"Oh, good. It's that time of year that June makes us look at her daily Christmas cup. And also at the makeup smudges on her desk."
And her beaming-up dog.
Yesterday was Tallulah's birthday, but I tried not to dwell on that lest I fall into a sobfest. It was also Steely Dan's final round of shots, which looked liked no fun for him. They took him in the back, as they mysteriously do now, and brought him right back. "I'm so sorry," said the flustered tech. "He saw this little dog back there, just a tiny dog, and jumped right out of my arms after it. He arched up and hissed."
They decided to do his shots right in the room. Steely Dan is a bad ass.
He also weighs 7 pounds. Which is not what a 4-month-old (16 weeks) kitten should weigh. See what I did, there? I did the weeks to be annoying. You and your 37-month-old child. They took a gander at his teefs, a thing that similarly thrilled him, and determined he was not born July 11, but May 15.
"That makes perfect sense," I said. "He's so totally a Taurus and not a Cancer." I had to explain, then, that I used to live in LA and we needed to know all the astrology in order to get our driver's license.
While SD and I waited for the vet, he mostly leaped. The cat. Not the vet.
He leaped off the table.
You get my drift.
how bout dis? dis for jumpeeng? it be anytheeng?
Anyway, after they gave him his horrible rabies shots (he bit a guy at work just minutes before his rabies shot. Am looking forward to that guy foaming today) and boosters and deworming medicine, they said, Hey, give us 288 dollars and you can go. (I also got his flea meds.)
The GOOD news is, because he's older than we thought, he's all set for neutering December 30. Yay! New year, no sack. No baby new year for THIS guy. And yes, I am having a de-sacking party for him, as I did for Edsel seven years ago.
I took that poor soon-to-be-sackless baby back home and got to work, and then at lunch I busied myself arranging all my apps by color on my phone.
RIGHT? How bad do you want to be me right now?!
It's something of a tradition that they let us out early to get ready for the work Christmas party, and yes they call it a Christmas party, so I hurried home to see if the baby kitty was okay, and I couldn't find him and grew alarmed. I looked in his kitten bed…
…but as usual, Lily was bogarting it.
I was hoping he was resting in the sun, but it was Iris was in the bedroom, on my oh-so-neatly-made bed. "If you make your bed, the whole room looks neater," Ned often smugs. "It's the biggest piece of furniture in your room."
Oh, shut up.
Finally, I found him, with an eye mask and a Do Not Disturb sign. Poor Steely Dan. He never did rally, all night. He's a little livelier today, but hasn't eaten much. He thought he wanted to eat, then looked at it and said, Yeah, no.
Then, I got up with some of the Alexes at the manicure place. They both got a deep burgundy, but one got glitter and one didn't. aka worlds different.
This Alex had trouble deciding, and finally the manicure lady was all, "Just let your spirit be free," a thing she said with the enthusiasm of a tree sloth, and right then I knew, I loved the manicure lady.
Until, at the end, when all the fun was had, she asked, "Was that your daughter and her friend?"
I mean, YES, I could be their mother, but I get drunk with these people. Dang.
Old mom, here, got navy nails with one gold glitter nail on each hand. Note my Princess Diana/Kate real sapphire ring not at all from QVC, which is where they got theirs.
It went with my navy-and-champagne-polka-dot frock I got from Stitch Fix. Also, my vanity mirror is still not put together, and the light bulb is burnt out in the other room with a full-length mirror, so getting ready was a pleasure.
I put on enough makeup to join the Ice Capades.
And waited for my Mug Shot date. I just want you to know in real life, he laughs and smiles. You get a camera out and he's all Cell Block H.
The work CHRISTMAS party is no small feat. It's at this elegant hotel, and everyone's kids are invited, and there's shrimp and that one kind of red meat that's on that giant slab of meat and someone stands there and cuts it. What's that called? And there are presents for everyone under 10, and since I'm a 10 I didn't get one. Anyway, behold The Poet and Jane West, feasting. That is Ned's beer and not The Poet's. The idea of The Poet grabbing herself a brew is just about killing me right now.
The bartender got the beer out the ice, then smacked it onto a napkin and rolled it up. "Did you SEE that?" I asked, Ned, delighted. I don't get out a lot.
It's also dark in that room. Look what a wide load I am next to skinny Alex. Jesus.
The little kids were all dancing during the dinner music, throwing themselves across the dance floor and sliding and so on. You have no idea how bad I wanted to join them. But I'd have looked drunk, even though I wasn't.
There's one kid I've always been enamored with. I've put a picture of her in here, from a Halloween party in 2011, but I don't have time to search for it because Ned just called me to talk about his fancy president things he has to do, and one person you should really rely on for how to president is me. Nancy Reagan, over here. Just say yes.
If I were First Lady, which one would I be? I want to be Jackie, but let's face it, I'm Betty Ford.
Anyway, she's outgoing and delightful and she wears glasses, this kid who's at every Christmas party. I'm forever asking her dad if she's gonna be there again that year, and I'm certain at this point he's all, What the hell with June and her obsession with my kid?
But she gets out there in her little Christmas dress and leads the kid dancing every year.
This year, she came right over to my table. "I like your polka-dot dress," she told me. Then she turned to Ned. "Hi, I'm Morgan, " she announced confidently. Oh my god.
Anyway, we danced, Kid of Confidence and me. We danced to some song I've never heard in my life, because old and no mainstream music exposure, then we danced to some song from the '70s I was thoroughly enjoying and can no longer recall. Play That Funky Music? I really can't remember. It was 10 hours ago.
"Did you have fun?" asked Ned as we drove home. We were the last people to leave. Poor Ned.
"I did. Except…" I hesitated.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"I don't feel like there was enough exclaiming by everyone over how pretty I looked."
And that is when Ned decided to just drop me off at my door.
Releasing the splendor of me,