Someone stop the world.

With everything that happened this week, I never got around to writing about, well, anything.

I had a great birthday. Jacquelyn got me screen-printing equipment, which is pretty awesome. Ethan and I are going to make some shirts today actually. I think, if I come up with some good ideas, may sell some homemade t-shirts on Etsy. Along side my sock monkeys, perhaps? And maybe photography prints? I dunno.

We also went out and saw the new Harry Potter movie, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I was a little miffed about the lacking last battle but otherwise, it was great. I think they captured that awkward-teenage courtship/first relationships energy quite well. Uncomfortable and hilarious. What more can you ask for?

Please don't make me wait two more years for the first installment of Film 7? Please?

Afterward Jacquelyn and I went to dinner with were_duck and sasha_feather. Our waitress bought me a beer (one of many that I drank and probably had too many) and was the OMGSQUEEST waitress. Her voice was tiny and squeeky and she was just really way too happy about just about everything.

P.S. Fried plantains! Where have you been all my life?

After several months of hardly reading (I think I read maybe a book per month in the first six months of the year) I just started my fourth book in the last two weeks. I'm 3/4 done with a reread of A Game of Thrones, I read Look Me in the Eye, a memoir about living with Asperger's written by the older brother of Augusten Burroughs. It was pretty hilarious and fantastic and true. I also burned through The Knife of Never Letting Go. HOLY FUCKING CLIFFHANGER! After which, I immediately devoured my birthday present from were_duck, Running with Scissors. I wanted to read it after I read his brother's book to get some perspective on the overlapping parts. Not much overlapped, but it was a pretty good book nonetheless.  I didn't find Augusten to be a very insightful or introspective writer.  He basically describes what happens and it's all surface.  There's no real depth there.  The book was entertaining anyway.  I'm just curious what his fictive works are like.

I've been digging memoirs more and more as I get older.

After a long taxi ride, a British history writer seriously counseled me to write a memoir of my crazy family and childhood years. I don't know if I could do it an any way that I would feel comfortable with. I suppose there are some humorous moments, but I don't think there's anything that could balance out the pretty-fucking-terrible.

Jacquelyn's labmate Jeremiah, who has become a pretty good friend to us, is leaving for grad school in Wyoming next week, so we went to his farewell party. Now, let me state, I never did the typical college udnergrad thing. I didn't go to keggers and play beer pong and flip cup. Neither did Jacquelyn. So, when this sociological opportunity arose, we did not shun it, but fully embraced it. (Participant observation, mofos!)

Thus, I found myself the olderst person by far at a party chugging plastic cups of Coors Light. Most of the attendees were in the 19-23 range, but one guy brought his 15-year old brother (who looked younger than my 14-year old son). I drank WAY too much and was probably the drunkest I've been since I was 20. I could barely walk to the cab to take us home (neither of us were in any condition to drive) and when I layed down on my bed, the room spun like a top and not being able to make it to the bathroom, promptly vomited into a laundry basket.

The next morning, suffering from a disgusting hangover, I had a big greasy breakfast, a scramble of eggs and gyro meat and feta, and a pineapple malt. IT IS THE CURE FOR WHAT AILS YOU! 

Later in the day, we celebrated Ethan's birthday.  Jacquelyn made him one of his favorite dinners and a banana cake with a peanut butter middle layer and a white chocolate frosting.  It was awesomely decadent and Ethan loved it.  On top of his custom Chuck's (which take 4-6 weeks!) we got him Resident Evil 5 and a bunch of miscellaneous little things.  He had a good time.  And now he's fourteen.  My god.

And then Figaro left us on Wednesday. He was basically comatose and unresponsive when we took him to the vet and had him put to sleep. He was so close to the end it didn't take long at all. And then he was gone. A big hole in our lives where he used to be. Jacquelyn is devastated. He was her best buddy for so long, slept next to her every night for seven years. I'm getting by okay, but keep having these little thoughts, like this is the last time I will sweep up his hair off the floor, or this is the last time I'll be cleaning his pee out of the litter box. I find myself still looking for him, wanting to fill his food dish, getting his pills ready.

What really bothers me is that there are people who don't understand why someone would get horribly upset when a pet dies, or the people who think animals don't have personalities, or are somehow less-than-sentient. Maybe we take it too far, but my pets are family members. They, like humans, are living, breathing miraculous creatures with intelligence and emotions and will. Their lives should be as celebrated and their passing as mourned as any humans.

kiwikat  has been a great friend through this.  The day after, she stopped by and brought us a nice lambic and then had us over for dinner last night.  She made one of Jacquelyns all-time-favorite comfort foods - mashed potatoes.  We chatted, geeked out about books and music.  She also made a cherry key lime pie which was so good that descriptions of it have been redacted from the Bible for being too lascivious.

There is no real thread through this, I think, no overarching theme.  It was just moments from a couple weeks of my life.  I have nothing profoud to add.