Instagramming: July

If I had to put July in the fun or lame column, it would be so far in the fun column that it couldn't even seem lame. It was that good.

I got to hang out with my favorite people in the whole wide world during the month of July and got to see a lot of my fair city. My fair city was also my hot city, as Chicago baked under 90+ degree temperatures for most of July. I complained about the heat, but not too much because there was too much fun to be had.

Here is a little of the fun I had in July.

 July

- the heat, my God the heat - MY BACHELORETTE PARTY - Chicago architecture cruise - 

spending a lunch hour in Millennium park with my sister and nephews - watching my garden grow - drinking on my back porch - a photo shoot in Lincoln Park - sending out my wedding invitations and getting some responses back - a weekend in Michigan at my parents lake house - ordering wedding decorations - getting my passport renewal in order so I can go to Panama(!!!) - a Sunday concert in my hood with Mike - charity dog wash - hanging up artwork on my walls

Mr. T Minus Six Minutes

Internet, meet Taylor.

Taylor, this is the Internet.

Taylor is the newest member of my and Mike's home - now also known as the crazy pet emporium.

We first heard about Taylor through one of my coworkers. She volunteers with this great organization called Project Rescue here in Chicago. She knew Mike and I had been looking a little more seriously into adopting a dog and suggested we think about fostering Taylor as a way to get our feet wet. We met him yesterday and immediately fell in love with his personality and fluffy face.

The rescue owner said Taylor was brought to a shelter by his owner (who claimed not to know him). The shelter had a high kill rate and Projct Rescue swooped in and saved Taylor six minutes before he was scheduled to be no more. His previous owner kept him outdoors most of the time, so at his first visit to the vet, they had to remove six ticks from T. Hence, his awesome haircut. He's part chow and possibly collie, so he's definitely sporting a summer 'do at the moment. At the vet, he also tested positive for heartworm. But since he's only a year and a half old (they think), he's expected to make a full recovery. But he needs a good home to relax and recover in. That's where we come in.

Before we even met Taylor we decided to shorten his name to T. But you can call him Mr. T. I'm sure this isn't the last you'll be seeing of him around these parts. And I'm also pretty sure this foster situation is going to turn into a premanent residency.

Oh and in case you're wondering, the cats are adjusting. Some better than others.

Oscar has not left this chair since we brought T home. And yes, he is a drooling mess in that photo.

Your Very Own Virtual Christmas Card

I didn't bother sending out Christmas cards this year. In fact I didn't end up doing anything. There isn't a single strand of tinsel or a Christmas candle anywhere to be found. I'm sure there will be years where I opt to have Christmas coming out of the wazoo. This just wasn't one of those years.

Mike and I are spending a quiet night home tonight, hanging with the cats. I'll probably drink a little wine. We'll probably eat some leftovers. And then tomorrow we'll get up and drive to Wisconsin with Leroy in tow. He hasn't been himself the past few days. We were getting concerned so we spent a part of our afternoon at the emergency vet. The consultation left Mike a little lower on funds that he'd like, but we now have a Leroy that is eating and resting comfortably. I can think of no greater Christmas gift than Mike, me and three happy and healthy cats.

So from all of us to all of you, we'd like to say have a very Merry Christmas.

Sleeping Quarters

This is a common sight in my and Mike's house. Our cats don't really have beds and take to sleeping where ever they deem most comfortable. For Leroy that often times is in Mike's laundry basket. I don't know how many times I've walked into our second bedroom to see Leroy napping in one of these baskets. I think it's Leroy's happy place.

Unfortunately for Mike, that means the impossible task of keeping our clothing free of cat hair becomes that much more impossible. What makes that task even more impossible now is this.

Oscar must have picked up a thing or two from Leroy. This is a new development as of this morning, and I don't think Mike's too happy about it

Cats, You've Been Warned

Holy crap. I'm not going to lie. I've spent all morning playing with my new toy, and holy crap is it awesome. You know what this means? More and better photo shoots with the cats. Because I don't have enough photos of the cats already.

I just realized, this post currently makes it the third cat-related entry on this page. Whatever, call me a crazy cat lady all you want (Nicole!). I can take it.

Just As I Suspected

Mike and I did get our helicopter toys this week. I haven't played with mine yet, but Mike couldn't resist opening his as soon as he got it. Before he burnt out the motor (after 15 minutes of play - stupid cheap POS's!), he had some fun. And just as I suspected, it was the at the cats' expense.

(I'd suggest turning down the volume before you play these. The sound it set pretty loud. Also, even though only Mike can be heard laughing, please know that I was as soon as stopped recording.)

My Absent Week

Where on earth has this week gone?

I'm sitting on my couch. It's Sunday night, and I can't believe I have to go to work tomorrow. I was just at work. On Friday. And on Saturday. Yes, I went into work yesterday morning. Yuck. Saturdays at the office always throw off my internal clock, but I saw no way to avoid going in. I had too much to get done this week even though I worked 8+ hours each day including one that was closer to 12 hours. This past week I had a lot of bonding time with my office but not really my home.

As a result, I haven't left home at all today. I've done a lot of couch bonding, some movie watching, Internet surfing and I talked to my mom about Christmas plans. My family may go skiing! I did manage to peel myself from the couch long enough to clean, fold laundry, make dinner and get out Christmas decorations.

We've got a few Christmas trinkets here and there and my mini-tree is lighted and decorated. I was a little hesitant to put it up after the melee that ensued last year. This year though, the cats will have a hard time reaching it. It's on the top shelf of a six foot tall shelving unit in our living room. And for those of you who remember, the baby Jesus is on the tree. A few months after I took down my tree last year, I found the baby Jesus under my couch. Oscar will hopefully have no contact with the baby Jesus this year. Amen.

As productive as I managed to be during my day at home, there was something I did not do. I didn't work out. I'm not beating myself up too terribly though. Even without making it to the gym this weekend I did still accomplish one personal goal. I worked out before work three times this week. I went Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings, and I'll be going again tomorrow before work. I plan on this being my regular routine. It amazes me to say it, but I think the reason I didn't make it this weekend is because I couldn't go either Saturday or Sunday morning. I am a morning gym attendee, and I would have it no other way now. I still want to hit my four days a week gym goal so what I may end up doing is trying to go four days during the week and taking the weekends off. Thoughts? Encouragement? Discouragement?

So now with the waining hours of my weekend, I'm going to lay out my gym clothes for the morning and read my new Health magazine. Speaking of Health magazine, if you don't have a subscription and would like one, let me know. I can sign up four people for free when I renew right now. If so, leave me a comment and I'll get in touch with you.

Hope you all had relaxing, fun weekends. Or you know, maybe instead of fun and relaxing, you added a new member to your family. Congrats again, Lexi! I'm overjoyed for you all.

Away in a Manger

The Christmas decorations are down. I saved Oscar the trouble and took them down now so he wouldn't allow himself to get into any more trouble. (He did knock the tree down again two days ago.) And surprisingly, everything is present and accounted for... with the exception of my baby Jesus in a manger ornament.

I've looked everywhere around the tree, under my couch, under my chair, in corners and even in Oscar's litter box. I can't find him. I tried interrogating Oscar, but it didn't seem to phase him. So I ask you, what would Jesus do?

Oh, Unholy Night

I had a thought on my 10-hour train trip from Chicago to Dearborn, Michigan: I probably should have taken down my little Christmas tree before leaving. A trifecta of train problems doubled my trip time home, so I had a lot of time to think. I left Chicago to spend the holidays with my family. I was, however, leaving one family member from Friday to Wednesday - my mischievous cat Oscar.


Oscar had plenty of time to think, as well. With six mostly-unsupervised days in my apartment (I did have friends check on him), Oscar took his time thinking about how he could dismantle my Christmas tree. And then he did.

When I left home Friday, my tree looked like this:

When I came home today, my tree looked like this:

Notice the tree skirt is now on top of the tree. Notice the lack of ornaments. Notice the carnage.
No, notice the carnage:

My porcelain snowman is weeping inside:

And who's the culprit? None other than my little beast.

I'm not even certain I'll be able to find all my ornaments. They were strewn across my apartment. I could see him dragging some under my bed to his little hidden lair, so I'm counting on finding some in Oscar's litter box in a few days. Some could be under my couch. Some could be half way to Michigan. I really don't know. What I do know is that Oscar gets mad when I leave him. And I learned I need to do my best to curb the number of things he can destroy in my absence. Because something tells me he'd do it all again if he had the chance.

Where's The Beef?

Outside my door when I came home from work today was a giant Styrofoam box. However, I already knew what was inside it: meat. I should explain.

My office Christmas party was last week. I did not attend. I did, however, receive a text message from a coworker mid-party informing me I won meat. Yes, meat. My firm raffles off a lot of prizes at the annual Christmas party: $200 gift certificates, overnight stays in five star hotels downtown, airlines tickets.... and meat. And I won the meat. In a twist of irony, I did not attend the Christmas party because my stomach was in knots, so the thought of pounds of meat heading my way did not help my cause.

I opened the giant Styrofoam box and began surveying my winnings (with Oscar watching closely nearby). When all was said and done, I received:

- two top sirloin steaks

- two beef tenderloin steaks

- four ground beef burgers

- four boneless chicken breasts

- six stuffed baked potatoes

- one chocolate cake

It needs to be said that I am not a vegetarian, but I eat like one. I will have the occasional meat dish, but usually only if it's prepared for me, not by me. My dinners consist mainly of rices, beans, vegetables, cheeses or sometimes just a bag of popcorn. I can spend $100 easily at the grocery store on snack foods I turns into "dinners." To have all this meat in my house now is a bit overwhelming. So overwhelming that instead of busting into one of my many meat options tonight for dinner, I made nachos with cheese, onions, spinach and salsa. (No meat.) Maybe I'll make something tomorrow, but until then, my meat will continue to take up about two-thirds of my freezer's space.

Up Chuck Wake Up

Last night, I learned a very unpleasant way to be woken up. At 4:30 a.m., I was wrestled from slumber by the sound cat gagging near my head. I opened my eyes and looked up. There sat Oscar hunched over on the pillow he claims most nights due north of my head working up something fierce. No sooner was I awake than Oscar horked a few inches from the spot I’d been sleeping mere seconds ago. I mean really, he couldn’t have chosen the wood floors which cover approximately 95 percent of my apartment?

With Oscar out of he way, I grabbed the pillow and removed the case gently, careful not to further spread the kitty puke. I then rinsed it in my bathroom sink, thinking there was nothing much else I could do at the moment. Leaving the pillow case to dry over my tub, I returned to bed. On the way back, I crossed paths with Oscar who was meowing and raring to play. What apparently was a disruption to me was only a minor inconvenience for my cat. Regardless, we both ended up falling back asleep - Oscar on a different pillow.

Never Own a Cat

All of the students who went through Central Michigan University’s journalism school had to take photography. During my required semester of it we had a former alumni now working in the biz come speak to us. I forget his name but do remember three pieces of advice he gave us. His words of wisdom, meant to fall on the ears of undergrads about to try and make it at the journalism game were:
- Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.
- Knees do bend. (In reference to getting interesting angles for photos.)
- Never own a cat.

His reasoning for the cat comment was that when you’re young and starting out, you don’t want a cat holding you back. At the time, I wrote off the cat advice, but held on to the others. As of Saturday, the cat advice set in.

I have been searching for an apartment for over a month now. Not wanting to settle for the same type of place I currently have or worse, I admit I have been a little selective. So when the end of this week hit and I still hadn’t seen anything I considered suitable, I got VERY nervous. I had seen apartments out of my price range that were very nice and apartments within my price range that were not nice. Forgive me, but I had a hard time picturing my orange couch set against red wall appearing to be covered in splattered blood. I know, I know. I’m picky. So when a realtor I worked with Thursday called me Saturday morning to say he’d found the perfect place, I was incredibly skeptical. Regardless, I met Jonathon at 10 a.m.

And what Jonathon showed me was a spacious one bedroom on a quiet tree-lined street with a back porch. I was almost immediately sold. After seeing so many places that did not work, I could tell this one would. There was one catch though. Jonathon forgot to check the status of pets. A quick call to The Apartment People confirmed my fears. No pets allowed. “But he’s only one cat. And he’s de-clawed,” I said in protest.

Never own a cat.

Now Jonathon may or may not have said this. I will never confirm either one. But allegedly some people who own cats sometimes don’t let their landlords know they do. They allegedly move into new buildings, bring their cats and once a landlord may or may not find out, the tenant usually won’t get kicked out for having said alleged cat. I also heard from some sources that neither the landlord nor the maintenance man lives in the building. So I may or may not be saying that I may or may not sneak Oscar into the building under a blanket in the dead of night once I move in.

Aside from that, I will confirm that I did get the apartment. The Apartment People called me today to inform me that I got the place. Now all I have to do is meet with the landlord and sign the papers. I will be moving in August 1 and I may or may not have a cat. If I do though, he’s going to have to learn to be realllllllly quiet.

Just Chillin'

I have faced the elements thus far in my apartment search. On Saturday, it was blazing heat. Tuesday, I trudged through a torrential downpour only to miss an appointment with a realtor. With round three, which is to take place Thursday, I won’t be surprised if I’m met with hale or gale force winds. The weather may have something to do with the fact that I haven’t found a place yet. It’s that or that I’m too picky.

But in the meantime, Oscar and I are making do with what we have. It’s been pretty hot the past few days, so unfortunately, the Sayre/de la Hoya household has fallen on some hard times. Luckily, I can get away from the heat by heading down the street to Borders, Starbucks or Bed, Bath and Beyond – anywhere with air-conditioning really. I’m not too picky. My strategy is basically to go where I feel I can stay the longest without the staff starting to monitor my activity.

However, Mr. de la Hoya isn’t so lucky. My poor Oscar isn’t welcome at such places, so when I do return home to the stifling heat of my studio, I immediately feel guilty. He still greets me but lately it’s with a sort of a pissed off, where-the-hell-have-you-been meow. I have found one way to relieve both my guilt and Oscar’s heatstroke though….


Yes, that’s my cat in my freezer. And after I did it the first time, I learned he likes it. So I’ll continue putting my cat in the freezer (never with the door shut!) until one of two things happen: it cools down in the Chi or we get new apartment with air. Lord knows I’m trying to find one.

Curiosity Will Kill My Cat

Oscar is a loud cat. His meows can be heard as I reach the first stairwell landing in my apartment building. And on nice days when my windows are open, I can hear him as I walk up to the courtyard. So it was no surprise to me, that he was quite vocal when I got back from my week stay in Michigan. He meowed Sunday night all the way until Monday morning. A week without attention makes for a needy, loud Oscar.

As I was packing my work bag that morning, I felt more guilt than I usually do leaving him alone in my apartment all day long. It worsened with each step down my stairwell - that is until I reached the bottom.

There, in the foyer to my building, lay a doorknob, more importantly the doorknob to my front door - the door I was planning to exit and begin my work day. However, with the doorknob on the ground and an automatically locking door, I wasn’t really sure how I would get out. For all intents and purposes, I was locked in my building.

I ascended my stairs and was greeted by Oscar, whom I know was glad to have me back after only minutes, not days. I lay down on my bed, with Oscar circling around me, and debated whether I could take another day off work. I was sleep-deprived and Oscar was one attention-deprived cat. I proceeded to make two phone calls: one, a very angry call to my landlord, and the other, to my supervisor. I told him I was calling with the weirdest excuse ever to be late to work: I was locked in my building.

Not wanting to use a half day or full day off for such a ridiculous reason, I took the only option I had. There is the front door to my apartment, and there also is a door in my kitchen. I have opened it approximately one time. The day I moved in, I discovered on the other side of it was a stairwell covered in garbage and bird poop. I cleared out the garbage and threw my Christmas tree out there, never to open it again - until Monday that is.

I moved Oscar’s litter box of out the way, as well as the two random chairs I have stacked in front of it. I immediately was as grossed and freaked out by my back stairs as I was the day I moved in. I stepped uneasily and made my way down the unlit, smelly and dirty staircase.

By the time I got to work it was quite late, I was still quite tired but I managed to make it through the day, just barely. On the bus ride home all I could think about was food and napping on this dreary, rainy day. I bought some groceries and walked home, hoping that I would not have to make my way up the scary back stairs. Thankfully, my building once again had a working doorknob.

I got upstairs and noticed my apartment was eerily quiet. I walked into my kitchen and dropped my groceries as soon as I saw my kitchen door open. Everything in my apartment was intact, but I was missing an Oscar.

The kitchen door has no outside lock so there was no way for me to secure it when I left that morning. And to make matters worse, it opens in, so I couldn’t lean anything against it to keep my too-curious-for-his-own-good cat from pawing it open. And that’s just what he had done sometime during the seven hours I was at work.

I walked out onto my back stairs and began calling his name. Nothing. So I made my way down them. Still calling his name, I heard nothing. I got to the bottom and saw the door at the bottom of the stairs wide open. I stepped through it and my worst fears were confirmed. To my left, was a shut door, and to my right was the alley with nothing but an open passageway at its end.

Immediately images of Oscar running through it and out into the Chicago streets hit me. And then the tears did. I walked back up the stairs and by the time I reached my apartment, I was a wreck. I felt like the worst cat mom in the world. What kind of person leaves their cat alone for a week only to lose it the day she gets back? I should have known he’d paw that door open in seconds. I should have left it and found a way out the front door. He could be anywhere by now! He doesn’t have claws! What if he runs into a city rat the size of him? He’ll still try to fight it. God, I’m going to be traveling down Lakeshore Drive weeks from now and see him lying dead on the side of the road!

These thoughts left me barely able to breath and sobbing uncontrollably. I had no idea what to do. I called a friend of mine who has two cats. He assured me right away that Oscar wouldn’t have gone too far. He said they think they’re brave but once they’re outside they get scared. He convinced me that he couldn’t be any farther than under a car on an adjacent street. He said to keep looking. I grabbed my umbrella and headed down the back stairs with as much composure as I could muster. I kept calling his name and when I got to the bottom of the stairs about to head outside, I heard it - a tiny, scared meow coming from the stairwell. I called his name again, he answered back. And in the shadows I could see the white of his head on the bottom landing.

I rushed over and felt him to see if he seemed hurt. He did not, and I scooped him up in my arms, with tears once again streaming down my face. I held him tightly and as he squirmed in my arms when we got to my apartment door, I threw him inside. I locked my door and shoved everything back in front of it. Then I turned to Oscar and yelled at him like any angry mother would. And I struck him - something I almost never do, but felt the need to at that moment. I was a wreck with emotion. I was so happy he was alive but a part of me wanted to kill him for scaring me.

Oscar spent that night in the apartment very quiet. He did not come near me for a while. A few hours later after we’d both calmed down, he made him way to me on the couch and plopped his exhausted self in my lap. As mad as I had been before, I was glad I hadn’t lost him. I didn’t really realize how much I like having the little guy around. In the six months we’ve lived together, he’s become pretty important to me. Say what you will about crazy ladies and their cats, but I hope to have him around for a long time, loud meows and all. At least they let me know he’s home.

Mi Gato Favorito

My little man Oscar and I have been living together for about two weeks now. It’s enough time to have picked up on some of Oscar’s personality and quirks. Here’s what I’ve learned about Oscar thus far:

• He is a morning cat. Oscar’s up by 5 a.m. and raring to play, while my alarm does not go off until 6:30 a.m. at the earliest. Something to note, I am not a morning person.
• When he does sleep, his favorite place is by my head.
• He has a stick with some ribbons duct-taped on the end of it that is his world. It is the only thing that seems to appease him at all times. Were this stick to disappear, I am pretty sure he wouldn’t know how to function.
• He can do several back flips in a row when chasing this stick.
• He is obsessed with running water. If he’s not pacing back and forth in my apartment then I can generally find him sitting in my bathroom sink staring at the right faucet that drips ever so slightly. The latest is that he slips in between the shower curtain and liner while I’m showering and watches the water run toward the drain.
• When I am gone for too long, he chews on my welcome mat.
• I have to devote play time to him both in the morning and at night otherwise he makes my life miserable.
• He can go through a small bag of cat food in about two weeks.
• His purr is now one of my favorite sounds.
• After only two weeks of living with him, it’s hard to remember what I did before he was here.

Oscar de la Hoya

I have a cat. Just when I thought the saga of Twinkle Toes was over, I was told it was not. The Cusacks backed out and now he's mine. We had our first meeting last Wednesday and since he didn't claw my eyes out when I walked in the door, I agreed to take him.

He moved in on Saturday. I say moved in because he came with a carrier and two grocery bags of stuff. He's now resting comfortably in my apartment after spending most of Saturday hiding under my bed. I think he likes it here now. As you can tell by the photo above, his favorite move is spreading out on the rug by my desk. He's already strutting around like he owns the place.

Today I learned/decided that his name is Oscar. He's quite a little boxer and has this move where he likes to stand up on his hind legs and bat at things. So in honor of his boxing agility, I've renamed him Oscar de la Hoya... Oscar for short. Lord knows he wasn't staying Twinkle Toes for long.

I promise I'll keep you all updated about life as a cat owner. I'm sure there are many lessons to be had there.

Twinkle Toes: The Final Chapter

There is a very simple answer to the question, why is Twinkle Toes not sitting in my lap at this very moment? It is a two word answer: Joan Cusack.

I went into work Tuesday and got the back story of the Twinke Toes saga. My co-worker, Stephanie, who told me about the cat in the first place, went to Twinkle's owner's home for Thanksgiving and that's where it all went down.

Stephanie walked in her friend's home last Thursday and my little kitty was there. Stephanie ignored it (out of fierce loyalty and kindness to me) and went on to enjoy her Thanksgiving, trying to forget the whole ugly situation. However, later she overheard a mutual friend of hers ask Twinkle's owner when she was taking him to his new home. Twink's owner excitedly responded that it would be soon. She then went on to say she was invited to come visit Twinkle whenever she wanted and even cat sit at Twink's new home on occasion. Now any reasonable person would ask why a grown woman would be so excited at the prospect of cat sitting. Well it's not the cat, so much as the cat's owner.

I was told by Stephanie last week that her friend decided to give Twinkle to her co-worker instead of me. The small detail not previously mentioned was that the co-worker happens to be Mr. Joan Cusack. That's right, Joan Cusack's husband... what's his name. I can only imagine that this woman now thinks this little cat is going to be her ticket to Hollywood.

I can't compete with that. I'm just a lone girl in a studio apartment in the city. I can't offer lavish homes in Chicago's finest suburbs. I can't offer celebrity sitings. I can't guarantee unlimited call me minutes from U.S. Cellular. Clearly, the odds were not in my favor in this situation.

And who knows, maybe Twinkle Toes will be happy in the Chicagoland suburbs, roaming his large, manicured lawn. Maybe he'll be swept up in the glitz and glamour of the Cusack clan. Maybe he'll drink Evian from a golden water dish. Who knows, maybe he'll even get to appear in a U.S. Cellular comercial as the playful kitten in the background. But then again, maybe he would have been happy living with me too. I guess we'll never know.

(*Short endnote - I've been out of town for about a week visiting my peeps in Michigan and gorging myself on Turkey. I'm back in the Chi now and plan to do some catching up on my blog, so as always.... keep reading!)

Twinkle Toes

Today I learned that the cat that was to be formerly named Twinkle Toes will no longer be mine. I had planned to pick him up from his owner's home when I got back from Michigan, however that will no longer be happening. It turns out his owner changed her mind last Friday and wants to now give the cat to her co-worker instead of me, even though I rightfully staked claim to him first.

I may still get a cat, but not any time soon. The holidays are here now, so I'm waiting. But I can't say I'm not a little disappointed I won't be getting this cat. Even thought I never met it, I was starting to like the idea of coming home to something at the end of the day, other than my plants.

Oh well, I guess the lesson here is something along the lines of don't count your chickens before they're hatched.... only with cats instead of chickens. Wait. I guess that doesn't really work, but you get the jist of it.

I Can't Say No to a Face Like That

This is Twinkle Toes. A co-worker informed me Friday that dear Twinkle is in need of a new home.

I might do something about it. If I do, though, his name will change.