Cat Lady

After purchasing our first home, I decided to surprise my husband with a kitten.

Now, the first thing I want to make clear to all of you is that I don't hate animals. I just have a strong aversion to those four-legged animals (and the three-legged ones, as I recently witnessed) that don't have, well, proper etiquette.

Come on, you know what I am talking about. Contrary to the cute snuggly bears we see in the television commercial, neither cats nor dogs use Charmin. And I know many dog lovers that will encourage their pets to run outside and "make duty," to only then encourage Fido to jump up into their bed to snuggle close for a long night's sleep. And I guess they are not afraid of bed bugs either.


OK, back to my idea of getting a cute little kitty. To this day, I do not know how I got there, all I know is that one afternoon I awoke and found myself at the local Humane Society.

I approached the desk where several ladies were busy at work.

"Can I help you?" A pleasant young woman asked.

"Why, yes, I am here to buy a cat," I said.

Silence ensued. I blinked back at her, and then thinking I was somehow not making myself clear, I added, "You know a kitten, really. Preferably one that is already, well... trained."

More silence.

I now had the complete attention of the entire front desk staff.

The largest of the three, her name tag read, "Supervisor," glared at me and said, "Honey, I don't know where you think you are, but this is the Humane Society and you don't "buy" an animal here, you adopt one."

It was immediately apparent that I'd made a mistake. And sensing my opportunity to score big points with my hubby slipping away I knew I had to act fast.

I quickly donned my, "I just love animals and it doesn't matter where they poop or pee" mask and said, "Of course, of course! What I meant to say was adopt, adopt as in make a special part of our family, to have and to hold, blather, blather, blather. All the while, I was thinking, "Show me the damn cats."


I must have sounded sincere enough, as an animal nurse came around the desk to take me to the place where they kept the cats. I looked around and the eager little kitties were meowing for my attention.

I stuck my finger into one cage and said, "Here kitty kitty." The darn thing flew up to the cage and hissed at me raising its paw to strike.

Certain that was not the cat for me, I quickly backed off and went to the next cage where there was a small butter colored kitten just staring at me.

"This is the one I want," I declared.

The cat-nurse opened the cage to remove the kitten and offered her to me.

"Oh no, I don't need to hold him or her, just WRAP it up" I replied.

Cat-nurse looked at me with surprise, "You don't want to hold it?" she asked incredulously.

"No, I am good," I replied. "Besides, this sweater is dry-cleaning only. But do you think you have a box I can use?"

The cat-nurse glaring now said, "You do know that having a pet is a big responsibility and not everyone is cut out for it. You may very well have this cat for fifteen years?"

Fifteen years, I silently cried! Did I know what I was getting into?

Fifteen years seemed like a lifetime of pet ownership. And what about the whole, "Cats have nine lives" deal. Had she included all nine lives?

But then I regained my sanity and quickly began to factor in how I was constantly losing things and besides, our new driveway was super sloped, all risk factors that cat-nurse knew nothing about.

"No,I'm good, I'll take it" I replied.

Cat-nurse ushered me into a small private office where she had about twenty pages of paper work for me to complete.

I remember thinking, "Hello cat people, for crying out loud, this is a CAT we are negotiating over here. Do you really need my social security number?"

But I silently completed all the forms and stood up, ready for my new charge.

I walked back up front where cat-supervisor lady stood waiting for me. She said my total charges would be $80.00 and I would be able to pick my new kitten up tomorrow after 3pm.

Yeah, believe it or not, they had decided that I fit a certain type of profile and needed a 24 hour "cooling off" period, before they'd be comfortable in releasing the pet to me.

Twenty-four hours, ha, I cried, they were crazy if they thought I'd change my mind in 24 hours. I knew it would take at least 48 hours for buyer's remorse to set in!

Dear Lady

I am thinking of writing a letter of regret to my cleaning lady. I want her to know how much I regret her not coming to my house any longer. I regret that I ever complained about her putting the towels away while they were slightly damp. I now fully appreciate the "crisp" fold marks that method provides and after a while, you hardly notice the musty smell. I regret ever entertaining the thought that her new hair cut looked like a mullet- for that I am truly sorry. I feel like the broom on the Swifter commercial, "baby come back"... What I didn't know back then was that it is impossible to clean my house, complete 12 loads of laundry, change all the beds and still be in a good mood AND not light your wig on fire. I am sorry that towards the end of her time with us, I started to time her visits, thinking she wasn't putting in the time. And about the time I ran my finger over the top of the baby grand, bitterly complaining about the dust, I was outta line. We have a new cleaning lady now. She is far less competent than our old. In fact, this one is borderline lazy. Believe it or not, my daughter came home one afternoon and found her sleeping! And she helps herself to all our "good food". I had to have my son hide the Cameo cookies from her in the freezer. She is guilty of many transgressions, but the one that is most grating is that she never completely empties the dish washer, leaving us with "perpetual riders" AND if this doesn't top it all- she has attitude! Yeah, it is as if she is somewhat resentful that she has to do HER job! I mean, it is not like she doesn't get paid for it. Er... does she? Some would consider the love and respect of their family as a sort of currency.
Our new cleaning lady well, she somewhat resembles me. " Baby come back, you can blame it all on me. I was wrong, and I just can't live without you!

What price are you willing to pay?

I saw one of those snipe signs the other day advertising "photo facials" for a bargain. Earlier that morning I had been cleaning out a cabinet and found a Starbucks gift card. Dancing around in happiness I thought, "damn, found money, it must be my lucky day"! So, I was on my way into Starbucks, (yes, this was before I got the new pot) and I saw this sign advertising facials. I'd been thinking about getting a "renue" facial for awhile, but had decided it was too expensive. For some reason, I needed to keep reminding myself that getting expensive facials was the old me. In my new world I go to CVS and get some scrubbing bubbles. Living with this constant struggle between the old me and the new is exhausting and sometimes I lose control... I called anyhow, couldn't resist. The lady that answered told me their location was right around the corner . When I still couldn't place it, she said, "Oh, we are inside the weight loss clinic". My first thought was really? There is a weight loss clinic in my neighborhood? She went on to tell me about the "med spa" options for facials and the price was three times lower than what my dermatologist charges. It was so low in fact, I actually ask, "what'd you guys do, steal it"? Without missing a beat, she replied, "the guy who owns the lasers really wants to help all the poor people (unemployed, I am thinking) age more gracefully....so he makes it affordable". "He wants to get the word out on the streets, that there is hope for people like you; people like you that used to blow your nose at Med Spa's, opting instead for high priced plastic surgeons and such, we are for the people". Not a bad deal and I was sucked right into her spiel, after all, she understood me. So, I am thinking about it. Really, what is holding me back is the weight clinic deal. If I go in there, are they going to automatically say, "oh, you are here for the weight deal, strip to your panties and step on the scale"? I see myself sucking it in and protesting, "no..... really, I am here for a facial sand blasting". Then they will give me a blank stare and try to offer me some two for one deal, lose weight while you lose those stubborn wrinkles. That will just get me in an even worse mood and I will probably say something a little caustic and there will be looks exchanged between staff members thinking, "Ahhh, nothing worse than an angry, fat woman " and blah, blah, blah. And since they are right in my neighborhood, I will have to worry about running into those skinny little bizniche-nurses at Publix and risk them looking over the items in my cart. "I see, do you really think those Cameo cookies are necessary" and "those 100 calorie chips, you do realize it is only 100 calories if you eat a single bag"? Do I really want to risk ruining my Publix experience for a cheap facial? Publix, if you don't know by now, has quickly usurped most other activities in my life and become the hi-light of my afternoon. Will the risk of having beautiful skin for a bargain compensate for the potential trouble? I'm not sure. I am still mulling it over. But in the mean time, tomorrow when I set off for my morning walk with my brand new sexy little fluorescent green Nano, I may just walk past that office and peek in the windows...

The perfect cup of Joe!

Today, I was on a mission. My quest- to find a new coffee pot and a new Ipod. We haven't had a working coffee pot in our home for months now. For awhile, it was OK, as I was on a hot tea kick. I'd read somewhere that green tea and black tea was good for you, and I thought why not? I mean, I was already on a health kick, drinking red wine on a real regular basis, why not add tea to the equation? The problem with me and tea is this- I get so blasted sick of it! But in the past five years I have had at least eight new coffee pots, yeah- not a real great track record. I have had an expensive Italian capoo maker, and one of those pots where the water is always ready, a stainless steel really cool looking pot, several french presses and some other "faceless" brands. I knew I was looking for this new magic genie to work with pods. One of the things about my last twelve pots that made me so bitter was having to clean out the grinds. I don't know how the rest of you feel about that, but it quickly developed into the task I dreaded most in life! I tried to trick myself and do it the night before, but then I'd just end my day in a bad mood, if by chance I wasn't already. Yes. Most definitely. The new pot was not to grind ANYTHING. With the pods, I pictured myself waltzing into the kitchen, opening the hatch and simply lifting out the spent pod and tossing it into the trash- easy does it. I am all about simplifying my existence, and if my carbon footprint gets a little bigger in the process, I am sorry, I really am. But know this, I do know where the line is and I wouldn't think of stepping over it OR on those adorable little sea turtles and I always slow down for manatee crossings. Furthermore, and for the record I never thought it was a good idea to name our boat, Manatee Killer... So back to my coffee mission, two of my sisters have the Senseo coffee pot and having stayed with both of them recently on two different coasts, I decided to give it a try. But, the reason I was at first reluctant to bite on the Senseo pod was we'd already owned that piece of crap coffee pot- long before my sisters made it so popular. It was one of the worst pots we'd tried to date, leaking all over the counter-top, more times than not. By the time we'd given up on it, we were more than ready to drop kick it right out past our empty recycle container to the trash! But because my always well intentioned sisters both took the time to educate me on the Senseo's odd particularities, I realized the error of my way. You have to make the coffee in a particular order, using the exact right pod holder, seat a perfectly balanced pod and finally click your heels together while uttering the Hail Mary, preferably in Spanish and presto, just like that- you have an outstanding cup of coffee! There was one small problem I encountered on my way to seeking coffee perfection... Target stopped carrying the brand and Kmart had never heard of it. Just about ready to give up, I remembered my favorite store of all, Bed, Bath and Beyond..enter the land of every gadget ever shown on late night TV! On this trip my hubby was waiting in the car, so I didn't have time to do the usual, and load my cart full of Ginsu knifes, oxy cleans and steam mops. Today I was gonna get that coffee pot! I had already pictured myself getting up Sunday morning, ahhhh.. the Times and a hot steaming mug of Joe, my toes were curling in anticipation! Starting Sunday morning, Starbucks stock was gonna be taking another dip, thanks to my new pot. Well, as it turns out, BB&B didn't have the Senso either. Ha, probably because the only two people here on earth that didn't open their back door and heave it out were my two sissy's! I did find a new coffee pot though, and it has to be a winner. The coffee pods that are sold with it come in tons of different flavors, but the one that caught my eye and helped make my purchase decision was the one called "Donut Shop"! OMG! Was that marketing genius or what? Who could turn this down? Mentally,I was quickly painting a new picture of my Sunday morning bliss and now Krispy Kreme was involved. Good thing I bought my new Ipod too. Now mornings spent with the "donut shop" will be guilt free. I will just put those head phones on and march off that donut!

"Heads up"!

Recently, I attended an event where the guest speaker told the audience, we needed to "lean into" this recession. He then went on to re-use this bugger phrase multiple times during his ten minute-too long speech. I looked around and people were nodding their heads, some were even taking his annoying blurb literally and actually leaning in their seats. I quickly straightened up in my seat, lest anyone think I was buying into this "leaning" business. But what it reminded me of was all the most annoying phrases I used to use and be subjected to in the corporate world.
"Wow, your email really lit a fire under me". Really? And here I thought that fire was coming from your panty hose. OR, "going forward" we'll be able to "pick the low hanging fruit". Fruit? OK, because last time I looked we were trying to build houses and while I worked with some fruits, they were not for the picking! How about "heads up people"? While it was true, most us did have our heads down on the conference table, why bother us? We were quite comfortable, after all, business was booming! But considering "our current economic situation" maybe that is a "moot point", or as one especially attractive, young sales agent used to say in group meetings, "that's a mute point". If only life in corporate world were that easy, we'd all be hitting the "mute" button more often than the "easy" button! I guess every industry has their own unique colloquialism with some worse than others... Now that I have joined the world of blog, I find myself typing words like, "gonna, hafta, gotta and getta" . But my personal favorite is, " Ima ass and your an ass". No disrespect intended here, but you gotta admit it to yourself, people in general well... are asses. Of course, present company is excluded. But the common man on the street? What an ass!
Come on, admit it. How many times have you been in the car and you have muttered the word ass? It just works and makes you feel complete. Of course there are some situations that require more horse power and you are inclined to add that perfect verb or noun to fully explain how you are really feeling and to make sure others understand just how serious the situation really is. Adding "wipe, breath, face or "for brains" is often all it takes. Hopefully, the few blog followers that I have won't be offended with this content, I mean it is not as if I dropped the fbomb or anything. But I just want to be sure that
“at the end of the day we’ll all be reading from the same sheet of music.” After all, "it is what it is"!

Uber Boot

I was ready to sign up for Boot Camp. I started one earlier in the year and then got side tracked with my trip to Hollywood with HGTV (I know, but it does make me sound more interesting!).

I saw the sign for this "camp", yeah I know, camp is a misnomer. Trust me, "I know camp-and you sir, are no camp."

But I had finally convinced myself that the swishing sound behind me was more than a mere stalker, it was my ass.

Having made procrastination an art form, it still took me several weeks to make my move. And as my luck would have it, I had already missed the first class.

I made it to the second class bright and early Thursday morning. Before I even arrived, I had already decided that the typical "camper" profile would be just like me, over thirty and under sixty, and out of shape.

Ha, out of shape is a nice way of saying, "Hun-nay, you big gurl," as they say in the Asian nail salons (another story).

But undeterred I donned a new white zippy, thinking white will make me look more athletic than the usual black.
I cautiously entered the gym and stopped a group of women sort of congregating together, and that should have been my first clue!
They all seemed to know each other. Duh...turns out they'd all done the 7:00am- 8:15am kick box class, their idea of a warm up.

I had warmed up too... ate three frozen Cameo cookies, cutting back as I didn't want to risk filling up.

Still I was feeling a little nervous and scanned the group for someone that appeared to be closest to my ability level...still scanning...


A whistle blew just above my right ear. For a moment I wasn't sure I'd ever hear again.

Startled, I twirled around. The guy with the whistle was about 6'2", 200 pound African American and other than the whistle he wasn't wearing much else.

OK, settle down, he had on shorts, but it took me awhile to get there, as he'd taken off his shirt. All I will say is, I don't know much about muscles and such, but he had some and than some.

He yelled for us all to line up and start doing jumping jacks.

I was like, really? Aren't we going take roll and get to know each other?

Evidently not. I started to do the first jumping jacks I'd done in over a decade. Yeah, I know but- how in the world can you do jumping jacks and not spill your wine all over yourself?

And for something that looks so easy, they sure are hard. Try clapping your hands together above your head, while attempting to keep your breasts from knocking out your neighbor .

My arms stopped going all the way up after about ten. Then Mister Drill Sergeant roared for us to drop to the floor and give him twenty.

Twenty what, I thought while groaning in despair, "Hey pal, how about if I slap you ten and you forget you ever saw me"?

After doing only three "girlie" push-ups I found myself watching the instructor and then only moving when he was looking my way!

To say I was looking for a way out was an understatement.

And, I almost had it.

Next thing I know we are running out the front door of the gym and he is hollering, "Get in formation, ladies."

Ha, ladies. We may have all been girls, but we were no ladies at that point.

It was then that I knew I had to get out and get out quick!

Right across the parking lot was a Starbucks. If I could make it there, I'd be safe. Free to mingle with my own sweat-free type. I could cocoon myself in one of their over-stuffed crushed velvet chairs and hide behind a New York Times.

Yeah, the thought of a Venti, non-fat, 3 splenda cappo would do the trick.

Make me forget about those jumping jacks and give me a chance to fix my now broken bra strap. Plus that location would offer me the added benefit of watching the other suckers that hadn't given up as they dropped to their death.

My escape plan was complete and I was now fully ready for its execution.

But just as I turned to break free from the pack of now rabid women, Mr. Drill Sergeant put his bead on me. He jogged over to the spot I was getting ready to vacate and said, "I know you think this is really hard now, but just wait- in six weeks you will be amazed at what you can do."


It was hard for me to even pretend to smile because there was no moisture left in my mouth, and I was heaving so hard.

But I thought to myself, Seriously?

The best I can hope for in six weeks is that my friends and family will still be grieving for the loss of yours truly.

Yeah, they will all be whispering to each other,"If only she hadn't tried to do so much so soon." Rest in Peace.

Lite Bites make me angry!

Tonight is going to be a big night! Going to the Enzian Theater for the opening night party of the International Film Fest. Yeah, I will be leaving the warm security of my house, my cozy, new friend, the house that I have recently become so attached to. I will have to take off my favorite zippy and wear something respectable for a change. You know, the other day I went prom dress shopping with my fabulous daughter, we left around 2pm and I turned to her and said, "Wow, everything looks so bright out here"...Lately when I leave the house it is closer to dusk and then it is just a quick trip to see my friends at Publix. Now, before all of you get worried, or for those of you that are saying to yourselves, "I just knew it!, she has really lost it". Fear not. This is just the new me, entering the next phase of my life. I'll have you know I have given up the sedation of Boggle on line for Mafia Wars, where I get much more exposure to the real world! I am making more money per minute on Mafia Wars than I ever made in real life and I can do all this from the privacy of my own home. OK, now back to this evening. For those of you that have never been, the Enzian is a must. It is this artsy, Winter Parky theater that has a great outdoor bar and runs less than mainstream films. The first film I saw here was subtitled and in my little narrow minded way, that bugged me. I mean, I have to work while I watch? The only work I was up for was working on that pitcher of Amber Bok and sampling the little tasty morsels we'd ordered- "a lite bite". Lite bites always get me in a bad mood. I just know a lite bite will not do it for me. I want the "big bite" menu, but that is so just not p.c. today. I know our waiter was thinking, "yeah, you look like you've been ordering off the big bite menu, time for you to gear down"...
Anyhow, we will be seeing the opening of Jennifer Aniston's new film called Management and the after party is some famous chef off some reality show (ha, who would do that?) and area celebrity chefs cooking up a storm. I just hope they offer some good wines. Seriously, I remember one time when I was on a diet, I only got up in the morning so that I wouldn't miss a meal, Now, I get up in the morning because it gets me one step closer to "wine" hour that evening. Does that mean I am turning into...gasp....a wine-o? Worry not, this is only a phase!