I wake up when my cat tells me to. This is okay because my current work schedule (meaning none) is very flexible. Wonton likes to find the squishiest parts of me (barring my elbows, scalp and collarbone this is not too difficult a task) and goes to town with the dedication of a Turkish massage therapist and the delicacy of Freddy Krueger. My husband finds it endlessly entertaining to see a loud blonde of very ample proportions in a coral babydoll being pinned down to a mattress by a six pound cat.
The cat, when satisfied with her ministrations climbs up and chews on my earlobe purring sweet nothings with hot tuna breath. She loves me. She really really loves me and in spite (or perhaps because) of her wicked wiles, puncturing punishing inclinations and appalling fetid breath, I indulge and adore her.
I have a penchant for luxurious and often decadent things like clothing (particularly lingerie) which in my size is a challenge to find, jewelry, liquor, kitchen gadgets, household objects, gourmet delicacies and evidently, adjectives. When, not 'if', my book (and ambitiously, a series) is published, that will also extend to travel and art.
My mother used to love to tell the story of me as a toddler accompanying her window shopping at a jewelry store and upon being asked which ring I liked in a display case, chose the most expensive object in the place. I have an uncanny and at times disturbing knack (or perhaps innate style) for picking the best of everything, but rarely possessed the means to obtain them. My mother called it 'Champagne Tastes and Teabag Pockets'
This isn't, however, limited to objects. I've always had ridiculously high expectations and standards for just about everything, especially friends and the rare lucky men whom I fall for. Thankfully, fortuitously for me, they don't. I cherish and am devoted (often disgustingly sappily so) to everyone I love and I do love all my friends, even the ones I haven't seen for years or only see on Facebook with a passing 'like' or tagged note. Some of my friends find this characteristic of mine endearing. Some find it dismaying and aren't shy voicing their disapproval of this dogged loyalty. Maybe it's a character flaw. I don't know.
A lot my appreciation has to do with admiration and gratitude for the beauty and art of people and things (Wonton is the former, not the latter). If I'm brutally honest, much of it has to do with qualities in those people and things I desire to see in myself. They, all without exception, inspire me.
I am, like a crow or baby, attracted first to the shiniest brightest substances. I can't deny it. But it's what's beyond the gilded, whimsical and superficial that keeps me. Subtlety is often inexplicably lost on me, of this, I'm acutely aware but I do look into the depths, into the mirror too, of what lies beneath.
I can only hope that when weighed in the balance, I too am not found wanting.