Lunching With Friends

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I think was born in the wrong country. Now don’t get me wrong; I enjoy being an American…wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. My ancestry is half Portuguese along with English, Irish and a touch of Welsh. That’s fine and dandy, but I have reason to believe two countries have been hiding inside me, mainly on my taste buds.

Ever since I had my first taste of Thai and Vietnamese food many moons ago, I’ve been smitten. Both are now mouth-watering favorites I wish I’d discovered way sooner. But here’s the good news…

My friend Mandy happens to live across the street from a woman from Thailand and she taught Mandy the art of cooking Thai food. Turns out it pays to know people who live across the street from a Thai cook. Lucky us!

Mandy
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Meeting Officer Allen

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Last Friday I’m driving to Forgotten Felines to deliver feral cats being relocated to new outdoor homes. On the way, I stopped to train a group of ladies who volunteered to feed cats living near the fairgrounds.

forgotten-felines

While at a stoplight, my phone pinged. I glanced at it on the passenger seat. It was Forgotten Felines. Why were they contacting me? Something must be wrong. So I picked up my phone to read the text. Damn! It said they needed to postpone until Monday but to keep driving if I’m already on my way.

Relieved, I put the phone down. Then I glanced to my left. There, staring back at me, was a policeman.

oops

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Yep, I’m a Sucker

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There, I said it. I’m not exactly proud of it, but I’m not embarrassed by it either. It is what it is. To be honest, I’m actually okay with it and I’ll tell you why.

As you know, I’m an animal person. I’ve had many cats and dogs in my lifetime so I can’t imagine not having pets living with me. Working in cat rescue, I’ve fostered 272 kittens to date. Over the years, my menagerie grew as I’d add a cat to the count here and there when one of my fosters wasn’t going to be adoptable. I ask you,

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Even-Tempered and Happy-Go-Lucky

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I want to scream. I’m talking the kind of scream where I throw myself on the ground like a 5-year-old having a tantrum, legs kicking wildly, arms flailing, red faced and near tears. THAT kind of scream.

screaming-girl

So what could cause me, a normally even-tempered, happy-go-lucky gal to feel this way? Two words…a dishwasher. God help me (and everyone around me) if another of my appliances bites the dust. I’m at the point with this Bosch dishwasher that I’d throw it through a window if I could lift it. Which I can’t. So I won’t.

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My Pets are Weirdos

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Originally posted in 2018

Let me repeat: My pets are weirdos.

So what does that say about me? After all, I’m the common denominator. That doesn’t mean I think Nellie, Callie, Skip, Wally, Oliver, Savannah, Tippi, and Jack are flawed. Quite the contrary. They may be odd but they provide endless entertainment through their weirdness. And anyway, aren’t we all a little odd? Therefore, I’ll gladly take credit for their, shall we say, unique qualities.

weirdos2

As you all know, Nellie eats poop so I’m used to that weird trait of hers. But another thing she does (when she thinks I’m not looking) is to leap onto the bed immediately after I’m done making it. She gathers the sheets and comforter into a tiny mountain in the middle of the bed, then plops herself on it and promptly takes a nap. A particularly annoying weirdness.

Rather proud of herself
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