Smarty furr (hehe, that's clever)

The more I live with Tony, the more attributes I find he has somehow taken from me. Only, he has a way of putting his own little twist ono my own charming characteristics.

For example, Tony is an excellent pianist. Now, I don't know that I am excellent, but hopefully I'm good enough to play at my friend's wedding in two weeks, because I am definitely booked for that gig. Tony plays the piano anywhere from one to five times a day. Sometimes he hops up on the keys and walks around, always eventually ending up on the high notes picking one note at a time. Other times, he will just stand on his back legs and play with his front paws, each key carefully chosen. I know this sounds crazy, but there are discernible rythms in his playing.

Now, however, Tony is showing a propensity for artistic talent. Last weekend, while playing roughly with my brother, he actually scratched the word kill into Bro's arm. He even dotted the i, and I don't mean to brag, but his penmenship was quite nice. Tony is making his art major mom proud.

Tony, toilets, and bodily malfunctions

(CAUTION: This post is not for prudes. If you have any prudish tendencies or dislike stories that take place in bathrooms, I highly recommend you clicking your "Back" button and retreating from this page immediately.)

And now, for people like me who enjoy a good story about peeing every once in a while.

So the other day, I posted about the joys of owning a dog (entitled "Honey, I'm home..."). Well, today was Tony's shining moment.

This all took place when I had just come home from school and was getting ready to go to McDonald's with BJ for a rushed meal before embarking on homework. BJ was using the restroom when, suddenly, I heard BJ irritably grumble, "Tony, I can't pee when your doing that." Apparently, Tony licking BJ's foot while BJ is poised at the toilet causes malfunctions in the whole system. And these are the joys of owning a cat.

Honey, I'm home...

...is what I wish I heard tonight when BJ returned at 10:30 p.m. after a long day at work. But, no. Instead, I heard, "Stop sniffing my crotch." And these are the joys of having a dog.

That's lame

Tonight, BJ had a not-quite-the-knight-in-shining-armor moment. He offered to help me do the dishes, but I was at one of those stages when it's a one man job, so I told him I would tell him when stuff needed dried. BJ went to the futon and started playing a videogame in which the goal is to cause high amounts of monetary damage in car crashes. About fifteen minutes later, BJ asked if I was ready, and I replied that I had everything under control. To which he replied, "Are you sure? Okay," and returned to crashing car. There was so short a pause between the question and the okay that I didn't have time to blink much less consider whether or not I was really sure. When I laughingly pointed this out to BJ, he just sheepishly said, "Yeah, that was kind of lame." At least he is willing to admit it.

I can see it...

Tonight, I watched Tony in pursuit of a bug for about ten minutes. I realize this should be a fairly insignificant statement for a pet owner to say of their cat, but tonight was special. You see, Tony was in pursuit of a bug that was on the opposite side of the window pane. So for ten minutes, not only did I watch Tony try to get this bug, but I also listened to loud banging noises as Tony continually butted his head against the clear window. Eventually, he looked up at me with a really confused expression. At this point, I just had to leave the room because it was too sad. I don't know how long it took before he gave up on getting the bug.

The mind of an artist, poet, pianist, and other useless activities

Last night I was happily reading a cheesy romantic novella when BJ called me into the living room to watch Keith Olbermann and hear Bush’s address. Apparently, this was the sort of momentous occasion that I shouldn’t read A Reluctant Schoolmarm through. I really like Olbermann and enjoy his speeches, so I was attentive through that segment of history. And then I figured yeah, sure, I’ll watch Bush, too. So while BJ was appreciating the significance of last night (for better or worse), I just kind of got lost in the mysterious web of my mind. Before I knew it, I was wondering how it is men’s fashion has evolved into the conventional suit, so much so that nearly every man in America with a decent paying job wears a suit Monday through Friday. As I stared at Bush’s red tie, I kept wondering what the function of that curious piece of clothing is or ever was. When I posed these questions to BJ, he said, “You mean all you are getting out of this is wondering why men wear ties?” Yes, that’s it. So I returned to the passionate tales of a schoolmarm.

Zzz...

If you know me, you have probably heard what an incredibly deep sleeper I am. For example, I once slept through my parent's house flooding. We were reroofing the house, and a hail storm came through Menard. I was asleep on the couch that night. My whole family was running around with the lights one, yelling and getting buckets. It was pretty much total chaos. My only memory from this is waking up just long enough to think, "What a strange dream, Dad running in his underwear with a bucket."

A few weeks ago I slept through Sienna throwing up (because she ate Tony's pooh) a couple of feet from my head. I only woke up because BJ was making racket while cleaning the mess with the express purpose of waking me up.

I tell you all of this because I found out today that my life is in danger. BJ was telling me earlier how he sometimes wakes up to find his arm over my face. And I am utterly clueless, deep in sleep. Basically, he could suffocate me, and I would never know. These are the perils of being married.

Old t-shirts with satin nightgowns

In my poetry class, I’ve been reading a book about poetry. The book opens with a paragraph on epiphanies and the important part they play in poetry.

If poetry really is someone coming to an understanding, and stating that understanding in a beautiful condensed way, then my husband was a poet last night.

It all started when I had a day filled with frustration and business. Of course, to make things worse, I was going on only a few hours of sleep. I threw a final coat of gesso on the canvas that was due the next morning in my painting class, and started focusing on my one true goal in life: to get in bed early. I went to the drawer filled with all of the night clothes I got from my lingerie party a few months before the wedding and started digging for something to wear. I decided to actually wear one of the pretty things I had gotten instead of my usual old t-shirts. Finally, I settled on a long, never-before-worn satin night gown in a beautiful cream color.

So I was running around getting everything ready when I felt something knock against my leg: I had run into the wet canvas getting a nice, big white smudge on my satin gown. Nearly in tears after my long day being made longer, BJ offered to wash it immediately and work on removing the stain.

While BJ worked on the stain, I returned to the bedroom and put on a baggy, old t-shirt. BJ came in a few minutes later and said he didn’t think he could get all the stain out, but that it would be okay because the gown would fit me better now. And here is where he became a poet. He said, “It’s like you, the embodiment of elegance…with a smudge.”

So my husband knows me pretty well. And I think that night gown has just become my new favorite. It will now feel as good as a faded old t-shirt.

A piano with a side of slurpy, please

I was really excited yesterday because I got a new piece of sheet music for the piano that I’ve been wanting for months. It is the song my bridesmaids walked into: “Buon Giarno Principessa” from Life is Beautiful. As soon as I printed it off my computer, I ran to the living room and started trying to learn it on my old, trusty piano.

The song is slow and mesmerizing, so I was loosing myself in the music when real life crept in: loud slurping noises floated towards me from my left as Sienna squelched a sudden, tremendous thirst. You might think that this would have ruined my song, and I believe a year ago I would have thought so, too. But somehow it made it better. The sounds of life mingled with the graceful, calming sound of a piano is exactly what I want to hear on my life's soundtrack. I continued playing my songs in the midst of my often chaotic home, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

(However, as a side note, I’m not sure Tony agrees with me. I’m pretty sure he attacked Sienna immediately following her musical performance.)