Whisker On My Chinny-Chin-Chin

    So, I last left you all with our latest addition to our little spinsterhood family (Hamlet the noble stray). Unfortunately, for him, we had to leave our apartment--but gratefully we walked into our new/old home nestled within the Tower District. But no need to fret! We quickly made friends with another stray. Stray he may not be, though. A few weeks back when we did a walk through of our now lovely little home, we spotted a cat on the wall in the backyard. We immediately swooned, and the previous owner (picking up on our amorous nature toward the cat) subtly remarked that if we wanted the cat, he was ours; she couldn't take him along. We thought she was kidding.  

    That Friday afternoon after we had moved all of our big furniture, I was perusing the back yard and heard an awful cry coming from the far end of the yard. Low and behold, here was that very same cat, hissing at me and staring me down with his yellow ominous eyes. His sibilating could not frighten this young bitty away, though. With a little help from my fellow bitty, we quickly de-jaundiced his eyes and heart. 

Meet our latest addition Edgar, who came a rap tapping on our door crying Nevermore--leave me hungry; we call him Poe for short:

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But our continual catnapping is not the heart of this blog. The main issue I wish to address is facial hair. Hi, I am Jessica. I am twenty-two years old and I have whiskers on my chin. 

I remember the days of old when my brother, sister and I used to go visit our great-grandma and ransack through her library, tip on her type writer, and climb her gnarly tree out in her front yard. We loved our stubborn old grandma. She had a stern voice, endearing blue eyes, and flailing whiskers. I remember them vividly, poking out from her chin, and my sister and I would try to stifle our giggling. Here I am now, twenty-two, and my chin mimics my dear old grandmothers. So what does one young bitty do? Buys herself a good pair of tweezers. 

Luckily, I am not alone in this plucking event. My roommate and I have made it into a game of sorts--a "hangout" session, if you will. We like to call this "Whisker Patrol." We enjoy sitting in the living room, soaked in sun, plucking our chin whiskers; it's become a favorite pass time, really. I am often reminded of my grandmother and her whiskers glistening in the light that peeked in through her blinds. We now have another commonality, the only difference is I put my tweezers to good use. I am lucky to have a fellow young bitty to share in my curmudgeon-ity. It's these minute things that perpetuate this spinster attitude--lifestyle I've acquired. Things as small as a whisker on the tip of my chin. 

The Cat's in the Bag

When talking about young/old spineless hags, where does one begin? Ah, yes of course: cats. Every good spinster has her feline. Having a cat serves as a mirror really, both cat and hag are independent, frumpy, and moody as hell. Spinsters don't have the luxury--or perhaps the need to look upon a significant other, so what better than having a smaller, harrier form of themselves lounging about the house? Unfortunately, my roommate and I do not have the luxury of having a cat(s) due to the fact we live in an apartment complex that charges out the wazoo for pet ownership. That does not confine us though; we resort to catnapping. This, my friends, is a poignant sign that you just may be a spinster. 

Meet our friend Hamlet, also known as "Hammy" for short.
We heard this little handsome man crying outside our apartment door. We couldn't resist. We littered the entry way with bits of salami, but surprisingly, he preferred our third roommate's dog's food (she still does not know this little guy was in our house all night). We don't have time for luring men into our home, we're too busy catnapping: a positive sign of onset spinsterhood. 

Welcome to My Spinster"hood"

 As of late, I have been obsessing over certain habits I have acquired over the past couple of years. Not only habits, but interests, vernacular, regimins--life style choices. I've become more comfortable with the idea of going places alone, and sometimes I'd prefer to be alone. I'll choose a quiet night at home with my cup of Earl Grey tea over a hazy night down at Livingstone's. Yes, some may say that it is merely a passing of time--growing older--but I am only the mere age of twenty-two. When trying to explain this to a friend he only replied "it just sounds like any single girl's life"but I had to disagree. The word spinster popped into my head. Spinster. Meaning:

1. A woman who has remained single beyond the conventional age for marrying.

2. A single woman.

3. A person whose occupation is spinning.

Now I do not entirely believe I am beyond the age of marrying, but the abundance of babies and wedding bands that circle a large group of friends and acquaintances should make me believe otherwise. A single woman, now that is not entirely true, but I still believe myself to be singular--dependent on only myself. I do not occupy myself with spinning, but I could certainly use it as a metaphor (as I do with most everything I encounter) and say that within my small singular life I feel as though I am always spinning and spinning ready to go tumbling to the ground. 

So needless to say, I want to write a blog about spinsterhood for the twenty-something year old. I am lucky enough to have a roommate who shares in my solitude, so this blog will focus on both of our perspectives and our happenings of being singular, unmarried,  forever spinning ladies--two old bitties. I want to focus on the mundane, the quiet activities that separate us from our "yolo" generation. Yes, awful, I know. These activities could be as mundane as planting flowers, having crafty Tuesdays, or picking out an unwanted whisker. 

Here are some blogs I found interesting and somewhat appropriate with my own blog idea: 

-http://margaretandhelen.com/

-http://www.smartplanet.com/blog/intelligent-energy/grumpy-old-womans-energy-tips/16315

I feel like these two blogs are more like a conversational piece, which I eventually want to incorporate. I want to express our cynicism and our bitterness toward this isolation we feel from others our age but all while employing humor. Because we truly don't take our loneliness quite so seriously! 

I hope to incorporate literature too (especially poetry--duh) because I feel that that also separates us as we cling to Romanticism and the 20th century, afraid to leap onto new modern branches. So here is a link to a blog I found interesting:

http://www.thethepoetry.com/

So, Spinsterhood for the Twenty-Something Year Old: Two Young Bitties. Hooray!