Every time I go to write a new post, I remember that something terrible has happened in the world, and I stop.
Yes, this has been going on for years, but I’ve just stopped. That’s right, I’ve stopped stopping. While I harbour no delusions of my voice being a particularly important one, it is a unique one, and using it makes me feel nice, and that’s exactly as many reasons necessary for me to pick up a new hobby.
Why now? I’ve recently switched jobs, and my new gig does not involve as much writing, and my clever little puns are being abandoned all willy-nilly. They’re gone now. You’ll never know if they were actually clever at all. But they were and I can’t prove it.
There might be more coming soon. Or there might not be. My creative output is inconsistent when it exists in public at all. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I’ve booked the day off, and I’m celebrating with a leisurely day: a hot bath, and a movie tonight (Star Wars, because Deadpool hasn’t opened yet) followed by dinner at a nearby pub. I’ve also hidden my birthday from Facebook notifications, and I haven’t made an effort to notify the people around me that the ol’ odometer (OLDometer – ha!) was about to flip. Why? Am I becoming increasingly hermit-like as I age? Am I having a mid-life crisis?
Maybe, and no. Beneath my layers of sage wisdom (lol) and child-like whimsy (I am, like, SO random!) lurk some deep-seated superstitions, mostly involving not poking the sleeping beast that is a happy life. And that’s really what I’m living right now, so rather than tooting my birthday horn, I’d rather toot a regular everyday horn and enjoy the things I always enjoy and thank whichever lucky stars aligned to let me feel like almost every day is my kind-of birthday.
Work is a huge part of that. When I was little and was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always answered with “teacher”. I’m pretty sure I meant to say “Twitter”, though. That was pretty soothsayerish of me. I didn’t book today off because working on my birthday would have been a drag – I really just wanted to sleep in.
And living in a house that floats on the ocean is a sweet deal! Since I love canoeing, staring at ducks, and diagonal wood panelling, it’s my personal dream come true.
Sharing this house with Scott is a dream come true-er, too. It’s one thing to come up with fun ideas like buying a house on the ocean to live in, or adopting a second cat (not all ideas have to be wacky to be brilliant), but to turn to the person next to you and know they’re totally on board (sometimes literally)? That’s solid gold. When I was a teenager, a really fantastic adult in my life told me that the only way I’d get by in life was to find a rich guy dumb enough to marry me. I’m not the type to gloat, but I keep that memory around exclusively for the purpose of gloating. Wrong on all counts, awful adult from the past.
Come to think of it, I spent too much of my childhood fielding dumb questions and even dumber remarks. And here I am now, looking forward to just another day.
As always, my resolution is to have no resolutions. And since I’m almost a month late in declaring this, I’ve done an incredible job of sticking to them (yay Brandy)!
I quietly resolved to ride my bike to work on my first work day of 2016. On the eve of that day, I threw out my back in a mysterious accident (backcident?). New Year’s resolutions and I are not friends, and I’m not looking to become friends with them.
That said, I’m hoping to update more frequently. Or ever! Either works. I tend to post my random thoughts on Facebook, but I think this is a better place. This thing belongs to me and my name is all over it. It makes sense to make it more mine. But who am I? It’s been so long, right? It’s time for a new paragraph.
I’m Brandy (hi, it’s me)! I like cats and downloading apps that promise to make me more productive. I share a cool house – it floats on the ocean! – with a guy who is great and two cats who are cats. I have a job that I love, and while it’s not a secret it’s also not a hot blogging topic. I would say I’m living the dream, but a) I hope I’m not obnoxious enough to actually type out those words intentionally and b) I never dreamed this far. I would mostly say I’m happy, which isn’t a very deep well of writing inspiration, but ¯_(ツ)_/¯ I’ll see what I can muster.
My boyfriend and I are lucky enough to have two cats, and the two-ness of that statement is a recent thing. Max has been our buddy for over four years, and adopting him was a dream come true. He’s friendly, chilled out, really silly, and super fluffy. When we introduced him to our new floating home, it took him a whopping 24 hours to get used to it, and he’ll spend hours sitting on the deck, staring at the water like a wistful sailor. Here are some quick Max facts:
He loves bananas. The day before Max came home was the last day I was able to eat a banana in peace.
He’s probably a Viking. We don’t know his true genetic makeup, but I’m sure he’s got a lot of Norwegian Forest Cat in him.
I once saw him gobble up an entire (abandoned) spiderweb. So he’s not perfect.
It became obvious that Max was lonely. After careful consideration, we brought home a Hershey. Here are my favourite Hershey facts:
She loves Hawkins Cheezies, so we have a lot in common.
If she had a catchphrase, I think it would just be “What?!”.
She likes to bite my hair, right at the scalp, and pull as hard as she can, and that’s her version of “good morning”. She’s a bit of a freak.
How to force two cats to love each other
Thanks to our impeccable taste in adopted kitties, solid advice from the internet, determination and tons of luck, we made it through a few weeks with two very good catfriends. The BC SPCA has some solid tips for introducing a new cat to your existing cat (http://www.spca.bc.ca/pet-care/care-behaviour/cats/introducing-your-new-cat-to.html), and we followed them as closely as we could. The only advice I could add to this consists of two words:
We knew we had a huge cat on our hands, and we specifically looked for a small cat to be his pal. This wasn’t some selfish aesthetic desire; Max has been bullied by medium cats, and he’s played well with small cats before, so we thought a tiny feliney would be less of a threat and more to his taste.
Before becoming a multicat household, I daydreamed about two cats cuddling, following each other around, grooming each other. What I didn’t expect was literal copycat behaviour.
I catch them doing this all the time. The fact that Hershey is less than half the size of Max makes this whole thing impossibly funny to me. But don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of cuddling, and grooming, and wrestling.
I can’t say that everyone should get two cats, or that it’ll be this easy – I know a few fightin’ fluffsters out there. But it was definitely the best kitty decision we’ve made.
This is the second part of a totally doomed 2-part post. Check out Part 1!
Why you should never write a blog post about making candy corn
I swear, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I thought it just wasn’t a very popular thing to do. After all, only a certain type of person even eat candy corn, much less is inclined to make it. And of that tiny sliver of humanity, I imagined yet fewer consider writing about it.
I had no idea writing part 1 of a 2-part blog post about making your own candy corn could kill your blog for almost a year.
I’m blaming the post itself, and not my pre-existing inconsistent blogging habit, even though that has been well demonstrated here. As I like to say in professional correspondence: LOLOLOL.
Candy corn is OVER.
I’m not saying I’ll never try to make my own candy corn ever again, but I am saying that I haven’t attempted it since last documenting it. I’m not denying the fun times I had with it; I had plenty. But I’ve spent the past almost-year having other kinds of fun.
Other kinds of fun?
I’m torn between wanting to spend all my free time making candy, the undeniable draw of the outdoors, and how much I love sleeping. In the past year, I’ve nursed my bicycle back to road-readiness and learned to swim, and Scott and I have welcomed both a canoe and a second cat into our lives. For the most part, candy-making has taken a backseat to canoeing adventures in Burrard Inlet, riding my bike to the pool, or just staying in bed all day watching Max and Hersey wrestle.
I think these are all good decisions. I’ll get into more detail about all of these fabulous decisions, but first: closure.