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What a …

… suck day Saturday was.

It all started with a relatively sleepless night, so that when I woke up and finally realized that I was, in fact, panicking, I had nothing left in the tank to deal with the aforementioned panic. Cue the frantic call to the husband (hereafter referred to as “K”). After ranting at him for a few minutes in full meltdown, I calmed. Sanity returned. I got in the car. Pushed the start button. Opened the garage and then drove with Brother Sal’s “Cotton” playing on loop all the way to the Vegas strip.

More about the song later.

The day was almost completely as expected except my client was very cool, which always helps because yelling just makes me want to hide all the more. Loud noises scare me. Yelling, doubly so. So, gear was missing. Incorrect pieces were sent. There was a rat’s nest of cable, and I was sent The. Wrong. Computer.

Sigh.

Here’s the thing about me – perhaps I shouldn’t admit this in a public forum – but I always assume everyone knows more than I do. I don’t know where I picked that up, but if I could time travel and give my younger self a bit of advice it would be to shake that off right away. There’s a reason I received a Bachelor’s degree at eighteen and it’s certainly not because I’m dumb as a brick.

I also rarely stand up for myself. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I did. I didn’t stand up for myself on Saturday. (Although the client did, I found out. He’s my new favorite.) I knew what the problem was, but I still spent hours on the phone, troubleshooting. The problem was the computer but I couldn’t seem to get anyone to believe me.

It took having the guy who replaced me two years ago when I walked away from the glamor of live production coming to my location after a full day of his own – and having him say, essentially, “This computer doesn’t work.”

Double sigh.

In the end, it all worked out. I made everyone happy today by bringing in my gluten free peanut butter cookies. And despite having to box surf due to a rigging line having jumped a sheave, my truck was the first one off the dock. That’s never happened. The component I work with is always the last out of the building. Not so today and I was so happy about it that I nearly danced down the hallway after returning my badge to security. Leaving before everyone else, after years of being the one shutting off the lights, felt really good.

So. That’s where I’ve been. Feline Friday languished last week, but I’ll watch the kitties closely for antics this week. At thirteen and fourteen years old, Ember and Inkblot sleep a lot. As cats do. Oh – almost forgot! Ember was featured on Katzenworld’s TRT (Tummy Rub Tuesday) – for the second week!

She’s a star!

Also also, the song by Brother Sal – I don’t know what it’s about. I haven’t looked up the lyrics. I really hope it’s not offensive to anyone, and because of who the musical tip came from, I doubt it is. But the song has a great sound, and that’s what I listen to. There are influences of rock, blues, jazz, and even gospel. It’s got a happy, upbeat melody and you can definitely dance to it.

Right now…

… I am probably on my way back from southern California, if I’m not already home. (Full disclosure: I wrote this post yesterday)

Today, (or yesterday) I’m going to talk about my husband. As it is February, I think this is appropriate. His birthday is this month. Mine is also this month. And then there’s Valentine’s Day which we usually don’t celebrate, but sometimes we do.

On Friday I was spending day three on the couch after a nasty little bugger of a cold crept up and jumped me from behind. It was a very productive time, actually, I finally watched the BBC production of “Pride and Prejudice” as well as season two of “Mr. Selfridge.”

My husband had had a very busy few days. We’d both made it through a taxing show at one of the many casino-resorts in Vegas, but once the show was done, I was done. My husband, though, is never done. He went from a ten pm finish to a five am office call. He worked late again. Went in early the next day, then didn’t get home until 3:30 am – just in time to pack for a six am flight to southern California. It was about 8:30 when I got the text from him that said “I forgot pants,” so, I express mailed his pants. Heh. It was about four when we were texting back and forth and something he said made me ask “Do you want me to come down there?” He texted back a simple “Yes.” After confirming that he was, in fact, serious, I dropped everything I was doing (laundry, but lots of it) contacted the kitty sitter and got in the car.

The drive between Vegas and LA is something I’ve done so many times that I could almost do it in my sleep. This is a good thing because it was a Friday night meaning the stream of traffic Northbound was near constant. It was raining and it was dark. With the opposing traffic’s headlights in my eyes there were times the road in front of me would completely disappear. I would appreciate it if the California Department of Transportation would get right on fixing the markings on their highways, stat.

When I finally made it to Anaheim, tired, worn out, still feeling the effects of my cold from somewhere near Hell, I found the husband who was on hour … um… I need more fingers to figure out how many hours he’d been running already… and finally discovered what he wanted me there for. That’s right. I hadn’t asked. It could’ve been to work. It could’ve been for moral support.

It was strangely heartwarming to discover that my independent, does his own laundry, husband wanted me there for moral support. And to feed him. He has a fairly serious allergy to wheat. With the recent explosion of ‘gluten-free’ as a fad diet it can be difficult to find people who take it seriously. It can also be difficult to find truly safe gluten free options as a person who travels for work. Of course, that recent explosion is also the reason I can walk into most restaurants, say ‘gluten free’, and not get a look that says I must be speaking a foreign language.

So, I spent three days in a comfortable Anaheim hotel room. I went to the grocery store and worked on finding safe food for the husband. I walked around the neighborhood at night taking photos like this one:

Dancing fountain
Dancing fountain

I went to Christ Cathedral – formerly known as the Crystal Cathedral – and took pictures of other things. For instance, their truly-lovely-despite-the-dire-California-drought grass:

Emerald green and lush as can be.
Emerald green and lush as can be.

And this very interesting wall with a beautiful contrast of light and shadow – lit by light reflected off the cathedral:

Just outside the bathrooms...
Just outside the bathrooms…

Finally, I’ll leave you with this one. What do you think it is?

These are some of my favorite types of photos - the ones that make you look closer and wonder...
These are some of my favorite types of photos – the ones that make you look closer and wonder…

The phone…

… rang as I was driving out of a parking garage the other day.

I pulled into a handy space and answered thinking it was someone from work.

Nope. It was my dermatologist.

“We have your allergy blood test results.” the caller says. I’ve been waiting to discover the result because I’d like to stop itching this century. “Your food battery was clear, so that’s good.” She continued.

“Environmental…” she pauses as if she’s reading down the list, “Cats, or really, Cat Dander and Common Ragweed.”

I kind of nodded my head even though she couldn’t see me, choked out a “Thanks for calling,” and immediately burst into tears.

Me. Allergic to cats.

How ironic.

I love my cats. They’re my buds. They watch TV with me. They sleep with me. Sometimes, they eat with me. They sit in my lap while I work from home. They’re my companions and I love them.

I don’t know what the solution is just yet, but I won’t let them go no matter how much Inkblot tries to make me think she abhors my company while she sits on the couch with me, then follows me to my desk, then follows me upstairs – always at a distance that would make it difficult for me to touch her. And Ember? Sheesh, I came home the other day after a night away and she came running down the stairs letting out a joyous “Meow!” every time she came down another step.

Shots? I’ll do it. Benadryl every day? No problem. Re-homing my cats? Nope.

So, not to worry faithful fans of Ember’s antics. My furry Feline Friday inspirations aren’t going anywhere.

New words…

… are exciting.

I learned a new word this week. It’s not a word I remember having seen before and then, suddenly, I saw it twice in one week.

Odd.

When I reveal this word, I’m sure some of you are going to tell me that you spell it in your Alpha-Bits cereal every morning. That’s great. I’m very proud of you.

The first place I saw this word was in a romance novel. A what? Yes, you heard me right, a romance novel. Those much maligned books that some bookstores won’t even carry because “our readers don’t read trash.” The particular book in which I read this word was “Dream Lake” by Lisa Kleypas. She’s good. Like, really good. I want to be Lisa Kleypas when I grow up.

The second place I read this word? A statement made by Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor.

Yeah, I have a wide set of interests, so when I see a word that I don’t recognize, I get excited and look it up.

So. The word. (Finally)

Evince – (From the New Oxford American Dictionary) verb – 1. reveal the presence of 2. be evidence of; indicate

 

 

The acquisition…

… of cat food requires a venture outside of the comfy confines of my house.

I try not to leave the house for just one thing which is probably a nod to my kid-hood. Growing up in the middle of nowhere meant that once a week we went to “town” (aka, Richmond) to buy groceries and whatever sundry items we might need to survive for another week in the sticks. I seem to remember always wanting shoes. Fortunately for my closet, I got over that particular stereotype early in life. I suppose it could be argued that I have a lot of shoes now, but this post isn’t about shoes.

This post is about this:

I'm sure there are about 15 bazillion calories in this thing. That's okay. It's really cold here - for Vegas - so I'm shivering constantly.
I’m sure there are about 15 bazillion calories in this thing. That’s okay. It’s really cold here – for Vegas – so I’m shivering constantly.

A Nutella Mousse Bombe from the Chocolate and Spice Bakery in Las Vegas, Nevada.

I did not leave the house with the intention of going to the bakery. I left the house with the intention of going to the vet to pick up kitty food, then going by the grocery for a strong decongestant, with a swing by Discount Beads to look at the pretty baubles and possibly buy a metric ton of jump rings.

There was time to kill between the vet and the bead store as Discount Beads doesn’t open until 10AM. So, there it was, Chocolate and Spice Bakery with a single sunbeam shining down upon it. The scene was very biblical.

As an aside I think it is ironic that in the same complex there is some sort of an exercise-y gym location as well as a group of life coach/personal trainers. If I had to choose between the gym and this?

I did get it home before I ate the whole thing. Also, the pointy teeth marks are from the fork. I am not Gollum.
I did get it home before I ate the whole thing. Also, the pointy teeth marks are from the fork. I am not Gollum.

Well, those who know me will understand that the gym never stood a chance.

Funny thing about bakeries, you never know what is good and what is mass produced junk that came from (insert least favorite big box store here). I’m 99.9% sure this was not mass produced. It is entirely possible the ingredients were all handcrafted by master artisans before being combined into this perfection.

One would expect this to be a sugar bomb, and it probably is, but what I could taste was high quality chocolate. Not so much Nutella, but for me, that’s okay. I usually find Nutella to be too sweet – I have been known to grind my own hazelnuts and make homemade Nutella. It’s not as smooth, and it is definitely less sweet.

The cake was moist and chocolatey. The enrobing chocolate could have been peeled off and eaten alone if you like to deconstruct your food. When I’m exploring something new – or eating sushi rolls – I like to pull things apart into their component parts. For new things it is to experience each bit – for sushi it is because the rolls are too big and I end up choking…

I did move on from the bakery to Discount Beads – where they did not have a metric ton of jump rings available (They do, however, have an astounding selection of everything else – including Swarovski crystals). I want to make this little guy and carry him around on my shoulder because I need just one more notch of weird to make people run away from me.

Chocolate and Spice Bakery, 7293 W Sahara Ave Las Vegas, NV. 89117

Discount Beads, 4266 South Durango Dr., #G, Las Vegas, Nevada 89147