How do you frisk a cat?

Carefully.

My cat Mister is such a treasure.  Right up front I want everyone to know that. He's not the brightest. But he loves me.  And has been finding extra special ways to prove it.

We have rabbits in the hood.  They come from a street over.  They're just sharing their little hairry love.  Mister avoids them.  Can't figure them out. I figured they were safe from them.  I mean - he won't mess with the 2 lb. Chihuahua from next door, so I guess something "mid-size" would more fit his purpose.

At first the neighbors thought they were cute.  But after folks started finding little pot holes in their yard some weren't so sure anymore.  I am not one of them.  I think they're cute.  And I like watching them playing in the front yard while carefully filling in their freshly dug holes.I try to sneak up on them but I'm kind of hard to miss, if you know what I mean.

Last weekend was wonderful & spirit filled.  We went to the funeral of a friend's dear husband (mentioned in an earlier post).  Beautiful music.  Great talks & rememberances.  Lots of laughs.  It was a true celebration of his life.

Then we went to the Temple that evening with kids and a Gdaughter. Afterwards we helped close down a Spring Creek BBQ.  Now - that's a rowdy crowd I am proud to hang with! We had good food, better company and just have the best ol' time!

But then?  A surprise was waiting for us when we pulled into our driveway late Saturday night.

We pulled into the driveway and saw that there were no bunnies visiting our front yard.  Mister was racing across the yard and I asked him where were the bunnies?  Then we got to the porch and discovered that he had killed a baby bunny and brought to us as a tribute.  He was so proud.  Wanted me to see it first thing.  Showing off his hunting skills.  Whatever.  Jim had to take care of it for me.  I talked to Mister and told him no more baby bunnies.

But I guess he thought he had a good thing going.

Wednesday night Jim was picking up a piece of trash, walked to the trash can muttering to himself (which considering our household is not all that unusual), and tossed something in.  But then he covered it up with more trash.  Now I was a little curious. He told me that I had better start frisking Mister whenever he came into the house. Why would I need to do that?  Because he'd brought in a present for us (not the literal us - he meant the "me" us.) and dropped it on the floor in the den.  This baby was black so it would have been hard to see it when Mister had it in his mouth.

Then to add insult to injury - he jumped up on the arm of my recliner, all proud of himself knowing that he had brought the best present EVER to the mom he adored.  But only after he'd rolled all over it to mark his territory and make it his own.

Oh. My. Heck.  You've not lived till you've had a 30 lb. furry paper weight that smells of rancid dead bunny rabbit and he's proudly rubbing all over you and the arm of the chair.

What a monster I've raised.  Tonight - a bit of a bath for the cat.  This should be fun.

I've got bandaids, 1st aid cream and towels close at hand. No, silly, not for Mister, but for me.

Sigh.

The Holidays Just “Flu” Right By Me

Note:  Yes, I know this is not a timely subject.  I'm running on Mormon Standard Time.  I've been trying to play catch-up since the holidays and not doing a very good job of it.  Heck.  I just now took down my Christmas decorations at work!  Better late than never?

I hate to admit it but the holiday season of 2012-2103 was pretty danged dismal.

The week before Christmas – felt a little puny.  But that’s nothing new.  I drive myself (and those around me) crazy with all the holiday traditions.  And end up getting sick.

But this year I did so much better – or so I thought.  Made little stops here and there picking up gift cards and/or goodies.  Didn’t spend too much –at least not as bad as in previous years.  Decided to do my last run to WM & Kohl’s the weekend before Christmas.  Heck! I even made plans to wrap presents vs. my just handing them their stuff in Target sacks (a cherished family tradition).  But it was not to be.

On the Friday before Christmas I went downhill faster than an Olympic skier (or, since this is Texas, faster than a kid on an ice block barreling down a steep hill).  At 8:00 AM I as fine.  9:30 – maybe a little sniffley.  11:20 – I was out the door, on my way home.  I knew I was sick when I passed on by WM and Kohl’s.  I didn’t care how much more shopping I had to do.  I was sick.

We were invited to my department party that evening.  Early in the day I told my manager that yes, indeedy, Jim & I would be there.  So our evening plans changed pretty fast, too.  No party.  No shopping.  No stopping for treats on the way home.  Just a straight shot to my driveway and then to my couch.

My usual holiday time, rundown, tired, not eating right sickness usually lasted only last two days at the longest.  But not this year.  Nope.  This just kept on and on and on.  I didn’t realize that I had the flu, until I heard all the news about the flu on the TV.  Oh - that explained it!

If had known I had the flu, I would have taken some precautions and not have exposed others.  I feel like I was Typhoid Mary.  And if I did infect anybody else?  I'm SO sorry. 

I did get Christmas together for everyone (quick trips to WM where I got to practice speed shopping).  And I did get presents wrapped (staying up to 2:00 AM on Christmas day).  I was existing on not-so-healthy food and ice chips.  Nothing cures the flu faster than a handful of Pepperidge Farms cookies and some ice chips.  I managed to get some warms soups down me – but I was much more satisfied with the ice. 

We did go through the temple when I was much better.  We got to go through with one of our Gdaughters – going on a mission to Rome in the spring.  Their parents were there.  The adopted parents were, too.  And several folks from her ward.  That was truly awesome.

But we didn’t do our usual movie run.  No one was in the mood or most were cash poor.  The Gkids had other things going on, too.  So all-in-all it was a much quieter Christmas than usual.  But Christmas this year will (hopefully) be much livelier.  We’ll all be well.  Won’t overspend (ha!).  Those that can be home will be.  And we will all share some time together in the true Spirit of the Season.  And remember the reason for the Season.

Better start my list! Because I'm going to have to check it more than twice!!!

Our Loss. Heaven's Gain.

A loss today in my extended family.

My BFF from my childbirthing era lost her husband this morning. She's a wonderful, brave woman who will weather this loss with grace, faith and dignity. She & her Beloved got to be married for only a year, but what a year it was. They lived their life together with humor, compassion, tears and love. And they had fun. Even knowing that their time together in this earthly sphere would be short, they enjoyed their marriage with gusto.

Kudos to their kids from both sides of the aisle that have come together to support each other.

This is a time for joy, not sorrow. We will celebrate that they had a great year of love, fun and laughter, jam making, good food, hugs, fishing and football. They were so blessed. They had more in one short year that some people ever have in their lifetime. And soon a much anticipated sealing for time and all eternity.  

Even their time was short, they lived life large.  You can't get much better than that.

I love this woman.  She's been such a good example to me and mine for years - and she continues to do so.  And I'm so grateful that she found someone to love.  And most importantly someone to love her, too.  She deserved and needed it.

Thank you, Mert, for loving and cherishing my friend.

Lynn, keep on dancin'.  He wouldn't want it any other way.

 

We're safe! For now at least . . .

We are being invaded by bunny wabbits! 

There are four or five of them that visit our little corner of the world on a daily basis.  They don’t belong to anybody on our street.  Their owners live a street over from us.  But the rabbits have figured out how to get out of their backyard, go through the yard behind their house and then over to our street where they have the run of the a two block area. Literally.

Neighbors put out fresh water for them.  Some have put out treats for them, too.  We all look after them.  And folks slow down to make sure that they don’t accidentally run over them.

Our safety is a main concern at this time so you’ll be glad to know that our cats Mister and Cleo are keeping us safe from this hoard of hares. 

Well, actually Cleo just ignores them.  If they’re not applicants for members of her staff then forget them.  They probably wouldn’t sit still long enough for them to do her any good. 

They don’t have opposable thumbs – so their getting food for her is out of the question. 

They can’t get to the tap to pour her fresh non-dog flavored water (she “shares” the water in the water bowl with the dogs only if she must).  And I bet they won’t figure out that they really need to go to the bathtub and fill her “special” cup for her and for her only.

They won’t lay still long enough for her to lay on them so that she can bathe herself (don’t ask). 

And I doubt if she’s up to playing a game of tag – that would only mess up her fur.  So – choke ‘em.  There’s a reason for the phrase “dumb bunny.” 

Mister looks at the rabbits with distaste as they hop around the yard.  We’ve watched him watching them.  His poor little mind just can’t figure out what those things are.  I swear he wrinkles his brow in concentration.  If they get close he gets this “deer caught in the headlight/panic” look on his face.  “Oh, no.  It’s going to eat me.  Get it away.  GET IT AWAY!!!”

It’s good to know now that we will never be able to rely on Mister to save us from anything. Advance warning is always a good thing.

Protect us from Invading aliens?  Nope. 

Zombies.  Are you kidding?  They’re dead people w/ flesh falling off of them.  And they smell funny. 

Ice cream men?  He runs the other way when he hears their carts coming at us. 

Small children going door to door trying to raise money for a school fund-raiser?  Well, maybe them because they’ll pet him.  They won’t get him food.  But if they shower him with adoration and affection – then they are (for that moment) a means to an end.

This cat has quite the following in the ‘hood.  He is gorgeous.  And he is huge. The mailman stops to pet him. Small children drag their grandparents behind them as they run up to lavish love on him.  These folks just fawn all over him.  And Mister takes it all in stride.  He puts on quite the show for his adoring audience.  Sheesh.  What a ham.

So – we can’t depend on him for any kind of security (I guess we need to take down the sign that says “Beware of attack cat”).  But we can still rely on him to be part of our 72 hour kit.  One bite at a time.

Meet Our Little Mrs. Sunshine AKA Moonbeam

One of the sweetest, dearest phone calls I’ve ever received:

Ring.

Me:  Hello?

Her:  Hello, Mother-in-law.

Me:  Hello, Daughter-in-law.

And I grin from ear-to-ear.

The newest member of our family is our sweet, sweet ClaireMarie. Well, she’s been a member of the family for a while but now it’s OFFICIAL (tah-duh-duh-dum!!!!).

She and our oldest got married out in Arizona.  Met with the State and/or County Authorities for paperwork to sign.  Then went to a botanical garden where they met up with a small number of friends . Words were said over them.  Vows shared.  And a kiss to seal the deal.

Unfortunately we didn’t get to attend but that’s okay.  There will be a huge party later.  We’ll all show up, ooh and ahh over them, meet new friends, hug old ones, eat, take pictures, eat some more.  And if we’re lucky – maybe we’ll get to dance. 

These two are certainly meant for each other.

She’s smart.

He is, too.

She’s beautiful.

He ain’t bad either.

She’s a tad shy.

He’s never met a stranger.

Her other persona is Doctor PhD) Clark .

He doesn’t have another persona.  What you see is what you get.

She’s (hopefully) finished with school.

He’s (hopefully) going to graduate in 3ish years.

She’s kinda grown up.

He’s working on it.

We couldn’t be happier – unless they lived closer to home.  But they’re working on that, too.

I’m so pleased that they met each other.  For years we’ve been praying that someone very special would come into his life.  To soften his heart.  To make him happy.  Laugh at his jokes.  Groan with appreciation at his puns.  Stand by his side.  Learn to love him.  Listen to his woes (and he’s had a few of those). And help guide him in the right direction.

She’s done that..

Our sweet girl is helping smooth away the rough edges.  Soften his heart.  Strengthen his soul. Appreciate his many good qualities.  And teach him how to love. 

All that and EVEN more.

They are blessed.  And they don’t even know how blessed they are.  But someday they will.  I think that they will come to that realization of all their blessings and how much love they have when they hit a rough spot, start to skid off the road of life but are able to right their direction – clinging to each other. And they’ll look at each other in amazement – “We did it!!!

As Jim & I grew into our marriage we hid many speed bumps.  But we were very lucky because we were able to get back on our path.  Stronger than ever.

Bring on the world.  My Sunshine and Moonbeam can handle it.  Together. With hearts in hand.  A smile on their faces. A prayer in their heart. Ready to meet and greet whatever comes their way.

Ta da!

All that and more . . .

Look at me – I’m Brenda Lee!!!

(With apologies to the song writers of “Grease” fame and to the writers of “The Closer”.)

I’m supposed to watch my sugars. 

“Supposed to watch them do what?” you may ask. 

Not be anywhere near the vicinity of my mouth.

But I just can’t seem to help myself.  Most know that I have little self control.  I have a hard time telling me, "no".  And it's even worse when it comes to food (of any kind) that I'm not supposed to have.

I’m the department admin so I’m “responsible” for making sure that my little band of co-worker bees are happy AKA have swell treats on hand.  Which I do – in abundance.

I do try.  I keep the “good stuff” in another part of the office.  I keep a container of things I don’t particularly care for on my admin bar.  Less temptation.  Plus Starbursts stick to my teeth.  And make my tongue turn funky colors.  So it’s not a big threat.

However, the candy in the files area IS a threat to me.

So I sneak over there during the day and just grab a piece or two.  Toss it in my desk so that I can’t see it, shut the drawer, and pretend that I don't know it's there.  And for the majority of the time I’m just fine with that.  Until I hear those obnoxious little murmurings from my drawer.

“Eat meeeeeeee.”

“You want some of this?  You know you do!”

“These are snack size so they don’t count for much.”

I can usually sometimes ignore those promptings, that is unless I’m stressed, depressed, happy, sad, lonely, frantic, etc.  You get the idea.

I opened my drawer a few minutes ago and I can say is that Brenda Lee would be proud.  Candy of just about any brand that you can think of.  Even a few that I’ve never heard of before.  And for today those lovely little bite-sized chocolate candies will be my nemesis.  Tomorrow – who knows?  Maybe the bananas or apples or oranges that the building management supplies for us, but I doubt it.

But for now I’m licking my fingers, trying to catch every tiny little morsel so that it doesn’t land in my keyboard (what? You think I use canned air to clean once a week just to keep my desk in some semblance of order?  Silly.  Not even close.

Twizzlers used to have the slogan, “Makes mouths happy.”  Unfortunately I’ve discovered that they aren’t the only ones that are making me happy today.

I know.  I’ll pay for it later.  But this is a sad case of “I want what I want when I want it.”

Check on me tonight.  I’ll be the one passed out on the couch.

When I was 17 . . . .

When we had our first cold spell a couple of weeks ago, I woke up just knowing that I was 17.  17?  Really?  Yes, really. 

I was ready to jump out of bed, grab my favorite jumper and long sleeve blouse from the closet.  Put on my cat-eye glasses.  Find my penny loafers and my knee socks.  Rat my hair, smooth it in place and spray the living daylights out of with AquaNet hairspray.  Smear lip gloss on my lips (Bonne Bell, of course).  Grab my books that were covered with paper bags from the Safeway.  And race out the door just in time to catch the school bus. 

But alas and alack.  Imagine my surprise when I got to the bathroom and found the reflection of someone’s grandmother looking back at me.  I was sure that I would see my seventeen year old self in the mirror.  Who was that person staring at me?  My brain was absolutely convinced that I was a junior in high school, with all the perks and problems of youth.  Way before I had gray hair, stretch marks and crows’ feet.  Just in time for the youth revolution of the late 60s.  Right at the end of the girl groups.  And the beginnings of Jimi Hendrix’s flaming guitar, Me & Bobby McGee and the Beatles vs. Yoko.

Until recently, I never thought about how much someone’s outside never really reflected their insides.  And, suddenly, there I was - a teenaged girl trapped in this old(er) body.

No wonder my kids (especially my older daughter) cringes when I dance in the aisle at the grocery store.  And now my Gkids are starting to look the other way, too.  What.  You don’t feel the urge?  Well, it was okay when I was younger!  And when folks saw me dancing to the music down aisle 7 – they’d smile.  “Aaah.  Someone so young who loves life!”  But now it’s just staring – or heading the other way when they see me coming.  A grandmother would NEVER act like that.

And sometimes – no, a lot of times - I forget that I’m supposed to act my age.  How does one do that?  Do I suddenly need to find a cane that goes with all my outfits?  Can I no longer wear glasses that are a little funky and have to settle for wireless granny glasses?  Will I have to have blue hair that’s ratted into place and resemble a hair sprayed helmet (with or without AquaNet).  Is this the end of my car dancing days (Which tickles the crossing guards as I drive by on my way to work.  Well, at least they seem to appreciate it and they always wave back at me.)  And that I can no longer keep up the kids, much less my grandkids?   And that the fart/burp jokes that my Gkids tell are no longer funny?  But if I do that by accident (I swear) that it’s embarrassing for them but funny to me?

Well, let me just say this about that:  (ahem!)  Hell. No. I. Won’t. Go.

I can’t help that the 17 year old me comes flying from beneath the surface from time to time, which sometimes means that the filter comes off of my mouth.  And I enjoy having people think that I was once a hippie chick even if I never inhaled.  I mean – never even touched the stuff (I didn’t have to because I’m a party waiting to happen all by myself.).  That I laugh at all the wrong times and for all the wrong reasons just like I did back then.  I apologize (but not really) for embarrassing either my husband, kids or my Gkids from time to time because I don’t “act my age”.  I enjoy feigning shock at all the right times and for all the wrong reasons, getting a kick out of Aggie jokes horrid puns, and knock-knock jokes.  That I’m just as socially awkward now as I was back then.

But I do mind creaky joints, aching muscles, being reminded by my father (of all people) that I don’t need a two-story house.  I hate having to act my age when all I want to do is squirm out this old(er) body, getting my dancing shoes on and rock to the beat.  I don’t like that often I have trouble climbing stairs.  And that sometimes going downstairs is no picnic either.

I hate not remembering things, events, places or faces.  As I’ve stated before – my poor husband and older daughter have to be my memory.  Some of the things I do recall I consider odd or embarrassing to have remembered (like convincing my younger brother to dress up in a blouse, pencil skirt, scarf & high heels and then taking a picture to prove it).  And then I find myself fretting myself into a frenzy because I can’t even remember what I did last weekend.  Or the name of some of the members of our ward.  People I’ve known for years.  And their names?  Gone.    (That problem would be solved if everyone would just wear a nametag like the missionaries!)

I don’t like not being able to hear everyone’s conversations.  And why does it, at times, seem that everyone’s whispering?  Am I supposed to be thrilled that my hearing isn’t as good as it used to be?  And my eyesight?  Not too bad, but why am I now get nervous driving in a part of town that I’m not familiar with when it gets dark. Or almost panic driving at night when it rains. 

My hair is fine.  Very short and worn with Attitude. And I’ve come to appreciate the lovely patina that it’s developing.  And my wrinkles?  I’ve earned them.  My skin does have a lovely glow – thanks to a great shade of blush and the wonder of modern cosmetics and skin care.  And I hate that my cute freckles are now merging together and turning into age spots.  At what age did my skin start doing that?

And I just hate realizing that sooner rather than later that I’ll be leaving this earth.  Which isn’t a bad thing, but it’s just that I really am only 17 and I still have so much to do. 

See – I have this bucket list that gets longer every day.  The younger me is proud of that list and just knows that all will be checked off one by one.  But the older me realizes that I have to be practical and just scratch some things off, knowing that I’ll never have the money or the time.

Regrets?  I’ve had a few.  But the good I’ve experienced in my life outweighs all the sorrows, bad luck, missed opportunities, and wrong decisions that were of my own choosing.

Yet when I compare the “old” me (at 17) with the “new” me I realize that I’m more blessed than I could ever have imagined. And that I keep forgetting the Powers that be how grateful I am for all I’ve experienced – the good, the not so good and the bad.

That the image in the mirror may not be as cute as that 17 girl, but I’m okay with that.  I’ve had so much fun and I know that are still plenty of happy times ahead and great memories to build. 

That I haven’t used up all the gifts that were given to me.  I’ve even discovered new ones as I gained experience in this life.  That at 17, I never really appreciated the people and things around me.  I’m still working on it, but I’m so grateful for what I have.  And the things I know.  But that there’s so much I still have to learn.  And experience.  And share. And grow.

My life’s grand at 17 or 62. 

When I was 17, it WAS a very good year.  But at 62, so much better.

Dedicated to LED.  Keep on dancin'!