Tag Archives: Netflix

Awaiting the Return of Chatty Cathy

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I’m writing this on Friday at 6:15 p.m. and I’ll have you know it’s pretty much the first time I’ve sat up all day. Yes, friends, I’m sick. A sicko. Under the weather. A bit peaked. In other words, I don’t feel well. I’ll pause here to give you time to feel sorry for me before I continue. Done feeling sorry? Then let’s continue.

sorry-youre-sick

The reason this is a big deal is because I hardly ever get sick. Seriously. Mind over matter. I get injured frequently, but not sick. When I feel I’m not up to par in the energy department, I tell myself: I feel good, I feel great. I down a packet of Emergen-C, get to bed before midnight, and the next morning, bingo-bango. I’m me again.

emergen-c

The last time I was this sick was on a trip to Spain in 2013. Just like now, I lost my voice, acquired bronchitis, and was knocked hard on my butt. I don’t mind the coughing all night, having to sleep upright, nor the disgusting stuff one coughs up with bronchitis. But losing my voice? That’s torture for me. I can’t speak for my friends (or to them!) but my guess is they’re enjoying the silence. Sadly for them, I’ve become quicker at texting.

no-voice

Remember Chatty Cathy dolls? No? Then you’re too young. Anyway, you pull the cord and she talks. I guess you could say I’m a larger version of her. But now my cord is jammed. Curse you bronchitis! So today I stayed prone just about all day. I know I’m sick when I’m not hungry, but I forced myself to eat a pear this afternoon at 2:30, then I napped.

chatty-cathy

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A Wonderfully Selfish Day

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Did you have a happy Thanksgiving? Personally, I had a selfish one and enjoyed every minute of it. Yes, I opted to spend Thanksgiving alone, if you don’t count my 10 pets. Now don’t get me wrong; I realize I sound uncaring saying that about a day when we gather to celebrate who and what we are most thankful for. And I passed. Shame on me, right?

I’m busy. You’re busy. Everyone’s busy. And for me to get a day where I don’t have to leave the house is essentially nonexistent. Pretty much daily I either trap feral cats, visit properties to re-home them, receive calls, texts and emails about them, or take them to and from the vet. Ferals, ferals, ferals…

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The Situation

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So here’s the situation. It’s 8:00 p.m. on Saturday night. I just spent the day cleaning my garage. Loads of fun. I’m grimy, dusty and full of chili because after I spent the day cleaning my garage I made a pot of veggie chili. Then I made macaroni noodles to put the chili on because that’s how my ex’s family did it in Kansas City. So since 1982, when we married, that’s how I’ve eaten it and now I can’t eat naked chili.

Anyway, now I’m stuffed. I also fed my animal crew and my foster cat, all of whom I assume are stuffed as well. My foster cat is nameless because I don’t permanently name them until I know they’ll be adoptable. I foster feral kittens and semi-feral cats. For some reason it’s harder for me to have to relocate them to outdoor homes (if they’re too feral to be adopted) after I’ve named them. Weird, huh?

So when I enter the room in which I’m housing a big orange tabby female, I say ‘Hey Boo Boo.” No reaction. Sometimes I say, “Hey Monkey.” But again, no response. I’ll try on a bunch of names during the time I’m fostering but once I realize that cat or kitten will be adoptable, a name will suddenly hit me and that’s the one that sticks.

Whats-Your-Name

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The Situation

Posted on by

So here’s the situation. It’s 8:00 p.m. on Saturday night. I just spent the day cleaning my garage. Loads of fun. I’m grimy, dusty and full of chili because after I spent the day cleaning my garage I made a pot of veggie chili. Then I made macaroni noodles to put the chili on because that’s how my ex’s family did it in Kansas City. So since 1982, when we married, that’s how I’ve eaten it and now I can’t eat naked chili.

Anyway, now I’m stuffed. I also fed my animal crew and my foster cat, all of whom I assume are stuffed as well. My foster cat is nameless because I don’t permanently name them until I know they’ll be adoptable. I foster feral kittens and semi-feral cats. For some reason it’s harder for me to have to relocate them to outdoor homes (if they’re too feral to be adopted) after I’ve named them. Weird, huh?

So when I enter the room in which I’m housing a big orange tabby female, I say ‘Hey Boo Boo.” No reaction. Sometimes I say, “Hey Monkey.” But again, no response. I’ll try on a bunch of names during the time I’m fostering but once I realize that cat or kitten will be adoptable, a name will suddenly hit me and that’s the one that sticks.

Whats-Your-Name

Continue reading →