Statue Cat

Preamble: I can't help that I love cats, they get a bad rap, and they shouldn't because well, they should be worshipped like biblical prophets of yore.

A new neighbor moved in next door, a single lady, she looks like a rougher version of Stevie Nicks, because she wears flowing gypsy skirts with scarfs and has long unruly hair. Anyway, I decided I didn't like this neighbor because 1. I often make horrible pop judgements. 2. She didn't take care of her backyard and 3. She was weird. And Then. I saw her cat. Tim and I were minding our own business doing yard work, when I decided to mind my own business and peek over her fence to see if she had cleaned up her backyard, and that is when I saw HIM. He was Persian, with long grayish whitish fur, staring right back at me, like a statue cat. I was in love. I peeked over later and he hadn't moved. I yelled at Tim to come see this creature, and Tim fell in love too (we'll pretend he did). There was something about this cat that was hysterical too. His face said to me "you are a worthless human, get away with you, good day." From then on it was my mission in life (albeit not the same as my youth mission to New Mexico that I hated). No this mission was very important, I need to see this cat again! 4 weeks went by with only small sightings by Tim, who would see Phantom Cat in the early dawn or I would see a fleeting snippet of tail go around the corner. I was determined to get a picture. 2 days ago, I walked past the Stevie Nicks Gypsy house with my mail when I caught a grey smashed-in-face-fluff-ball out of the corner of my eye, it was HIM! I ran home with the mail, ran inside to get my camera and then like SWAT snuck slowly slowly up to him, I was able to get one picture and he was not happy with me. For your viewing pleasure here is Phantom Statue Cat.

This Is Why

There is no one that bitches and screams more than I do in the summer. I'm like Faye Dunaway in "Mommy Dearest" except that I don't have her eyebrows, on a side note, Erica reminds me often that she hates her eyebrows "I got your eyebrows mom!" Sorry daughter, sorry that you didn't get my midget hands and thick calves too. I digress. I detest the summers in Phoenix, there is no relief from them, day or night it doesn't matter. You wake up sweating and go to sleep sweating, you can't touch your steering wheel and you hunt for pockets of any type of shade in parking lots like dehydrating lions in Africa. The thought of going anywhere in the middle of the day brings fear into your soul. You literally live in catacombs called the mall and movie theatres, central air conditioning becomes your only friend. Summers here are not for the weak.



Which brings me to why I love Phoenix in the winter. Yesterday, I walked out to my orange tree in my backyard and instructed Tim to pick me 2 dozen shiny oranges, then I skipped back inside and made myself a fresh glass of the sweet elixir. That picture you see are my oranges! Aren't they beautiful? In the front yard grows the finest navel oranges in the land, sweet as honey. I have flowers blooming, birds chirping and green soft lawn with bright blue sky overhead. Sometimes, when I watch the news and see poor folks struggling in snow and sleet, I feel guilty for my abundance of perfect sunny weather, and then I think "eff them" I put up with degrees in triple digits 4 months of the year.

Inspirational

This past week has been nothing short of amazing. I have been watching and reading the presidential coverage nonstop. President Obama and his beautiful family have inspired me to be a better person. He is a good man, a man with ethics and morals. He wants to do the right thing, he chooses truth and goodness. In his first short interview after becoming president, a reporter set him up to basically, throw Chief Roberts under the bus for messing up the oath of office. Obama took the high road, wouldn't go there and pretty much threw the whole thing back on himself and then said something about Roberts "helping me through the stanzas." It was a very small glimpse into exactly why I voted for him.

In my new reflective mood, I wanted to share who else inspires me:

Timothy Dan: My husband. He deftly handles stressful situations like no other. He is kind to people, enjoys people. He inspires me to a higher ground. I go to him for help, and he has the answer.

Christine Kay: My sister. Her passion for books, family, children is limitless. She goes about her duties as mother to 3 with a heart overflowing for those fine souls. Selfless. Selfless. Alex, Abby, Camille are loved.

Erica: My daughter. I should wear a crocheted wristband with "WWED" What would Erica do? I don't know how this motivated, organized, brilliant creature sprang from my uterus, I am in constant amazement at her copious talents. She is loyal and fearless.

Griffin: My son. Griffin is a magnet to people. They want to be near him, he is kind and inhabits a gentle soul. He walks a different path than most, never would he hurt someone or inflict pain. He loves people, simply and truthfully.

Allison: My friend. She and I have lived hundreds of miles from each other for 27 years, yet nothing has changed between us. She is loyal to a fault. She has enough talent for 5 women. I was always in her wake trying to keep up. Beautiful spirit, passionate center. I have shared with her some of my best laughter. Strength.

Snowball's Chance in Hell

CARDINALS ARE GOING TO THE SUPERBOWL!

Good Caturday

Fatness on Stuff.



They posted this picture yesterday, just look at that face!
He so hates his bath time.

This made me laugh. I love the scarf.



Side note:
Tim said (as he was watching me dance around with glee because Fatness was on Stuff again) "I WILL DIVORCE YOU IF YOU BECOME A CRAZY CAT LADY."

I meekly replied "define crazy."

Alli-Cat

My best friend Allison aka Alli-Cat surprised me with a new header design!

Who else but a friend of mine would spend the better part of her evening fashioning me a header of several beautiful ridiculous kitties with Fatness in the corner adorned with a pumpkin hat.

She is multi talented. Here is her blog Silence of the Clams

DC

Typical conversation:

Me: You need to put "Flashbacks Of A Fool" on your Netflix list.

Caca: Why?

Me: You see several minutes of Daniel Craig's naked ass.

Caca: Done.

Tim's Girlfriend

So the other morning I was minding my own business dragging around at 5:00 am preparing to climb into the shower. Tim was also awake which isn't usually the case because he awakens about 2 hours after me. I turn on the t.v. in our bedroom and casually ask over my shoulder "which news station do you want?" and he replies very quickly "channel 36." I turn to channel 36, which is CNN news and ask him "why do you want this station, it's not local?" and without hesitation he says "my girlfriend is on that station." Now he has my attention. I wipe my blurry eyes, rearrange my flannel house pants with snowflakes on them, pat down the pillow hair going in all directions and focus on his "girlfriend."

All of this wouldn't be so interesting except that Tim rarely says things like this, or seems interested in other women. Unlike me, who drools and rolls around on the carpet like a feral cat whenever I see Hugh Jackman on the screen.

So I ask him "who is she?" again, he answers very quickly "Robin Meade." I'm thinking to myself "wow he even knows her name, he can't even name his sister." So I turn my attention back to the t.v. and see this vision:






I state "she isn't even your type, you have always been a blonde man" he yells from the bathroom "she's clean looking." What this means in cop-verbiage is, she doesn't have tats and piercings and doesn't look like a felon or someone that uses intravenous drugs.

As I looked from her to my make-up smeared-over sized T shirt-puffy eyed- image in the dresser mirror it was clear why he enjoyed looking upon her fresh happy face every morning.

I wish Hugh Jackman was a morning news anchor.

Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet and Watch

I'm turning 48 this year. Ugh. I hear stuff like "oh I don't mind aging, I've earned those years and it's freeing" "I know who I am now" "I care less what people think now" "The best years are ahead of me" it's all a truckload of crap.

I hate aging.

I can't remember shit, I lose track of stuff, I have more chins than a Chinese phonebook, I can't read small print and my ass is looking at my ankles now. I heard Oprah last night telling the world how much she loves her body and appreciates how her body has held her up even with 40 extra pounds and a stressful year. Maybe she has the right idea, maybe I need to thank my sagging belly for carrying around 2 children for 18 months, I especially want to thank my uterus for carrying a son who had the head size of a summer melon. Thank you breasts for feeding said infants but leaving me with enough filler to roll my breasts up into a support bra. Thank you short legs that are the same length as a 11 year old girl's, I have given you absolutely no exercise and still you have been there for me, only giving me trouble when I make you walk on heels (shut it Erica, they ruin you). Lastly, I want to thank my upper arms, they supplied Griffin with unending hilarity, every time he climbed into the car passenger seat and saw my hands on the steering wheel, he would reach over and swing the loose skin back and forth, ahhh such fun.

I told Tim we maybe have 20 good years left, but who knows when we might croak over. And why do men usually die before women? I don't want him to go first! I can picture it now, Chris and I walking Superstition Mall with our seat walkers because both Mike and Tim are long gone, we spend our entire afternoon discussing our digestive systems and why our children don't call us more. Then we climb into the senior services bus and go home to our 9 cats to watch our programs and complain about our poor circulation while I make her hot cocoa without milk because she has become lactose intolerant. Then she screams at me that it's high time I get a hearing aid and I need to stop pretending I don't. Then I tell her that maybe she should worry more about her early stages of dementia and less about my hearing.

Aging sucks, but thank your bodies anyway.

New Year Caturday

Fatness was a good sport.

He put up with being covered in wrapping paper.
















...and a dog that assaulted his ears with non stop lickiing.
















Not even Caca nor Griffy could console him.