What She Does

I’ve been neglecting my blog again.

What can I say?
What goes on between One-Liner Wednesdays?

Well, LIFE.

care6

I was down for about a week, because my extraction site got infected. I’m fine now, and I would rather have an infection for a year than dry socket for ten minutes, so yes, I do know how to count my blessings.
The girls were helpful and kind during the downtime. Mama’s better now…

kids1
I spend time parenting. Which, lately, seems more challenging than it has for awhile. Something wonderful happened in my living room last night. Something magical and messy. From the looks of things, the girls conjured up a great wind, using an open jar of Eucerin, empty yogurt containers, and Fireball wrappers.
After the children have been in trouble, resulting in Mama-The-Shared-Enemy, they unite for joyous ruckus and mayhem, delighting in the company of one another, and they party like it’s 1999.
Yesterday, among other grievances involving unclean pizza stones and misplaced kitchen mallets, the girls were truly naughty. Sassy did not follow directions, creating a laundry crisis. Moo went the extra mile, taking a joyride in the bed of Lily’s pop-pop’s big red truck, up and down the street, twice. Fortunately, Sadie barked madly, which alerted me to the joyride situation, but the dog doesn’t know fuck all about laundry and was unable to catch Sassy’s laundry error.

dogsong
I’ve been mitigating Como’s adaptation to our home, which seems to involve cleaning up a lot of pee. “Oh hi, I’m Como, I’m scared of everything, so I can’t make it to the litter boxes, I’ll just pee wherever!”
She has days where she’ll come out and be a fairly normal kitty, then it’s back to hiding.
I catered to her for awhile, keeping her and all her things in the bathroom, but I didn’t like the litter remnants on the floor, and the bathroom began to smell not like clean and fragrant humans, but like cat. And cat piss.
I will no longer carry food and water to her location, but rather I carry her to the box and the food, like she’s a kitten. I close off all the carpeted areas.

strep4

Our air-conditioner has a problem with condensation. The Mister cleaned out all the pipes, we cleaned the drip tray, the coils are clean, the filter’s clean — the air works splendidly, but water pours out the overflow, flooding everything about. Friday, I called the HVAC guy we used over the winter, and he can’t come out until tomorrow at the earliest. We’ve not used our air since, so Saturday was a sticky sorta day, and we were a sticky sorta people who were thankful that they don’t still live in Georgia.
Today, I woke up cold and it’s cool enough to enjoy hot coffee again. Splendid!
This week is one I wouldn’t run the air for anyway, with highs in the 70’s and low’s in the 50’s. Excellent! I do so love cool, open-window days, don’t you?

giraffeconfusion

School starts in less than ten days, and now we begin the process of teeth cleaning, shots, eye exams, and shopping. These are not my favorite things to do, but at least when it’s all over, there will be seven hours of silence on a regular basis.
Like most mothers, I hate trading in late nights, sleep-ins, and extra snuggles for 6am and never-ending paperwork. But, like most mothers, I welcome the structure and solitude. I pray the bus stop situation will be better than last year…

Tell me, what have you been doing?

Posted in Personally | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

One-Liner Wednesday — Oh Dad!

“She can only see bugs.” — My dad’s hilarious, but panic-inducing joke, while my mother searched for my gray hairs.

it was smooth and straight when i fell asleep, honest!

it was smooth and straight when i fell asleep, honest!

 

One-Liner Wednesdays are brought to you by LindaGHill

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged | 21 Comments

Control Freaks

New dentist’s office sure was weird about the Halcion.

blog4

First, the dentist agreed that it’d be fine for me to have the Halcion and some shots because I do not like the laughing gas.

I know, I’m weird. I hate to be high.

I prefer pain to bein high. I also prefer pain to feelin like things are crawlin on me.

pain

No, Halcion does not get me high.
It prolly gets you high, cause you’re not wound tighter than an eight-day clock, but Halcion for me, is like taking the ultimate edge off.

Maybe when gassed, your brain does groovy shit like shut down and go to a happy place, but mine does not. I would describe being gassed with nitrous like lucid dreaming, but in a nightmare, like “Oh my God, I cannot control my body, although I am completely aware of my surroundings.” It’s just too close to those dreams where you run in place, so you can’t escape the monster, or you’re stabbing the monster, but he just won’t die.

I called the day before my appointment, to ask about how the Halcion would be administered. “Will he call this in for me? Will it be at the office? Can you check with him and get back to me?”
She said she would.

The morning of my appointment, I called to ask how that whole Halcion discussion went down, and the lady said, “Come at five and pick up your scrip.”
“I cannot come at five. That’s why I have an appointment at six.”
“What time can you be here?”
[Lordamercy, is this actually happening to me?]
“Six.”
“Pick it up at six, and then we’ll just delay your appointment a bit.”
“And that will be okay?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Thank you.”

The Mister said he’d pick it up on the way home. I called to let them know. They thought that was a great plan.

The Mister came home, and I said stuff like, “All the dishes are done…Como needs her own box in the bathroom…these jeans can actually be pulled down over my hips if I can’t undo them myself…the girls are clean…your plate is in the fridge…there are cupcakes in the microwave…they can eat all the cupcakes they like…please be sure to talk to them about being angels tomorrow…there’s ham in the drawer if you don’t feel like cookin tomorrow…Sadie just went out…the cats have been fed early…”

care5

We went to pick up my scrip. The prescription directions? Bring both pills to dental appointment.

wouldn’t it be nice to be sedated when one arrives to the appointment?!? and what do they mean both pills? i’m not takin two halcion! fuck all. they’re gonna drug me, gas me, drug me s’more…
I’m very sensitive to medication!

When I arrived at the office, the hygienist saw my prescription bag and said, “Mrs. Mottern, let me take that for you. For safety reasons.”
“Okay.”
I handed the bag to her.

I sat down next to The Mister. “They’re kinda weird about Halcion here.” He nodded emphatically.

I could actual feel my fear. I was buzzin like an electric fence. I counted my breaths and tried not to contemplate how cruel it was to prescribe the sedative and then to keep me from takin it. I waited for them to call my name. Forever. I think I actually had enough time to fear each and every worst case scenario by the time she called my name.

Once I was in the chair, they took my blood pressure. It was a little high, given the fear scenario.
They talked about me like I was not there, or as though I couldn’t hear them, I could not decide.
“Does someone need to be with her the whole time?”
“Do you think she already took something?”
“What if she already took something? What is our liability?”

I rolled my eyes so hard, I saw 1973.

“Y’all are bein weird.”
Then I got an audience.
“No, I haven’t taken anything. I haven’t taken a single medication since Sunday, when I took a Zyrtec. See, I’m used to taking the pill before I come. So by the time I get here, I’m not 130 over 90 because I’m scared to death.”
“You can’t take this medication without supervision. If you’d asked for a Valium, we could have called that in, but Halcion is different.”
“Next time I will ask for Valium.”
(Either the state laws are different, or my dentist in Georgia was a criminal, heh.)
“Someone would beat you down and take this from you! Do you know what kinda drug this is?”
I lol’d.

I made sure to tell the hygienist that I was not to be gassed, and that I was not to be given any Vicodin, or Lortab, or Hydrocodone, or any of the newest names for narcotic things that make me high, and cause me to vomit, then sleep for ten hours.  I told her I didn’t want to take the other Halcion. I would not need two, and the idea of taking the second one would make me very uncomfortable, and that I just needed to take the one, and I would like to make sure the doctor would not make me take the other one.

My anxiety disorder was surely demonstrated to each member of the staff, when, as each of them made eye contact with me, I would again tell them, “I am not having gas. Just the shots. I do not want any narcotics after.” Then sometimes, I would ask them, “Did I mention I cannot tolerate Vicodin? Do you know I haven’t even taken any of the 800 IB yet? I have plenty of that. Did I tell you I do not want the gas? You’re not going to leave me alone in here, right? I’m pretty frightened.”
One lady talked to me at length about my allergies, even though I told her it was a long list…but she got my blood pressure down to normal doin that, so that was nice. I started to think there was at least one person I could relate to.

Finally, they let me take the pill. I made sure they knew I didn’t want the other pill. Like, five times.
When the Halcion started to kick in, and I began to feel it, I felt compelled to announce the whole thing again, “You know I don’t want any pain meds, right? My husband will give me whatever you tell him to, and I will throw them up and then accuse him of poisoning me, and it will be this whole banana vomit situation, because Lortab is another word for Vicodin, and he doesn’t know that, and he doesn’t even know what NSAIDS are, or what allergy meds can be given together, and it’s very important that you don’t put my husband, or me, into that situation, because throwing up is not good for blood clots. You’re not gonna gas me, right? I mean, you’re not using the sedative to get me so loopy, I’ll agree to the gas, right? No gas. Nope. Not for me. Are y’all gonna numb me up soon? I feel like I’ve been here a long time.”

“We’re waiting for your Halcion to kick in so we can give you the shots, since we know you’re nervous.”

UH.

“The Halcion has kicked in. I am not afraid of shots. Not at all.”
“Oh! Okay, we’ll get that goin.”

Good grief, they even put a local on my gums before the shots. I didn’t mind bein babied, but that wasn’t necessary. I’ve never not felt the shots, always been happy to have the shots, because shots mean NO PAIN!

During my procedure, which involved wiggling and cutting and more cutting and more wiggling, the doctor kept sayin, “You’re doin great!” “You’re a great patient!” Afterward, he said, “I don’t even think you needed the Halcion!” I rolled my eyes. I said, “That’s because I’m ON the Halcion!”

Oh for cryin out loud!

Control Freaks.

ialac4

Posted in Personally | Tagged , , , | 19 Comments

One-Liner Wednesday

“I gotta write a thing, then I’ll lie back down.”

cat

One-Liner Wednesdays are brought to you by LindaGHill

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged | 14 Comments

All Your Good Juju are Belong to Me

This last week, I’ve been entertaining my nephews. Okay, that’s not really true, because mostly, my nephews entertain my girls, and then no one fights and I win! I love my nephews. They’re probably better than your nephews.

While I type to you, I’m eatin a huge bowl of long grain and wild rice, and in just a little while, I’ll be takin a Halcion and goin to the dentist to have the now-filling-less, now-broken, already root-canaled #15 tooth surgically extracted. You are all cheering me on, despite what I said about your nephews.
I expect to be sedated and sleeping throughout the evening. I expect to be worthless and pathetic tomorrow. However, I’m hoping I will have the inspiration and the moxie to compose a sentence for One-Liner Wednesday, and perhaps even the capability to make my own pudding. I dream big, y’all!

Your job, Gentle Reader (despite what I said about your nephews, and your obvious jealousy about how I get to take a Halcion and you don’t) is to wish me well. It would not be terrible if you prayed to your god, or lit candles, or bound the dry socket deity, or sent healing vibes, or had your voodoo princess put a wicked fast healin on me. The moon already wanes in my favor.

f7eecc0b579838c6510e7e1a867a4290

Oooh, maybe I’ll have a cupcake before I brush…

 

 

Posted in Personally | Tagged , | 25 Comments

One-Liner Wednesday

“Mama! Look! The hot dogs are growing!”
— Sassy, age 2

cattails-21317330

One-Liner Wednesdays are brought to you by LindaGHill

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged , | 16 Comments

A Theory, Perhaps…

I have this new theory. I ran it by the family on Friday and got a lot of feedback. I’m checkin it out publicly, so lemme know whatcha think.

Men most want to touch women when being touched is the very last thing women want.
For instance, I stand in the kitchen, absolutely furious that I have scalded my potatoes. My husband, being the loving man that he is, thinks a hug will make me feel better. Little does he know, I would rather punch him in the face than hug him. It’s not his fault the potatoes are scalded. I’m not mad at him. I am mad at me, the potatoes, the stove, the water, the pot, and the entire universe — but not him. A hug is not what I want. I want to rage and throw a ginormous fit.
Then, when I begrudgingly hug The Mister, he is offended and goes away in a huff, because he was only trying to help and I’ve rejected his help.
I make cornbread and black-eyed peas. Nothing is scalded. We eat. I feel better. My hugs become real again, because I’m no longer angry.

Women most want to talk to men when talking is the absolute last thing men want to do. 
For instance, my husband comes home quiet. I assume he’s winding down. I think he’s had a hard day, and I give him space. As the night rolls on, he just isn’t talking. He’s not really with us. He’s gone someplace else. Into his nothing box, maybe. Or maybe, he needs to talk. “Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yep.”
Everything is not okay. I’m not stupid.
This could go on awhile, and it could make me crazy.
Now, we’ve been married a long time, so I stifle my urge to pry and freak out, and instead I ask, “Is it me?” It has never been me. If it’s not me, then I hafta just ride it out. Generally, a few days later, we have some long discussion about what he was mulling over. On his time. On his terms.

Men want to touch women when women least want to be touched and women want to talk to men when men least want to talk.

petting-chart
What do you think?

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged , | 26 Comments

Get Up and GO!

At first I wasn’t busy, and then I really, really was. How busy was I? I have been drinking caffeinated soda for over a week! *gasps*

Summer vacation suddenly had too many days with alarm clocks. We kept sayin things like, “We’ll take a nap.” We didn’t. We said things like, “We’ll go to bed early.” We didn’t.

Moo brought home some head lice, which rapidly formed a metropolis on her head. Moo’s head is pretty small, and the lice were forced to expand into the suburbs of other heads in the house. Sassy’s head is much larger, and can provide two feet of curls to hide under. The Mister’s bald and still his head itched. Head lice are psychological terrorists. Does your head itch now? Olive oil days and nit comb nights will not be the highlight of Summer, but the head lice will get their own blog soon.
micelice
Adoption events are held in the morning. You’ll want to get there early.

Cletus the kitten had an upper respiratory infection, so we had to get him some antibiotics and eye drops. It’s not nice to laugh at the suffering of others, but it’s cute and mildly hysterical when tiny kittens sneeze in rapid succession. It’s less cute when you’re picking fleas off of them, so all the cats have to be treated for a few months lest we live in the house of fleas.

Sorry, I just want to make your whole body itch. Apparently.

cletus1

Kittens are hard to sleep with, and as it turns out, newly-adopted Como cat might be five, but she acts like a kitten in the night. She also possesses great talent in the I-can-put-all-my-weight-into-one-paw-and-stab-your-internal-organs arena. Como sleeps in the entryway now, behind a chest of drawers, where no one will bother her with any of their adorable purring, drooling, or kneading.

como1

My parents were in town for awhile. I finally got that walk around the property that I really wanted before we bought the house. My dad kinda knows everything, cause he’s kinda old, and old people are wise. He even knew what the weird black box in ugly laundry room was. A timer. An ancient timer.
I found out that even plant experts like my parents can’t agree on what’s a desirable plant versus an undesirable one. One of my suspected garden weeds is squash, although I didn’t plant any squash seeds. Before they arrived I had been researching “squash-type weeds” and “weeds that look like squash.” Either my tomato seeds were corrupted by squash seeds, or seeds in my compost took the opportunity to sprout. I’m glad those two plants are on the end of the bed, so they have room to sprawl. I’m also glad we love squash and I didn’t accidentally grow beets.
As I feared, I’m gonna hafta dig out all of my ornamental grasses to kill the mulberry seedlings. Bastard mulberries, Man.
Have I ever mentioned my parents wake with the rooster and sleep before nightfall? They do. Without fail. So if you want to have a lengthy visit, you’ll get up at dawn.
We had three wonderful visits, and then my parents returned to the beach. I would prefer that my mother treated our home like sleep-away camp every summer, but it’s like she has a life of her own.

I lost a filling and subsequently broke the tooth, so I had the pleasure of finally finding a new dentist. That tooth had already had a root canal, so the pain was not grueling, but the infection was wearin my whole body down, so I had to get some antibiotics. It’s day three of antibiotics and the lymph nodes behind my ears have already calmed down and my energy has returned. I like to get sick after I go and go and go. It’s my thing.

gogo

Fourth of July parades are held in the morning. If you want to see the parade, you’ve got to drag your ass out of bed and head over before they close the route. Yes, fountain Coke and a bag of pretzels are an excellent choice for breakfast while you wait. Also good? huggin your dog for warmth, cause it was cold in the shade!
We had to have broken a weather record yesterday. It was the coolest Independence Day I can remember. I never even broke a sweat.

sadie
After the parade, we traded Sassy for Ace, but we didn’t really think about how insanely loud Moo and Ace would be after all the parade candy. Duh.

Barbecues with your in-laws are held in the afternoon. If you show up a little late and the food isn’t even on the grill yet, it’s perfectly acceptable to stand behind your hostess’s back and eat an entire peach in five bites. It’s also good manners to join the children on the porch, where you will devour a delicious chocolate cupcake in less than a minute, because littering the patio with black cake crumbs is better than screaming, “I’M FUCKIN HUNGRY, BITCHES!”

url-2

The fireworks are at night, after the sun goes down. It’s not easy to explain the location of your little six-by-six-foot spot in all of downtown Indianapolis. Traffic is crazy. If you don’t know your way around downtown, then traffic is maddening. It’s not easy for people to find you in the dark. We would have watched the show from the roof of a building, but we couldn’t coordinate ourselves with those who offered and the hopes of finding those who were lost.
After the fireworks, we did manage to meet some friends, but there was no way we could direct the lost to join us.
And suddenly, it was midnight!
Don’t you know, The Mister and I got to bed and hadda talk?!?

He managed to get up and go to work today, but all I’ve managed to do is write this blog.

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , | 26 Comments

How to Enjoy Your Facebook in 10 Utterly Complicated Steps

A lot of people on my Facebook complain about how they hate Facebook, but they’re still there. *shrugs*
I assume people who hate their Facebook accounts aren’t using them correctly.
A few days ago, one of my newer Facebook friends said I have great Facebook friends. I do.

GIFSec.com

I enjoy the hell outta my Facebook, and I think you can, too.
*whispers* Lemme tell ya how I do it. 

 
1. Give yourself a few hours. Yes, devote a few hours to working on it. Rome wasn’t built in a day, y’all. The more friends you have, the longer it will take.

2. Check your Privacy Settings. If you are confused about your privacy settings, ask a geek, a nerd, or small child to do it with you.

3. Go through your feed. Any games you don’t play? Click the arrow at the upper right hand side of the box and select “Hide.” Then select, “Hide all from (that game).” It may take days or weeks to thoroughly hide all the games you don’t play.

4. Cull. When you have thousands of Facebook friends, you will miss things you wanted to see. Culling can be difficult, because sometimes, you know you’ll see someone you’ve culled, or you have friends in common with that person, which occasionally means you’re morally obligated to stay “friends.” If you really don’t feel like someone is your friend, and you are not morally obligated to friend them, then unfriend them. We’ll deal with obligation later.

fb5

5. Hide all the obligatory friends whose posts you hate. Like, if you totally never care what Bessie BadNews does, and quite frankly you couldn’t care less if Bessie BadNews finally fell into her half empty glass of tears, then hide Bessie BadNews by choosing any of her posts, clicking the arrow in the top right hand of the box, and select “Hide.” Then select, “Hide all from Bessie BadNews.” This also works for Braggadocious Brad, Coupon Cathy, Dramatic Dolly, Political Paul, and Snopesless Sal.

fb01
6. Restrict. You know how Betty is your mother’s best friend, and she sent you that beautiful Spode platter when you got married, and you don’t wish dear Betty any harm, but sometimes when you post memes with bad words in them, she gets upset, and tells your mother that she wishes you’d wash your own mouth out with soap? Restrict her.
You know how you love your cousin Scott, and the two of you have always been like two peas in a pod, but you can’t stand Scott’s wife? You can’t unfriend your cousin’s wife without having some bad blood, but you can restrict her.
There’s always that one friend who never posts anything ever, and we’re pretty sure he’s not entitled to see your posts, because it’s show and tell, and IT’S HIS TURN. Restrict him.
People who are Restricted cannot see your post unless that post is Public.

Many people from your past are just plain nosy. They want to see how your life is going and then they never speak to you again. Restrict them. Get into the habit of restricting them as soon as you friend them. Some of them have added you to see to whom you might be connected. No one can see who my Friends are, and if you ask me, that’s the best way to be.

fb8

7. Make lists. To make a list, you go to your Friends list, and hover over the box next to their picture. It reads, “Friends,” but that’s where the magic happens. You will place each friend into the appropriate list.
Let’s face it, in real life, if your Facebook friends were visiting your home, you would keep some of them on the porch. Sure, there are some you’d take to bed, or at least hug, but a lot of these people are specifically porch friends.

fb1

You can make as many lists as you want. You can call the lists whatever you like. The people on the lists will never know the names of the lists they’re on.

fb0

You’ve probably got some people who make your Facebook a better place. You love getting together with these people. They post a lot of things you like. You find you miss these people when you don’t see posts from them. These people can be placed in Facebook’s Close Friends option.
Personally, I have a baker’s dozen I trust implicitly. I tell them anything and everything and they’re always understanding and supportive. If I have a problem, I can call these people at any time, day or night. Virtually nothing offends these people, and they never make drama. I would/do invite these people into my home. I share deeply personal things with them. I can disagree with them or even argue with them, and they will still love me. They are my actual friends. “My people.” You need to know who your people are, in case you want to vent about your family, your bowel movements, your struggles with addiction, your never-ending battle with that one long red hair that grows just a little too high on your forehead to be an eyebrow…
The rest of your friends should be left as Friends.

8. Use the lists. Every time you post, the option to choose your audience is available at the bottom right hand of the post. Before you post, make sure the audience is the one you want. Custom Settings are your friend. They’ll allow you to share specific posts with specific people. Your Cat Lovers, Your Bird People, Your Blogger Friends, Your Golf Buddies, Your Antique Hunters.

fb6

If you’re posting about a free yoga class, you might want that to be Public.
If you’re posting about a yoga book you enjoyed reading, you might want all your Friends to see that.
If you’re posting about how while you did yoga, your child counted 18 stretch marks on your thigh, maybe you only disclose that to Close Friends and your mom.
If you’re posting a photo of the stretch marks, you should probably reduce that post to people you’d show your thighs to, like your Super Good Friends and your mom.
If you’re in despair posting about stretch marks while you type drunkenly into your phone from the bar of six martinis after visiting the plastic surgeon’s office, maybe you limit that to your Very Best Friends and your therapist.

Yes, this works. I promise you it works. 99% of my posts, including photos, are shown to Super Good Friends and my parents. And by parents, I mean my biological parents, because children of divorce must carefully tread through social media like they carefully tread through holidays, weddings, and funerals.
If using the audience settings did not work, all three of my parents would be angry about whether I prefer my father’s fried potatoes over my dad’s macaroni and cheese or how my mother’s always trying to make sweets into nutritious food or whatever. Don’t even get me started.

9. Recognize the audience of the posts you like and comment on.

fb7
If you, Miss Goody-Goody-I-only-post-daily-scripture-and-positive-affirmation-memes click Like on a Public meme about sucking dick, WE WILL ALL SEE THAT YOU’VE LIKED IT. The meme will appear in our feed, and it will actually read, “Miss Goody-Goody likes Dick Sucking’s photo.”

If you write a poignant comment about your abuse as a child at the hands of a drunken father on a Public article, all of your Friends will be informed that you have commented on said article, including your drunken father.

If you try to Share a photo that is not Public, you will see a caution blip about the Privacy Settings. You can still share it, but only the people on the original post can see it.
People try to do this all the time with photos. If I post a photo of my daughter, my Friends can see it. If a Friend Shares it, then only our mutual Friends can see it, meaning the Friends I’ve allowed to see it. I’ve explained this to my parents ninety-gathousand times, and I really don’t think they understand. I guess right-clicking is very hard for people over 60.
But think about that…Should you Share a photo of someone else’s child without permission? Should you?

10. Realize that although the Privacy Settings work, there are sometimes glitches, screenshots are a thing, and people can still share your business the old-fashioned way. So if ultimately, you would just DIE if something was seen by the whole world, then it’s best you not post it.

fb2
If none of this works, you should complain about Facebook while using Facebook, or head over to Twitter. Twitter hates Facebook.

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged , | 39 Comments

Black and White and Loved All Over

You may remember that I fully intend to have chickens in my back yard, and how disappointed I was to find out we cannot keep goats in the city? Non? Well maybe you remember that I had two cats and a dog, and I still want a goldfish? Non? Jeez, do you even read these posts?

Well, something happened.

Thursday, I saw Indy was having this huge adoption event at the fairgrounds. The flyer indicated that more than 750 animals had been fixed and microchipped, ready for adoption. It was this incredibly noble thing that people all over the city and surrounding areas took part in. Vets and clinics and rescues and shops and regular people like us all worked together to create this event. I said we should go. (I was going to go.) I said Sadie Dog needed a kitten of her very own. (I am on my way to Crazy Cat Lady.)

The Mister made his face.
If you have a husband, you may be familiar with the face?
It’s the same kind of face he shows me when I ask him which black shirt I should wear and the same face he shows me when I tell him I’m going to repaint the bedroom.
Do you know the face?

It starts like this:

a silent prayer that i'm not saying this thing i am saying?

a silent prayer that i’m not saying this thing i am saying?

And then it turns into this:

"i am made of stone now."

“i am made of stone now.”

So, I got up early, (four HOURS before noon!) and we headed off to the adoption event. Y’all, I didn’t even get coffee until we left. I was motivated. The line was down the building and around the building (they said at least 1500 people.) The last time I stood in a line like that, I got front row tickets.

Anyway, as we entered the building, lines of volunteers applauded and cheered us like we were victorious or famous. It was terrible and awkward and I blushed somethin awful.
Almost immediately, I fell in love with an older female who’d been found abandoned in an empty house, and had lived in the shelter for almost a month. She was so lovable. Just precious. My own cats are seven and eight now, and they’re far from old. I intended to really rescue a cat. Everyone wants shiny tiny new kittens, but people almost never want the older kitties.

rescue
I am a cat person. I can fall in love with a three-legged blind cat with bad breath and half an ear, I really can.
It was instinctual to announce, “THIS IS MY CAT! I’ll be taking this cat home now!” but we had to go look at all the cats, because I have children, and children must touch all the the kittens. Also, I couldn’t effectively communicate to The Mister because some journalist with a camera and a mic wanted to talk to us. More blushing, and silently pointing at husband while looking at a random spot on the floor. Husband said things.

blah_blah_blah

Two hundred felines later, we stumbled upon a crate of kittens who were, without a doubt, more special than all the other kittens in the whole wide world. There was an orange one, who was a feisty talker. I could tell right away that he was mischief. I can’t get down with mischief. There was a black and white one who was a lover. I’m a sucker for the lovers. Yes, yes, teethe on my shirt, claw my hair, tuck your head under my chin. Aww. But the girls loved this kitten even more than I. And Sadie Dog would do better with a kitten. Dammit.

I asked The Mister to go check on the female up at the front. See if she was still available. When he came back, I said, “I want the black and white female and the black and white kitten. Yes, I want them both. That’s what I want.” And The Mister, who is good at pleasing me, nodded. He stayed to adopt the kitten, and I went to claim my cat.

this is cletus. he is 4 months old and no one ever puts him down. ever.

this is cletus. he is 4 months old and no one ever stops touching him. ever.

 

this is como. she's 5 and she hides. alawt.

this is como. she’s 5 and she hides. alawt.

Right now, everyone is hissing and getting acquainted. Seems to be a gender issue. Catticus hates the male kitten, although he watches him constantly. Clara seems to hate the female cat, but hangs out under the bed with her like a feline spy.
The dog. Oh the poor dog. The dog loves everyone, and she just wants the cats to love her in return.

If you’re local, the Indy Mega Adoption Event is also tomorrow, although the demand for dogs is much higher than that of cats, and therefore, the dogs are adopted speedily. Today’s adoptions were Cats 302 / Dogs 219.

That’s a lot of lives saved, and leaves a lot more room in rescues and shelters.

Spay & Neuter Your Pets.
Don’t Shop — Adopt.

 

 

Posted in Personally | Tagged , , , , , | 41 Comments