An Ode to My Little Plague.



Gracie Lu. Plauge.



I live with a 12 pound, 4 legged, gray and white tabby plague named Gracie. And I say plague with love.

She’s klutzy.

She’s bossy.

She pokes you with tiny daggers of death.

She squeaks and sings at you with what I am pretty sure is foul language in the language of cat.

She’s the most adorable thing you will ever meet.

And by meet, I mean in the 8.7 seconds she allows you to hold her before she has to GET DOWN NOW! It’s akin to holding a rodeo bull with claws.

This morning she was particularly plague-y.

I have to be at work at 6am Sunday mornings. It’s ungodly, I know, but hey! It’s a living. Unfortunately due to my weeknight work schedule, my body just doesn’t want to sleep until 1 or 2am. Any suggestions for a 9pm bedtime let me know. I’m not crazy about drugs, and vodka, while delicious, isn’t the solution either.

Tonight was no different; I finally fall asleep at 2am.

2:45am. I’m awakened by a plastic bag rattling, followed by cat bodies tearing around the bedroom. Then blessed silence. I fall asleep again.

3:30am. A tail is slapping me in the face. I open an eye to find the little darling sitting above my head on the headboard, with no real purpose other then to smack me in the face with her tail. “Yes?”, I ask. “MEEOOOOOORRWWW” she yells at me. I roll my eyes and proceed to pull the covers over my head.

4 am. More bag rattling. Pause. I fall back to sleep, within 30 seconds there is more bag rattling. After 5 minutes I can’t take any more, and turn on the light. There she sits next to a Target bag, batting around her favorite mousie that she has placed into said Target bag. I grab it and throw it into the hallway which then Gracie chases after merrily. 5 minutes later after I have fallen asleep again, she’s back. The mouse is back in the bag. The bag is rattling, and I’m staring at the ceiling, calling out “Why Baby Jesus?! WHY?!”

And because it is now 4:10am, Baby Jesus doesn’t answer because even he gets to sleep.

I crawl out of bed again, the mousie go flying into the hallway, Gracie goes tearing after it and the bag goes in the trash. Which, let’s be honest, should have been there in the first place.

4:45am I am awaken once again by Gracie, meowing and carrying on. It sounds as if she is dying. Being the concerned mother that I am, I swear and ask “now what?!” The bed has now become a jungle gym, and she is bouncing over me, meowing loudly. She’s begging, and pleading and being overly dramatic. Yes, cats are dramatic. Now I’m assuming she’s hungry, and bad mother that I am forgot to check the food bowl last night. So I get out bed, again, head to the kitchen and find the bowl still full with kitten kibble.



Gracie prefers down comforters and pillows to posh cat beds.



Grumbling, I stagger back to the bedroom, where I now find THAT LITTLE BEGGER IS HAPPILY CURLED UP IN THE STILL WARM SPOT THAT I HAD JUST VACATED.

I realized, I was in an episode of Simon’s Cat and didn’t even know it.

oh boy!

So as part of my Living Audaciously project, I wanted (ok, needed) to take a vacation that was mine alone. I love traveling, and the past few years I've been taking vacations with my parents. I love my parents. And I love traveling with my parents. No really, I do! (Remind me to write about Lord of the Rings marathons). We have a great trips up north to God's Country (Up Nort' dere, ya know) and the best time playing board games, cribbage and just general hanging out.  But there is always something about traveling with your parents that makes you feel like you've gone back in time about 15 years.

I've realized that I need to have my own adventure. I have tired several times in the past to go somewhere, anywhere, but something come up and plans have to be canceled. I almost made it to Twins Spring Training in Florida this year, but waited too long to book the trip. Next year, as God as my witness I will go, pending any unforeseen emergency (just have to add that disclaimer).

Which brings me to the point of this post.

I did it. I finally did it.

I pressed the "Purchase Ticket Now" button, not just once, but twice and I am now committed.

I felt panicky thinking about the money I just spent, but there was also a sudden rush of euphoria and giddiness. I am traveling to Montana. Sure not the hot vacation destination many would want, but its what I want and what I need. Fresh air and some breathing space.

Not only will my time there be an adventure, but my mode of trasportation will be too. I am taking the Amtrak, another LA project, to Whitefish, MT and visit friends before I find myself in Big Sky visiting my aunt whom I haven't seen in awhile. Seems like I can't get away from family. (ha!) Then I'm flying home. It will be a 10 day trip that will be amazing even if it's cloudy, rains, snows and there is a chance to rabid squirrel attack.

Now the hardest decision I have is, What on earth am I going to wear?!

- Audacious

Sweet Baby Jesus.

I started a blog. You can blame Tracy McCray. Everything after this point is all her fault. Thanks Tracy!!

(How am I doing so far?)