Life is Weird

Endless Insanity

Archive for the category “stories”

Pickin’ Bits & a Boob Scratch.

Some people think that staying in on a Friday night is a sin. I remember the days when I thought the exact same thing, but times have changed for me. I enjoy coming home Friday after work. I have put in my week at work and can hardly wait to put on my slobby slob-out clothes, grab a bag of chips, a big glass of coke zero and improve my life via Pinterest. It works for me. Plus – I get to spend some quality time with my gorgy Zozo dog and her baby cat Charlie.

babycat

Now – we all know that I spoil the Zoey dog – to say the least. Do I need to remind anyone that I got the kitten for Zo – to keep her company during the day? No. So would it really be a surprise to find out that I spent part of my Friday night Pickin’ Bits for her. You see – I thought I was being quite smart, quite clever when I bought the delish looking dog food from the liquidation world. It had healthy little bits of dried beans and carrots in it. She eats beans and carrots off of my plate – so I thought she would like some in her own food. Wrong. Apparently the Zo has a very refined palate when it comes to her beans and carrots. That’s right – she does not approve of eating either one in the dried crunchy state. So I watched her as she would take a mouthful of the dried food over to the carpet , drop it all on the carpet, and then eat everything but the dried beans and carrots. She left those on the carpet for me to pick up. Ya – I don’t really want to be picking up these stupid bits every single day. But I am like a super genius and decide to dump out the whole bag on the counter – pick out the bean and carrot bits and chuck them in the garbage. Really – come on. This is Ridiculous – but I started so I actually finished. It took almost an hour.

After completing this tedious task I decided to reward myself with a nice hot bath. I love my baths. Zo always sits by the tub while I soak. She waits for me to get out and then dries my toes. I guess Zo’s new kitten Charlie wanted to become part of our bathing ritual. I saw her perched on the toilet seat – just watching. Okay – I am not stupid – I don’t trust this cat for nothin’. She is totally wild, and completely insane. I look at her and decide I was safe – I know she doesn’t like water – I know this for sure. How? Because when it was +35 out I thought she might like a little dip in Zozo’s pool. Ha! – Not so much. Don’t go getting all up in arms with me either. I was not being cruel – I didn’t just chuck her in. I had her on a leash and I lowered her in carefully and I was holding on tight. Lets just say I won’t do that again. And there is also the fact that I can now hold up a spray bottle of water and she halts in her tracks. This is my only defence against this 2 lbs. weapon of mass destruction. When I find her hanging on my sheers – a little spray of water – and she’s gone. The curtains are all snagged to shit now anyways – but that’s besides the point. There are times where I catch Charlie planning her next random attack on my home décor – and when I do – I call her name – show her my weapon – and she changes her little evil mind, for that moment in time anyways.

Okay – Okay – way off track again – I know.

So – I am relaxing in the tub – my knees up, my head on the inflatable pillow. I could sleep in that steamy hot water , I really could. My false sense of security has taken over any common sense. The tiny cute kitten,who I am now quite sure is a demented flying squirrel=cat, is planning her next attack.

My Moment of Zen is over in a quick second. Charlie – being the Cirque de Sol acrobat that she is has obviously scoped out my dry knees sticking up and has leaped towards them . She thinks she will be safe from the water but does not realize she has just scared the bejesus out of me. So I jolt – she drops. Before she gets “wet” she has somehow landed on my now upright chest. As I sit up she sinks her little razor claws into my boob. She is hanging from me like a cheap necklace. Not cute. This kitten has clawed the crap out of me , but I never thought I would get a boob scratch from her. I really should have known better. After removing the kitten from my body I know I have lost my chance for that relaxing bath moment.

As I reflect on my Friday night I know that I could be doing other things. If I really wanted I could go party it up , or go for dinner, go to a movie. Maybe I should change things up a bit – go out on Friday nights. Stop = I will not give in to the maniacal mayhem of this baby feline. I will be the boss of her. She will not dictate my life – or my Friday nights. Right?

Right?

CBC, Readers Digest, and Bobby Pins.

I have told you all before that this is the year I turn 50. And I am looking forward to it – even though I am kind of shocked I have made it this far. When I was 17 or 18 I could not even conceive the thought of eventually being 30, let alone 50 !! Seriously – I just thought I would die before ever being that old. Its not that I wanted to die , or that I was unhappy with life, I was just certain that I would never be old. Perhaps it was this mind set that made me never really believe I was getting old – or older. Somehow I managed to make 20 years disappear. One minute I was 30 (and quite fabulous I might add) and in the blink of an eye I am almost 50. I can’t say I am Fabulous but I can say I am pretty great. I am definitely a lot happier and way more content. And I am weirder. Yes – I am undeniably Weirder, and this is the part of aging I like the best. You can be as weird as you want and just chalk it all up to aging – or to menopause (if nothing else sounds right)

Its only in the last 2 years that I have received the Obvious Physical Signs of Aging. Some grey hairs, little wrinkles around the eyes, stiff and sore body, memory loss, and stupid menopause .
Seriously – If I would have been a little more aware of myself I would have realized that I was aging before the Big Slap in the Face Physical Signs ever hit me.

There are a lot of little things going behind the big pound and ground of physical aging. Simply little things – like retiring my high heels and opting for a more “comfortable” pair of shoes. I still have my sexy high stiletto shoes and I still love them. I even have tried to wear them on occasion…. ya ‘ not a great idea. If that isn’t self induced torture I don’t know what is. Or how about how all of a sudden I just didn’t watch music videos on TV anymore. I used to love MTV. But there was that one day when I go to turn on the music and it wasn’t “my” music. Where in the hell did “my’ music go? And who where all these new freaky young people on the TV. What kind of music is this – and why are their pants falling down. Somebody should really buy them some new pants. Maybe they need some Slacks. Some sharp, fitted Slacks. Quickly – I had to say “Slacks” – sorry – but I just love that word and do not get to use it often enough. Anyhow – these are just 2 examples but I am sure you all get the idea.

I have narrowed it down to 3 little things that have my 17 or 18 year old self would use as undisputable evidence that I am now older. And I make it very clear to my younger self that I not OLD – I am just old -ER (older). But lets appease my 17 year old self by submitting the unarguable evidence. Here it is :

Listening to CBC Radio
Reading Readers Digest
The use of Bobby Pins

I admit it – I am a CBC Lover. This was not always the case. The memories of my father blaring CBC radio throughout the house are still vivid. He had good hearing so I could never understand why he was playing the radio so friggin’ loud. And he would have CBC Radio blaring while he was playing the piano – even more annoying. Its amazing the lengths he went to – just to annoy me. I would come in the house and run straight for that radio and turn it down. Just like he would do to me if I was listening to Alice Cooper on sound level 1 or 2. I mean a dog couldn’t even hear that. I am not really sure when it happened but I started listening to CBC on my own – it was no longer the station that was the “nails on the chalkboard” . In fact – I even look up their guide – see what great things are ahead on the CBC. I cannot imagine life without Stuart McLean and the Vinyl Café. I could listen to that all weekend long.
My 17 year old self seriously would commit Hari Kari over this.

Yes – and Readers Digest. When I was 17 – or any age up until a few weeks ago. The only place I ever saw a Readers Digest was at my Grannies house. Really! I would pick it up and flip to the back pages where the little games were. They were so easy – I felt like a genius doing them. But the rest of the little book/magazine I could live without. I mean all the articles were on Life, cooking, health, culture, travel, or just dumb home handy stuff. No 17 year old needs this kind of information. We pretty much know everything at the perfect age of 17 – so its hard to imagine anyone benefiting from that stupid little book. Yup – you know it. I buy (purchase with my own money) Readers digest!! I am a reader, so this wonderful little book fills the perfect void in my life…that being a good Tub-Read. I am in the bath tub a lot – soaking my sore achy body in hot water and Epsom salts….and this book is so light weight, so perfectly sized for my arthritic hands. It is a match made in heaven. And I know without a doubt my 17 yr. old self is giving me the big stink eye as I say out loud how delightful I find all the little stories and articles. Readers Digest is now my new favourite magazine. ( and you rarely see a stiletto heel in it either – just sayin’) If anyone out there has struggled with tub-reading as I have in the past – just go get yourself a copy – problem is solved. You are Welcome.

Lastly – it is the Bobby Pin that has helped me to be more aware of my New Oldness. I have always had bobby pins in my make up case. Always. I don’t even know where I got them. I have never used them – but I have always had them on hand. Some old person must have given them to me – maybe when I was 17 – knowing I would use them someday. It must have been someone I really liked because I never chucked them. I mean aren’t Bobby pins to help keep the bun in your hair? A million bobby pins in those old lady buns you know. My 17 yr. old self would not be caught dead with a bobby pin in her head. I spent hours to curl my hair and try and get it just like Farrah Fawcetts hair. There was plenty of hair spray involved so a bobby pin would never ever have even been needed. Well don’t you just know it – the other day I came across my bobby pins and low and behold I am now a bobby pin user. Yup – that quick – it happened in the blink of an eye. They are in my hair right now. Yes they are. Are they fancy? Are they fashionable? Are they cute? No. No. And No. Do I care? No. No. And No. Its over 30 degrees outside – my hair has frizzed out to beat the band. And those little bobby pins work like a charm.

To sum it up – we all know the physical signs of aging, but we should all really take note of the little signs. It is the little signs that really give away our “real” age. We might still look good on the outside – but certain things are a dead giveaway to our “real” age. And maybe – just maybe when a 17 yr. old tells us we are old – well – they may not be right – but they are probably onto something. So watch for the signs people – all of the little signs.

Kraft Dinner

You know that song “If I had a million Dollars” – by the Barenaked Ladies ?? I hope you all say yes – because that song should be a classic for Everyone – not just us Canadians. Anyhow – in the song its says that if they had $1,000,000 they would buy the “real” Kraft Dinner. Well – I agree with this more than you know. I have always been a fan of the “real” Kraft Dinner. I can eat a whole box myself. Even when I was a kid in school I ate a whole box myself. Honestly – I don’t think I would even make a box if I had to consider sharing it. As far as comfort foods go Kraft Dinner has always been one of those self indulgent staples that can be found in my pantry.

99% of the time I prepare the KD so it is just its regular smooth and creamy artificial cheesy consistency, this is when I like to top it with Ketchup. And pepper – lots of fresh ground pepper. Fresh ground pepper makes any meal fancier. Oh – and do I even have to say that the Ketchup must be Heinz? God – I hope not people – because that should just be a given. There is no ifs, ands, or buts about this one. You simply cannot pair the most legendary of boxed dinners with a less-superior condiment. Everyone knows there is no substitute that can match the perfection of the “real” Kraft Dinner – so it is really an unspoken truth , knowledge, or just a fact of life that if you are a person who prefers to top your KD with ketchup – it must be Heinz. And I am sorry to say that you can’t use the little ketchup packs you bring home from the Burger joints – even if they say they are Heinz.(I for one cannot be so sure that it is really Heinz – but that’s another story). I have done it before -(used the little packets) but only in an emergency situation – I guess it got me through the meal , however it really was not the same. I will admit that I do have very high standards when it comes to my KD meals, but I truly believe we should all show the proper amount of respect that is demanded by such a celebrated meal.

When I am sick the other 1% of the time- the whole KD preparation changes! I have to make it “soupier”. I know all my fellow KD connoisseurs know exactly what I mean. You just add a little – or a lot more milk so that the manufactured cheese sauce becomes more saucier – more liquidy. The soupy KD will require a large table spoon for consumption, whereas the “normal” KD is edible with a fork – if you so choose. Okay – so I only make the soupy KD when I am under the weather, and obviously this is just my own personal preference. Some people may to prepare their KD in the “soupier” way most of the time – this is acceptable – and once again a matter of personal preference. Obviously when KD is made soupier nobody in their right mind would put any ketchup on it – that would be absurd. You can have a little pepper – but not a lot- and not fresh ground – just the regular powdery type. Nobody should choke on pepper chunks when they are not feeling well.

When I was in university I even had Hangover KD. Obviously this in an experimental time of our lives. Some of us get into some pretty bad stuff during these formidable years, its really scary to think of the garbage we will just try so willingly before we even think it through. At this age I had it in my head that not only was I smarter than my elders – but I was smarter than Kraft itself, because I was going to tamper with the very essence of the KD experience . I really was just at the age where I didn’t have the respect I should have for anyone – or anything – including Kraft Dinner. I threw out the cheese pack – and stirred in a can of cream of mushroom soup. Perhaps in my youth I thought I was being fancy -or that somehow I was better than the cheese packet. This is what can happen to a young adult after flipping through a few of your aunties cookbooks. I admit I was a complete rebel – and really should have been punished for the total annihilation of the Original KD Experience. But trust me – eating it like that was punishment enough, and it never did cure a hang over . It may have made me barf though – which probably helped in my recovery. My KD Rebellion did not last long and in no time I was once again a responsible, and respectful KD consumer.

So – Anyhow – If I had $1,000,000 – it would be a sure bet that I would buy the “real” Kraft Dinner – and lots of it. I would have a nice little “hoard” of it. And only the Original Kraft Dinner. As Enjoyable as the White cheddar, the Sprirals and the other varieties can be -my heart is stuck on the Original KD. I just love it – and I would never cheat on it by trying another brand. In the worse case scenario -like a Zombie Apocalypse or whatever – If all I had in my “end of the world” cupboard was KD – I would be happy to eat it every day. I would probably buy other things with my $1,000,000 too – but like I said – it would be a safe bet that I would always have “REAL” Kraft Dinner in my cupboards!

Cat for the Dog

For the last 2 years I have felt really really bad for leaving my precious Zozo ( aka Zoey or “The Zo” ) at home everyday while I go to work. In case you don’t know – Zozo is my Gorgy Gorgy (short for gorgeous) Long Haired Jack Russell. She is truly just the light of my life. I love her beyond words – and Yes – she may be a tad on the spoiled side. Just a Tad – But that is to be expected because I do not have children of the Human variety.

Zozo & I used to live out in the country and for some reason while we lived out there I never felt bad leaving her in the house all day. I guess its because she could run around free out there. Our walks did not require a leash, we would just go out the back door and right into the wilderness. And we had the best neighbors out there- Zozo really really loved them. I would open the door and off she would go down her well beaten path to the next house down. They had a beautiful black lab that Zozo loved to play with. They also let Zoey right in their house when she showed up. They were so good to her and she made herself right at home there – sitting at the kitchen table being fed pancakes and bacon. I guess its no wonder there was a well beaten path to their house – I never gave her treats that good. Anyhow – the day came where Zoey and I moved into the city. Her days of leashless walks, rabbit chasing, and pancake feeding neighbors were over. Everything changed. She became a prisoner of the city, and all of its ridiculous dog-laws that really were not made to ensure her happiness.

Now all of our walks require a leash. Mind you she is a good leash walker – no problems there. Its just that she no longer has any freedom. I can’t just open the door and let her go chase rabbits and squirrels – she must be under my constant supervision. It is now 2 years later and the guilt of leaving her alone has finally got the better of me. For a long time I thought I should get her another dog to hang out with, but there were so many things to consider. First of all – I am not sure if Zozo would appreciate another dog in the house. I mean – she is no doubt the boss of the house. Numero Uno, Queen of the World , and definitely the Boss of me. She owns the house and basically lets me live there and pay the mortgage for her.

It occurred to me that when we lived out in the country there was a short period of time where we looked after an abandoned kitten. I found the kitten in the ditch by our driveway. So I made it a little bed in our garage and let it set up house there. I never really considered letting the cat inside. I just assumed that a Jack Russell + Small Baby Cat could only lead to chaos. As it turns out, Zoey loved this little cat. I mean she really really loved this little cat. When I would get home from work she bolted to the cats house and smothered it with sloppy tongue kisses. It was quite surprising really. She would even carry it around by the scruff of the neck and take it to the safety of the garage if she heard her black lab friends approaching.

You can see where this is going – right? Yes – I got my Gorgy Zozo a baby-cat. She went bezerk when I brought her home. I was afraid she was going to lick the tiny head off of the baby cat. The cat is very very tiny. I named her Charlie. Zoey truly seems to enjoy having her own baby cat – except at night time when it wants to keep her up to play and chew on her tail. We all know I am a good mother to the Zo (obviously – I just got her a cat for heavens sake) – so to keep her happy and to ensure we both gets our proper beauty sleep I have had to turn my arts and crafts room into Charlies new room . Yes – until Charlie learns to sleep at night with Zoey & I she will have to have her own nighttime room. And yes – I have the room full of all the goodies any baby cat should have, its not like we are locking the poor thing up in a closet.

This story only goes to show the world that a True dog lover will do almost anything for their dog. If the scratches all over my body, the cleaning of the litterbox, or the stinky wet kitten food are not enough proof then I do not know what is. I do know that The Zo is quite content with her baby cat Charlie. And I am happy that she is not alone all day. In the end all that matters is that my Zozo is happy. I will do whatever it takes – obviously because I just got a Cat for my Dog.

Zozo and Charlie

babycat

charlie

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