A Fashion Nightmare

Ah, Friday.  Friday was supposed to be my day to do my social thing.  I was going into Arlington to deliver our guest cat back to Wine Friend, and I'd also checked with a few friends about maybe meeting up for the local First Friday after.  And, the boys were going out for an evening without me!  I was going to have a fabulous evening!

Ha!

My hair was all adorable and curly.  I actually put on a cute top and skinny jeans, and planned to wear hawt high heel boots.  Pretty earrings, light makeup... well, except for the eyes.  I did dramatic smoky eyes, in purple.  Hey, I was getting off the farm!

But, before I could escape the farm, I had to do less glamorous things.  I had to pick up the Boy from school.  I had to take Katt to the vet to get her nails clipped, and get more of her anti-vomit medicine.  And then I needed to pick up two big bags of the water-softener salt.  Muck boots were worn for those errands, and I only got two smears of dirt on my jeans.  I wiped them off, and thought, in an hour, I'll be heading east.

And then my cell phone rang.  I have a cool phone now (sorry, crackberry), and I told it to answer.  It was the Husband.  A hawk had been at the chickens, and he couldn't find any of them now.  It was already 3:30.

I got us safely home, let Katt inside, and the three of us began the search, taking Amy with us.  We walked through the woods and fields, searching for the freaked out chickens.  Eventually, we found Elasta-Girl and Peaches-and-Cream in a tree.  We lifted them out, and they were carried home.  Then we found Darth Vader, hiding in another tree.  Her tail feathers had been ripped out, and we found more sign of lost feathers there.  Had we lost a girl or not?

We continued stalking the trees, but it was getting later, and the boys had movie tickets for 5:30.  I told them to go on, that I would keep searching.

And I did.  I contacted my chicken friend, and got a few suggestions.  In the meantime, I took a break so I could prepare for the evening.  Emptying the litterbox, gathering all the cat's toys and the remaining food.  And, of course, making sure her cat carrier was ready.  And, since the driveway was still icy, I dragged the garden cart to the front of the house, so I could haul all everything up the hill.

I did another chicken search.  I let Wine Friend know I was running late, and let the other friends know that my time schedule was shot.  Texting while walking through the woods is hazardous, however.  I got caught by a low hanging branch and got a pretty good scratch across my forehead.  I exchanged the phone for a bowl of chicken feed to shake as I walked, and still managed to run into tree branches.  I was grateful it was winter, at least-- no spiderwebs or need for my web-wand.

Leia had shown up by then.  Ginger, Acid and Mocha were still missing.  But Mocha darted toward me just after the sun went down.  I took her home and conceded defeat, hoping that one or both would return in the morning, assuming they survived the night.*

By then, it was almost six!  I had to get out of there.  I was running so late!  I grabbed the kitty and my purse, put on the boots by the door, and wheeled the cart up the ice.  It was heavy, and I took off my coat again because I was starting to, ahem, glow.

Let's fast forward, shall we? I delivered the cat, and Wine Friend took me out to dinner, since I was shaking from hunger.  (I'd planned to eat something after the guys left and before I needed to leave, but that didn't happen, obviously.)  We went to a nice wine bar, and I ate a lovely meal and drank lovely wine.  I visited the lady's room.

Oh, and what a sight I beheld.  I might have been okay if I had freshened my powder and lipstick, although the smokey eyes were more smudged than anything.  And truthfully, the scratch across my forehead would have taken a bit of concealer or something.  My cute curls were in a ragged mess.  There were bits of twig in them!  I had smears of what I hoped was only dirt along my collar bone.  Never mind that I had mud on my jeans.

And I'd put on my riding boots, and not the high heels.  The boots that had been cute when I got them, but then had become my field boots, not to be confused with the muck boots.  These only had mud and a few scratches, and I am almost certain, no chicken bombs.  That I cannot say for the muck boots.

But yeah, the best laid plans of the City Kitty were pooped on by the chickens.  And I wasn't sure which I was more embarrassed by: being late because of the chickens, or looking awful because of the chickens.

*For those of you who could care less about the fashion nightmare, then rest assured, Ginger was there in the morning.  But Acid, the bottom of the pecking order, has gone to the great hawk in the sky.

Happy New Year!

I hope everyone had a lovely time the last few weeks.  I'm surprised at all the inquiries about whether or not Cthulhu had actually driven me insane, since I'd gone silent.  Rest assured, Devoted Readers, I was simply taking my own Christmas vacation.  (Or, if I may be honest, I had the Boy home for two weeks and there was simply no posting anything other than lame Facebook statuses.)  I continued working, however.  This blog entry has been simmering for almost a week.  So...

Happy New Year

or 

You Can Take the City Kitty Out of the Country But You Can't Take the Country Out of the City Kitty

College Friend was going to be in town after Christmas through New Year's Day.  The last few years, we've been seeing in the New Year with Wine Friend and/or going to the old neighborhood, but this seemed like an opportunity to go into the District and do a grown up party.

I won't go into all the nail biting, the back-and-forth discussions, the endless texts and frequent phone calls, making child-care and animal-care arrangements, the wardrobe anxiety, and transportation issues.  Let it suffice to say that we planned, and it all worked out beautifully.  The Husband and I got to go stay at a very nice hotel and attend a kick-@ss party in Washington DC with our friends.

I will also gloss over are the preparations to leave that day:  herding the chickens back into the coop; cleaning out the cab of the truck so that I could cram in our luggage, Amy, and the Boy; and even the dilemma of switching cars so that our wee-little Saturn wasn't spending the night at the commuter lot.

No, the real story is what happens when City Kitty enters a nice hotel after 5 months of living on a farm.

First of all.  Mud on my sneakers and the car when I pull up.  Oops.  I could see the too-polite-to-say anything look on the doorman's face.  The Husband had already checked in, so he met me in the lobby, handed me the key, and I got directions for the parking garage, which was full of nice, expensive, big, and CLEAN vehicles.  I wondered if there was a car-wash entrance that I'd missed.

Now, it was a cold day, but remember, I layer every day just to stay in the farmhouse, which has the thermostat set at 62, but varies depending on what side of the house you are on.  So, I was hauling luggage and had my big sheep-skin duster over my arm.  I was a bit warm.  I found the elevator and then the room.  I walked in and unloaded, smiling as I looked around.  Nice room, cool view, and four hours before we had to leave.

And I realized I was hot.  As in, is-my-antiperspirant-actually-working? hot.  I pulled off my sweater.  And then the flannel lined jeans.  The top long-sleeved shirt.  The silk shirt under that.  My socks.

Him: Is this a hint?
Me: I'm burning up!
Him: Ah.
Me: What is the thermostat set at? I'm dying!
By now, I was down to my tank top and leggings. The Husband looks at the thermostat and chokes a little.
Me: So what is it?
Him: Sixty-eight.
Me: Well, set it lower!

Sparkly Silver Sandal

We finished unpacking, and I needed to paint my toe-nails.  I painted, let it dry, and we got ready to go down to grab a bite to eat.  I had to wear my sparkly silver sandals, so that the nail polish wouldn't smear.  Except, all I had were the flannel jeans.  Not a fashion-do, lemme tell you.

After we got back to the room, it was time to start getting ready.  Shower and all.  I turned on the hot water all the way up and waited the usual four minutes to make sure the water had time to get hot.

Four minutes.

I was amazed to pull back the curtain and get hit with a blast of hot steam, and step onto an uncomfortably warm shower floor.  (shaking head)

I finished with all my primping and dressing.  I looked amazing.  (I really did, the Husband said so.)  But, there was a snag.  The original plan was for us to get picked up in a car by our friends.  That wasn't happening.  So, they were metro-ing in, and the Husband wanted to know if I was up for that.

My first thought was for my new sparkly silver sandals, and how they wouldn't really keep my feet warm.  So, I thought, just wear your other shoes until you get to the party, just like you normally do when you leave the farm...

College Friend!

Sneakers, under a fancy evening gown.  Beat up sneakers with mud caked in the treads.  Sneakers that would not give me the extra three inches required for me not to step on my dress.

The Husband!

We took a cab.  Party party party.

We got back to the room at a respectable 1:15 a.m.  We got ready for bed.  And then we both lay there, wondering why the hell we couldn't get to sleep.

We were hot.  The room was set at the extravagant 65 degrees.  We usually sleep with the thermostat set at 55 degrees.  

We set the thermostat down again.

It was surprisingly nice to get out of that too-warm hotel with its too-clean floors and the hot water that scalds you when you test it to see if its gotten warm, and get back to the farm.

Oh the humanity...what in the world has happened to me?

Katt and the Other Kitty

Everyone in the house has been sick except for the dog.  The Husband and the Boy have colds.  I am suffering from allergies exacerbated by the chicken house construction (why oh why didn't I wear a mask when moving all that dirt?).  The Husband is also still suffering from throwing out his back when we were finishing the chicken coop.  And Katt is not well from something we don't understand yet.  And my girlfriend's dog had to have emergency spleen surgery.  Okay, her dog doesn't live here, but it sure seems as though sickness is everywhere.

Lemme tell you about illness in the country.  There is no quick five minutes to the doctor's office when you live out in B.F.E.  It is more like twenty minutes.  Not terrible, but think about last time you were suffering from a cold.  You think, yeah, I can manage to get myself to the doctor's office without killing anyone.  You don't have that option in the country--you have to be well enough to dodge the suicidal deer and raccoons  (Why are there so many raccoons running across the road?!?)  and not turn off the side of the road when you sneeze 8 times in a row.  Or, think about when you go to the doctor and they give you a prescription for a hard-core nasal spray to combat the allergies that have been making your ears pop for two weeks and leaving you gagging from the amount of mucus dripping down your throat.  What do you do when the pharmacy says it'll be an hour?  Do you drive twenty minutes home to wait for twenty minutes and then drive the twenty minutes back?  No.  You spend an hour wandering through the drugstore and packing a shopping cart with all sorts of shit that you never knew you needed because you cannot remember the things you actually might need.

Do I sound a little cranky?  That is to be expected.  Don't get me started on what happens if the Husband's back pain gets so bad that I wonder about whether or not I can get him to the hospital if need be, and remember that there is a narrow twisty staircase to navigate just to get him to the main level.  And wow, if I called an ambulance?  What are they gonna do?  Cut a hole in the building and lower the stretcher out by crane?  The crane that could not possibly get down the gravel driveway without hitting about seventy trees?

And then there is Katt.  Katt was a fairly tough country kitty when we got here.  In the last two weeks, she has suddenly had a personality switch.  She is affectionate, and demanding attention, and always underfoot.  And she paces.  All.The.Time.  She's still eating and drinking.  But her foot slides every once in awhile.  And, unlike most cats, she keeps being underfoot, actually under our feet.  So, I think, I ought to take her to the vet.  OOOO!  Another twenty minute drive over gravel roads with a displeased cat bouncing around the backseat as I attempt to miss the worst of the potholes.  And then the vet thinks that maybe Katt had a stroke, or brain trauma, and that she ought to have blood work and a few other tests done.  Poor Katt.  At least she can still chase Amy when she want to.  But she's no longer the Katt I've grown to enjoy.

I am desperately trying to remember what the City Kitty used to do, other than drive a lot less.  I am haunted by the pretty party clothes and gorgeous and impractical footwear that catch my eye in the closet.  My new ring will likely collect dust with all the other bright and sparkly baubles that go unworn as I miss art shows, spontaneous dinners out, or even hanging out with friends at my favorite bar. 

Going into the bigger town, where I used to live, is about a thirty minute drive with traffic, but mostly on paved roads at least.  But going in to teach a lesson or go to an appointment or visit Costco is suddenly like an outing.  I dress up as much as I can justify.  I add earrings and try new eye makeup. I accessorize with cute scarves and try to remember to change purses so they actually match my outfit.  But, I mentioned driving on gravel and dirt roads?  Your car gets dirty.  Like crazy dirty.  And then you brush up against it as you get out of the car and get a white smear on your clean pretty dress.  Real cute.

You probably wonder if this rant is going anywhere.  It is.

I miss city life.  I feel like Katt, whose personality is changing to fit her new physical limitations.  She cannot see as well, so she stays at home and cuddles with the warm people.  I am throwing myself into making that chicken coop, and baking pizza crust from scratch since no one delivers out here.  I spent all day yesterday in the kitchen, making homemade chicken soup for the boys and canning the last of my peppers, before making that pizza crust.  But I am raging against the change in me.

I recently went to a party that I overdressed for-- I had to carry my high heels into the car so they wouldn't sink into the gravel and mud.  And I bought that crazy town ring.  It is bigger than my thumb.  And I never wear rings.  (Where am I gonna wear it?  To open the chicken coop door?)  Last night, after all day in the kitchen, I decided to go into town at the last minute, so I could sit at a bar and look pretty, and then watch a movie in a climate controlled, bug-free environment.

I am clearly having some adjustment issues.  I ought to learn from Katt's example, but the City Kitty is not as adaptable as Katt is.  I get frustrated and should go for a walk, and commune with nature and appreciate what is around me.  Instead, I dress up and flee into town.

I'll be in town tomorrow.  And I am looking forward to it.

(This clearly isn't over.)

Hello... or, Howdy! (An Introduction)

I have always lived in the city.  Well, at least suburbia.  Towns.  Small cities.

This summer, it looks as though I will be living on a 10 acre farm in the country.  I'll have a tractor, chickens, a garden as big as I choose to make it, and a pond!  Maybe a sheep!

There will also be ticks and spiders and stinkbugs.  And mice.  Possums.  Deer.  Maybe even some otters!

Now, I love my high heels, my cute hats, and fancy purses.  But, I also love hiking and gardening, and I already have a dog!  So, I'm ready for this.  Right?

Right?

What is that chirping sound?  Birds?  Cicadas?  Crickets?  A chipmunk?

Well, at least this will be entertaining for my readers.  I'll take pictures, and describe what I am learning, and how I am surviving, and any other thing that will demonstrate my ability to laugh at myself.  Someone will learn something, and I suspect it will be me.

The move will be sometime in August.  Until then, posts may be sporadic.