Deuces

This is the project I have been thinking about since you were born, Sayler.  So if you are old enough to read this blog and I have not yet completed said project please feel free to call me out on my lethargy, forgetfulness and overall inability to complete a project within 3 years (or more)...   I have scoured Craigslist for one of these (that I hope is still available when I call tomorrow...)     It's an old-school, tin-like mailbox we all had stateside as kids (until my dad built a replica of our 1202 house out of wood and replaced the tin mailbox with his custom version).   The project is to acquire one of these mailboxes and paint it in all the colors that remind me of you, Sayler, like lime green and lavender, to hang on a wall in your bedroom.   They are the colors that remind me of only you, because Lord knows I have never been a lime green kind of girl.  But shortly after you were born it was in lime green ...

I AM , a photo by cambrialana on Flickr. I AM a mother I AM a daughter I AM a friend I AM a neighbor, I AM a baby-food baker, and breast-milk maker. I AM a cousin, and an aunt, a niece, a sister and a wife. I AM a rescuer I AM a cleaner, I AM a microwaver and a dreamer. I AM a colleague, I AM a dieter, I AM a chocolate-lover and a writer. I AM a reader I AM a cryer, I AM the designated driver. I AM forgetful I AM forgetful Did I already mention... I AM forgetful? I AM sleepy, I AM working, I AM thinking, I AM scheming, I AM trying to be better at everything, but sometimes find I AM failing. I AM working on it, I promise. Sent From Blackberry Wireless

... And the tears fall.... Here we go.... 5 minutes ago I was jamming to some Natasha Bedingfield and thoroughly enjoying my first post- Mother's Day celebration, trying to shake the sense of loss we faced this weekend... and then I suddenly felt the overwhelming sense of pain of missing sweet Lando... my eyes filled up and I couldn't keep from crying uncontrollably. On Saturday Lando left this world and is off chasing mice in Heaven. Last week our sweet Lando had quickly developed kidney and liver failure and was suffering.  It was the most heart-breaking thing to witness as our gentle giant lost all will to move, to eat, to drink or be pet... You're not supposed to have a favorite cat, but sweet Lando was Lloyd's favorite.  It was Lloyd that sat with me as we received our cat's prognosis from the Dr.   Lloyd watched as I cried and sat petting Lando for the last time, trying to comfort him in the moments before the vet-tech came in to ease h...

"Your breath smells," she said, while quickly looking away in disgust.  Despite turning her head in the other direction, she could still feel the hot, heavy air hitting her cheeks.  She stretched farther away, feeling the tendons pull tightly in her neck- and yet it still lingered heavy in the air like a post-nuclear attack- She could not escape it. And in that moment, as she grimaced through the pain of the horrible smell that poured over her, she looked back at the panting dog and saw two eyes that were saying, "I Love You."  I missed you this weekend, sweet Penny. Has it already been a year since we met on that darkly lit road? It has. In that year I have come to love you, to laugh at you, to scowl under my breath at you. You are our dog, aren't you? Or perhaps we are yours.  It would certainly seem so, anyway. You are an old girl- about 11 Dr. Park says.  You are almost blind these days, old girl, and sometimes as you race for...

We're half-only folks. I steal half my husband's wardrobe because it's just like, so comfy... even though his long socks drape over my feet with all their extra inches and his sweatshirts will sometimes drown me. I steal half his food, even when I have already told him that "I'm not that hungry" and changed my mind. And on half the bed we sleep. I remember when we got our Cal-King. We had upgraded from a Full, which meant we would have lots of room to roam on the new mattress. I could sleep like a starfish every night, and Lloyd's long feet would fit on the bed for the first time ever. But my starfish-lying dreams were soon out the window. Because our pets quickly realized that the Cal-king is soooooooo soft and cushy. I always end up in bed first with Penny at my feet.  And as Lloyd walks around to turn off all the lights, turn on the alarm, and get ready to join me, the cats beat him to the bed and lie in his spot. "I have to be ...

Just before our European Christmas vacation I took 2 of the kids to the vet for some routine maintenance.  Penny needed immunizations, and Trouble, my very troublesome cat, needed his asthma medication. I have been to Dr. Park's office so many times for such needs and I always dread the wait.  The office is small, old and smells of some form of alcohol used to disguise the number of animals that urinate on the floor somewhere. It might sound like Hell to you, but despite it not being the most attractive place, it is affordable and my animals ALWAYS leave in better condition than in which they came.  I've said it before and I'll say it again that Dr. P. doesn't say too much.  His broken Korean-English always leaves me trying to figure out what he said, but his kind eyes tell me that he really cares about my kids. But Dr. P said something the other day that was completely dishonest. He said "what a beautiful cat". He was speaking about my boy Trouble...

There's a can in my van. It's turkey and giblets. It's wet cat food, but not for my cat. It's not for me, either. It's for the stray cat or dog that crosses my path on any given day. The animal that is lost, sick, homeless and sad. I can't catch the strays- it's pretty hard.  They are slippery little suckers. But if I see an animal wandering the streets with heavy eyes, I will crack the can open and leave it on the pavement. .49 cents, on sale. Not a bad price to give an animal a meal to tide it over while it looks for its way back home, or way into any home.

I take Penny and Obi for a walk every day. Okay, I take Penny... I don't get a choice with Obi. As I put the leash on the dog, the cat comes sprinting from the tundra (grass) and eagerly joins in. Obi has enjoyed these walks for the past few years.  We sometimes try to sneak out of the house, for worry he will get himself into mischief or a rogue dog will come chasing him, but all of our efforts are fruitless... He loves our walks. He trots behind us or sprints ahead and lies in wait for us to catch up.  Literally, he lies there. He might rub his back against the concrete, polish his paws, or enjoy the cool grasses of an unwitting neighbor's lawn.  If that neighbor has a dog, he will run up to the fence and encourage the little rascal to stick it's nose out from under so he can SWAT! it accordingly, in one fell swoop. I'm not sure why our next door neighbor's yorkie hasn't caught on.  Poor little Obama gets his wet nose swatted more times than Lind...

Some people don't have pets and I can totally see why. They require a lot of love, attention, time and money. But you know what my favorite thing about my pets is? I am never alone. Even when the house goes quiet and all I can hear is the tapping of my keys on the keyboard, I know they are close. And when I head into the kitchen for a bevvie, a snack, or to tidy up, they suddenly appear from whence they were hiding. Sometimes it is just one or two.  But they look up at me and beg for me to drop a crumb.  Today Penny, Trouble and I shared a grilled cheese sandwich. They weren't yelling at me or judging me or asking me for books and recommendations on curriculum like my customers sometimes do. They just sat there, with me, helping me eat my grilled cheese sandwich, reminding me I am never alone.  I'd love to say their love is unconditional, but the grilled cheese sure helps.

Dear Penny, Your farts stink. Seriously, seriously stink. Even more stinky than airplane farts. You haven't ever been on a plane, my little Penny Kravitz, but let me tell you something about airplane farts. Airplane farts usually occur at high altitudes and when the plane is at full capacity.  No one knows from whence the fart came, and most people won't acknowledge it for fear others will see them squirm and assume it was they who dealt it.  I am most certainly not speaking of myself, thankyouverymuch, I'm just trying to make a point. Airplane farts lie still in the air.  The lack of circulation in the cabin gives them the most rancid and putrid smell that, until tonight, I thought could only occur on a 747. You, my Pensacola, hath proved that theory wrong.  You fart when you sleep.  You fart when you cough.  You fart when you are excited.  You fart when you are hungry, and you most certainly fart when you are full. How doe...

And in an email from another cousin: When I was young, I am 53 by the way, I remember going to your Grandparent's house, I was really scared of your Grandfather's dogs. My dad and Uncle George (I know some of my cousins called him Uncle "G" but he was always Uncle George to us) would go in the yard so he could show my dad the latest thing he was tinkering on. My mom, my sisters and I would sit and listen to your Grandma tell stories about her everyday life. She was so funny she made us all laugh so much.... When my cousin emailed me this I beamed because, sweet friends, I too love to tell stories about my everyday life.  Generally I find my stories mundane and hope there might be some trinkets of humor interwoven here and there, but to know that my grandmother and I share in that is lovely. And I, like my dad and like his father before him, also love dogs.  I don't ever remember not having a dog growing up.  They were always huge and ominous looking dogs ...

Cat Hair, CAT HAIR!! it's EV-ER-Y-WHERE! Cat Hair on my clothing, and cat hair in MY hair! Cat hair on my nose! Cat hair on my toes! Cat Hair, CAT HAIR Didn't I just dispose... of your cat hair, CAT HAIR, that's EV-ER-Y-WHERE!? The tufts of fur on my walls, and the bits strewn on my stairs, cat hair, CAT HAIR, IT'S EV-ER-Y-WHERE!! (No. Seriously.)

Last night we locked the kids inside. 4 cats with no access to their kitty flap as the 4th of July holiday didn't seem like a good night to let them wander in the yards on Blackberry Drive. I woke up regretting that decision just a little. I also regretted the decision to bring Penny pooch to bed with us. 5 animals in the bedroom turned into quite a sleepless evening for the man and myself. All night I heard hisses from cats playing too rough.  Thumps and thuds from cats chasing one another up and down the stairs.... and down and up.... and up... and down... And then somewhere between 3 a.m. and 4 o'nnoyed I heard Penny whimpering. This pooch has quite the tolerance for pain (lest I need to remind you we found her half dead on a busy road...).  So her whimpering warranted attention. And in that dark fuzzy night I saw her limp toward me from the foot of the bed.  She cried along the way. I silently scolded my cats, certain they had gone all Karate Ki...

In the morning when I wake, I go quiet.  No stretch. And if I remind myself, I don't yawn loudly or do that weird grunt thing I do when I want to refuse the daylight and curl back under the blankets. Because if I move, if I stretch, if I grunt, I welcome them: The cats, and one waggy-tailed dog. Because generally they have enough strange respect to let me sleep while I am legitimately sleeping. But when they sense I am awake they crawl up to my face. Yes, the face.  Trouble digs his head into the palm of my hand that rests under my head forcing a petting that I am passively giving.  Penny jumps atop my cheek, breathing heavy, hot, bad doggy breath into my nostrils. The others might meow or bite my toes. They are saying "WE SAW YOU, WE SAW YOU!!  NO NEED TO PRETEND!!  WE SAW YOU, I'MA TELL THE OTHERS!!" And if I am really grumpy, I will literally pull the covers back over my head, curl my toes in, and ignore them until their pouncing and h...

TapTapTapTap TapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTap TapTapTapTapTapTapTapTap TapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTap TapTapTapTapTapTapTapTap The noise Penny's tail makes when she wags it against the couch as she pretends to slumber.  And of course I know she is faking it because the tail is tapping.  And the TapTapTapTapTapTapTapTap noise means she is happy. Eyes closed but I can hear TapTapTapTap and she might open an eye just enough to make sure I don't slip away and leave her.  When I walk through the door, she wags.  When I grab her leash, she wags.  When I say "Hello, my little copper Penny..." she wags. But my favorite wag is the wag when her tail hits the couch and I can hear TapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTapTap TapTapTapTapTapTapTapTap TapTapTapTap.

Dear Lord, Thank you for giving me the good sense of being an animal lover, a caretaker of all things adorable and fuzzy.  Thank you for giving me a husband who is the same. Dear Lord,  however, and I stress this gently, (an oxymoron, I know...) I think I have exceeded maximum capacity: physically, financially,socially of caring for animals for the time being... What I am saying, oh Dear Lord who is great,  is that, Please stop sending the neighborhood animals to my doorstep.  Please stop giving them the ability to figure out how to use the cat door that we have so cleverly installed.   Please keep the latest large, fuzzy, grey-haired strange cat out of my cats' lunch bowls and watering holes. Dear Lord,  I know I am pretty friggin' awesome, but, um, I think the neighbors will quickly become annoyed at me taking in so many animals.  I think my vet will start to wonder if I am stealing animals for my own sick rituals or somethin...

My dad cooked everyday. And when he wasn't cooking for his heathen children, he was cooking for his other beastly creatures: the dogs. Who cooks for their dogs?  Not as uncommon as you'd think, but Lord have mercy on me if I ever thought about cooking for my cats. Spoiled enough, indeed.  The cats eat as often as Hobbits and have bellies and shiny coats to prove it.  They laze around like they live at the Chateau Marmont and yet they still have the audacity to ignore me when I could use a good cat-hug.  And here I am now, drenched in the stench of a home-cooked meal.... for my dog. Oy yes.  I need to back-track.... We kept the dog. You knew we would, didn't you?  Go on, say it.  "I told you so..." Well what no one told me was that I would no longer enjoy sleeping in quite as late as I'd like.  Penny Gwen, our poochy pooch, who sleeps beside us, is sure to paw at my face and dig her wet nose into my dry face as a way of saying "woma...

The day after we brought the tan puppy home we discovered 3 things. 1.  She is not tan.  She is a beautiful reddish, coppery color. 2.  She is not a puppy, but around 5 years old. 3.  She will not be ours forever. The first 2 discoveries were "Oh, really?" moments.  The third discovery made me take a deep breath, and then I smiled warmly. The pup is a lover, not a fighter.  She stares at you with the deepest look of love and when you put her in a warm soapy tub her eyes close just a little and you feel like her personal masseuse.  If only I can get my cats to behave so beautifully.  And at 10.8 pounds she is smaller than even my smallest cat, and you best believe those cats make sure she knows it. When they come near her she crouches low and she is submissive.  And she is at her happiest when she hears the neighbors' dogs barking, yapping and rolling around in the homes and yards that neighbor ours. In the...

If I hadn't been sick this morning, my day would have gone much differently.   If I hadn't awoken with the intense abdominal pain that left me in the fetal position for the better half of the morning my husband would have went about his morning and gone to the gym. But he didn't. If I hadn't been so sick I wouldn't have been in bed all day. And if I hadn't been in bed all day I wouldn't have decided to stay local instead of going to my mom's house for an Easter dinner. If I hadn't been so "over" being sick, I wouldn't have asked my husband to take me on a date to the movies. And if I hadn't convinced my dear, sweet man to take me to see the latest Jennifer Aniston film, we wouldn't have gotten into our truck. If we hadn't gotten into our truck and stopped off to pick up coffee and a treat, our night would have gone much differently. If only.... If we hadn't taken Iris to Perris Blvd. enroute to said film that was...

Phone rings moments ago.  The ringtone is my husbands.  I answer cautiously "Hello?" as I am somewhat perplexed by his early a.m. call.  Lloyd: "Are you going to blog anytime this month?" OkOkOk.  I've gotten away from my "daily" blogs which have turned into "semi-bi-weeklys".  What can I say, the world seems to be on Christmas vacation, Hannukah relaxation, or some variation of religious lounging.  I almost forget each day, too, that I am not technically on vacation.  While work has gone slow with the schools off, I still have stuff ta'do in preparation for busy spring semesters.  And I have this here trusty blog to do.  Not that I hafta, but it makes my day bright.  And plus I need somewhere to use my lingo like "hafta" But oh well.  I'm doing it from my jim-jams.  I have been enjoying this season.  I am enjoying the heater that is blowing its warm air on me right at this moment.  In a few hours, I might gr...