Showing posts with label Satan's Cat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Satan's Cat. Show all posts

11.28.2011

My Failures and Potential-Failures So Far This Week

Here is a blog in unrelated paragraphs. Because I am a REALLY GREAT blogger. 

NaNoWriMo ends on Wednesday... I only have 40,000 words and things are not going well in my plot. I really want to finish, but failure feels eminent. I am regretting every plot choice I ever made. So, you know, nothing really new.

**********

I restarted WeightWatchers today. I'm not going to go to meetings anymore, because all the ones near me are so lame that they make me want to cry or hit someone, which is not really conducive to losing weight. I think this was part of the reason I did so badly the last time--I hated going to my meetings and, therefore, began to resent the plan altogether. Well, that and my soul crushing job with saboteurs. Instead, I plan to weigh myself at home every Monday between 9:00-10:00 am and do all my tracking online. I've done really well so far today with the points. Also, when I weighed in this morning, I was so afraid I would be heavier than my original starting weight from 3 years ago (which was over 300 lbs) and have been mentally preparing for the awful number. Praise Jesus, I am not over 300 lbs! But it's close enough. So it's a good thing I'm starting again.

However, I got an e-mail from WeightWatchers today that said that the program would be changing next Monday. I have to say, I got a little bit pissed. On the one hand, how could they know that I was planning on restarting exactly one week before they changed everything? They couldn't. So calm down, self. But on the other hand? They changed the plan around Thanksgiving last year in such a major way that I basically threw my hands in the air and gave up. So to get that e-mail on the Morning of My Renewed Commitment To Avoid Being Fat was slightly discouraging. But I bucked up, because it's either go with the flow or be 700 lbs by the time I'm 30. I think you can see this was not a terribly difficult choice.

**********

Sister and I have finally finished LOST. It took us longer than most shows, but I think it was worth it. I've loved that show for a long time and Sister seemed to enjoy it, too. I know a lot of people hated the ending, but I thought it was kind of poetic and beautiful (even if it IS diametrically opposed to most of my personal theology) and had a nice symmetry with the pilot episode. Also, I'm not sure how they could have worked it out with any kind of closure with the rate that they killed people off, except for the way that they did it. So, in pathetic summation of a not-really review, Sister and I enjoyed it.

We had kind of already moved on to the most recent season of Big Bang Theory in the middle of the sixth season, just to lighten things up, so we finished that on the same day. We were wondering what to jump into next, since we have both now seen every single episode of every single show we own on DVD. But then I bought the first season of White Collar and we're back in business. For another twenty episodes, at least. Then hopefully we'll get something new for Christmas or we'll find something on good sale and be off again. Or there's always rewatching... West Wing, perhaps?

But I could use suggestions in the comments, if you guys have a TV show you like and want to share.

**********

Remember when I told you about how our furnace was acting like a melodramatic emo teen girl? Well, we seem to have fixed it. Except that it still FEELS about 67 degrees in here, but the thermostat SAYS it's 70. I think we may have reached the secretive and lying teenager phase.

Also, every once in a while, there will be a really hot smell coming from the vents. Like when you turn the furnace on at the end of the summer and it has to burn away some of the dust, since it hasn't been used in a long time? Except that NO, furnace, you were on TEN MINUTES AGO--there should be no accumulated dust to burn off. So Sister and I periodically have to run around like crazy people and climb into the half-basement to make sure the HOUSE IS NOT BURNING DOWN (because the one time we don't check, it will be...). So I think we have also made it to the "Teen smokes periodically and secretively in the basement" phase.

Pretty soon, I expect the heating vents to start yelling things like "You're ruining my life!" and "YOU! Are a MURDERER! Of LOVE!!!!"

[Name that quote and I'll make you my BFF for a day.]

**********

Last week, I used one of my favorite insulated polka-dot cups to make myself iced coffee, which was DELICIOUS. But I forgot to wash it out and the last tiny bit of coffe-milk and the melted icecubes have sat in it getting really nasty for several days. Because I keep these things all around the house with water in them, I didn't notice for a little while. LUCKILY, I did not try to drink it--I think I just gagged a little even thinking about it. But it was pretty gross when I opened it, so I had to scrub it really well with hot water and a lot of soap--something I don't do very often if all it carries is water.

EXCEPT?

I totally forgot that Sister had replaced the sponge on our little scrubby thing (you know the kind, with the scrubby sponge and the liquid soap all conveniently stored in the handle?). And the scrubby part of the sponge was all EXTRA BRAND NEW SCRUBBY and I totally scratched the heck out of the inside of my cup. As in, it's no longer transparent, only translucent. In a sad sad translucent way. And every time I go to take a sip of water, it makes me sad. And a little mad at myself for not seeing this coming.

I think my world has gotten really small since I quit my job....


**********
Do you remember when I told you that Satan's Cat has started watching the ice dispenser on the fridge for drips because of that one time I overfilled a cup and she thought the dripping water was a toy? You don't? Well, I'm not going to link to the post, because I'm pretty sure that story is an obscure side-reference anyway and you'll be all confused when you click on the link and the post is all about me quitting my job. So, just remember that she used to watch for drips to chase.

Well, now, she also wants ice cubes. I'm not sure what she thinks she'll do with it if we were to give her one. Sister thinks she might like to chase it across the wood floor and is afraid of it getting stuck somewhere and melting and warping the floor. I think she's more creative than that. Maybe she's trying to make herself a Jack & Coke. We are totally kitty-buzz-kills. And? If she's satanic normally, I fear what she would be like with lowered inhibitions.

Anyway, every time we run the ice dispenser, she comes running and then stands under it crying when we don't let her have one. We have turned the tiny kitty tables on her though. Anytime we need to leave and she's hiding to avoid being put away (it's not like that has EVER kept her from being put away, but it has occasionally made us late for things, so I guess she's still winning), we just run the dispenser for a moment and she appears, as if by magic.

There was one day recently that we couldn't find her anywhere. None of her usual hiding places were occupied, she hadn't gotten locked in the laundry room, she was NOWHERE. We were wandering around, kind of bemused as to where she could have squirreled herself away, because there was NOWHERE we hadn't looked. Then I ran the ice machine and there she was. Magic Cat.

We're hoping that if we do this enough, she will learn our trick and stop showing up at the fridge when we want ice. It might make her harder to find in a time crunch, but we're really tired of making ourselves something to drink with an angry cat blocking the fridge.

**********

Okay, now that I've warmed myself up on this failure of a blog post, I think I'll try my hand at noveling. Again. Only 10,000 more words to go and I still haven't gotten them CLOSE to being in love. I am THE BEST AUTHOR EVER!

11.18.2011

UPDATED: Commenting Failures, Foiled Rants, and Bait & Switch Snack Cakes


First, bloggy business: 

This blog has a web version and a mobile version. I love the mobile version, which I only discovered was available a month or so ago. I'm guessing that a lot of you guys who access your feedreader or twitter via your phones also appreciate the streamlined mobile version. But I discovered something last night. Commenting is OBNOXIOUS on the mobile version. I apologize that I didn't notice this before. The reason it is OBNOXIOUS is that it uses the standard Blogger commenting system, which includes the dreaded word verification.

On the web version, I have DISQUS installed. I don't know how you guys feel about DISQUS, but I've found it to be a great commenting program. I like that I can reply directly to comments, link to them, and moderate them on an external platform--it's more customizable than the standard Blogger system. But DISQUS doesn't seem to have a mobile version and Blogger doesn't allow me to do anything other than say yes or no to the mobile version. It does not allow me to manage anything about it, once it is in place.

This adds two problems if you want to comment on the mobile version: You have to go through the dreaded word verification AND the comment doesn't show up in DISQUS on the web version or send me any kind of notification that you commented. Which means that I am probably missing quite a few comments right now. There is a work around that is possible: I can go to DISQUS and import all the comments periodically to pick up those that were made on the mobile version. But this will most likely lead to repeat comments in DISQUS. Which is annoying. 

So here's what I need from you:
1. How do you feel about DISQUS on the web version?

2. How do you feel about the Blogger commenting system on either version?

3. A. Should I remove DISQUS altogether so that both versions are the same?

3. B. Should I turn off the mobile version so that you only have access to the web version on your phone and will therefore use DISQUS by default?
3. C. Should I leave it as is and re-import periodically and run the risk of missing and/or repeating comments?

Let me know and I'll do my best to find a solution.

Second, foiled rants:

I had this inspiration to get all ranty about those new toilet paper commercials about the "roll cover." Because having a "naked toilet paper roll" is apparently "inappropriate, dude!" Like getting a cutesy  cardboard cylinder with a cap is some kind of incentive to buy your brand of toilet paper. It's FREAKING TOILET PAPER! Who cares if it's naked. It's all ridiculous.

But when I sat down to write this, a warm kitty Satan's Cat nestled on my lap. This is unhelpful for two reasons. One, because I could not comfortably reach the keyboard and we all know ranty posts require excellent access to the keys (especially my shift key) in order to really give it that extra oomph. Two, because apparently all of those statistics and studies are right about how cats lower blood pressure and increase calmness (which I have never really understood before, because my blood pressure is usually through the roof with this cat, what with all her climbing and destroying and whining) and I got too comfortable to give it the effort it requires.

So, while I was all poised get a good RANT on, the cat muffled it with her snuggliness. She is such a rant foiler. She's gone now, but I can't seem to relocate my rant--it ran away when she did. Now all I can accomplish is: Toilet paper covers are silly, right? Just... silly... and unnecessary... and, um... silly, right?

This is probably why Temerity Jane is so much funnier than me--she has dogs. Well, that, and also an incredible wit. Hmmm... So maybe it's not about the pets...

Third, bad gifts:

Now I have nothing ranty or interesting to tell you. This post has basically been poorly disguised maintenance work. It's like a snack cake with a kind of cardboardy cookie-thing on the outside, but you bite in anyway, because you assume that the filling will be all light and tasty and sweet, but all you get is a mouthful of... shaving cream. Or spray-foam insulation. Yes, that's it.

I lured you here with the promise of a delicious and delightful snack cake and all you got was insulated cardboard. So basically, I built you a poor excuse for a house. You're welcome?




UPDATED: Rant now included in the comments, for no additional charge! Act now and you, too, can be reading ridiculous opinions on toilet paper concealment devices.  

Offer does not include shipping & handling, operations & maintenance, travelers insurance, or indemnity against stolen identities, over-crowding of toilet paper concealment devices, or loss of friends because you are lame. Batteries sold separately. Void where prohibited. Offer ends 30 days from receipt of this notice.

11.14.2011

In Which I Make Zero Sense, Anger Moms and Pet Owners, and Become a Bad Babysitter

Godson is over today. He's currently napping, which makes this a perfect time to blog. If only I had anything remotely interesting to say. This would probably be a better time for me to nap, as well. I don't know how the mom bloggers do it. I guess if I had him all day every day, I would have a space set aside for him to play by himself, instead of having to watch him like a hawk because the house isn't baby proof and we have a few breakables. Luckily, most of those are up high, due to Satan's Cat. Come to think of it, having Satan's Cat is a lot like having an unruly toddler around all the time.

Oh, hold onto your angry words, mom bloggers. I am not comparing my cat to your baby. I know they are nowhere near the same thing. In fact, I HATE it when people call their pets their "babies" because no. Just no. That is a dog. You may bring it with you everywhere, strap it into a special seat in your car, and feed it only the organic whole grain crap-in-a-pouch that you find in the refrigerated section at the grocery store (!), but it is REALLY just a DOG. I know you love it (I love my pets, too), but it is NOT A HUMAN. It can survive without your constant attention. Whether you can survive without giving it constant attention is another thing entirely.

But if we're talking about sheer destructive power, I think my cat might be able to wreck more than your average toddler. Sure, she doesn't have opposable thumbs (oh how badly she wishes that weren't true), so things like permanent markers on the walls is out of her depth (I think...). But she can climb higher than a two-year-old and has uncanny aim when smashing valuables. Plus, when was the last time your toddler poked holes in all the bags of bread in your house and waited for all of it to go stale and/or moldy? Toddlers may be destructive, but Satan's Cat is nefarious.

Anyway, this was not supposed to turn into MY CAT CAN BEAT YOUR KID kind of argument. I'm just saying that feline-proofing your house is very similar to child-proofing. She will eat anything paper or plastic, so the floors have to be kept pretty clean or she'll choke. That's pretty useful to have already accomplished when Godson comes over.

I am very off track. I had just planned to tell you about my morning with Godson. And to compliment you moms on how you get it all done and still manage to blog without someone spilling orange juice on your keyboard (I would hesitate to type that because that hasn't happened yet and I wouldn't want to jinx it, but we don't have any orange juice in the house, so I think we're safe). But instead of complimenting you, I somehow got in an argument with you. Let's start over, shall we?

Godson is over today. He's currently napping, which makes this a perfect time to blog (heh... I'm a VERY literal person). His mom had to work the opening shift, so she brought him over at 9:00 am, still in his jammies. We watched two episodes of Little Einsteins, which I chose over Dora because. Well, because Dora drives me nuts! Listen, I love knowing how to speak Spanish and I plan to teach my kids from an early age. But probably without Dora's help. So I chose Little Einsteins, thinking it might be more educational and a little less obnoxious. Go ahead, call me a Noob. Who knew that climbing the Matterhorn was as simple as three switch backs? I would have done it years ago! And the little blond girl that starts all the songs? GAH!

Well, the kid loved it and seemed to understand more than I thought he would. So I shouldn't complain. But then there was Mickey Mouse Club House. Does anyone else HATE Mickey's voice? I don't remember him being so obnoxious when I was that age. But maybe the high-pitched sing-songy thing common on kid's shows today was something I just didn't notice back then? Finally, I shut off the television (under the guise that "it's not that good for him" but mostly because I couldn't hack it anymore). I changed him into real clothes (an adorable button-down and dark jeans, because him mom is awesome like that!).

Then we played with some new animal toys I had bought him. A few weeks ago, I had bought some from the Target "See Spot Save" section for $2.50 a piece. A lion, a zebra, an elephant, and a giraffe.

They scared the bejesus out of him!

The end of the elephant's trunk was red, as was the inside of his mouth. And Godson kept saying, "No! HURT!" and backing away with his hands over his mouth in fear. I finally had to hide them from him to get him to take his bath. I took them back the next day and was kind of bummed that I had no kid toys at my house for him. A few days after that, I found similar (but friendlier) ones at a CRAFT STORE of all places for $1 each. So I bought an elephant, a giraffe, a lion, a tiger, a zebra, and a hippo. More toys, less fear, and for $4 less. SCORE.

We played with these for a while and then we colored. The power went out and we talked about the "broken" lights. The power came back on and we KEPT talking about the broken lights, which were no longer broken. We ate lunch--he can be a picky eater, but I got him to eat an entire thing of blueberry yogurt and some crackers, so I'm calling it a win. We crawled around on Sister's bed playing peek-a-boo with the covers. I "threw" him in the air to land on her pillows. We played with the animals some more. We talked about how all of them had tails and ears and eyes and noses. We made the noises. We talked about their colors and spots and stripes and teeth (which were vaguely scary to him, but I think I have him convinced that they don't "bite," they "kiss."). We bashed them together, we threw them on the floor (we threatened to take them away), we played nicely again. We went down for a nap.

And all of this is probably incredibly boring to you and I don't blame you. I love the kid and enjoy spending time with him, but these activities are not exactly high on my priority list. The only reason I'm listing them out is that it is 1:00 pm and he will be up from his nap soon and I AM OUT OF THINGS TO DO WITH HIM!

Help me, please? I've got some playdough. Is two-and-a-half old enough for playdough? If I watch him REALLY closely? And on the bad/good babysitter scale, where does taking him out in the snow without snow pants fall? I mean, he's got boots and a winter coat. But probably no gloves. And definitely no snow pants. So probably on the "bad" end of the scale, right? Because freezing a child is a bad decision... Okay, how about sitting him in front of the television until 6:00 pm. Also bad? Hmmm. Maybe we will go for a drive somewhere. Like the LIBRARY! Libraries are good for kids, right? We'll pack him in the car and-- Wait. Nope. The scary treacherous Snow Anxiety will probably send me right over the edge if I have to worry about my bones AND the bones of a toddler who doesn't belong to me. I think we'll be staying home, thankyouverymuch. So, um, playdough?

11.03.2011

Buckat or A Square Shaped Feline

Satan's Cat has taken to sitting in very strange places. Do you remember when I said that she plays a game we call Statue Kitty? Where you look at her and she's sitting all primly in one spot, completely ignoring you, but if you look away and look back, she's somewhere else entirely, in the exact same pose and still ignoring you? That game? Well, anyway, this is not really like that. So... Um.Right.

It's not really a game. And it's not so much the same position. It's just that she's (all of the sudden) gravitating toward some really ridiculous places to hang out. So we'll be wandering around the house and come upon her and just shake our heads in confusion. It all started with Bucket Cat, or Buckat as we've taken to calling it. Then it was other buckets. And containers. Then it was anything at all, really.

You know what, pictures demonstrate this much better. And I had planned this to be a photo-heavy post. So let's move on.

The original Bucket Cat.
Variations on the Buckat Theme
Ah am TEH RULER OF TEH BUCKET! As such, I think I am entitled to a little PRIVACY in my bucket.
We know she has always liked to perch in inconvenient, but relatively normal (for a cat) places to sit:

You're making cookies? I don't thinks so, fatty. I will sit here and judge your food choices. And block the oven.
If I sit here long enough and nonchalantly enough, maybe you won't notice when I try to roam the counter-tops...
But some of the places she chooses to sit are purposefully (I swear!) unhelpful. Because the world revolves around her and if you do ANYTHING that does not focus on her, she will take matters into her own hands paws to get your attention back:

I will not TELL you to stop messing with the computer. But I WILL make it incredibly difficult for you to ignore me.
This show is stupid; pay attention to me instead. What laser eyes? Oh, that's just some of the demon coming out of me.
We've BEEN OVER this whole computer thing!
I may look cute and snuggly, but I really just think crossword puzzles are  BORING!
But recently, she's decided that being Buckat was not enough. She MUST CONQUER ALL CONTAINERS!

I will sit in this bucket for twenty minutes, six times a day, for the rest of time. Just watch me. Every time you look, I will BE IN THIS BUCKET. No, I don't CARE that it's a BOX. It's a BUCKET to ME.
Yep. I found another bucket. I think you underestimate my devotion to these buckets... They don't even need to be open!
What do you mean "I don't think this qualifies as a bucket?" It's a squarish container that I fit into. It also has the side benefit of being really inconvenient for you and you laundry pursuits. It's a BUCKET!
I know this drawer wasn't open a minute ago. I opened it. Duh.
ALL cats like paper bags. Stop judging me.
And then she was no longer content to rule only the buckets and set out on a quest to rule All Things Squarish, container or not. The first prong of her battle plan was to take on the towels. All towels must now submit to her and her...royal sittage.

You put this towel here for me, right? So that when you take your bath, I can be warm and relaxed, too, right? It wasn't for your neck, right? That's what I thought.
I have claimed this towel. Go away now and let us be alone for a little while.
This one is little, but it put up a heck of a fight. I MUST SUBDUE IT!
After all the towels were conquered, she moved on to all the other squarish HARD things:

Not only have I taken over this vent, but I am stealing all your warms, too. MUAHAHAHA!
I love when you do projects on the floor! In a few minutes, I will sit on top of a picture frame and conform my body to its exact shape, but I will run away before you can take the picture. FYI.
What is this "clipboard" thing you speak of?
I'm not sure what the compulsion is for her. But it makes for an interesting time at our house. You never know where you're going to find her, but you're pretty much assured she will be on top of something strange or inconvenient in a mostly squarish shape.

Staying home all day has turned me into such an intellectual, poignant, and relevant blogger, don't you think?

10.26.2011

Terrible Twos & Things Roommate Should Already Know

Godson is over today. His mom works in retail, so her hours are variable and his regular sitter can’t always take him. So, when I’m unemployed, I take him about once a week or so. Today, she brought him over a few hours earlier than her shift so that we could hang out and eat lunch together.

However, Godson is having a week of the Terrible Twos. This is especially odd because he is usually such a well-behaved, sweet little boy and usually is content to play near us or sit on a lap while we catch up. Not so, today. Since he arrived at 11:00 am, he’s had two time outs, a quick swat (what my mother always calls Shock Pops, since they don’t hurt at all, are very quickly administered, and serve merely as a warning and a redirection of attention), and is now napping, earlier than usual. We're into the whole bending-the-knees-refusing-to-stand-failing-to-listen-defiant-and-grumpy-and-clingy phase. I think it might be a growth spurt or a flu bug, but it doesn't really matter. We've still got to deal with the behavior. Which is not always fun for Auntie Elise (all of you moms out there are laughing at me and rolling your eyes. I can totally see you; don't think I can't!). I’m hoping to get this post done before he wakes up and we go for Round Two. We’ll see.

Yesterday, I posted Roommate’s answers to my Sunday Meet & Greet Survey, which I hope served as a good introduction to one of my favorite people. Today, I thought I’d attempt to answer at least some of the questions she posed. It all depends on Godson, really, and today is probably not the best day to test that. Oh well. Here we go:

My questions to you (whenever you feel like it, add your reasoning behind your answers)

Question the first: Out of the states that you have yet to visit, which is your favorite?
This is a ridiculous and silly question, but I will answer it as best I can. Since I was a little girl, I have always loved Colorado. Except that I have never been there. I think it’s because one of my childhood friend’s had relatives there and would go visit and have a great time and came back with wonderful stories, so I always wanted to go. Also, I think the Carolinas hold a certain appeal. But to be honest, I would love to visit most of the states I have never been to. With the exception of maybe Kansas or Arkansas, because I’ve been told all kinds of (probably stereotypically untrue) things about how boring those places are.

Question the second: What is your favorite spot in the entire world?
I’m kind of in love with Roommate’s Uncle’s beach house that we stayed at in Hawaii (minus the tiny ants that I went all ninja on). But more than likely, if there was any place in the world that I could choose to be at any given time, it’s tucked into the corner of my awesome purple couch with a good book and a blanket. Although I am rather partial to being tucked under my Papa’s arm on my parent’s couch watching educational TV. It’s just so… soothing? comfortable? It’s just so right.

Question the third: Coke or Pepsi?
Pepsi. Diet Pepsi, actually. But definitely Pepsi. In fact, Roommate… I’m kind of offended you even had to ask…

Question the fourth: What is your single favorite memory from college?
Funtain Diving, hands down. Someday, I will blog about Funtain Diving. But every time I try to write it, I can’t quite capture the essence of the ceremony and tradition. That's just the favorite, though. I really enjoyed the rest of it, too. Especially the times we lived together (without Liar). Those were pretty awesome times.

Question the fifth: What is your favorite flower?
Alstroemeria? Or maybe Crocus? All I know is that I love flowers, especially colorful and good smelling ones. I’m not really picky about which ones, as long as they are beautiful and arranged nicely. This will either make it very difficult or very easy for my future husband. Maybe someday, I’ll develop a favorite…

Question the sixth: Orange or black?
Orange. Again, I am a little annoyed you’d have to ask. ALWAYS COLOR! Especially the warm colors like reds, oranges, and yellows.

Question the seventh: Give me your best explanation as to why the sun is yellow (your answer is encouraged to not be scientifically sound).
The sun is yellow because God knew that we would all be looking at it every day to judge time, to seek light, to find warmth, and to produce food for us. He understood that yellow is one of the most pleasant colors he had created and wanted use to enjoy everything about the sun. He’s also a very good designer and knew that the yellow complimented the blue of the sky, the reddish-brown of the earth, and the green of the plants. It’s all about coordinating colors, you know.

OR! The sun is really made out of molten nacho cheese and that’ why it’s yellow. Because really hot nacho cheese is yellow, not orange. This whole “the moon is made out of cheese” thing is just plain ridiculous. Wallace and Grommet got it wrong. The moon would be a very dry, crumbly, dusty, yucky cheese that smelled bad. If it were made out of cheese. But it’s not. We ALL know it’s powdered sugar. Duh. So yeah. The sun is yellow because it’s made of nacho cheese. Is that non-“scientific” enough for you, Roommate?

Question the eighth: What is one place outside of the United States that you have never been that you would like to visit for three months?
Costa Rica. If I wasn’t allowed to be an American anymore (which would be a really interesting set of circumstances, since I’m such a law-abiding line-toer and everything), I would move to Costa Rica and build a bungalow in the jungle and drink wine and salsa dance and eat slightly spicy food on the back deck every night for the rest of my life.

Question the ninth: who decided the order of numbers?
I’m going go with either the Romans or the Martians. Either way they were friggin’ brilliant. What I have ALWAYS wanted to know is who put the letters in order? I mean, the order of the numbers has ACTUAL significance because of, well, you know, the COUNTING part of numbers. But the letters? Their order only matters when you put things in alphabetical order and even then, it’s only alphabetical because someone SAID SO! Who was that???

Question the tenth: was that person brilliant or just finding a way to ease his or her OCD?
I have no answers for this. I mean, yes, brilliant. Probably also OCD. But maybe it’s because of the combination of brilliance and mental disorder (can you call an compulsive need for order a mental disorder?) that makes this so hard to answer. Because if I were making up a way to count things that had to start from scratch and put them in order, it would never get done because I would not know where to start. So, yes? Hmmm…


And there’s the murmur of a wakeful toddler. I’d better go get him before he decides to climb the bookshelves or something. I mean, he’s never done it before, but he’s having an off week… No crashes yet, though. So I guess that’s a good sign.

Until next time, remember to spay and neuter your pets. No, wait, I think that’s someone else’s line… Anyway, have a nice day or something, okay?


UPDATE: Godson is still asleep. But I swear I heard him. Either I’m going crazy (likely), he woke up and fell back to sleep (highly irregular), or he murmurs in his sleep (unknown). But now I have time to fold that other load of laundry and maybe even empty the dishwasher. Look at me, being all domestic! 

UPDATED THE SECOND: Satan's Cat just climbed a high shelf and dumped an entire box of her toys all over the floor. A box of jingle bells and rattle balls and Mylar crunchie things. Which of course made a giant crashing noise loud enough to wake the dead, let alone a toddler. While I was silently running after her to grab her and tell her a very stern but quiet "bad kitty," I stomped on one of the jingle balls, busting it in a raucous fashion, injuring my foot, and almost swearing loudly while toppling into other furniture. So much for that laundry getting done (I mean it! I can totally see you mothers snickering with glee! Knock it off!)... 

9.27.2011

A Ridiculously Long Post With a Prize Inside

Well, I have to say, you guys are awesome! The comments on my Sunday Meet and Greet post were entertaining, thought-provoking, and plentiful. I love my readers! Also, you guys asked some really great questions. But before I get to answering all of them (and adding all kinds of information you didn't ask for, which is kind of like a bonus), I have a bone to pick with you. All of you. Or maybe just the universe.

We need to revisit question number ten:

10. When you fold your hands, which thumb is closest to you, left or right?


See, this was a fifty-fifty kind of thing. Only two possible answers. One answer was the right thumb. The other answer was the wrong thumb. I had no idea how many of you would did this wrong. It's obvious that the right thumb goes on top. It's weird and uncomfortable and obnoxious otherwise.

What do you mean other people do things differently? What do you MEAN I phrased the question in regard to your personal thumbs? I don't care if you thought it was about YOUR thumbs, there is still a RIGHT way and a WRONG way to do this hand folding/clasping thing. What do you MEAN I am not the center of the universe? That's just crazy talk.

Okay, so to make sure I'm not erroneously placing myself in the center of the universe (which is where I BELONG, people!), I looked into this issue. According to some very strenuous scientific research (i.e. Google), it seems that either the population is split 50-50 on this or that the left thumb is more common (somewhere within 40-70% of the population). Which is also crazy talk. But according to the comments on this blog, 70% of you go with the left thumb (Linnea, I'm not counting your husband, because he didn't comment for himself and also 8 out of 11 is a more difficult number to turn into a percentage than 7 out of 10).

THIS IS ALL CRAZY TALK!!!

Ahem. Moving on. Since you all showed up in a big way to answer all my question and ask me some pretty awesome ones, too, I thought it was only fair that I have to answer all of them--the ones you asked me AND the ones I asked you. If you've been reading for a while, you know a lot of my answers to these questions, but for the sake of the newbies, I'll do it anyway. But I won't number them. Because I will not be constrained by your rules. Wait, what's that you say? They were my rules to begin with? FINE! I will not be constrained by MY rules. Better? Here goes:

I am single, but I would like to be married. Like yesterday. Married yesterday would be nice. And I don't mean single in the "this government form has three boxes: single, married, or separated and even thought I'm with someone, I'm not married to them yet, so I'm technically single" kind of way. I mean single in the "I may die alone surrounded by a lot of cats and not be found until my neighbors cannot abide the stench any longer" kind of way. Just so we're clear.

I do not have any biological or legally adopted children. But I have taken it upon myself to "adopt" any of my friends' children in so far as I take them for whole days at a time for fun with Auntie Elise, but give them back at bedtime. And I have a niece and a godson. But the above answer should be enough to explain why I am currently childless.

My favorite day of the week is probably Saturday. But that may be skewed by the current situation at my job and the fact that Saturday is my escape. So I'll come back to this one when my soul isn't being crushed by the oppressive weight of a tyrannical and incompetent workplace. I'm thinking it will still be Saturdays, though.

Something weird about me? I think the archives of this blog probably have enough evidence of me wackiness. But I HAVE TO answer the questions. So. Hmm... Here's one I don't think I've mentioned: I think I have a strange form of dyslexia in which I can identify and read letters no matter their orientation (upside-down or mirror image) or position (scrambled among other letters or jumping around the page). I also have to work pretty hard mentally to figure out my right from my left (I know I'm 24 years old and should be able to do this by now, but I swear it's a brain problem, not a lack of teaching or practice). Combine these two and that whole "make an L with your thumb and forefinger to help you remember which is left" thing absolutely.doesn't.help. This may be why I get lost on the way to parties all the time--the directions are both hard to read and hard to follow.

A small change I would make in the world would probably go something along the lines of "The only calories that count are the ones our bodies need to survive and the rest are just for our taste buds." Because it's lame that chocolate cake costs me calories from my daily budget, but celery does not.

I don't think I can effectively answer the favorite blogger question without offending someone. But if you look to your... right? Yes, on the right side portion of the screen is my blogroll, so those are the ones I'm reading all the time. And if you really pressured me, I would probably say Temerity Jane or The Pioneer Woman. But I don't want to diminish my love for all the other ones I REALLY DO LOVE. So forget that last sentence and assume I love them all equally.

I don't know if I can pick out just one favorite childhood memory. The ones that are coming to mind most are the bedtime routine memories, where I'm safe and loved and untroubled. Snuggling up with Papa to read books in my PJs. Laying in bed in the glow of the nightlight with Mom singing over me. Papa telling his Eric the Aardvark stories (remind me to tell you about these someday). All of us kids piled on one of the beds listening raptly as Papa told us about Eric and his animal buddies on a camping trip drinking hot plaid root beer (seriously, I need to tell this story eventually). Those are probably some of the best.

The earliest memory is a diaper change. Mom cloth diapered all of us kids (before they were the adorable, easy-to-use things they are now). When I was about 22 months old, I was Almost Potty Trained. My parents were moving us from the Midwest to Far North, so Mom gave away or got rid of most of the cloth diapering things, thinking she wouldn't really need them in Far North. She figured she'd use disposables for the road trip and the last weeks before I was completely done potty training. But I apparently didn't like the idea of moving and reverted back to Not Potty Trained At All until I was past three (I sure showed her!). One night, we ran out of disposables, so Mom found an old cloth diaper and put it on me with a large safety pin with a plastic yellow ducky for a cap. I remember the pin and laying on the floor near our fireplace. And I remember being VERY uncomfortable in the giant rubber pants. I'm glad those are gone now.

The tweeting question is kind of silly when posed to me, so I'll just say this: If you're interested in my incessant ramblings in 140 characters or less (a big change from this ridiculously long post), click on the little birdy on the top right.

The thing I value most is my family. I should probably give you some churchy answer about how I value Jesus Christ the most (and don't get me wrong, I LOVE that guy) or how my faith is the most important thing to me, but I really think I would not have the faith that I have or the love and reverence for Jesus that I have if it weren't for my family. Both in raising me in the truth and for holding me accountable to it now that I am grown. Plus, they're kind of awesome and they love me. And who doesn't want to be around people who love them?

I'm pretty sure we don't need to go over the whole thumb thing again. But in case you somehow missed it, I PUT MY RIGHT THUMB ON TOP. Just FYI.

Now, some of you have asked for more Satan's Cat stories. Here's a quick one: Our refrigerator has a ice and water dispenser on the outside, but the water has been incredibly slow lately--we think there might be a blockage in the line. A month or so ago, I tried just leaving my cup there (strategically weighed down with ice and propped to keep the water flowing) and coming back in a moment or two because it was taking so long. It worked! So I did it again. And completely overestimated how long I had before I needed to come back to the cup. So I flooded the whole front of the fridge. It was a mess to clean up and water kept running down the front in little droplets, which Satan's Cat tried to chase. A few days later, somehow thinking I had obtained new timing skills, I tried this method again and. Well... I think you know what happened. Apparently twice is enough to train this cat, because now if anyone so much as walks past the fridge, Satan's Cat perches right in front of the door and waits for the drips that will never come. It's gotten to the point where she looks like the Diet Minion Here to Judge Your Food Choices. You have to whack her with the fridge door to get her to move so that you can USE the fridge. My question is, why isn't twice enough to train her not to EAT MY FACE??? Twelve times has not been enough...

Someone else asked what my favorite smell is. That one has me stumped. I think I may have to just say "food in general." Here are a few, though. Freshly ground coffee beans. Baking bread. Baking cookies. Fresh laundry. That tiny spot behind a baby's ear. Apple-cinnamon-caramel-brown-sugar-nutmeg-and-allspice-Thanksgivingy goodness. Cucumber-melon bath products. The mixture of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice aftershave. Freshly mown grass. Newly churned soil after a heavy rain. Gosh, I could go on and on.

Mom: I want a car for Christmas. I know you cannot buy me a car. I know that would not be fair to the other kids, even if you could afford it. But I need a new car. And a new bed. But both are pretty expensive and kind of lame as gifts (because necessities make sad gifts). So maybe an iPad? I don't know. I'll start my list soon, I promise. Probably books, a few CDs, and a movie or two. Oh, and maybe a guest post from you. Because my readers seem to want it. And I think it would be AMAZING! So that, too.

And one of you clever people asked about my favorite holiday. Two days ago, I would have said Christmas--lots of food, the family together, people give me stuff, I get to make people smile by giving them stuff, ALL of the baby Jesus stuff, twinkle lights and decorations, ALL THAT IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD. But then. Yesterday, I invented a holiday. And it's definitely my new favorite. It's called All Quitter's Day (also known as My Day Of Jubilee). Every year on September 26th, anyone who hates their jobs and wants to quit but cannot work up the courage or feels obligated to stay for very silly and only half-valid reasons is allowed to QUIT THEIR JOBS GUILT-FREE. Like I did. Yesterday. And every year, on September 25th (henceforth known as All Quitter's Eve), we will all partake in gratuitous sleeping pill use to calm the crazies in our bellies and the racing in our chests and to work up the courage necessary for the next day. I think this will catch on, don't you?

Someone else asked about my dream job and whether that was against the rules. Yes and no. My dream job in a career/vocational sense is kind of off limits, because it directly relates to what I'm doing right now. But, in general terms, I would like a job that utilizes my talents and pushes me to grow without throwing me in the deep end sans support or guidance and then ridicules me when I fail. And I would like to work for a nice, smart boss who is in the office more that he is not and coworkers who are supportive and friendly without being all up in my personal business. And I would like to be able to leave work at work when I go home. But really? At the end of the day? My dream job is to be a wife and mother. I like working (theoretically, if I could get a good boss) and will do it if I need to after I have kids. But I would love to stay home a keep house and raise decent human beings and spend my day with the people I love and care about. That's the dream.

This same person also posed the ice cream question. I will eat almost any kind of ice cream (please no chunks of frozen fruit), but my hands-down favorite right now is Starbucks Java Chip Frappuccino ice cream. YUM!

Finally, one of you asked about how I express myself when I'm passionate about my topic. I will tell you: VERY LOUDLY and with lots.of.hand.gestures. I have a volume modulation problem most days. I have a voice that projects and some good lungs in my chest, so I have worked all of my life to use my indoor voice. It's actually rather embarrassing, because I often don't realize it and sometimes can't help it. And when I get passionate? All my hard work goes out the window. And also? I'm an incredibly passionate person. It's kind of exhausting, but I have this innate drive to debate and discover and discuss and interact. And I also usually have strong opinions. So my passion bubbles up a lot and so does my volume. The last time I got into a passionate conversation was either regarding how my boss treats me (badly, and I'm indignant) or the direction of our church's Youth Group (because I love those kids and want the best for them). I would rather it be about politics or religion or philosophy or something, because those are fun and also a little less "immediately personal."

So those are my answers. And a lot of extra information. And a prize of sorts. If you found it and it was the kind of thing that you would call a prize. I mean, I did. But maybe you all don't care. And I have no barometer of my sneakiness, so maybe it was obvious. Or maybe you have no idea what I'm talking about. But I'm leaving it as is and we'll figure it out later. And I would apologize for how long this post is, but all this information is CRUCIAL (heh...) and also it's not that much longer than my normal blathering, so... You know. Not sorry.

7.22.2011

I Am Angry; Here's a Cat

I am so full of SPITE and MAD and SPIT and RAGE right now about things that I do not blog about, so instead of writing a whole post of ANGRY, I thought I would leave you with these photos of Satan's Cat.

She is not only evil incarnate, but also a rather theatrical kind of evil: do not fall for the innocent pictures of a soft cuddly kitten. She is death to any he who crosses her. You have been warned.

She is clinging on for dear life. She WILL sit on you, physics be DAMNED!

She's only pretending to sleep. Don't be fooled by the scrunched eyes. She's actually plotting evil.
 
She even has the EVIL EYEBROWS. Or an M on her forehead.
It probably stands for "minion" as in Minion of Satan!


I was facing the other way, minding my business. I glanced to my right and STATUE KITTY.
She pretended not to see me taking the picture.

She only looks cuddly... She's actually flexing her claws to eviscerate me. Again.

Satan's Cat worships fire. Which is a surprise to no one.

Satan's Cat does not have shame. She is only pretending to lull you into complacency.

She is not amused by my "mouse" jokes.

This is the Bucket of Satan's Cat. Do not put ANYTHING in the Bucket of Satan's Cat. Note the eyes...

I can't figure out how she's being evil in this one. Unless this much cuteness is evil. Which, with this cat, might be.

Not only is she being a BUTTHEAD by blocking the TV, but she's also trying to kill me with her lasers. 
Too bad her lasers are like Buzz Lightyear's laser. 


But Satan's Cat is trying to be helpful. But only if helpful means "a pain in the ass."

Satan's Cat is always watching. ALWAYS!

See what happens when people ruin my week? I end up looking like a crazy cat lady-- AND I DON'T EVEN OWN A CAT!

Please come back tomorrow. I'm not promising it will be better. I'm just begging to keep my readership.