Dear Tuesday

Dear Tuesday,

I am writing in regards to your delivery today, August 13, 2013.  I would like a replacement; I feel this particular model is defective.  In case you may feel that the problems have been caused by user error, let me itemize the problems I've had so you can see that they are, in fact, manufacturer issues:

1.  M2 spilled milk all over the floor first thing this morning.  Neither she nor I cried over spilled milk, but now I have stinky milk-soaked towels drying on top of my washer.

2.  M1 decided to go to the school room instead of eating breakfast this morning.  While in there, he felt the need to attempt to log into the computer multiple times, thereby locking me out.

3.  Rain.  Really?!?  It's August in Oklahoma.  It isn't supposed to rain, let alone flood, and there was certainly no need to induce a heavy downpour on the day that M2 decided to leave the van door hanging wide open after she ran outside during M1's swim team practice to get her school books and umbrella.  You're just lucky I keep towels in my van during summer as seat protectors or I'd be asking for a gift certificate for a van cleaning/detailing service.  On second thought, send one of those along with the replacement Tuesday.

4.  The dog yarked orange vomit all over the tile and pooped on the rug behind the couch.  I was not gone that long.

5.  The cat also had apparently yarked on the formal dining room carpet sometime recently, under the table.  I found it today.  Of course.  Between the dog and the cat, I need more SpotBot cleaner fluid.  Please enclose a bottle with your reply, because that stuff ain't cheap. I find that convenience often isn't.

6.  This week, the children seem to have forgotten how to load the dishwasher, wipe their placemats, pick up after themselves, flush/clean toilets, change/bring in toilet paper rolls, change/bring in paper towel rolls, and do any work in a timely fashion.  They have not forgotten how to whine, fuss, bicker, and randomly fall asleep (that last trait being one of M1's signatures).

7.  The UPS guy showed up while I was trying to clean up the urp, get the boy to finish his school work, and put away all the stuff I hauled out of the van.  Kindly inform him that while I appreciate him ringing the doorbell to inform me of a delivery, the sound does ramp up the stress level when I'm already feeling overwhelmed.

The consolation prizes that I have found in the bottom of today's apparent Pandora's Box - being able to find everything for some upcoming craft projects in a single trip to Michael's and having an appointment for myself at a very inconvenient time this evening - do not make up for the aforementioned defects that I find in this day, largely because there is not alcohol served along with any of it.  Should you be unable to send a new Tuesday, you may instead enclose a check for the price of a weekend trip to an all-inclusive resort, including airfare.

Thank you for your consideration.

Signed,

Exhausted Mom

So...

So...

... the cat, Pepe, has gone to Never-Never Land for felines.  The Great Catnip Patch in the sky.  Whatever you want to call it.  I was there with him through the entire process, and the vet agreed that it was time.  His body temperature was low, signifying that he was shutting down already, and he'd lost 2 lbs. in two months, which is a lot for any cat, let alone one that was only 6.1 lbs. to begin with.  I am at peace with this.  It was sad, but he is not hurting any more.

... Oz and I busted our humps this weekend to get stuff done around the house.  We cleaned, decluttered, and otherwise worked our tail ends off for the realtor to come today.  I am feeling a bit overwhelmed at the list she gave us of things we still need to do, but I think that is because I'm still coming down from a weekend of work.  The list really isn't all that long.  We need to patch the carpet in a couple of spots where the cats have clawed it, we need to touch up paint in a couple of rooms and fully paint a couple more (including the laundry room, which had nearly been on my to-do list already), and we need to get someone out to look at the foundation.  Other than that, we just have to finish cleaning (steam clean the carpets, scrub the light fixtures, etc.) and decluttering.  So it's not a horribly long list.  It only seems like it.  Still, I wish I felt a bigger sense of accomplishment.  Selling a house is stressful.  I want it to be done already.  I'm quite sure I'll have several good cry-fests before it's all over with.  And hopefully I'll never have to do it again. :P

... the kids are going to visit my mom this weekend.  It's been so long since they've spent the night anywhere but at home that I'm almost giddy at the prospect.  Of course, Oz and I are talking about doing the aforementioned painting this weekend, but who knows.  It's very tempting to be lazy.

... M2's school has a lice breakout.  Two kids were apparently sent home today.  The school receptionist/nurse gave everyone else the all-clear, but I'm paranoid now.  Part of me wants to keep M2 home for the rest of the week on principle.  She has Friday off anyway since that's the start of Spring Break.  This is tempting, too.

... it is March.  Since when did 2012 get permission to go by as quickly as 2011?  I don't like this.  Nobody asked me.

The End

So.  February is over.  And with the end of February, I know several folks besides myself who were hoping that this year would slow down.  I told a friend of mine the other day that by 12-21-12 (which is, ya know, the end of the world and all), the world won't necessarily end, but we'll all be so sick and tired of the drama and the never-ending crap that we'll all just throw our hands up and walk away.  Mass exodus to the closest cruise ship that goes nowhere and never comes back.

Tequila manufacturers should start preparing now.

I don't think the year listened, though, because here it is, March 1, 2012, and my house is in a state of chaos that it hasn't seen in... well, at least 10 years.  I know, because it's been almost 10 years since we moved in.

And now, here we are, starting to pack up again.

We aren't going anywhere officially yet.  But tomorrow Oz or I will be headed to the storage facility to rent a unit, and I've already begun hoarding boxes and packing superfluous junk into them.

It's not all junk.  There are baby books, photo albums, holiday decorations, and other sundry items that I would actually cry if they went missing.  But I don't need five tablecloths (thanks, Grandma) and three sets of napkins.  The kids play with Play-Doh maybe twice a year.  I don't need fall curriculum until... well, August anyway, if not necessarily fall.  These things can be packed away.

Pepe, circa 2005

The end is also nigh for the Old Man Cat.  I thought it was bad a few months ago when he was the Stinky Death Cat, but no... that wasn't bad.  Well, ok, it was bad.  But it wasn't as pathetically bad as it is now.  Two days ago, he reached a new low.  I'm pretty sure he's no longer able to use the... er... feline facilities... with any grace, and he's tracking nasty little paw prints all over my floor.  Which means that any furniture he climbs on is also contaminated.  Which means he's not grooming himself.  And he's lost all the fight that he used to have when *I* groom him.  He just lies there like a limp mat and kind of moans a little.  It's really, really sad.  He's not eating well, not grooming himself, not using the bathroom... *sigh*  It's time.  I hate making these sorts of decisions, but I called the vet's office this afternoon and made a 9 a.m. appointment for tomorrow.  I'm pretty sure I'll go in with an animal and come home without one.  He's been a sweet, sweet boy for the few years we've had him, but he looks nothing like the cat in the photo above.  Which is another clue.

My house is filthy.  Dirty cat paw prints... dust everywhere... boxes piled in front of the living room closet door... M1 can't find his swim jammers OR his kick board (his goggles got schlepped to Pennsylvania with his grandfather. I'm grateful we had a secondary pair AND they're willing to mail the original ones back to us)... M2's closet has vomited Perler beads and articles of clothing that she stashed instead of putting them away... even the tablecloth is disgusting.  I lack the energy to deal with all of it.  Right now I should either be cleaning or be in the back yard putting a fresh coat of Rustoleum on the storm shelter door, but I have absolutely zero motivation.  Did I mention the realtor is coming on Monday to give the house a once-over and decide what else needs to be done and what the place might be worth?

Spring Break and summer are looming large, too.  The swim coach is incredibly excited about summer plans, and sign-up for those events starts next week.  The violin teacher is discussing the spring concert and asked me on Tuesday to help M2 get a solo ready.  It's a brand-new song.  We shall see.  M2's birthday is later this month, too, and I only started gift shopping this week - usually I'm done by now.  I need to get invitations for the party sent to her class next Thursday since that's when Spring Break starts (they get two weeks off), and oh yeah, I can't forget that she has to build a leprechaun trap that involves a simple machine.  (For the record, a simple machine may or may not be simple to build when you're talking about something that needs to be disposable.)

The end of this week, month, year, decade cannot come fast enough.  I'm ready for it all to be over.

Pass the Cuervo.

Plodding Onward

I haven't posted anything in a few days, and unless something significant happens (it's supposed to rain tomorrow... around here, that may count as significant), I probably won't be posting much anytime soon.  It's not that I'm avoiding my blog or anything; I just don't have much worth posting.  Ever feel like your life is incredibly boring and is really only useful as a giant time-suck in which all good things go to die?

Yeah.  I'm there.

The chickens are... chickens.  The mice that have invaded their coop have multiplied to the point of truly gross.  I suspect they're gathering forces and plotting a coup and eventually I'll be raising mice instead of birds.  I'm going to get in there this weekend, muck everything out, and set some sticky traps underneath the coop itself.  I may pull the food out entirely and feed the birds in the yard every few hours.  Of course, I'll have to remember to do that, and I'll have to make sure that Speed Bump, the Dog Who Eats Everything, is in the house when I feed, but if it gets rid of the mice, then so be it.

The cats are good.  The Old Man Cat's giant cyst has pretty well disappeared.  You can see where it was, of course, but it isn't completely disgusting any more.  Now he's decided to scratch all the fur off his neck (I gave him flea meds, so I know it's not that).  He may be due for another trip back to the vet here soon.  The rest of the cats are fine.  Insane, but fine.  Demanding, but fine.

M1 is doing well.  He has problems focusing, but they're intermittent.  Wednesdays and Fridays are the worst, but I think I've worked out why: He gets worn out swimming on Tuesdays and Thursdays but refuses to go to sleep when he goes to bed, so then he's tired and sore the next day.  It makes for some long school days.  He's done really well this week, and it's been nice.

M2 is another story.  Two days after our last therapy visit, she flipped.  She'd been doing really well since mid-November, and before that her stint as a complete butt monkey hadn't lasted very long, so I had thought she was making progress and that maybe her moodiness was just a phase and it was all in my mind.  But no... she was just in between cycles.  Or something.  Ironically, since she'd been doing so well, we'd more or less decided to stop going to therapy.  Now?  Well, I can't get her to use the therapy tools she already has, so I still don't see the point in going back, but it's very tempting to make the appointment, dump her in the chair, rant to the therapist, throw my hands up and walk out.  I won't, of course, but the idea has mental merit.  She stomps, screams, refuses to budge, and is otherwise completely obtuse every time something doesn't go her way or messes with her plans.  She's never been the boss of the household in her life, and I'm not about to start letting her have that role now, but good grief.  Last night she managed to dunk her hair into her bowl of soup, so I told her she needed to wash her hair.  Forty-five minutes later, I literally dragged her to the bathroom.  After that, she refused to let me tuck her into bed (fine by me) before bursting into tears and self-imploding about how horrible a person she was.  She's decided she doesn't want Oz to take her to school any more.  She doesn't want to practice violin very often.  She doesn't want to do X, Y or Z, and all the begging and bribery in the world won't make her budge.  I have to admit I hope she can channel this persistence into adulthood, because if she could use it in a positive way it'd be incredibly effective, but for now it's a real pain in the rear.

The gerbil still lives.

The dogs are currently asleep on the floor.

Oz is at work, doing what he does and bringing home the bacon.  His birthday was this last weekend.  I got him the new Zelda game and hope to take him on a trip sometime this year.

And as for me?  Well, I'm just hanging in there, trying to keep it all together, get it all done, and occasionally learn something new in the process.  One day at a time...

The Cat Lives

So I took the cats to the vet.  As predicted, one was pronounced morbidly obese (the tech was overheard saying, "Oh, my gosh... he has such a tiny head, but he's huge!") and the other pronounced malodorous.

The vet pulled Pepe out of his carrier, gave him the once-over, and when introduced to "It" (as I shall now refer to the cyst because I really, really don't want to gross you out more than once a day), he was rather impressed.  The vet took the cat to the back, shaved the long fur around the area in question, cleaned It all out, and brought him back, itching and cranky and with a large, noticeable hole where It had once been.

So it wound up all being good news.  Not cancer, not something that's going to recur, hopefully, and nothing bacterial or fungal.  We're all back home with two weeks' worth of feline amoxicillin.  The sight of the site where It was, though, is now the thing that can induce nausea.  This is better than the smell, but does anyone know if you can use Neosporin and self-adhesive bandages on cats?  Because that'd make me even happier.

When You're Right, You're Right

Caution:  Blood, pus, and grossness ahead.  You have been warned.

So there may be a development on the Death Smell Cat (formerly known as Pepe, formerly known as The Kid) even sooner than I thought.  I knew the recurring cyst on his shoulder had burst and was smelling rather... um... unpleasant.  But last time it happened, it wasn't a big deal, really.  The smell lasted a day or two, I kept an eye on it, the cyst healed, disappeared completely, and all was well.

It's been a year or two since that time, though.  The cat has aged.  Arthritis has set in for good, which makes one of his back legs turn inward when he walks or runs, though running is rare and usually instigated by another cat lording itself over him.  He still eats well but doesn't like being touched while eating, even by the other cats.  He's quite protective of his food bowl, which is in the corner by the wall so that he is jostled as little as possible.  Grooming is something he rarely attempts any more, which means the job falls to me, which he hates... which is sad because he used to run toward the brush whenever he saw it and now he runs away.  To be fair, I'm usually carrying scissors along with the brush, and I think it's scissor-phobia more than anything else, because he's a long-haired cat, and after I brush him, he chews on his fur, which mats it up, which drives him crazy, so he chews it more, which makes the mat bigger, and then I have to cut it out.  Which he hates.

*sigh*

Anyway, when the cyst came back, I noticed it but really didn't worry too much even though it was noticeably bigger this time.  I chalked the size up to his comparative lack of bulk, since he continues to lose weight even though he really doesn't have any more to lose.  Last time I took him in, the vet wanted to do thyroid tests on him, but I declined.  Even if it is a thyroid issue, which I doubt, I'm not about to shell out boucoup bucks each month for thyroid pills for a decrepit, late-teenaged cat.  I may be a cat mama, but cats are not babies.......... she said as one of the other cats came wandering through the living room carrying a silver Christmas bracelet in its mouth.  (The bracelet-carrying cat has already been in trouble this morning for repeatedly dropping a Lemon, Lime and Bitters bottle cap into my shoe and diving in claws-first to find it again.  Two-year-olds are nothing but trouble, no matter what species.)

Gosh, I'm good at tangents today.

So the skinny, arthritic, cranky old man cat (or OMC as he occasionally gets called) had a giant cyst on his shoulder.  Not a big deal to me until it burst.  I thought I'd keep an eye on it, just like I did last time, and it would heal, like it did last time, and the smell and cyst would all go away and I wouldn't have to worry too much.

Except... not.

Stinky Death Cat is getting even stinkier.  He was sitting behind the end table at 'my' end of the couch today, and I smelled him before I saw him.  This is not good.  I had to call the vet today anyway to get another cat, Dorian Gray, in for his distemper shot, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone and see if they had time for both kitty-fluffs.  They did.

I see the vet at 2:15 this afternoon with both cats.  I know he'll say that Dorian Gray is morbidly obese (because he is... and he's the laziest sod of a cat I've ever met... kind of like those people on the "I Weigh Half a Ton" TV shows who really don't care that they're so big), but I'm not entirely sure what he'll say about Pepe.

But I'm sure he'll comment on the smell.

Wish me luck!

Fun with Felines

One of the most fun things about owning a whole herd of cats is that you never know when one of them is suddenly going to insist that it's playtime.  Typically they like to play with one another, but sometimes, just sometimes, they want to play with ME.

Usually Kuro, aka Beast-i-Cat, aka Fatty Boomsticks, is my playtime buddy.  He loves to play with things.



Lamp cords are not immune, and those I can usually ignore.

But when he gets into the art cabinet and drags out the string that you let your daughter use when she makes her beaded jewelry... and he drops it six inches from your feet and gives you the death stare... it's time to bow to the inevitable, hunt down one of the many shoelaces that migrate through the house, and play with the cat.

Him likes to play.

He *REALLY* gets into it.

Such a dignified creature he is.

Look!  Pointy ends!

He'll do this for half an hour or more, but... well, when one cat starts playing, they send out a happy vibe that causes other cats to swarm and wait for their turn.

I'm so beloved.

But only when I'm holding string.  Other than that, I'm just the feeder, litterbox changer, and warm lap.

Moody things, cats.  Demanding even. 

No wonder I love 'em!

A Cat Post

When you have six cats, it's inevitable that they eventually become furniture.  I don't mean that I sit on them, of course, but I do mean that I know - more or less - where they are at all times and expect them to be in their spots.  Furniture, after all, doesn't tend to get up and wander.

Around here, each cat has a designated place that he or she is usually found after the kids' bedtime hour, i.e. 8 p.m.  Tempest is usually snuggled into the crack between the cushions on the loveseat with Dorian Gray parked nearby.  Less often she will be found on the chair in my bedroom, possessing what she considers to be 'her' blanket.  Dorian still keeps the couch company, though.  Kuro likes my side of the bed.  He warms it.  It's one of the few jobs he's successful at.  Hermes migrates but usually prefers either the top of my closet or to be under someone's bed.  Vixen sleeps on M2's bed.  Pepe hauls his bony carcass into M2's pink princess chair or onto the arm of the couch.

The last few days, however, have seen a substantial shift in the behavior of the cats.  They've been... off.  A little whacked.  Completely flippin' crazy, if I'm honest.  Even Oz has noticed. 

My first clue was this:

This has never happened before.  Hermes snuggling with anybody??  Dorian NOT in an upright position??  Both of them in close proximity to Pepe??  

I was confused.  Then I found the rest of the cats were also in foreign positions related to their normal routine. 

Tempest wasn't on either the couch or my chair; she was guarding the hallway.

Kuro wasn't on my bed or anywhere near it... he had commandeered the dog bed that the dogs don't use.

And Vixen?  Well...

Let's just say she was none too pleased with me for finding her at all.

I'm all about variety being the spice of life, but I'd like the cats to return to predictable, please.  It's better for my sanity.  And probably this blog.

Disturbing Birthday Images

As I mentioned a few days ago, the following child has had a birthday:

She's this old now:

And, as happens with all good birthdays, there were pictures taken, some of them disturbing.

The disturbing images aren't the ones where she loves her gifts, such as the pincushion that came with her sewing kit...

... or the charm to go with the charm bracelet we got her...

... or even the weird grin she displayed when she found a shirt she loved.

No... the disturbing images came when she unwrapped a Pillow Pet.



Kuro's in luv.

Gorgeous Sunday post

Here are some random thoughts for a gorgeous, sunny Sunday.

1. A roll of toilet paper can last an entire week if Oz is gone.

2. I can sleep with four cats and not realize it until I wake up and can't move because the bedspread is pinned down in all directions.

3. One good day in the sun brings my skin color back to the same shade as my foundation. This is good.

4. Geese are remarkably talkative. We had nine of them stop by yesterday after a small thunderstorm. They said hello. And a lot of other things. Some of them are not repeatable. I know they're not repeatable because nobody says polite things while hissing and chasing someone while trying to bite their neck.

5. My husband is the self-proclaimed King of Tacky T-shirts. His latest one is this. At 6'8" tall, nobody has taken the dare yet. Except me. Repeatedly.

6. My baby girl is getting freckles. They're really, really tiny and really, really cute.

7. Watching anything with Charlie Sheen in it is hilarious now that he's such a "winning" person. I highly recommend the original "Wall Street" for a great laugh. It was a good movie, anyway.

8. The second Borders in our town has been added to the hit list. This particular Borders has been a haven for me during lots of crises. I am going to cry. And then I'm going to have to see if I can have one last coffee with friends there before it shuts.

9. Bruises and unwounded skin are fighting a battle for control of my son's limbs. It's a close contest. The best(?) part is that he has no idea how 98% of the bruises happened.

10. The kids have decided they NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED one of these. M2 has volunteered to pay for it. He even factored in shipping. Oz and I are pondering where to hang it.

Enjoy the weather!

A Boy and His... Cat?

Imagine, for a second, that you're sitting in your living room, listening to the sound of the humidifier that isn't doing squat to combat the dry air in your house, and you hear giggling from the region of your child's room, where he is supposed to be reading.

The giggles subside.

Then they start up again.

One might assume that the child was giggling at something funny in his book, right?

Yeah, not here. Here laughter of this sort is only caused by one thing... CAT.

M1 adopted one of the kittens we found under the house last year. M2 and Oz adopted a second, Vixen, but somehow Hermes knows that M1 is the one who picked him and loves him, and he will ONLY obey M1. This is a problem on occasion, because Hermes' other names are synonyms for The Devil, and when M1 isn't around... it's frustrating.

However, when said demon cat decides it wants attention, it will go down the hall to M1's room (usually when M1 is sleeping or trying to sleep) and park itself ON THE BOY. He sleeps on M1's pillow more often than not. Hermes is a very independent cat, though, and primarily keeps to himself.

Primarily.

Today, Hermes got needy. He had already lain on M1 during rest time. I retrieved the boy from underneath the cat so we could go pick up M2, and when we got back home, M1 and M2 went outside to play.

YEEEOOOOWWWWLLLL...

MAAARRROOOOOOOO....

MIP?

YEEEOOOOWWWWLLLLLLLLLLL....

This is the sight that greeted me when I went to investigate. I made the mistake of opening the door to call the boy to come put a muzzle on his cat...

... you get the idea.

They're spending their afternoon together, apparently.

It's a weird symbiotic relationship.

Kind of like the one I have with this.

The psychological implications are too disturbing. I'm going to go fix supper now. I'm sure I'll have a 5-year-old shadow right behind me going, "MOOOOOOOOM??

"MOOOOOTHEEERRRRR???

"Mom?"

Gotta love being needed.

Timing is Everything

Timing is everything: There's a cricket in my living room right now. Dorian Gray found it first. I don't think it's a particularly bright cricket. My first thought was that it was suicidal, but I think that's a projection from all the writing I've been doing, and I think it's actually got a seriously masochistic streak instead. It hopped all around the living room and is now hibernating in a rolled-up piece of paper that's been stuck behind M1's desk all week. All of Dorian's action, which is odd for him, drew the others in, and now the cats are driving me nuts trying to get at the cricket. I may or may not have chunked a blue highlighter, a red ink pen, and my iPhone cord in their general direction to try to get them to stop without actually A) getting up or B) hurting the cats. I'm running out of painless, lazy options on my end table, though, so eventually I'm going to have to move. Either that or the cricket is going to have to get an actual suicidal streak and come out to be eaten. Which means I'll clean up cricket remains in cat urp later. Decisions, decisions. Mostly I'm just happy for the laugh.

Timing is everything: I woke up with a migraine this morning. I hadn't had one in a long time, over a month, but since my migraines are related to a negative drop in air pressure and we haven't had a good low move through in over a month, and when I woke up this morning it was also drizzly and rainy... it all makes sense. The part that sucked was that I also used up my last migraine fixer last time I had a migraine and hadn't refilled the prescription. Thankfully Oz was here. He also had volunteered to take M1 to his swimming lesson today, so I went to bed, zonked out, woke up, took some Aleve, and then called the doctor and pleaded my case with the nurse. I swing by the pharmacy tomorrow. A Boy Scout I am not.

Timing is everything: I made a pumpkin streusel pie today. Pie. Singular. There were supposed to be two of them. I made two pie crusts. I made a big honkin' recipe of pumpkin pie filling. I filled two pies. I even started cooking them like the recipe said - 15 minutes at 450 - and then took them out to cover the crusts with foil. I went to put the first one back in, and in total slow motion horror movie close-up shot, it tilted. The silicone potholders slipped. And 2/3 of the pie wound up splattered over the inside of the oven door. I stopped. I stared. And I chunked the rest of the pie in the trash can. It's just pie, right? Then I had to work out a way to clean most of the mess off the door so I could continue cooking the other pie. For the record, LOTS and LOTS of paper towels will keep you from burning yourself and will get most of the stuff cleaned up, except for the brownish residue you find later, cooked to the inside of the door like a bad spray tan. The other pie came out beautifully. I want to see the glass half full here.

Timing is everything: I might have committed murder today. It wasn't entirely my fault. The thing DID play dead for two days. It was the last fish in M1's tank, and when a fish spends one day stuck to the back of the filter and one day lying motionless and visible on the bottom of the tank, I tend to think it's dead. It is a fish, after all, and I'm not prone to giving a fish the ol' poke-'n'-prod to make sure it is actually dead and cold and infused with rigor mortis. Since it was the last fish, I told M1 that I would empty out the tank for him while he was at his swimming lesson. I got the siphon. I got the bucket. I started draining the water. I got the tank 3/4 empty when I realized that I hadn't yet removed the fish and that it would be easier to remove if I siphoned it up as opposed to trying to grab it with my bare hands, something my son will happily do right before feeding it to bugs or dissecting it but something I don't find nearly as fun. I aimed the siphon at the fish and watched it schloop up the siphon. Halfway. Then, at the last possible second (I'm trying to work up drama here), the fish jerked around and flew back out the bottom of the siphon and parked itself in the only remaining corner with more than an inch of water. I had to pause for thought before realizing that even if I filled the tank back up and put in a new filter and got the whole thing going again, the whole water cycle was going to be completely out of whack and it was going to actually die anyway, and M1 wasn't home, and nobody would ever know, and HEY! We have chickens!

They appreciated the odd little treat.

If the stupid fish hadn't waited till the very last second, it would still be alive.

Timing is, indeed, everything.

Sunday Randomness

1. Scroll all the way down to the bottom of the page. Check out the blue box. I've set up a Twitter account for this blog. If you tweet, you can find me at @oursunnyview. It contains a lot of the randomness that doesn't make it on here. Right now I have two followers. One of them is Bill Engvall. I feel special.

2. Oz is home, but he's working again. He's also going to be out of town all week. Weekend? What weekend?

3. The kids and I are going to go to a Halloween party this afternoon. I look forward to taking pictures.

4. M1 is no longer vegetarian. I know he did this on purpose because I now have more cans of beans in my pantry than any living person should ever have. Thankfully, those keep. I've also made him swear to finish up all vegetarian soups (and the tofu) that I had already bought and to give me at least a week's notice if he ever decides to become vegetarian again.

5. We had biscuits and sausage gravy for breakfast.

6. The horse lady has put a scarecrow in my pasture. It's bright orange and is stuck in a matching bright orange traffic cone to stand up. Every time I look out there, it startles me.

7. The light in my bedroom kept flickering after I went to bed last night. This wouldn't be an issue except that the light was turned off at the switch. After I went to sleep in the living room, it apparently stopped. No, THAT doesn't make me paranoid at all.

8. We're now getting 5-6 eggs per day out of our chicky-girls. I know they're taunting me, because when the weather finally takes a turn for the cold, they'll (more or less) quit laying.

9. I discovered the other day that if I scratch my 25-pound black cat in just the right spot, he involuntary starts gnawing on things. Like me. Or whatever is in front of his mouth. It's hilarious, and it tickles.

10. I watched "Full Metal Jacket" and "When Harry Met Sally" last night. I'd never seen either of those movies. I thought they were both awesome, and now I understand why they hired Adam Baldwin to be John Casey on "Chuck." Last week I watched the original "Ocean's 11" with the Rat Pack. Now I feel the need to see "Breakfast at Tiffany's," "Casablanca," "2001: A Space Odyssey," and "Gone With the Wind." I'm sure that list will grow, and I'm happy to take suggestions of good movies.

Have a happy Sunday, everyone!

Night of the Cat

One should never, ever let me become bored on a Friday night. Especially when there's a camera available.

OK, so there wasn't originally a camera available, but gravity had taken hold, which cause me to slither off the couch and loll on the floor like a drunken monkey (but I wasn't even drinking) and start to giggle at cats, and then I ordered Oz to retrieve the camera from the utility room where it was resting, and when I'm like that, it's hard to deny me. It's hard to deny insanity its right to take over the world, one photograph at a time.

It was one of those nights. The type of night where it looks like you're trying to fist-bump the dog except he's not cooperating and is giving you the tongue, which is the dog equivalent of the finger. I can hear Oz now: "Dude, not cool! Don't leave me hangin'!"

Except that what Oz was actually saying was, "Don't lick me, you filthy creature!"

I like my version better.

It was one of those nights where you take a picture holding the camera upside down while you're underneath the table where the cat is sitting and it turns out better than anything you could have possibly taken while sitting upright and TRYING to take a good picture.

Then, of course, I had to crank up the ISO to make the pictures nice and grainy, but it helped me capture THIS gem. Even the cat is having a total WTF moment, trying to figure out what on earth has possessed the MomCat. It didn't help that I was giggling at her flattened fur lying against the glass on the coffee table and tapping the glass to see what kind of reaction I'd get. I'm sure that didn't bug her AT ALL.

I'm kind of annoying like that. Are we worried about my mental status yet? You should be. I am.

Tempest did oblige me by meerkatting on her hind legs so I could give her a scratch. She'd sell her soul for a good ear-scratchin'. Much like I'd sell mine for beef stroganoff and Halloween decorations.

It's all what you're into, I guess.

Dorian Gray is just wondering what the bejeezus is going on here. He's easily confused. It comes with lacking a few brain cells. Love him, but he hit the 'Nip pretty hard in his youth, and it shows.

Vixen saw the camera and tried to do her best Abercrombie & Fitch modeling pose. She's the epitome of apathy for the sake of fashion. The only thing keeping her off the feline runway is her tail. Her tail is its own entity and sometimes reaches around and whaps her in the nose, just for the sake of reminding her it's there. Then she feels the need to bite it, which hurts, so then she licks it, and then she dashes off across the house with her little genie kitty feet. She's such a priss. I'd say she also lacks brain cells, except that she's a very bright cat. She's just blond underneath all that fur. As a blond myself, I can say that. She and I get along nicely. It's why I can make fun of her Entity Tail.

Kuro? Well, Kuro was in the same mood *I* was, I think. I can hear him wondering, "Dude. My brain's messed up. I think I need to mess with someone."

He also likes the 'Nip. Dorian introduced him to it. He's such a bad influence.

One... two...

NOM HIS HEAD OFF!!!!

And Pepe watches it all, with the most unconcerned look on his face, one that only an 18-year-old cat with a scarred ear can muster. He just wants to know what's the point of it all.

There is no point, my good kittyboy... no point at all.

Me. After today.

Whaddaya mean, this isn't me?

Oh. 

Well. 

I echo the sentiment.

When Cats Do Chores

Laundry.  I'm very glad the kids are old enough to fold their own and put it away.  I'm very glad when it's done.  And I'm very glad I have help.  Comedic relief is always welcome.

You make bed??

Hermes particularly loves it when I strip and remake the beds.  Dorian does, too, but since Hermes came along, Dorian has ceded the position of Bed Sitter.

Oh hai!

Hermes will fly down the hall and skid onto the bare mattress and perch there impatiently.  When I toss the fitted sheet over him, he squats down and waits...

BedCat

while I tuck him in.  He loves being a very wiggly, attack-happy cat lump.  He holds very still and sits very quietly while I add the flat sheet, the comforter, pillows, extra blanket, and stuffed animals over him, though if my hands get near him, he'll try to attack them through the layers.  Once I'm done and things get quiet, he'll wriggle out of his hidey-hole, dash down the hall to the next room, and do it again.

LAUNDRY CAT

When he came to the next room on Monday, however, he ran into... Laundry Cat.  Laundry Cat's real name is Vixen, aka Vixyboo if you ask the children, but on Mondays and Fridays, she transforms into Laundry Cat.

It's a superhero thing.

Laundry Cat is highly possessive of her Laundry.  She loves laundry.  I have absolutely no idea where it comes from, but the second she hears the rustle of cotton against cotton, she appears from nowhere, usually blinking sleep from her eyes.

Hey!  This is MY turf!

She usually doesn't like being tucked in like Hermes and Dorian do; rather, she hops down and tries to steal the sheets away from me as I toss them over the bed.  "MY sheet!" she says with her claws. "Mine!  Mine mine mine!"

Once I wrangle the sheets away from her, tuck Hermes into all the beds, and repeat the process a third time, I pile the rest of the laundry on my bed to be sorted, and she tags along.

Empty hamper?  Don't mind if I do!

She hops into the hamper and waits.


Well?!?  Where's it at??

Heaven forbid I take too long sorting.  And if she thinks something is being tossed into the wrong pile (or I just happen to toss something over her head), she'll snag it and run off with it or sit on it, depending on her ever-changing mood.  Girls are hormonal that way.

Her favorite part, though, comes when I get done sorting.

You rang??

FREE RIDE!!!  She sits happily while I tuck the laundry all around her.  I don't often leave her head sticking out, but I was feeling generous.  Usually I just dump it all on top of her.  I'm hormonal, too.  And then she gets a ride to the laundry room.  The kids love to look through the sides of the hamper to see who can find Laundry Cat first.

Yes... she IS asleep.

She's quite content in her little laundry cave, and she doesn't like the laundry to be taken away.  The kids love to put the first few layers of laundry into the washer, but once they start to unearth Laundry Cat, the job comes back to me because there's a great chance of getting clawed in the process.  They giggle hysterically as I take one piece of laundry at a time away from Laundry Cat, only to have half of them swiped out of midair by a kitty paw that then tucks the laundry safely away under the Belly of the Beast until I try again. 

Once I have all the laundry out of the hamper and ensconced safely in the washer, Laundry Cat disappears until it's time to fold and put it all away... and then she does it all again!

I may not necessarily enjoy doing laundry, but between kids and cats, there's an element of fun in it after all. Mary Poppins may have known a thing or two about cats.

Happy Labor Day Weekend!

Just for fun, here are 10 random things about me to keep you going through this long weekend. Hope everyone stays safe and has a great one!

1. I do not like chocolate milk. I do not like it, Sam I Am. I really don't like chocolate ice cream, either, with the exception of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food which isn't really chocolate ice cream so much as it is a melted 3 Musketeers bar with chunky fish-shaped chocolate bits in it. I realize this makes me weird. Have you read this blog? It shouldn't be a surprise.

2. I would love to have a Savannah cat. I think they're gorgeous. Plus, you can teach them to play fetch and walk on a leash. I'd love to take one to a park just to taunt the dogs. I'm ornery like that.

3. I have decided what I want my third tattoo to be. The problem is it'll take up most of my back, and I haven't quite convinced myself I'm ready to take the ink that far yet. I also have to save the cash and convince Oz it's a good idea. I think if I can talk Oz into getting his first tattoo at the same time, he might go a little easier on me. Ha. Hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I slay myself.

4. I love hot showers and baths. Not just tepid or slightly-warm-to-almost-maybe-hot but turn-your-skin-red, close-to-scalding hot. The kind of hot where you pour a bath and have to wait for it to cool down a bit so you don't actually poach yourself. When the kids were tiny, I had the water heater thermostat set so that it couldn't get very hot. Now that they are older and know to test the water, I'm slowly cranking it up. Oz likes his water barely warm, and if he climbs into the shower after I've been in there, he wonders how I have skin LEFT for tattoos.

5. I love jigsaw puzzles. I love cats. The two do not mix, but I try anyway. I'm a sucker for the unmanageable.

6. I don't really like homemade sandwiches. I have no idea why. It's not like I ate a ton of them as a child. I just don't like them. Unless there are potato chips on it. A bologna sandwich with potato chips is next to godliness.

7. I cannot watch horror movies. The last one I saw was "Scream 2." I'd say the last one was "The Blair Witch Project," but honestly that wasn't a horror movie. I'm still not sure what it was other than completely boring and not scary at all. Anyway, after that my anxiety flared up, and I haven't been able to watch a horror movie since. That being said, I am fascinated with the paranormal and watch "Ghost Hunters" religiously. I also am quite happy to watch documentaries on Jack the Ripper and other serial killers. I fear the fake and relish the real. Go figure.

8. I don't like carrying a purse. Coach, Prada, and other famous brands hold no fascination for me. I've carried one off and on throughout my teen and adult life, but I always wind up back where I started which is with my wallet in my back pocket, my phone in my front pocket, and my keys attached to my belt loop (or backpack, back in the day). I have a small denim purse that I'm using right now, and I'm keeping it pared down to the bare essentials - the three items already mentioned, M1's inhaler, and a pair of sunglasses. The End. Amen.

9. Every time I watch Star Wars and hear, "May the Force be with you," I automatically think, "And also with you." My liturgical church background runs deep.

10. I am very responsive to smells. I could write a whole blog post on just this topic and probably will one day, but it's why I can go into Yankee Candle and spend oodles of dough. The smells are just heavenly. I think my children have inherited this love. Given my love for baking, it's a good thing.

New Perspective

A while back, my son bought a digital camera with some money he'd received as gifts from relatives. He's been highly pleased with it and loves to take photos. Lately he's also learned to shoot videos and is even more excited.

He's taken literally hundreds of photos since he got the camera. Some - OK, many - of them are blurry, out of focus, etc., just like any other beginner photographer. Some of them are average. And a few of them I just love.

His favorite subject is cats. Not really a difficult subject to shoot considering that we have six of them. This one is his cat Hermes.


Clearly he loves getting down on the perspective of the animals. Many of his photos are shot from the floor. A few were shot while standing on his bed. I had to giggle when I realized that, but he's at least mastering two vital aspects of photography that I'm still trying to figure out!

This is a shot of one of his best friends. Seven-year-old boys are so vibrant!

My last favorite shot is one of girl cats, Tempest. I love how her face is shaped. He captured her very well and managed to get a well-lit photo! That's also a tough one!

Finally, I offer a montage of videos he took of himself over a few weeks. He is a hoot, and Oz and I laugh riotously whenever we see these. I'm sure in 10 years he'll kill me for him, but hopefully the little bit at the end is enough to remind him that he really loves me. He is an awesome kid, and I'm so glad to have him, and I can't wait till he discovers more about photography and cameras in general! Experimenters unite!