I don’t miss him in the “oh, I love him so much, I wish we could get back together” way. (For the record, I do love him, but I have no wish for us to get back together)

I miss the way he knew me. The way only someone you are in a relationship with can know you. Someone who sees you day after day. Someone you can’t hide from because you share a 700 square foot condo with them.

People don’t understand. Most people don’t feel about their pets the way I do. Michael, for seven years, saw me with The Gray. He fully understands how huge she was in my life. When I told him, I could hear him crying, but trying to hold it back for me. Despite everything, he always knew how to take care of me. He had infinite patience for me. Had.

I feel lonely in a way that friendships can’t fix. Siblings can’t fix it either. Those relationships aren’t the same; they can’t be the same.

I miss The Gray. I miss Michael. I miss things that can never be mine again and I have no idea what I am supposed to do about it.

I have no idea what to do.

*Title from The Cure for Pain by Jon Foreman

Her favorite place to sit

Did you ever wonder why I named my blog “Gray?”? When I lived with my dad, The Gray would run into a room while making a tinkling little chirp. After awhile, whenever we said “Gray?” someone would imitate that sound. I still do that now (much to my friend’s embarrassment). I am not 100% sure why I settled on that for a blog name. Probably because it always made me smile.

Today I had to put down my best friend of 15+ years. Stormi Witch Renfro is what I named her, but she ended up being known as “The Gray”. She has been with me through all the hardest parts of my life. I got her when I had just started high school, so you know that’s true. Together we moved to Connecticut, then Seattle (by way of Minnesota for her) and 4 different homes once we got there. To be honest, I am happy she won’t have to suffer through another move since she hated moving almost as much as me.

It’s funny how similar to me she is. She is the perfect example of pets looking like their owner or vice versa. We didn’t look the same, per se (I think we had similar eyes), but our personalities were a spot on match. Hard, tough exterior, but a ball of love to the right person.

I loved that cat. Loved, loved loved. I am a crazy cat lady. My world revolves around the cats. The furniture in the house is arranged to the cats. My life and when I am supposed to be home each night is based on them eating. I have not gone on trips with friends because it would be too hard on my cats. And I am fine with that. The may be “bad” and lazy, but they give me so much happiness.

I knew this day was going to come. In fact, I knew yesterday that something wasn’t right and this may be it. And it was peaceful. And I got to hold her. And she actually felt calm (vs. how she normally acts at the vet). And I know deep down I made the right choice.

I always forget that the right choice, so often, doesn’t feel very good.

_________________________________________________________

One time, during the time we were remodeling, my alarm went off, as usual, and, as usual, Gray came and snuggled right into the crook of my arm for morning love. I pet her and kissed her (and almost fell back asleep). When I finally got up and went into the bathroom, I saw that my lips were completely black.I touched them and some of the black came off on my fingertips. I started freaking out. How in the hell were my lips black? I was fucking sleeping. So, I make Michael get up to exam me.

He does and is just as perplexed as I am. He gets a wet cloth and washes it off. He asks how I am feeling. Fine. We are puzzled. Finally, I get in the shower because, what else am I going to do?

As I am getting dressed, Gray comes over and wants to play. I start to wrastle with her and soon realize the palm of my hand is black. I pick her up and Michael and I exam her. Now the black is coming from her. Once again, no idea what is going on or why. I have to get to work, so Michael agrees to bathe her.

Later that evening, I get home, still baffled by the black stuff. Landon comes over for love right away, but Gray is no where to be found. Thinking she is still mad about her morning bath, I look for her in all her warm spots. Not there. As I am wont to do, I begin to panic. I have no idea where she is. I begin to call her, begging her to come out.

Suddenly, I hear some movement. It sounds like metal clanging against itself. I look over just in time to see The Gray crawling out of the wood stove. Apparently, that was her new hangout. Since we were still remodeling, we hadn’t gotten to cleaning out the stove yet. So, all the black was soot.

Yeah. That’s how the Gray cat rolled.

Of course, mommy? Mommy made her take another bath.

_________________________________________________________

1. I hate this blog. It’s SO boring and depressing
2. In the last few months I have started writing over 15 posts and can’t ever seem to finish them
3. I used to write things that I found funny. Actually, I used to write things that made me (if no one else) literally Laugh! out loud.
4. Why am I such a sad lou now?
5. What now?

I can’t really solve all those things. It is what it is. The last 2 years have been pretty hard on me. The blog reflects that. I don’t want to not have a blog. I have met some of the best people in the world because of it. I am not ready to hang it up quite yet.

But I do want to tell funny stories. I don’t know why I stopped. Some of it has to do with Twitter. When I post something funny on Twitter, I kind of feel like it’s redundant to elaborate any further on the subject. It’s not like I have millions of Twitter followers and millions of blog readers. It’s basically the same people. I am pretty sure they have enough of my repeating the same shit over and over (save for my sister, or Heidi).

However, I really need to just get over it, because, when I look back at my blog, I don’t want to think “What is with this whiny girl?!” I really want to think “You, my dear, are hhhiiiiiilllllaaaarrrriiiooouussss”

So, with that in mind, here is the story of the fire alarm, that I regaled my sister with today:

I have been reading some good books lately, so I have been FORCED to go to bed later, thus, forfeiting my beauty sleep. Last night was no exception. I was [finally] blissfully asleep when, at about 3:30 AMish, our fire alarm in the bedroom beeped a few times. It wasn’t the annoying, short beep that says “Change my battery! Now! Or I will drive you insane! Don’t test me!”, no this beep was the beep it makes when it smells smoke (and by smoke, I mean the person who lit up a cigarette. In Boston. It’s one sensitive bitch. “Kiki? Kiki-kins? Who’s smoking? I smell smoke. Is someone smoking within a six mile radius of where I’m standing! Stop them Kiki, stop them!” I digress).

I go into “Fire mode”. My sister makes fun of me because last time we were faced with a fire situation, I checked my door before touching the handle. Because I graduated 5th grade. Once again, I put my fire skills to use, but alas, nothing. After about 10 minutes, Michael and I decided it was an anomaly and went back to bed. Not more than 40 minutes later it beeped a few more times.

This time, I remembered that the smoke detector we bought for the bedroom was also a CO detector. Read: we were all going to die. I made Michael go find the manual (yes, I keep every manual that comes through my door), while I started crying. Like, hysterically. In my defense, it was 4 AM. I told Michael that it was OK if we died, but that I just didn’t want The Grays to die. (Although, let’s be serious, who would put up with their shit if we were gone?) Michael comes back to tell me that it makes a different noise if it’s CO, so we will live after all. Of course, I don’t believe him and I make him prove it. Which he does. Know-it-all.

We, once again, go back to bed. And sure enough, about an hour later, the beep goes off. This time, I just roll over as I mumble to Michael to take care of it. He does, by taking the batteries out.

Of course, less than a [restless] hour later, I have to get up and get ready for work. By that I mean, I slept later than I should and didn’t wash my hair or wear make-up. I am HOT today. As I was getting ready to leave the house, Michael was still sleeping. I went over to kiss him, like I normally do, and I whispered to him

“I hope you don’t die from CO poisoning. If you do, that means you will have killed The Grays and I will have to bring you back to life so I can kill you again”

I am the most loving girlfriend of all time.

Now, you might think it’s because I have control issues. You know, how I just think everyone should do what I think they should do when I think they should do it? No . . . not that.

Maybe it’s because of all the issues I am having with my brother. Yeah, that has caused a lot of depression, problems in my relationships and pretty much I am going through the stages of grief. No . . . not that.

Ed thinks I need to start seeing a psychiatrist so I can prepare myself for the fact that, one day, The Gray might die (that’s right, I said might). It’s pretty much an accepted fact that if anything ever happens to that cat, I will have to be institutionalized. Ed thinks it would help if I started preparing for it now.

Last week, The Gray and I were wrastlin’ (that’s how we play) and I immediately noticed something was off. I looked in her mouth and low and behold, her 2 big, bottom teeth were gone. She would have HAD to lost them sometime that prior week, because we wrastle all the time and I notice those fuckers when she bites me (always play bites-she is a very good wrastler). I freaked the fuck out.

I called Michael, almost inconsolable, to tell him what happened. He made a vet appointment. Which was good, cause she was due for her Old Lady Cat check-up next month anyway. We took her in last Saturday. We came prepared with fresh poo (do you know how hard it is to get the right fresh poo when you have 3 cats?) and The Gray also had to give up urine and blood. It was great day for the poor Gray.

The Vet told us they would have to do X-Rays to find out if the teeth fell out or if they broke off (meaning, they have to see if the root is still in the gums). It’s very strange that both of her big teeth were gone at once and it could have happened if she hit her mouth (like when, sometimes, she tries to jump to the other counter and she misses). He teeth are extremely healthy for a cat her age (because her favorite food is Dental Diet-no joke, she goes crazy for this food. She’s eaten since she was a youngin’), but they still wanted to do a cleaning with the X-Rays. X-Rays, cleaning and Old Lady Cat tests? Over $1,000. I would give up all my shoes to pay for it (although, thankfully, I have to do no such thing).

Yesterday, the vet called to give me her test results. Her blood cells are normal, her thyroid is normal, she doesn’t have a heart worm and she is VERY healthy considering her age (the Vet’s words, not mine. I consider The Gray spry and youthful). HOWEVER, there is a slight concern regarding her kidneys. Her creatinine was at 1.7 and 1.6 is the high-end of things. Her BUN (blood urea nitrogen) was at 38 and 36 is the high end.

Did you know kidney disease is the leading source of death for cats?

The vet said that their first step is to look at the cat’s mouth and that whatever is going on with her teeth could be what is making her levels slightly elevated. She said that we are already planning on doing the first step in getting those down, so that’s good. After her teeth are cleaned (next Thursday), we’ll do another kidney test to see where her levels are at and go from there.

That still doesn’t make me feel that great. I have has The Gray since I was 15. Every big life milestone, she has been there for. I don’t work without her.

Which is why my brother thinks I need to go see a psychiatrist.

Eventually I will get my shit together and do the Vacation video. I’m only one person OK? Get off my back.

It was a looooooooooong boring weekend. Well, wait, I DID have lunch with Tim and Jeff. We went to The Cheesecake Factory (sadly, Dustin wasn’t at work) and had a very delicious meal. I also cleaned and then 3 hours later, had nothing else to do. Now, technically, I DID have some stuff to do, like work on my website, but that seemed like WAY more work than I could get involved in.

It wasn’t that long ago that I thought living alone was awesome. You can sleep in your whole bed, eat ice cream for dinner and drink until you pass out on a school night (without judgment). Somewhere along the way, I guess I decided that I actually LIKE living with Michael. Sure, he makes a mess in the sick and I hate folding his underwear, but all in all, he makes me sane. Who knew?

Time is dragging between now and May 15th. I just need a damn break. I want to hang out with Ed, laugh with Dawn, drink with Joe and snuggle my boys. Is that so much to ask? Last night I was mentally planning my wardrobe for the trip. I already told Dawn is better be fucking hot while I’m there. I need to soak up some sun. She’s responsible for this. It’s going to be a pretty jammed packed trip, but I am excited.

I really wish I had more interesting things to blog about. As my life gets more and more boring, so does the blog. Thank Gay Baby for the trip coming up, I’ll actually have something interesting to blog about.

Random Pic:

” . . . then I’m going to lose face. That’s a very serious thing in my culture.” -Phoebe on Friends

Michael is working late tonight. So, I came home, ate some taquitos and watched this week’s 90210. The show is pretty bad. Not really bad in a good way, either (ala The Hills). I have to watch these shows when Michael isn’t home because he does NOT like them. Even as background noise. That’s saying a lot about the man who has had The Gray sneeze in his face. Multiple times. Since he’s going to be gone this weekend, you can expect that’s it going to be all bad TV all the time. Adding insult to injury, since I will be alone with no human contact, you can expect that by Saturday night I will be conversing with the people on the TV. Aloud.

So, what’s the vote on posting a link on Twitter about your new posts? Is it [annoying] shameless self-promotion or helpful info? I’ve tried it out on my last few posts. Unfortunately, it hasn’t driven any new visitors my way. When I say unfortunately, I mean for all those who didn’t click on the link. Can you imagine how empty their life is without my endless whining?

Today we had an Audit at work. I was super stressed about it, which is weird because I am ALL ABOUT compliance. Seriously. I love it. Most Advisorsons hate it, but I just like the rules. Maybe I should stay in the industry and become a Compliance Officer. I could also take a chainsaw and hack off my foot. Either way. In any case, we passed so I can get some damn sleep tonight.

Michael and I stopped in the Verizon store the other day and I am now, officially, obsessed with getting a new phone. What’s that? Oh, you say, I just got a new phone a few months ago? Yeah, that’s true. Since when has a little detail like that ever stopped me? Since I can’t get an iPhone, I need something similar. Currently, I am considering the Blackberry Storm or the Samsung Omnia. When I say considering, I mean mentioning to Michael over and over again until he finally breaks. And the real reason I want one of these phones? I want to have a Twitter app so I can feed my favorite time suck. So far, I have resisted Tweet Deck, but I don’t know how much longer I can last. And I really need to keep my job if I plan to buy a new phone. Classic catch-22.

News from Gray Cat World: The Gray is officially turning into Jake. She has trouble jumping AND she now puts her head under the running water from their drink well. This is one of Jake’s most annoying habits and I am not happy to find The Gray’s head wet whenever I go to pet it. Just another example of the disaster, disease and famine Jake has brought upon our household. As I told Dawn the other night, we should have known when the man practically threw him at us in the parking lot and ran away. I was blinded by need to collect cats with Gray fur. Just call me Cruella.

After this weekend, you’ll likely find me dead covered in Gray. The Hills, playing in the background.

[not so] Random Pic:

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Password:

• Must be a dual alarm clock
• Must not have a bright face and/or adjustable brightness on the face
• The snooze must be longer than 5 minutes, but less than 10
• The snooze must stop snoozing after an hour and just keep screaming until you get up
• It must have a battery back-up component
• No radio, iPod or CD player necessary-just loud annoying noise

As you can see, I am very high-demand. Good Luck in your search!

In other [riveting] news: this weekend Michael and I have to go shopping. At stores. I have pretty much refused to set foot in any store, other than the big freezer, since before Thanksgiving. Because the stupid people have been out. I don’t like them. However, we are now dipping into back-ups of toilet paper, tooth paste and soap and a trip to Target is in order. (As an aside, remember when Target used to mean sex? Now we say Christmas) In addition, I have to go to the dreaded mall because of the 3 bras I own, 2 are broken. And when you have big, heavy boobs, it’s not comfortable to wear an old, shitty bra.

Another reason to go to the store is that it’s Dawn’s birthday today (Happy Birthday Dawn!) and I have to get her a birthday present. As I told her, I would have worked on this sooner if a) it hadn’t been raining this past week and b) she wasn’t so difficult to shop for. I do, however, have some good ideas and I am pretty sure I will share these presents in a blog post after she’s received them because a couple of them will cause shame and humiliation. And what else could she want for her birthday?

I was reading Reader’s Digest yesterday (yes, I have the reading habits of a 60 year old) and I read this article about writing a memoir. I have always wanted to write some sort of book and I have plenty of journals and what not-not to mention some interesting things to write about. The main problem for me is-well, OK, there a couple of problems. The first, most prevalent, being that in the article, it says anyone can write one and that you should really do it for yourself (kind of like writing therapy) and possibly for your family (like kids, which I don’t have). This is a problem because if I take the fucking time to write a book, I’m going to need A LOT of people to read it. And possibly fame. And a movie deal. Which I am not sure any story I write will warrant. Which leads to the other problem: laziness. It would take the millions of readers, fame and movie deal to really get me motivated to write. Since that can’t be guaranteed, my choices are: write (for myself-bleck) or get high and watch Pineapple Express. Guess which I plan on doing tonight?

I could probably blather on some more, but the phone keeps ringing and that kind of means I should be working. Fucking job.

Random pic:

Um, best thing about this pic? Tim took it and named it “Jeni and some baby”