Who's Jealous Now?

So much for keeping up with this blog as I'd hoped. My bad. Zaki and I went on our first vacation in about 15 years (yes, that's longer than we've been together) and discovered paradise in Hawaii. That pretty much ruled. And ever since returning I feel like I've been running at full speed to catch up. But today Mother Nature gave me a snow day from work and I know that if I don't update my blog, Emi may never forgive me. So here it is.

I could write about Hawaii, but I don't want to make anyone jealous.

Oh, who am I kidding? I want to make everyone jealous! That's why I'm sending photo Christmas cards this year with a prominently displayed picture of us in front of a beach sunset. I haven't sent out physical cards in a few years, but I had to make an exception this year. I'm always hearing about other people's vacations and fun and dammit, I don't know when I'll get another one so I'm taking the full brag potential this time around. But if you don't get one of these cards, don't feel too bad. I went for the expensive option (like I said, I don't know when I'll get another chance) so I only ordered a limited number. But if you'd still like to feel jealous of me, check this out:

That's right - we're pirates. And I'm holding a bird in my hand. And that bird is saying "Hey Boss!" It was as awesome as you think it is.

Anyhoo, Hawaii was amazing, nuff said.

When I got back to the real world, I found myself organizing a surprise baby shower with about a week and a half notice. Not to toot my own horn, but it ruled. I am a great party planner, at least when I want to be. The new mama was totally surprised and called it the best party she's ever been to. And unlike some people I know, she's not the type to lie about that. I think. Regardless, it ruled and I'm proud of it.

Unfortunately, right about the same time as I was planning this party at my little condo, I was dealing with a feud with my cat. For those of you who haven't met my cat, let me tell you a little bit about him. His name is Moby. He comes from a Jerry Springer home and is very lucky to live where he is. His name came to him cuz we thought it sounded good and fit him. However, turns out it is two-fold, cuz he's a dick. We love him, but he's a dick. Another nickname we have for him is Jack. As in Ass. He's totally snuggly and loveable one minute and the next he's a monumental pain in the buttocks. You may be saying "Uh, yeah, sounds like a cat." Don't sass me. I've had cats my entire life. No one is more familiar with feline behavior than I am. But this cat is a jerk. I love him but he's a jerk. Case in point:

When we got back from Hawaii, Moby was pissed. Not cuz we were back but because we had been gone in the first place. We didn't have anyone staying overnight with him this time so he only had visitors a time or two each day. So he was mad at being lonely. He was also (understandably) mad that his box wasn't cleaned in its usual timely manner. So we returned to a bunch of litter that was kicked out of his box and had been tracked all over the house. I promptly vacuumed (sorry neighbors, since this was at 10:30pm) and assumed no further problems would ensue. Wrong.

Long story short, Moby has now taken to obsessively pawing at the side of his litter box, the floor around the box, anything that happens to be around his box and most problematically, the floor of the litter box. He kicks it out and then proceeds to track it around the place. We thought maybe he wanted all new litter - no change. We thought maybe he wanted a new box - still he shows his OCD. Would a new box with a flap door slow him down a bit? Sure wouldn't. So there is a constant argument between Moby and (mostly) Z about how Mobes needs to stop being a jackass. We're here for crying out loud. Moby's not having it. We've made an appointment with the vet to make sure that there isn't anything more serious going on, but given the fact that he continues to use his box successfully in addition to the 97 times an hour he goes in just to kick litter around, I don't think he's sick. If nothing else, maybe our vet can suggest some way to calm him down.

And then we're leaving for Boise as soon as we get word that my sister-in-law is going into labor. So even if we find a solution, we're just going to psychologically damage him more in a week or two. Good times.

How did I start this? Oh yeah, so I'm trying to prepare my 690 square foot condo for a lovely baby shower, but I've got cat litter constantly under foot. And did I mention that my vacuum cleaner is crap? I would say it sucks, but that's the problem - it doesn't. So I'm running around the place, rolling the dustbuster all over the floor, trying to clean. It was a good time. Fortunately, once people started showing up for the party, Moby freaked out and hit in the box spring, as he is wont to do. So no more litter. Until everyone left, that is.

Suggestions? Anyone? Seriously, it's not fun. Earlier today Z told Moby to come over and fight like a man by wrestling him. I'm not honestly sure who would win that battle, but I'm inclined to put my money on the cat. I mean, just look at his crazy eyes: