Caterwauling

And that’s not as in “good morning.”

R.I.P. Blue Dolphin, 2004-’06. It’s been a good ride, ol’ chap.

*sniffle*

“Grey’s Anatomy” writers are kickin’ it old-school — blogging Season 1 episodes! Krista Vernoff kicks off this glorious odyssey via her “If Tomorrow Never Comes” trip down memory lane. …

My favorite line from this one? When Cristina asks Burke, of their budding personal entanglement, “Do you really need a definition? Do you really want to be ‘that guy’?” This was also the ep that turned me on to Butterfly Boucher (“Never Leave Your Heart Alone”), although I grabbed some other MP3s of theirs and must say that “Grey’s” picked the only good one.

Isn’t the point of dating to have someone to do stuff with? I find myself with two parties to attend Saturday, but I had to RSVP as a lonely lil’ one for both of them. BOTH! (Although Sabre will be my date for the nighttime shindig, so w00t!).

Maybe I need to rethink the logic behind enjoying it when a boy has the opposite schedule as I do. Or perhaps I just need to juggle in a few more to keep things lively. 😉 Any takers?

At Caterwauling, we like to forget that one of our on-again/off-again/never-agains looks like Justin Timberlake (or Elijah Wood. Either way, ew. WTF?) and concentrate on figuring out exactly when the hell Timbaland got so hot. *fans self*

Anyway. We need some “SexyBack” as it is the earworm of the week:

I picked up my mail after it had gotten dark last night, and I just peeked into my bag (where I’d shoved it) to see what it yielded. And I saw something addressed to me at the P.R. firm/party-planning company I’d started (and forgotten completely about). It’s separate from my now-defunct freelance editorial gig. Aw, hell, who has time to freelance when the pile on the desk at the full-time gig never lets up?

I smiled at the sight of my company name, but I wasn’t sure whether it was like hearing from an old friend (or a recurring dream) or a stark reminder of one of those many things I started but never finished.

I’d secured the name with such hopes and dreams and plans. Then I tackled the company idea when I was sad and tired and desperate — the wrong reasons to start any venture. And finally, I just outright let it slide into the far reaches of my mental to-do list. Perhaps the only way I will ever be CEO of a company is if I start the damn company myself. And this reminds me that I need to register the business in D.C. — well, either that or resign myself to corporate life for a little while longer until I’m ready to figure out if the original dream is still valid or whether it’s shifted into something completely different.

I think it’s that my partner in crime left for the opposite coast. This was “our” project. We had our own separate businesses, but this was the joint venture that was going to put us on the proverbial map. And it still will, I know it. Now just isn’t the time. But that’s OK. That just means that when I say better days are ahead, I already know the types of things that are going to fill them. And now is the time to prepare myself for those challenges, but I have a few (thousand) others to tackle in the interim.

Somehow, saying “Yoga!” doesn’t quite have the punch of “Toga!” but then again, in my own personal “Animal House,” I only have two cats and not a fraternity. 😉

I’m going to try to catch a freebie yoga class on Friday, that is, assuming I’m out of work on time. I think I may blow my tiny windfall on some classes, assuming I don’t outright die at the first whisper of exertion.

I used to be able to get my damn ankles behind my ears. And I was never what you’d call even remotely anything other than pudgy — but alas, flexibility was something only reserved for the teens to the 20s. These days, my back hurts, my ass hurts and perhaps it’s a good thing, but the effort it would take to get up and get a snack is too much.

Some days I remind myself of a character in a Judy Blume book (I think. I used to read so much that I really forget), wherein the girl gave up her nightly bowl of ice cream and, on the first night she did so, she ran to the mirror to see if giving it up had made her skinny. I swear, I will never forget that line of the book as long as I live, even if I forget which book it was.

If yoga turns out to be no-ga, due to deadlines or just plain not being motivated enough, then that little slush fund is going into the plastic surgery fund. Lipo! Lipo! Lipo! 😉

Cryptic bullshit alert!

Scenes from Aisle 6 of a grocery store:

Somewhere between the bottled water and the new Crystal Light tangerine-strawberry drink mix, it occurred to me that maybe it really is just *that* easy to choose to be happy.

I mean, I had “a moment,” one in which I wanted to rip his cell phone out of his hand and beat him with it — he’d gotten that far under my skin without even trying. Without even noticing it. Do I not emote? How is it possible to miss whatever it is that I am not saying — does my head not spin 360 degrees?

I became possessed for a second, but only that — my meltdowns are quick. Logic always wins. The heart quiets down. Ya blink, ya miss it. Now, I don’t want to waste my wishes, but sometimes I do dream that someone would just “get” me right away so I wouldn’t feel bad about having a human moment, one that I squelch and pretend never even so much as threatened to happen.

But maybe that’s it — maybe the big things are worth fighting for, and the biggest thing of all is happiness. It’s hard to recognize it, and sometimes we have to force it, but it seems like securing/preserving it is where one’s energies are best channeled. I fight so hard with myself to stay cool, neutral, unruffled — I want to be passionate and over-the-top and memorable. The latter, for me, takes so much less energy, believe it or not. But it’s the former that gets me further, as I tend to spend less time gnawing on my cute yet supremely uncomfortable shoes after stuffing both feet in my mouth rather regularly.

Life offers a balance, though. I can also say that I also experienced (separately) one of those rare moments when the right words came out at the right time and in the right way. Things like that are meant to be savored and cherished and, more importantly, presented to God with a big thank-you note for making them possible.

If only all moments could be so effortless, but maybe the universe throws them our way to reward us for all the moments when our mental cell-throwing fantasies remained just that — a vision in our heads, one we will choose to forget and instead dream of better things to come.

We interrupt rerun season to announce that Season 2 of “Grey’s Anatomy” will be released on DVD Sept. 12. Squee! (Er, McSquee!)

Also, my newsreader informs me that there are new “GA” FAQs posted here.

Is there someone who gives you a wild case of the butterflies and warm fuzzies along with a perennially stupid smile on your face at the most random moments? The Crush Calculator is designed to help you figure out whether your Mr./Ms. Maybe could be the one for you.

This sweet little thing stolen from another sweet little thing, Trouble.

The good news keeps on coming.

Tucked into my door was a note from the apartment management. It’s a lovely “dear resident” note that says I have a credit of $145.20 on my account and to please deduct that from the August rent.

Hallelujah and holy shit. Seriously.

I don’t understand it, I don’t want to understand it — I just want to enjoy it. Maybe I can start working on the furniture fund, as I threw out a ton of it when I moved and just haven’t been able to save any money to replace it. Or maybe it goes toward a plane ticket somewhere. I don’t care — I’m just happy to be on what feels like a real winning streak.

Thank you God, Goddess and all the higher powers that are bringing me through this crazy time.