I'm not going to sit here and try to talk myself up... but let's just say it's important to me to be helpful. Some call it being a kiss ass. But I just like to make peoples' lives easier when I can. No big.
But in order to get my point across about something said to me today, I'll need to give a little bit of back story.
When it gets really busy my manager is pretty good about jumping in and helping. But sometimes it calls for her to make sandwiches. And I know she hates this part - since she does it so rarely it's hard to remember the recipes and you tend to be really slow at it when you don't know it off the top of your head... then you get all flustered as it just gets busier and the line gets longer. So if I've had to step away from the sandwich counter to help at the meat counter for instance, of course I'm going to try to get back to my station as soon as possible. When I do I always offer to take over for her, no matter what stage of the sandwich she is in. And ESPECIALLY when the order is for a certain kind of sandwich that is a p.i.a to make.
She often walks around mumbling about all the work she has to do. Sometimes being very specific about a particular task. I aim to be a problem solver. So I often ask if this or that kind of assistance would be helpful. If she needs to go back to the warehouse for something and I'm not in the middle of something, I'll offer to go. If I need something off the frozen load she just brought up and parked in the freezer unloaded, I might go in there and unload it- since I'm in there removing a box or two anyways.
Etc. Etc. Etc. I'm always right there to help. I do way more than my position describes. I stay as long as she will let me in order to get something done if I am in the middle of it. I'm not the type to stand idle for the last 15 minutes of my shift because I don't have enough time to finish a task I might be able to start. And I don't take one of my 10 minute breaks 15 minutes before my shift ends either. (Yes, I work with people like that!) And I'm ALMOST always available on a day off if she needs me to come in.
Today was a hellish day. We were over in hours so the two ladies we had, besides myself, working the am shift to pump out some catering trays that were piling up were sent home early. Then at about noon my boss noticed that two of those trays were due TODAY and the ladies had not seen them so there were not done at all. She was saying she was going to have to do them herself when she got back from lunch. So I offered to slice the 12 lbs of meat for her while she was at lunch. I had gotten most of it done for her but not all. So in order to make it easy I offered her my back stock of meats that I make subs out of, since it was the same kind, thus her having to cut even less yet. Then she needed cheese. I don't normally slice my own cheese, that's the job of another one of the am ladies. But I had needed it and didn't want to wait for one of them to do it, so I had sliced it myself the day before. I offered this to my boss as well since it was the same kind the trays called for. No big. I'm happy to give it up if she needs it. When she finished taking the amounts of each item that she needed she was saying, 'Here's your meat back'.... 'Here's your cheese back'. So hopefully you can now imagine my amazement and confusion when she then said to me, 'I'm so good to you!'
And I really don't think it was tongue in cheek because she was 'giving me back' MY meats and cheeses. Maybe. I mean, anything's possible. But sarcasm has never really been her humor style. So it really gave me pause. And I really really really wanted to say, 'YOU are good to ME???' But I figured it wasn't worth it. Let it roll. Whatever she meant is par for the course with her. She's the type to tell you that ,'I've made bonuses twice off of you guys.' Yes, with those exact words. '...off of you guys." And then also be the type to not give us little incentives, buy little Christmas gifts, maybe have a yearly party... etc.
Oh well... C'est la vie.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Red's Inspirations: Just say no to bird poop
You can not prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head. But you can prevent them from making nests in your hair. - Chinese Proverb
My take: I love this quote! But I think it would be better if it said it like it is though... maybe something more like 'Bird poop happens but hats are generally impenetrable.'
Our attitudes should be just that...'impenetrable'. Or to break it down even more.... 'I'm made of rubber, you're made of glue...' You know the rest.
My take: I love this quote! But I think it would be better if it said it like it is though... maybe something more like 'Bird poop happens but hats are generally impenetrable.'
Our attitudes should be just that...'impenetrable'. Or to break it down even more.... 'I'm made of rubber, you're made of glue...' You know the rest.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
One man's 'Boring' is another man's bliss
Make new friends, but keep the old. Some are silver and some are gold.
I'm sitting here thinking... thinking... thinking. I've thumbed through all my notebooks that I can find thinking perhaps I will post an old poem. Nope- nothing I feel like sharing.
Think think think.... listen to music... sing along... think think think. Change music. Think some more. Sing along.
I've got it! I just need to turn the music off. Then I will be able to concentrate.
But wait... I love this song. I'll wait til this song is over.
Listen to music. Stare at blank screen. Next song comes on. Stare at blank screen some more. Start to think harder about what to write...sing along to music.
An mp3 player set to 'Random' is worse than reality tv... what's coming up next??? Don't turn it off before you see what's next... wouldn't want to miss anything good right? But it's all good.
Then my husband says to me... "What music is that? Is that playing on AOL?'
I say, 'No, it's my Playlist.'
He says, 'Go to BBC Imusic (or something along those lines) They have 80's, World... you name it. All kinds of stuff. You will find something new.'
I say, "But dear... I don't want anything 'new'. I like what's on my play list. That is why it is on my playlist.'
He says, 'Don't you like to listen to new stuff?'
"No."
'No?'
'No."
"You don't like to just listen to learn about new music you might like?'
I say, 'I'm not adverse to new music, but when I like something... I kind of want to hear it. I search out an artist or a song that I like and read all the lyrics on the albums, listen to clips, etc. I have plenty 'new' exposure. I watch videos. I exchange CD's with friends... but I like what I like and don't see the need to waste very much of my time LOOKING for what I MIGHT like. Simple.'
Seems pretty logical to me. But apparently I'm a bit simplistic for his sophisticated music repertoire.
Am I wrong for only wanting to spend my music listening time on the good stuff? If I had all the time in the world, sure I could easily waste a few hours following links on Youtube or browsing for new stuff, but I prefer to use my time on what I know I'll enjoy. How do you feel about the exploration of music vs. the old faithful, memorable and sentimental favorites?
It's all part of the reason why he hates taking me to Subway. I order a tuna sandwich every time. And I savor how wonderful it is, every time. We go to a restaurant- I order a Patty Melt. He says I'm boring, but at least I always enjoy my dinner. The same can't always be said for him. We order Pizza- he gets all kinds of toppings trying to build up on the flavors and get the most out of it. I order a very basic type- no Sausage, no Salami, no Pineapple, no Tomato, no Green Pepper. You know... just ground beef, maybe pepperoni, onion, olive, mushroom, maybe Jalapeño. There are just certain flavors that are work well together... it doesn't mean you can't like all that other stuff, but you ruin it by over doing it. My pizza toppings choices are pretty much the same every time, and it seems to be EVERYONE elses' favorite everytime too and seems to disappear first. Where as, he is the only one who eats his- and he always partakes of mine as well and enjoys it very much. I always enjoy mine. Now I ask you... who is smarter?
Which makes most sense? New and unusual- but also unproven; or - faithful standby that always gives enjoyment?
Thursday, October 27, 2011
I've Learned...
I'm at an age where I hope by now I've learned a few things and am reflecting on their importance. I actually think I've learned more than what I sought to learn in the first place. And though I've learned a lot, there is still much to know. One thing more recently...I've learned not to judge.
I've learned that when you don't know someone very well... you probably don't know them AT ALL.
Take for instance any musical superstar. You see them and they have presence, style, poise, grace and confidence. You sing their lyrics and secretly wish you could don their 'look'. Everything they do is golden.
And then the reality hits and the paparazzi have made millions off their 'stars-with-no-make-up' and or 'who's-cellulite-is-this-on-the-beach' snapshots at 96% zoom.
If this changes your opinion of a superstar... then
A: you're pretty shallow
B: just wait until you find out that it took an entire entourage of professionals just to ensure you would have these wonderful opinions in the first place. From personal stylists, to entire professional hair and make up crews, to writers and lyricists; the end result is an illusion worthy of Houdini.
Sometimes it's our own eagerness to believe so completely in what is presented to us. We project onto them a greatness born only of our own imagination.
Take for instance a talented young songstress by the name of Jessica Andrews. Quite a while back on her debut album she sang an all-American-girl kind of song called 'Who I am'. A song about a girl who is unique with quirks and imperfections, and the love her friends and family have for her regardless. One particular line of the song says, '... I am Rosemary's Granddaughter, spitting image of my father...'. Jessica Andrews found herself explaining in many interviews that, no, her Grandmother's name is not Rosemary. It's just a song! Many people felt duped at this revelation.
It was just a song, people. A series of words and phrases cleverly and poetically put to music. Although she did personally pen many of the lyrics on the album... you can not judge a singer by their hit single alone. And that is pretty much the whole point, isn't it? How many times have you been surprised to find out an interesting tidbit of music trivia that turned what you always thought you knew about someone on it's nose? With the proliferation of the internet, we often know way more than we want about famous people. An image of perfection is shattered everyday.
And then there are images that belie the perfection within. Case in point: I've become a big fan of the musical artist Pink. She's been around for a while, but I always ignored the rebellious pink haired newcomer. It wasn't until recently that one particularly catchy song peaked my interest in the rest of her music. When I dug a little deeper I felt I'd found a gold mine. I've since watched her life history play out on biography shows. I've found that she is about as real as any person can get. I truly get this sense. Everything she puts out there, from her pink hair to her music... that's who she is. Nothing about her feels like a gimmick when you see the whole picture. And in the end I found myself in awe of her talents. Her voice is a multifaceted jewel. Her abilities span a wide variety of styles and she is more than exceptional at them all. But you wouldn't know it if you didn't see beyond the rough and rebellious image.
I used to get wrapped up in political judgments against entertainers. 'How can they believe such a thing?! Well! I won't be listening to their music anymore!' But the reality is, I laughed at their comedy before I knew their political stance. I sang along with their tunes before I knew they were non believers. Nothing about what they put out for our entertainment changes in quality or concept. Singing along doesn't pay them royalties. I judge not the person, nor the product they produce. Granted, I may not choose to SUPPORT them by purchasing their product. I mean... I do have SOME scruples. But to support a small business selling it second hand... sure. And I certainly don't feel guilty to be enjoying it as it is played on the radio. I can often just listen to a song or two I like online with out paying for any of it and you certainly don't have to pay for an entire album. Regardless of how you do it, you can't really deny that the product is just that... a product. And is as enjoyable still as it was before. No matter what bad things you want to say about the artist or performer, you are still gonna be bopping your little head around when that catchy joy filled tune fills the air and don't bother kicking yourself and feeling 2 inches high when that opposite-winged comedian says something that makes you giggle.
On a personal note, I'm sure I have been judged with all kinds of misinterpretations. For instance, a quick glance at my Facebook page and you will see a myriad of comments and posts by my most active 'friends'... who also happen to be of the 'mystical' mind set. Universal love and something called 'starseeds' abound. Honestly, I know nothing of this realm and it's not 'me' at all. But we all come together in support of each other as positive thinking people. Having been part of a now defunct ezine called Angels Weekly brings me in contact with an untold number of self affirming, open minded, and giving individuals whose only desire is to share their world... and talk to angels or something. I can't slight anyone for that. We all just have to realize that the most striking mosaics are made up of contrasting and unexpected pieces.
I myself have always been anti labels. But sometimes when people insist on categorizing me... as lets say- a short tempered redhead... I go ahead and give them what they want. I remind them that not only am I a redhead, but I am a woman AND a Scorpio. I think this is supposed to make them shake in their boots or something. But their illusion of impending doom is really not necessary. There are deeper truths than those of the surface.
I, in fact, have a slow burning temper. Sometimes surprisingly, not one at all. I'm more tom-boy than 'woman'. And I don't prescribe to the myth and magic of horoscopes any more than for what they offer in entertainment. And like other forms of entertainment and entertainers, I don't hold their various wrongs against their product.
There is so much to know about people that it's a rarity to really know all there is to know. To assume that you do... well- we all know how that story ends.
I've learned that when you don't know someone very well... you probably don't know them AT ALL.
Take for instance any musical superstar. You see them and they have presence, style, poise, grace and confidence. You sing their lyrics and secretly wish you could don their 'look'. Everything they do is golden.
And then the reality hits and the paparazzi have made millions off their 'stars-with-no-make-up' and or 'who's-cellulite-is-this-on-the-beach' snapshots at 96% zoom.
If this changes your opinion of a superstar... then
A: you're pretty shallow
B: just wait until you find out that it took an entire entourage of professionals just to ensure you would have these wonderful opinions in the first place. From personal stylists, to entire professional hair and make up crews, to writers and lyricists; the end result is an illusion worthy of Houdini.
Sometimes it's our own eagerness to believe so completely in what is presented to us. We project onto them a greatness born only of our own imagination.
Take for instance a talented young songstress by the name of Jessica Andrews. Quite a while back on her debut album she sang an all-American-girl kind of song called 'Who I am'. A song about a girl who is unique with quirks and imperfections, and the love her friends and family have for her regardless. One particular line of the song says, '... I am Rosemary's Granddaughter, spitting image of my father...'. Jessica Andrews found herself explaining in many interviews that, no, her Grandmother's name is not Rosemary. It's just a song! Many people felt duped at this revelation.
It was just a song, people. A series of words and phrases cleverly and poetically put to music. Although she did personally pen many of the lyrics on the album... you can not judge a singer by their hit single alone. And that is pretty much the whole point, isn't it? How many times have you been surprised to find out an interesting tidbit of music trivia that turned what you always thought you knew about someone on it's nose? With the proliferation of the internet, we often know way more than we want about famous people. An image of perfection is shattered everyday.
And then there are images that belie the perfection within. Case in point: I've become a big fan of the musical artist Pink. She's been around for a while, but I always ignored the rebellious pink haired newcomer. It wasn't until recently that one particularly catchy song peaked my interest in the rest of her music. When I dug a little deeper I felt I'd found a gold mine. I've since watched her life history play out on biography shows. I've found that she is about as real as any person can get. I truly get this sense. Everything she puts out there, from her pink hair to her music... that's who she is. Nothing about her feels like a gimmick when you see the whole picture. And in the end I found myself in awe of her talents. Her voice is a multifaceted jewel. Her abilities span a wide variety of styles and she is more than exceptional at them all. But you wouldn't know it if you didn't see beyond the rough and rebellious image.
I used to get wrapped up in political judgments against entertainers. 'How can they believe such a thing?! Well! I won't be listening to their music anymore!' But the reality is, I laughed at their comedy before I knew their political stance. I sang along with their tunes before I knew they were non believers. Nothing about what they put out for our entertainment changes in quality or concept. Singing along doesn't pay them royalties. I judge not the person, nor the product they produce. Granted, I may not choose to SUPPORT them by purchasing their product. I mean... I do have SOME scruples. But to support a small business selling it second hand... sure. And I certainly don't feel guilty to be enjoying it as it is played on the radio. I can often just listen to a song or two I like online with out paying for any of it and you certainly don't have to pay for an entire album. Regardless of how you do it, you can't really deny that the product is just that... a product. And is as enjoyable still as it was before. No matter what bad things you want to say about the artist or performer, you are still gonna be bopping your little head around when that catchy joy filled tune fills the air and don't bother kicking yourself and feeling 2 inches high when that opposite-winged comedian says something that makes you giggle.
On a personal note, I'm sure I have been judged with all kinds of misinterpretations. For instance, a quick glance at my Facebook page and you will see a myriad of comments and posts by my most active 'friends'... who also happen to be of the 'mystical' mind set. Universal love and something called 'starseeds' abound. Honestly, I know nothing of this realm and it's not 'me' at all. But we all come together in support of each other as positive thinking people. Having been part of a now defunct ezine called Angels Weekly brings me in contact with an untold number of self affirming, open minded, and giving individuals whose only desire is to share their world... and talk to angels or something. I can't slight anyone for that. We all just have to realize that the most striking mosaics are made up of contrasting and unexpected pieces.
I myself have always been anti labels. But sometimes when people insist on categorizing me... as lets say- a short tempered redhead... I go ahead and give them what they want. I remind them that not only am I a redhead, but I am a woman AND a Scorpio. I think this is supposed to make them shake in their boots or something. But their illusion of impending doom is really not necessary. There are deeper truths than those of the surface.
I, in fact, have a slow burning temper. Sometimes surprisingly, not one at all. I'm more tom-boy than 'woman'. And I don't prescribe to the myth and magic of horoscopes any more than for what they offer in entertainment. And like other forms of entertainment and entertainers, I don't hold their various wrongs against their product.
There is so much to know about people that it's a rarity to really know all there is to know. To assume that you do... well- we all know how that story ends.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Introducing... my kitty flock.
I recently visited someone's blog strictly on the open invitation to come take a look at their cat picture they posted. And I thought to myself... 'You know... I should really do a post that includes pictures of all our cats and then when I mention them later, there will be a pic to reference." I figure, they are a pretty big part of our lives so why not dedicate a post just to them?
And here's how the story goes...
Husband and wife spend all their lives with dogs. Husband and wife move into apartment...no more dogs.
( Cats ok!) Husband keeps bringing home people's unwanted cats... cats pee in corners and run away. Wife says NO MORE CATS.
Husband finds fluffy little cream puff scared out of it's wits in the mens restroom at Burger King. Husband sneaks irresistible cream puff out of restaurant in jacket, feeds hamburger to cream puff and brings home. Cream puff is an itty bitty ball of adorable. Wife gives in. ( Poor cream puff wants his mommy so bad he looses his voice mewing constantly for her.)
1 yr later daughter is born... cat thinks baby is noisy intruder that smells weird... she makes him nervous. Not to mention the ultimate slap in the face: getting kicked out of the new and really awesome cat bed that Mom and Dad call a 'bassinet', only to discover that said noisy stinky creature gets to sleep in it! Cat tude in high gear for pretty much ever now. Daughter grows up a little, senses cat tude... wants her own cat to love and be loved by... unlike Mr. Aloof With An Attitude. Officially known as 'BK'.
Mom and Dad look at little curly headed ball of irresistible adorableness known as their daughter and say 'Yes, you can have that female kitten.' Daughter names kitten 'Nine tails' after favorite Pokemon character.
Female kitten grows up so fast, becomes boy crazy. Mom and Dad? = Clueless to how girl cats can be. Girl cat becomes woman cat... then momma cat. Momma cat has 5 babies. 4 black, 1 white. 1: Snowbell- cuz she was white and we had just watched Stuart Little 2: Cutie Kitty- because we couldn't ever think of anything else and her temporary name was all she ever got but is absolutely perfect for her 3: Tomalina- because Dad wanted to name a girl cat 'Tom' (following in the long tradition of obvious and opposite names... ie a cat named mouse, a dog named deogie, etc.) so my daughter and I compromised on Tomalina- Tom for short 4: Foxy- because the temporary name of 'Alien guy' just wasn't cutting it and she had huge ears like a fox, was very dainty and had a curly stubby tail 5: Bob-a fat black little thing with bob tail.
Momma cat - still nursing- gets bored... boy crazy again. Eventually white kitten finds home, black kittens... not so much. Bob passes away... apparently from eating litter from its' training litter box. Momma didn't seem to feed them very well. Could have something to do with being so young and or being pregnant! And then more black kittens.
Meanwhile,the empty house next door is being remodeled. When foundation people remove porches in order to add foundation, two blue eyed creamy manx kitties were found. Foundation workers ask us to love and protect these babies if possible. How can you say 'No'? The momma cat was half feral but would come in to nurse the two and leave until next feeding.'Grrr' found a home, Zim was at home.
Ninetails delivers her second litter... 6 this time. 1: Tuffy - a massive fluffy Tuxedo boy. 2: Holly Bush -it was partially a political thing and partially because Santa's Little Helper was already taken by the dog on Simpsons. Holly was the only girl and a twin to Tuffy... except very thin and dainty. 3: Bimmer - cuz Dad dreams of having a BMW someday 4: Mag - A tuxedo twin to Bimmer 5: Winky - pure black, slim, curly stub tail, and we had recently watched that Disney series Return to Magic Mountain. Winky was identical to his half sister from the first litter, Foxy. Winky didn't like being compared all the time and ran away. Actually, they all used to follow kids down to the corner when they walked by after school. I like to think one of them stole him and he now happily dwells with one of them. 6: Knuckles- cuz my daughter was also a Sonic The Hedgehog fan, and he just had that cool cat large and in charge attitude.
Then there was the orphan, the unnamed, very beaten up, half alive kitten that showed up on our porch one day. We don't know if a person, knowing we had other kittens, put it there or if Grr and Zim's momma brought it to us- it kind of looked like hers. Dad got some kitten formula and tried to bottle feed it... but it refused. So he then put it in with Nine Tails second litter and hoped she would adopt it. But it seemed her kittens had other ideas as they turned cannibalistic on it. Pretty crazy huh? In my heart of hearts I believe it was because of the kitten formula that they could smell all over it. I refuse to believe they disliked the new guy so much that they wanted to attempt to eat it's face off. Hubby rushed it to the emergency vet, but let them know, 'hey- this ain't my cat but it needs medical attention'. They swiped it away and refused to let him know anything about it there after since he wasn't paying it's surgery bill.
A couple years later Bimmer and Mag were both hit by cars. A few years after that Nine Tails took ill and died. A while after that we almost lost Cutie Kitty to the same symptoms so we reacted faster and took her in. She had a rare illness that required surgery. We tried antibiotics and 3 days of overnight vet care, but eventually surgery had to be performed. $800 bill later she is the sweetest most affectionate most loving cat ever today. Then Tom started showing the same symptoms and knowing it required the same surgery as a spay we just had her spayed and she was fine. A year or so later Foxy passed. She was always the skinny little runt with the runny nose and chronic diarrhea . We had taken her in and they tested everything but found her to be in great health... with only an allergy to fleas and an unspecified food allergy. And then only months later... for whatever reason...she went quick. But I like to think she is more at peace over the rainbow bridge than she ever was here on earth with all her issues.
Holly got lucky and had just had a recent vet visit, including a spay and deworming, when a co-worker wanted a young cat for her son. So now today... we 'ONLY' have 6 cats. Cutie Kitty, Tomalina, Tuffy, Zim, Knuckles and our 14 yr old 'old man', BK. We never were cat people. But we did love having pets so at the times in our lives when we lived in apartments and could only have cats, cats it was. But 'A' cat. One of the first houses we lived in we had 3 cats and a dog. But that was the most ever. And I still don't call myself 'a cat person'. But each one of them has grown on me in a different way and I do love the little buggers. Granted, if one day my daughter said she didn't want them anymore and it was ok if we found them homes else where, I'd be all over that! At least for 4 or five of them. :-) And then I would get the biggest dog I could. Is that terrible of me?
And here's how the story goes...
Husband and wife spend all their lives with dogs. Husband and wife move into apartment...no more dogs.
( Cats ok!) Husband keeps bringing home people's unwanted cats... cats pee in corners and run away. Wife says NO MORE CATS.
Husband finds fluffy little cream puff scared out of it's wits in the mens restroom at Burger King. Husband sneaks irresistible cream puff out of restaurant in jacket, feeds hamburger to cream puff and brings home. Cream puff is an itty bitty ball of adorable. Wife gives in. ( Poor cream puff wants his mommy so bad he looses his voice mewing constantly for her.)
1 yr later daughter is born... cat thinks baby is noisy intruder that smells weird... she makes him nervous. Not to mention the ultimate slap in the face: getting kicked out of the new and really awesome cat bed that Mom and Dad call a 'bassinet', only to discover that said noisy stinky creature gets to sleep in it! Cat tude in high gear for pretty much ever now. Daughter grows up a little, senses cat tude... wants her own cat to love and be loved by... unlike Mr. Aloof With An Attitude. Officially known as 'BK'.
Mom and Dad look at little curly headed ball of irresistible adorableness known as their daughter and say 'Yes, you can have that female kitten.' Daughter names kitten 'Nine tails' after favorite Pokemon character.
Female kitten grows up so fast, becomes boy crazy. Mom and Dad? = Clueless to how girl cats can be. Girl cat becomes woman cat... then momma cat. Momma cat has 5 babies. 4 black, 1 white. 1: Snowbell- cuz she was white and we had just watched Stuart Little 2: Cutie Kitty- because we couldn't ever think of anything else and her temporary name was all she ever got but is absolutely perfect for her 3: Tomalina- because Dad wanted to name a girl cat 'Tom' (following in the long tradition of obvious and opposite names... ie a cat named mouse, a dog named deogie, etc.) so my daughter and I compromised on Tomalina- Tom for short 4: Foxy- because the temporary name of 'Alien guy' just wasn't cutting it and she had huge ears like a fox, was very dainty and had a curly stubby tail 5: Bob-a fat black little thing with bob tail.
Momma cat - still nursing- gets bored... boy crazy again. Eventually white kitten finds home, black kittens... not so much. Bob passes away... apparently from eating litter from its' training litter box. Momma didn't seem to feed them very well. Could have something to do with being so young and or being pregnant! And then more black kittens.
Meanwhile,the empty house next door is being remodeled. When foundation people remove porches in order to add foundation, two blue eyed creamy manx kitties were found. Foundation workers ask us to love and protect these babies if possible. How can you say 'No'? The momma cat was half feral but would come in to nurse the two and leave until next feeding.'Grrr' found a home, Zim was at home.
Ninetails delivers her second litter... 6 this time. 1: Tuffy - a massive fluffy Tuxedo boy. 2: Holly Bush -it was partially a political thing and partially because Santa's Little Helper was already taken by the dog on Simpsons. Holly was the only girl and a twin to Tuffy... except very thin and dainty. 3: Bimmer - cuz Dad dreams of having a BMW someday 4: Mag - A tuxedo twin to Bimmer 5: Winky - pure black, slim, curly stub tail, and we had recently watched that Disney series Return to Magic Mountain. Winky was identical to his half sister from the first litter, Foxy. Winky didn't like being compared all the time and ran away. Actually, they all used to follow kids down to the corner when they walked by after school. I like to think one of them stole him and he now happily dwells with one of them. 6: Knuckles- cuz my daughter was also a Sonic The Hedgehog fan, and he just had that cool cat large and in charge attitude.
Then there was the orphan, the unnamed, very beaten up, half alive kitten that showed up on our porch one day. We don't know if a person, knowing we had other kittens, put it there or if Grr and Zim's momma brought it to us- it kind of looked like hers. Dad got some kitten formula and tried to bottle feed it... but it refused. So he then put it in with Nine Tails second litter and hoped she would adopt it. But it seemed her kittens had other ideas as they turned cannibalistic on it. Pretty crazy huh? In my heart of hearts I believe it was because of the kitten formula that they could smell all over it. I refuse to believe they disliked the new guy so much that they wanted to attempt to eat it's face off. Hubby rushed it to the emergency vet, but let them know, 'hey- this ain't my cat but it needs medical attention'. They swiped it away and refused to let him know anything about it there after since he wasn't paying it's surgery bill.
A couple years later Bimmer and Mag were both hit by cars. A few years after that Nine Tails took ill and died. A while after that we almost lost Cutie Kitty to the same symptoms so we reacted faster and took her in. She had a rare illness that required surgery. We tried antibiotics and 3 days of overnight vet care, but eventually surgery had to be performed. $800 bill later she is the sweetest most affectionate most loving cat ever today. Then Tom started showing the same symptoms and knowing it required the same surgery as a spay we just had her spayed and she was fine. A year or so later Foxy passed. She was always the skinny little runt with the runny nose and chronic diarrhea . We had taken her in and they tested everything but found her to be in great health... with only an allergy to fleas and an unspecified food allergy. And then only months later... for whatever reason...she went quick. But I like to think she is more at peace over the rainbow bridge than she ever was here on earth with all her issues.
Holly got lucky and had just had a recent vet visit, including a spay and deworming, when a co-worker wanted a young cat for her son. So now today... we 'ONLY' have 6 cats. Cutie Kitty, Tomalina, Tuffy, Zim, Knuckles and our 14 yr old 'old man', BK. We never were cat people. But we did love having pets so at the times in our lives when we lived in apartments and could only have cats, cats it was. But 'A' cat. One of the first houses we lived in we had 3 cats and a dog. But that was the most ever. And I still don't call myself 'a cat person'. But each one of them has grown on me in a different way and I do love the little buggers. Granted, if one day my daughter said she didn't want them anymore and it was ok if we found them homes else where, I'd be all over that! At least for 4 or five of them. :-) And then I would get the biggest dog I could. Is that terrible of me?
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| Knuckles poses like no other cat ever. |
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| He seems half the size of her. Maybe it's all that BBQ? |
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| Tom... practicing her DJ moves. |
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| Grumpy Old Man... BK |
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| Ol' Blue Eyes.... Zim. My Zimmie boy! |
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| Zim flicks and twirls his 'tail' like he thinks he has one. Cutest thing ever. |
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| Cutie Kitty being... Cute. |
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| Tuffy being... Lazy. |
Friday, October 7, 2011
Falling for Fall
I do know that as much as I hate the cold, and consider it one of the must uncomfortable things to experience, I really hate being in oppressive heat even more. Most people see summer as a time to get out of the house and be active. But there is nothing that will turn me into a slug more than a day over 80 degrees.
Wait, I lied. A cold house will do that just as well. But I actually enjoy the remedies available to warm up...Hot Chocolate, Russian Tea, flavored coffee, soups, stews and roasts, warm sweaters, fuzzy socks, and fireplaces, cozy blankets and a warm heart lying next to you. These things are part of a perfect world.
Granted, 4am mornings from October to March pretty much suck. Maybe I am just too cheap to keep the house at a constant cozy 75 degrees. Maybe I just need to be rich. Then I could afford $300 a month heating bills in the cool months and $300 cooling bills in the hot ones. Better yet, if I was rich... I wouldn't have to drag my goose pimply butt out of bed and around the cold house at 4 am at all. Problem solved.
But alas, my prospects are dim and the current lottery odds are.... let's just say, 'not in my favor'.
So instead, put on those flannel pj pants, your lover's favorite old sweatshirt that's now yours, grab a cup of Russian Tea and a couch blankie and revel in the perfectness of the moment at hand.
What is Russian Tea you say? Oh my, you are missing out! It's like hot apple cider but with orange instead of apple and tea instead of cider and all the clove, cinnamon and nutmeg you could want on a perfect autumn day. Yes, it leaves an interesting plethora of spices at the bottom of your cup, but oh how delicious and warming it is going down! Try it.
You'll love it. :-)
Russian Tea:
1 jar of Tang instant orange drink ( 1 lb 2 oz is the size I have found and use)
1 package Wylers instant Lemonade mix, * Koolaid brand packets work as well, but Wylers seems to have the best flavor punch - if you can find it.
1 cup instant Tea- * in a pinch Lemon flavored tea will help to replace the lemon drink mix if unavailable... cuz sometimes you just got to have some Russian Tea and can't make it to the store.
*1/2 - 2/3 cup sugar - * this was originally part of this recipe but I actually omit it. There is plenty of sugar in the Tang already to make this a sweet enough drink.
2 tsp. Cinnamon
1 tsp. Ground Cloves
1 tsp. Nutmeg
Use 2 to 3 ( I use 3 heaping in a good sized cup- add more or less to taste and strength preference)
Add to boiling water
***Probably the most important part of these instructions is that you either use a gallon size zipper bag to mix and store OR dedicate a Tupperware or glass jar to only belong to your Russian Tea mix. The spices will tend to linger in anything you use.
Now...sip or slurp to your cozy little hearts content!
Friday, September 9, 2011
9/11.... I was there.
Every year around this time, its common to see the question asked, 'Where were you on Sept. 11?
Where was I?
I was there.
You don't get that answer very often do you?
Ok, I wasn't any where near the Twin Towers or even in New York at all. But I was in Washington D.C.
Where was I?
I was there.
You don't get that answer very often do you?
Ok, I wasn't any where near the Twin Towers or even in New York at all. But I was in Washington D.C.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Why?
Why- when you know why and all the logic is there, do we still react in the ways that we do?
Why- when you have first hand knowledge of how it feels to be in a situation do we put our self or others in said situation?
Why- don't we have the means to rise above our human natures when we are very well aware of our own very human natures and what it is that makes us how we are and why we react the way we do?
Why are we weak to the things that bring us turmoil when we know it isn't necessary to feel that way and that it's just a matter of understanding needed.
But- we understand. We do. We've been there. Of course we understand. Of course I understand. I don't know much of anything right now, but I understand that I just need to understand.
Why is it not through understanding, that we learn from our mistakes?
Why does the propensity to make mistakes and or create MISunderstandings still exist and live it's self out groundhog's day style?
Why can't we succeed after all the lessons are taught and learned?
Why does the knowledge lie there as useless as a limp noodle?
It can not even lure the bluebird of happiness to us with out our own intervention of shaking and jostling.
Any why then, in an effort to do so, do we shake up and jostle our fragile worlds into vague memories of happiness caught in a net?
Why so many holes?
Why so much space between?
And why is there no light coming through all those holes and spaces?
Since when does the blue bird of happiness fly in the dark?
And since when do we not even know what anything means anymore?
Why- when you have first hand knowledge of how it feels to be in a situation do we put our self or others in said situation?
Why- don't we have the means to rise above our human natures when we are very well aware of our own very human natures and what it is that makes us how we are and why we react the way we do?
Why are we weak to the things that bring us turmoil when we know it isn't necessary to feel that way and that it's just a matter of understanding needed.
But- we understand. We do. We've been there. Of course we understand. Of course I understand. I don't know much of anything right now, but I understand that I just need to understand.
Why is it not through understanding, that we learn from our mistakes?
Why does the propensity to make mistakes and or create MISunderstandings still exist and live it's self out groundhog's day style?
Why can't we succeed after all the lessons are taught and learned?
Why does the knowledge lie there as useless as a limp noodle?
It can not even lure the bluebird of happiness to us with out our own intervention of shaking and jostling.
Any why then, in an effort to do so, do we shake up and jostle our fragile worlds into vague memories of happiness caught in a net?
Why so many holes?
Why so much space between?
And why is there no light coming through all those holes and spaces?
Since when does the blue bird of happiness fly in the dark?
And since when do we not even know what anything means anymore?
Friday, August 19, 2011
Random thought processes are so weird!
I've been going over this blog trying to revamp it and in the process came across the Fatherless Father's Day post. I skimmed it like all the other posts and moved on. Emotionless. No altered states. Meaningless.
Why all of the sudden, as I sit here slightly bored but with lots to do.... do I have the inkling to go take a look at my real father's face book page. It's been a while. There never was much to it, but I don't know- I guess I thought there might be something new and meaningless there for me to see.
So I go...type in his name that I used to share, and there it is. There he is. Looking back at me. Same pic as always. Not much new and very little activity on his wall. He's updated some of his personal info to show that he is self employed in the business of new aftermarket repair parts for vintage motorcycles.
Well, he's still doing that at least. Good for him. He stuck with something. I actually would really like to see it work out for him. Seems maybe it has. That's all good and well.
And then I find myself looking at his picture. Looking... staring. Trying to see... I don't know what. I just find myself looking at him for a really long time. Locking eyes as though he were that big scary dad and I the inadequate little kid that could never get anything right. Challenging his picture to make me feel any kind of emotion at all.
And it doesn't. Nothing.
And I don't know how I feel about that. Every cell in my body knows that's not NORMAL. What's missing in me... for the result of good or bad, that makes me lack some kind of reaction?
And what exactly was I looking for, anyway? I mean, why do I care if apparently I don't really care?
Why all of the sudden, as I sit here slightly bored but with lots to do.... do I have the inkling to go take a look at my real father's face book page. It's been a while. There never was much to it, but I don't know- I guess I thought there might be something new and meaningless there for me to see.
So I go...type in his name that I used to share, and there it is. There he is. Looking back at me. Same pic as always. Not much new and very little activity on his wall. He's updated some of his personal info to show that he is self employed in the business of new aftermarket repair parts for vintage motorcycles.
Well, he's still doing that at least. Good for him. He stuck with something. I actually would really like to see it work out for him. Seems maybe it has. That's all good and well.
And then I find myself looking at his picture. Looking... staring. Trying to see... I don't know what. I just find myself looking at him for a really long time. Locking eyes as though he were that big scary dad and I the inadequate little kid that could never get anything right. Challenging his picture to make me feel any kind of emotion at all.
And it doesn't. Nothing.
And I don't know how I feel about that. Every cell in my body knows that's not NORMAL. What's missing in me... for the result of good or bad, that makes me lack some kind of reaction?
And what exactly was I looking for, anyway? I mean, why do I care if apparently I don't really care?
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Oh my head.....
...has been SO neglected.
Ok, admittedly, given up on. I suppose you could say life got in the way. And I wanted it to. There were things in my life that weren't in my life enough and I made an executive decision to trade the time I spent blogging on here with that which I wanted more time with in my life. So why am I here now, you ask?
Oy, the obsession of trying to make a relationship the center of your universe is... NOT GOOD FOR YOUR RELATIONSHIP! You can take my word for it. I've been there. And now, I'm here. Once again. In my red head.
Ok, admittedly, given up on. I suppose you could say life got in the way. And I wanted it to. There were things in my life that weren't in my life enough and I made an executive decision to trade the time I spent blogging on here with that which I wanted more time with in my life. So why am I here now, you ask?
Oy, the obsession of trying to make a relationship the center of your universe is... NOT GOOD FOR YOUR RELATIONSHIP! You can take my word for it. I've been there. And now, I'm here. Once again. In my red head.
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