Last weekend, I skated with Crude City. This bout held some significance in the fact that it was only the second time my parents have seen me skate in the five years that I’ve been derbying. My mom’s favorite hobby nowadays is photography, which is a good thing because her pics are the only ones I have of the bout. (That’s a little different from when I was skating with HRD, and captures of my crazed expressions were a dime a dozen.)

BTW, we won by like 150 points or something like that. I promised myself not to get caught up in that this time; I’m just doing it because I can, not because I’m trying to prove anything. Although it was nice to have two 18-point jams in one night.

Tonight, I’m starting on my first celebratory weekend. It won’t be as good as last year’s first weekend, but I get to see one of my favorite bands with my favorite sister (okay, my one and only sister, but she’s bad-ass like me). Then, tomorrow night, I get to scout out the team I’ll be skating against next month.

Good friends, good music, good hits for bad bitches….awww yeah!

A year ago, I was flat broke. I had just injured my bad knee during WFTDA Regionals, I was emotionally spent from a year of being disrespected, and I had spent all my money trying to force an extracurricular activity into a sport.

This year, my body feels great (even if it’s overweight), I can hold a conversation without yelling or being yelled at (mostly), and I just booked a real family vacation. And by real, I mean we are taking The Kitten to see and play in real snow for the first time, not just squeezing in a day’s visit to an amusement park because Mommy’s too busy acting like a bad-ass.

It’s funny how everything works out for the best (even though I’m still a bad-ass).

Last Monday, I floated the Comal River like a rookie. Maybe it was because it was The Kitten’s first time to float the river, and I was a little nervous, hoping she would love tubing as much as I do. Maybe it was a bit of showing off in front of my cousins on my dad’s side who all are younger than me. Maybe it was way too much cider. But anyway, I fried my legs for the first time in twenty years. And not just fried all over…burned in a candy-cane pattern. Yes, I have red and white diagonal stripes up and down the fronts of my legs. Lovely!

Still, my candy-cane legs can’t top the marks I received from skating the Pride Parade Saturday night. Before the parade even started, I hit a car. Poor car! It was just minding its own business, and I came along and tripped into it. It was too dark to see how bad my Catazonianess damaged it, but the bruise on my upper arm says there might have been a dent in the passenger door. The bruise is even bigger than the one when I fell in the clothes hamper, which you can actually see in the picture on my Blogger profile. Nice!

By the way, I’m waiting to see pictures from that night, so if you have any of the roller derby girls rolling down Westheimer, either on wheels or on the ground wrastling, put ‘em out there! And thanks, Rushin’ Cleavage, for such an enjoyable evening.

I didn’t think the week could get any better than once again getting the crap beat out of me by stationary objects, but then I went to a Roger Creager concert yesterday evening, right smack-dab in the middle of what I like to think of as my old ‘hood (Oak Forest), and I know it’s hard to believe that only about 75-100 people would brave the heat wave from hell to see him at such a great venue (a little league ballfield), but the few, the brave, the crazy were rewarded with a free beer from Roger himself. Awesome.

As previously explained, I took a brief break from reality this past weekend. I claimed to be “helping out” my Brawlers as they played one of the best roller derby teams in Texas. Once I saw the proof of it, I realized what I really did was stand around and make funny faces as well as be distracted by my reality. Yes, I’m waving to The Kitten, and yes, there seem to be a million pics of me standing around. Sometimes I prayed (see the blurry score behind me..the number not in double digits is ours). Sometimes I did look a bit like my old self (you can see my butt that sent that jammer flying). Mostly I had fun even though I felt (and still feel) pain.

I was reminded of some of the reasons I quit. My husband having to drag my daughter away from me, kicking and screaming because she wanted to stay and have fun. Being put in the penalty box for two things that I know I didn’t do and not even getting a minor for blatantly (although not purposely) tripping the jammer. (Don’t get me wrong on this…I respect the refs, but I think we’ve made their job next to impossible.) Knowing that no matter how hard I try, it’s not going to be enough for somebody, anybody.

What really brought me back to reality though is seeing for sure that all the weight I lost while on the cardio program is back. I can’t wait to get in that leopard-print tankini I ordered! Meow!

I don’t know why I keep up with this anymore. I no longer participate in the reason I started this blog…derby…although I did stop by the afterparty last week. Nobody wants to hear about work…even though my job is pretty awesome now. The Kitten resists becoming involved in any extracurricular activities…although I constantly ask her if she wants to swim or dance or kick and hit things. Life has become pretty boring since I decided to relax this year.

Rodeo is done, and I’m just waiting for April so anniversary and Easter and birthdays and traveling and holidays and my favorite season can begin. Maybe then Catazonia won’t be lackin’ in the crackin’.

I’m taking my first spring break in years. I’m finally in a job where I’m encouraged to take vacation, I actually have vacation to take because my employer respected my experience when I was hired, and The Kitten is taking her very first spring break ever. Boy howdy, do I need a spring break!

• Rodeo is kicking my butt…not from working, but from listening to everyone complain.
• Work is kicking my butt…The Dark Side is working against the Force.
• My husband’s truck got its butt kicked by a Mustang last Thursday night…damn the rain that lasted way too long and helped to depress me on top of everything.

Wish I could use my free plane ticket and take a real spring break, but that will have to wait.

I used to joke about staying away from the Three P’s of Responsibility: Pets, Plants, and Parenting. As long as I was free of pets, plants, and kids, my life would be perfect. Then my realtor gave me a houseplant when we moved into our current home and swore that it was one even I couldn’t kill. It was all downhill from there.

Two years later, The Kitten came along, and while I’m not the greatest mother in the world, she doesn’t complain…much. Her father…now that’s a different story. However, we survived her first teenage fit last week when we wouldn’t take her to the rodeo on our night off…remember, she’s only five. By the way, I received another houseplant at the birth of my only child, and both plants are miraculously still alive. So, I think I’ve got the plants and the parenting down, but guess what?

I killed off another pet. Last year, we had the hamsters, Beautiful Sparkle and Foola, who lasted about six and eight months, respectively. Just a few days ago, I introduced you to Sparkly the Turtle, who The Kitten received for Christmas. Obviously, Sparkly didn’t enjoy having her picture plastered all over the web, and she finally gave up this weekend after not eating a damn thing for the past two months. And yes, I did try to feed her! Maybe third time’s a charm on the pet thing? What should we kill get for Christmas this year?

The Kitten and Sparkly

Originally uploaded by Catazon.

The Kitten and Sparkly are celebrating. You can’t see it, but she is decked out in brand new bootcut jeans and a belt with crosses and hearts outlined in rhinestones, and she’s still wearing the boots she inherited from her cousin a couple of years ago. I’m celebrating, too, although I will stand by my practice of no pictures, please. It might get kinda crazy since I’m hanging out with my sister at the cookoff.

The 2009 Show has begun. I spent most of the weekend at Reliant Park…the Membership Dance Friday night, drink inventory on Saturday morning, and the equipment setup from hell on Sunday. After all that, I didn’t feel very guilty while celebrating Mardi Gras at Willie’s last night…listening to a good band, eating fried pickles, and drinking too many margaritas.

The goal was to get the taxes done before March, but I also promised to buy The Kitten some western jeans for Go Texan Day on Friday. If she’s anything like me (and she is), we will visit all the Cavender’s in town to find some jeans that fit. Sounds like a fun week, one which will end with my attempt to attend the largest cookoff in the world not only on Saturday night when the main group of friends will be at our regular stomping grounds but Friday as well so I can see and be seen. It all boils down to whether we trust a houseful of cousins alone.

Tomorrow at lunch, the city is staging an event called the Rodeo Roundup. Now that I work downtown, I get to check it out. No work meetings on my schedule yet, so I will most likely disappear for the whole two hours. One of the perks of having a boss half a country away. Then the parade is Saturday morning, and unless The Kitten changes her mind, we will be there, too. I already posted my rodeo work schedule, so I guess that means I’ll see everyone in April (unless you read my Facebook and Twitter updates, of course).

My daughter’s name is not The Kitten. It’s really Sydney. Since she was born, we have called her Sydney Bean…and every other variation of Bean. Beanie Baby, Beanie Weenie, Beana, whatever… Our whole extended family calls her Bean.

Last night, The Kitten asks, “What’s my middle name?” I say, “You know your middle name. What is it?”

“Bean?”

“No, your middle name is Marie!”, I reply with a big smile.

She puts her hands on her head and exasperatedly says, “I can’t believe I told Aidan my middle name is Bean!”

Too cute! Although, I think she *really* likes Aidan, so it might have been a bit embarrassing for her. Good to know I’m already doing my duty as a parent.