Cat Lady

Last night I was watching our cat GiGi trying to catch a bug that was flying around the bedroom. At one point, she stood completely upright on her hind legs and kept clasping her front paws together. She looked like she was clapping but in actuality she was trying to snatch up the bug between her paws. It was the damndest cutest thing ever.

It made me remember how back in my single days I was so afraid I would become the wretched neighborhood cat lady, hiding behind dark curtains, hoarding 78 cats, leaving the house only to buy Fancy Feast, school kids throwing eggs at my house on Halloween.

But what’s funny is when I was single I had no cats. Now that I am married I have two. And I hide behind dark curtains and school kids throw eggs at my house on Halloween.

Just kidding.

But have you seen that woman Jocelyn who has had so much plastic surgery her face actually looks like a wild cat? Seriously! I believe that was her intent, though I can’t say for sure.

Sometimes I wish I were a cat, so on bad days I could just hide in the dark under the bed. I could be snobby and prissy and nobody would think twice about it. I could sit on a warm breezy windowsill and observe the humans as if they were put on this earth just for my entertainment. I could literally walk all over my owners, waking them from their deep slumber, and get away with it unscathed, because I am just the damndest cutest thing ever.


Cats were put into the world to disprove the dogma that all things were created to serve man. ~ Paul Gray

Friday

And on the Seventh Day she rested.

Say Cheese!

I was sarcastically referred to by someone today as “Linda? You mean the shiny happy one?” - or something to that effect. So, okay, I will be the first to admit I don’t walk around with a smile plastered on my face. I can be moody, oftentimes cranky, and sometimes I am just plain sullen. Nothing irritates me more than a complete stranger walking by me in public saying “Hey, smile!” Who are they to tell me how to emote, how to project myself, and how to feel? They have no idea what is going on inside my head, in my life, or in the deep recesses of my psyche. The truth is, I am a quiet reflective person. Perhaps I feel the hurts of the world more than others. Perhaps I woke up on the wrong side of the bed after not sleeping quite so well, with a cat incessantly whining and screaming in my ear (literally), as it just so happens each and every single morning, day after day, week after week.   Or…perhaps…I…just…don’t…like you....

But not you, of course, dear reader of my blog.

I just wanted to say I appreciate you all taking the time to read my thoughts and words, and for all the positive feedback I’ve gotten. This is actually fun for me and something I’ve been meaning to do for a while and have finally gotten around to actually doing it. So, thanks for being part of it! Please take two minutes to watch the video clip below…because guess what? It made me smile.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ps6ck1ejoAw

My Girl

I just watched Kelly Osbourne’s dance performance online, from last night’s DWTS. She did a great job and received much applause. I actually had tears in my eyes, seeing how happy she looked that she pulled it off, one of the best dances of the night - tough tomboy rocker chick turned graceful and beautiful. Her parents were in the audience, and to see their reactions, tears streaming down their faces, at how proud they were of her -- say what you will about Ozzie, but that family has been through a lot (multiple drug rehabs for father, daughter, and son; cancer survival; near-fatal accident), and seeing them still come together and act like a close-knit family is amazing to me. You should find the video clip online and watch it.  It’s worth it to see Ozzie brought to tears over his daughter’s debut dance performance. It was sweet. And here you thought he was a hard-core heavy metal dude who didn’t give a damn about anything.

Also in today’s headlines, Mackenzie Phillips has just revealed she had a 10-year (consensual) incestuous relationship with her father (John Phillips of the Mamas & the Papas). She also claims he was the one who first shot her up with drugs. Nice. And guess what? He was an easy-breezy lite-FM folk singer.

Our mind is capable of passing beyond the dividing line we have drawn for it. Beyond the pairs of opposites of which the world consists, other, new insights begin. ~Hermann Hesse

Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific

Remember that shampoo?  I don’t think they make it anymore. And I don’t think anybody uses the word “terrific” anymore either. I have the DVD box sets of That Girl, and Marlo Thomas’ character says it all the time: “Gee, Donald, wouldn’t that be terrific?” “Oh, Donald, that’s just terrific!” and “Yes, daddy, that sure is terrific!” I guess the word terrific has had many transformations throughout the years: groovy, cool, bad, sweet.

Back then we had That Girl. That Girl wouldn’t even sleep in the same hotel room as Donald when they were stranded during a snow storm, when the roads were impassable and there was nowhere else to go, even though he had been her gallant virtuous boyfriend for years, and even though he would have gladly and over-enthusiastically slept on the floor, without a pillow or blanket, even. But, if it wasn’t for That Girl we wouldn’t have had Sex & the City, which is just a terrific show.

See Dick Run.  Ha! A primary school book these days should read “Run, Joey, run! The homecoming queen’s got a gun!”

Entertainment in 1974:
Ohh Noo - It’s Mr. Bill!
Entertainment in 2004:
Kill Bill: Vol. 1.
Kill Bill: Vol. 2.
Kill Bill: Vol. 3.

In the 1980s, on every little girl’s wish list was a Cabbage Patch doll. This year I am sure Santa will be getting many requests for the Pole Dancer doll.  Have you seen that new little novelty?

All change is not growth, as all movement is not forward. ~Ellen Glasgow

It's All Smoke & Mirrors

I am troubled today. I have friends and a husband I trust. I trust in myself. I trust God’s green earth will continue to rotate on its axis. But however will I know which mirrors to trust? I always feel I look the best in my mirror at home. But maybe that’s just because I am used to the lighting and am comfortable in my surroundings? At home this morning I thought I looked great, my husband even told me so. But now here at work my make-up looks too dark, my eyes bloodshot, and my cheeks puffy. At work, the full-length mirror in our ladies’ room is warped. If you look in the left side, you are thin and beautiful and your clothes look great on you. But, if you step just a few inches to the right, you look bumpy, frumpy, and how-did-I-ever-go-to-work-looking-like-this? 

And what about fitting rooms, even at the most high-end stores? It never fails to shock me how nothing looks good. Is it the lighting? Are we too critical of ourselves, having to evaluate ourselves in such a small area with mirrors at all angles? Too much focus on the negative because there is nothing else for us to focus on? I am at a loss. They want you to look good in the clothes so you will buy them, so why aren’t fitting rooms more user-friendly? Put in mirrors that make us look skinny and we will buy, buy, and buy some more!

And who invented fluorescent lighting anyway?  Must have been a man.

“Vanity is so secure in the heart of man that everyone wants to be admired: even I who write this, and you who read this.” ~ Blaise Pascal

Fall Into It

Okay, so just hearing my husband’s grunts and groans from downstairs has given me my topic for today. Football season is here.  He is playing Madden 2010 on his PS3, shouting “run you little bastard!” (Actually, he shouts something that is not quite so politically correct which I will not repeat herein.) He is moaning as if he is in pain, and I imagine the stress and strain he is under is almost unbearable. If he doesn’t press the right button on the controller, he won’t make the field goal. If he covers his mouth when he coughs, he could miss an interception. Or horror of all horrors, if the cat crosses his path between his chair and the TV screen, he could make a fumble.

Football season to me means fall has finally arrived: inhaling cool crisp air, slipping on Ugg-like boots instead of flip-flops, and choosing between butternut or acorn squash at the supermarket. My cooking will soon switch from grilled meats with dry rubs to braised meats with Marsala wine. Just yesterday I switched out my summer clothes to wool and cotton sweaters. Shorter days and heating bills are on the horizon.

Any change of season is a good time for new goals and aspirations, a change of thought process, and a wake-up call that time is trudging along.  Fall is often a hard time to keep those goals as we know winter will soon be rearing its ugly head.  Already I am beginning to feel the urge to hibernate.  But I cannot wait to watch the leaves change color...

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
~Albert Camus

Red Red Wine, Stay Close to Me

I’ve gotten into the habit of drinking red wine in the evenings, especially on a cozy winter weekend. I will carry my delicate bulbous glass from room to room, downstairs to upstairs, wherever I happen to be going or whatever I happen to be doing. I am not a drunk, I do not (usually) over-imbibe. Sipping it just calms me, eases the day away, helping to melt the tension ever-present in my shoulders.

I never had a security blanket as a kid, and I wonder why do I need this pacifier now? Are our lives as women totally overbooked, overrun, overexposed? I work too much, this I know, for what used to be extra cash but now it has become a necessity. And owning a home is more than double the work and upkeep than living in an apartment, and then add a husband and finances into the mix. And working women with children, I don’t know how you do it.

In the song Red Red Wine, the singer finds it helps him to get over a lost love. Me, I find it helps me relax and fall asleep easier. And I have to shallowly admit, it just makes me feel like a sophisticated grownup. Not to mention, the many health benefits are well-documented. Even Newsweek magazine has published articles on reasons to drink wine. So, enjoy a glass yourself, and as someone very close to me used to say “Cheers, big ears!”

“In water one sees one’s own face; but in wine one beholds the heart of another.”
~French proverb

A Bad Hair Day

I have waited too long to get a hair cut.  The weather and my hair are tumbling into fall, and scissors have not touched my strands since the spring time.  My hair is wild and unmanageable, tamed only by a pony tail, or perhaps a pig tail, too, I suppose.  I cannot stand it any longer.  Tomorrow is the day.  A new me.  A makeover.  Monday at work I will be a new person.  I will have new hair, new clothes, new high heel dress boots.  That's what comes with a new hair cut.  Inspiration! 

I have found this is something men will never understand - what a bad hair day does to a woman.  Well, how about a bad hair month?  Imagine the consequences of that - ha!  I have just lived it.  I feel frumpy, my face looks long and drawn out, I look older than my years.  If the hair isn't good, who cares about the shoes?  And since the shoes make the outfit, if you don't care about the shoes, then why care about the outfit?  So, I've been schlumping it up these past few weeks...dressing for comfort, eh, you might say?  And once you're dressing for comfort, it's all down hill from there....