God bless TV show DVD releases

Oh the sexual tension.

No matter how late I get home, I always have to have a half hour of cooldown. I have to watch mindless television or listen to music or watch a DVD to settle my brain and be able to sleep.

Lately Finn and I have a new ritual before bedtime. After we have watched TV together (he is quite taken with Buffy - he sits and stares, with his head cocked on one side quite adorably), I take him down to his bed, speaking to him softly. He knows that "na naes" means "get in your cage, pup", but he likes to muck around a little first.

I pull all of the bedding out of his cage, promise to wash it for him, put all back in neatly (while he tries to go in.. like I'm going to bed with him). I put his bed toy in there, and maybe a bottle for him to chew, and move him towards it, but he nuzzles me instead, paws my lap and tries to sit in it. He used to do this as a puppy, but as a fully-grown labrador, this isn't quite possible anymore. But he tries. And we have our cuddle and our nuzzle and he smothers me with love. How can you not melt when he stretches himself out in your lap and puts his paws over his nose?

I usually listen to my iPod before sleep when I climb into bed (and it also turns on at 7.25 in the morning to try and wake me gently) and try to sleep as soon as I get in there. But without fail, I always end up sleeping around an hour later than I would like to, or had originally intended to. I guess I always know I am sleeping at 11 when I aim for 10.

I'd love to come home late late and go straight to sleep, but that only really works on a 3am night (and that usually involves alcohol). Sometimes I'm tired from exercising or I've already fallen asleep on the couch, so bed is easy peasy.

But most nights? I have my mindless television cooldown.

Let it snow.

Snow snow snow.

When I was little and I asked my Dad if it would ever snow in my valley, he told me no. So I asked him how cold it would need to be. He hemmed and hawed and finally said, "I'd say under 3C. Maybe a little lower."

The past few weeks have given us 1 and 2C mornings. Frost. Frozen up car windows. Icy lawns. Who knows how low it dropped in the night.

But no snow. Sigh. Someday soon I'll live in a country with snow (after Australia, of course, as I hardly expect it there), and I'll probably get very sick of it. But for now? Snow is glorious.

The mornings have been quite nice, however. I like stepping outside in my coat, scarf and gloves, and pouring water all over my car. It feels like a real winter. This morning I let Finn out the back door to feed him and let him run around a bit, and there was the most beautiful sunrise. Of course, I was without my camera. He ran around a little bit and then barked and barked and barked until I put him back inside. He'd much rather follow me around the house from place to place (while trying to steal anything he can that has been left on the floor) than wander around outside on his own. At lunch today I'll let him hang out with me while I clean up the kitchen.

My life is finally back to normal, with just the 40 hours of work now that I've finished my night course. My exam last night went well, but you never know with these things. I need 75% to pass.. so we'll just have to wait and see if I am good enough to be certified as a bartender (woop!).

And then I can shake my way around the world, pouring cosmopolitans for the Aussies, champagne cocktails for the French and seabreezes to the Canadians. Or anything, really. I just think it's going to be really fun. I'm going to try and create my own drinks, as well.

Stay warm (or cool, depending on where you are!)

No, no, not my baby.

I lost Finn this morning.

I put him out to get ready at around 7.40. Out the back, as usual, so that he can do his business and get some air. I'd fed him inside this morning, because of the wind and rain, and let him follow me around the house like he does.

But at 7.55 when I went to let him in (holding a towel to dry him down), he wasn't out back. He wasn't responding to my call. He wasn't barking down the side. And the side gate was open - hold on. Open?

I dashed around to the front yard. The front gate. Was open, too. No dog. I ran out into the street. No dog.

Running back inside, I grabbed my coat and keys and cellphone and rang my sister in a panic.

KAT: Hi, me, Finn's gone.
BECKY: What?
KAT: She left the side gate open. The dog's gone. What do I do?
BECKY: Well by the time I get all the kids in the car..
KAT: What do I do what do I do? I'm out on the street and I can't see him.
BECKY: You'll have to get in your car and go look.
KAT: Who do I call, can I call someone?
BECKY: I don't know, I don't know.

Finn doesn't know where home is once he's out of the street. Finn doesn't come when you call. Finn is stupid in the most adorable way. He covers his nose with his paws when you scold him. He tries to jump up on the couch with you. He loves you more than anything and wants to show you it 24 hours a day. But when he gets out? he goes running and exploring and chewing and destroying.

I leaped in the car and did a slow small perimeter, ringing my boss at the same time. She sounded unamused, yet understanding. I don't think she understood that he isn't just a dog. He's my baby.

After about 10-15 minutes, I did another perimeter. I kept calling Becky and getting an engaged signal. I kept repeating to myself, over and over: "What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?"

BECKY: I've called John.
KAT: Oh.
BECKY: I tried Duncan, but John was the only one home. He's going to look, too.
KAT: Thank you.

I couldn't help the tears. I was beside myself. It was like I'd lost my child. All I could think of was that there were train tracks one direction, the motorway the other direction, and a hell of a lot of morning traffic in between. I drove and drove, in bigger circles, in small side streets, trying to drive slowly enough to catch him in a driveway or sniffing a tree. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

I came home again. I kept hoping that maybe he would come home. I checked our messages and nothing had been left. I couldn't remember if there was a phone number on his collar or not. I tried calling my parents, but the mobile was out of range, as they are in Venice right now. I then called the person I always call when I need someone. Tim.

He had lots of ideas. I wasn't really calling for him to come and help, but just to listen to me, to give me some rational thought. He calmed me down. He said he'd come help later in the day. He reminded me to call the pound, which I had thought of, but just hadn't pieced it together enough in my mind.

I forced myself to sound normal on the phone with Animal Control. They took all of my details and checked to see if he had been brought in already. They promised to call if he turned up. It was now 8.50. I had to go to work. On my way driving out of the street, John was driving in. We pulled up alongside each other.

KAT: No luck.
JOHN: Neither.
KAT: I've talked to the pound. They have all of my details, so I'll have to go and wait.
JOHN: Going to work?
KAT: Yeah.
JOHN: I'll keep looking and let you know if I find anything.
KAT: Thank you. Thank you.

I took one last slow drive through Pinny Ave, around through Burnton St and then on to work. My baby was gone. My companion at home. Who I talk to every moment that I'm home. Mostly it's just, "Get down, Finn," "Shut up, Finn," "Leave it, Finn." But there's also a lot of "Hello, baby," "No, baby," "Come here, Finny," and "I love you, my Finny."

I can moan to him about work and boys and friends and life and feeling the frustration of everything. He won't respond, but he'll put his paw on my knee and cock his head, and it just melts me. It makes everything better. I just want to cuddle him and tell him how much he means to me.

And one night when he found me sitting on the kitchen floor in tears, holding the phone after a bad conversation and a bad night, he licked me all over my face and put his head in my lap. He still tries to sit in my lap like he did when he was a baby, but he's far too big. So he ends up with his front half in my lap and rolls onto his back and wiggles his legs and snuffles at me.

Nothing matters when Finny is with me. He loves me no matter what I do, no matter what I say, no matter what mistakes and bad choices I make.

So at 9.05 when John called my work to say he had found him? And was bringing him home? It felt like my child was okay. Like my best friend was fine. That he was wet and muddy and stupid, but he was home. And all I wanted to do was go home and hug him, then scold him, then hug him some more, and put him in his cage to be warm, but I can't do that yet. But in an hour or so? I'm going home to see him and check on him and baby him.

Because even though I know I love him to pieces, and I'd hate to lose him, I never thought about how much it would hurt until this morning. I couldn't think of anything but him running onto the train tracks, chewing something and being hit. Or being hit running across Oxford Tce. Or running into the river. Or, or, or..

I never want to lose him again.

Strum strum la la

An EP excuse post is up.. well I don't really have excuses. But it's to let you know that I still love you all for checking in! And that I'm still going.. it's just a slow process.

I'd love to say that you record and BAM! the EP is ready for sale, but it's not so easy when you're doing it all yourself.

And I'm still writing! in lunch hours and on Sundays. From next weekend I'll be a lot more flexible.

xx

Ice, ice baby

I knew I'd sleep in this morning.

I started my bar course last night. It was fun, but the tutor was one of those guys that would be neat to hang out with, but working for him would bring a constant string of "OMG-what-did-I-fuck-up-now-he'll-yell-at-me-oh-no" thoughts into my head.

We learned about Scotch, Whiskey, Whisky, Gin, Rum, Tequila, Bourbon, Tennessee Whisky and Vodka, among others. The tasting was fun (drinking in class is now the only way to really LEARN in my books!), except the dark Rum made me well, retch.

But! I can now make you a White Russian, Black Russian (two versions), Tequila Sunrise, Vodka Sundowner or a Seabreeze. Go me!

Getting home at 10.45 was not really much fun, though, as I felt compelled to claim back some of my evening by watching Mad About You, then channel surfing while giving my cat a snuggle, and eating tuna on crackers. Good plan. Or not.

And then this morning? Hello 1 degree temperatures. Hello frozen car (the auto windows took several goes to open, they were frozen shut at the bottom seals). And when my hands touched the steering wheel I gave a little moan of discomfort before getting the bright idea of putting my gloves on.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. The gloves that had been in my car all night.

I didn't think my hands would ever hurt like that inside gloves. But I was wrong.

Has winter always been this cold? Or is this a reverse effect of global warming? While our northern hemisphere friends are getting a warmer than average June, are we going to get a below-freezing winter? Will it actually snow in Wellington?

I'm not adverse to the idea.. as long as work is cancelled.

Misunderstood

I'm a special kind of crazy...

There are a lot of misconceptions about OCD. Sufferers on television or in film are generally obsessed with cleanliness. They turn light switches on and off 17 times. They go in and out of doorways. They always come across as nervous, anxious or twitchy.

While these things do affect OCD sufferers, we're not all like that. There are so many symptoms and so many degrees.

I do not fuss over cleanliness or order everywhere. Anyone who has been to my bedroom will agree with me there. However, therapists agree that my bedroom is my sanctuary, and that I see it as the one room where I can let go. Throughout the rest of the house there may be clutter, but the clutter is in piles in tidy lines. The food in the fridge is organised and not touching. My paperwork at work is filed and lined up perfectly.

I must eat my M&Ms/jellybeans individually, and in colour order. I either go from darkest to lightest, or alternate the colours, with the colours repeating equally (ie. if I have more brown than anything else, I will repeat that more).

I hate stepping on cracks. I do it, but I hate it. If they are small tiles then damn, I'll just do it, but if I can avoid it..

I compulsively check that my car is locked, even 3 times in a row. I will go out at lunchtime and before bed and check. I will drive home to check my dryer isn't on. I will check every window in the house at least twice.

If someone taps a rhythm, I feel compelled to tap it back myself. If I don't, I hear it in my head for the afternoon.

I have to read a magazine or newspaper in order. Newspapers standard, magazines/TV guide backwards.

I'm a hoarder.

If at a fair, museum or amusement park, I must go through everything in order, so as not to miss anything, much to the frustration of whoever is with me.

My files at work are labelled with letter/number sheets. I have to pull the labels from the sheet in a certain pattern.

I prefer to take the majority of tasks at work myself, as the idea of someone doing it a different way is very unsettling.

I have to cross off the days from the calendar each day.

I am at my worst when I am nervous. My OCD brings with it Compulsive skin picking, which increases when I am tired or anxious about something. I often go into a slight trance-like state while I am doing it, and only really see the damage when I come back around. I often do it without thinking or realising I am doing it.

Hell, I was just doing it then.

But in general, I don't come across as anxious or nervous most of the time. I'm quite calm and laid back. I don't wash my hands 100 times a day. I don't force my obsessiveness on others. I'm not at all punctual. I don't fuss if someone breaks plans or messes up my kitchen.

I'm just a little off-kilter. A little nutty at times. Ah, I'm just me.

All over update

..but the songs of my life will still be sung..

My life seems to be in a strange loop at the moment. I'm repeating situations and am back in places I was 18 months ago. The only thing that is steadily changing is my music career, my writing choices, my ideas of what happiness is and will be.

I try to stray away from making this blog seem too dramatic or contrived, but I find myself with a lot of deep thoughts lately. I'm at a turning point, I guess, and the only way I know how to express that is to write down all of these moments where I'm working things out.

I guess what I'm saying is: I'm working things out. I apologise for posts that come out sounding like a highschooler's journal (that special one she keeps under her mattress).

Musically, I am doing well. The EP is very close to being available, and the launch party is being planned. I sort of let things slide for a while there, as I'd spent so many months working for it, I just really needed to step back. It really is great, and it spurs me on to record an album (which is a possibility for the end of the year, by the way). I'm worried if I take too much longer, people are going to lose interest..

Work is tolling, emotionally and physically. I feel like I'm being pulled in several directions at the moment, and my management and I seem to have very different priorities. I know that I don't plan on being here forever, so I should just bite my tongue.. but some days it's harder than others.

A few months ago, I started getting a little concerned about my ever-growing figure and not being able to fit into my favourite clothes. This lead me to SparkPeople, a really amazing site, and I am using it to keep track of everything. It's harder to exercise in the winter, as I am a runner and most evenings are bitterly cold and dark, but I am looking at swimming more and using a jump rope, as well. It's hard to bounce back to how I feel I should look, when I'm not dancing anymore or taking the time to walk places. I'd love it to be summer, and I'd run every day. I'll keep you updated on my progress. My goal is to look the best I can by the time I head over to the US. Slow and steady wins the race.

My folks are in Nice, 3 weeks into their whirlwind tour of Europe+Egypt, and having a great time. Ma loves to call me from wonderful places and brag (it's something I'm known to do as well), and her last call was from a cruise down the river Seine, on their way to Moulin Rouge for a show. I really hope they're getting every experience they can out of this trip.

Daniel still hasn't found a job, but is getting closer. He has a few good interviews lined up, so I am crossing my fingers for him. I want him to be happy, and he hasn't seemed to be since the move. Renee is doing well, but still hasn't secured anything permanent, either. So send them good thoughts.

Finn, my new best friend, is scared of the vacuum cleaner. He attacks it like he is protecting us from it, while not noticing that we're the one holding the long metal tube that he is trying to maul. It's a fun sight. He is very attention-hungry at the moment, and has taken a great liking to the empty plastic milk bottles that we leave out for recycling. I wouldn't be surprised if they found plastic in his stomach one day.



Hi to my new readers. Thanks for popping in!

Karma is a bitch

I am on bed rest. I have some food "arriving" in an hour, so until then I am lying here sighing to myself and keeping my sore head still.

This should amuse you until I can post again:

http://www.evanwashere.com/StolenSidekick/



I hope he gets it back, as he rightfully deserves.

xxx
--K

She knows

I'm totally in control.

I have things in control.

I know where I am and what I want.

I think I'm in control.

I think I know what I'm doing.

I'm not totally sure what I want.

What control?

I don't know what I'm doing.

I'm making mistakes.

I'm making some of the best mistakes I've ever made.