Intervention

One of my cats has been acting suspicious lately. This morning, I walked into the bathroom to blow dry my hair, and Matilda was slurping out of the toilet. As soon as she realized I had seen her, she quickly sat up straight and snapped, "Who? Me? Oh no, I was just checking to see if the bathroom meets inspection. Carry on!" (She is a big Project Runway fan, so she tries to fit "Carry on!" and "Make it work!" into a conversation whenever she can.) She jumped down onto the tile and glared at me while I dried my hair, and as I left the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of her hopping back up onto the toilet seat and sneaking another sip.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't secretly drinking alone a big red flag? I honestly think she has an addiction. I tried to talk to her brother, Murphy, about it, but he just said, "So, she drinks out of the toilet every now and again. She says it relaxes her. As a matter of fact, you're looking a little tense; maybe you should try it." Obviously Murphy is just a big, fluffy enabler and isn't going to be any help. Ever since that ribbon eating incident, I've known that he's a bad influence. (Trust me; a cat that poops rainbows isn't as cool as it sounds.)

I guess we could keep all of the toilet lids down, but then she'll just start stealing bacon from the breakfast table again, and substituting one addiction for another won't do anyone any good. We could send her to kitty counseling, but she always clams up around strangers. Is there a twelve step program for feline toilet drinking? Even if there were, I don't know if it would matter. Have you ever known cats that were willing to admit that they were powerless over anything? I think I'll just lay down the law and tell her there will be no more toilet drinking in my house. She'll probably cry and tell me that I'm being unreasonable, or she may even try to convince me that a little swig of toilet water on the weekends won't hurt. If she does, I'll just put it in language she can understand. I'll say, "Matilda... make it work!"

Haiku Hullabaloo

Youngest has been studying poetry in his fourth grade class, and he has been trying out all of the same forms I remember working with waaaaay back when I was in elementary school - you know, when I only got to ride the school bus after the wheel was finally invented. Yesterday he wrote an adorable haiku:

I love you so much

I'm talking to Mom and Dad

That's my love Haiku

The cutest part, however, is that he used a heart for "love" in the first line and for the "o" in Mom and the "a" in Dad. Isn't that sweet? Of course, this is the same little monkey that was having a farting contest with his brothers not too long ago. Oh well. I'll take what I can get. Youngest's little poem reminded me of my most favorite haiku ever:

Haikus are easy
But sometimes they don't make sense
Refrigerator

I originally saw that little gem by Rolf Nelson on a t-shirt. I wanted to order one, but it is sold out. Still, go ahead and check out threadless; they've got some cool stuff. Which reminds me, I need to go finish my Christmas shopping. Ooh... Can I make that into a haiku?

I'm getting stressed out
Christmas is coming too soon
Can I just skip it?

Okay, I probably don't want to do away with Christmas altogether; I just want to refocus on what is really important. Heck, I feel that way all year. I think I feel another poem coming on:

Peace, hope, joy, and love
My wish for you this season
Happy Holidays

An Open Marriage

It's not that easy to keep secrets in our house. The place is frightfully small, and my husband works from home, so we're together a lot. Anyone would find it hard to hide much of anything under the circumstances. So, I'm not exactly sure why I didn't realize sooner that he was cheating on me.

Sure, he seemed kind of squirrely sometimes, but I chalked it up to him just having an off day. Then, he was avoiding eye contact when we were together, but still I thought I was simply being paranoid. Sometimes, he tried strange new things, but wouldn't tell me how he on earth he came up with such clever techniques. I couldn't ignore his behavior any longer when he started scurrying off to his office at odd hours. I knew he was on the computer, but doing what? I finally demanded an explanation.

Needless to say, I was shocked. I always thought that we had the same hopes and dreams, the same goals in life. Then, if you can believe it, he tried to blame me for his indiscretions. He said that I was too hard on him, and that he didn't know how else to cope. He didn't even attempt to stop all the nonsense. He just kept right on doing it, right in front of me, like it was perfectly normal.

I tried to understand why things had turned out this way for us, but the longer it went on, the angrier I became. I eventually decided that two could play that game, and I cheated, too. At first, it was all about spite, but, over time, I began to see things in a different light. Couldn't it spice things up between us? Wouldn't our time together be a little more interesting? After fifteen years of the same old same old, it would certainly be educational. In the end, couldn't we both be winners?

I'm sure there are many out there who would say this is just plain wrong, and I'm not proposing everyone try things our way. However, there is something magical about being open to new ideas. I know that for me and Rhett, anyway, the best decision we've made in a long, long time is, without a doubt, agreeing that we could both use a word builder to play Scrabulous.

I Don't Hafta if I Don't Wanna!

Guess what... It's December 1st. That means NaBloPoMo is officially over. I don't have to post today! No matter what anyone says, no matter what anyone does, I absolutely positively refuse to post. I will make my presence known in the world by my lack of posting. I am the ruler of my life, and I will not post today under any circumstance.

What? This? Oh yeah, I guess it is, huh? Darn it!

*whispers* Just pretend I wasn't here, okay?

It's Caturday!

I'm still deep in Plath-land, so it's time for more funny kitties - and bears!

more funny pictures

Guest Blogger

Murphy here. Deanna asked me to fill in for her today. I guess she's supposedly doing homework. Whatever. I usually don't spend a lot of time on the computer unless I need a warm place to take a nap, but I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get some things off my chest.

First of all, what is with the lolcats? Do you people really think we talk this way? Give me a break! Even that idiot across the street, Snowball, is smarter than the cats in those stupid pictures. I mean, really, who spells like that? And enough with the buckets and cheeseburgers already. It might have been funny the first eighty-three times, but give it up. The whole idea of lolcats is just offensive. Don't make me call the ACLU about this.

One more thing: The human on feline violence has got to stop. Just because you have opposable thumbs doesn't mean you have the right to torture us with the weapon of mass annoyance:

You know it's not a fair fight. All I'm saying is, if you don't want a hairball in your penny loafers, put down the spray bottle.

I gotta run. I just heard the dryer buzz, and I have a feeling there is a basket of warm towels with my name all over it. Later. - M

What's up Chuck?

Since Mike Huckabee is our former governor, and my kids have a penchant for Chuck Norris jokes, I absolutely had to post this:



I still have no clue who I'm voting for, but I like that the Huckster isn't taking himself too seriously.

Random is Good

I woke up this morning with a sore throat and a pounding headache and a desire to do nothing but curl up in bed until I didn't feel like I just got hit by a truck anymore. Then I remembered... NaBloPoMo. (Some things sound like such a good idea in the beginning, but eighteen days later, not so much.) Not only did I not feel like writing anything, but I also didn't have any idea what to write. Well, thank heavens for Library Diva. She tagged me for a random meme. Here are the rules:

• Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
• Share seven random and or weird things about yourself.
• Tag seven random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
• Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Here is the randomness of me:

1. When I was in 8th grade I won the school spelling bee. I later lost the county spelling bee because I missed "yardbird." Yes, I know how to spell "yardbird," I just got so excited that I was given such an easy word that I blurted out, "y-a-r-d-b-a-r-d. " Yardbard? What is that? Shakespeare mowing the lawn?
2. When I was little, I named everything George - stuffed animals, lizards, my brother's goldfish, all George. We got a dog that the rest of the family insisted on naming Smoky, but to me he was always Smoky George.
3. I like wasabi peas, partly for their spicy goodness and partly because I just like to say wasabi.
4. Ditto with edamame, except for the spicy part.
5. I think being a midwife would be the coolest job in the world. The only thing stopping me from pursuing that career path is my affinity for sleep. I tend to think that a laboring mother would get a little distraught if, after calling me at 3 a.m., I said, "Now's not really a good time for me. Can I get back with you around 10:00?"
6. When we first got married fifteen years ago, Rhett convinced me to give up my favorite side of the bed, and I've never truly forgiven him. I secretly love it when he goes out of town because I can finally sleep where I want.
7. One day when Rhett and I were driving home from North Little Rock, I counted 134 silver cars. Why? If you haven't determined my sanity level by this point, it won't do any good to attempt an explanation now.

Now for the tagging:

• Unplugged or Unhinged?
• Susie Q
• Sooner Mom
• StarrChild
• r8chel
• Jody
• happycheeksdiapers

Thanks for playing. Now I will return to my regularly scheduled miserableness.

Meow

I'm kind of busy today. Here, look at the funny kitties:

more funny pictures

Ten Things You Probably Don't Know - Or Even Want to Know - About Me

1. I was born without eyelashes. (I guess I was undercooked.)
2. My earliest memory is of my older brother and my cousin holding a big plastic spider over my crib.
3. When I was five, I wanted to be a hula dancer when I grew up.
4. When I was fourteen, I wanted to be Whitney Houston when I grew up. (Now I'm kinda glad that didn't work out.)
5. After I saw American Idol auditions for the first time, I vowed never to sing in public again. Thank heavens my shower isn't in public.
6. I love the smell of tabasco sauce. Seriously. Like huffing it love it.
7. When I was eighteen, I rented a studio in an old house converted into apartments. One night, one of my friends (who worked for my landlord) said, "I did the wiring in that house. I'm surprised it hasn't burned down yet." A couple of hours later, there was a fire.
8. My first job was cleaning chicken poop out of chicken feeders. I guess gagging the whole time made me a less than stellar employee, and they asked me not to come back a second day. I was totally okay with that.
9. I love lolcats. They make me giggle.
10. I'm a member of Mensa. If I'm an example of the top two percent of IQ's, we should all be very worried.

The Rules and How I Break Them

To have an entertaining blog, there are a few rules one should follow. Being that I generally love to bend, stretch, twist, and otherwise manipulate rules, it should come as no surprise that I don’t follow the rules for blogging either. Let us review:

1. Always have something funny, interesting, or enlightening to say, even if you are only posting that you have nothing to say.

Even though Rhett thinks that I never shut up, I actually do run out of things to say occasionally. (That’s usually when I resort to poking penguins.) Even if I haven’t run out of subjects to blather on about, I can’t promise that I’ll be remotely funny, interesting, or enlightening. Now funny looking I can work with.

2. Be constantly on the go. Make trips to interesting places like festivals, or vacation in exotic locales.

Here’s my current list of places I travel: school, back home again, the grocery store, and sometimes I actually make it to church. Scintillating, huh?

3. Take pictures of everything, and then make even the bad ones seem witty.

Have you heard my motto? It’s “Oh crap! I forgot the camera!”

4. Have remarkable friends with clever screen names who provide amusing anecdotes for your blog.

Um, yeah. Did you catch the part where I said the places I go are school, the grocery story, and home? The only people I regularly hang out with, I either married or gave birth to.


Oh well. Next week, my new pal KangarooCharmer and I are going to the first annual Knitting with Noodles Festival, and I’ll be sure to get pictures of the “linguine lace” class. Maybe I’ll have something good to post then.

Poke the Penguin

Go on! You know you want to...



Psychotic penguin courtesy of Gamesville.

Jokes My Kids Told Me

Since there's a big writers' strike going on, and the late night shows are in jeopardy, I'd like to submit some of my boys' finer material for consideration. Jay, Dave, Conan - you know where to reach us if you want some of this comedy gold for your monologue!

Q: What do cannibals eat at parties?
A: finger food

Q: Why did the elephant sit on the marshmallow?
A: So he wouldn't fall in the hot cocoa

Q: What do you get when you cross Star Wars and road construction?
A: R2Detour

Then there's always the Chuck Norris jokes:

A lot of kids wear Superman pajamas... Superman wears Chuck Norris pajamas.

Most kids check their closet for the boogie man... The boogie man checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

;)

I'll Take "Safe Answers" for $500, Alex

Sunday night we were all driving home from my parents' house, and the boys were discussing the difference between nerds and geeks. Evidently, according to Oldest Son, there are stringent criteria for each classification. After listening to the debate for a bit, I posed the question, "What am I?"

[Insert cricket chirping sounds here.]

Evidently the boys were afraid to answer, and I have to give them props for being smart enough to not call me a geek or a nerd (at least not to my face). I finally broke the silence and gave them some advice that will take them far in life (especially when they get married), "No matter what the conversation, if a woman asks you 'What am I?' the answer is 'beautiful' boys. The answer is always 'beautiful'."

Not missing a beat, Rhett chimed in with, "And if a woman asks you anything else, the answer is always 'Yes, dear.'"

Just Do the Math

I read an article called "30 Days to Success," and the premise sounded simple enough. Try a new habit for just thirty days, and then you can go back to your old miserable ways (or not). I decided I would try getting up each morning at 5:00 a.m., because as we all know:

early to bed + early to rise = healthy, wealthy, and wise

Unfortunately, I forgot a few other key equations. Like...

early to rise - early to bed = sleep deprivation

And...

sleep deprivation + PMS = total meltdown

Therefore...

early to rise + momof3gr8kids = What the *#%@ was I thinking?

I'm Missing an "H"

I've always felt defective. I understand now that I've been measuring myself against an impossible standard: my mother. She is absolutely amazing and always so full of energy. I truly believe that she accomplishes more before 8:00 a.m. than an average person does in an entire week. But when I was I kid, I didn't realize that. I just saw her buzzing around and felt incredibly inadequate.

Seven or eight years ago, I was finally given a name for my perceived inadequacy: Attention Deficit Disorder, or ADD. (Unfortunately, naming the problem didn't cause my bathroom to instantly shine or get me caught up on laundry.) What I noticed about this diagnosis was the glaring absence of an "H". You see, my type of attention deficit is known as "inattentive". This is the zoning out kind of ADD, the kind where I am blissfully ensconced in my own little world until something truly interesting comes along. ADHD, on the other hand, is for the unfocused types who run around, always busy with something, even if it's the wrong thing to be busy with. The way I see it, the "H" is the crucial difference between the two types. So, I've decided I desperately need my missing "H".

I think my Mom has this elusive "H". Let's face it, what we might call "hyper" in children, we just call "having a lot of irons in the fire" in adults. I also think that the "H" can skip a generation. While Oldest Son is a dreamer like me, Middle Son definitely has the "H". (The jury is still out on Youngest Son. So far, he seems miraculously balanced. It must be his father's fault.)

Now before anybody gets upset, let me make it clear that I don't think having ADHD is necessarily easier that having ADD. But, you see, I've already got the whole unfocused routine down. I've been working on that for thirty-five years. But if I found my missing "H", I might actually get something done. Sure, I might only get the dishwasher halfway unloaded before I get the brilliant idea to make a tutu for the cat, but at least half of the dishes would be put away (and the cat would look really cute, but miffed). So, needless to say, if you see an extra "H" floating around, send it my way!

Rules of Engagement

Let’s just say that I’m a woman of ample figure. I personally prefer the term voluptuous. I’ve decided that my ancestors must have lived in some incredibly cold climate where extra body fat ensured survival because my body seems genetically prone to extra padding. (Admittedly, I’m sure that both my unnatural affinity for chocolate and my extreme aversion to exercise haven’t helped my situation.) Even the times in my life when I was somewhat slender (which have been much fewer and farther between than I would have liked), I’ve always had a little belly bulge that could easily be mistaken for a baby bump. That being said, you can understand that I live with a mortal fear of someone incorrectly assuming that I’m pregnant. Luckily, most people have enough good sense not to say anything – even if they’re secretly wondering, “Is she, or isn’t she?” So, imagine my horror during the following scenario:

The other day, I noticed an acquaintance that I hadn’t seen for a couple of months. I waved and said, "Hi Michelle*!" She smiled and shot back instantly with, "Hey girl! Are you having another baby?"

Okay, Michelle has just broken the first rule of communication regarding suspected pregnancy: Never ask a woman if she is pregnant unless she exhibits one of the following signs:
a) She is wearing a t-shirt with some sickeningly cute "baby on board" style motif.
b) She lovingly rubs her belly on a regular basis. (This one can be tricky,
however, especially with the lactose intolerant crowd. Beware of confusing
baby love with indigestion.)
c) She is overheard gushing over her latest ultrasound or the wallpaper she's
chosen for the nursery.
I, by the way, had exhibited none of these symptoms prior to my encounter with Michelle.

After I recovered from the initial shock of Michelle's blatant disregard for rules of propriety, I tried to laugh it off. "Nope – my last due date was May of 1998." Michelle, however, insisted, "I was just sure you were having another baby!"

Now, it's bad enough that the first faux pas occurred, but we all make mistakes. Enter the second rule: If you ever erroneously assume that a woman is pregnant and blurt out that assumption due to a momentary lapse in judgment, at least try to soften the blow by saying something like, "Sorry, it was a wild guess because you are just absolutely glowing!"

Stunned once again by Michelle’s brazenness, I flatly replied, "No Michelle. I'm just fat." But, bless her heart, this woman just wouldn't give up. As if her sheer force of will could have made her allegations true, she diligently rubbed salt in my wounds, repeating yet again, "Oh girl, I really thought you were pregnant."

At that point, I simply walked away.
 
Unfortunately, aside from a scholarship to charm school, not much can be done for Michelle. But let us all learn a lesson from this experience. The third rule is simple and trumps all other rules: If in doubt, just keep your mouth firmly shut. Ladies, you never know when you’ll be the victim of a bad combination of post-lunch bloating and trendy empire-waist fashions and desperately need the same consideration from someone else. For the sake of women everywhere, please, just be quiet.

As I’ve reviewed this experience in my mind over the past few days, I’ve tried to determine if I could have made the situation less awkward. After careful contemplation, the answer I’ve come up with is no, probably not. But I could have said something so outlandish that I would have at least gotten a good chuckle out of the look on Michelle’s face. Something like, “Of course I’m not pregnant. I’m just bulking up so I can go as Buddha for Halloween.” Needless to say, it’s so much easier to be witty twenty minutes after the need for wit has passed. But rude people are lurking in the most unlikely places, and when I go into battle with the next one, I’ll be ready.

* Names may – or may not – have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. But, if your name is Michelle, and you had an eerily similar conversation with a fat lady last Tuesday, you might want to reevaluate your manners.