I can't decide if I should be more decisive

I should have blogged by now. Someone who should probably win "giver of the year" award offered to actually make me a keyboard. Isn't that just wholesome goodness right there? I am using a PC keyboard and as much as it's fully functional, I hate it. Although blogging is not something to be loathed, I am willing to put an emotionally nasty spike in this blog, as it has come to my attention I am choking on the massive bitter pill I have swallowed. This is the main reason I haven't blogged. I begin and it slowly becomes a vortex of negative energy that is sure to consume everything positive. So, if this comes across as one huge bitch rant, I don't care. You were warned and plodded forth in total disregard.

I bought a new keyboard from ebay. It's the wrong one. After all the questions and such, it's the wrong fucking board. I'm getting another that does in fact fit. Soon. Once I am over my little stubborn I hate getting things that don't fit snit. Bear with me or ask for my address so you can send it to me after MAKING IT. Yeah, I'm talking to you. :D

I am in the process of planning my road trip. This means acquiring a new vehicle which won't chew a huge hole in my pocket every time I hit the pumps. I don't want to hear about gas prices and the impracticality of planning a road trip. I don't care. I am going to figure out where else there is to live besides a fucking blast furnace. Don't remind me that I did it to myself. If I could, I would kick myself in the stomach daily. :F I like Scions. The xB model rules. I found one, made an offer, decided against it and I am back on the search. I am finding it impossible to deal with the price of a used vehicle that looks like a toaster. However. I have researched the SHIT out of a million cars. Scion xB's fit my needs perfectly and are bad ass. So I am getting one. I'm just going to have to get over the price. Once I have one in my grubby little hands, it will be a lot easier to accept.

Mutter has been sprung loose to continue her days as an uninhibited wild, albeit sterile, animal. There is something about that which warms my heart and soul. If I could just find someone willing to cut my woman parts out for under $100 I would even be willing to sacrifice the top third of my left ear. I'm. Not. Kidding. The kittens? They are all fixed and waiting for new homes. As much as I don't want to get into the story, I'll summarize: Everyone was trapped and waiting for the big (envious) snip. The plan (which had been gone over thoroughly and agreed to about a million times) was in motion. A massive, incredibly frustrating, not to mention DENSE stumbling block appeared in the path. Back under the porch was not an option. I'm not worried about finding them homes as much as I am worried about my unending urge to help people with their issues as it usually ends up being MY issue. I'm learning. Slowly and painfully. Two of the kittens are spoken for. This leaves two left. I don't know many people who can resist a kitten. Their cuteness takes care of about 50% of the problem. No matter how much I want to, I cannot hate them for that one reason.

Jimmy is swimming. For those of you who know Jim, this is nothing short of the resurrection. We practiced and practiced and I finally got him in on his own by squishing an empty clear wide mouthed plastic bottle, filling it with treats and throwing it into the water. Will swim for food. Awesome. There are people telling me I shouldn't have to feed him for swimming and he should simply do it. To all those people, here is what I have to say: Fuck you. Fuck you in the most ghastly way your imagination can conjure up. If I have to give him a treat every single time he goes into the water until the day he dies, I will do it with a smile on my face. 1. Without the usual hours of walking every day, he is getting old and withdrawn fast and I can't take it. Yes, we walk early in the morning, but it simply isn't enough. 2. Who the fuck cares what anyone thinks about my relationship with the James. Especially when it has a chiding undertone. Take your audacity and use it where it counts. That would be anywhere but here. 3. Jimmy swimming? Come on, you can't beat that. Just wild. 4. Show me what you have accomplished with your dog. Make it better than Jim. Then we might talk. If I am feeling up to it. So we probably won't.

Tabitha is also swimming. Like a champ! We are thinking about training her for the Olympics. She's SUPER competitive, racing anyone who assumes they can take her. They usually can't. When a person proves to be especially slow, she actually gives them a head start. Good sports rule. She does a Superman right off the edge. It's fantastic to watch. This is the same puppy who used to hide behind the bushes and shudder any time she so much as thought she heard the water splash. The same puppy who would rather run into moving traffic than walk across a wet (not a puddle, simply wet) segment of cement. It makes me want to pump my clenched fist in the air and yell something like GIRL POWER. But I don't want to come across as some bra burning, ultra feminist, neo-nazi so instead I scream things like GET THAT! and YAY! with about the same affect.

Mr. F and I are fine. WE are fine. I am decidedly not. I can't take living here any more. It only took 4 months of being inside to make me snap. I am climbing the walls and gnawing on my own extremities in hopes to cure my need for outdoor stimulation. I have to make a decision and I am stuck because for once in my life I feel true affection for someone. It's interesting (and a slight mocking undertone if you will) that I am in the exact opposite position of where I usually look at the outside world from. The irony has not escaped me. He is stuck with a completely insane girlfriend. I'm hoping the trip helps. I don't know how it couldn't so I am white knuckling the thought of it and it is continuing to keep that one shred of sanity I have left in place. Go sanity.

Mr. F caught a Mediterranean House Gecko that looks exactly like this (size and all, how cute is that?!) while cleaning the carpets, and made the mistake of showing me. As I am now looking for ANYTHING to do, I stuck it in a tank and I am keeping myself busy by caring for and observing it. It's fun and allows me to cultivate bugs. We all know how much I enjoy a fruit fly culture. It's the gift that keeps giving! Have you ever watched a mealworm pupate and then morph into a beetle? No? Try it, it's bizarre and totally worth the time. I might even blog it. Seeing the futility of trying to convince me to let him go (and probably noticing the grim dead pan stare of a captive replaced with a look of impish interest), Mr. F offered up the name M.D.. It has nothing to do with his medical degree. Once I am done looking at him (read: once the trip is planned and about to be executed) I will let him get back to being his intrusive non native but highly adaptable self back in the (not so) great outdoors. Until then, he's going to be stuck too. I like relating, I have been told it's healthy. Besides, he'll understand just how rad getting free food and high humidity is once released. But alas, it will be to late. *sigh* It's the old we never know what we have until it's gone trick. Gecko style. Maybe he can go sell car insurance or something.