See that photo up top, the Flickr link with the picture of a sleeping puppy attached? That’s my mom’s new chihuahua, Daisy.

Sometimes I get so sad when I look at her. See, I used to have a toy chihuahua. I named him Tito. He had the same colorings as Daisy and everything, he just had longer, fluffier hair.

I got him on my eleventh birthday, when he was still a teeny tiny puppy. I LOVED that dog. He was given to me in a cute little basket, and he was shy and shaking, and I totally fell for him. And he was the first dog we’d ever had that was really mine.

He was by no means the best behaved dog. He always barked at strangers, was never fully housebroken (I swear, there must be something about dining tables that make dogs need to pee.), and he liked humping people’s arms while they were sitting. But he was still very loving, and didn’t mind me constantly cuddling with him. And man, did he love cleaning my ears for me. And licking off all my makeup.

After he was just a few years old, he started getting grey hairs on the top of his head. He looked like a little old gremlin. We got lucky that he lived so long, actually. My sister owned his brother, Paco, but she had to put him down after a few years because they found out there was a bone deformity in his neck that was causing him pain. I just held onto my shaking, whimpering Tito more.

Then I went to college. And I had to leave him behind. BELIEVE ME, if there was a dorm that allowed dogs, I SO TOTALLY would have brought him up here with me. But I couldn’t. Apparently, after I left, he became more and more withdrawn. He just spent all of his time in his kennel. I felt so bad that I couldn’t have him with me.

Then, the inevitable happened. Tito had lived to be quite old for a toy chihuahua, really. And last spring, during the second semester of my sophomore year, he died after a series of seizures. I was so broken up. Jennifer and Roger kept calling me to say he’d been having the seizures, but they were taking him to the vet. He was getting better. He was getting worse. Up and down, up and down. And then he just gave out, I guess. I cried pretty hard on that one. I think I took it especially hard because I wasn’t there with him when it happened.

It was so strange going home that summer and seeing Angel in the big kennel, all by herself. No Tito. And now, it seems like it’s been forever since it happened, but it was just a year and a half ago. I guess I’ve just been keeping busy, eh?

Mom’s new dog has been kind of a reminder of him. I think she fell in love with Daisy because she looked so much like Tito did when he was a puppy, and I don’t blame her. Josh and I will probably get one or two small dogs once we get settled into our own place, but I don’t know if it will be a chihuahua. I’ve had one, and he’s got one - Chico - still at his parents’ house. He likes min pins, and I do too, but I’m going to try and talk him into a pom pom. I love those little fluff balls!

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Last night, I talked to my one and only aunt, Amy, on the phone last night. And it was the first time we’d spoken directly in maybe two years.

I have always held the belief that since I’m the “young ‘un” of the family, it has not been up to me to keep up family ties and make phone calls to relatives. I always thought it was up to the older people to do the calling and card-sending, like my grandparents.

But I’m an adult now. And it’s become abundantly clear to me that sometimes the older family members don’t really give a shit about keeping ties. Well, I’m not down with that. I remember being six years old and EVERY branch of the family tree, up to second cousins, would get together at Christmas in the same household. And as far as I could tell, everyone basically got along.

That all changed when my great-grandmother went crazy. I say that affectionately. She’s been in nursing homes for several years now because she’s just started losing her mind, and now, they tell me she’s dying. This is the woman that raised me for most of my childhood (because my grandmother, her daughter, died from colon cancer before she had the chance). Granny was the one that always hosted the family holidays, and once she wasn’t able to anymore, I guess no one else wanted to start.

I’m tired of having that constant guilt in the back of my mind saying, “If you cared about your family, you’d call them.” I DO care. I just am not sure if they do. But I don’t care anymore, because I’m going to start calling and visiting when I can whether they all like it or not. Because you know what? They’re not all going to be around forever. And I don’t want Sydney, my niece, to go two years without speaking to me.

I had called Amy last weekend and left a message. She hadn’t called back, but I wasn’t deterred - I called again yesterday afternoon. Got the answering machine again. But she called me back last night, and we must’ve talked for at least an hour, just catching up on all the stuff we don’t know about each other. We both decided that the familial relations need to change, in a big way. We both want a big family Christmas this year.

I may try to call my grandfather next weekend, although I’m not counting on him answering. But I’ll just keep calling every weekend, until he realizes I’m not going to stop. He may be an ass, but he is my grandfather.

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Yesterday, we celebrated my 21st birthday three days early, as this was the most convenient time for my mother.

It was fairly simple. My sister cooked one of my favorite meals (meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and peas), and she and my mother made a cute little double-layer round cake. It was vanilla, with white icing and purple edges, flowers, and writing that said “Happy Birthday Michelle.” There were no invitations sent out; it was just me, and the six people I live with.

True, this was not at all exciting. I suppose most people feel the need to have blowouts on their 21st birthday, as it’s the last major birthday of your youth. But it didn’t bother me. It was nice to just stay at home and eat good food. Besides, I don’t have any friends anyway, right? Not that I’m complaining. I’ve got all I need.

Over the past week, everyone kept asking what I wanted as presents. I honestly had nothing I wanted, as I’ve got more video games than I have time to play with, I have more CDs than I’ve listened to, and I illegally rip any DVD I want from Netflix. I mentioned that since the IRS has now sucked up every last dime I had left, I would need money for my textbooks this semester, since I’m taking three gen eds, which is unusual for me (as a film student).

I got three cards at the cake table. One from Sydney and Cameron, one from Jennifer and Roger, and one from Mom. Each card had $100 in it. I thought, DAMN, they really did not need to give me this much money! I never even dream of getting that much on my birthday! I was very grateful, and Mom said I needed it more than they did right now.

Right after that, out of curiosity, I went upstairs to check if the textbooks I needed for my classes had been listed yet. Lo and behold, they finally were - totaling over $600 if purchased through the NYU bookstore. My mouth hit the floor with a sickening crunch. I started hunting through half.com for cheaper prices on the same books. I ended up purchasing three of the four books I need yesterday, and as luck would have it, it consumed all of my birthday money - a grand total of $299.20. Ironic, isn’t it?

The last book I need is my chemistry book, and it’s $225 through NYU. I can’t find it online anywhere - it must be a new edition. I really do hope I can find it somewhere cheaper, because if I have to pay that much for it, I don’t think I’ll be eating through September. Unless my dad actually acquiesces to my request for some help with food money this semester, which I am not holding my breath for.

After that, Josh decided to give me his presents as well. He first apologized, of course, because he’s never sure on what sizes I wear. AKA: HE GOT ME CLOTHES. He didn’t do too badly, actually, he just thinks my ass is smaller than it really is. The capri sleep pants with Tinkerbell that he got me fit fine, but the top he got to go with it is about two sizes too small. He got me a new towel wrap, too, and it’s just barely too small. But it’s alright; as I work at the department store that he got them from, I can just exchange them Monday when I go back to work. :)

Then we went upstairs, had sex, and I passed out early.

Happy early birthday to me.

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Since graduating high school, it has not been easy to keep in touch with even the closest of my friends - especially since I’m studying 800 miles away at NYU while the rest of them stayed in Kentucky (or, ahem, joined the Air Force). I do miss them quite a lot, but, I don’t know, I’m not dying without them.

Nowadays it literally seems like I have no friends - only family. Even the new friends I made up at NYU, I only talk to while up at school. I don’t talk to any of them over the summers. The only people I talk to or hang out with are my mom, sister, sister’s husband, niece, nephew, fiance, and occasionally my dad and stepmom. I don’t even talk to that much of my family.

But I don’t feel like I’m lacking anything. In high school I felt like a complete failure if I didn’t have tons of friends to call on the phone all the time. I guess it was part of the whole popularity contest. I’m not anti-social now by any means; I guess I’m just not actively pro-social. The friends I have built into my family seem to be enough.

Who knows, when I’m older and have my own kids it might be like it used to be. I’ll want to be friends with all the other mommies so I can host dinners and tupperware parties and stuff, or just get away from my husband. ;)

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When I got off work today, I was hungry. And Jennifer had said she was going to pick up some pizzas for dinner. So when it was time to clock out, I bolted home.

When I got here, I was met by my lovely fiance, but the pizza was not here yet. Jennifer left to get them about an hour before Josh had to go to work. 6:30 came along, and Josh had to leave, but Jennifer wasn’t back yet. In fact, she didn’t get back until twenty minutes later. But she had a good reason.

Apparently, on her way home, a momma cat was crossing the road - with a kitten in her mouth. The car in front of her managed to swerve and miss her, but unfortunately, my animal-loving sister did not. When she walked in the door more than an hour after leaving, she had two little white fluff balls in one hand. I thought, Oh god, she’s brought ferrets into the house now. Only she would delay dinner to get new pets.

Well, of course, it was the two kittens that were left behind. There was no way Jennifer could’ve left them out there all alone, especially since she was the one that killed their mom and sister (accidentally). She was bawling her eyes out when she came in the living room, so I took the kittens from her to examine them.

They are both solid white. They aren’t more than two weeks old, as only one of them has one eye open and they’re not walking. They do seem to be well-taken care of, though, so I think they’ll be alright under our care. Mom and Jennifer went out to take the boys some pizza at work and pick up some kitten milk and bottles to feed them with. Right now they’re on a towel in a cardboard box in the middle of the kitchen table, where Diesel, our lab/husky mutt, can’t get to them. He’s a big sweetie, but you never know when he might try to eat something that small.

The kittens are sleeping, but one of them keeps waking up and mewing. I think it’s hungry. One is a boy, one is a girl. We’ll probably keep them, but they’ll go outside once they’re old enough. We really don’t need any more pets in the house. But I agree - we need to take care of them right now. They can’t take care of themselves.

Poor things. I’m always worried I’ll hit something on my way to or from work. I’d be upset if it was a cat, deer, skunk, anything. A life is a life, you know?

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