


fuck man. i was saying it was silly to be so upset about a cat, but in this context - where he was part of a physical ritual bringing me back to myself - i've lost my goddamn grounding wire, i think i have an excuse for building up a fuckin charge over here.
seventhe: (Laguna: wayward son)

I am here to write an entry about much-less-important things, but I can't open it without dedicating a few words and a space of silence to the victims from yesterday. I am wishing them peace. I am wishing you peace.


So I started here wanting to write about clothes / fashion / appearance, which seems like such a frivolous post opened with such a somber thought, but hey, I am a complex individual and I came here with thoughts in my brain that are going down no matter what.

Any discussion on clothing, fashion, appearance, etc. lives on the edges of a bunch of critical serious issues, too -- appearance, gender, body image, marketing, consumerism, health, so on -- and I have many words to give on those, but for right now, this is not that post.

a sense of style )

interim

Mar. 25th, 2013 07:53 am
seventhe: (Ondore: he lies)
It's that weird overlap time where you are moving and you know you are moving, but you haven't yet; the place you're in now becomes less home by default, just a feeling, but there's nothing yet to take its place. For a Taurus like me - grounded by the places I feel safe - this is a very strange and uncomfortable feeling.

I'm working on making the place feel like my home in my head though, so that once I get there, I will feel settled. Took the cats and had a sleepover party on Friday (Marzy had an absolute blast; Porter was pretty terrified and spent the first ~15min hiding under the laundry tub, but eventually warmed up to it. Rydia, showing once again that she truly is my familiar, somehow felt out which room was the master bedroom and spent most of her time lounging under my window); spent all yesterday afternoon putting up a first coat of paint in Becky's room. Going to spend time this week taking vacation from work to paint the other bedrooms, tear up the master BD carpet, fix a leaky sink etc.

I'm calling it the Feymarch. Although it also goes by Castle Gaylord (which is actually a more fitting name when you realize what an absolute dork I am for interior decorating. My dining room is going to be straight out of fucking Rivendell, you may all defriend me immediately.), but the Feymarch is fitting for a place that feels like it's out in the middle of nowhere.

Hard to believe I'm going to be living there in less than a month. When in the absolute fuck am I going to pack?

My moods are still, honestly, all over the goddamn place. I'm excited about it, but then I reach a point where I'm preemptively overwhelmed and just don't want to think about it - and then I start bouncing off all the other angles: I want credit for doing something this awesome all by myself; I don't want anybody else knowing or talking or helping because this is mine; I want to have a million parties; I want to be there alone forever. I swear my depression-brain is a manic depressive these days. I could deal with it when it was straightforward depression brain. I seriously don't know how to operate with manic depressive headbees.

But it's mine. If you're an address person and you'd like my new address, fire me an email -- I'd love to get some cute moving-in mail. :D
seventhe: (Default)
I am sitting in the waiting room of Lab Corp right now waiting for my blood draw (with bonus peeing test). I haven't eaten breakfast. I haven't had coffee. These are both cardinal sins in SevLand. It has been an expensive and depressing week for health in SevLand. (edit: I was interrupted for the test and am now happily seated at my desk with coffee post-breakfast.)

Yesterday I took Marzy in for his echocardiogram checkup. His heart murmur has gotten no better; while it's still better than it was at his very first visit (when he wasn't on any drugs or anything), it's worse than his last checkup. The obstruction in his heart is getting worse and the walls of his heart are thickening (from overwork), and while they were examining him they did see one fully stopped beat, which means he is at the maximum dose of atenolol he can be on. The thickening and the obstruction are so bad that they're starting to worry about heart failure and blood clots -- although he is still asymptomatic at home, which is still a good sign amidst all the bad news.

They've put him on another drug, one that will help prevent blood clots. There's a small chance that this new drug will act synergistically with his current dose to improve the murmur - it isn't a proven thing with the drug, but they've seen it happen in a few cases, so it is worth trying. It's an additional $10-14/month I guess (more expensive for humans but apparently I get a break because cats?) and he has to go back in 6 months for another echo.

I was pretty upset yesterday. I cried in the car on the way to giant eagle to get his new drugs, and then accidentally a diet coke from the store while I was waiting and cleaned myself up in the bathroom. My poor little baby and his little broken heart. He is so lucky that I found him and kept him, because i am a crazy cat lady who will pay $$$ to take care of him, and probably no one would have even found it until it was too late. Asshole. I love my cats more than I have loved anything ever and I hate it.

Plus I've got all these medical bills coming in (X-rays haven't shown up yet, but just refilled my inhaler, I look, $120) and physical therapy coming up and I may not be doing a whole lot of anything come September because dollars.

Bodies. Why.
seventhe: (Rydia: calls the monsters)
There are two preludes to this story:

(1) So Rydia still fights with the boys occasionally; this is worse at the townhouse, because with all of us - and Becky - there, space is pretty limited, meaning Rydia doesn't have a very good "safe haven" she can run to when she just doesn't want to be bothered with their bullshittery. They get along fine most of the time; it's really just when one gets in her all up in her space (it's usually Marzy), or when sometimes they (read: Marzy) interpret her as playful, and try to bat at her tail or boop her nose. She'll howl and hiss and sometimes swat. Depending on how they reply, it can continue, although usually they get the message and leave her alone.

It isn't anything bad, although I don't like when it happens. It's just a feline assertion of boundaries. Rydia is made of cranky cat hate, anyway.

(Side note: how come I can't just hiss and swat when somebody comes into my space and bothers me? KIA SOUL I AM LOOKING AT YOU)

(2) There's a pack of stray cats that live out by the dumpster. I saw them for the first time a couple months ago: there's a little wild patch of brush and bushes and stuff leading into the woods behind the dumpster, and they chill in there. There's a mom and at least 3? 4? kittens, mostly black and grey, and some of them are fluffos; the kittens are not kittens, they're at least ~6 months old, but they still follow the mum like a pack. They seem pretty feral; they looked curious about me, but certainly didn't want to come out of the wild brush and investigate.

So last night about 4:30 I was awakened by the howl-snarl-hiss of Rydia and Marzy getting into it. Gee, thanks, cats. I rolled over. But it didn't stop: suddenly there was just howling, that low warbling mournful-angry-painful deep howl that cats do. By the time I had gathered my poor sleep-stiff brains together I'd realized that it probably wasn't Rydia, because it sounded like it was coming from outside (I have my window open pretty much forever). I went to the window. It sure sounded like a very unhappy cat. Now I'm picturing a cat run over by a car or something awful. So I got out of bed and went downstairs - subtly checking to make sure it wasn't any of my cats - and then slipped outside.

Right in front of the neighbor's townhouse are two of the ferals: the black one and another one that was hiding under a car that I couldn't see. Neither one would approach me, although they kind of sat and stared. They'd at least stopped howling - maybe one was a lady in heat; maybe I'd interrupted cat sex - and eventually kind of slunk off, which made me feel better because hopefully neither one was injured.

So I have a new goal now. My goal is to befriend the dumpster kittens... enough that I can take them in to get them all fixed. I'll pay, I don't mind (although I'll take donations!), and I'm pretty sure they're feral enough that they won't want to live with people anyway - they can go right back to the dumpster. I just hadn't really thought about it until last night, but I want to make sure they're taken care of, so that there aren't suddenly 40 dumpster kittens next spring.

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