I've been MIA

I haven't even thought about, much less looked at, my blog in over a week. I've been just a wee bit busy. And when the busy stopped, the headache began.

First, my mom and her two cats, Abby and Cuddles, arrived last Friday. This is her first visit since last October and she's long overdue. She usually makes her first trip of the year during our spring break, but couldn't due to work obligations.

Abby, listening to the meadowlarks.

The weekend was a whirlwind of activity and people. My brother lives just down the street from me. His girlfriend and three of her kids came down for the weekend. Since we're an easy walk down the street, the kids, all five of them, made numerous trips back and forth. Meals for the crowd are always at my house and are a production! Saturday night we did homemade pizza and salads, Sunday brunch was homemade waffles, bacon, and tons of fruit. And Sunday dinner was tater tot hotdish and salads. Sit down meals for 13 are so much fun, and so exhausting!

Monday, grandma and three of the kids left for their vacation trip. Disneyland!! She's a brave woman! LOL

And they're off!

I celebrated Monday by taking a much-needed three hour nap. 

By Wednesday, I had my feet back under me. My neighbor talked me into going to a Zumba class with her. I told her I'd be there with bells on, which was a lie because I don't have bells. But now I do. Not only did I survive the 60 minute work-out, I had so much fun, I'm planning on making it a regular thing. 

My Zumba bells!!

The rest of the week hasn't been so great. Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday had me fighting headaches. Could be hormones, could be the wildly blooming Russian olive trees, could be the relentless wind that insists on blowing. I just know I'm tired of them. And I'm tired of popping pills to try to get the booming to stop. 

I'm planning on enjoying the weekend before the rush of people returns on Monday. It's time to garden and work on the closet projects. And do the laundry. Always the laundry. 

Today, I ponder...

I found myself stumbling down the steps this morning at the ungodly hour of 3:52 am. This I'm not pondering. It was at the request of my bladder, who has taken on it's own existence without me. It calls, I answer.

Anyway, as I hit the bottom of the steps and turn, I realize the porch light is on. It's a motion light and shouldn't be on. Unless there's a cat waiting patiently to come in. I looked out, expecting to see Smalls or Kaos tapping a paw, waiting for someone to let their kingliness in. Instead, I was met with the sloppy sideways grin of Taz. And I pondered why in the world my dog was outside at 3:52 am. Unattended. He did not have an answer for me, despite being asked three time on his way to his room. I was too tired to ask again, and went back to bed.

Fast-forward to roughly 5:45 am, and hubby's alarm going off. My first lucid though was, "Why in the hell is it so damn cold in here?" I had curled as tightly as possible into the available blankets. Then I realized I was breathing cat hair. At some point, I had even pulled their blanket over myself. Yuck. Now I realize the window is open. Why is the window opened. Clearly, I didn't open it. Nor did I notice at 3:52 am that it was open. Had I had a hot flash that didn't wake me up? I guess it could happen. Had I turned the bedroom into an inferno that woke hubby up? Very well possible, according to him. At any rate, I was shivering cold. And when I get cold, I have to pee. So much for sleeping.

Then, while standing on the porch waiting for the dog to pee, I was gazing out over the gardens. And the weeds. And mentally giving myself a tongue-lashing for not having them all clean and pretty yet. Then I noticed it. Catnip. Every damn where. WHY did I think it would be a good idea to plant that crap. Yes, the cats enjoy it immensely. But it's a friggin weed. And by the looks of it, it has choked out one of red hot poker plants. That shit has got to go.

But I also noticed something good when I was outside. My bugleweed is looking wonderful, and is spreading nicely. It even has some early blooms on it. Ahhh, lovely enough to forget about the catnip. For now.

The week in review.

This is the highlight of the week. Before you sits over $100 worth of meds. For the dogs. Or more precisely, two of the dogs. Somehow, in typical mysterious fashion for our house, there is sickness afoot. Without being exposed to any other dogs, much less sick dogs, we have kennel cough germs tucking into the lungs of all the beasts, one by one. 

The dosage instructions are involved enough, I need a chart to keep it straight and make sure we don't miss any doses. Each course is 10 days. If all of the dogs end up getting this, I will be passing out pills for at least a month. I better stock up on hot dogs and lunch meat. They are so talented, they can separate pills out of a wad of bread and spit them right back out on the floor. Appetizing, to say the least. 

I've decided this is no different that having a house full of young children who bring home every bug known to momkind. I'm just really glad it's not chickenpox, stomach flu, or explosive diarrhea. Those were NOT the days.

And as luck would have it, the oldest son dropped off his dog on Thursday in order for me to take him to the vet for his annual visit. For some reason, his 12-hour work days prohibit him from having the time to take care of it himself. And because of those 12-hour days, the dog is still here because he hasn't had time to come fetch him. I've tried to keep him separate from the other dogs, but you know how that goes. They looked at each other, so that's about all it's going to take. If Junior starts coughing, I'm pretty sure I'll have him for the full 10 days as the boy won't remember to divvy out meds twice a day. I'm not entirely convinced he remembers to do his laundry or buy groceries. Unless it's beer.  Being the mom never ends, even after they move out. 

And from behind closed doors comes the sound of more hacking and coughing. From dog #3. 

Fucking fantastic. The vet is now on speed dial. 

Crazy or the Cat?

It is 4:20. AM. 0420. As in it is before the butt crack of dawn. I am up. Coffee is before me. I've even loaded the dishwasher. Two of the dogs have been out to potty, but they went back to bed.

I hate days like this. I wake up for whatever reason and absolutely can't go back to sleep. Don't get me wrong, I try. But then I start to toss and turn, and eventually, my bladder wakes up. Or a cat realizes I'm awake. Such was the case today.

Smalls has taken to sleeping all night with us again. Always on my side of the bed, and always as close as physically possible to my body. Sometimes, he crawls up on top of me. I swear it feels like a 25 lb sack of flour on me.

So mid-turn, he plops himself in my rib cage and stretches full out. Of course, I have to give him a few scratches. What kind of cat mom would I be if I didn't? That inspires him to stretch even further and roll over to expose his belly. He honestly thinks he's part dog and loves to have his belly scratched. Yes, I obliged. He stretches out his paws as far as possible, throws his head back in delirious joy, and the purring begins. When he starts kneading thin air, I know I've found today's sweet spot.

We remain like this for a good 30 minutes. The crazy lady awake and the cat purring happily while I tickle his tummy. And at roughly 3:45, it struck me. Does the lady have to be crazy before loving cats, or does the cat make the lady crazy? Since I've had a love affair with cats since I was old enough to pull their tails and pick them up by their whiskers, I'm guessing my crazy came first. And all the cats in my life have come along for what they knew would be a one-of-a-kind ride. Complete with belly rubs.

Do padded rooms have internet access?

It's been a long, cold week. Really cold. Cold as in too cold to put the dogs outside in the kennel. Even the long-haired bushy ones, because I'm a sap like that. So cold the cats don't want to go outside either. For that matter, if it wasn't for having to earn a living, we humans wouldn't leave the house either.

We've now reached the point where life is exceeding the limitations of my medication. Actually, we may have reached that back about Wednesday.

See, we have no use for cute little lap dogs. Oh no. The smallest dog in the house is my daughter's pit puppy who is probably about 30#. They just get bigger from there. A shepherd mix. A boxer. An Australian shepherd/heeler mix. And, last but not least, the 130# monstrosity that is our American bulldog.

And there's where my insanity begins. A medium size house, five people, five dogs, four cats, and a thermometer that is stuck between -5° and 15°.

Dogs are fickle creatures. They have no respect for personal property. It is all theirs. Shoes? Theirs. Couches? Theirs. Beds? Theirs. It matters not that furniture and beds are explicitly OFF LIMITS. If all dog pillows are in use, the first available blanket is theirs. Even if it's present location is on a bed or couch. They feel no guilt about moving it to the floor after they get yelled at for being on the furniture.

Garbage? Theirs. Especially if the can is overflowing because some teenager with an attitude refuses to take it out. Or forgets. Cats? Theirs. Personal mobile play toys to be chased throughout the house. Bonus points if they can get them to jump on top of the aquarium.

The basement? Theirs. As in their own personal bathroom, because my stupid humanness prevents me from understanding that it's too damn cold to do your business outside. We chat about this regularly. OK, not true. I yell and scream, they bat their puppy dog eyes and deny all knowledge. The porch? Theirs. Because if they actually go out to do their business, that's about as far as they go. Maybe it's colder out in the snow-covered grass, I don't know.

They are also remarkably like toddlers, in that the longer they are forced to remain inside, the less respect they have for appropriate inside behavior. The living room and the kitchen have become their personal Brickyard. Of course, the winner thinks there should be a trophy. Yesterday, it was the loaf of bread left precariously close to the edge of the counter. This morning, it was the tea bags dangling out of the much-too-full trashcan. Cross reference to lazy teenager.

And they are all losing the ability to communicate using inside voices. The bulldog and boxer turn into raging, slobber throwing creatures at any sound resembling a knock on the door or a ringing doorbell. Most frequently, those sounds emanate from the TV. It doesn't matter. The Aussie has turned into the gossip monger. If he thinks someone needs to be fed/needs to go outside/needs attention, he's at my elbow chattering. If chatter and nose pushing don't work, he starts yipping at me. If yipping doesn't work, he barks. At which point the cats and I have to peel ourselves off the ceiling.

This cold weather is to continue for days. DAYS, I say.

And that's why I desperately need to know if padded rooms have internet access. I should probably make a reservation. I suspect there's been a run on padded room lately.

You know it's time when...

I may have mentioned some time ago that our cat had kittens. In fact, she had kittens, five of them, in August. August 5th, to be exact. We still have the kittens. Yes, I've procrastinated on finding new homes for them. I knew I'd keep two of them, but which two? How is a person to choose when they're all so damn cute??

Mike has been bugging me since they were eight weeks old, "Are you going to get rid of these guys?" At 12 weeks old, "I'm going to have the kids load them up and take them to Wal-Mart if you don't get rid of them." At four months old, "I'm going to turn them loose outside if you don't get rid of them." And now, five months old, "Are you EVER going to get rid of all these cats??"

Now, you see, they've reached the point their personalities are really becoming evident. We have the cuddler, the trouble-makers, the independent-yet-lovey one, and the sweet little girl. I love all of them and tear up thinking about giving any one of them away.

But yesterday was a pivotal moment in the care and consideration of the cats.

I needed litter and food, two items that I must buy with GREAT regularity. Yesterday, I needed to restock both at the same time.

I bought 20 lbs of food, which will last a bit more than a week. And I bought 56 lbs of litter.

56 freakin' pounds

I seem to have a theme for the week

This must be cat week here at Blondmondays. A friend found this video today and I laughed til I cried. This is Roach in a different fur coat:

And I thought my cats were cool...

Years ago, I had a cat who willingly rode in the car to get ice cream from the Dairy Queen. And I thought she was all that because of it. As it turns out, that was kids stuff compared to this cool cat...

There's no one here for you to look sexy for.

Love is in the air. The moon and stars are in proper alignment. It's not too hot; it's not too cold.

She sashays through the room, hips swinging seductively, her eyes clearly displaying her best come-hither look. Invitingly, she leans against you, hoping beyond hope for just one caress, one long lazy stroke intended to invoke intimacy. When she speaks, the tone is unquestionably low and sexy, designed to ignite the fires of passion.

She is wanton. She is welcoming. She is every man's dream.

She is not me. She is my cat, and she is undeniably in heat. And she is ceremoniously driving everyone in the house crazy! The title of my post is a statement made by Mike as she writhed and showed off while stretching on a kitchen chair the other morning, trying to attract attention. I couldn't help but laugh.

I innocently suggested letting her "meet" my brother's cat, a handsome white, gray, and orange specimen of a man-cat. Just think of the beautiful babies they'd make together. You see, Roach (yes, that is really her name) is a gorgeous torty. Can't you just see the adorable offspring they could create?

But Mike says no. Hell no. We absolutely, positively DO NOT need anymore cats roaming the premises, beautiful or otherwise.

Sigh.

Rather than design a nursery, I called the vet. Roach will be going in June 2 to be spayed. I'm afraid to admit, if she went through another heat cycle, she'd probably end up dead at the hands of someone in this house. Very likely me.

Brain Purge

Nearly a month since my last entry...good grief. I've thought about it, even logged in a few times with many things to write about, but always managed to get sidetracked with something else seemingly more important.

Thinking really hard on what all those blog-worthy events were...

I did have a 'I know I'm your Mom, and I know you're 16, and I know you have a girlfriend, but I don't need to see this' moment. I came in after work just in time to see said girlfriend jump up on Devan and wrap her arms and legs around him requiring him to grab hold via a certain backside body part to prevent her from falling. What commenced was the shortest session of sizzled lip-lock that 16-yr olds can muster when they know they've been busted. And yeah, it caused a hitch in my step and the door slammed just a bit harder than intended. And yeah, it took them just a bit to collect themselves and walk out into the kitchen.

We also played host to a rabbit for an evening. The dog was banished to the kennel, but the cats were delighted to have company. I don't think the rabbit shared their enthusiasm. The girlfriend came over to borrow a computer to write a presentation for English class. The presentation was how to show a rabbit in 4-H. Because she wanted to practice the presentation, the rabbit had to come along. And Devan had the pleasure of cleaning up the piddle piles and stray rabbit turds throughout the evening. Fun times.

I've probably never admitted publicly or otherwise that I'm a chapstick whore. I have it in my purse, in my coat pocket, in my desk at work, on my nightstand, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, in my vehicle, and anywhere else it might be necessary. I'm also known to keep monthly supplies in many of the same areas. Well, except for the kitchen. And what's the connection? Well, I'll tell you. A Tampax Compak Pearl that has come out of its wrapper in your pocket feels remarkably like a tube of chapstick when you're searching by feel. Thankfully I was alone when I whipped it out of my pocket. Just a note, I've never found a chapstick that has a string attached. And yeah, I did eventually clean out my coat pocket to stash the monthlies in a more suitable purse pocket.

I now have less than a month to prepare for my Mom's first visit of the year. I desperately need to clean up the office/guest room or Mike is going to do it for me. I was sorting files, papers, computer crap, etc and didn't finish the job. There is crap everywhere! And the cats, in their quest to always assist me in whatever I'm doing, have disrupted the carefully categorized piles, requiring me to start sorting anew. I promised to do it this weekend. And don't you know the weather is cooperating nicely? It's supposed to rain all weekend ensuring that I'll spend little time outside planting flowers. So thoughtful of Mother Nature to help me out. I also promised to tackle the computer corner in the kitchen. It's scary to look at. Too scary to even talk about.

Amazing video

I just found this on another blog I read. There just aren't words...



Is that amazing, or what?

Have I mentioned my pets annoy me?

The other day, I posted about them. As it turns out, Sunday mornings isn't the only time they irritate me. The dog is just being an ass and the kitten eggs him on. He woke me up from a nap by putting his head as close to mine as he could without actually touching me, and barking. He's got a big bark. I nearly jumped out of my skin. The kitten came careening out of the kitchen, did a NASCAR lap around the living room, coming to a stop on the back of the couch above me. Of course the dog is obligated to give chase...by going over me. Then he spilled my soda. Which puddled under my brand new book. Then he drank some. Eau de dog breath with a hint of Mt. Dew. Like he doesn't have enough energy already.

And just about then, Mike called. And coined a new phrase. He told me to call him back when I wasn't so grumpy because he didn't like calling and getting the "back side of bitch" attitude that I was sharing. To protect myself and others, I remained silent.

The Trouble Twins

No, not the kids. The animals. Specifically the dog, a 120ish pound American Bulldog just over a year old, and a cute as a bug 6-month old torty kitten. Both have the reputation of being hell on wheels when they wake up in the morning. All that stored up energy just waiting to explode. Just like little kids, when they sleep they store energy at exponential rates and can't wait to turn it loose when their eyes open.

We (the animals and I) had the house to ourselves last night. Mike is still in Alabama, Devan stayed at his grandparents, and Dean went to a friend's house. Oh the blessed quiet; well, except for Herc (the dog) and Roach (the kitten). If they're awake, they're usually in trouble.

We decided as a group to head to bed early, watch a bit of TV and catch up on our magazine reading. That also means the other two cats will join the party in short order. Six, who must always have her pudgy self on top of me at all times, and Leroy, who can ignore absolutely everything around him. An admirable male trait, to be sure.

It was lights out shortly after 11 and everyone fell fast asleep. At 1:30, Herc wanted out, despite the fact he went out at 11. At 3:45, Herc wanted out, despite the fact he'd been out at 11 and 1:30. I try not to complain, as the alternative is far less amusing.

Sundays are for sleeping in; as much as I can convince my internal clock to do so. If I make it to 8, I've done really well. At 7:19 my phone buzzed with a text message. 7:19. AM. On a Sunday morning. It's Mike: "What ya doin up yet?" It took me three tries to write back that I was trying to sleep. Ten minutes later, the phone buzzed again. "Well kick your boyfriend out and get up call me when u are up 4 good." The boyfriend, Leroy, chirped to show his unamusement. Six started purring in my ear. The dog stopped snoring and stretched enough to move the foot stool and chair. And Roach decided it was play time. Before long, she had everyone awake. The dog started whining to go out; Six started plowing circles around my head; and Leroy stretched out across my feet.

For 45 minutes, Herc and Roach played and ran circles through the house. Herc got into the laundry and I guess he shared the fun with Roach. He came through the kitchen gnawing on a pair of Devan's shorts and Roach was right behind him proudly carrying one of my fuzzy socks.

Now, everyone except me is enjoying their morning nap. I'm too wide awake to even think about it. Damn animals. I really love my pets...except for Sunday mornings.

Another goodbye to a cherished pet

Even the sky cried.
January 31, 2005

Long lazy muscle stretches
Every time you rise.
That excited meow,
Each and every time, home we'd arrive.

Sharing treats,
even though they weren't good for you.
Your cuddles so wonderful,
whether we were sick, or just blue.

On the corner of my desk
you sat during coffee and email.
Reaching out, paw to cheek,
just to be sure I wouldn't ignore you.

I miss you so much,
the boys, even worse.
I hope you're ok
and gone is the hurt.
We laid you to rest
beneath a favored tree.
Your name etched forever
in the trunk, for all to see.

Rest well, be happy,
lay about in the sun.
Take care of God's house,
keep those mice on the run.

My final farewell
as tears fall from my eyes.
I'll always remember you -
For when you left us,
even the sky cried.

Some of my favorite posts

I'm pulling some of my favorite posts from my old journal. Call it historical data...whatever. They are things I want to remember...

From January 7, 2007



My Best Girl, Rest in Peace, Baby



Words won't come yet,
It's too soon, I suppose.


Nearly 15 years ago I brought you home,
Just a wee little ball of black fuzz.
You were cute beyond words.


Over the years,
We tried your patience so many times.
Kittens that grew to cats;
Puppies that grew to dogs;
Babies that grew to noisy and boisterous young boys.
And yet...you reigned supreme.


Even when you started growing old,
Even when illness started it's slow march,
You remained a force to be reckoned with.


I knew,
deep down in my heart,
This was to be your last winter.
I could tell you were tired,
that age was wearing you down.
And yet, you kept holding on.


Today, in the quiet of early morning,
You called out to me one last time.
One last look,
One last meow.
As I held you and rocked in your chair,
You slipped quietly away.


I'll miss you Missy Kitty.