Ugh!

You know those days when you have a ton of thoughts running through your head, but nothing to say. Today is one of those days. I just don't know what to say. So I will ramble. For some reason I cannot handle life changing in the blink of an eye, yet it happens. Actually it is not that I can't handle it, I can, for I have no other choice. I don't want to handle it. I don't want to expend the energy, either mental or physical, to change course to develop a new perspective. After all I put so much time and energy into the old perspective. I realize that change does not always come in the form of monumental occasions. It comes all day, every day. Life moves forward, and forward means alteration. There is no hanging on to yesterday, the morning before, the hour before, the moment before, or the thought before. Life is continuous movement from one second to the next, from one breath to the next. There is no stopping it. Terrifying.

"There is nothing to fear but fear itself." The fear of fear is better known as anxiety. The fear that something might, possibly happen and I have convinced myself that it will be the worst possible thing that could happen. I hold my breath hoping that it won't happen, but my mind won't let go of the thought that it will. So does the anxiety disappear once that "thing" has happened. Once the fear has been realized and conquered? Who knows? I am supposed to know. I wish I knew better.

I just don't know what to say.

There is a fine line between sanity and insanity. Sometimes that line breaks for just a brief instant, and sometimes it disappears never to be recovered. The blessing in this comes in the grace that those who are truly insane are oblivious to their plight, while those who still have it fight very hard to keep it. Wouldn’t it be easier to just give up the fight and live in blissful ignorance? Sometimes I wonder.

I just don’t know. Sometimes I think I do, and then something happens and all I have a questions. Endless, unanswerable questions.

How to Make A Cat Hate You

Okay, so it's not like this one is too hard. I think you actually have to work overtime to NOT get your cats to hate you. However if you ever need a sure fire way to turn your mostly gentle and docile feline into a raging maniac, I have the answer.

First, despite your better judgment you enter Bed, Bath, and Beyond with three children in tow who have spent the last four hours of their life grocery shopping.

Second, again against your better judgment allow your shopping weary children to talk you into purchasing one of the "as seen on T.V." gadgets aka The “Pedi-Paws.”

Third, for a moment forget that your children do not actually have the cognitive ability to think logically, and actually believe their long speech about how the cats need their nails trimmed, and this will be so much easier than clipping them as they endlessly recite the annoying commercial to you (while you are half listening and trying to maintain every ounce of sanity left). Did I mention that I had been shopping with three children all day?

Fourth, locate “C” batteries for new contraption.

Fifth, read the directions VERY carefully because that is what the box says to do. CAUTION!!! Read all direction carefully before using this product. The directions say something like yadda, yadda, yadda, you may have to lie on your pet until they get used the sound and feel of the monster, time saving gizmo. But, remember you are CRAZY in charge, and your animal needs to know that you are CRAZY in control. They may as well have written. WARNING! IDIOT! THIS THING DOES NOT ACTUALLY WORK! IT IS ACTUALLY A SECRET PSYCHOLOGICAL TEST ASSESSING THE LEVEL OF MORANIC COMMERCIALSM PEOPLE LIKE YOU WILL STOOP TO. Now that I think about it, there were NO pictures of cats on the directions. Only a dog.

Sixth, find your unsuspecting victim, I mean cat, and pet him lovingly like one who is enticing a victim to certain doom. Hold cat down, Lie on top of the cat (but not too hard), find a claw, attempt to “file” the nail with the mini-buzz saw, calmly, easily, and effectively. Just like the commercial says. YEAH, RIGHT! Cat squirms, cat meows, cat makes God awful noises that I am sure are only heard in the depths of torture chambers, ummm, I mean psychological interviewing cubicles. Walla! Forty Five Minutes later, multiple attempts to restrain a cat. Did you hear me!!!!! I have sunk to new levels. I actually attempted to restrain a cat! What is wrong with me? Anyway, back to it. Multiple attempts to calm the cat and convince him that he was all right (oh yeah, I so lied), three scratches, and sweaty pajamas later we have 18 un-perfectly groomed claws. The cat got up and looked at me with that look that says, “WHAT DID YOU DO!” I HATE YOU! I WILL PEE ON YOUR CARPET FOR THAT and walks away.

Seventh, find the smallest cat and try it all again! Because the first time was soo successful. Again,multiple attempts to calm the cat, wrap the cat in a towel in order to avoid being ripped to shreds by the razor sharp claws you are so carefully trying to file down, listen to the bigger cat in no uncertain terms tell me that if I did not free his brother, my hostage, he would pee on my bed tonight, endure several scratches, and listen to the poor cat scream like a banshee, finally give up.

Eighth, try to appease the freshly tortured cats with bacon and ham, and whatever else they might like. FYI, cats are NOT forgiving creatures and their forgiveness cannot be bought with food, until children and dogs.

Ninth, return said tool of the devil, contraption to the store. When the nice lady at the counter asks me why I would like to return such a wonderful tool I kindly reply, “My cats now hate me, and I just don’t think it is worth dying to have perfectly groomed claws.” There has got to be a better way. And that is how to make a cat hate you.

A Helping Hand to Crazy

This is it. The last night of Christmas vacation. Tomorrow starts the daily grind of early mornings, coffee before I can see straight, showers, breakfast, lunches, backpacks, and "good-bye, have a good day, I'll see you when I get home." In preparation for the upcoming return to madness I decided to make jell-o and pudding for the kids to take in their lunches. Somehow I feel better about making the stuff myself instead of buying the way over priced pre-packaged stuff from Wal-Mart. Anyway, so I am very busy laboring hard holding my newly purchased hand mixer (the old one finally gave up after fifteen and a half years of service) when my middle child asks me what I am doing (duuuhhhh!) So I give her my usual answer, "Going crazy." To which she replies (obviously not hearing my witty answer to her question), "Can I help." My husband who is busy looking at different shelf designs to build in the garage interrupts his research project an pipes in, "You mother does not need any help going crazy!" Truer words were never spoken. I have not met a mother yet who needed any extra help on her way to crazy.

Seven Minutes

I posted this yesterday on a different blog (one that has been created just for "family stuff" that doesn't actually have anything on it yet.)

I have seven minutes. Seven minutes until I have to drag my sorry butt out to the lobby of my office building and sit through another uneventful staff meeting. According to my strenghtsfinder profile, meetings are NOT my thing. I have always known that, I just thought it was a flaw. Now I know it has been a strength all along.

I have seven minutes to avoid another report.

Seven minutes to feel the fatigue settle into my body.

Six minutes to wonder if the snow is ever going to start falling or are the weather men just another source of disappointment as they spew forth their false prophecies.

Six minutes to wish I was at home in front of my fire place actually finishing the Christmas cards I attempted to make, but are not getting in the mail. At least not this year.

Six minutes to remember how tired I am. The last eight weeks have been long, and intense, and draining. I am just as tired as my students are, and I am looking forward to a break.

Five minutes. Five minutes to wonder about my life, my future, my present. Five minutes to ponder that an hour of my life is about to be totally wasted and I will NEVER get it back. NEVER!

Four minutes. Wow the time is going by so fast. What can a person really do in four minutes anyway? One should never take the small minutes for granted. It is after all in the blink on an eye that everything has the potential to change. What would some people do for just for more minutes?

Three minutes. I suppose I should run the spell check and post this blog before it forever gets lost in my blog archive. You know that ones I started to write, but are still sitting there waiting for me to have a few spare minutes to finish. Hmmmm, maybe . ..

Two minutes. The time is ticking way. I guess I'll have to face the music. The lobby calls. Duty calls . . . ..

One minute. .

Thankful Thoughts

THINGS TO BE THANKFUL FOR

Frosty mornings . . .

Sunshine . . .

A fantastic fireplace . . .

A fresh cup of coffee with peppermint creamer in a gorgeous garnet red cup . . .

Peanut Butter and Bananna's for breakfast . . .

Children who can make their own breakfast . . .

Sleeping past 5:40am . . . .

Heated mattress pads . . .

Hot showers . . .

Intoxicating aroma of bath gel . . .

Food in the pantry . . .

A job . . .

A pay check . . . .

Great friends, old and new . . . .

A supportive husband . . .

Beautiful, thoughful, helpful children . . .

An active, full of life, son . . .

Daughters who are willing, and capable of helping make our part of Thanksgiving dinner . . .

Friends who are willing to host Thanksgiving dinner . . .

That the Star Merc had six cans of yams left at 8:35pm last night . . .

That the Star Merc had bathrooms that were not scary beyond all belief . . .

Cats that are at times (usually at times I want to be asleep) more entertaining than T.V. . . .

A home I can call my own . . .

A car that starts every morning when I turn the key . . .

Life and Love . . .

Double Digits

Myranda turns ten today. Since she is the middle child, and is often lost between the demands of her older and younger siblings, I thought I would get a head start on announcing her birthday to the world!

As I write I am a little blurry eyed from the long weekend of birthday fun. Especially the lack of sleep that comes from hosting her first big sleep over party. I think I was only awakened a couple of times from my deep slumber by the four pre-teens laughing endlessly as they were working off an ice cream sundae buzz until 3:00am.

Myranda is an amazing child, actually person. I think I can honestly say she is like no other. I think she wins the prize for being the family member who was born furthest from her family roots in Oregon. She made herself into this world in Decatur, IL. Half the country away from where she now lives.

She loves animals. It was mostly for her sake that we now have two fur balls running around our house. She is really, really, smart (but she usually keeps this a well-hidden weapon in her secret arsenal). It is not usually her quick whit and unarming intellectual conversation that will capture your attention. It is more like the seemingly unrelated, off the wall comment that comes a full five minutes after the end of that particular conversation was over. I refer back to the secret arsenal. She just wanted to make sure her quick whit did not come at you so fast it knocked you on your rear.

She is amazingly kind, helpful, and full of life and laughter. Happy Ten Years Little Miss.


**Photo background compliments of what we on the "other side of the fence" call professional landscape artists (courtesy of home owner association fees). We LOVE them. They make the desert look real purdy. This photo was taken in front of one of the subdivision entrances down the road from our house.

Today I Was Lazy

Well sort off. I guess about as lazy as I get. I cancelled my whole afternoon and came home and took a nap. I have a little cold. It isn't a really bad one, just enough to be annoying really. I felt a little worse than I did yesterday, but not to the point of misery yet. Right now it is at the "as long as I don't move I feel fine" stage. If I move, well that is a whole other story.

Anyway . . . I was in my office this morning thinking to myself (something I do A LOT of), self I don't feel really good. Oh, look. I rushed to the office and my first two client's cancelled. I have a ton of billing to do, reports to write, evaluations to proof read, classes to prepare for, classes to teach, papers to grade, a child's birthday party to prepare for, and Thanksgiving next week. I am sure your head is spinning by now, just as mine was this morning. I can swear that my head was not spinning from the lousy side effects of cold medicine. Anyhow after I finished my long mental "to do list" I thought to myself; I am going home. I am tired, I have a lot to do, and no chances to get any extra rest in the next 48 hours and I need some sleep. So I did. I left right then. Well, actually I left after I called all my clients, after I caught up to yesterday on my billing, after I printed a report to proof, and after I met with my supervisor. Then I did it. I left work early, went home, and took a nap. I was awakened by the cheerful and puzzled sound of my son's voice saying "mom!?" That is the puzzled sound of a child who is not used to his mother being home before he is.



See, I told you I was lazy today.