Commuter Patterns

As my most consistent topic of online conversation lately has been cats rather than creme brulees and cacciatore, I thought I could at least explain the latest. If you're looking for love triangles, you'll have to look elsewhere because today we're talking about our commute. And by our, I mean the cat and I.

HoneyCat and I have been together for a little more than three years. She's been an indoor/outdoor (read:garden) cat for two of those years. In the winter, her primary purpose is to make getting out of bed as hard as possible for me. She burrows all the way into the blankets, creating sprawling warm spots that I must pass through to get both legs on the floor. She is sleepy and soft and I am too. I ask her if she wants to go out but I'm really just being a smartass because, lo and behold, it's -10. She looks at me bemused, demands a treat, casually mentions that she'll be working from home today and I get on my way to the office in yesterday's fleece socks, 2 scarves and the Monster jacket that I wear to look most like a black hole.

Come Spring, our commute changes. Suddenly, little miss has *ohsomuchSpringinherstep* at 4:45 in the AM. And she has a breakfast date so I better put some pants on and let her get about her business or she is going to get loud with me, sir. Now, lest you've somehow been deceived, know that I'm not terribly graceful when I'm wide awake and hydrated. At 4:45, I'm walking something like Lucy and talking something like Nell (story for another day). I started noticing she was having her boyfriends meet her downstairs and then returning to the house to have coffee with me before I left, kind've cute. At this point it was still too chilly to leave her out during the day so I bid her adieu by sidestepping her quick little gerbil tail into the fake ficus tree in the living room and sneaking out the front door.

Now that it's warm, however, we have a new pattern emerging. One that makes me look/feel crazier than any assessment you dear readers have already subjected me to personally. Now it's warm and she's single for the moment. And she wants to do everything together. She wants to wrap herself around my shins while I make coffee. Lays on top of whatever I put out to wear for the day. She squeezes into the bathroom while I shower and, frankly, my bathroom is just not big enough for both of us. She ends up sitting in the sink. Not optimal.

The major thing she wants to do together is go to work. As soon as I'm out the door, she sneaks out behind me (or she's been biding her time outside, knowing I would leave soon) and races in front of me toward the front gate. And it goes like this:

Me: Could you not? I know you're trying to beat me to the gate and you're not allowed on the train.
HC: WTF? Don't start with the attitude this early...you're the one right on my heels. You can't even handle it when I read over your shoulder and you're totally on my tail right now.
Me: Read over my shoulder? You mean when you sit on my hands WHILE I'M TYPING? I don't have time for this. Just stay here please.
HC: You're making us late.
Me: You forgot your blackberry.
HC: I fell for that yesterday, try again.

We are now outside the gate and I'm clearly trying to outpace my cat. Neighbors are watching me run away from my cat. I pause. Neighbor's nanny is taking her time buckling the kids into strollers and not-so-subtly cracking up.

Me: GO HOME
HC: I'm rolling around on sun-drench sidewalk (pictured at top). Walk around me.
Me: If I walk around you, you will find a way to be underfoot...you forgot your badge.
HC: I'm significantly more agile than you are and I have a meeting at 9:30 so you're going to need to stop harassing me...I went out of my way not to get fur in your coffee today.
Me: Yeah cause you stuck your FULLY EXTENDED PAW in my water glass last night. If it were still cold enough, I'd make a hat out of you.
HC: *Purring and writhing on sidewalk
Me: (Long overdramatic sigh) Fine.

I rub her belly, scratch her chin and put her back inside the garden. She is momentarily distracted by a bug and I am left to jog to the train before she comes out of bliss mode. Most passerbys seem to think it's charming that my cat does what many dogs do. By day four they'll be telling reporters how it was really so sad that I needed to be committed because I had a lot of fabulous hats and seemed quite friendly.

MRIIIII....Thought I Was Dying

It's a crass title for a post. I know it is. But that doesn't make it any less true and it somewhat explains what put a small stop in my big, flashy blog comeback. No, this is not an April Fool's Day joke.

A week and a half ago, my legs fell asleep under a table in Evanston while I was out to lunch with CVDJ. This had been happening with greater frequency since the new year but this time they never really came back. Pins and needles for the rest of the day. And night. And by Sunday, it was my arms too. My back ached but the feeling was more disconcerting than anything else. By Tuesday I was having a full battery of bloodwork at the doctor's office and the symptoms persisted. Thursday night I was chugging "berry smoothie" flavored barium for a CATscan. And then it was Friday. And I was still feeling the pins and needles along with pain in my neck and back.

Friday night I went in for an MRI of my brain and a CATscan of my "trunk." Looking. Looking for multiple sclerosis. Looking for tumors. Looking for something.

I would not consider myself a type A person. My version of "clean" is stacks. That includes dishes 6 days out of 7. Clean clothes could stay in the laundry basket for a week.

The one area of my life in which I have managed to be completely organized is my health. Vaccines, vitamins, dentists, antioxidants- I'm on it. If I'm in pain or if something is clearly "off" I am at the doctor. And I love my doctor, which helps. She knows I err on the side of hypochondriasis but maintains that "doubt can be as damaging as disease" so she listens. She's also not afraid to prescribe yoga and some Metamucil when she suspects it's stress. You're welcome for that.

Back to Friday. A lot of my symptoms added up to MS- numbness, woman of child-bearing age, limited exposure to sunlight/vitamin D deficient. This isn't a death sentence. In fact there is a pretty incredible stem cell treatment happening in Chicago but it's not a cakewalk and I was scared out of my mind. OUT of my mind. And if it's not MS than it is clearly cancer. A tumor is compressing my spine and I am dying. OUT OF MY MIND.

So I did everything they told me to so that my tests could be as accurate as possible. You have to drink the barium nastiness 24 hours ahead of the catscan which meant bringing it to work. We've had some incidences of lunch thievery at the office and I caught myself fantasizing more than once that a thief would mistake my "berry smoothie"for one of those Naked Juices. Then the whole office could get catscans and whoever had the GI tract that lit up like the Bellagio was our culprit. The 62nd floor would throw me a parade and it would end with cookie cake and chocolate milk (I couldn't eat for several hours in advance of the CT so more daydreams than usual climaxed with food).

Then Friday night arrived, I was ushered in for my MRI, I was on my own. Sweet technicians but I had no idea how LOUD those suckers are! I had to lay completely still for 30 minutes. The only break was for an IV at the 20 minute mark. Anything containing needles should not be considered a break. Unless it's acupuncture but I'll get to that later.

I did manage to keep myself entertained though. For thirty minutes I imagined they were using the radio frequency to actually watch my thoughts so I came up with the most out-there buisiness I could. And when the unicorns and 6th dimensions got old, I reverted back to Dr. Who and making whoopie. Same thing I do on a treadmill actually. I was cracking myself up and more than once had to have the stern version of my headvoice tell me to "Knock it off, kitten, you're gonna get us in trouble."

Catscan was much shorter, still with the IV. Only the IV fluid this time was special. It makes your insides warm. And my very sweet tech. was talking me through this and telling me what would happen first and how long it would last and then omgooooooodniiiight why is everything above my thighs and below my belly button so warm?!

Oh. IV fluid goes where the blood goes. My nose was still cold so I think we know where my body feels attention most appropriate. How embarrassing...blaming the MRI for that one. It did pass about a minute later. The things you learn.

In an effort to resurrect my night and cement her place in my perennial heart of hearts, Molly came to pick me up at the hospital and took me to the best Lebanese place this side of Beirut. Semiramis. BYOB, seated next to "the boys." The boys being the owner and his 3 best friends- all 50-70 year old soccer fanatics changing between English, Arabic and French. The Ethiopian waitress slapped one upside the head at one point because he apparently used a bad word in Arabic. I cannot overemphasize how much I love this place. Falafel and Shawarma Fatima salad and the fries covered in sumac with garlic paste that I would eat spoon-style, even if it meant forgoing a make-out with E. Cullen. Lucky for me, the more garlic I consume, the feistier Jaimeson gets (Greek thing) so that works out.

At the end of the night, I went to bed thinking about French pastries, Turkish coffee and funny old men who sketch restaurant patrons on the tablecloths every Friday. This is just as well because every single one of my tests came back clear as a bell. A loud bell that I am now ringing from the tops of tall buildings, of which we have many here in Chicago. Symptoms persist but potentially a pinched nerve from dancing to too much bad 90's music or a latent injury from silly shoes. I have my first acupuncture appointment on Monday and my mom comes in on Friday. I owe her a drink and we are going to the Violet Hour to get one.

Because I am not dying. I am very very very living.



*Living, but a little sad that my MRI did not apparently show 213% more genius than average. My doctor probably wouldn't tell me if it had though because she knows I'd prefer to go to Sweden and Budapest than sit in a lab explaining my genius to a bunch of scientists. Or talk about pie, whichever came out first.

** Just drop the WebMD and step slowly away from the computer if it is after 8pm.

*** Yes, I'm feeling a little cheeky but I'd like the moral of the story to be that you're your own best health advocate. Pay attention.

Senti-Mental

Does anyone out there get the Spring Blues? I know the winter blues are well-documented and, ahem, avoidable but what about Spring? Although maybe I should leave the seasons out of it. Because everything is adding up but I'm feeling a little less than the sum of my parts lately. The one pattern that does support this is that I am no different from other animals in that I retreat when I feel less than my best. I think we can all agree that I've retreated a bit from TKTC.

This all just started coming to a head when I was looking for something specific and decided to check myself out this time last year. The further I get from it, the more I can say I've never felt more supremely, accutely alive than I did for the bulk of 2008.

This time last year I was three months into hard core working out. Three months into allowing myself twitterpation from every angle. The weather was warming up and I was making lemon bars and expecting company and about to run off to Europe with my best friend in tow and my now-boyfriend waiting for me. A few months later, I was fully in a love love love free-fall years in the making and was then offered a shot to take a dream job in the big leagues.

And I love that man and we keep on winning. And I love my job and I get a cool new project by the week. And I can pay my bills and I go out for dinner and I sleep well at night and all whom I love are safe and well and...

I'm still finding myself kinda bummed and it's frustrating. Not in a sharp pain kind of way but in a dull sense of unease that sneaks up on me if I dare to be still for a second. And I think what's been missing? Making time to work out and making time to write. TKTC has fully become an identity for me on several fronts and yet I'm missing in action for weeks at a time. Unease is definitely the right word because I don't wear this feeling well when it comes over me. No panache whatsoever. It's bunchy in all the wrong places. Like when socks slip down in your sneakers and the feeling manages to make your butt look big.

So here it is. An RFP to myself. What shall I do to break on out? Anyone know where I'm coming from here? What works for you? I'm going to start with a workout and some dietary adjustments. Then I'm going to have a dinner party. Then I'm going to clean my house. Then I'm going to buy a plane ticket to Utah or something.

Dear Universe: WTF?

I don't much write about the kissing portion of To Kiss the Cook. I'm pretty visible so I reserve my bawdier personalities for commenting on other people's blogs. This was too crazy not to share though so... a rare Monday treat:

I have had someone in my picture on and off for awhile. If it were a light switch it would be mostly sultry dim and off. Jaimeson's one of my favorite people and I turned around one day and realized he was kind've getting to me. It was an interesting revelation and one I've struggled with a bit more than I like admitting. He's been referenced here before but the brief is this: does not live here, is Greek (this would be among the first things he'd tell you so I'm including it), tells great stories, travels constantly, is all lit up inside, thinks he might be Tom Baker, makes me feel alive, introduced me to some favorite Chicago spots and the small item of serious chemistry.

It's just not a good idea right now. I'm in the mood for a healthy relationship for the first time in 3 years. He is one of my very favorite people but not at this minute a candidate for that. I do so thoroughly adore him but no, not right now and I don't know when. The latest game plan was to see him Friday between his projects and I needed to bring myself to a simmer before then.

The Punchline
In an effort toward equilibrium, I decide to distract myself by making lists and I even got on a popular online dating site Thursday. This was quite easy. I like dates, I like new people= so far so good (had done it for a month as a deal with some girlfriends last summer). After perusing for a bit that night, I came across an attractive, older guy who still loved the music scene but had gone the MBA route, loves kids and was actively oriented. Wow. This guy is the grown-up version of the one I'm all hung up on. I emailed him. Carefully planned wit and relevance based on his profile. Sent.

It's when I'm about to close the window that I see I missed a few pics so I click through.

{Insert primal, gutteral shriek}

Pictured circa 1999: Internet-Boy with Jaimeson. College buddy style.

I just hit on one of his oldest friends. In a well-documented capacity. On an online dating site. WTF.

Let's save ourselves some time and skip that part.
Open question to the universe:
What exactly was the message here? Cause I know there has to be one. That is absurd and you are losing your subtle touch.
Do I tell him?? Can I take it back? Do I have to tell Jaimeson?!!

I tailspinned for the next day but finally settled on seeing J that night. Which was a blast, par for course. Violet Hour? Rocked my world. Although their whole "Place for a Secret Affair" tag? No secret here. I told him. Predictably, he was great. Tickled even.

"You know you met him right?"
"What? No I didn't. I remember people."
"Schuba's last summer"
[Ugh]
"You can't date him."
"He's like a grown up you- delightful."
"I'm a grown up me and No. Has he emailed you back?"
"No, I'm either not cute enough or he thinks I'm too young for him."
"You are universally cute enough. He may also have a better memory than you do. Hahahhahaha"

It was a good/great talk. It was a fun night. Nothing's changed and I'm moving forward with the healthy relationship hunt. But it did reaffirm the suspicion that we've probably not heard the last of My Dear. I stopped at the Dominick's by O'Hare after sending him off on the jet plane. Filled my cart with good things and old favorites and some falafel mix. Not just because it was vegetarian either.

This whole Law of Attraction thing is starting to freak me out.

Secrets Secrets

At the end of what has been a really fun month all around (in the dead of winter, who knew?) I’m afraid I have a nagging little piece that I can’t seem to keep to myself. I am not a dark person (you have picked up on this, yes?), but this needs to be said while life is in flux. Before it’s too late and I’ve had the chance to betray what’s to be said before I’ve said it. If you can help me then do… I need you and your answers today. Spitting it out:

I will never be okay as someone's dirty little secret. Never. I am not the other woman and have never knowingly been as much. It’s not dangerously sexy to me the way I figure it has to be to those that do it.

No, I’m not demanding a serious relationship. On the contrary, if everyone is on the same page, there are no misconceptions & no necessary lies to be told. I will very happily float through the special occasions, instant gratification and undiluted mischief.

It's once top billing is announced that everything changes.

I am completely unqualified for second place. I am not anyone's opening act or last minute fit-in and I will not wait in the wings as a cautious understudy. I do not exist to make anyone smile to themselves when #1 has left them lonely at the wrong time. No matter how blissful I am in ignorance, as soon as I realize someone else has taken the lead, I just feel deceived. And deceptive, for that matter. I could not bring myself to hurt someone the way I've been hurt. That's a fact and one of the very few areas in my life that I can't see myself ever rationalizing away.

But it’s more than that, it’s more selfish than that sounds.

The real reason that honesty is my policy? Because I am fucking indignant that I should ever be something to be ashamed of. I am a bright-eyed, bright enough girl. Easy to be with and passionate to a fault line. I am not to be hidden, I am not less than and I do not care about your public politics. While concessions could be made for the occasional “too much,” there is not a damn thing about me that says “not enough.”

No, I am not the kind of person to keep a secret. Not a subtle friend, a back-pocket colleague or someone for the sidelines. I am in the ring and in the game and fiercely loyal throughout. I don't apologize for the people I enjoy, the ways or reasons that I enjoy them and it is against my nature to manipulate this information for the sake of timing. I keep regrets to an absolute minimum the way responsible people pay down their credit cards- leaving a little just to keep themselves in check. I chase the light and if I'm into something, that's exactly where I am. That's who pushes my buttons, that's who occupies my thoughts. When I'm done, I say it and I leave before there’s no friendship left to salvage. None of this cake having/eating bullshit. I don’t need someone else to fall back on to get out of a situation that isn’t working. And this doesn't strike me as at all intrepid. It’s just and it’s fair and it should, frankly, be the standard.

*#2 is a buffer for when #1 isn't making the grade. Wouldn’t want to hurt #1, it's so complicated to break off #1 when there are so many people to be shared and, of course, #1 must be on top for a reason. I am not advocating the leaving or the breaking up of anything. I am advocating, “Leave me alone if you in any way belong to someone else. I don’t want your scarlet letter as a part of my monogram. You could likely turn around and give another red felt cut-out away down the line if that’s how things start out.”

Why am I so bewildered by a very basic reality? That people need back-ups, to protect their egos and ease their transitions. That's why, isn't it? I’m genuinely asking this time.

That’s why relief has to be brought in and dealt with on the side, under the table and with the lights off. This is basic. This is life. This is half of the marriages in this country and even more of the straight up relationships.

But this is not me and I am not a secret.


TKTC now returns you to your regular programming and thanks you for your patient patronage.

*Also, It has been brought to the "editorial department's" attention (Thanks B!) that I sound like I'm messing with a married guy.
Not. Even. Close. (Insert sigh of relief heard round the world)

Although I'm clearly not a fan of that either. In this case, I feel like I keep falling in mutual like with people who refrain from the whole story and as much as I enjoy them thoroughly as humans/friends, I just can't be there if there is a significant plus one on the scene. For all of the reasons stated above.

Addendum: All of the above was spurred via MySpace. Which is perhaps not the most accurate format for information translation. I stand by the sentiment, it just doesn't apply to me personally at this exact point in time. Just when I start to think "Wow, I'm really growing up. Look how grounded I am." Whoops...still a girl!

The Plot is Boiling Over

Have you ever tried to look at your life from an outsider's perspective and wondered if you weren't secretly out to get yourself?

That's kind of how I'm feeling lately. Like I keep making these choices that aren't in my best interest. Now I'm as hedonistic as the next person, but the short term puffs of fun don't always or even usually lead to long time glory and I'm feeling that now more than ever. More recently? I hate going to the dentist. Seriously. I know for a fact that I have my Dad's teeth so no matter how great a job the orthodontist did, how many times a day I brush or how diligently I floss (Ok, that one not so much), I WILL have cavities. I will ALWAYS have cavities. So what do I do as soon as I am off on my own? Avoid going at all costs. Do I really have cavities if no one is telling me I do?

Bad move. Piss poor move. Guess who's getting a root canal two days into 2008? You got it. My dentist said it is sheer dumb luck that it has not effected me thus far but that it needs to get done soon. Given that the sarcastic sort I hang with like the cliche "about as much fun as a root canal" I'm gonna guess I am just in for a treat.

So after that and some other fun news this week, what do I decide I need before going to the beach? Wax. I'm gonna leave it there.

Holy f*ck. Please excuse my language, I know it's not exactly Noel appropriate. But surely it is "test a woman's pain threshold" appropriate. I kicked the esthetician.

I didn't mean to but it just happened spastically. The hilarious part is that she didn't even flinch. "Happens all the time. That wasn't even all that hard." I don't think I've physically kicked anyone since the days of family hotel room sharing and even then I was asleep or pretending to be.

Deep breaths only get you so far and while this was not my first time under the warm, purple goo, it was my first time in awhile. Oooohhhh, NOW I remember why.

I'm no baby, but I will admit to laughing it off with a little mascara run off. Thank God for Mexico and quick healing skin cells.