What The Hell IS Snicker™ Salad?

Of the definitions I found for salad this one fills the bill, a usually incongruous mixture: hodgepodge for Snicker™ Salad, most. When I first heard mention of the concoction in question I had a similar reaction, WTH?

But yes, there is such a thing as Snicker ™ Salad and from my recent (and very brief) research this salad would be of the dessert variety, of course. Also, from my research there are a number of variations most including some combination of vanilla pudding, apples, grapes, Cool Whip&0153; and Snicker&0153; bars broken into bite size pieces.

Some folks nix the Cool Whip&0153: and some, the pudding but the basic premis is the same. What the hell is a Snicker™ Salad? It is basically a fruit salad with a pudding-(like) base, and a Snicker™ kicker and is quite simply, divine.

I shall resist making my own batch for as long as I possibly can, which probably won't be very long at all.

Ho Ho Hum

Well, to answer tiff's query the work get together was, well, here is part of what newest recruit said, "The people we work with are . . . unique. I'll leave it at that." And I'll leave it there too except to say, thanks to newest recruit a good amount of food was good. Beyond good. I will be singing the praises of (her version) of Snicker Salad for the rest of my singing days.

Yum. Yum. Yum. Yum. Yum. Yum. Yum. Yum. Yum. Yum. Yum. Yum.

Otherwise the season is a mix of ho ho and ho-hum. Sometimes I'm up and sometimes down. And it seems like I'm not the only one. A few others have mentioned, "not being in the spirit" of the days. I look around my neighborhood and with only a few days before that big day, many houses (and apartments) are dark, unadorned. Fa La Blah.

Still, Cherish and Snow Dude are doing their level best to infuse some Happy Holiday spirit in my partly humbug mind. Thanks to them and the sparkly fake snowflakes and our little family's history as told by keepsake ornaments on the tree that finally did make it out of storage, even if it does have to fight for a place of honor in an overcrowded dining room, I just might get there. Pete is very curious.

The Week That Was

This week that is nearly done has been in a word, odd. I'm not quite sure I can adequately encapsulate the oddity that was this week nearly done but I can say that I believe the oddness began with a book club meeting last Saturday where the one (other) participant who came to the meet failed to finish the book. Me? Oh, I was only up until 3 in the morning finishing and making my notes for the over-due library book.

Onward to the rain and being out in it much of the rest of Saturday led to not getting the tree and other decorations out of storage as I meant to do. After waffling back and forth about whether or not to have the tree (and other decorations) I finally decided, yes, I would, only now to be down to . . . well, Saturday at the earliest the chosen square of space can be bedecked. One week. Well, actually two as it will be up at least until NYD. Well, that is, if happens at all.

I am of the opinion that the largest contributing factor to the oddness of this week however, is the missing CTA CSA. The CSA normally manning the station where I begin my daily commute to work is sugary sweet cheerful in the mornings with her, "Good Morning, Precious!" to each and every customer / passenger. I will admit, some mornings sing-song chirpiness bordered on annoyance, I realized this week not only did I miss the routine, chirpy and all, I'd also come to rely on it lifting me ever so . . .

This week nearly done has one more work day that will be sliced in half by our annual holiday, "whatever the hell you wanna call it" get-together. It is a pot-(you might get lucky and get something you like or can eat) gathering. This will be the first gathering of the trio of companies. It shall be in a word, interesting if not, odd.

Just Some Thoughts

I'm trying, really, I am. Or not. But, I am, a little. The dating. On-Line. Yes, I'm trying. Still. Kinda. Sorta. Really, I don't want to date (I don't think) so much as to meet someone or a couple of someones to "hang out" with, after some time conversing, of course. But, I can't seem to get past the profiles. And pictures. Of dogs. No, not figuratively. I mean literally, pictures of dogs. As the profile pic. To meet . . . people. I think.


Anyhoo. . . . speaking of dogs, to be specific, hot dogs. I don't eat hot dogs all that often. But, now and again a good Chicago Style Dog is just the ticket. And since a new place opened in the neighborhood AND there was a coupon, well, no time like the present.

The new sandwich place (that of the arm waving man dressed like a hot dog) features beef, pork, turkey, and chicken products serves something called a Chicago Style Pretzel Dog. Which is just a hot dog with the classic toppings (tomatoes, onions, relish, mustard, sport peppers, celery salt, and pickles) on a pretzel roll (which takes it out of the Chicago Style realm, as that roll is poppy seed). Intriguing if you're in to that sort of thing, which I am, from time to time and the time was today.

Whatever hopes I had were dashed as soon as I discovered:
1. it wasn't a footlong hot dog sandwiched between all that bread, but two regular sized dogs fighting for space among the gigantic tomato wedges and other toppings.
2. it was slathered with mustard. Now, I like mustard on my dogs but there was GOMPERS of mustard on this thing!
3. the worst technical error in the history of hot dog serving technical errors. The damn dog(s) were C-O-L-D.

Now, I'll forgive that they don't seem to have a grill or a proper steamer (they should get out of the hot dog biz immediately if they don't intend to acquire one or the other, or BOTH) but to pull these limp tubes of meat product out of a vat of c-o-l-d water is just w-r-o-n-g! Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Unfortunately, I didn't know the water (& the dogs) were cold until I got home, taken off shoes, one of the two pairs of socks, pants, and 3 of the 4 top layers. So no, there was no going back out.

I did taste the sandwich I picked up for D (an Italian Beef--except with turkey) dipped, and topped with peppers and it was ok. I don't think I'll be replacing my fave Italian beef with this turkey version, but it wasn't bad. It was hot which was a major plus over the dogs.

The fries were good. Not great, but ok. And the toppings were fresh.

I have to give the new sandwich place a C for the first round. It may be awhile before round two (if they last that long). When or If, I definitely won't be ordering a hot dog.

Now, must go watch O*rah talk it out with B. Walt*rs.

Six Hundred and Ninety Eighty-One (Sheesh)

'Tis the post where I admit, I sat on the cat. He wasn't wearing a hat, which is perhaps how I missed he was in the chair upon which I sat.

That, and it is still frickin cold, but that isn't worthy of poetry or prose. 'Tis December. Chicago. 'Nuff said.

In other news, some reviews were released for M's most recent play. He doesn't read them but can't totally escape them. I might not have sought them out except I was very curious given all he'd relayed during pre-production. It's been UP now for over a week (when you factor in previews) and I saw the third of three "preview" performances. And of the few reviews I've found and read, I agree to some degree. And all bias aside, I agree that M's performance is "intense"*, "wound tight perfection"* and "expertly volatile"*.

The run is just through the end of the year (well, actually January 2nd) and I'm hoping for another opportunity to see it. It really is a good play.

*Didn't link to the reviews as I think they give too much of the plot away and I wouldn't want to spoil it for anyone who might be in the position to see if--presuming, of course, you're not already familiar with the play, "Lobby Hero".

Nearly Winter Weekend

We had snow overnight Friday to Saturday. By the afternoon most of the major streets were clear. Many of the sidewalks were still fairly treacherous.

I cleared our walk before I went on my excursion around town, but as it was still snowing I had to clear again before the day was done.

As I understand it, hot dog man dances. However, when I saw him he was just waving his arms, point toward the "dog" stand he was out there to promote.

Some trees drooping under the weight.

Can you find the ornaments in this tree?

It looks like we got about three inches of snow. The larger story though is the cold. Temps dipped down to 10 / 11 (maybe lower) degrees at some point. I don't think it has gotten out of the twenties over the past couple of days. I'm not really interested in the details because really, when it is this cold it matters not, 25, 20, or 15. Well, that is until it is below zero. And here's hoping those days are quite a ways away.

Nine To Five

On this date four years ago, I wrote

about momentous events and among them, my 27th anniversary with 'the company' and now here I am trumpeting number thirty-one.

A lifetime. I've been with the company longer than I was married. Longer than I've been a parent. My longest running relationship.

Not sure how that sits with me today. Sure, I'm happy (thrilled, in this climate) to be gainfully employed and overjoyed to have provided for my son, daughter, and to some degree, my mother over the years. Maintaining is as vital as it ever was. I am grateful to be minus the job search stress, unemployment benefits stress, and threats to hearth and home stress.

The work I do is interesting, challenging, and sometimes even fun. The people I work with are interesting, challenging, and some of them, even fun. As much as I might sigh, I like it. Sometimes, even more than that.

Still, I've begun to feel anxious, restless . . . something, less. It could have as much to do with the company's struggles during the economic downturn and how that has impacted the day-to-day as my own feeling like I'm missing something angst.

Ahhh, I don't know. Could be it is too cold right now. Could be I have a headache right now. Hell, could be I inhaled too many permanent marker fumes today.

What I do know is that part of what was true then, remains true today, a plan, marvel of fluid necessity, continues to drive me . . . " The difference is the plan is expanding beyond the confines of the work and the company.

Or, it should.

Lez Get Serious

Don't know if Jessica and Jennifer are a new couple, an old couple, or and unrequited couple but it made me smile to receive this declaration on my dollar bill change. I hope they are happy, forever and ever and ever.

And in keeping with the theme, my daughter noticed I brought home a parcel today and in her usual inquisitive fashion (especially around the 'daze) she asks, "what's in the box?" I say simply, "just something I ordered. It isn't for you." To which she replies, "oh, I bet it's some super dyke Underoos™!"

She mused aloud about what (or who?) said character would look like?

She then struck a pose to illustrate the awesomeness of "super heroine dyke" which I cannot even possibly describe.

Needless to say it made me more than smile, it made me spiggle.

The Cats, The Dog, and The Text

It is another Tuesday, this one marking the end of another month another ahhhh November. November is a month full of the frenzy of clearing out after Halloween if that is your thing and getting ready for "the holidays." Not just Thanksgiving, or even primarily Thanksgiving but the BiG one.

The first day of winter.

Ok no, not that. The other big one.

Well, actually December is full of big celebratory days, events, and observances. BiG Talk about frenzy.

But, for now as November ebbs away I take this moment to delight in arriving home to find one cat in the dog's bed, the other cat in my bed, and the dog in a cat bed. And about a text message from my daughter:

Man, Michael was super stoked when I explained to him that there was more Thanksgiving in the freezer. hahahahahaha I could use some stuffin.

Today and everyday thankful for the gift of life they all bring to my life.

The Best Thing

. . . about the first work day following a four day holiday weekend is coming home to a full on quiet space. Only the sound of rain smattering the windows, the wind rattling the wood panes (in the back) and diva dog's intermittent barking stemming from occasional ghost sightings (must be ghosts as I sure don't see what has her all riled up) pierces the quiet.

Pete has draped himself across the cable box in my bedroom, Buttah is flat on his back, legs akimbo atop my bed, and Diamond, now all done with the ghost chasing is munching on a piece of carrot. The relative peacefulness won't last too much longer, however, I am thankful for it here and now.

I shall go embrace and see to packing some of that peaceful spirit in my knapsack to aid with the Tuesday work-a-day noises.

Peace.

Another Friday Saturday Night

One extra big bonus to holiday weekends is the extra day. On this, my second Saturday was an easy, slow going kind of day. The air was the cold but the skies were clear. There was some outside time (after a laze about morning with the sometimes pesky, sometimes lovable Orange Boy) with the Diva aka Diamond. She had to change out of her holiday dress for the outdoors for she has either lost a lot of weight or the dress is just ill fitting without all her hair. I have my money on the latter. In either case she suffered wore the outfit with the grace befitting her diva-hood.

It is another Saturday night and my downstairs neighbor has been out drinking. He's home now, fighting with his front door, upsetting the Diva. She'd like to skip downstairs and give him a piece of her mind for keeping up all that racket. I'm sure. He'll settle down in a bit. As will she. And then we'll pop some corn, pop a disc in the DVD player, and ease our way into another Sunday morning.

Thankful for blue skies, bonus days, popcorn, the Diva dog, and "The Wizard of Oz".

"Begone before someone drops a house on you."

Well, Now

Everything was humming along just fine, according to plan. The greens were done and so too was the dressing. The ham had only minutes to go, the turkey much longer. D was beginning prep for her cupcakes and spinach artichoke dip. I was beginning the prep for the macaroni and cheese and thinking about how to serve, where to stage.

Something felt off. Something was off . . . the oven. Oh, damn.

Trying to get the beast working for the next hour or so, thoughts ranging from schlepping the turkey to mom's (who isn't answering her phone) to finish roasting or scratching turkey from the menu and making due with what is done or can be completed on the stove top and many more in between ran through my mind.

Thanks the luck of the Irish the oven worked (enough) to get everything done. And according to all diners it was all good.

Thanksgiving 2010 will be remembered as the one when grandma arrived on time (unaware of the oven debacle as it will forever be called) as she wasn't home when I called and hadn't gone home prior to arriving promptly at the previously planned 2 p.m. start time. We will recall going to the Amana website, looking for a manual for our aged stove/oven calling an 800 number in hopes of getting a miracle answer to what daughter describes as, "her worst nightmare." We will recount the giddiness felt when the familiar "whoosh" signaled, "all systems go" even if brief. We hoped for the best, prepared for something less.

It all worked out. The oven is, for the most part, kaput. But, dinner is done, we all had fun and now there is wine, rest, and a bit later, sweet potato pie with whipped cream, sprinkled with a bit of cinnamon.

I am thankful for my daughter's laughter, her boyfriend's presence, my son's healthy appetite, my mother's critical jabs (for really? they make me stronger--and she doesn't mean me any harm, it is just her way), being a lucky Irish woman on this day and many more. And while I am extremely thankful for the bounty that was our meal table, I would have been just as thankful peanut butter and jelly so long as I was surrounded the loves of my life.

'Twas the Night Before . . .

All day long and now into the night memories have popped into my head, stories out of my mouth. The kids got into the spirit and began sharing tales of days gone by as well as notable moments from today.

And so on this day (every day, really) with the aromas of part of tomorrow's dinner wafting through our space, I am thankful for memories and for the joyous times I've had with my son and daughter.

I am ever grateful that they are here and we are lucky to spend another day, eating, talking, and laughing together.

Here's to making more memories.

Happy Thanksgiving to one and all.

Longest Tuesday

Since I can never remember which channel Comc*st / Xf*nity has assigned to The Weather one of my first early morning rituals is to grab my phone (device, whatever) and check the weather; cloudy, sunny, or any part thereof, and the temperature.

Monday morning? 60. THIS morning? 30.

And shortly afterward, Pete sneezed three times.

Then the day was full of the usual workday routines, frustrations, and more but many moments plodded like an interminable clog. It's the short week syndrome. It's like having two Mondays. Oh. The. Horror.

I know you're asking, "Well then, Miss Deborah, what the blazes are you thankful for today?"

Well today it is chocolate. Today was a two chocolate bar day, thankyouverymuch.

And later, beer. THANKyouverymuch.

And since this IS a short week, Wednesday is Friday!! Which,thanks to good advice and great musical inspiration, I know now, how to act.

Monday, Monday

Hard pressed to find something to be thankful about today, well, except for the whole being alive thing. And for my son, daughter, mom (and other family) and pets. And . . . ok, not so hard pressed.

But, it was a difficult day made more so by the rain. Oh. The. Rain.

However, thankfully, (so far) my area has escaped the worst of it and though my feet, ankles, shins, knees (and the fabric covering them) were soaked through and through, I was nearly home when the squishing began in earnest.

Now I am dry, re-dressed in warm lounge-wear. I am about to devour a steaming bowl of chicken and rice soup. And later I will pop some corn and hunker down to a warm, peaceful rest of the night.

Many thanks.

Cornucopia of Thanks

Thankful . . .

• for a sunshiny day.
• for mom's gracious gift of food (and most importantly, shopping)
• for daughter's breakfast treat.
• for comfy shoes.
• for that crazy cat.
• for bullet points.
• for being closer rather than farther from home when a nail flattened the bike's rear tire.

. . . to be continued. . .

Too Easy

. . . to be thankful for Friday. It's Friday, for cripes sake! But truth be told these last several Fridays have been somewhat blah. Well, not that the Fridays have been blah. It is more that I've been blah about the Fridays.

The Fridays were doing their level best to stir my interest but, very little interest was to be had. Fridays were nothing more than a beacon, signaling the end of a long week and the all too short respite before the next long week begins.

I came dangerously close to dreading Fridays.

Then a friend and email titled, "It's Friday So Act Like It Dammit!" and so I did. And so I am.

I am oh so thankful for this day, Friday. And oh so very thankful for friends in general and that friend in particlar.

Wednesday Thursday Thanks

Orange boy vomited on my bed today and while that doesn't play as a thankful item, I am thankful that 1. daughter was home and 2. was thoughtful enough to remove the soiled sheets.


And given that Wednesday was somehow skipped over, I am doubly thankful that I completed winterizing mom's apartment before the days and nights became too much colder.

Thanks On A Tuesday

'tis all quiet except for the occasional tingle of Buttah's collar and he saunters and then leaps to his bowl, the click clack of Diamond's nails as she scampers across the living room chasing her well worn soccer ball toy, and Pete's mews as the tries to rescue the map hanging by my desk from the frame that houses it.

Thankful for the quiet and relative peacefulness of the scenes.

Today, I Am Thankful

. . . my associate's safe return and getting back into the ease of all things routine.

And laughter.

Giving Thanks

for e.
Hot dogs are not in my top ten (or even 20) but now and again I get a hankering. Said, hankering calls for a Chicago style dog, celery salt, poppyseed bun, and sport peppers included. Though, I can do without the putrid green relish. Icky-poo. Hi-ever, add some kick-ass fries and aaahhh hankering satisfied, till the next time.

Onward to the giving thanks moment: I am thankful for the raffle that netted me a gift card to a hipster coffee / sandwich shop, where I scored a roast beef on rye, mustard, tomato, pepper jack cheese, cucumber, and a side of blue cheese potato salad. Lunch was lip smacking, mood altering, delish.

Month of Giving Thanks

Mom has given us (me, son, and daughter) our Thanksgiving cards. She handed them to me last weekend while I was at her place, winterizing. She asked me to hold on to them. I asked why? And she replied, "because it is so early."

Well, without going into the back and forth we had over this, let me just say, I didn't hold on to the cards. I gave them theirs, opened mine.

And in the spirit of giving thanks, often (if not daily) this (if not every) month, without further delay:

1. I am thankful for my mother. 2. I am thankful for words. 3. I am thankful for a warm snap. 4. I am thankful for the two cats trading spaces on my bed. 5. I am thankful the dog requires assistance to get on the bed. 6. I am thankful for sport peppers. 7. I am thankful for crayons. 8. And speaking of mothers . . .yeah, thankful. 9. I am thankful for my BP thingy.
10. I am thankful for cocoa butter 11. I am thankful for and give thanks to the men and women who served honorably, admirably.

And as it will soon be the twelve day of this month, 12: thanks to my adult children My daughter went shopping and while she didn't get milk, she did get bananas. My son rocked his audition and was feeling excellent on his way to dinner, then rehearsal. He called to share his glee. Thanks, y'all are the best!

. . . to be continued.

Where'd Tuesday Go?

You are hereby summoned: Jury Duty.

The summons was for stand-by, which meant calling after 4:30 p.m. the day before to learn IF I had to trek nearly 16 miles to the county courthouse near Chicago's "North Shore".

The recorded message said, "if your last name begins with B as in Bravo through and including Z as in Zulu, you must appear." And so, I had to prepare myself for the trek. The public transpo website provided several public transpo options. All those available to me meant and hour and forty-five minutes travel time.

Thanks to several road construction zones, the commute actually took two hours and thirty minutes. Lovely.

Six hours after clearing security and checking in, I was released with the thanks of the court and a check for my time and trouble, $17.20. We, the prospective jurors were told that four trials were scheduled; two criminal, two civil. All four cases settled without the need for a jury.

The return commute home was shaved by only 30 minutes.

Worn out, I ate. Slept. Which of course meant that I was awake at 2 a.m. listening to (if not sneaking a peak at) "Jaws" on television.

A Tuesday lost. A weary Wednesday.

. . . to help out thEBalzie, the actor is currently in rehearsal for "Lobby Hero", he is playing William. And speaking of, he just closed a run of a Stoppard play and begins rehearsals for the next, August Wilson's "Radio Golf" days after "Lobby Hero" closes. In between, he's auditioning, auditioning, and auditioning.

To Satisfy the Curious

1. Cookies: most any kind will do. Of late, chunky chocolate chip and white chocolate, macadamia nut. Yum

2. Fried pie: generic, mass produced, apple.

3. The actor's epiphany had to do with current role. He struggled with how to play his character's opening scene. Walking home from rehearsal the other night--inspiration (epiphany) struck. He talked it out, worked it out, played it out for for audience of one (me) and is satisfied with result.

Word is, director is pleased with the current path.

Being witness to him working out, working on his various characters is almost as much fun as watching the entire production.

Downside is: now super anxious to see the end result.

OTB(s)*

1. My brain is fried.

2. I had a bite of fried pie today. The first in many, many years.

3. I know why I've stayed away from fried pies.

4. Hi-ever, the taste of fried pie triggers: cookies.

5. Except there aren't any cookies.

6. That's probably a good thing.

7. The actor is home and he's had an epiphany.

8. He's fun.

9. As is the pup as she tosses her soccer ball to herself.

10. Did someone say something about cookies?

*observational tidbits

ten thirty twenty-ten

In addition to the written test (twenty questions and fifteen signs) there was the vision screening. I was next to an applicant who had the following exchange with a state clerk facilitating vision screening:

a: G H B . . .

sc: try again, that isn't a G

a: G . .

sc: try again, not a G

a: G

sc: no ma'am, not a G try again

(a's aide, grand-daughter repeats: not a G)

a: G

sc: no ma'am

I don't hear the next exchange as I'm having my own vision screened and focusing on my letters, not a G in the bunch.

a: I SEE A G!

sc: ma'am I'm sorry, that isn't a G

a: Then what IS it?

sc: It is a C ma'am.

a: Well hell, it looks like a G.

She didn't pass her screening but another on the other side of me did with a message from his screener, schedule an appointment with an eye doctor, soon!

Yikes.

Anyhoo, aced the signs, flubbed on two questions having to do with teen driving regs and the like. The best part of the morning (well, other than getting the license) was the invigorating walk to and mostly from the facility, about two miles from my where I live.

Near future being relative, the task is done, off the list, good to go for four more years.

Four Years Ago

Spoons. Four years ago there was a brief mention of disappearing spoons. I am happy to report that the spoons didn't keep disappearing. The household wasn't rendered slowly but surely, totally spoon less.

Now, however the issue is forks. Forks are walking away (not with the spoons, the spoons are staying put) at a slow and steady pace. But oddly enough, not all the forks, only the smaller forks, what I like to call, my favorite forks.

As of today all but one (well, two since I keep a fork at work) has gone away. Though perplexed by these disappearing acts I'm not dwelling on the how or why. My focus is spot-on keeping that final fork by my side.

Or under lock and key.

Or . . . something

On The Bubble

I had high hopes for "The Whole Truth" mostly because I'm crazy wild over Maura Tierney and it is a law and order type show, my preferred televised genre.

It appears that "The Whole Truth" and several others are on the bubble. I don't have a vested interest in any of the other shows, but I did want Maura's to survive. But, I must admit after seeing 3 episodes I can see why viewers aren't streaming to this show. The point-counter point (kinda like flashbacks--which I despise) style is tedious and annoying.

The tedious back and forth though, is minor compared to the stiff and lifeless performances by everyone except Maura.

All the above being said, I'd like to thank ABC and the viewing public for doing their parts toward my weaning process.

Sunflower Power

Diamond is begging, bouncing on her hind legs, for my peanut butter (chunky) and pineapple preserves on a very nutty bread, sandwich.

Pete is splayed in the middle of my bed and will become all harumpfy when go back to retire for the night.

Buttah is right here on the desk, helping me tyyype. As you might imagine he isn't much help. But, he insists on being part of the process, whatever process that is in process at an given moment.

Otherwise, all is quiet.

Well, except for the rat-a-tat going on inside my head. Beyond the work yada x3, and home yada x3, there is this: I miss . . . everything.

Oh, What A Night

. . . or, "how to throw a wrench into a quiet night."

1. Your mom (and her crew) deliver a new (free) refrigerator 30 minutes early, freaking out the furries (well, except people friendly Buttah).

2. Due to the early arrival no chance to clear a place, prep the area which results in chaos (and other people IN my kitchen and old fridge)

3. Spending the bulk of the evening shifting 2 refrigerators; 1 out of place and the other, in.

4. Time not spent shifting the refrigerators was wiping, shelf building, sorting, storing, clearing, wiping, dumping, washing, and then finally preparing dinner, all of which delayed . . .

5. the nice, quiet, dinner followed by shower, rest, and relaxation by over two hours.

Hi-ever, on the upside there is a new (well, new to me) refrigerator with interior lights and zero leakage, in place. Thank you mom (& crew).

:::this is me, NOT making plans for Tuesday:::

Most Mornings

Most mornings I have myself together enough to walk (or ride the bike) the five or so blocks to the train going in to work.

Most mornings I prefer the walk over the riding as the walk affords the opportunity to gaze at the splendor of the trees.

This time of year most of the trees still have their leaves and most are still green. But there are a few that sport leaves in various stages of greens, yellows, and oranges.

Most mornings (of late) have been sun shiny bright and when that light shines on the multiple colored trees many more hues appear . . . splendiferous!

Most mornings while soaking in the splendor of the trees, many thoughts like a co-worker becoming a friend, a daughter's recovery, a son's excitement over current and future projects, and more cross my mind.

What I try to avoid thinking about is how few of these crisp, bright, splendiferous mornings we have left.

Most mornings I succeed.

Through The Years

Shoes to fasten, hands to hold. A fierce little girl who was rarely quiet, quite often bold. A fierce little girl who was rarely quiet, quite often bold.

Arms and heart wide open truth be told.

Has become a young woman, lo and behold!

My darling daughter celebrated birthday number twenty-five, October 11th. And while this hasn't been a stellar year for her (us) she (we) are forging on. As some wise person said, "every difficulty is opportunity is disguise." Cheers and here's to the next twenty-five.

In addition to being HER special day, October 11th is also National Coming Out day and as she was my first tell, the day is doubly special for me, us. She is a great supporter and enthusiastic cheerleader. I love her for that and so much more.

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

PeTe's Photoshoot

This array is for my friend (who is NOT a cat person) who also is of the opinion that Pete is a pretty cat. We were at D and D's are of a similar opinion. The two boys couldn't be more different, though as noted previously, get along famously. Mike (also not a cat person) tends to favor Pete over Buttah because Pete is more of a loner.

Just tonight he said about Pete, "attitude, dripping . . . like vinegar." Pete does have a way of fixing that glare at you especially when he feels the human has said or done something . . . unflattering. Which, I suppose, judging by the frequency of his attitude stares, is often.

My last call before leaving work this evening was from Dani and the last thing she said, "talk to your cat when you get home." I don't know what he'd gotten himself into during the day home with her. He was a bit more skittered and oh so . . . present this evening. Pete the loner, has been following me around and planting himself where ever I sit.

And Buttah (or rather, Garfield so dubbed by Mike) is just being Buttah.

The Boys were in rare form this evening.

psssst... OBG entry UP. OuT

Orange Boy Rules

Yes, another tale of the orange boy. The chill(ing) pic is old. You may recall, the simpatico note...Buttah sitting on top of daughter's A/C unit (which yes, IS but soooo should not be ON the DR table). She took it out of her window when the nighttime temps dipped to the upper 40s recently.

I'll be re-locating the unit to the winter time storage space as it must be lifted overhead and placed on an upper shelf of the pantry, as soon as I re-locate the orange boy.

After Dinner Thought

It was gently suggested that I might but casting blame at Buttah where none was due, that he might be taking the rap for one or both of his furry companions.

Granted, I didn't witness Buttah breaking the teapot, but all the gathered evidence, circumstantial it may be, points to the orange boy. His reputation precedes him.

Still, that isn't to suggest that the grey / brown boy is by any means sans issues. He has issues up the whazoooo. We are currently battling over his scratching the baseboards, forays atop the kitchen counter as well as and refrigerator. Yes, orange boy is up there too but were it not for Pete, Buttah would not have ventured. Probably.

However, all things considered, they are a wonderful pair of felines and partnered with the poop eatin' diva dog a fantabulous trio. They are a welcome sight after long hard days that, that, well make me wanna . . .

We have the place to ourselves now and for the next several hours. And while this might be prime time to address some of the respective issues, no can do. I will be joining them in the one activity they each have down to an artform and for which there aren't any qualms: relaxing.

To echo the sentiments of one of my former co-workers, "Happy Friday!"

Who Did It?!?

It is a small, ceramic, green teapot. It once posed decoratively on the lowest of a three shelf book and/or knick-knack shelving unit. It is now in two pieces. Well, technically three, the two base pieces held together by the bamboo handle.

It can be repaired. Hot glue should do.

Once repaired it will nestle snugly in my daughter's moving (eventually) box where some of other precious breakables live.

Who did IT? Rhetorical. We all know Buttah did IT. It is what he does. But then, it isn't really his fault. He is clumsy and I know that.

And I think he enjoys watching things fall and crash. I see him push and shove objects around until they fall to the floor. Nearly immediately upon impact he peers around with those iridescent eyes, satisfaction radiating from his whiskers.

He saunters away to nibble some kibble. Once sated, he returns, yowling to be held, cradled like a baby. It is what he does.

And I know this.

Confounded

Peter, my brown tabby is joining me for coffee this morning. It has been awhile since he has hung out with me here at the computer, that is usually Buttah's domain. But, this morning, it's Peter, or rather, Pete. I really only call him Peter when I'm upset frustrated with his antics.

I feel for him though. Several times a day (judging by what I witness most evenings and over the weekend) he has to fend off not only Buttah's playful jousting but Diamond's attentions as well. Have you ever seen a dog hump a cat? From the side? Hardeharharhar funny stuff. He submits for all of 15 seconds before he leaps out of her grasp. She licks her bearded chops as though to say, "another time my pretty, another time."

But, the antics of my nutty, (apparently horny, at least in Diamond's case, though I'm convinced Buttah has a love jones for Pete, yes in that way) furry babies is not the topic today. No, the topic today is the monthly visitor. Well, not monthly anymore but certainly still visiting, at least this month. One moment while I, aaarrrrrrrgggggggahhhh!

Ok.

Now, the odd, unfinished, barely formed dreams make sense. Well, not the dreams but the fact of the dreams. See, I hardly dream. Or rather, I hardly ever remember (any parts) of my dreams. But recently there was the dream that started with my daughter in one of my old childhood homes that ending with me and a stranger (guy) dancing. The other night I dreamt that I was being forced to wear high heeled shoes. Ugly, high heeled shoes. Last night's dream had my daughter becoming my mother, my son became my father, and the animals became my in-laws. We were sitting down to a meal and arguing about papayas.

What confounds me about the visitor "Auntie Flo" especially in this stage (since my early to mid forties) of life aside from never knowing when or even that it will arrive is that every pre-arrival is different. Sometimes it is insomnia. Others, I crave salty food. And still others, I crave sweets, especially chocolate. Sometimes all of those conditions barrel in on me at once. This time it is the dreams. And while I linked my recent (and current) eczema flare-up to the stress over the job situation and concern over family and friends, I wonder if there is a tie-in to the visitor.

Anyhoo...I'll deal. The one positive about the most recent visits, well, actually, there are two positives: 1. they are infrequent (at least this past year) and 2. they don't last long (at least this past year). I do so hope the 10 plus day cycles are all ovah!

But, even more confounding that the visits, the pre-visit symptoms, and all the rest . . . even more confounding is why in the blue blazes is the Diva Dog eating the cat's poop?

Will have to tackle that another day. Now, I shall finish the coffee and sneak away quietly as Pete, Diamond, and Buttah are enjoying an after breakfast nap. Nap one of two hundred, the most important nap of the day.

R*A*I*N**

During Saturday morning errands the bike and me got caught in the rain. Not, mind you, a light summer rain, but sheets of rain. And thunder. And lightning.

I don't like riding in the rain, but especially don't like riding in flash flood type rains. So, I took cover under the massive awning of a massive gas station. I stepped inside the mini-mart to to purchase some tissues to use for wiping off my glasses and blowing my nose hoping the cold I was working out of my system wouldn't find a way back in.

While waiting out the torrential rain, songs began to flood my mind.

Songs about rain.

I made it home without getting too damp but damp enough to shed the clothes, jump in the shower, take a dose of cold and allergy (for the eczema) meds and lie myself down, forgetting about the rain and the songs.

Until today, when walking home from the train I got caught in the rain. And the songs came pouring back into my mind.

Over The Rainbow with a . . . Twist bled into Bring On The Rain followed by Can You Stop the Rain which naturally led me to query Who'll Stop The Rain.

A couple of claps of thunder later and I couldn't stop thinking of Singing In The Rain from falling, falling . . . Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head.

Shaking that tune loose opened the gates to simply, Rain, Fire and Rain, Mandolin Rain, and Purple Rain. The lightning dancing across the sky put me in the mind of a Rainy Night in Georgia leaking into She's My Kind of Rain, which makes me weep (still, a bit) as does, I Wish It Would Rain, every time I hear it.

The rains did let up enough to continue on with the chores but on the way home there was reason to exclaim, Here Comes The Rain Again .

And finally, Don't Rain On My Parade. These are not necessarily my favorite rain themed songs but are the floating mostly freely about my being. Well, that said, I guess, in one way or another, they are favored.

Feel free to share your rainy day songs.

And oh, since wer'e talking about rain check out Perpetuum Jazzile simulating rain--and singing. (another eb find, natch)

**homage to blogger friend--she knows. :-)
***And to Miss "I'm not a damn poodle!" here's to having lunch without an audience. :-)

A Dream (partial)

This has not been one of my better weeks. Between the stress of the work situation, the cold I try to rationalize away, and the eczema flare-up (my neck is raw--aaarrgggh) lopped atop my already wonky sleep pattern, well, let's just say, tired, cranky, somewhat un-focused has been the order of the days.

Additionally, there have been dreams. Or rather, snippets of dreams. Or more accurately, I'm only remembering the snippets of some of the dreams. As in:

My daughter was nine or ten and apparently, my only child. We were living in a house that looked very much like the rental my family lived at one point during my own childhood.

It was a sunny day, and daughter yelled that she was going outside to play and taking her bike. I heard her struggle to pull the bike from a front closet, and then the screen door slam shut. Making my way to the front to latch the door, annoyed by the sight of her toddler bike sitting in the middle of the hall--a constant reminder that she's older and that bike should be given away, as it is taking up room we don't have--I hear noises on the porch.

Curious, but a bit alarmed, I rush to latch the screen door. The man with two small children, gender indeterminate, appear to be deciding who should knock--when they realize, as one, that knocking isn't necessary.

Addressing the man, I ask, "may I help you?" He begins to talk while at the same time, reaching for the door. Though re-latched, he begins to pull on the door. I ask them all to please leave my porch. The children sit down while the man continues to pull on the door. I know it will give soon, so I yell, "PLEASE LEAVE or I'll call the police", as I move to close the wooden door.

In the next moment, the man was inside the house pleading, "please, let's just have some fun." The children remained seated on the porch. I ask the man again to please leave. He responded to my request by beginning to dance. Well, not dancing so much as . . . performing, or rather, exercising.

Ala, Hip-Hop Abs.

Then, I'm awake with a cat (the orange one) on my chest.

The Worst

Coughing, that is the worst. You're on the train and the fit comes over you. Best not to try to suppress, for that only makes matters worse. You hack and wheeze up a lung. Some riders try to ignore you, others stare daggers at you as though you are deliberately trying to make them sick, while still others, offer you a cough drop.

Or ten.

Coughing, that is the worst.

Or no, worst than coughing is the sneak attack sneeze. That sneeze that results in a big wad of snot shooting out your nose, and dangling down over your lips, chin. All before you were able to grab a tissue from the pack . . . you left on your desk.

Damn.

Bite Me, No...Wait.

The story alluded to in the earlier post isn't written. It may be written at some point, but can't be written now.

There was a beginning, or rather, the workings of a beginning but it hasn't gone much further. Yet.

And perhaps it won't. Like I said before, I can't think. I'm not drinking today, but still, I can't think. That is to say that I'm having trouble thinking beyond the here and now. And what is here and now is work. jobs. sales. finances. and yes, eating. drinking. and too, having the where-with-all to be some kind of merry. Not to mention the where-with-all to maintain hearth and home.

For the moment, a personal impending crisis been averted. I can't go further than that because it feels . . .well, I'm still somewhat . . . wow. Still, as distressing as the prospective news was, it wasn't devastating. It could have been worse. And it may be at some point, but for now, I'm breathing a tad bit easier today than I was the other.

In other news, I haven't had any potato chips in since just before I turned fifty. Oh sure, that may not big news to you, but to me? It's gi-norm-us.


*click the pic h/t

Six Hundred and Forty Six

As far as actual posts it is six hundred and forty five, but I have a draft pending, which may in fact, be deleted because I'm having a bit of difficulty framing the thoughts---it's a story, from a photo prompt. I may scrap it because, I'm having difficulty framing the thoughts.

The thoughts that continue to circle my mind are mired in devastation--and various folks reaction to same. And I suppose I can frame my story around the thoughts that are circling my mind, but I don't want to--well, I do, but I don't.

I know, I'm not making any sense. You see, I've been drinking. I haven't had a drink all week, until today and today I've had three. Well, two and two-thirds.

The story could be up-lifting, but I'm not feeling at all up-lifted at the moment. So, best to table the story, for now. But, like I typed previously, I may scrap it altogether.

An old acquaintance, dare I say friend (though, until recently we hadn't spoken or seen one another for many, many years) was curious about my transition from straight to gay--you see, she knew me when . .

I linked to a couple of my previous posts on the topic. Re-reading her email I find I'm intrigued by the wording . . .transition which, if I were more sober I could elaborate. But, I'm not. And so, I can't.

A neighbor is playing a piano concerto (recording) over and over. It was irritating the first 50 times, now I realize it is drowning out the diva dog's snores. And so, play on.

Skoal.

And one last thing: I wish I could say that I'm surprised or amazed at the cruelty of humans. But sadly, I am not. Some folks are cruel, mean, sadistic, s.o.b.s. And to those meanies who are making the lives of my friends miserable, shame on you...you sniveling sacks of snot.

And on that note, I'm going to try to get some sleep.

Peace out.