The "Are You F'ing KIDDING ME" Blog Post

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So apparently when I said in my blog post earlier this morning that I would "handle" whatever was thrown at me today, God took that as a challenge and threw down. 

I am about 20 seconds away from losing it, big time. I have a sign taped above my computer that says, "BE THE TYPE OF PERSON YOU WANT TO MEET." I'm looking at it, trying to remind myself that I don't want to meet a hysterical, sobbing woman ready to bury her head in the sand, but it's a challenge. 

Deep breath. So here's where things stand. 

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Dealing With Curveballs

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Sometimes life doesn't flow the way you want it to. This week, for example, is a train wreck.

Blair and I leave soon for Italy. Poor guy came down with a horrible cold on Monday. Bad, but as the eternal optimists our thoughts were, "Yea! At least he's getting it out of the way before we leave on our trip." As I type these words, I'm listening to him in the bathroom, gagging. Not better. Worse. And facing a 24-hour travel day in the very near future. 

My throat has started tickling and I'm just praying the excitement over the trip will stave off any impending illness. That, and I think I may drink a lot in the next 24-hours to kill off any germs. ;)

Then there's Snowball, our newly adopted cat. I arrived home yesterday to find his left eye practically sealed shut. No idea what's going on there, except now I have to find time in an already frantic day to get him to the vet and then, more then likely, explain to our house sitter that not only will she be feeding our cats for the week, but she'll also more than likely be required to catch and sit on a cat while attempting to administer eye drops. 

My speech for Ignite Charlotte is written, but today must must MUST be devoted to pulling the slides together. I'm having a panic attack just thinking about it. 

Then there are the last minute details to attend to - visits to the bank and post office, return library books, write up instructions for the house sitter, last minute cleaning and laundry and--oh yeah--I haven't PACKED anything yet. 

But I can't think about any of that right now. I'm leaving in a few minutes to meet friends for a 20-mile run and I'm grateful. I'm feeling edgy and scattered and I know a long run, where I have no choice but to put one foot in front of the other for hour after hour, is going to calm and center me. Exhaust me as well, but calm and center me. 

I'll get everything done because you know what? I always do. Blair will rally, I won't get sick, we'll get medicine in Snowball and we will have a glorious time roaming all over Italy. 

I'm going to knock these curveballs out of the park. 

Cheers,

Dena

Let Them Eat... Wait, That's Not Allowed On This Diet

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Just when you thought ALL the funny material that could ever be written about cats already existed, a new book comes along to challenge your perspective and make you ask, "Huh. Are more jokes about overweight tabbies really necessary in my life?" 

The answer is yes, yes they are. I'm happy to announce that Ten Speed Press/Random House has picked up the contract on my next book. Does This Collar Make My Butt Look Big? A Diet Book for Cats will be released in Fall 2013. 

Similar to the set-up of my last book where each chapter parodied a popular self-help book on the market, this book attacks human diets and exercise plans and examines them from a cat's pont of view, which is is to say the diets are viewed while napping upside down over the edge of the couch. 

Needless to say, I've spent a whole lotta time this summer reading diet books. Paleo, South Beach, Atkins, Raw Food, Slow Carb, Dukan, all carb, no carb, fasts, cleanses, celebrity diets... there's no lack of material to pull from.

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No Exercise For 1 Week: Place Your Bets

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So. It seems my body is falling apart, piece by piece. It started two weeks ago with a sprained lower back muscle, moved into bicipital tendonitis in my right shoulder, progressed to a rolled left ankle with accompanying shin pain, and has morphed into a bruised muscle on the opposite side of my back, side stitch, and muscle spasm in my left arm. 

To say the least, something isn't right. Today's 10-mile run cemented that fact when I was practically unable to bend over to pick up Gatorade at the water stop, had to keep my body in straight alignment with zero twisting so as not to cause back spasms, and still had such a strong sensation of a bruised rib that I almost quit the run halfway through. 

I may be thick, but I can take the hint.

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