The Mother of all Cat Boxes

FURRY JERK

2 years ago I made fun of my son and sweet daughter in law for what I deemed the most ridiculous purchase ever.  A Japanese Cat Litter Box.    First I laughed out loud.  Then I internally criticized what appeared to be a really silly wasteful amount of money that could have been spent more wisely on wine and/or chocolate.   Then I'm pretty sure it went for internal to external, like " well that's just stupid".  

Then my asshole cat of 4 years decided that she'd go for the Olympic Stand and Pee record inside her 12.99 Walmart enclosed cat litter box.   Which ran down the sides and through the "sealed" seam.  Which ended up in the tub and may I just say smells fabulous.  Every fricking day.   And then there's the trail of grit the furry midget drags all over creation like Hansel and Gretel so she can find her way back to the crap box if her olfactory nerves ever give out.   And every day I would walk past the bathroom, deemed Cat Sh#t Hollow, and curse the cat, the litter, the tub, bunny rabbits,  unicorns and the dog if she was close enough.    While the AH Cat sat in the hall and smirked.   

Finally I just couldn't take it any more....... and Amazon Prime was sitting there and I kinda recall a bottle of red wine and feeling particularly sorry for myself.  And more importantly there was no one to stop me or witness how ridiculous I was about to be.  ONE-CLICK SHOPPING.    $100.00 cat crap box.   And may I just say IT IS WORTH EVERY PENNY!  

NO MORE OLYMPIC PEEING RECORDS TO CHALLENGE,  NO MORE TRAIL OF GRIT, NO MORE CURSING LOUDLY WHILE TRYING NOT TO BREATHE WHILE CLEANING IT OUT, AND NO MORE SMIRKING C...... well she still smirks.    Furry Jerk.   

And yes, crow is delightful if you slow cook it in an InstantPot.  (curse you Amazon Prime) 

Cat viewing stand

CLICK HERE FOR THE MOTHER OF ALL CAT BOXES

Milk Jug - Murder , Mayhem, Malice

Downstairs - "SON OF A B.........!!!!"


Most evenings don't end this way.  Well, some do.  Mine sometimes.    My sweet husband is an avid health nut.  He's very proactive in taking care of himself.      He watches what he eats and he exercises daily.  He makes sure he gets plenty of rest and drinks lots of water.   All things I've read about in Grimm's Fairy Tales or Healthy YOU magazine.  They're very similar.  Magic Beans, etc.

He keeps track of how much exercise he gets, and he measures how much water he drinks daily.  I, on the other hand, just try to move so my legs don't get tinglely and I drink water when I'm thirsty and there's no red wine.  Or white wine.  Or beer.  Or chocolate milk.  

A couple of weeks ago he started filling up a gallon jug with water that he then pours into a water bottle that he drinks from in an effort to consume some mystical number of ounces a day to reach some optimal requirement of hydration.  I assume.  Unless he suspicious of the water going into the water bottle without it resting first in a viewing area.  I don't know, I'm spit balling here.  It's a special jug.  It came with some magical health powders that tell you it tastes like strawberry shakes but they lie.  I've added ice cream to it and it still tastes like ground up cardboard.    So the water viewing jug has been peacefully coexisting with all the other liquids holding things in the fridge for weeks.  Until tonight.

Downstairs: - "SON OF A B.......!!!"

Him:  [lots of angry muttering]
Me:  ..... what's wrong?
Him:  SOMEONE STABBED MY WATER JUG!
Me:  ....what?
Him:  SOME....ONE....STABBED....MY....WATER....JUG!
Me:    ...stabbed your water jug?   let me see that!

tiny stab wound 

Him:  You just can't have anything!
Me:  ......um, [eye twitching], ummmm it looks melted......[eye twitching]
Him: ALL I KNOW IS I WAS FILLING IT UP AND WATER STARTED RUNNING DOWN MY LEG.
Me:  ummm, [cough, cough],  I think, I'm not sure, but I think I might have accidentally unknowingly kinda sorta touched it with the flaming hot cookie sheet that was full of zucchini fries.  
Him:  You think this is funny!
Me:  It's a gallon jug, it looks like a milk jug, HERE, take this milk jug, it's about to turn anyway.
Him:  You're laughing!
Me:  NOOOOO, I wouldn't do that!  I'm not laughing, I have allergies, and coughing episodes when I'm filled with water jug anxiety.
Him:  You're laughing now!
Me:  Yes, but not at you, or the stabbed water jug.  I'm so sorry, it was an accident.
Him:  You murdered my water jug.
Me:  I blame the zucchini fries , they're the ones that insisted on being roasted on a cookie sheet!
Him:.........
Me:  I'M A MONSTER!!!!

Him: You're not a monster, you just have a unique skill set.
Me:  ....let that be a warning to all your other water bottles.

I'm coming for you :)

how to get your 6 year old to order rack of lamb

Veggie Dip.    Yes, that's right it starts with the right veggie dip.    My husband's grandmother's veggie dip was instrumental in the development of my kids' extensive palates.  From the time they could walk they were shoveling this dip in their mouths with  cucumber slices.  That's also the time I instituted the TODDLER ONLY APPETIZER TRAY.  Because they can be pretty disgusting with finger food.  They became adventurous eaters.   They'd order stuff just for the sheer pleasure of getting to say the name out loud to a waiter.  Think pu-pu platter.  An all-time favorite for my son to order at the local Chinese restaurant.  Or more recently the charcuterie tray that my daughter mistakenly believed was all cheese.  It was not.  But it WAS delicious!  Grammie's Veggie Dip was the beginning.  It's addictive.  And it's a great way to introduce lots of different vegetables like broccoli, cucumbers, turnips, bell peppers, radishes, celery, cauliflower, grape tomatoes, to name a few.  (If you don't make a face or impose your own "UGH" they'll try it - especially if they see you eating it!)    And here it is.

Meet Hazel - Shelly's sous chef.

I always double the recipe and there is never any leftover.  Ever.  Also it seems to freeze well when I make it ahead of time.  Which I find kind of amazing.        Okay here's what you'll need - ( I forgot to put an onion in the picture so go get one and set it in front of the screen. )

A word about B-V.   I can't find it anywhere anymore.  I have to order it from New Jersey from a woman named Carol that must smoke 5 packs of Marlboros a day.  It's from a company called MajorProducts that supplies restaurants.    I order it by the case.    It's that good.    You can substitute other beef/vegetable concentrates for this but I wouldn't.  They'll know.    (by they I mean the blasted kids).  I have a call in as I type to order another case.      

First you want to cream the cottage cheese.  I just plop it in the mixer and let it run and go get the cream cheese.  You don't want it completely smooth , kind of like , I don't know I can't come up with a description just don't over beat it.  If it turns into butter you've gone to far.  Go get bread.  

Now add the cream cheese and let it run.  Stop it several times and scrape the sides and especially the bottom and mix it until it's all mixed together.  But still not butter.  

(Shelly laughing hysterically over a Julia Child joke that Hazel just told her.)

Now add the B-V.  

Liquid gold.  Looks like motor oil.   ( still laughing) 

(darn it Hazel) 

When you spill it you will cuss out loud.  Like " oh darn I just spilled an ounce of liquid gold that Carol just shipped me, darn, darn, darn!"  And then your husband will say " We don't say DARN in this house".  Then you tell him what happened and he remembers what it cost to ship it and then you have to remind him that we don't say THAT word either.  Don't spill it.  Better yet don't try to take a picture of yourself pouring it with a dinosaur and it probably won't happen anyway.  Maybe.

  

Add the Liquid Gold to the cream cheese/cottage cheese mixture.   Now is will turn a lovely shade of brown.  Lovely if you already know what this will taste like.  Not so much if you have no idea what it will taste like.  In fact if you take this to a get-together most people will avoid it like the plague.  Which actually works out in your favor because that means more for you.  We rarely encourage strangers to "give it a try".  Mostly I just agree "why yes , it does look like it's turned!", as  I scoop out a celery stick full.  

Next you want to go straight to the store and buy this knife.  I got this one at a local shop called Bazaar on our town square in Collierville, Tennessee.  You need it so you can enjoy lopping off the end of the onion before you grate it.     Go here - http://www.bazaaroliveoil.com/


Okay, you don't really need it BUT it is a wonderful knife and I love cutting through the onion like it's "butter" [New Jersey accent].   Plus I like seeing if I can cause a run on knife sales at Bazaar.    Seriously, go buy yourself a good knife.  Taste all the olive oils and drink the vinegars.  It's my favorite fun food shop!  

The recipe calls for grated onion.  I use a microplane grater.  It should look like this: 

Scoop up what you need and add to the cream cheese/cottage/B-V mix.  Henceforth known as the STUFF.    Mix it throughly.  Scraping the sides for good measure. 

Add the lemon juice to the STUFF. 

Add the worschesterersereserssssshire sauce.  Yes, that's the correct spelling.  

Mix all the STUFF together.   Taste test! Taste Test! Taste TEST!!!!!

Try all kinds of raw vegetables. My favorite is cucumber! Seriously delicious!  Call me over and I'll taste test it for you!!!     Store in fridge (duh, it's all dairy) . Any questions just ask!    Enjoy!  

Intermittent crying with a chance of sunshine- Part 1

Last month .....


Arghhhhh, I ate too much pasta, my stomach is killing me.
Later that night-    Arghhhhh,  I hate pasta.
The next morning -  ARGHHHHH, I feel terrible, like glass in my stomach.    Bill announces,  That's it......let's head to the ER.

I don't think I've ever really been in an ER.  For myself.  Off we go.  Fortunately it's not that far from our house.  I get checked in.  The pain worsens, I'm thinking appendicitis or kidney stones.  They hook me up to pain and nausea meds.  Ask me lots of questions.  Do a CT.  Kinda.  I have very stubborn tiny veins,  bless the technicians heart as she pushed the dye into my upper arm vein that they had to locate with a doppler machine while Bill uttered the words "Cool", only to blow it out causing my arm to swell up to the point where it refused to bend.  But she announces enough got through to take pictures.  Finds a mass in my female parts area - words of the ER doctor.  Well, that seems vague, technically I am all female parts. Doctor refers me to West Clinic.  A new panic sets in.  ( I'll just go ahead and say everything turned out fine for me.  The doctor and team at West Clinic are the most wonderful people on the planet- more on that later)   And the ER sends me home.

4 days later coming out of my meds stupor I realize that I haven't actually gone to the bathroom.  You know, in a more committed way.  Naturally this is all I can focus on.   I begin to read all the information that was handed to me in a lovely folder when they discharged me from the ER.
In capital letters " NO LAXATIVES, unless prescribed by your physician."
Hmmmm, well crap. ( or not).    Now I'm sitting in my bed , tears running down my face in tired frustration.  I call out to Bill.
Hey, do you think I can take a laxative or something?
Bill:  I don't know, call your doctor.
Me:  You are a doctor person......just tell me what to do.
Bill:  CALL YOUR DOCTOR
Me:  YOU CALL YOUR DOCTOR!!!!
Bill:  Kelly....... just call the ER doctor and ask.
Me:  [mimicking] kelly....just call the er doctor and ask.
I pick up the folder and reread hoping it will say ........NO LAXATIVES EXCEPT FOR YOU , TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT.  It does not say this.     But it does tell me how to access my chart information and ask questions online.  Hmmmm, maybe this is what i need to do.

I go online, set up my account, access my chart, find the part about submitting questions and start typing.   Yes, I realize this probably took 4 times longer than actually picking up the phone and dialing.  Whatever.    I click on the tab for questions.   "Your account in not approved for submitting questions, please call your doctor."   WTH.......why is everyone obsessed with me personally discussing my bathroom habits with a live person.  [more tears]
Okay, where's the stupid sheet of  paper with the  phone number???   I locate it.  "If you have any questions regarding your account please call 555-5555" (go ahead, dial it)
I dial the number.   [more tears]   The line rings and a voice answers.  Hello, this is Paul with Baptist blah blah blah, may I help you?   "I hope so , I was discharged from your ER 4 days ago and , well, I haven't gone to the bathroom and I'm miserable and it's all I can think about and the folder said no laxatives, is it okay to take a stool softener? , and I just hoping you can help me , I'm just so tired, and it said to call this number and all I want to do is poop...... "
Paul :  ........[crickets]..........
Me:  hello?
Paul:  .....um, I'm with IT.
Me:  .....[bigger crickets] ......so Paul, do you get many poop questions or am I the only one?
Paul: oh, you'd be surprised at the questions I get asked, but I can connect you with the desk at the ER, don't worry.
Me:  Frankly at this point I'd be happy for your advice but what the heck let's see if they can help
Paul:  okay, well good luck, I'll connect you.
Me:  Thanks Paul.  ( seriously if Paul had said you should eat rocks and tango up and down the street I would have done it)
Another voice:  May I help you?
Me:  Let's see......

I repeat my story, we eventually come to the conclusion that I'm safe to take some medication, but I'm not safe to be dialing random numbers on a sheet of paper.    Poor Paul.

Next - filling out forms for surgery....... while I thought some of the questions were hilarious the man that drove me to surgery was not amused.

my healing view 

When Dinosaurs Cook.....

Today on "Cooking with Dinosaurs" Shelly looks at make ahead dishes for Thanksgiving  - Cranberry Relish - because who the heck wants that spam-jello on your plate.  Seriously , it's disgusting.  You can do better.  

Here's a copy of the recipe:  Gather all your ingredients before getting started - or you'll just get pissed off when you discover it calls for 'FRESH LEMON JUICE'.    

Cranberry Relish.  It's good.  Don't argue.

Now rinse the cranberries.  Throw out the mushy ones.  Go ahead and taste one.   (hahahahahaha)
Get your mother-in-law's 1957 Kitchen-aid food grinder -  and grind the berries. 

 yeah, they LOOK tempting. If you need to learn to whistle eat a handful.

These are ground.  Not chopped, not sliced, not diced.  GROUND.    There's a difference.


Juice the FRESH LEMONS and add to the ground berries.  I forgot to take a picture.    Good luck. 

This is how they should look after you grind them.  If they don't call someone from your church in their 70's.  After they're done laughing at you and declaring this generation "without a clue" borrow their grinder and ask for a hands on demonstration.   If you don't go to church just go ahead and drive to Kroger and get the canned crap you're used to.

Add 2 cups ( whatever , I think this was a 18 oz jar and I can never figure out the difference between weight and mass but it looks good so let's just go with it, try not to stress , IT'S RELISH) 

Peel and chop up about 4 apples.  I use 2 Granny Smith and 2 Galas.  I like crisp and tart apples.  Stir them in.    YUMMY.  Don't tarry or they will turn brown.   ( Google tarry or go back and ask the 70 year old church lady the definition where she'll pity you for your lack of vocab) 

Although the recipe calls for 2  1/2 cups of sugar  add only a 1/2 cup and stir and taste.  Depending on how tart the berries are will dictate how much sugar you'll use.  Unless you want diabetes, then just go ahead and add all the sugar, you are on your way! 

PREPARE THE NUTS!!!!

Betty Crocker knows how to prepare nuts.   Even in 1959.  Look up "Toasting Nuts" because for some reason I can never remember the best way to do this.   Put 2 cups of whole pecans ( or walnuts, but I hate walnuts) on a baking sheet on 350 degrees for about 10 minutes or until they are heated through.  THEY WILL SMELL DELICIOUS.  Also they are hot - avoid popping them in your mouth unless you like blisters on your tongue.   Get a glass of water because you know you're going to do it anyway.   After they cool chop them.  And add to the berries.   

Nut perfection. 

Keep out predators. 

Stir it occasionally.  Taste to see if you need more sugar.    Get rid of the chicken stock behind the cranberry relish.  Unless you want to kill everyone in your family.  Try to avoid cracking any of Bill's special eggs.    And share it.  For goodness sakes it makes about 9 cups. How much cranberry relish do you think you need????    Thus ended the first of "Cooking with Dinosaurs".  

  

Cooking. Or more reasons to drink wine.

I LOVE COOKBOOKS

Roast a chicken he said.  It's easy he said. 


Me:  hey Bill, come in here and read this to me.
Bill:  ok, where?
Me:  There [pointing fat covered finger at book]
Bill: "to truss the chicken....."
Me:  *%$#@$%^
Bill:  what are you doing?
Me:  Trussing!
Bill:  Why are you bleeding?
Me:  I don't have time to explain, NEXT SENTENCE
Bill:  "find middle of string, wrap around tail and cross over , then wrap around end of legs and pull tight, flip chicken, cross on back.....
Me:  TOO FAST......wait, no , I got it! I got it.
Bill: cross over wings , tie in knot, cut excess

This is why Kroger cooks chickens

Me:  tah dah.......NO....I CUT IT TOO SHORT, LOOSE WINGS, LOOSE WINGS.....

I'll just look at the pictures. 

BILL: .............it'll be fine.
Me:  ..... go get the staple gun.
Bill: .....we don't have a staple gun.
Me: .....Julia would have a staple gun.  Is it too early for wine?

MORE DEAD PET STORIES. ALSO I HAD EYE SURGERY.

I JUST HAD CATARACT SURGERY IN MY RIGHT EYE.  LEFT EYE IS IN TWO WEEKS.  I'M TYPING IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE I CAN SEE THREE STREETS OVER WITH MY NEW IMPLANT, NOT BOOB, LENS, BECAUSE BOOBS DON'T NEED TO SEE, ALTHOUGH IT MIGHT BE HELPFUL.  LIKE EXTRA SECURITY, AND MY LEFT EYE CAN SEE ONLY 3 INCHES.       BECAUSE OF THE SURGERY I HAVE TO WEAR A PLASTIC CUP OVER MY RIGHT EYE AT BEDTIME.  WHICH I MUST SAY IS QUITE SEXY.  IF YOU LIKE NEARSIGHTED PIRATES THAT LOOK LIKE THEY HAVE AN ATHLETIC SUPPORTER TAPED TO THEIR FOREHEAD.  MAYBE THAT'S YOUR THING.    I FEEL I'M MISSING SOMETHING, ONE OF MY "FRIENDS" SUGGESTED A PARROT.  THANK YOU BECKY.  WHICH REMINDED ME OF ANOTHER ONE OF MY LESS THAN SUCCESSFUL PET STORIES.  I'M GLAD MY CURRENT PETS DON'T HAVE ACCESS TO THE INTERNET.  I'M SURE THEY'D RUN AWAY.

YEARS AGO, I HAD A PARAKEET NAMED BEETHOVEN.  I LOVED THAT PARAKEET.  NOT AT DAYBREAK.  I HATED HIM THEN.  CHIRPY LITTLE BASTARD.  HE FOLLOWED ME ALL OVER THE HOUSE, MOSTLY HE WALKED ON THE FLOOR TO PROVE A POINT.  I HAD TO KEEP HIS NAILS CLIPPED BECAUSE HE'D GET CAUGHT IN THE SHAG CARPET AND COMPLAIN ABOUT OUR LACK OF DECORATING STYLE.  WE'D WATCH BARETTA TOGETHER AND HE'D COMMENT ON FRED'S OVERACTING.  ( GOOGLE IT) .    ONE MORNING I LOOKED IN BEETHOVEN'S CAGE AND HE WASN'T THERE.  I COULDN'T FIND HIM ANYWHERE.  JUST VANISHED.  I WAS SO SAD.  LATER, I SAT DOWN ON THE COUCH TO KNIT.  AS THE YARN MADE IT'S WAY TOWARDS MY KNITTING NEEDLES THERE WAS A HUGE CLUMP IN THE YARN.  THAT STUPID BIRD HAD CRAWLED INTO MY KNITTING BAG AND DIED.  NOW I WAS SAD AND HORRIFIED OF YARN CRAFTS.  

IT WAS DIFFICULT TO KNIT AROUND HIM BUT I MANAGED.

HE WAS A SARCASTIC BUDGIE.

LESS CHIRPY.  IN MEMORY OF BEETHOVEN.  

Well, there's good news and great news

Last week my eyes were driving me crazy. So itchy! I don't think of myself as having allergies per se but it was to the point I wanted to rip them out of my head .....but I didn't.

So that lead to a visit to the eye doctor where I am always somewhat shocked to find out I'm over due for a visit.  I'm pretty sure I've been in and he just says that to make me feel bad.

Me:  Hi Doc!
Doc: Hey , what's up?
Me: I think I have an eye infection, they are itching me like crazy!
Doc: How long has that been going on?
Me: ohhhh, noticeably this last week.  It's not bad first thing in the morning but as the day drags on.....
Doc:  hmmm, okay, let's take a look.

( head contraption with light bright enough to blind a person, which may be the goal)

Doc:  Do you smoke?  live with smokers?
Me: No, but if it will help.
Doc: Nah....... well, there's good news and great news.
Me:  That's never the choice.....
Doc:  You are almost legally blind!
Me:  Beg pardon?
Doc:  You have cataracts!
Me:   I'm sorry,  which part is the good news again?
Doc:  No, no, that's actually good! It's so bad now the insurance company won't deny it. Now you can have surgery to remove the cataracts and put implants in!
Me:  [crickets chirping]  ......... really hoping for allergies here......
Doc:  No, this is actually great, after the surgery you won't need glasses for far sightedness.
Me:  So I can stop throwing away my contacts because there is in fact nothing on them like I imagined that last couple of months?
Doc:  That's right
Me:  And when Bill sees stuff on TV I don't have to pretend I see it too so he'll stop rewinding the damn DVR for the hundredth time so I can SEE it?
Doc:  Correct.
Me:  And when he hits the ball off the tee and I can't see where it went I won't have to say " I think it went in the hole THIS TIME" even though there's no way in hell it went in the hole?
Doc:  I'd hang on to that one.
Me:  Yeah, his ego is pretty fragile.
Doc:  So, we'll get you back in for a full workup and send that to the surgeon and get the ball rolling.
Me:  ok,  I'm sure Bill will call you with questions mostly because he'll think I made this whole thing up trying to be dramatic or funny......which is of course ridiculous.    When he does tell him I'm legally blind and can't cook because I might poison him.  It's for his own safety.
Doc:  You're funny.
Me:  Tell him that too.

Yay, summer is off to a great start.

Things "some" people don't find funny.

(I write this stuff because it's cheaper than finding a therapist.  And it would take too long to bring them up to speed.  And I'm just assuming that you have a general idea of what I'm talking about. Which is good enough for me. Also I believe in unicorns. )

Driving to the bank to deposit money I've already deposited.

Cats that eat their golf trophies.

Saying " do you ever get confused while turning off the water? I think I over think this"

Confusing the turn signal with the windshield wipers.
( on the interstate- Bill:  We're about to pass Bob, signal him, there he is!,  Me:  Crap, [randomly pushing all the levers and buttons because of fear of ANOTHER inferior on demand performance], Bill: Great, was that morse-code by windshield wiper?  Me: yes, it was kiss my .......)

Calling his briefcase a suitcase.

Saying "who is it?" when he knocks on the bathroom door.  Every time.

Group texting and I'm the only one texting.  ( apparently this is a universal offense) (sorry universe)

Calling quarters innings.

Speaking of quarters
Not having change.
(Waitress:  That's $5.02.   Bill:  Do you have 2 pennies.  Me: Nope.   Bill: How is it you never have any change?   Me:  The great quarter fight of 1991 comes to mind,   I can write you a check. )

Pointing out tattoos I'd consider
I need an etch-a-sketch body.

When asked where I want to eat and saying I don't care.
When they suggest a place to eat, after I've just said I don't care, and I make a yucky face.

Criticizing his golf clubs. ( like- you clubs better get it together if you want to stay in that bag)

Trying to get fired. Daily.

After saying "what?" the fifth time just pretending I understand what he's saying.
(Bill:   Do you want a ______,  Me:  I'm good.     Bill: Why are you getting a _____, I just asked you if you wanted one?  Me:  ohhhhhh, I thought you said _______)   It really doesn't matter what you put in the blanks, we've covered just about everything, just this week.)

Wondering what our church budget is on rocks. And saying it out loud. ( He was not amused by this at all.) ( also our church passes out visual aids at our contemporary service, rocks, compasses, shiny objects - which reminds me I need to renew the extended warranty on my dryer) ( amen)

Toy dinosaurs.  With an attitude.

Buying an "understudy" purse because I'm afraid I'll ruin the good purse.

Dropping half my steak on the floor at the restaurant trying to be helpful.  I wasn't.
And then laughing hysterically.
Followed by posting it on FB.
While laughing hysterically.
Followed by writing a blog entry.
While laughing hysterically.

Making fun of the phrase "policy and systems" while being asked to write a policy and system for writing a policy and system.  Which is the exact reason I was making fun of it in the first place.  

When asked about a friend's surgery and it involves the word vaginal.

Saying the phrase " it's better than getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick" and then offering to prove it.

Keeping a sharp stick on my desk.  :)

the princess and the pea

new bed.  finally.  being delivered tomorrow.  

signs you need a new bed. 

1. you can't turn over without building up speed. 

2. often you can't see if your husband is in the bed for the hole you're lying in. 

3. you can't remember when you bought it.  

4. the tag you're not suppose to remove left of it's own accord.

5. hotel beds are more comfortable.

 

 and the main reason

6. It's finally his idea.  

But first we had to shop for it.  Which was my idea. Planted into his subconscious every night.  While he slept soundly and I was digging my way out of the mattress hell.  

Bill:  zzzzzzzz~~~~~zzzzzzz~~~~~zzzzzzz~~~~~zzzzzz

Me:  this is crap...

Bill:  zzzzzzz~~~~~~zzzzzz~~~~~zzzzz~~~~~zzzzzzzzz

Me:  argh....... I can't feel my legs........@#@*&$^@*

Bill:  zzzzz~~~~~zzzzz~~~~~zzzzzz~~~~~zzzzzzz

Me:  .........we need a new mattress.......this mattress is killing us......this mattress isn't organic......

Bill: zzzzzzz~~~~~~  snort.....snort .....zzzzzzzzz~~~~~~zzzzzzz

Me:  this mattress is full of dead skin cells.......this mattress will make you shoot over par..........

Bill:  zzzzzzz~~~~~~snort, ummmm,  did you say something?

Me:   "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

BIll:  zzzzzzz~~~~~zzzzz~~~~~zzzzz~~~~

Me:   your neck muscles are seizing up.......you need a physical therapist .......bad mattress....

BIll:  zzzzzz............hey, are you talking to me?

Me:   Are you awake again?  You sound like you're in pain.   

Bill:  I think it's the mattress. 

Me:   ............zzzzzzzzzz

Honey, he's trying to tell us something!

Andrew was 6 and Katie 4.  Andrew had gone to his first Talladega race  with his dad and uncles and grandparents.  Katie and I did not.  Thankfully.  After the race we stayed in Birmingham and met some friends that had just had their first child.  They invited us over for drinks and appetizers.  The mother, and I'll give her a pass here because she was a first time mom and a complete idiot insisted that we move the blender to the deck because "Skippy" was sleeping.   Let me say this again, she asked her invited guests to make their own drinks on her deck. With an extension cord.   Her house was beautifully decorated in one color.  White.  It was probably in all our best interests that we stayed outside anyway.   They did invite us to stay the night.  We politely declined.  1.  Her house was decorated in white. 2. We generally made more noise than a blender.  We checked into a hotel. Which was the best decision that night.  

We had one bed.  A king size bed.  We were so tired we crawled in.  It had been a long day.  A long hot day.    This was the lay out.  Left to right.  Bill , Me, Katie, Andrew.   

Everyone settled in quickly as we were all worn out from the long day.  And the idiot with the blender issues. After a few minutes a  strange moaning sound came from my left.  It was Andrew.  ohhhhhhhhhhh, oooohhhhhhh, ummmmhhhh, ohhhhhhhhh.     I turned to Bill and shook him.  "Hey, hey, listen Andrew is trying to tell us something."   Bill was trying to shake the sleep from his eyes and ears, and leaned up to listen.  "What?, I don't hear anything?"
I said " listen he's talking in his sleep."
Andrew "moooannnnnnnnnn ugghhhhhh"
Me:  What's he trying to say?
Bill:   Oh no, he's going to blow.
Me: What? Blow?
Bill:  THROW-UP !  GET OUT OF HIS WAY!
Me:  What?
Bill:  HE'S SICK, MOVE MOVE MOVE
Me:  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Andrew:  [ frankly it was very close to the re-enactment of The Exorcist with out the spinning head]
Katie : MOMMMY
Bill:  MOVE PEOPLE

The first round took out the king size bedspread.  The second round he made it to the bathroom but it was projectile into the wall and tub.  It was horrible.  After the initial shock wore off we went into major clean and containment mode.  The hotel management graciously exchanged all the wadded up bed clothes for fresh linens. Andrew's color was coming back into his face and he seemed like he was going to be fine.  We determined that Andrew had eaten way too much junk during the race and had paid for it.  I was immensely relieved that we had not stayed with the mommy idiot with the house decorated in white.  There wasn't enough stain stick in the world to remove the damage that would have taken place in her white palace.  We eventually got back into a freshly made bed exhausted from all of the days events.  Especially the last one.

We settled back into bed.  Left to right.  Bill, Me, Katie, Andrew.
A tiny 4 year old  voice next to me cried out " Where's my kitty???"
Me:  What kitty?
Katie:  My little kitty... where's my kitty, she was here....?? (toy kitty)
Bill:  What's the problem over there?
Me: Katie's toy kitty is missing.
Bill:  Missing?
Me:  ohhhhhh noooo,  I think Katie's kitty got taken out with the bed sheets.
Katie:  kittttyyyyyyyyy.......
Bill:  Of course. .......................I'll be right back.

20 minutes later he came back.  With one completely unscathed kitty.  I don't know how he did it.  I know I wouldn't have.  I would have suggested a replacement kitty.  It was a hotel miracle.

I do know that after that we kept a close eye on Mr. Up Chuck at all you can eat events for quite a while. With specific limits on pizza, anything with cheese, and chips.   We never throw out kitty with the dirty linens. And I never decorate in all white.   It's a good system.

Why Men Shop Alone

Last night when I was suppose to be crafting with friends. 
[eating donuts from Gibson's]


Trudy: We should exercise more. 
Me:   Let's all get FitBits together! (FitBits are exercise bracelets that supposedly sync to your computer/smartphone.......supposedly) 
[Best Buy emergency trip] 

Zelda: ohhhh, look at all the colors
Trudy: jeesh, which one, which one? 
Me:  let's get one of each, then order the pack.
Trudy:  good idea. 

[after a trip to Best Buy - where Ricky the cashier was less than impressed by our enthusiasm,  that night while eating ChickFilA IceDreams, which are fabulous] 



And this is what happens when you try to sync 3 devices at the same time to various smartphones and computers while sitting 3 feet from each other. Apparently. 

Trudy:  Mine won't sync
Me:  You're suppose to charge it first. 
Zelda:  No, just put it on. 
Trudy:  I see mine on the computer but not on my phone. 
Me;  Hey, yours is on my phone but not my own. 
Zelda:  Mine isn't working. 
Me:  I think we're cross syncing. 
Zelda:  I've lost weight just doing this. Look 1.9 pounds!
Me:  I think that's me. 
Trudy:  Than it must work. 
Me: Quick hand me a donut! I'll run around the house WITH the donut.
Zelda:  It's very nice of them to send a smaller bracelet because they know you're going to lose weight. Does it talk? 
Trudy: Can I program it to have Ryan Gosling's voice because I'd find that very encouraging. 
Me: "girl, don't even step on that scale...go get a donut now"
Zelda:  Ohhhh, we can be friends on their app!  

[The names have been changed to protect our husbands.  Well not mine, but theirs]  [yes there's  a weekly craft meeting.  They're mandatory]

Crafting is dangerous.  

MOG Land Revisited.

Things that were involved in the wedding.  But probably shouldn't be.

1. rented dress
2. eyelashes
3. chocolate
4. nosebleed
5. runaway drunk guest
6. shrubbery


The Dress :

rehearsal dress - just hours out of the box 

My daughter talked me into renting a dress, actually two dresses.One for the rehearsal and one for the wedding.  Through an on-line company called Rent The Runway.  That I've never used before.  On Tuesday arriving Thursday with the wedding on Saturday.  My daughter has had huge success.  She wears a zero.  I don't think there's any need to explain why she's had success.  So in a moment of weakness I thought "what the heck".  And then 5 seconds after I clicked the submit button I went into panic mode.  I thought " what the hell....was I thinking?"  Plus I had already bought a dress.  Which still has the price tag on it.  Let's not discuss the number on the price tag.  All day Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday I panicked.  Friday I watched for the delivery truck.  Like a stalker.  The doorbell rang.  The box arrived.  And with great trepidation I ran into the bathroom and lubed up so I could get the underwear from hell on before slipping on the dress.  Grabbed the box and read the label.   It was for my daughter.  Which I should have know by the size of the box.  Minuscule.  I'd have to be dead for several days before I could fit into her dress, maybe a month.
It did finally arrive later that day, like 6pm.  I'd lost weight from being in a constant state of panic.  I re-lubed and slipped it on.  Unbelievable.  It. Was. Perfect.  Then I tried on the rehearsal dress.  Perfect again.
I feel I have somehow used up all my cosmic wishes on stars for the next decade but it was worth it.

fabulously frightening

The Eyelashes:
My lovely daughter-in-law to be scheduled a hair and makeup session the day of the wedding.   I skipped the hair part since mine is short and every time someone else styles it I feel like I just walked off the set of Steel Magnolias.  Beehives are amazing.  Just not on my head.  But I did agree to the makeup session.  Because I am paranoid I scheduled a practice session using the excuse " what if I'm allergic to the makeup and I break out in hives or swell up like a blow fish???"  just didn't want to look completely ridiculous, or more ridiculous than my usual spackling of makeup.  And then it turns out I know the makeup person , so now I'm thinking "What if I hate it? How am I going to get out of this?......I'M ALLERGIC!".  With my new excuse in my back pocket I go to the practice session.  She used a spray on makeup, think airbrushed vacation t-shirt.  It was kind of cool. Felt like a fan blowing on my face.  Then moved on to eyeshadow.  She kept reassuring me that because it was a night wedding the colors would be heavier.  Okayyyy. Then she asked if I wanted to use eyelashes..... the bride was and there were short ones or FABULOUS ONES!  I went with fabulous. So few events call for fabulous.  Well, fabulous felt like two overgrown woolly caterpillars trying their level best to blind me.  First the glue fumes were barely tolerable.  Then just trying to open my eyes became a challenge.  One I was losing.  The practice session went great.  According to the makeup artist.   I left and went straight to the office to get confirmation from people I trusted.  Frankly since I write most of their paychecks I'm not sure they can be trusted.  Bill liked it .  A little too much.  Like YOU SHOULD WEAR EYELASHES ALL THE TIME.  Then I told him how much a practice session was and I'd never get them back on myself and I think he's good with once a decade.   That night as I pulled them off my eyelids with what was left of my own lashes he kept asking me why I didn't just leave them on and how long would they last.  I gave up explaining the curling together, blah blah blah.   The real session was nerve-wracking because apparently it's a thing that everyone go together. The entire bridal party.  All in all it was fun and I'm glad I don't have to do that part everyday.   I'm thinking of investing in the airbrush tool though. That might save me some time.

the smallest button loops EVER! 

The Chocolate:
A huge bowl of chocolate.  A white wedding dress. Who knew? The bride was remarkably calm when minutes before going down the aisle she stood up from a chair she had been sitting in to the audible gasps of her bridesmaids who had spotted the dime size chocolate stain on the back of her gown.  The bride"s grandmother worked a miracle with water and her magic fingers removing the spot that had made it's way through 3 layers of dress. Then we all told tales of our own dress mishaps , one aunt had dropped her tube of red lipstick straight down the front of her gown.  My veil barely made it to the my own wedding. This crap is nerve wracking. Which is exactly why there was chocolate in there in the first place.

The Nosebleed:
The groomsmen , best man, minister and the groom were lined up just outside the sanctuary waiting for their cue to go in.  The cue came.  The wedding director starts furiously waving her arms "GO GO GO".
From the front of the line the brides brother is grabbing at his nose. "Oh sh-t".  The minster "We can't go, we have a bleeder!!"" The Director " we need to go now" The Minister " we'll get there if we have to run in like we're storming  the beaches at Normandy!"  Kleenex appears from thin air.  The Groomsman " I'm good".


The Runaway Guest:

She fell flat on her back as people were exiting the reception.  I know this because Bill's uncle stopped to ask her if she needed help.  To which she apparently replied " I can't stand up because my shoes fell off".  She's in her twenties , he's a more seasoned individual.   Him: " Oh, well here's your shoe."  She replied by throwing one leg straight up in the air.  While in a dress.   Him" Oh, okay"  He succeeds in getting her shoe screwed back on her feet. Him" Okay, your shoes are on"  Her " wahh wahhhh, I can't stand up"  Him" ok, I'll help you"  He had underestimated her weight as he later described it and realized about halfway thru gripping her around the waist that he was going to drop her.  Fortunately the fire brigade was watching.  ( the kids had to hire firemen to watch the candles on the tables - maybe next time they need a liquor brigade) and ran to assist the uncle in leveraging her back on her feet.  Now one would think that this was bad enough.....but no......there's more.  As she exited AHEAD of the bride and groom to the waiting limousine she mistakenly believed the guests that were lining the walk with sparklers held ablaze were for her.  And waving a drunken queen's wave she made a dash for the limo, who's door was being manned by the bride's father.   In horror the bride's father realized that the runaway guest had no intention of slowing down. He realized this because as he tried to bar her entrance into the limo she lowered her head and butted him with it.  ( as all this was going on I was off to the side trying to keep my dress from going up in flames from the brilliantly blazing sparklers- because it was a rented dress as in NOT MINE- and so I missed all the shenanigans although I probably looked more drunk than the guest as I was continually swatting at myself for no apparent reason)  Back to the guest.   The bride's father decided this was not the time or place for a physical showdown with this idiot and made the stellar decision to let her dive head first into the limo's backseat.  He did this because the bride's 6 foot forever tall uncle was standing on the other side of the limo.  So as said guest triumphantly waved from the inside of the limo relishing her moment of temporary glory in the bride's father's face, the uncle ripped open the other door and unceremoniously extracted her from the car.  And then she fell face first into the shrubbery.    And this is why your guest list should never be made when you're feeling guilty or responsible for someone else's  happiness.  If you're instinct says this person is going to be a problem don't invite them.  Don't be guilted  into it.  Just say no.  ( I had second thoughts about including this part - but I doubt she remembers any of this as she never apologized to either of the kids or her family for her ridiculousness.)

and even so ......it was the perfect wedding.  It was wonderful and fun and exciting and I'm ever so happy that I got to be part of this- and I'm so very proud of Olivia and Andrew.     And I can hardly wait for the next opportunity to use the word " shrubbery"-- it's such a fantastic word and I just never get to use it enough.    

my very favorite picture

A love story. Sort of.

I met Michael a while back, about a year ago.  I hadn't paid much attention to him, he's rather high maintenance and I simply don't have the time, energy or money to invest in Michael.  Still I coveted his company.   The mere smell of his skin was enough to send me over the edge.  I found myself intentionally seeking out his company, in public venues.  It was for my own protection.  The problem with Michael is it's difficult to be in public with one that others blatantly lust after.  And so I put Michael out of my mind.  And I didn't think Bill would approve.  So there's that.

But Michael came to visit.  And then stay at Christmas.  I began to feel like Gollum.  My Precious.  My Precious.    Ahhhhhhh, nobody puts Michael in a corner, or touches Michael.  I can't take Michael to Walmart, he'd be so insulted.     And that damn cat better not even THINK about getting near Michael.

So I had to start seeing Clark to take my mind off of Michael.  Clark doesn't mind Walmart or Target.  No one tries to steal Clark from me,  in fact woman rarely even acknowledge Clark.  Which kind of hurts my feelings for Clark.  He's so versatile and easy going.  Never pretentious.  Doesn't require any special attention.  Just always ready to go.   I love them both.

At the outlet mall somewhere in Destin

Me: ohhhh, I have to get a purse.
Bill:  I just bought you THAT purse for Christmas.
Me:  I can't take THIS purse into Walmart!!! I wouldn't be able to relax, it's not right.
Bill:  I don't understand, you said you loved that purse.
Me:  I do, I can't believe you bought me this for Christmas, BUT I'm not taking it into Walmart or some fast food place to sit on the ground. I'll never be able to eat worrying about it.
Bill:  You drive me crazy.
Saleslady:  Oh girl, I understand !! I wouldn't take that purse into a Walmart either.
Me:  Thank you!  I'll take that one, I think it's even on sale?
Saleslady: Oh girl, YES, it's marked down from 74.99 to 16.99!!! What a deal!
Me:  Perfect!!!
Bill:  You're all crazy.

Michael - tall, dark, handsome.   Clark - short, colorful, quirky. 

And more Adventures in MOG Land. Part 3.

Once the relationship took an ugly turn with the Spanx incident I decided to seek solace by having a manicure.( Seriously Pat, you don't remember me ?)  Well, this was more a preemptive strike against the sure onslaught of "MOM, you NEED to have your nails done BEFORE the wedding!"  After work I ran over to the local nail salon.  It was late and I was the only patron there.   I don't have my nails done on a regular basis, in fact I can't remember ......oh, wait, yes I do, it was last Thanksgiving and I got a lot of flak from my son because I had acrylic nails and they were really long and very red and I can't repeat what he said they reminded him of.   And then another discussion ensued over his opinion not being needed SINCE I couldn't get them off by that time.  Sadly his opinion was confirmed by his sister whose fashion sense I trust infinitely more than his. Which is why I text her photos of me in clothing or shoes BEFORE purchasing.  And you may remember how well THAT worked when trying to purchase the DAMN DRESS with a broken arm.  If not refer to the earlier post called "The middle part".

"Justin"  did my nails.  After confirming that Justin was NOT his real name, because I ask the hard questions, he convinced me that he could make my feet look just as gorgeous.  We shared a laugh.  Then he said he was serious.  And I was tired.  And the large comfy chair with swirling water was so so inviting.  And so I said yes, but I did apologize in advance for any seizures looking at my toes might cause him and the fact that I had not shaved my legs as this was completely unplanned.  His reply " No worries, I don't care about your legs, maam."  and I said "Justin" I'm Kelly and that is my real name."

The chair is a little intimidating, it's tricky to get in it without falling into the swirling  water.  I confirmed with "Justin" that people had fallen in before.  I'm kind of like an investigative reporter about crap no one cares about. ( this fact was confirmed by almost everyone I live with, including the cat. ).  I sat in the chair and he pointed at things he wanted me to do like put my foot here, move my other foot there, I think it was to avoid further conversation, but whatever.    And then he turned on the chair.  Hmm, this is nice.  Vibrating up my back and neck. Then the chair started moving toward him, suddenly I felt like I was about to have a gynecological exam against my will, this happened about the time he took a stone thingy and ran it across the bottom of my foot.  I burst out laughing and couldn't stop.  I'm thinking I am never leaving.  At this point I think we're officially engaged based on the proximity of my ......... to his face.  I'm talking very little personal space here.  

2 hours later....... our relationship ended.  I think it's the language barrier. I'll never be able to pronounce his name anyway.

Sidenote :   Best manicure and pedicure EVER!  Justin is an artist.  Seriously though that chair is crossing some line somewhere.

Later my family confirmed this was more useless information.  So I have succeeded.

More Adventures in MOG Land. Part 2 . Spanx

STOP IF YOU HAVEN'T READ MY EARLIER POST. GO BACK. ---okay then.

Literally one day later

Me:  Hi Pat!!
Pat: [stares at me like she's never seen me before] ummm, hi.
Me:  I'm backkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
Pat:  Can I help you?
Me: We bonded yesterday, I was the bra-ripper.......I'm back to get that Spanx.
Pat: Oh.

Clearly this relationship meant more to me.

I'm home with the Spanx

Bill:  HEY, did you just buy something at "Rhymes with Williards" for $92.00?  I just got an emailed receipt.
Me:  Yeah, isn't that great that I can email it to you from the store?
Bill:  yeah, great, whatever......what cost 92.00
Me:  My underwear, you know the Spanx so I can get in that dress.
Bill:  92.00..............?????
Me:  Trust me this is NOT an area we can afford to skimp in.
Bill:   Apparently not.

Adventures in MOG Land. Bring a compass. And wine.

As the wedding looms large this coming weekend there have been lots of "things" that needed to be addressed before it's arrival.   Most of them involve my body.  I have no idea why that's just how it ended up.

Needed:   New Bra 

Challenge:  Finding one that fits without actually trying it on.  ( I think you can see I'm going to fail this miserably) 

Site:    Local large department store that starts with the letter "D" and rhymes with "Willards". 

Person in charge of touching me :   Pat from SNL

Me:  Hi .....um,  are you the person ( I haven't decided if this is a her Pat or the other one) that can help me find the right bra? 

Pat: Yes'em.

Me:  Oh, okay, I like my old bra , do you still have this in stock?  The only thing I don't like about it is the back has a tendency to rip when I pull it down.

Pat:  [in an appalled voice] WHAT ARE YOU PULLING IT DOWN FOR? It's  suppose to be up that high .........that's why it's ripping, you're doing it wrong. 

Me:  Of course I am, why would I do that, I'm not sure I'm qualified to wear this anyway. 

Pat:  Well, bad news. That one just got discontinued.

Me:   AHHHHHHHHH, THAT'S MY FAVORITE BRA.....I ALWAYS BUY SEVERAL!!! WHY DO THEY DO THAT?  They discontinue my makeup, my mascara, my lipstick.  I feel violated.  And now sad. 

Pat:  I'll find you some that work.  Let me get the measuring tape we store in the deep freeze . ( I'm sure that's what she said)  

Me: [humming at the ceiling , counting tiles......hurry little woman person whose hands are tiny icicles]

Pat:  Hmmm, you're wearing the wrong size. 

Me: Good lord, again?  You'd think a grown woman could figure out what size bra she wears and not destroy it in the process.  I blame gravity. And Victoria's Secret 

    she scurries out to hunt down and bag the appropriate sizes and varying styles I already know I'm going to hate.
Pat:  Here's the "sizing" bra.
I'm not sure what these even means ----does the bra assign me size or  does it conform to my existing size,  is it like the Sorting Hat from Harry Potter.  "  Interesting....hmmmm , not symmetrical and unusually lowwwww.,,,,, [ it grimaces] you're in the House of Playtex.  Live with it.  [ Hard Hat]
The "sizing bra"  relegated me to exactly NONE of the cute bras on the end kiosks displays.  With wings and feathers and rhinestones the dig into your breastbone but you look so cute and like you're anorexic that you don't care.  Stupid sorting sizing bra.  Nope, I get sent to the corner of the store. The sturdy line.  The Sears Husky.  The Tall Shop.  arghhhh.
Pat:  Here's some.

Twelve tries in we nail one.

Me: Thanks, Pat.  I'll be back when Spanx are in season.  I need to bag one before the wedding.
Pat: Okey Dokey, want me to show you the ones I wear.
Me: nah, let's keep some mystery in our relationship.

Bill didn't find any of this amusing.  He claims I'm killing his fantasies.

.