Christmas Cats

I love my cats.  They love me as long as I feed them.  Otherwise, they gravitate to whomever shakes the kibble bag.  Or pops the top on their Fancy Feast.  But even if ours is a relationship of convenience, I’m nothing if not a sucker for a furry paw and fishy breath. 

I love to take pictures of my cats.  I have more pictures of cats than pictures of family members.  At least cat pictures are always cute; family members not so much.

 

Lily thinks I won’t find her behind the tree.

I hated to tell her the gift wasn’t for her.

I told her to get from behind the tree. She doesn’t know which way to go.

Lily’s Favorite Place – Behind the Christmas Tree

Lily and Rosie in the same frame

Rosie still for a few seconds under the tree

 

Rethinking the Christmas List

I got almost everything I asked for on my Christms list.  As I opened gifts, I mentally checked them off.  There’s the Homer Laughlin book; the Garden Claw; the black gloves; the black peacoat; the Felco secateurs; the external hard drive; the gift cards.  All neatly checked off.  But no heart shaking surprises.  No opening a gift and getting a huge surprise…”For meeeee?  Ohhhhhhhh how did you know?  How did you guess?  It’s the best thing ever!”  Nope; none of that.   Actaully opening gifts was rather anticlimatic.  I know that isn’t something that the gift-giver wants to hear since I got exactly what I asked for.  That’s the purpose of wish lists, right?

That’s sounds ungrateful, doesn’t it.  It isn’t meant to be.  I’m thinking of past Christmases.  Perhaps Christmases too long ago.  Perhaps back to Christmases when Santa brought one toy.  And we received one gift from Mama and Daddy.  And one gift from my older sister.  There was  more excitement and anticipation then.  And absolutely no sense of expectation.  I never even sat on Santa’s knee and told him what I wanted because I was scared to death of him!  And you know WHY he frightened me?  Because.  Mama always told my brother and me that if we weren’t in bed and asleep by 8:30PM on Christmas eve night, that Santa would bite our ears off!  Talk about PTSD.  It’s a good thing I don’t believe in Santa.  Now that I’m a grownup and everything, I know why she did it.  She just wanted us from underfoot so they could get the Santa stuff going on.  But try telling that to an overly sensitive and literal 8-year-old.  No wonder I grew up so ambivalent towards Christmas!

But the point of all of this is just to question if Wish Lists are a good thing.  The whole point is a list of things we wish for; not a list of things we actually get.  Or is that just wishful thinking?  Nevertheless, I hope Santa was good to you and yours.

Home improvements

Have you noticed how one little purchase can start a cascade of other… problems?  My small third bedroom is known as ‘the computer room’ and has one bookcase.  And cardboard boxes full of shit.  That bookcase, a cheap white laminate KMart special that was inherited from my ex-mil is seriously full and seriously sagging from the weight of books and magazines.  I thought I wanted built-ins until I got a couple of estimates and decided my budget wasn’t that rich.  I found some bookcases at Home Decorators that I was on the verge of buying.  Which meant I’d have to put them together, which I don’t mind, but is time consuming and requires a lot of floor space.  And well, my knees weren’t looking forward to crawling around in the floor.  But I was game.  Thank goodness, a chance trip to Costco solved my problems and I bought two Kathy Ireland bookcases fully intact.  Getting them home and getting them in the house and out of their giant boxes is another story altogether…

I didn’t want to install the bookcases in a room with tired old paint on the walls so I decided to paint.  That presents another problem of picking out a color, but eventually went with Sherwin Williams’ ‘Gracious Rose.’  I like the idea of living in a room that color…..a lot.  It’s purty and the bookcases look good against it.  Or against the one wall that I have painted.  I have three more walls and trim to go. 

About painting…  Let’s not even begin talking about the problems that painting entails.  I don’t want to  begin adding up how many trips I’ve made to the paint store and the big box home improvement store.  And the receipts for stuff that I needed…and still need to finish the job.  About not washing the paint out of the paint tray.  About a paint roller that’s frozen solid in the freezer.  About the cheap brushes that I found in the garage.  About the spackle that wasn’t adhering.  About Kilz.  About, about, about; well, you get the idea. 

But I haven’t put anything in the cases yet because there’s more to bookcase than just unpacking those babies and filling them up with books.  I have to shim them and level them and attach them to the wall so they don’t topple over.  Plus the ex says they’re too pretty to mess up with books and shit and maybe I should just set pretty little doodads on them.  Huh?  I don’t think so. 

But back to the problem.  Now the carpet is looking seriously ratty.  I’m thinking of looking at hardwood flooring.  Maybe a filing cabinet to match my bookcases.  They have a nice big matching desk too.  And a hutch!  Will it never end?  Help meeeeeeeee…

Josh Groban channeling Homer Simpson

I took some camera video at Josh’s concert in Charlotte, North Carolina.  His fans looooove to give him gifts; and posters; and cards; and flowers; and t-shirts; and hugs; and kisses; and candy; and their hearts; and phone numbers; and dolls.  Ummm do you think Josh does a passable Homer impersonation?  Do you think Homer can sing like Josh?  Naaaaaahhhhh! 

Cheap Shi(r)t

Okay, I’ve got the joy and excitement from Josh’s concert out of my system.  Bet you’re thinking, “that didn’t last long.” 

At his concert in Raleigh I bought a souvenir program; a coffee mug; a key chain; and the post cards.  So.  I’m a conspicuous Josh consumer, so what?  It’s money that I’d spend anyway whether it’s on Luna bars or Double Fudge Brownie ice cream and there’s no calories involved with Josh merchandise….unless I pig out on the ice cream and Luna bars when I listening to Josh.  So, again I ask….so what?

So what?  So in Charlotte I bought a t-shirt.  This t-shirt to be exact.

All I can say is what a crappy shirt.  It’s so thin you can practically see through it.  Hell, you can see through it; if you look at the picture of the back of the shirt on the right, you can see the ‘AWAKE’ logo.  This shirt cost $30 and I don’t mind paying that at all.  I love me some souvenir shirts and have plenty of musicals proudly represented in my t-shirt drawer.  As a matter of fact I have two Josh shirts from his first concert tour and they’re a very good quality and weight.  Unlike this one.  It’s thinner than undershirts; you can see skin through it.  But, honey bears, you ain’t gonna see my skin through it; scary thought.  It’s just plain ole flimsy.  And I’m disappointed.  Of course, the shirt is made in the USA which in itself is an oddity.  I guess I should be grateful that the tour is selling some merchandise that’s actually made in the USA.  I didn’t realize that apparel companies still manufactured in the United States.  Must have been a fluke.  But for that fact alone, I should think the quality would be better than the cheap Chinese crap that we’re forced to spend our money on these days.  Can you tell I’m aggravated?  I am, because most of you know how I feel about the ‘Made In China’ label.  That’s another subject entirely.

My beef is with this (not)beefy tee.  I’m pissed and want to return it, but to whom?  Where?  Is the tour responsible for the merchandise or is it contracted out to another party for a cut of the profits?  More inquiring minds want to know if Josh knows about this blot on his shining rep.  What would Josh do?  If his adoring fans gave him a t-shirt of such poor quality (and trust me, friends, Josh gets LOTS of t-shirts), would he be insulted?  Would he want to return it?  Would he know where to return it? 

So.  Joshie, boy?  What should I do with the t-shirt?  That’s $30 that I could have spent on See’s candy.  Now, there’s some quality! 

Oh, What A Night With Josh Groban

 

 View my Josh pics here:

Josh Groban 09/2007

My friend and I got to Charlotte’s Bobcats Arena early and found our floor seats.  Heh, for some reason she thought we’d be sitting up amongst the rafters.  I sniffed, “I don’t think so!”  She said, ”Well, I didn’t know.  I’ve never been to a concert with you before.”  “Ha, yeah, honey, I know.”  Nothing wrong with sitting close to heaven, I’m sure.  But there’s one snobbery I’ll cop to and that’s where I’m sitting during any kind of performance.  The less I have to use the ole binocs the better.  We people-watched and chatted, I whined about not bringing my water bottle with me, and at 7:30PM Josh’s opening act begins. 

Deborah Cox’s opening song is ‘Destination Moon’ which is the title of her CD, a cover of Dinah Washington hits.  Deborah is an elegant bluesy, jazzy singer with a smooth voice.  The audience applause is polite but not effusive; in all honesty, we’re there to see Josh, and Deborah is gracious in her acknowledgement of that fact.   Dressed in a long white, glamorous gown, she takes the opportunity to plug her CD, ‘Destination Moon’.  Close to the end of her set, she asks the audience if we’re ‘awake’.  Soon after her performance of ‘What A Difference A Day Makes’, she exits the stage.

We wait.  The thin curtain billows around Josh’s set.  We hear him before we see him.  The curtain rises and we see him slowly rising onto the stage singing, ‘You Are Loved’ and the crowd goes wild and immediately rise from their seats.  The sound system is cranked to destructive-decibel level and the arena vibrates.  And so begins what we’ve come to see.  Josh Groban and his amazing voice, beautiful songs, great musicians, barefoot violinist, and other fans who share the singular passion that’s Josh.

Josh has an amazing voice and it’s even more amazing in person.  His stage presence has grown; he seems to be more comfortable and his rapport with the audience seems warmer than during his first concert tour.  He’s friendlier,  more relaxed, and still retains his charming goofiness that’s so endearing.  Judging from the audience, his appeal cuts across all age groups and even this old broad gets a thrill from his concerts.  Yeah!

Trying to capture a butterfly

My backyard has come alive lately.  Perhaps keeping the bird feeders stocked and the birdbath full of clean water has a hand in that.  It’s been so hot lately that I’ve been extra vigilant in seeing that the backyard critters are fed and watered.  I have a yardful of finches that have been eating the grass seed from the lawn, cardinals and their babies, blue birds, blue jays, doves,  hummingbirds, and woodpeckers.  And squirrels.  Can’t forget the squirrels, although the squirrel-proof feeder and safflower seed seem to leave them in a constant state of pique.  And me, I feel sorry for the furry rodents and put down sunflower seed for them so they won’t go hungry.  Hah.  

Each morning while my coffee brews, I pet Rosie the cat while I watch all the goings-on in the backyard.  It’s mesmerizing and soothing and hard to tear myself away from.  The butterfly bush and periwinkles attract butterflies and their flittering around is a happy sight.

I envy wildlife photographers; their skill to get beautiful pictures of flora and fauna.  Watching the butterflies yesterday gave me the bright idea of trying to get a picture of one.  They don’t stand still on cue and certainly don’t smile at the camera!  My meager attempts left me more frustrated than fulfilled, but I think I did pretty good considering…

And don’t forget the little yellow butterfly.  Talk about something that wouldn’t sit still!  What a flitter critter.  It is big enough to be considered a butterfly, yes?

 

See you in the funny paper.

                                   

  Bucky Kat 

 

Hammy Squirrel                             

Bucky’s trapping tasty animals this morning.  He calls it the ‘Tasty Animal Trap 5000.’  I love Bucky Kat but I seriously   couldn’t live with him and if I did have a cat like that, well, let’s just say he’d be getting intensive therapy.  But if I were picking a life-time partner from the comic strip world, I think I’d have to choose Hammy Squirrel, the most adorable, naive, innocent, more-than-slightly-off-center animal in the comic animal kingdom.  Heck, I’d even vote for him for president; the world would truly be a better place.

But no politics, please!

Every morning I read the comics while I have my coffee and blueberry bagel.  Have done faithfully since even before I could read.  One of my earliest memories is sitting in the floor with the Charleston, South Carolina News and Courier spread out in the floor in front of me looking at the pictures and wondering what the squiggles (words) meant.  I looked at the funnies and when I learned to read, I began to read the funnies and still do.  I  read Nancy and Sluggo, Little Orphan Annie, Blondie of course, Steve Canyon, and Brenda Starr.  There were others, but those are the ones that come immediately to mind.

Now I mostly read them online, but still check them out in the newspaper and still look at the Sunday funnies to catch the ones I don’t read online.  But the yin and yang of my funnies has to be Bucky and Hammy, devil vs. angel, grumpy vs. sunny disposition, innocence vs. evil, cat vs. squirrel, hairball vs. furball.  I love them both.  And I love me some funnies. 

Take my phone, please.

I just needed a new phone.  Time to upgrade my old LG phone, the one that doesn’t do anything except make and receive calls.  It doesn’t take pictures, it doesn’t play music, it doesn’t text, nor have any serious attitude.  Heck, it hardly ever rings because I have a serious phone phobia and it’s all I can do to make a call.

So.  Off to the Verizon store to get a new phone…one that will take pictures.  That’s the only upgrade I wanted, the ability to whip out my phone and possibly make history the next time I’m on the scene of any earth shattering news.  My goodness, what a candy store of cute tiny techno gadgets.  I looked at the utilitarian phones, but I gots da fevah!  I walked out with the latest model of Chocolate in a cool maroon shade.  Trailing behind me was a music essentials kit to better upload music to my phone; a memory card so I could upload a ton (figuratively) of music; a Bluetooth headset so I could groove to ‘Jersey Boys’ wirelessly; and of course a car charger just in case I left home with an uncharged phone. 

The bill for all my goodies was impressive and I left the store in an endorphin high that had me feeling hip and cool.  I had a phone that would not only make and receive calls, but would also play music.  And take pics!  I was cookin’.  I went home and read the instructions.  I hate to admit that I’m weird that way.  Then I carefully put the phone aside to play with another day.    The phone is sleek, but the round scroll thingy is very touchy and difficult to use.  I couldn’t find the menus easily and after an exasperating while, fell out of love.  I can be fickle.  My techno high was short-lived and I came crashing down to reality.  I’m a child of the party line and rotary dials.  A phone isn’t an entertainment center.  It’s a gadget that’s used to make and receive calls….or at least retrieve messages because you don’t bother to answer the phone in the first place.  It’s a device of convenience, not a new appendage that must be attached to my body.  Me.  With a hip new phone?  I don’t think so.

I was standing in line at the Verizon store yesterday, tapping my foot, couldn’t wait to rid myself of the ridiculous Chocolate!  Who do I think I am?  I’m an unhip, uncool don’t-wanna-be who thinks you don’t use cell phones when you’re driving, or walking in stores, or dining in restaurants, or even walking down the sidewalk.  Cell phones are to be used in an emergency.  

Who needs a cool new phone?  I don’t.  So I said bye bye to that ridiculous maroon phone and got something in black.  With a camera.  I mean, I’m not that totally lacking in hip.  Who knows when I might want to snap a pic and make news at the next garden show… 

The Deafening Would Be (Welcome) Silence

Is it me?  Where was I when it happened?  When did businesses ratchet up the volume of the overhead music?  When did “background” music become a battle of the decibels?  I wear two hearing aids, by that definition I’m pretty much deaf.  But the noise…and I call  it noise politely…overwhelms me and makes me want to scream, before exiting an establishment in haste, “Your damned music is too freaking loud!”  I even wrote CVS pharmacy and complained about the noise that blasted me as I walked into a couple of their stores.  I got a nice reply, but of course, the noise continues blasting.  What happened to Muzak, that nice, boring, unpretentious, and hardly noticeable music that was the bane of every elevator and department store in the western world? 

I admit.  I’ve become a grump.  It’s my right; I’m over 39.  But I do like music and if it’s classical or Josh Groban, then I absolutely adore it.  Okay, call me boring, I don’t care.  That’s my right, too.  But the loud, metallic, screeching noise that passes for music now only annoys me and causes me to get out of a store as soon as possible.

Yesterday, even in this southern heat, with heat indexes of 203F (no, I don’t exaggerate either) I had to do errands and grocery shopping.  My first stop was the drive-up mail box at the post office to mail a birthday card.  No music there thankfully, but it’s only a matter of time before there’s outside speakers at every drive-up mailbox.  Fast food drive-up windows now even have music blasting.  Have you noticed?  But I digress.  My next stop was K-Mart for some cheap tank tops for the August heat.  You guessed it.  LOUD music.  I got my goods and split in record time.  Chik-fil-A is a usual stop and I got my trusty #7 and parked myself under a speaker…which wasn’t difficult because there are several speakers in the ceiling.  The music was loud and the female singers were screechers.  I was in a foul mood.  I wanted to ask one of the slacker guys if they had someone who determined how loud the music was, but I was in such a mood that I knew I couldn’t be my usual sweet Suth’un self, so I bolted my food and got out again in record time.  Again, when I got to the grocery section of the local megamart, I listened and above the din…you guessed it.  Loud music.  Once more in record time I bought groceries and left.

So.  Is it me?  Am I the only one on the planet who notices the noise?  Am I the only one who finds it annoying?  Am I the only one who doesn’t like the racket?  Am I the only one who isn’t afraid to be alone with my thoughts, or rather the chirping of the crickets which is tinnitus?  Am I the only one who cares?  Have we become such a busy technological society that we can no longer expect a quiet environment?  Does anyone else miss the mindlessness of the Muzak generation?