Saturday, August 23, 2008

Life With Kitty

I was trying to play with Piper today but as you can see she was being super lazy all cuddled up on her spot. So, I decided to get the camera out instead and just shoot her natural beauty.
As I am attempting this, I caught a glimpse of something in the lens as the shutter clicked. you see it? The black fuzzy stuff in the upper left corner...yeah, that's Masseuse, our cat. I couldn't get another shot of Piper for him standing in front of the lens wiping his snotty nose all over it and yowling at me. Can you tell he was obviously feeling left out?

But as I leaned back on the couch and reverted my attention to His Highness, THIS is the look I get!

Pray tell, what in Heaven's name hath I done, Master Masseuse, to have offended thee so?
Shall I fetch thee clean water from the spring?
Should I swiftly flee to the ocean shore and bring thee back the finest of freshest tuna?
Shall I command the sun to rise in the West instead of the East tomorrow?

Honestly, this cat has some major personality disorders. I "rescued" him from a garage sale about 2 years ago. He was skinny and hungry but friendly. When I picked him up, (which is always my downfall because I never put them back down and they inevitably end up coming home with me, much to my husband's dismay), he began kneading my chest and arms, hence how he got his name. Now, read on and tell me that I am not the one needing rescuing here!

Let's discuss just a couple of his disorders, quickly before he notices I'm gone:

Schizophrenia: One minute he's lazily laying next to me in bed bathing himself. The next thing I know, he's clawing me to get to the door and escape something that I guess is going to eat him. I used to jump out of bed, too when he did this. We'd both be looking around the room all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, eyeballing each other. After a minute or two I'd crawl back into bed, but not before checking underneath it and in the covers for some kind of culprit for his madness. I have come to realize that it was the voices in his head told him to do that.

OCD: He walks figure 8s around my legs every morning while I'm in the bathroom getting dressed. This sounds typical of a cat, right? No. It's not! He does this every morning at the same time and if he can't get to me he starts yowling outside the door frantically. Eventually, he starts knocking his head against the door. I'm not kidding. Plus, he HAS to race me down the stairs every morning. And he HAS to win. No matter how much of a head start I get, he will fly past me scooby-dooing the last few steps and risking a broken neck just to beat me. I used to think it was a little game we played. No, this is his sick obsession with authority over me. Which leads me right into a BIG one...

Narcissism: Hence, the reason I started this post to begin with. His feelings of grandiosity and prestige prevented him from allowing me to give any sort of attention to any other four-legged member of the clan. He has this sense of entitlement, that everything in the house is HIS; the couch where I was just sitting 2 seconds ago, the magazine I am reading at the moment, the laptop I am currently typing on (right now), the milk on my cereal, the potted plants outside, my hair ties-whether they're in my hair or not, the clothes on my floor, my jewelry-specifically dangley earrings, the dog's food, the bread in the bread box that's double bagged, the water from the sink while I'm doing the dishes, even the dust bunnies I so neatly swept into a pile that I had to turn my back on for just a second to get the dust pan...

Dissocial/Multiple Personalities: OK, get this. I'm relishing in a rare cuddling moment with Masseuse. He's happily curled up in my arms, I'm stroking his head, he's purring loudly and has his eyes closed. I scratch his nose, his all-time favorite scratching spot, and he presses his face into my finger. He's liking this, right? That's what one would assume. All of a sudden he opens his eyes and, you know that look in the picture above?
It's too late.
I can't back away slowly.
I can't shake hands and compromise a truce.
I can't bribe him with super yummy and very expensive kitty treats.
All I can do is cover my throat and curl into the fetal position and pray for the beatings to end soon.
Within a few minutes it's all over. I emerge only partially scathed and bruised. There are claw marks on my forehead and teeth marks up and down my arms. Clumps of my hair are in piles here and there all around me. I am bleeding profusely from one ear.
Then, he licks me.
On my sore spot.

I have contemplated taking him to the vet for some sedatives of some kind but am afraid of what will happen if I forget a dose one day.

Angel Kitty or Devilish Feline? You decide.

Bringin' Sexy Back

What you are peering at is my son's attempt at "Sexy". How do I know that he was specifically going for that, quote-unquote, sexy look, you ask?


As he bounded down the stairs and came to a very intendedly suave and debonair stand still, just slightly leaning on the piano he looks at me and the girls and flashes his signature wink in our general direction and says...


Yes, I know. Everything you're thinking...I know it.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

There Goes My Life

Where's a Bottle of Time When You Need One?

It is amazing to me how quickly time passes. With Garrett starting school and all my girls who have been in school and it's no longer such a big deal to them, I have come to the realization that precious time with my children is gone. Time that I hope I spent wisely and that I hope even more so has had an impact on them. It's time I wish I had back. Time that has slipped out the back door with all its suitcases and left the key on the counter.
I've sent kids to school before. And I cried on all of their first days, too. But like I said in a previous post; this one is different. With Garrett leaving, I come home to an empty house. It's the weirdest sensation to look over your shoulder and not have a chubby little face right there ready with the question, "Is it snack time yet?"
So, today I took the last of my offspring out for a very special mom and son date letting him choose what all we did. Here's the day in pictures for your enjoyment:

Eating at Long John Silver's

Photo Op

Play date at the park.

I remember when this slide used to be too big for him. Now nothing seems too daunting for my little man.

Not a bad little pic for a 4 year old Pre-schooler!

He was supposed to wait on me. I guess I better get used to that idea. Time doesn't believe in waiting. I found that out today.

Did I Do That?!

Recently, a couple close friends of mine and I found some extra courage just lying around and, after no one claimed it, we decided to put it to good use ourselves while at Hurricane Harbor. We opted to let a goofy black guy who insisted on being referred to as "That Boy" who was working his FIRST day on the job, no less, and a short Mexican lady with a major attitude problem strap us all together into body halters and string us up by our ankles from a 200 foot arch in the middle of the park.

That's the easy part...climbing. Although, I'm told about 1/4 of the way up the incline I turned ghost white and started chanting.

Anyhow, as the people below are turning into ants and I'm seeing my life flash before my eyes I had to wonder how I used up all that extra courage so fast. Some people waved to us. I waved back. Some people laughed. I didn't feel like laughing. I chanted some more. Some people had their hands clasped over their mouths. I felt like I might throw up but I couldn't get my hand to my mouth because that meant I would have to let go of the death grip I had on Ila. I swallowed instead.

The crane that was pulling us by our feet up and backwards came to a jerky halt. I saw "That Boy" wave to me which was the signal for me to pull the cord. Yes, he picked me to pull the cord that would release us into the eternal depths of swinging terror! And I know why...because he knew by the time I got up there I'd be the one to freak out and would give the best show for those on the ground. At least I didn't disappoint.

I blindly reached behind me and grabbed the little orange nubby thing wondering if this was the pull-cord or the thing that unhooks my harness. I winced and yanked. Nothing happened for a split second and it gave me time to latch on to Ila just case I had unhooked myself.

Then, the exhilaration of free fall. The wind in your face. The sun on your back. The nausea that has solidified and crept up your throat. We swung a million miles an hour back and forth like a pendulum in the sky. Although, I must say we 3 would have made a stunning pendulum. Anyhow, after I realized we were only a few feet above the people wading in the pools below I opened my eyes. I released my grip on Ila. Her arm was white and limp. I doubt she's recovered the feeling back in it yet. They may have had to amputate. There was a little girl who caught my eye and gave me 2 thumbs up. I replied with the same, albeit shaky, gesture. I almost puked on her.

When we were unharnessed and freed I took my first few steps on solid ground. However, there was a sound following me. It sounded like someone tapping a small drum behind me. I looked down. It was my knees. My hands had turned into mush and were now just useless appendages that drug the ground. My head flopped around on my neck like a bowling ball trying to balance on a chopstick.
But I'd do it all again tomorrow!

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