Conversations with Cats

I am home during the week while my family is all either at work or school. Aside from my one evening and one day per week of volunteering, I haven't been up to much. Oh, I've gotten some things accomplished. I've done a little yard work, worked out everyday, managed a three day juice fast...in other words, yeah, not much.

Today, I found myself in the kitchen singing "Sweet Caroline" to one of my cats. It's a song I often sing to them, except I change the lyrics to "Sweet Kitty Cats". I'm pretty sure that I could beat out that annoying "Friday" girl if anyone every taped me. So, I'm singing and emptying a container of Popeye's Red Beans and Rice into a microwave - safe bowl when I drop said container.

I turned to my cat, who immediately started eating some rice and said "Why do I always drop things after I've cleaned the floor? And why are you trying to eat rice? Are you a Japanese cat? I hear cats in Japan eat rice all the time. I think that's pretty fucked up, but, whatever." She just looked at me and ran when I brought out the broom (as if I've ever beaten her with a broom!) and I was left pondering the mess and trying not to think about the possibility that there may be some lard in Popeye's Red Beans and Rice. If there is, I'm pretty sure I don't want to know about it, because Popeye's Red Beans and Rice is the Holy Grail of fast food for me; and as a loud mouthed vegan, it would make me look really bad if I was eating lard. For now, I am pleading ignorance, though I am pretty sure a few clicks of the mouse and I would have my answer.

Darned Google! And darn my inability to un-know things!!! Sigh... they are not vegan. Pork fat is in the ingredient list amongst some other not so unprocessed or healthy things. Goodbye, Popeyes!

I feel ill now.

Back to my crazy flow...

I recently deactivated my Facebook account. It was a long time coming and had to be done. There were several factors that led to me finally cutting the virtual life cord, not the least of which was that my gorgeous and wonderful husband deactivated his and I missed him. Then, I found myself saying so in my status and then airing some dirty laundry that if he HAD been on there would have royally pissed him off. I realized this after a moment or two and deleted my comment. But, I felt like Pandora's box had been opened already. It wasn't such a big deal, really. In fact, I'll say it here with no problem; it was just in that forum, it was inappropriate. But, all I said was that I missed him, but was kind of glad he had deactivated since so many old "friends" (female) had been showing up on there lately. I guess I was getting a bit jealous.

Scratch that, I was totally getting more than a bit jealous; not in a worried way, mind you. I wasn't in fear of my husband running off with some bimbo he had "befriended" in 1989. Actually, it made me remember some things that 18 years together had made blurry. That my husband is crazy hot, for one. That he had a life before me, for another. That one kind of stings. But seriously, he was 27 when we met. He had travelled around the world with the Marines and several bands by that time. But, I kind of conveniently forgot that there may have several dozen women in that "Before Me" picture.

And thank God there were! I mean, we would not be together today if he had been a 27 year old virgin. No. Not a chance. Half the reason I fell for him was because of certain abilities that I will say no more about... :) 'scuse me while I reel my brain back to the present... thank you.

Anyway, I was glad for the realization. I have a living, breathing, smoking hot husband! I need to spend time with him; not just virtually liking his virtual stuff!

Dogs, Laundry and What's Goin' On?

My Lily Girl with her buddy, Dr. Seuss. RIP, sweet girl!

I am trying to eat a giant plate of red potatoes, grilled portabella mushrooms, peas and a Cluckphrey patty covered in a delicious marinara sauce while I write. It's next to impossible.

Ok, done eating.

It was really good.

Down to business.

I worked last night (during what I hope to be the worst Bears' game of the season) and it was one of those nights. One of those nights where everyone who walked through the door was crazy. C R A Z Y.

I thought I was going to have to call the police at one point, fo' rizzle.

I spent forty-five minutes trying to avoid a screaming baby and his impossibly louder, crazy mother. I spent much of the night trying to love humanity instead of wishing for the fire or ice. I survived. Barely.

Yesterday, before work I watched a bit of Sunday football pregame. I stayed tuned in for a while, because they were interviewing Michael Vick. You remember him, right? Good quarterback; Bad person. He couldn't be happy living in a big house, playing a sport he loves for a living, making tons of money. Noooo. He had be all gansta and have a pitbull fighting ring housed right on his own million dollar property. He scores the most points in the "Stupid Idea" column.

I've never heard him say he is sorry for the dogs he killed and maimed. All I've ever heard is he's sorry for "things he did". What things? How about naming them? How about taking some ownership? Now he's a spokesperson for the ASPCA. Really? As much as I would like to think that he has changed in his heart and soul, I can't help but think his agent made him do it. That it is all for show. And it's sad.

I want to think that people can change. I know I want to believe it for myself.

This reminds me of the guy I saw walking down the street today. I was sitting at the light after dropping off the kids and there he was. He was wearing shorts and looked pretty ordinary, maybe a little disheveled, a little dirty, but, otherwise, pretty ordinary. What was not ordinary was the HUGE gash on his calf. I mean HUGE. It was at least six inches long and two inches wide and it looked deep. It looked like he had been surfing with Great White sharks. Um, bandage? Stiches? Something??? I was totally grossing out. I almost pulled over to ask if he was alright, it looked so bad. But, as I gazed at it (I couldn't take my eyes off of it!) I realized it had to be old. It wasn't bleeding or anything, it was just gruesome! Weird. What is going on with that?

Forgive my crazy brain as it bounces from one subject to the next like a pinball with less obvious direction...

I believe the act of doing laundry is not over until the clothes are IN THE DRAWERS. Someone very close to me, who shall remain nameless, does lots of laundry up until this point and then assumes that it magically appears in the correct drawers later on. This person is really smart in almost every other way. How folded clothes actually get into the drawers continues to elude him, however.

Have a nice day!