Honest Scrap: Thanksgiving Edition

This is an award. An award posing as a meme with all the meme attachments. As is my usual custom, I will pass on the some of the special conditions. Though I do consider all the blogs I read award worthy. I will comply with the special condition of listing 10 facts . My twist as the title indicates, these facts as are related to Thanksgiving 2009 at Deborah's Place.
1. "This place is a zoo!" When son moved out three years ago there weren't any pets. He spent Thursday and Friday nights (the first sleep-over since his move) and while he wasn't surprised by the presence of the fur-babies, he was surprised by their (primarily Buttah's)attachment to him. My son, we've discovered, is not a cat person. He was relatively good-natured about it though. Still, the second night Buttah had to have his nocturnal roaming curtailed, just a bit.

2. Maneuvering about the (small) kitchen with a grey dog and orange cat constantly under-foot hoping for accidental drops added a layer of challenge to the day.

3. Speaking of challenge: My Mother vs. My Daughter. ::sigh::

4. However, 2 glasses of wine, 2 vodka martinis, and a tequila/rum margarita did not hamper my peacekeeper/maker capabilities. In fact, may have even helped.

5. A "Happy Thanksgiving" call from a new acquaintance was a rather nice surprise.

6. And "Happy Thanksgiving" (and more) text messages from a dear, dear friend resulted in warm fuzzy feelings.

7. I forgot the mashed taters and gravy. Hi-ever, no one seemed to notice (or care).

8. Though not quite my kryptonite, homemade mac n cheese is most def, da bomb!

9. 'Tis a fact, mom mis-remembers events from my childhood. It was older brother not younger who crashed into a parked car with his bike, suffering an injury that required stitches to his left ear.

10. In addition "remember when . . ." talk, dinner convo included my revelation. I answered the question she hasn't (or refused) to ask. Due to the emotions of the day (see mom vs daughter note above) she was not up to discussing it much then and because of a visit from that Aunt (& the cramps she rode in on) a surprise after many, many (ok, maybe just one many, but still, a while) months, I have not up to discussing it much since. But, more talk will ensue, of this I am sure.

Still, the news (good, all good) is out and so (step-by-step) am I.

The Eyes Had It

Diva dog isn't wild about the grooming process. And as a result the process is usually managed over several days. Depending on where she is in the process (or where Danielle started) you might see the right side shaved but the left relatively shaggy.

Or to see her body hair sheared to a respectable length while her legs look like she's wearing furry boots. Diva dog is particularly antsy about her legs being touched, for even more that the clippers and scissors she. does. not. like. her. nails. cut.

Many months ago, on the bad advice of someone of little consequence now, Danielle sheared Diamond the Diva dog nearly bald. That looked horrible. Much of the Diva's character was being swept into a trash bag.

Shameful. Even Diamond seemed to know how badly she'd fared that time. Perhaps why she puts up a bit more of a fuss when the shears come out. I think she was in day 3 of a recent progressive grooming cycle when this pic was snapped.

Her face, especially around the eyes, is usually the last round.

Every few weeks when it's time for the grooming cycle to begin and we try to push D-dog through too many cycles in a single day I think about Truvy's comment about "nobody wanting a full day of beauty".

Certainly not our little Diamond in the ruff.

Spread Out

Photo Via

For a variety of reasons, I had a fleeting notion of not hosting a Thanksgiving feast this year. But then I changed my mind. The spread kinda sorta planned won't be anything terribly elaborate and the guest list will be short; only be mom, son, me, and possibly daughter (& her boyfriend). She mentioned wanted to experience the day with the boyfriend and his family. Apparently, fried fish is in the mix. She fears however, that if she isn't there to stake her claim to my fixins' she'll be s.o.l. as Michael will eat his fill then be offered to-go tubs as is the usual tradition. Of course, she needn't worry.

I haven't been feeling particularly festive lately, which I guess is part of why I decided to host the gathering. We have each faced some piercing and far-reaching challenges this year and in recent weeks, particularly. And I suppose, all the more reason to gather together. I've been feeling like we are each on the verge of some major changes and not all of them positive, necessarily.

For a variety of reasons, I have been feeling like we won't have too many more all-together festive gatherings. And I suppose, all the more reason to gather together this time, as often as we can and make (and take) the best of each experience.

Odd, But Not

On the work voice-mail this week: Deb? this is Joanie . Hey, did you change your e-mail address again? You haven't responded to my e-mail. Stella and I are getting worried about you. CALL ME at xxx-xxx-xxxx, right away. Let me know you're OKAY.

WDDD?

I don't know what possessed me to pick up the land line at home. I so very rarely do anything quite so risky. But, I did and on the other end, a sales/tele-marketing person? Nooooo, a ghost from the past. A former supervisor. And while he made all the hey, how are you, the kids, and all noises, the real purpose for the call was to find another of our group. They apparently had kept in better touch since the business dealings forced our separation. but recently seemed to have lost touch. He wondered if I knew anything, had heard anything. I didn't. I don't. I hadn't.

She and I hadn't been in contact for quite awhile now as she never seemed interested in any real cultivation of friendship. She had become one of those kind of e-mailers and has long since fallen off my radar. Obviously, I don't wish her any ill will and I told our former boss that I'd see what I could find out. I checked a few data-bases to no avail.

This has been a week for calls from past lives. Another former co-worker, going back much further than the decade or so the former boss represents, called my office line. She and I were friends and we'd kept in touch for a time after she left the company in '86? '87? Anyhoo, she said, "guess who this is?" And while I nearly said her name, I reacted as if I had no clue. The voice had a familiar ring but was tinged with time, leaving it slightly altered from that which I'd stored in memory.

We talked, laughed back and forth as if no time at all had elapsed. Fun, that. Continuing on this path will fill me with much glee.

So, this week worth of calls has been a mixed bag. To have heard from each of this entities in the span of 5 days after having not heard from them (Joanie's emails aside) in years, decades is the kind of thing my mom would have looked up in her numerology book toward finding lottery numbers to play, when she was into that sort of thing.

Any hidden meanings in the confluence of events? I don't know, but they certainly added some additional twists to an already twisty week. For all the calls I did get there are a few I didn't.

Dear friends, please know you're on my mind and in my heart. ♥

Meno Mean ?

Probably should have just said yes to something, anything. But offer after offer, all I could say was, "no thank you." Mom offers me things; food, ugly (and a size too large) clothing, a variety of household goods she's gotten from others, and more. At one time I accepted these things to be nice. Most of the items got donated elsewhere, while a good faith effort was made to eat the food.

But some time ago I stopped accepting the items. Much of the food my mom prepares these days don't fit my own dietary requirements or tastes. As for the other items, I have enough of my own (and daughter's) accumulated shit overflow goods that I just don't have the room to store more prior to the haul (or rather series of hauls) to various donation outlets.

So, I turned down her flurry of offers in what I thought was a kindly and courteous manner. Mom sighed, "well, I don't know what I can offer you." To which I replied, "you don't have to offer me anything." To which she queried, "is it the menopause that makes you mean?"

Well, gee as I don't think I am mean I'd have to say no, me + meno doesn't = mean. But hey, maybe I'm coming off in a way I don't intend.

I shall be commissioning a study. I shall keep you posted as to the results.

Photo Credit

Wrap Up

It was not my plan to go to Navy Pier . I got a later start for my journey to the downtown theatre showing Precious as the result, I missed the 2:00 pm showing. The pier being only a few blocks further east presented as an obvious (inexpensive) choice to burn some time before the next showing.

I eased into the morning, day with a light breakfast and a couple of cups of coffee after which I got myself together to go do a load of laundry. The laundry mat I use is a bit over a mile away. I decided to take advantage of the pleasant start to the day and bike it on down there.

About a third of the way I experience some sinking feeling. I pat my pockets for my keys.

No keys. Gone. Shit!

Every single time I wear one of several pair of cargo shorts, I forget to put the keys in the cargo pockets. I use the slant pockets, which aren't very deep. I hear the clang as they hit the ground, but I don't register the clang, as the clang of my keys. Until I'm several blocks away and that sinking feeling prompts me to pat the pockets.

Backtrack. Heart racing, hoping they are on the ground, still. Not much time as passed, so hope is high. But, still. I detest losing keys. AND there isn't anyone home but the fur babies. They can't retrieve the spares and throw them down to me. AND there weren't any open windows even if any one of them COULD locate and collect the spare keys.

I miss them on the first pass while I was on the bike. I park the bike, backtrack again on foot, and whew . . . success! I have to admit, a bit of cream was burned off the joy that is a beautiful November day and certainly, I'm beyond wanting to continue to the laundry. But, washing today? A must.

An hour or so later I'm still going back and forth in my mind about trekking downtown to the movie theatre. I want to see the flick, I don't know when I might get another chance, and so . . that plus the gorgeous weather helped convince me to venture out.

Still, I dilly-dallied long enough that catching the 2:00 p.m. showing would require quite a bit of luck and a rocket propelled train. Well, as you know, I missed the 2:00 p.m. showing. That gave me the opportunity to take in what is usually one of my least favorite destinations.

Today however, thanks to the gorgeous weather, some of the businesses being closed for the season resulting and the Bears playing a home game, resulting in a lighter crowd, the pier was quite pleasant. the pier wasn't terribly crowded. The weather and lack of overwhelming crowd made for a nice, pleasant way to spend part of an afternoon.

The movie, as you can probably tell from the trailer, is bleak. The subject matter is not at all up-beat. But, it was good. There were some decent performances and some only so-so. The filming and story-telling styles felt herky-jerky to me, taking away a bit of the power and punch the film should have delivered. But over-all, good. Having witnessed some of what Precious experienced, made the film that much harder to watch.

Still, I'm glad I got our for more than chores today. I'm glad circumstances had me in the later showing (I think the 2:oo was sold out anyway) for coming home in the clear, crisp evening was as enjoyable as the the early part of day had been.

All-in-all, a good day wrapping up a good weekend.

??????? And Then Some

Hey Debbie: How come I have not heard from you in such a long time???? What is going on???? Are things okay with you, Michael and Danielle and your mom????


My old friend is at it again.

She goes on to say she was mentioning to Stella (another former co-worker) that she hadn't heard from me in ages and ages, hope all is well, yadda yadda... Stella relayed to Joan (as reported by Joan) that she hadn't heard from me either. Note: Stella was burned out of her apartment nearly two years ago and I've yet to receive notice of her re-location address and I never had her phone number. Even before the fire, Stella didn't respond to my letters. Yes, actual letters. Any Stella news came from Joan.

After a couple of letters and no reply, I stopped writing.


Joan finishes, Please write soon and let me know that you are alright. I am getting very concerned.

Her message arrives at a time when I do not have the time, patience, or nary a hint of desire to massage her . . . whatever. Her, let me know that you are alright. I am getting very concerned sounds too much like someone much nearer and dearer to me and quite frankly I have enough on my hands and heart dealing with her various physical, emotional, and housing issues.

So Joan, I will not be writing soon. In fact, I will not be writing at all. If you call the office I may be available to speak with you, however, please know that I am very busy these days.

Never-the-less, I wish you well and when to talk with Stella, pass on my hellos.

Definition

Laid Back Halloween Party: A dinner of Chinese food (a promise of the best egg foo young, ever), dessert of taffy apples, beverage of choice, candy, (bonus: passing out to trick-or-treaters) and of back-to-back Dexter episodes.

2. Four women. Good food. Good time.

Don't Know Why

Walking down the street the other day with nothing much on my mind except watching where I stepped, lest I trip on a pebble or nothing (I'm prone to that) I began to take notice of car grilles. Don't ask me why, I do not know why.

I work on a block with service drives on either side of the thru street. The parking rules dictate that vehicles pull in, generally on a slight angle (though the street in not lined) giving one so inclined full, un-obstructive views of vehicles grilles. The other day I was so inclined. Don't ask me why, I do not know why.

There were a variety of makes and models parked along a 2 block stretch (the extent of my research parameter) and I noticed that styling for grilles mostly alternated between a boxy rectangle with vertical grid lines, as if to suggest open-mouthed teeth bared in a grimace. Like so:

Or a kind of trapezoidal took with the corners pointed up in a mock metal smile. Depending on the sharpness of the angles, the smile could appear friendly or sinister, such as:

There was one make / model that didn't follow the general pattern noted. That, being the Mini Cooper. The Mini doesn't grimace nor does it smile. The Mini frowns. See exhibit C:

Don't ask me why, I do not know why.

Head's Up

Last weekend it was the eczema outbreak and this, a cold. A cold that rudely took up residence in my head, throat, and chest. When I wasn't asleep, I was coughing, sneezing, and oozing fluids from my nose and eyes.

Gorgeous, yes I know.

My gorgeous self woke up this morning after a fitful night. A dream that surprisingly, I remember was quite disturbing. It involved the kid's dad and had me literally gasping for air. It was the closest I've come to a nightmare in quite some time.

Also, I snore. I've been told that I snore, but I never really believed it. Does anyone ever? I think, perhaps it might be worse when I'm sick.

Maybe.

Anyhoo... my gorgeous self woke up this morning and the trip to the bathroom mirror confirmed my suspicsions, drool. In addition to the leaky eyes, dripping nose I had achieved fluids triple play. Yep, gorgeous. I know.

On the bright side, the dream was just a dream, the cold is just a cold, and the meds, mega tons of soup, orange juice, and bed rest seem to be working.

I'm beginning to feel more like myself. Which is good, feeling blah really sucks socks.

Topped

My day started at 4:36 a.m. I don't know what startled me awake, likely a dream. If it was a dream it vanished as soon as my eyes opened, probably even before. The room was dark and quiet. Both conditions out of the ordinary. I've been trying something new. I'm not happy with the results, but perhaps I need to give it more time. I shall.

Anyhoo...my day started at 4:36 a.m. I didn't try to go back to sleep, but I did linger in bed until I couldn't any longer. After the bathroom run, I returned to bed, but didn't sleep. I lingered longer. A bit after six the day began in earnest. The boys and D-dog were happy.

From that point on the day was rather routine, outside of a co-worker commenting on my face ("it looks better") and another coming to complete is I-9 form asked if the tattoo of his social security (inside left wrist) would satisfy the document requirement. Otherwise, routine.

End Scene. I've been tagged. Thanks NCP! This is the one word survey. Y'all know the drill, if you wanna, top - on!!

1. Where is your cell phone? Pocket
2. Your hair? Short
3. Your mother? Florence
4. Your father? James
5. Your favorite food? Potato
6. Your dream last night? Vaporized
7. Your favorite drink? Tepid
8. Your dream/goal? Solvency
9. What room are you in? Living
10.Your hobby? Drawing
11. Your fear? Drowning
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Earth
13. Where were you last night? Home
14. Something that you aren’t? Four
15. Muffins? Crave
16. Wish list item? Canon
17. Where did you grow up? NSEW
18. Last thing you did? seventeen
19. What are you wearing? Socks
20. Your TV? On
21.Your pets? Asleep
22. Friends? Some
23. Your life? Static?
24. Your mood? Reasoned
25. Missing someone? Still
26. Vehicle? Dream
27. Something you’re not wearing? Suspenders
28. Your favorite store? Nope
29. Your favorite color? Rainbow
30. When was the last time you laughed? Today
31. Last time you cried? Same
32. Your best friend? DP
33. One place that I go to over and over? Lavatory
34. One person who emails me regularly? 'cuz
35. Favorite place to eat? Mine

Easy Like Sunday Morn'

That is to say, I'm trying to take it easy. Though part of me does feel guilty to be wasting what has turned into a near perfect autumn day, I feel it best to stay indoors and as quiet as possible. You see, I had an eczema outbreak on Friday. I worked Friday, but the itching, rubbing, trying to relive the itching, and repeat, made it extremely hard to focus, thus making it extremely hard to power through the list of tasks. I got mostly done, or rather done with the most tedious of the tedious things.

By the time I checked out, half-hour earlier than the usual 5:00, my face felt like it'd been chewed from the inside out. It was hot from having been rubbed raw. By the time I got home to my tea tree soap, cool water, and prescribed ointment it was all i could do to apply and crash.

I haven't experienced an outbreak this bad in a long time, twenty years or so. I don't know what triggered this break. In the past it's been food. Or certain perfumes, shampoos, lotions or the like. I'm not usually affected by fabrics, but maybe that has been a factor too. It was cool this week just passed and I've been wearing sweaters (which aren't new) and scarfs (one of the two, is new) maybe I'm beginning a fabric allergy.

Kmae suggested that it might be stress. And while I don't feel stressed there are things going on that have me somewhat anxious.

Fact is, I don't know what triggered this outbreak. It could have been any one thing or combination of things. Maybe remembering and feeling the memory of being in TN a year ago this weekend. Or maybe, it's like the 17-year cicadas. Maybe it was my body sending some kind of message.

Whatever the trigger, the remedy of Tea Tree soap, cool water, wonderfully effective topical ointment, rest, and keeping clear of . . . most everything, anything that might re-fire the situation has been the order of Saturday and now Sunday. The face chewing itching has subsided and the face is a little less raw, just peeling a bit. Oh yes, a sight.

Monday is back to the grind but today is more of Saturday's plan . . . slow and easy, rinse and repeat.

I'm Gonna Tell Yo Momma

Remember the cousin who e-mails me forwarded junk stuff? Well, it has continued, once a week or so since that post. In the beginning I opened every one. Then, as I determined no special thought was proffered along with the forwards, I slowed on opening them and often simply ignore them. Now and again, I'll get suckered intrigued by the subject line, hoping for something profound, interesting or really, really funny.

Damn. I would assign them to spam but she is, well, family and she might someday send me something . . . relevant.

Recently I heard from my mother that this cousin is hurt that I don't even bother to respond to her missives.

WHAT?!?

Did I mentioned these are forwards?

That she doesn't even preface? Not even with a "HELLO"??

The most recent spat of Fw: Fwd: include: 7 reasons not to mess with children --a take on children say the darnedest things You can't fix stupid --10 recitations of stupid human tricks and Generation Y --a breakdown of the various generations; silent, baby boomers, X and Y --and why Y? a cartoonist's rendition of a young male with his pants sagging revealing the Y at the top of his ass.

Hardee har har har....

Probably I should (could) at least acknowledge the mail. As she told my mom, "I make a special effort to reach out."

I'm a little miffed that she told my mom. She's 53 years old!!

My first thought was to file mom's report away as...heh. Oh sure, rant and rave (to Danielle) but otherwise let forwarding emailers rest.

But, I didn't. I emailed my cousin and I told her why I don't respond to her forwards. I let her know that while it is nice? to be included in the list, it'd be nicer still to hear how she, her husband, daughters, and grandson are doing. It might be nice if she asked after me and mine, once in awhile. That I might be more apt to respond to fw: fwd: if there weren't all soooo banal.
I thought once, twice, before hitting send. Was I stepping into a beehive? Would I be stung?

send

Spinning

It could be because there is too much coffee in my system as I've just realized that I've downed 1/2 a pot, 6 cups (only half, because I only made 1/2 a pot). It could be because in addition to the 1/2 pot of coffee there was also the two slices of peanut butter toast not to mention the carrot cupcake topped with butter cream icing. It could be all that. But, it could also be this: That little girl in pink with the one finger thrust in the air, posing for the camera, is my little girl. We were celebrating that day the event of her very first birthday. On that day in October it was all about balloons, cake, ice cream, and fun...for her. Today, as we celebrate the event of her 24th birthday it is still about balloons (well, one anyway ::smirk::) cake, ice cream (in the cake ) and for fun her, but it is also about our evolution as mother and daughter, as women. It is also about who we have become individually and as a unit. It is also about how relate and are related.

To say that I love my daughter (or she me) is only the beginning. There are so many layers to who we are as women today, October 11, 2009.

In addition to being my daughter's 24th birthday, it is also National Coming Out Day and as part of that celebration and commemoration, I joined a movement that utilized the automatic fb status update device. The status update:

Deborah Xxxxx is a lesbian. It is National Coming Out Day and I pledge to have heartfelt conversations for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender equality.

The status ran for a few days leading up to and then of course, including today. My daughter took a few moments out of her celebratory week to comment on my status:

Danielle Xxxxx U GO GIRL!!! I LOVE AND RESPECT U!!!!! YAY
Yesterday at 8:49pm

Like I said yesterday, my story is evolving and I am beyond overjoyed that my daughter plays an active role in that evolution. My head, it spins.

Happy, happy, joy, joy to my girl, daughter, and friend.

Four Words

I am a lesbian. Those four words uttered to my son and daughter a bit over three years ago released a lifetime of secrets, walls, barriers, avoidances, distances and silences.

I am a lesbian. The power of those four words pushed me toward understanding my truth and empowering me to live that truth from that day forward.

Those four words led me to wonderful bloggers, women who have become allies, confidantes, and friends. Those four words led me to meetings, adventures, and women in my local area with whom I hope and expect to continue building friendships.

I am a lesbian. In the private comfort of my own home, to my son and daughter, to the bloggers I met (just before) and since the reveal, to the women I've met in the last year or so, to the woman I hold near my heart, to these folks, I am a lesbian.

To the world at large, I'm largely, not. However, those four words, I Am A Lesbian the love and support of my family and friends, paired with my own zeal will catapult me even further.

My coming out story is more an evolution. In the words of one of entertainment's most famous divas, "I'm coming out, I want the world to know, got to let it show."

"I'm coming out!"

for Syd

D, as you probably know works as a vet tech in the spay/neuter clinic of our local animal shelter. The shelter receives support in the form of volunteerism and donations from the community. Often, the donations include items that the shelter is unable to use. Those items are either forwarded to other shelters, animal hospitals, the shelter's own resale shop, or other resale shops. Sometimes the items are retained to be sold in the shelter store or given away with new adoptions. Now and again D spies and item that seems a perfect match for one (or more) of our furry brood. The lovely pink pet bed was one such item. Irresistible, isn't it? D won the office bid and was able to bring the lovely pink pet bed home. Buttah didn't waste any time making himself at home. That's Buttah to a T.

However, D had planned the bed for Diamond (irony and as a way to telegraph d-dogs dominant attitude over the house cats). Diamond was not at all interested in the lovely pink bed (unless there was a treat hidden in the cushion. Also, she's a tad too stout and long to lie comfortably (she likes to splay her legs when at deep rest).

We still have to find the perfect location for the lovely pink pet bed.

Another Saturday Night

The boys are at it again, still. No news there, nothing to see, let's move it along . . .

Not a big fan of being in the water (as in swimming) I am a big fan of water, ripples to waves. Water is a fascinating element.

Several weeks ago one of the meet-up groups had a change. The organizer(s) decided to step down from that position as they needed to concentrate on other pursuits. I met them for a few adventures and like them very much. Luckily, I get to keep up with them (and they me) via fb and blogging.

The meet-up organization sent out a call for a new organizer and in stepped Ronnie. She is the organizer of another group and felt it wouldn't be overly taxing to add the Thrifty Queer Adventurers. Eager to meet the new organizer, I was happy to see the first event scheduled soon after the announcement.

The second even came shortly after the first and it was during that event Friday night, that Ronnie invited me (and the other participant) to a party, Saturday night.

A party? Me?

My first instinct was to decline the invitation. I didn't decline outright, but offered to defer, "let me see how Saturday pans out, I'll let you know." The evening wore on (and on, not in that way, but fun none-the-less) and the subject was broached once, twice again. I agreed to go to the party.

Ronnie quipped, "It's a pot-luck, surprise, surprise. Lesbians and pot-luck!" And so, there was food, drink, music via a deejay, dancing and lots and lots and more, w-o-m-e-n.

There were women from the city and 'burbs, women in business and skilled trades, women in partnerships and those not. I talked, laughed, and danced with women. Lots and lots and more, women.

I'm a big fan of women, ripples to waves. Women are fascinating elements.

bubbled over

I'm a fan of love stories in reel life as well as real life. No wonder then that upon learning of the screening dates for "Hannah Free" I immediately marked my calendar, determined to attend at least one of the screenings.

Very soon after I began making my plans e-mail from one of my newer meet-up groups announced a meet-up to the 9/25 screening.

Hot Dog. I rsvp'd!

The night of the 25th I found myself in the famed Gene Siskel Film Center, ticket in hand, domestic beer on the table talking with Linda. She relayed to being new to the area, finding herself suddenly and surprisingly single after 14 years with, "the love of her life." She accepted a job in Chicago, packed up and moved. She joined a couple meet-up groups, signed on to attend this screening and here we are, trading tales.

I confessed to lacking confidence in these kinds of situations, but was determined to force myself out, expand my zones of comfort. Linda thought I was doing very well, engaging, making eye-contact. She thought I seemed at-ease, quite comfortable.

A few sips of a domestic beer and being in a roomful of amiable lesbians might have factored in my level of comfort. Or not.

Me, Linda and others (it's not clear if we were there to meet the same meet-up group or if we were parts of two groups) found seats and chatted a bit more before the movie began. Just prior to lights out a group of women (and a couple of guys) walked toward the stage to address the audience. Sharon Gless was one of the group. AND she spoke!

Be still my ♥ !

The evening, already a pleasure leaped to sheer joy. The only downer, not on the evening specifically but for the past couple of weeks, and especially the last couple of days, my emotions have been in hyper-drive. I cry at the drop of a pin these days.

That is buggin' me out and driving me to distraction.

Another Day, Another Holler

Renee lingered in bed long after the alarm chirped. The snooze feature was deactivated because Darlys preferred to perform those duties in her own unique fashion. Renee counted down, 3, 2, 1 here it comes, "GET UP RENEE!" Darlys yelled from the bathroom. Renee emitted a grunt and a prolonged groan.


Darlys caught the tail end of that groan and pursed her lips to say for the umpteenth time, "if you don't like it, quit. Another groan followed closely by a sigh. Darlys kneeled down next to the bed, searched under the covers until she found Renee's hand, she squeezed lightly and whispered, "I understand honey, but it will be ok. We'll be ok." Darlys released Renee's hand as well as the topic. Renee would come to a decision in her own time.

This has been going on for weeks now. Each day brings a new frustration. Renee is no longer challenged by her work, yet she is rooted to the place, not just because it is her mom's place but also though she doesn't like what she's doing now, she doesn't know what to do next. She's conflicted and though she won't admit it, scared.

I wrote this some weeks ago for the Weekend Wordsmith prompt that week, but never posted it because I couldn't finish it before the next prompt went up. It still isn't finished but I figured what they hey, I'd didn't want it languishing in draft mode. I suppose I could have deleted it, but no, it shall serve a purpose as being the buffer to yet another CAT post.

This is about the other cat.

The first words out of my mouth this morning (to a human) were, "YOUR cat shat in the dog's bed." Had I been in a poetic mood I suppose it would have come out, "your cat shat on the mat."
But no, poetry wasn't on my mind.

When Buttah does something inappropriate HE is HER cat. Otherwise, he's mine (or our ) loving, lovely orange kitty. This morning he (and his shit) were all hers.

She groaned and asked, "is it soft?"

It wasn't (very) and I told her so adding, "he's cleaning his feet." To which she yelled, "HE JUST DID IT!!?" Another groan.

Buttah hasn't ever done anything like this before and we're hoping it's an aberration rather than a new bad habit. We are routinely quite diligent about cleaning the pans. I'll admit to being a tad slow about it this morning, but they didn't seem that soiled.

I stood corrected.

It would appear that the morning routine might need some tweaking to accommodate the little prince's early morning poo-ti-tude.

Meandering

Pete is sitting atop my cd/dvd/video cabinet. He isn't supposed to be there, he is not usually there. He is resting upon a placement one of the kids made in kindergarten. He is flanked by a Rubik's cube and a Rubik's(?) snake, currently fashioned into a sphere.

Pete is obscuring a blown-up, boxed framed photo of my former in-law's Mississippi front yard and road leading to (& away) from their front door.

In the background, Magda.

The sentry Magda is diligent about alerting about an open door (front or back), reminding us that it is now time to exit after she is armed and that she must be disarmed upon entering. When properly coaxed Magda will even relay a customized message, "greetings, have a pleasant day" was recently deleted.

Magda wasn't speaking during Pete's visit to the top of the cabinet. Pete isn't supposed to perch on the top of the cabinet. It is not a usual place for him to rest. Every now and again Pete sets out to explore. He discovers a nook, a cranny, a place to perch that he hadn't known existed.

Or hadn't cared.

For a few minutes, hours or days he is in kitty adventurer heaven. He is re-located to a more appropriate pet perch or he moves on, on his own, off on a new discovery.

I'm fairly certain Magda didn't object. Or, if she did, she didn't say.