Does it count as writing if you have a new blog post open while you simultaneously play on Facebook and peel dead skin off the cat’s toes? The cat is purring.
Tag Archives: cat
A pointer for the cat unlucky enough to
be owned by own a small child:
When someone picks you up, make sure some runny poop squirts out of your butt and splatters on the wall. The amount of “affection” you receive will diminish significantly.
Waking to the sound
Of cat vomit better than
Finding it with toes
Sweet cat thanks for not
Vomiting on the carpet
Oh wait we have none
I’m awake now cat
And writing haikus you jerk
Daytime vomit please
In 1995 when I was eighteen and living in Utah with my boyfriend after dropping out of NYU (I know, I know — that’s another story), one of my boyfriend’s co-workers gave me a present. Everyone in the small town where we were living was Mormon, and this woman, Jennifer (I think she was divorced — god forbid!), wanted to support the pair of us — teenagers in love living in sin whilst everyone else shopped at the big Wal-Mart and hung out at church socials.
Jennifer gave me a racy, lacy two-piece lingerie set. It was a cream-colored cropped cami, and a matching pair of loose-fitting shorts — similar to the sort runners wore in the eighties (and hipsters wear ironically now), except with lace on the sides and a little off-white bow neatly stitched to the front center seam. It was probably the sexiest thing purchasable in our little town, and it was certainly the sexiest thing I owned. I was awed and a little embarrassed that an “old lady” (she was probably forty) would gift me with such a god’s-wrath-inducing outfit. At the same time, I loved it.
For weeks I meant to write her a thank you note. First, I got pretty busy at my mall job — you know, the one at the Hallmark store where I needed to dust scented candles and check back-stock on Precious Moments figurines? Then, I really didn’t know what to say to her. Then, I realized I was living in Utah, freaked out, and moved back to California taking the lingerie (but not the boyfriend) with me.
To this day (nearly twenty years later) I still haven’t put pen to paper to thank Jennifer (god, was that even her name? I think so). With every passing day, then week, then year, the task seemed more insurmountable, less worthwhile. Once I was back in California and the chance of running into Jennifer at Wal-Mart was almost non-existent, the urgency of writing the note faded even further, but I am still sometimes riddled with the guilt of unfinished business, unsaid thanks.
And so here I am, trying not to have a whole new list of Jennifers in my life. Starting last December (not yet half a year ago!) some very gracious and thoughtful ladies began gifting me with some blogging awards. I felt much the same as I did after receiving underwear from a near-stranger; I was flattered, and I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. Let me break the pattern and be a different woman than I was at eighteen!
Back in December, Mummy Big Bum, whom I feel like I know personally, even though she lives across the Pond and probably has a funny accent (I mean that in the nicest way), honored me with the Liebster Award. I feel like I know her because she has a delightfully honest way of sharing toddler hilarity — I feel like we are sitting and chatting over coffee (tea?) and sharing stories like the bestest gal pals. Her willingness to be vulnerable in her writing is a welcome respite from the snark that abounds in my world. Thank you, Mummy Big Bum! Please forgive my delayed reply. Can we blame it on the post?
As I understand it, in order to receive this award I am to pass it along to five other bloggers with fewer than 200 followers.
I am convinced that this woman has super powers. Not only is she consistently adding interesting and thoughtful posts to the Magical Interweb, she is one of the most generous and thoughtful “commenters” around. I frequently see her name popping up in the comments of blogs I also enjoy, and she always has a word of encouragement or heartfelt advice. I am honored to be on any list of hers.
In order to receive this award, I am to share seven secrets about myself, and pass the award along to fifteen other bloggers.
Apparently, the Versatile Blogger Award is so versatile someone thought to use a different icon for it:
I’ll take all the variations of versatile the Web has to offer, and I am especially thrilled that receiving this award introduced me to Three Descriptors. Between her recipes, book reviews and links to other interesting blogs, she is surely versatile, and I especially enjoy her flash fiction. Color me inspired!
And lastly, I knew if I waited long enough to respond, the ever-talented, Red would be hit again with a blogging award and, in turn, make me the lucky recipient of some more blog love. Thanks, Red. I am speechless (almost).
In order to receive this award, I am to share seven things about myself and pass along the bloggy love to fifteen bloggers.
OK. That’s it. The benefit of
being a procrastinating slacker who never posts waiting is that I am only going to post seven things about myself and fifteen blogs worthy of praise instead of twenty-one things, and fifty blogs. Procrastination does make life easier, see, Mom?
Also, because there is some part of my soul that is tormented by the “chain-letter” feeling I get when receiving/giving blogging “awards” I am not going to go and ping the receivers. If they come here and find the love and choose to take it on, right on! If they don’t, then no worries. You can go check out their stuff, and they’ll be none the wiser, and isn’t that the point of all this nonsense in the first place anyway?
Oh, and thank you, Jennifer! I loved the matching cami and undies set! It was super cute and aided in my fornication and provided much delight as I further established myself as a sinning, non-Mormon woman. You rock! And I hope you continued to give underwear to random half-Jewish women you met in Logan, Utah! Hallelujah!
Seven Random Facts about Moi:
1. I love cats. Really. I always have. I’m the proud owner of four volumes of Cat Books — photo albums into which I pasted pictures of cats cut from my Cat Fancy Magazine subscription starting at about age eight up through my early teens. I still look at them sometimes, and have been known to utter, “Oh! How cute!!
2. If I could eat nothing but pasta and chocolate for the rest of my life with no ill-effects I would agree in a heartbeat. Mmm… pasta! Mmm… chocolate!
3. I own over fifty exercise videos, and I sometimes talk along with the instructors (even the legwarmer-clad ones) whilst stepping to the beat. Yes, I have entertained the fantasy of donning legwarmers of my own and leading the class. ”And one-two-triple step…”
4. I am in touch with just about every ex-boyfriend I’ve ever had. I texted two of them tonight — one I dated in junior high, the other was my boyfriend the first year of high school.
5. My grandma died earlier this year. It took my family throwing a funeral for me to realize that they are pretty rad. I think one’s ability to throw a funeral says a lot about him or her. During the service, my not-yet-three-year-old daughter and I had a tea party with the miniature sample urns in the lobby of the funeral parlor. It is one of my proudest parenting moments.
6. I fit on my daughter’s Sit’n Spin. Really. I am wonderfully happy about this.
7. I just decided that my dining room table is so ugly that it is ok to put stickers on the legs of it — it can only improve the aesthetic. My daughter and I began the project about a week ago. We are not nearly half finished, and I love the glee I derive from sticking stickers in “forbidden” places. I also tried to steal the sticker my daughter earned from my dermatology appointment the other day for the table’s adornment. She removed it from the table leg and re-stuck it to her pajama shirt. I am hoping to retrieve it from the hamper. Really. I will use tape if I have to!
Fifteen Blogs I Enjoy:
Sometime in September, I started asking my not-yet-two-and-a-half-year-old what she wanted to be for Halloween. ”Cat!” she said loudly, and without hesitation, on my first query. Having spent much of my life around children, I was fully prepared for this answer to shift numerous times before October 31st. I put off acquiring fabric for some weeks, convinced things would change. Eventually, I got up the nerve to buy fabric and a pattern even — I hadn’t sewn with a pattern in over ten years. Sure that the non-returnable purchase of fabric and a pattern would change my child’s mind about her Halloween attire, I asked again what she wanted to be. ”Cat! A purple kitty-cat!” (Yes, I had just purchased purple fabric.)
My first stab at the pattern consisted of me cutting the fabric in half the wrong way. That was all I got done in two hours of work. Yep, that’s how good I am at pattern sewing. Weeks passed, and Halloween loomed in the not-too-distant future. Finally, after excessive use of the seam-ripper, I got to a place where there was actually a discernible costume for my child to don. At this point, I was sure she would flip out and reject it for being too purple or too fuzzy or too much manual labor performed by her mother. But the Child put it on and beamed. She clapped her paw-covered hands as she admired her kitty-self in the mirror.
That moment alone made my year. She likes it! She really likes it! I actually managed, with the help of some safety pins, to finish the costume before dark on Halloween. As per the Child’s instructions, I made myself a purple kitty tail and ears, and some pink dog ears and a tail for her father. ”Dada’s going to be a pink dog!” said she.
Halloween was a beautifully sunny day. I thought the heat might deter her from wearing her costume, but my sauna-suit kitty marched right along, zipper fully zipped, perky kitty ears perched on her hooded and sweaty head. She joined in a parade with a firetruck and all sorts of big kids. She meowed.
After the parade, some of her friends came over to our house and ate pizza on the floor, and no one got any food on their costume or the couch — praise be to the Halloween gods! As the gaggle of nearly a half dozen two year-olds walked from door to door, they giggled and screeched. They took turns knocking on doors, and even said, “trick-or-treat,” and “thank you!” at most houses.
When we arrived home, before bedtime even, my daughter chose one small lollipop to eat, and didn’t ask for more. She was thrilled out of her mind to have the one — she’s still talking about it a week later. She hugged her friends goodbye, and thought for a minute about sleeping in her kitty costume before she agreed to pajamas and a thorough teeth brushing.
We both fell asleep with big kitty grins on our faces. I am taking a moment now to offer up my thanks. I know there may come a time when she won’t wear her costume. I am sure there will be some teenaged Halloween when she forgets to call me. I imagine, at some point, she may even want to stop dressing up — not to mention dressing up with her mother. But right now, I am grateful for my delightfully agreeable and adorable purple kitty. Our Halloween was totally purrrrrfect.
Encouraging pretend play promotes creativity in toddlers. Also, little “cats” don’t ask nearly as many questions as little girls, so more free time for you, too. [Wait! That's not your litter box!] Um, maybe not so much with the increased free time.
If the cat sniffs food that has fallen on the floor, it is still edible. If, however, the cat bats it with her paw, it must be thrown away. Dirty kitty paws!