Friday, December 25, 2009

Merry Christmas!

Help yourself to a cookie

Leo wishes everyone a mellow and relaxing day!

Ally on the other hand sends the evil eye to the one who has brought forth such shame and humiliation.
Sorry kitty!

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

More Childhood Toys; Marx Dollhouse & Farm Set

After I gave up Little People, I moved onto the Marx line of toys.
I had the lithographed metal colonial dollhouse:

I also had a one story but can't find an image of it anyplace.

Along with the house I had one of the Happy Time Barns. I was so sad when I discovered my mother had given it away. I realized I hadn't played with it in probably years but I would have liked to have kept it.

This is a similar model to one I had. I got tired of wading through pictures of Karl MARX every time I typed in "Marx Barn" when I was searching. No matter that I said I was looking for a TOY not where a communist leader kept his cows.

Monday, December 7, 2009

Favorite Toys of my Childhood; Fisher-Price Airport & Village

Seeing that its Christmas time and my kids are all clamoring for this toy or that game I figured I would reminisce about the toys I loved back in the late 60's and early 70"s (and maybe a little beyond).

The first toys that I can remember being head over heals about was the Fisher Price Little People sets.

I had the Airport

and the Village.

I spent hours and hours playing with them. Making up stories or just arranging the little people.
I look at the sets that are sold today and they just dont hold a candle to these old classics.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Me of Little Faith


Horribly, deeply and beyond normal obsessive.

Thats me.

Once I get started down a path I cant seem to change direction.

I guess the problem is I dont do well with unknowns. I need to know exactly what the story is and how its going to end before I read the first page. I'm surprised I enjoy some of the TV reality shows as much as I do.

But I get around the small inconvenience of not knowing who is going to be the Biggest Loser, Last Survivor, First to get to the pit-stop for this leg of the race etc by watching the last 2 minutes of the weekly show before I start at the beginning.

You may wonder why on EARTH I would do that.... its because it gives me a certain sense relaxation while I watch the show knowing that when so-and-so is professing that he has the perfect plan and knows exactly who is going home this week, I can be laughing knowing the plan has no chance in hell of working. I dont get worked up worrying and wondering whats going to happen.

See I told you I was a little on the over the top side.

It started long ago. I have this memory of when I was about to turn 5 years old. My parents had brought the biggest box I had ever seen and put it up on top of the refrigerator. They told me it was for my birthday party the next day and they were not going to tell me what it was.

No matter what.

The gauntlet was thrown down and I was never one to pass up a challenge. I can remember laying on the floor, crying, sobbing, BEGGING for them to tell me. I flung myself on the sofa. I curled up in a corner. I pulled every trick in the book.

And as to be expected my mother reluctantly gave in and brought the box down and showed me the brand new, totally retro, extra cool sleeping bag they had bought for me at Orbachs. I slept well that night. My parents on the other hand probably tossed and turned all night wondering what kind of little monster they were raising.

I have a picture of me at my birthday party the next day, lifting the lid with the biggest look of happy surprise on my face... as if it the contents were totally unexpected. I deserve an Oscar for that performance (either that or a good slap upside the behind).

In truth though, it wasn't so much that I wanted to know what was in the box because I thought it was good, I wanted to know what was in the box because I was afraid it would be something bad. Then I would have spent the whole night being excited only to be let down the next day when I opened it up and found out it was a years supply of knee socks.

I also know how to fix the "life is like a box of chocolates" problem too.... I cut all the pieces in half before I get started so I dont accidentally bite into one with marzipan or hazelnuts.


There are just some things I'm not willing to leave up to chance.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009


It's the end of the November festivities and we take a bit of a breather and a huge sigh of relief as we drop grandma off at the airport this morning. We left her shouting at some old man who had committed some act of impertinence against her person while waiting at curb side check in. We pretended not to notice and burned rubber down the exit lane.

How is it that old people get so dang cantankerous and unhygienic? I swear if I ever start to act like that I give my children permission to zap me with a stun gun until my brain rewires itself. I never want my children to find the need to hide while I visit, roll their eyes behind my back when I talk, force me to take a shower because I don't think I need one or make up excuses not to come and visit me during their children's summer vacations.

As I strip the sheets from the futon and throw them into the wash on the sanitary setting, I also promise never to lie to my children about actually taking that shower, giving them a wet towel but leaving behind a bone dry bathtub because I didn't think anyone would check. I will not suck my teeth endlessly after every meal, stick my fingers in the pumpkin pie, knock the children off their chairs with my ample bosom while trying to get to the appetizers before they do and I definitely will not profess that I work out 5 days a week at the gym when I cannot walk up a short flight of stairs.

I promise never to criticize their home when I get pissed off at something they do and tell them they should check the cleanliness of their toilets more often. Nor will I ask them if they plan on getting back to their own gym soon, as I can tell they have put on a few pounds since my last visit.

I will also not get into an "I told you so fight" with the 8 year old, loudly suck food off my fingers in a restaurant or curse at the waitress under my breath when she does not bring my coffee as quickly as I want it. I will also not sit on their couch and sleep with the TV on and then insist I was not sleeping so NO they cannot change the channel and watch their show and I certainly will not move into my room where there is a perfectly good TV waiting for me because the TV in the den is bigger than that one in there. And I will not ever, no matter what or how much I want to, invite myself on every vacation they plan, saying I can share a bed with one of the little kids and it will be ever so much fun spending even more time together as a family.

OH geez!!! I lied in my last post. I did turn into the bitchy daughter-in-law! I tried and tried and tried to avoid it and I succumbed anyway.

And how does fate punish me for this?

In the most ironic way possible.

I get a phone call this afternoon letting us know that she has landed safely in Vegas and "guess who I sat next to on the plane? Orlando Bloom and we had a lovely conversation all the way there."

My eye is twitching again.

I am now searching for an e-mail for Mr Bloom so I can write a heartfelt apology note.

I will end this with one of Sarah's art pieces she did of Orlando a few years back in his Lord of the Rings days.....

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Can I has gun now?

Ahhhh family!

The holidays bring everyone together. Lots of cooking, reminiscing, cuddling babies, taking pictures, watching TV specials, gathering around the table for meals, warm crackling fires, yummy smells...

Theres a week of my life I'll never get back.

No seriously... I love my family... ADORE THEM..... I just don't tolerate some with the same calm patience that I do others..

Take my mother-in-law for example (no really go ahead help yourself). No matter how many times Jeff and I say that we will approach her visit with an air of acceptance and the knowledge that she does not live here and since we only see her a few times times a year, "how bad can one week be?", we quickly eat our words as we each end of up running for cover after the first few hours of her arrival.

There are so many stories... so many moments that I could share... but I will refrain from sounding like an bitchy daughter-in-law and only pass along this one recent event.

Tomorrow is Jeffrey's 9th birthday. Grandma wanted to take him out to lunch today so he decided on California Pizza Kitchen. In general they do not do anything special for birthdays but grandma wasn't gong to let that stop her. When we got there she grabbed the manager by the arm, dragging her aside to announce our celebration. The lady manager knows us as we have eaten there many times over the years. After she extracted herself from grandmas grip she smiled over at us and said "No worries, we will take care of everything".

After the meal, the waitress brought a HUGE sundae and placed it down in front of Jeffrey. He had to get up on his knees to blow out the candle.

I scooped some ice cream out for everybody and we were all enjoying it when suddenly loud and clear grandma announced:

"This is better than a blow job!"

Alex's spoon stopped in mid air, an ice cube flew out of Jeff's mouth and landed somewhere in front of Katherine, my eye started to twitch and a woman headed for the bathroom ran into a chair.

Jeff painfully swallowed the rest of his drink and wincing slightly noted "Well now THAT was something I didn't need to hear".

And if the younger two come up to me later and ask me what Grandma meant I will definitely have to use my favorite line "Go ask your father"......

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Exercise for the physically unfit



That is the only way to describe my hiking experience today.

I trailed behind everyone like an old mule someone brought along because they felt sorry for her stuck in the barn all day and she looked like she could use some fresh air.

I didn't even have the luxury of carrying a pack so I could use it as an excuse for my falling half a mile behind everyone.

I shooed the group ahead so everyone didn't keep turning around to check on me to see if I had collapsed. Though I figure it was more for fear they would have to carry me back to the car then actually worried about my state of well being. My family loves me, but there is a limit to what they are willing to do.

Who knew there were miles of long hiking trails through the mountains not 1/4 mile from our house. I suppose the signs and trail-heads might have given me a clue but I wasn't exactly paying attention to those things since we moved in here.

We have decided we need to be more creative in getting the kids active and doing family stuff on the weekend. So yesterday we took them to the park to play soccer. I played goalie which I figured would be the easiest job since all I had to do was stand there and make sure the ball didn't get past me. What I failed to take into consideration was that there was no net behind me so when a ball snuck past me (maybe once or twice, or ten) I had to go retrieve it. It was slightly more physically demanding than I first thought.

Today we headed out to the trails and despite my continue lagging behind we all had a good time.

There were bunnies in the brush, dogs on leashes and several colorful piles of coyote poop. Anyone in earshot knew when Jeffrey spotted it. Amazing what an 8 year old finds exciting.

Or frightening.

We were on the way back and Jeffrey had trotted a bit a head of us when all of sudden he threw his arms over his head and fell into a crouched fetal position, sending his water bottle flying in the opposite direction. We all stood and stared at him. Jeff and I wondered how we had missed someone yelling "Duck & Cover". There was also the possibility of a sniper attack and Jeffrey was the only one aware enough to sense it.

"What's wrong????"

"Something landed on my head.. it was a bug, no it was a bee...well  I dont know what it was but it smacked me real good."

Upon closer examination we could find no sign of a bug, a bee, a leaf or anything at all.

Jeff picked him up and he stayed curled in a ball suspended above the ground. Jeff gave him a shake and slowly his legs straightened out and returned to earth.

"You're fine."

"I'm not so sure about that."

But he marched on towards the car, glancing over his shoulder every few feet to check for unexpected flying objects.

We figure at least if there ever is a nuclear war, Jeffrey will make it through just fine.

Photos of our day in the park yesterday:

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Captain America Wishes Me Happy Birthday

Drawn for me on my 16th Birthday by Don Rico, Captain America's illustrator.
(Click to make picture larger)

Saturday, February 28, 2009

Musical Storage Units

Jeff and I have been playing this great game that I think everyone should try.

Its called Musical Storage Units.

First you have to start with a WHOLE lot of stuff. Preferably stuff you don't know what to do with and throw in a heaping helping of parent's treasures that you have inherited, followed by generous amounts of your adult children's belongings that they do not have room for and finally a bunch of large pieces of furniture that cost too much to just give away.

Now place all items in several very large expensive storage units in an extremely haphazard fashion with no particular order or organization what-so-ever.

Leave units alone for 8-12 months.

Decide that its costing too much, so rent another one or two smaller units and rearrange everything into those and make a stab at getting rid of some things that by now you've decided you can part with.

Leave units alone for 6-8 months.

Once again decide units are costing too much so again rent smaller units and declare loudly to anyone who will listen that THIS time you are making a clean break. Everything must go. At this point you find some paperwork boxes that are dated 10 years ago, you can grind those, you decide that some of the furniture that originally cost you too much to give away is really taking up space and you will never use it again anyway, give these away to anyone who will take it, then go through old memory boxes, get overwhelmed with decisions and shove everything back into the smaller units and decide you have done enough for this time.

Leave units alone for 4-6 months.

Finally realize you are pouring money and mental energy into storing crap. Arrive at storage units and tag everything bigger than a medium box for a garage sale, give away or actually find a place for it. Realize that the parents treasures were THEIR treasures and not yours and make hard decisions about what to keep and what can be tossed. Give adult children an ultimatum that if they want their stuff they have to come take it or it will be donated to someone who wants it (the Goodwill) . Bring home all boxes of personal items and either find a place for them or include them in the pending garage sale.

Tell the folks at the storage units that its been nice while it lasted but its time for your relationship to come to end, hand over the keys and say good bye.

Wasn't that fun?

But be warned, this game can take several years or more to complete so before you start playing, make sure you have that much of your life to spare until you can win.

Friday, February 27, 2009

The Game of Life

So I haven't died, been maimed in a freak accident, gotten on my way home, or hogtied by my children and left in the closet.

I've been playing tennis with life and it keeps me busy with killer serves and not to believed backhanded returns. On life's part, not mine.

About a month ago I was served a washing machine with attitude. It not only was giving me little number/letter combination error messages on its control panel but it would lie to me and say there was a minute left in it's cycle and an hour later it was still rolling the clothes around its innards.

The clothes were coming out soaking wet and often not smelling like spring fresh rain as my detergent promised.

We are in a financial bind right now (complete other story) so I wasn't looking forward to calling the washing machine repairman so he could charge me $100 for something I was sure was an easy fix. I poured over the instruction manual but could find no answers.

So the other night, after spending 2 hours fighting with it, begging it to spin the clothes dry, pleading with it to tell me the truth about how much longer it would be and when it finally shut itself off and presented me with dripping wet stinky clothes, I remembered the immortal words of Jeff and scurried off to find out if Google was indeed still my friend.

I ran a 30 second search on troubleshooting and immediately came up with an answer.

The drain filter was clogged. One screwdriver and a giant hairball with a life of its own later and my machine was running like new.

And it didn't cost me a cent. Score one for me!

Of course this could have been fixed a month ago if the dang manual mentioned there was a user friendly panel hiding the drain filter that anyone with a double digit IQ could figure out. But then the washing machine repairmen couldn't look like heroes to countless washing machine owners across America.

Personally I prefer that my heroes don't charge me for their services.

That hasn't been the only tough volley I have had to deal with over the past month, but I think one problem per blog entry is enough.

See now why can't life take an example from me... and only fling me one ball at a time. I could put all my attention on it, figure out what needed to be done, create a plan of action and get it handled in a timely manner. A slow, perfect return.

Not turn the ball machine on high and let 'er rip, laughing as I dodge and weave, swinging wildly until I retreat defeated out the back gate as the balls ricochet off my rear end.

Not a pretty sight I can assure you.

Saturday, February 7, 2009


This afternoon I needed to get some "baby prevention" items. As I was looking over the whole feminine items aisle I noticed some products called "feminine enhancement" cremes.

(Any of my older offspring who might have started reading this have leapt from their chairs and run screaming from the room).

I was amused by their names and claims but didn't want to stand around too long looking at them because I embarrass easily. It would be my luck that someone I knew would happen upon me reading the back of "Oh MY! Maximum Pleasure for Her".

I bought the stuff I came for which was embarrassing enough to show up at the counter with only a box of birth control but I was too cheap to throw in a couple of candy bars or a magazine I didnt need and there wasn't enough time to do any other shopping. So I bit the bullet and placed my purchase on the check out counter and tired to ignore the man behind me who suddenly seemed very friendly.

When I got home I was still wondering what all those products do. Warming cremes I get. They make you WARM..... but enhancement gels? I thought "enhancement" was for guys.

So of course I asked Jeff the human encyclopedia.

After the raised eyebrow and sideways glance he said he didn't have a clue how they worked and reminded me that Google is your friend.

So I sat down at the computer and typed in "How do female enhancement gels work?" and hit enter.

At that very moment a chat window pops up from Facebook from a high school friend reminding me about an upcoming reunion.

"enhancement gels work" got cut off my google query and appeared in the chat window and when I hit enter I sent it to him.


I stared dumbstruck at the screen.

He immediately typed back...."Do they really?" with a big smilie face.

I think my whole body became jell-o and my fingers froze.

I fumbled around trying to come up with an excuse and managed "Oh I am SO sorry.... I was writing a research paper and your chat window caught part of my writing."

OH Yeah.....that's as lame as it sounds.

He typed back "LOL... well my wife and I have never tried them, but if you say they work maybe we should give some a try?" And another smilie face.

I am officially mortified!

Monday, February 2, 2009


I created another blog of pictures that were taken of me 40+ years ago. These are few of my favorite pictures from there.

Click on the link under Other Blogs to see the rest.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Competitive Competition

Stop looking at me
Don't tell me what to do
Then stop looking at me
MOM Katherine is telling me what to do
MOM Jeffrey is looking at me and not eating his oatmeal

Ahh breakfast! Such a relaxing way to start the day.

Competition is something I am not accustomed to. I grew up as an only child (had siblings elsewhere but that's a different story). So I was always number one, chose what to watch on TV, sat where I wanted to sit in the car, had mom and dads attention when I wanted it. Yes I was a spoiled little princess but I didn't know it at the time.

It was a bit of a shock when I had kids and they started trying to one up each other (and anyone else for that matter) in any way that they could.

One fine school morning

Friend: "OW what happened to your knee"

Katherine: "I fell down on the sidewalk. You should see how big the boo-boo is under the band aid."

Friend: "Ive had one bigger than that and didn't even use a band aid."

Immediately Katherine starts running though the list of her past boo-boos not wanting to let anyone think they had suffered more than she had.

She upped the ante. "One time I fell down and scraped my knee AND my elbow both at the same time. I didn't let my mom put a band aid on either one of them"

"WOW... that was like the one time I fell down scraped my knee, elbow AND cut my chin open. See I still have the scar"

Katherine scowled. Apparently flashing a scar trumped her not wearing a band aid. Time to pull out the big guns.

"One time when I was in Russia, I ran into a wall and knocked my front tooth all the way out of my mouth."

She smiled and triumphantly scooped up her backpack, confidant she thrown the winning punch.

"Well at least it grew back.... Last year my brother dropped a brick on my toe and the nail came off and now it will never grow back."

OOOoooo knockout! She was down for the count.

But it was not all in vain. She may have lost that fight but she was gaining valuable knowledge in how to one up your opponent. Knowledge she routinely used on Jeffrey.

Jeffrey flashes his piece of candy. "Look what I got from school for having the most table points"

"Wow that's great. I got 3 pieces just like that, and a cupcake and some punch because we had a party in our room with balloons"


Jeffrey: " Look at how many French fries I got...  more than you did"

"That is a lot but my cheeseburger is bigger than yours and see how much cheese is oozing out the sides. I cant even see your cheese"


But Jeffrey is learning from the best so often, when she least expects it, she gets broadsided by own her creation.

Katherine: "Look at how big my Lego building is"

Jeffrey: "Mine is big too"

Katherine: "Yes but mine is bigger.. I'm bigger than you so that means I can make taller."

By now she is hoarding the bricks and shooting Jeffrey building tips that she assures him he is not yet old enough to master.

Jeffrey: "I could make mine as big as yours if I wanted to...."

Katherine: "No, you can't but that's OK... one day you will be able to make something as big as this but then I will still be older and taller so mine will be bigger and higher then yours anyway."

She is building as fast as she can so he cannot catch up to her.

Jeffrey contemplates tattling on her but instead starts breaking his bricks up and putting them into the bin.

Apparently he hears the freezer opening...

I call them for ice cream: "Are your toys put away?"

Jeffrey: "Mine are, but Katherine's aren't"

Katherine shoots him a look

Jeffrey helpfully points out: "Hers are all over the place"

Katherine:" Jeffrey! Help me put them away"

Jeffrey: "I put mine away while you were still building. I guess you were right. Your building was bigger than mine. It's sure going to take a long time to put all those bricks away."

Ahh the sweet taste of ice cream flavored revenge.

K: I'm taller than you
J: I'm cuter than YOU
K: Mom likes me better than you
J: Stop choking me
K: Don't lick my neck

Friday, January 23, 2009

A Birthday President

Where does the time go?

Another January has rolled around.

I have had yet another birthday. It came even though I kept trying to find a way to just skip it.

Even though this year I got one of the best birthday presents I have had in a long while.

A new president. And a new hope that what has been going on in this country will be turned around and we can once again feel good about being Americans. Not embarrassed and somehow responsible for the past 8 years even though it wasn't my vote that got us into this mess in the first place.

But either way, I feel a joyful and heart swelling rush that we are on a better track. A track that will lead us to a future that we can feel good about for our kids.

Now that I am all of 44, I feel like I have lived so much longer than the sum of those years.

I think I am getting soft in my old age, nostalgic.

I look at my kids and wonder where did THEY come from? Who are these adults that have their own lives, their own beliefs, and their own path that I don't have a say in anymore?

My oldest three have become their own people and I hope that I have given them what they need to make it in this world. They are each so different, so vibrant, so independent.

Each with goals and dreams for the future that are uniquely their own. Busy with their own life, I don't get to see them as much as I would hope, but having the younger 3 still under my wing it takes some of the sting out of that.

My oldest has moved a state away and I haven't seen him in over a year. We talk on the phone but that isn't really the same. I miss seeing him, seeing his smile and hearing his goofy laugh. He was my baby. Bald, often cranky and absolutely adorable. Now he is tall, handsome and going to be a daddy.

I know that has not sunk in yet. Because if he is going to be a daddy than I am going to be a grandma.

Grandmas are old people who sit in rocking chairs and knit and have gray hair pulled up into a bun and wear tiny little glasses on the end of their nose.

Being that I do not fit that bill I cannot possibly be a grandma. There that settles that. I feel better now.

I still have vivid memories of removing a stuffed Big Bird out of a puddle of water on the bathroom counter one night 18 years ago, trying to soak his fuzzy yellow butt in a towel so he didn't drip all over the floor. As I was grousing about the lack of care they were showing for their belongings, it occurred to me that one day Big Bird wouldn't be on my bathroom counter and the perpetrators would not be asleep in the other room cuddled up asleep with Monkey and Hippo.

And so it has come to pass.

But now when I go into the bathroom I am greeted by 2 pairs of socks and a discarded button down shirt. All removed for comfort by the wearer before engaging in bathroom activities. This is a daily sight, no matter how many times I tell him to put his stuff in the laundry.

I remind myself again, one day I'm going to blink and those socks and shirt will be on his own bathroom floor, not mine, the wearer will be taller than me and he might even be a world away where I cant snuggle him into bed every night.

Time passes and children grow. They grow old and we grow older.

I have to take the time to be with them now, while they are still home. When I can read to them that story I keep putting off because before you know it, they will be reading it to their own children.

Here is my grandma at 103 with Sarah.
She had 5 generations below her.
She was a great-great-great grandma.
She passed away last year.
We will miss you grandma.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Birthday Dinner


We had a great dinner at Cho-Cho San tonight.

We got there early and were the only ones in the entire Teppan area.
It wasn't long before it started to fill up but it was fun while it lasted.

I just love their food and the kids do too.

Here's our cook doing the famous volcano with an onion.

And here is the food... (OH YUMMY)

And here are the partners in crime who behaved themselves rather well for the entire evening. Jeffrey used to be terrified of coming here. The fire scared the bejeezus out of him and if he didn't have a complete melt down, he would crawl under his chair and hide.... Ahhh how quickly they grow!

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Craig's List

The wonder of wonders!

Want something gone..... Post it on Craig's list and the phone will start ringing.

But beware of the dark side.

People who want your stuff but only on their terms.

First there's the people who call for the free stuff you are giving away.

These people are always a little on the odd side wearing light blue leisure suits or mumus and often showing up in a 70's van or an AMC Gremlin.

They will call you at 11 PM at night or 7 AM on a Sunday morning. Unbridled avarice knows no courtesy.

And when they arrive to pick up said free item they will then proceed to ask 500 questions, walk around the item, stare at the item, touch the item, turn it upside, shake their head, and tell you they aren't really sure if they want it or not.

Then they want know if you can drive it over to their house. Or if you can hold it for a week or two until they borrow their cousin's truck. Or if you can load it for them when they do borrow their cousin's truck.

COME ON PEOPLE..... its free. I am giving it away because I no longer want to deal with. I don't want to take it to you, hold it for you, or load it for you.

If you want it and it's free you should be thanking me and not trying to figure out how to make me work for you. Also, if its free, you can pretty much assume that its not in pristine, show room quality condition. Don't look surprised or disappointed when you notice it has a few flaws. I am not going to pay you to take it, so take it or leave it, but make up your mind.

Then there are the people who are willing to buy things from you. This automatically make them suspicious of the item you are selling. Over the phone they demand exact dimensions, complete history, and names of previous owners, if any.

NEWS FLASH: I have placed the ad on the appropriate LOCAL Graig's List to make it easy for you to come on by and take a look for yourself. BUT do not drive for an hour then complain to me that the color is closer to mahogany then to cherry and therefore does not match your decor and now you have to drive all the way home empty handed. If you are decorating your home with $20 used items, you might want to lower your standards just a touch.

And then there are the people who call after you have promised the item to someone else but before that someone has come to pick it up.

Let me make this clear: No I will not let you rush over and see if you can get there first because you clearly want it more than they do. I also will not give you my address so you can come and wait outside in case the other person doesn't show up or doesn't take it, thereby assuring you are next in line.

If I tell you I will call you if the other person does not show up.... I really mean it. Don't get mad and yell that I'm lying because no one ever calls you back. Perhaps if you had a better attitude? Just a thought.

There are also those who will call and become ecstatic that you have just the item they are looking for. They will take your address and give you an exact time they will be there and make you promise not to let anyone else have it because OMG this is like SO perfect!

And of course they do not show up.

I really shouldn't complain though. If it weren't for these people I don't know what I would do with the stuff.

Most stuff is pretty decent, but is taking up too much space and I want it gone. I just don't want to deal with the riff raff. Just come pick it up, I don't care what you do with it, you don't have to tell me what you are going to do with it,  just don't give me a hard time in the process.

 I'm glad its out of my life and into yours.

Heres a couple of pictures of some of my Riff Raff.....
But they're mine so I forgive them

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Dear Wednesday... Letter to my Cat

Dear Wednesday,

Why is it that every time I get out of my chair, you find it necessary to go frantically scrambling across the wood floor, trying to beat me to the bathroom door?

And why is it, that if you do manage wiggle in ahead of me, you find the need to sit directly in front of me watching my every move. Honestly I feel like when I'm done you're going to hold up a score card to let me know how I did.

And if I actually manage to get into the bathroom before you and close the door,  is all the desperate reaching, scratching, and clawing under the door really necessary?

I can assure you that your presence does not enhance my experience, nor is it necessary for completion of my task.

And when I do finally open the door, rushing in and tangling with my feet will only result in a lot of colorful language that should not be necessary for a simple trip to the bathroom.

And as long as we are talking bathrooms, lets discuss yours for a moment shall we? When one poops in the sand, it should be followed by using said sand to cover up said poop. Otherwise the delicate aroma floats delightfully through the entire house, wafting this way and that until there is not a corner untouched by its fragrance. See me and this can of air freshener? I am not smiling.

I would also like to discuss your fascination with drawers and cabinets. Nothing in any of these places is for you. It is not your job to spend hours stuffing your paws into every crack until you manage to open one and squeeze your body inside. For some unknown reason my family objects to eating off of dishes that have kitty litter residue tracked all over them. They are funny that way. Rest assured that anything that is actually for you will be placed in an easy to get to, convenient and logical location such as your cat dish. There is no need to go on a scavenger hunt.

My hair bands by the way do not belong to you. They are not your personal play things and you do not posses any attribute for which they can be utilized. I have now bought 3 packages and have nothing to show for it. I know you have them. Please give them back.

Also, I am not the least bit interested in hair balls. I not only do not like the look of them but I especially do not like the sound of them. If you absolutely must produce one, would it possible for you to barf them up quietly somewhere where I do not find them, cold and sticky with my foot in the middle of the night?

It would also be helpful if you would stop having disagreements with the other cats that share your space. This only results in blurry feline projectiles that amount to nothing more than hissing, growling streaks flying through the house, leaving tufts of cat fuzz in their wake. There are enough children's shoes and laundry piles for me to trip on, I don't need to add moving targets to the list of things I have to dodge.

And lastly, I understand your desire to be close to me. This is why I placed your cushion directly on my desk. But it is OVER THERE, off to the side where you can jump directly onto it without having to parade across my work area so I can get a nice close look at your ass. It is a nice ass I suppose, from a cats point of view. But Ive seen it before and do not find the need to see it again. This includes lifting your leg, placing it behind your head and preceding to clean said ass with your tongue while you are less than 2 feet from my face. I personally find it unnecessary that we share this activity.

Anything you can do that will help us come to some sort of agreement would be greatly appreciated.

Now if you can please remove your tail from under my nose and stop whacking at the cursor on my screen I can post my little request and we can get on with our day.

Thank you

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Happy New Year

Happy New Year to everyone!

I have never been so happy to see a year end as I was for 2008.

It went out with a bang too. Just ask both Sarah (totaled her car) and Emily (hit someone who turned left in front of her). Both within days of each other. It was the sour icing on a bitter cake.

But this year has started out with promise. We got good news on the medical front for Erin who was cleared of any disastrous conditions that the doctors were worried about and a glimmer of hope that the exceptionally large amount of money owed to us might be returned.

Also both Jeff and I have found old friends that we have looked for for years.

This brings a bit of promise that perhaps this year will be better than last. That past hurts can be healed, that past troubles will wash away and the horizons will dawn with the promise of good things coming.

OK.. there I go again, waxing poetic. But the truth is that this past year has taught me more than any that life is damn short, that if you don't get around to doing what you want, healing old wounds, and basically getting your head out of your proverbial ass than it will be gone faster than you can complain that things aren't going your way.

I watched the mother of Jeffrey's 7 year old best friend laid to rest in October and it was a harsh slap in the face reminding me that it doesn't a matter how much time you think you have, fate may not be in agreement.

I've fooled around way too much and haven't gotten the things done that I really have wanted. Including posting on this dang blog.

So here I am.

On January 20th we will celebrate not only my 44th birthday (EEK!) but the end of an error... George Bush will will take his leave and a new presidency will begin. See me doing the Happy Dance!

Since I can't do a post without a picture I will show off my delightful Hydrangeas from last spring.

I must add however that the FREAKIN' gardeners who don't know a FREAKIN' thing when it comes to real gardening chopped the poor things to within an inch of their life last week leaving nothing but a few sticks poking up under the kitchen window. I'm waiting for someone to come along and stick hot dogs on them and have a weenie roast. We are now doomed to a flowerless year. I have tried to keep things in perspective because they will after all grow back. But in truth it really pisses me off and every time I walk past my poor mutilated bushes I have visions of chasing the whole sorry lot of gardeners down the street with their electric hedge clippers and see how much I can trim off their twigs and berries.