Wives Shed Like Cats

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I have many nicknames for my roommates, Katrine and Moos. Collectively, I call them The Wives. Individually, I call Katrine the "Queen of Ballard," and Moos "The Dark Lord."
Alas, I have new nicknames for Katrine and Moos: "Tabby" and "Himalayan," respectively. You see, The Wives shed like cats. To live with them is to be surrounded by tumbleweeds of hair.

I've grown accustomed to the lifestyle, but the occasional visitor will find the clumps of hair that collect unusual. After Sergio's extended stay in the Ballard Burrow last week, he said he couldn't believe the masses of hair in the bathroom, kitchen and bedrooms. True, we do challenge the average barber shop for most hair on the floor. I actually had to re-tape most of my Christmas presents because hair got under the tape. I really shouldn't have wrapped presents sitting on the family room carpet.

I know, I know. Vacuum frequently, you suggest. Unfortunately, our vacuum recently passed away - strangled to death by a cord of the combined Tabby and Himalayan hair. I'm off to Fred Meyer today to buy a new one. If this one dies, I'm going to the pet store to buy cat brushes.

in

I was struck by an epiphany yesterday, as I left REI with new ski poles, goggles and gloves in hand.

Lately, I’ve been buying some fairly expensive items for myself – camera equipment, clothing, HDTV, etc. Certainly I’m enabled by a comfortable-enough salary for such purchases, but I often say to myself, “Well, you would be spending at least this much if you were dating someone, but since you’re not, you can buy it.” And I proceed the purchase the item for myself.

I think I’ve noticed the trend because of more significant purchases recently. I’ve been single for more than two years now, but if I were instead in a relationship for the last two years, I’d be buying some significantly expensive gifts for the girlfriend by this time – so I instead buy more expensive gifts for myself. It’s a weird economic logic that’s developed, but it’s become the standard buying behavior.

I can even look back to a year and a half ago. I was single for a shorter period of time and didn’t spend as much on myself. My thought then was, “Sure, I’ll go out for food tonight because I’d be spending double if I was dating someone,” which was true. I was at an earlier stage of singlehood then, so I spent less on myself. Now that I’m at a serious level of singlehood, I’m spending more.

I can’t justify why I maintain this purchasing equilibrium, but I can say that when I’m home, watching “The Office” on HD, out shooting photos at a concert, or hitting the slopes at Crystal, I’m at peace with the financial freedoms of singlehood. Company has an unprecedented value, but I’ll manage spoiling myself for the time being, in lieu of a girlfriend.

in

This holiday season's must-see movie is "Juno."

The movie blends the arid humor and neo-folk soundtrack of "Napoleon Dynamite" with the tug-on-heartstrings, familial interactions of "Little Miss Sunshine."

The plot is simple. Teenager Juno McDuff (Ellen Page) gets knocked up by her classmate, Paulie Bleeker (Michael Cera), and finds her unborn child a seemingly perfect set of adoptive parents (Jason Bateman, Jennifer Garner). The bigger picture is really about a young woman having to tread through heavy, adult issues she's not ready for. It's that coming-of-age film that just works.

Actress Ellen Page delivers. OK, bad joke. But really, she deserves that Best Actress nomination and a win for her character creation of the sharp, witty Juno. The writing is endearing, clever and more full of teenage energy than a bottle of Adderall.

Go see Juno. I'll join.