Photos I took of her the day before yesterday, when it was 90 degrees and the only decent thing to do was pass the hell out.

This morning:


She likes the boob shelf. Usually the boob shelf is a little... er, higher, but I was wearing one of those built-in-shelf-bra camisoles and the shelf bra wasn't really doing much for the boob shelf. But that's really where she climbs up to sit.
She was also helping me use my computer.




I took some pictures of her sitting on the keyboard with my big camera, but I haven't downloaded them yet.

She is a marvelous cat, content to amuse herself when we are elsewhere or busy, but endearingly eager for attention when we're willing to provide it. She wanders around the house talking to herself, and purrs almost constantly. She's a shameless food-stealer, and at first people-mealtimes were an ordeal, but then I realized that her Dingle Mouse cat toy was distracting enough that she'd happily play with it through an entire supper and not bother us once, as long as someone jiggled the mouse once in a while.

She also has learned to sleep when we do, which is really important in this household. She no longer insists on arising with the sun, but happily lies on your face/neck/arm/chest until you feel like getting out of bed. She doesn't even claw you.

I haven't gotten an appointment with a vet yet because I'm lazy. But I will-- I'm going to try the one on Kenmore Ave because they're close. Z's mom takes her geriatric cat to the Small Animal Hospital on S. Elmwood, but says the Kenmore Ave one is affiliated with them and so is probably worth a shot. Can't beat the commute, at least.

Not that the little girl won't ride in the car-- she doesn't mind cars at all. She doesn't mind much. I don't think anything fazes her.

She's had one trauma so far. She was playing around the kitchen chairs while (e:zobar) was chopping veggies for dinner. Our kitchen chairs are folding chairs, I admit-- we're sort of still not very sophisticated in our furniture. She had been jumping up and down off one of the chairs in her mad scramble to thoroughly persecute Dingle Mouse. Suddenly there was a mad scrabbling. I assumed she had missed her footing while trying to jump up onto one of the chairs. So I turned, and saw her trying to scramble up. She squeaked in distress, so I put my hand under her backside to give her a boost. She squeaked louder, turning it into a shriek, and I realized that one of her front paws was under the chair seat.
I quickly realized it was stuck, so I stopped lifting her and she stopped shrieking. She struggled to get away but I clamped my hand around her and held her while I felt with my other hand to see where she was stuck. One of her toes, claw extended, was wedged between two parts of the folding chair.
I worked it free and she immediately began to purr.
I looked her toe all over and it seemed OK, so I put her down and she ran nimbly away. I guess it didn't hurt that much.

I just thought it was so funny how fast she started purring. She was like, "Ok! All better! Let me go get that mouse!"

Ahh well. In closure, I have to link to this:


It's so true. I'm a babbling idiot.

She doesn't have a name yet, but I just abducted one of (e:leetee)'s neighbor's kittens. I stole the gray one from her post.
We carried her out to the car in a shoebox, which upset her deeply. I gave her my finger to gnaw on through one of the holes in the box, but it wasn't much comfort. So once we were in the car I let her out.

While (e:zobar) went into Wegmans to get a litterbox and some kitten chow, I let her roam around the car. She climbed up on my headrest, leapt around the back seat, climbed up into the rear windshield ledge and stalked the guy collecting shopping carts, and then abruptly remembered I was there and came flying back to chew on my nose.

We got her home and let her explore the house. After she ravenously devoured like, five kibbles of kitten chow, she ignored the food and wandered around.
Then I played with her with a cat toy for about half an hour. I finally wedged it between my mattress and box spring so the string part would hang down. It took her fifteen minutes to bust it apart and carry the feathery fur-mouse away to gnaw on it.

Now Z has gone to bed, and I am in my bed, and she is wandering around the house meowing. I called her and she came racing into the bedroom, took a flying leap, and made it up onto the bed, where she briefly gave me lovies, but then leapt off to explore the house again.

Oop, she's back. She's climbing on my head and shoulders and down my back, purring like a small electric motor, the function of which is to produce cute.

There are four more kittens. They are all this cute. See (e:leetee)'s post for more details.



Update: Aw jeez, she keeps running across the room and smacking into the mirror. I think she's looking for the other kittens. :( I don't have room for that many cats in this house!

The setting: The car, windows down, on a beautiful soft night after the rain has swept the day's muggy heat away. On the way home from a punishing roller derby practice of brutal scrimmaging and exhausting endurance drills, THE ROLLERGIRL is driving, one arm out the window, while THE BOYFRIEND sits in the passenger's seat cueing up music on the iPod.

RG: What a beautiful night.
BF: Mm.
RG: (coyly) Hey, you know, we don't have to go straight home.
BF: Hm?
RG: We could, you know, pull over on that dark street we used to visit... you know... enjoy the evening.
BF: Why?
RG: You know. Make out a little.
BF: No thanks. You smell kinda bad.



Honest-to-God true story from tonight.

(I just read "Rollergirl: Totally True Tales From the Track" because my mom heard about it on NPR and bought it for me. It's good, but my life is just so much more glamorous than that girl's. I need to be the one writing a tell-all memoir.)

Missing Image ;(

That's a real bruise on Sissy's ass. That's also her real hair.
OK, I uploaded that one twice and it won't show up, so if y'all want to see Sissy's bruised ass (which is bruised again) you'll have to come to the bout THIS SATURDAY NIGHT.



Just a couple teaser pictures for you. Lower photo by Ron Douglas

Apparently we've never blogged the catfish/green bean wrestling before. Too bad. It's amusing. But Pleco(saurus) hates it when we watch now.

I had an awesome time at roller derby practice tonight. This bout is going to be crazy awesome great. I can't even tell you how much.
I might wind up jamming one or two jams. I really feel like I'm skating well lately. So we'll see.

I have to pimp the upcoming bout. It's next Saturday, the 23rd. It's the LAST ONE OF THE SEASON. It will be ALL THREE teams in a round-robin-- so, a full hour of roller derby, not counting timeouts and halftime and the like. I swear to you, it will be awesome.
ALSO:

The night before, Friday June 22nd, at the Albright-Knox Art Gallery, FREE: their Gusto At The Gallery Event is roller-derby themed. Yes! There will be an exhibition/demonstration of how modern flat-track roller derby is played, performed by members of the Queen City Rollergirls; there will be booze, there will be a 70s dance party and also! There will be a free showing of the movie Kansas City Bomber.
FREE.
FREE.
June 22nd.
This is CULTURE, people!! It is also free. And it is roller derby. Also we're going to try to give out coupons for discounted admissions to our bout the next day. SO.
June 22nd, Gusto at the Gallery, Roller Derby Nite. I think it's 3 pm until like, late, I dunno.
June 23rd, 7 pm, Rainbow Rink in NT, it is the Battle Royale, the Season Finale, and I promise we will be way less lame and probably more violent than some notable season finales of late.

Also I am making a personal promise to all of you that I will kick ass.

So.
(e:zobar) is at the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies' Annual Convention, in Oregon of all places.
I am horridly jealous, as I have never been to OR or indeed any of the Pacific Northwest or for that matter the West at all except 1 brief visit to SoCal and a trip to AZ as a 12-year-old. (OMG. FUCKING GORGEOUS DESERT. It's a damn shame I can't deal with too much sun.)

Anyway.
More importantly:

I am home alone. It's just me, here. Me, and the plecostomus catfish (creatively named "Pleco", or "Plecosaurus" when I'm drunk). Me and the catfish in his tank, and the liquor cabinet, and wireless Internet.

This oughta be good.

The catfish, I might mention, is shy, and so if you look at him, he flips out. Somehow, despite being about as inert as it's possible for a living thing to get, he notices when you look at him from across the room, and tries to dive under the gravel in the tank.

I'm about evenly torn between totally trashing the house and cleaning it top to bottom. We'll see how the weekend progresses. It's still only Wednesday.

(e:zobar), I never knew you were so proud of doing naughty things to me. I think you should exercise your pride more frequently. My vagina will just be over here, ok? So if you need it, you know, to be proud of, you know, I'm here for you.

Anyway. I had never actually attended a Pride event before, so this one was exceptionally exciting for me.
I was sick as a dog, though, which reduced the amusement value.

The whole thing should really more accurately be named, "The Festival Of Awesome T-Shirts" because I saw so many hilarious clever shirts.

A few samples I can still remember:
"I FOUND JESUS-- he was behind the couch the whole time!" (worn by a dude standing right next to the first group of protestors, who I skated up to in complete innocence and handed handbills to without even noticing they were yelling about my shamelessness in their megaphones. I told you I've been sick.)
"Girls are better at eating pussy." (I suppose out of diplomacy I shouldn't comment. but out of pride one should practice more. right??)
"I'm not gay, but my boyfriend is" (worn by the husband of a rollergirl)
"Don't like abortions? Don't have one" (seen it before, but it's worth mentioning)
And then there were a lot of cool or clever graphical ones I can't really convey here, but they were cool, take my word for it.

However. The coolest part of the whole day, at least to me, ruled so hard I just can't get over it.
So there are a pair of protesters, one with a megaphone and the other with a sign that says, like, Jesus hates you, or something to that effect. Whatever. The megaphone dude is going on and on, really loud, about how "YOU ARE ABOMINATIONS-- YOU SHAMELESS WOMEN WHO LIE WITH WOMEN" (I assume this was directed at my group, who were all rollergirls; most of us are straight or bi [and of the bi girls, most of us are in monogamous heterosexual relationships so it's more a matter of self-identification than anything else] but you know, whatever. We were skating in a Pride parade, so we were sort of ready to be called lesbos. I don't think any of us mind.) Then the dude started going on about marriage, probably because the float a little ways behind us was about legalizing gay marriage (like nine out of ten of the floats were...)
So I hiked my shirt up and flashed him my bra, and yelled "JESUS LOVES YOU TOO!"
The dude looked at me and pretended not to see me, but the next thing he said was "THE ONLY REAL LOVE IS BETWEEN A MAN AND HIS HUSBAND."
Then there was kind of a pause.
"ER I MEAN WIFE."

I died laughing.

So someone on LJ was writing
about some fascinating gender politics stuff she'd been reading, in particular someone's observations of body language issues between men and women. I responded to that with some points about how, growing up, I was always the largest of my peers, and how that formed me-- I went to a girls' high school, and am quite big for a woman, and so got used to thinking of myself as huge, which is odd now that I live in a mixed-company world in which men are often significantly larger than I am-- but not in my head, which still thinks of myself as so big...

And someone else on LJ was ranting

about how the current constant state of ill-informed panic about how Americans Are Fat Oh Noes Dieting Is The Answer! is based almost exclusively on poor science and statistics with no adjustments or controls, combined with generalized willful ignorance of the contributing factors. And I wrote her an amen, sister! And in the course of my amen, I looked up what my BMI actually is.
So I found this helpful government website about obesity.

It had a handy-dandy BMI calculator, which I used to make my point (5 feet 7 inches times 190 pounds equals 29.8, which by their chart scrapes me in just under "obese" in the "overweight" category).
Which depressed me a little. I suppose. Much as I talk a big line about how I don't think my weight is at all an issue in my health, and I think women my size should refuse to be pigeonholed as Fat, etc., etc., it still is depressing to think that, well, yes, I'm clinically obese, and yes, I really am that big.

But then I kept reading on that website-- I clicked the link called "limitations of the BMI" because the original poster, on LJ, had mentioned her disgust with the use of BMI as the sole indicator of obesity, and I had heard rumblings about it but had never really seen coherently explained what other factors could be used.
So I clicked, and read, and became really super enraged at my stupid doctor. (I know I blogged this on here but it was a while ago so let me explain-- no, let me sum up: My knees were hurting because I was exercising too much what with the 40 hours of waitressing and 10+ hours of roller derby, so I went to the doctor, who said yes yes you should rest, and then asked my height, did math in her head, told me I was obese, and instructed me to exercise more. Yes. Exercise less, but exercise more. She then told me, when I pointed out that I already exercised a damn lot, that I should cut down on my carbs. That was the sum total of her advice to me. So your knees hurt and you have eczema: Why don't you diet?)

So anyway. Apparently BMI is only the slightest bit meaningful, and so to determine whether someone is actually obese or not, you must take other factors into account.
Jesus fucking Christ, I'd never have guessed that one.
What other factors are these, to give this poor innocent doctor a chance to not be a fucking idiot?

Well, for one thing, waist size. Yes, just a simple number, not at all adjusted for height. If you are a woman and your waist is over 35 inches, you are obese.
Hm. The largest my waist has ever been is 34 inches, so, by that statistic, I'm good. (At the moment it's 32 or 33 depending on when I last ate, pooped, or retained water.)
Doc, it's not looking so good for you.

But wait! Another chance. There's a whole list of risk factors and if you get two or more you should talk to your doctor about losing weight. (How's that for non-intensive language?)
Blood pressure-- but she'd just tested, and mine was fine-to-low. High cholesterol-- but, again, she'd just tested, and mine was ridiculously low. Family history stuff-- no. Smoking-- no. Blood sugar-- no, mine was excellent. Triglycerides-- didn't even mention these. Physical inactivity-- oh maybe that's it. Except oh wait no it isn't if you actually fucking listened to me.
The only issue I had was that my HDL cholesterol was slightly low. Which apparently would be solved if I exercised more. Which I would do, if she'd stopped going on about my fatness long enough to actually pay attention to the issue that had brought me into her office which was crippling pain in the knees apparently caused by overexertion!!!

• pant pant pant*

I wish I could stop being angry over this, but I am just so pissed. I hate not being taken seriously. And now that I am more informed I'm even more angry.

My activity level has dropped. But the pain in my knees has been coming back when I've been more active-- any activity that involves a lot of standing up, walking around, even running, and my knees start to ache after a few hours. I still am fairly active, and it hasn't stopped me skating, but it hasn't gone away either. Maybe it's not just overuse? I don't hurt them at work anymore. But it's not gone entirely.

I'd go to a doctor about it, but what's the point? Now I'm between health insurance again so it would be out of my pocket, and I already know now that all they'll want to say is that I'm fat, even though the national heart lung and blood institute tells me I don't have enough risk factors for my weight to be a health issue.

Great!

Is the Hell on Wheels roller derby bout. I will be hosting it, singing the Canadian National Anthem, and in general being an enthused spectator. My team captain will be MCing in her leather chaps and i assure you it's a sight to behold. (She teaches fitness classes. Ask her about how to get an ass like hers.)

TODAY, 7:00, Rainbow Rink, 101 Oliver St. North Tonawanda, $15 at the door, halftime band, and I promise you it will be a hell of a match. We've never had a fight yet, but you know, there have been some prickly tempers this past month, and I'm expecting that there'll at least be some shouting.

On top of some excellent derby-- these are both very good teams with some experienced players. That's the best thing about this hectic first season, I think-- every time we play, we all get better, because we all still have so much to learn.

But we've come so far, from those first Bambi-On-Ice staggering steps around the rink last July...

Come see us! There will be beer! I may have to not be on skates just so I can drink said beer, as I've never actually been allowed any before (WFTDA international rules state that no skater can consume alcohol while on skates at an event. Which I imagine leads to a lot of girls running around in their socks, but, we'll see how that's enforced. If you see me in my socks tonight, then you know how it's going down-- ohhh, yeah.)

This is also the first roller derby bout I will ever be attending, instead of skating in. I am SO EXCITED. I have literally never watched one. I don't know what it looks like, with all the people and the screaming and the, everything, you know??? Oh I'm excited.

And-- bonus!!! If any of you show up to this one, I'll be able to sit with you and explain what's going on!!! (In addition we have a demo that will run on the projectors on a continuous loop-- we were supposed to for the last one and it went missing at the last minute, so y'all were on your own, but this one will be better we promise.)

So anyway-- come out! It will be totally awesome!!

I came to a decision last night at roller derby practice while sitting on the wall with my other slacker-Knockout sisters surreptitiously checking out our captain's ass in the leather chaps she was strapped into.

(There should probably be backstory. The Knockouts are not skating in this upcoming bout, they are hosting it, while the Saucies and the Dollies do all the hard work of beating the absolute shit out of one another. To be fair, the Knockouts have had the shit beaten out of them in the previous three bouts so far, so you know, it's not like we're always lazy. In fact half of us are crippled from April, so, you know, it's about time we had a rest before we're all dead. So the other two teams were huffing and sweating and you know, actually doing roller derby, while the Knockouts-- well, some of us were also rolling around like fiends, but those of us who know what's up, we were all sitting on the wall like a bunch of slackers. Our team captain has volunteered to be on the mike this time, co-announcing with our usual announcer; given that the bout's theme is Hell on Wheels, she's wearing a biker outfit, and it is, well, quite frankly, hot. I can't quite express the sheer incredible overwhelmingness of a 200-pound-woman with weightlifter's shoulders wearing leather chaps and a halter top. It's something to behold, I tell you.)

Anyway. Those of us who are total slackers were sitting on the wall and being utterly lazy, and were discussing the summer's reduced practice schedule. I decided that we needed to take all the extra time we're going to have, in the absence of team and league practices [which have, of late, literally been every day of the week-- April nearly fucking killed us all], and devote that same focus, energy, and determination to the act of partying.
I think we need to set up a rigorous schedule of social events this summer. There needs to be at least one rollergirl party a week. Enough of us have porches and patios and hot tubs and garage-bar-setups and blenders and, in my case, ridiculous fucking liquor cabinets that this can happen. This is going to be a thing.

It's going to be a thing. This will be the summer of Party.

I'll be sure to throw at least one (e:strip) party.

I am so tired and sore and oof now.
Itinerary/schedule was a bit overwhelming. I warn you, this is long. Just when you think it's over, there's MORE.
Itinerary/schedule:

Thursday: last day of work at old job, 10 am to 8 pm. 8:30-11:00: roller derby practice and PR/production committee meeting.
Friday: spend entire day cleaning house and packing. 4:00: pick (e:zobar) up from work and drive to Cortland, NY.
8:00 pm: arrive at little sister Fiona's house in Cortland. Play with her 3 cats. Eat a really awful dinner at Applebee's. Then get chased out of Wal-Mart while buying wrapping paper for the wedding gift.

Saturday: Awaken way too early. Try to restrain jitters while sister and sister's surly boyfriend sleep in. (This task is made easier by playing with the three adorable cats.) Finally run out and get breakfast while sister and boyfriend are working their way to consciousness.
9:30 am: Get on the road, an hour later than you'd have liked. Drive to Ithaca. Pick up other little sister, Ann, who has been waiting outside with her toes tapping for a half an hour. (Ann tolerates no nonsense.)
Claim Ann for your car, and get on the road toward Long Island.
10:00-1:00 drive a lot, and be told about hilarious things Ann found on the Internet, and also that she's moving to Chicago in four days. Realize you didn't know that and should probably call your family members more often.
Get off at a rest stop in PA, discover that there are no restrooms at the McDonald's but instead there are giant horrible Port-A-Potties outside. Be glad you're a girl with a bladder like a camel. Decline a drink, and get into Fiona's car because you feel bad that her comatose and surly boyfriend (to give him credit, he's very ill) is her only company for all these hours. Get lost trying to find the highway again. Find the highway by dint of Ann's frantic gesturing and (e:zobar) 's hairpin turns-- the sign was only visible if you'd already passed the turnoff.
Decide that Pennsylvania's state motto must be "We're Just Fuckin' With Ya".
2:00-3:00 sit in traffic on the George Washington Bridge. Roll the window down and hang your legs out the window in a forlorn, last-minute hope for a tan. Get stared at a lot. Pull your legs back in the window and sit normally. Still get stared at a lot, for no reason. Start flipping people off.
Probably not a good idea.
3:00-4:00 Lose sight of the leading car in the caravan because the Prius has EZPass and you don't. You're the one with the directions so it shouldn't bother you, but you discover that you're very lonely without the dorky little green car. Be sad.
Realize you hate Long Island.
Give up on life.
Stare blankly at the road in despair. We're never going to get there. The wedding is at 6 pm. It's after three now. We'll never make it. We'll die here.
Suddenly pass a dorky little green car with (e:strip) stickers on it. Honk frantically. Wave.
4:00 miss the turn for the hotel. Do an illegal U-turn. Look back and watch Ann and (e:zobar) do the same, laughing hysterically. Realize that there was another turn-off for the hotel just ahead, and they had seen it, and had decided to follow your stupid crazy ass anyway.
Walk into the hotel to check in. Notice a big group of people in the lobby standing around. Realize it's a group getting portraits done-- a wedding group, no less. Admire the bridesmaid's beautiful pale skin. Admire the bride's stunning dress. Realize abruptly that they're your cousins. Laugh when you realize they haven't recognized you either. (We've seen these cousins a few times over the last year or so, so it's not like we're out of touch. We just didn't expect to see each other.)

Forget about the long trip as you finally greet all your relations. Run into unexpected people in the hotel elevators and have joyful reunions. Most of us are on the sixth floor, so much running up and down through the hallways ensues, often in less-than-complete clothing. Get your picture taken, by your mom, while in your underwear. Realize you've lost your camera bag somewhere and have no idea what you were thinking when you put the curlers into your hair, as you now have an unusable mass of grossness that used to be your beautiful long hair, and you have no idea what you had intended to do with it. Oops. Well, nobody's here to look at you, they're here for your cousin, so it doesn't really matter. Leave it and get dressed.

5:30 scramble downstairs, barely dressed, hair a mess, and pile into the shuttle to the wedding. Gleefully reunite with immediate family you haven't seen since Christmas. Hear all about your older sister's pregnancy. (The baby is the size of your thumb now. At the last ultrasound s/he was swimming around a lot. We have dubbed him/her The Swimming Peanut.)
5:45 Start to wonder where the shuttle bus is actually taking you.
6:00 REALLY start to wonder where the shuttle bus is actually taking you.
6:05 arrive at the country club where the wedding is. Pile out of the shuttle bus. Shriek a lot and hug people. Get your picture taken a lot.

6:30-7:00 Freeze your gorram ass off outside in the breeze. Admire the beautiful bride. Notice the bridesmaid is shivering. At one point the groom reaches over and rubs the bride's slightly-blue arm. But the weather is beautiful. The groom almost cries while reciting his vows. Be very touched at what a sweet boy he is. (He is.)
Thank the people in the row in front of you for blocking much of the breeze.
Be proud of the fact that you can say that the wacky dude in the full Scottish regalia playing the bagpipes for the processional is your dad.

7:00-8:30 Cocktail Hour! Help the Norwegian cousin's girlfriend (LJ user pushyqueen) decide what cocktails to drink. Eat crazy-good appetizers. Drink a lot. Dad gets bored and goes outside to pace around and play the bagpipes some more. (e:zobar) gets bored and decides to go follow him and blow bubbles. The entire wedding decides this is the most priceless thing they've ever seen. Many photos ensue.

8:30-10:30 Long wedding reception consisting of many widely-spaced courses of food, a great deal of booze, and a whole lot of dancing and general chicanery. The "kids' table" consisted of all the cousins in our generation on this side, which meant that Terry, 31(?) was the oldest, and Ann, 22, was the youngest, except K, 15, who has been very isolated from the family because Dad's brother married a crazy woman and they adopted her and the crazy woman is paranoid about the rest of the family so poor K really doesn't know us and hadn't even met the Norwegian cousins. We tried our best to include her in everything we did but we didn't really know how, and were so distracted with each other...
Fiona's sullen boyfriend suddenly feels better and starts acting like himself, which is a great relief as when he's himself he's an amusing, charming, articulate guy, and Fiona always is much happier when he's behaving himself.

12:00 collapse into bed, completely comatose.

Sunday 7:30 am: wake up. Detangle hopeless hair. Shower. Help (e:zobar) shower. (He was dirty. Very dirty.) Go around and see who else is awake. Drink coffee with family. Go downstairs to breakfast. See yet more family you didn't get time to talk to. Wish there was one more day here. Discover that lj-user=pushyqueen's master's thesis was on Internet fanfiction communities and engage in extremely, extremely dorky conversation about it.

10:00 am look at ultrasound photos of The Swimming Peanut. Be unexpectedly touched. Get excited. Then bid farewell to older sister, who is taking the Peanut back to Georgia, where she lives. Be newly charmed by what wacky little old people your parents have unexpectedly morphed into. Sit in the hotel lobby and cry and hug your sisters. Cry and hug your mom. Watch mom cry and hug Ann, who is, oh yeah, graduating from Cornell and moving to Chicago in three days. Oh yeah, Chicago's far and she's the baby of the family and she's going away and growing up now. Sniffle a little.

11:00 pile into the car. Get lost trying to find a gas station. Curse and revile Long Island. Wash the car windows while getting gas, only to realize that you've just made them dirtier. Curse Long Island again. Pile onto the expressway and drive away.

Drive for hours. Hours and hours. Realize you're still too tired of driving to be able to deal AT ALL with driving again. Wish, again, you'd had another day to recover and see everybody. Oh well. Lose sight of Fiona's car, again because of EZpass. Drive for hours, lonely and in despair. Have wonderful conversations with Norwegian cousin and girlfriend. Start to worry that (e:zobar) should have a break from driving.

Cross the border from New Jersey. Roll down window, shake fist: "God's mercy on you swine!" Be excited for a minute, but then realize that you're in Pennsylvania, and that is worse.

2:00 pull off at The Crossings, a giant outlet mall in PA (Motto: "We're Just Fucking With You!"). Shop. Shop shop shop! Start to despair, and then suddenly, with Fiona's help, stumble upon a massive cache of exactly what you were looking for, professional-looking but comfortable work clothes, at Banana Republic, on massively huge sale. (Like I would ever spend $80 on a pair of pants! Hah.) Save so much money you get giddy.
3:30 get on the road again.
4:00 wish you were dead.
5:00 despair that you are not, in fact, dead.
6:00 fall asleep.
7:00 be guilty for sleeping.
8:00 begin to hunt for implement with which to kill self.
8:30 get off the highway. Realize you're in Ithaca. Realize Ithaca is beautiful. Drop the plastic knife and drool out the window.
9:00 GET OUT OF THE GODDAMN FUCKING CAR AT LAST.
Dinner in Ithaca, at some Asian place. Norwegian cousin begins to tell jokes. Die laughing. Discuss poop at great length. Gross out rest of restaurant. Feel bad; leave really good tip.

10:30 have one beer. Fall asleep in Ann's dorm room. Stay there.

Monday Yes! There's more! Notice we were in Ithaca, not Buffalo! You're right, we have MORE DRIVING TO DO!!! Oh BOY!!!
7:00 am: Awaken in terrible pain. Do not want to get up, as there are three other sleep-deprived people in the room and you'd feel bad about waking them. But the pain is bad, and you have to. Realize suddenly, oh joy, it's Your Special Woman Time. Motherfucker. At least you're prepared.
7:00-9:00 Writhe in horrible pain. Dehydration and exhaustion have made the cramps really bad. Curse the world and yourself and your Woman Bits. Feel really sorry for yourself. Drink water.
9:00 Ann is awake, so you go to the kitchen with her and drink tea, and tea, and tea, in hopes that it will ease the pain and your desire to be dead.
Make waffles. That helps. It helps a lot. Everyone wakes up and things are amusing again.
10:00 go for a walk to the wildflower garden where Ann used to work. Be oddly entranced by the native flora. Eat wild leeks and violas. Be amused as Ann is unable to restrain herself from pulling weeds.
11:00 eat Cornell ice cream. Because it's always time for ice cream.
12:00 go downtown (by car! omg!) and wander around Ithaca. Buy more stuff! Score a sweet shoulder bag that could discreetly fit a laptop and perhaps conceal what a big fucking dork you are behind a sly, professional facade. You hope. Also score a sweet swishy skirt on clearance, and pay way more than you thought you would for a scarf you really wanted anyway.
Delicious shopper's high.
1:00 meet Fiona and her boyfriend, whose good mood has remained and now you can see what she sees in him, for lunch. Viva Taqueria! Have margaritas. Insist on paying for the whole thing. Get your camera back from Fiona (you left it at her house) and feel much better about not being out a grand.

2:00 part ways with Ann. Sniffle a little. Now you have to drive to Chicago if you want to see her. This is what you were always afraid would happen to your family-- that they'd scatter all over the place. Feel sad. But be happy for her, because she's so nervous but it's a good job she's getting. Know she'll be fine. Tell her so.

2-6:00: drive up rte. 89, right along the edge of Cayuga Lake, and go to three wineries. Taste wines, chatter a lot, and buy stuff. Amuse everyone by playing 3-d Tetris to cram everything into the car. Amuse the winery employees by explaining that you can only fit two more bottles of wine into your packed car.
At the last winery (Thirsty Owl, a little north of Ovid NY), take a photo of the car because it's riding so low on its springs you can't believe it actually goes.
For the record, a Prius can hold four people and their luggage, and it won't complain, but it also won't go very fast or stop very quickly.

6:00 part ways from sister Fiona. Drive up to the Thruway. Drive like crazy out to Buffalo.

9:00 order pizza and wings in Buffalo. Eat them. Listen for car horns. Hear none, and realize that the Sabres must have lost. Try not to think about it.
Drink a lot.

Tuesday: No, it's not over. You have the Norwegians now. You have Ambitious Plans of Things To Do With Them.
6:00 wake up. Do things.
7:00 nobody else is awake...
8:00 (e:zobar) gets up and gets ready for work. No other signs of life in house. Until PQ gets up and manages to lock herself in the bathroom. Attempt bravely to rescue her, until she rescues herself with a pair of makeshift pliers made out of scissors. Traumatized, she goes back to bed.
9:00 (e:zobar) goes to work. No other signs of life in house.
10:00 No signs of life.
11:00 Ah. Signs of life. Weather is uncooperative for trip to Falls. Go out to breakfast and then shopping instead. Mm, Kosta's.
4:00 PQ is on verge of hyperventilation from coolness of shopping in US. Take a break. Go get (e:zobar) from work. Drive home and have a calming dinner at home.

8:30 roller derby practice. Realize you have SO MUCH TO DO for the upcoming bout that you really can't afford the time to go to Mom and Dad's with the Norwegians. Be sad about that. But realize that you really do have commitments and have to honor them, and besides, you have a lot to do around the house.
11:00-1:00 Drink a lot, at home. Amuse one another immensely.

Wednesday
Sleep in. Only, not really. 8:00 am get up with (e:zobar) and feed him bagels and coffee. Lie around staring blankly at stuff until 9:30. Then feed Norwegians bagels and coffee. Amuse the crap out of yourselves by taking phonetic Norwegian dictation to write postcards to their friends and such. This is a highly entertaining pastime and I recommend it to anyone.
11:00-12:30 A little bit more shopping, then buy lunch to go at Cafe 59 and hie thee to the train station.
Sit and eat lunch while you wait for the train.
The train is late.
The train is later.
2:05: Put Norwegians onto the "1:25" Maple Leaf to Albany. Wave goodbye.
Go home.
Start working on something you'd been meaning to do for days. Forget what it is.
Fall facefirst into bed.
Sleep 45 minutes.
Be awakened by phone. Attempt to speak coherently to your father, who's wondering if you got the Norwegians onto the train and if he's picking them up and what's going on there...
Put phone down. Realize there are miles to go before you sleep.
Go do the dishes.
6:00 pm. J and Redfox come over to work on roller derby press and production stuff. Redfox abducts you to go shopping and pick up food. Catch up on all the Dollies gossip. Catch up on all the league gossip. Get excited about roller derby again. Meanwhile J and (e:zobar) are amusing the hell out of one another.
12:00 J finally gives up on trying to print business cards, and takes Redfox home. (She passed out on the couch about an hour before.)

Fall asleep. Never wake up.

Until now. Oh man. I have so much to do and I have that kind of depressing let-down of not being so frantically busy but happy anymore. I miss the Norwegians, I wish I was at Mom and Dad's with them, I wish I could be there, but I have a lot to do here and I have to kind of slot myself back into my own life now and remember where I left off...