Wintertime and miracles

Today was the most perfect winter day of all time, which was kind of Mother Nature since the bitch plans to bring back sub-zero temperatures this week. We have strategically placed beautiful days all winter just to suck us back in. "Oh, winter's not so bad. It's kind of beautiful." And then boom. 


So I took advantage of the weather and had one of the best runs I've had since my marathon. It's amazing what you can do when the ground isn't covered in ice and the air doesn't freeze your lungs. YOU CAN RUN. It's a miracle. 

We're approaching the depths of winter in which I begin to question my lifelong decision to live in Wisconsin. Don't get me wrong, I'll never leave. Ever. But what's wrong with a six-month hiatus to say... the Virgin Islands? Nothing. Not a damn thing. Until then, I'll just be here. Freezing.

But at least it makes for good pictures. AM I RIGHT?

I mean, really. Just look at this. This is why I continue to live here.

 Winter is beautiful, see?

Winter is beautiful, see?

Also, I have a good story. Last night while laying in bed, Travis turned to me and said, "I have a confession."

Now let me backtrack a little and say rarely does anything good come from a late-night confession. Not ever. In fact, pretty sure I was dumped that way once upon a time. Needless to say, a piece of me shriveled and died in that split second because REALLY? We're doing this? We're making late-night confessions? Is this how it's all gonna end? Right before bed? Dammit.

But then he blew my mind.

"Chicken is my favorite cat," he said, matter-of-factly. 

One thing you should know is he's allergic to cats. He's had a very real aversion to my (sweet, loving, wonderful, precious, furry) cats since the beginning. Naturally. Leave it to me, self-proclaimed Cat Lady of the Universe, to find myself a guy who's allergic to cats. BECAUSE OF COURSE I WOULD. 

So, he's never liked my cats. The ever-curious Harley will oftentimes attempt to crawl onto his bags or his laptop, and you'd think someone were about to inject Travis with poison. I suppose, if you're allergic to cats, it's kind of the same.


We hear that regularly around my apartment.

Harley is very slowly learning to keep her distance from the Allergic One. Chicken, on the other hand, has only grown warmer and warmer towards Travis. She was skeptical of him from the beginning. As she is of all people, bless her heart, I love her so. But, swear to god, she's starting to melt his cold, lifeless, cat-hating heart. They're actual buddies. Buddies who don't touch. Ever. Because allergies.

Miracles are real, you guys.

He's given her a nickname: Chicken L. Bug. He has conversations with her and laughs every time she opens her mouth to meow. I've even started texting him photos of her. I bet he has them saved in a special folder called MY BEST FRIEND. I think he's starting to melt her cold, lifeless, human-hating heart. It's really the most touching story of all time. It's melting MY cold, lifeless heart. 


So that's the story of how Chicken left me for a man. She's completely uninterested in me unless he's around.

This morning we were talking about a chicken recipe, and as I'm in the middle of a sentence -- I believe the exact words were "You take chicken and cut it up into little pieces" -- he actually shushed me. 

"Shhhhhhhhhhh," he said, glancing over at the couch, looking slightly irritated.

I stopped talking, confused. I assumed he meant I was talking too loud. I do that. "What do you mean, 'shhhh'?"

And then I realized. Chicken. He was protecting her feelings because I was talking about CUTTING UP CHICKEN. 

Miracles are real, indeed. Travis + Chicken forever. 

 Best Friends Forever

Best Friends Forever