I'm Stranded!

A quick note to say California and maybe some other areas are being tromped by our internet server, Comcast. I'm on a borrowed computer and service is hit and miss. Apparently Microsoft updated something yesterday and it has caused wide spread problems. The national news reports that all of Sweden lost internet connection today. So far, so good, Microsoft! And we thought Vista had problems. I don't know when I'll be back on but surely soon. Until then, maybe I'll get laundry done! I feel like I'm back in the dark ages. Maybe I'll light a candle and start chiseling out my next post.

How will I live without you?!

Goodbye! Hopefully not forever!

For You, Janine

Well, we all had a grand time at the party and I thank you for stopping by. We ended up having a great let-your-hair down time at the end and, really, that’s who I am so it couldn’t have been more perfect.

Today, however, I am thinking of a blogging friend who has also become a real-life friend: Janine, at Sniffles And Smiles. If you haven’t been to her blog, I encourage you to go and be blessed and maybe drop her a word of encouragement. She is a professional journalist and teacher who writes from a the perspective of a woman, a mother and wife, and a Christian. Her writing is polished and inspiring. Janine is having surgery today to see if a spot on her rib could be a reoccurrence of the cancer she has so bravely battled. Some of you may know she has fought breast cancer in a bitter battle and yet maintains her wit, charm, and beauty. She graces us with her words in her regular Saturday post and amazes us with her paintings as well. (Some of her work appears on her blog.) Homeschooling her teenage son has remained a number one priority in spite of all these challenges.

Would you lift up a prayer today on her behalf and that of her family?

Nancy, at Life In The Second Half shared this picture of hope and it was started by others who love Janine. Thank you, Nancy, and my thanks to your sweet, caring friends.

Copyright 2009

Welcome to The Ball!

We have been invited to the GRAND ball at Willow Manor. Willow is throwing quite the fete and has encouraged her readers to do the same. I could never entertain with her panache what with wild cats sticking to the top of my head and rabies shots and crazy happenings. Perhaps I’m better suited to a hoedown. And frankly, I think that’s how the evening will end up. But here I stand chatting! Come in! Come in! You will be guided to your overnight accommodations and, once refreshed and dressed, do have a lovely glass of wine, and mix and mingle. I was so pleased to have the Nat King Cole Trio providing a sultry backdrop to our festivities. Here they are now with their rendition of “Moonlight in Vermont.” Don’t be intimidated by all the glitz and glamour. This is MY place. You know we’ll have our shoes off and be singing along before the evening’s done. Off you go. I’ll be along shortly.

I had no idea what to wear. I did manage to lose several thousand pounds in preparation since Willow announced this last week. And my gown with the ermine collar seemed to work so well I dared to trail it out again. I hope no one recognizes it but, at great risk to my reputation, here I am in it having only just made my appearance. (Do you think the crown is too much?) You’ll notice me dancing with Grizzly, my prince charming. I refer to him as “Your Highness.” It elevates him so. Besides, what a little thing it is and I condescend to amuse him along with pretending we've never met. I'm thrilled he finds me continually new and surprising.

You all look so perplexed there in the dining hall and I have no idea why my wine stewardess finds it necessary to adjust her pants in such an unseemly fashion. My sincere apologies that things don’t seem entirely prepared yet, but do hurry along to your rooms and change out of your traveling clothes. You’ll find everything laid out for you with evening clothes to accentuate only your very best attributes. We’ve been expecting you….for years. Just like at the Overlook Hotel in The Shining.

I hope you won’t be detained too long. There is a delightful performance scheduled in just a moment. Oh! Here come the first of you to arrive and aren’t you enchanting?! Camilla! Really, had I known you were wearing that I would never have worried over MY gown. No, TRULY darling, it’s simply flowing isn’t it? Panty lines? What panty lines?

Oh, I hope you’ll all love this next presentation as much as I did. I had SO hoped k d lang, Tony Bennett, and Chris Bodie could have been here but alas, they had prior engagements. However, they sent over this special song recorded just for us. I will beg your pardon while I am swept away for a moment and daintily dab at my tears whilst swooning. We have catchers nearby for all the ladies if you care to join me.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I really don’t know what to say after that except….this should be followed by the finest wine. May I pour? I have absolutely no faith in the stewards anymore.

And now to dine! It would seem the tables are prepared and await only you.

For your dining pleasure we will be serving Boeuf Bourguignon so recently popularized in the movie Julie & Julia. I have even written the name into the gravy. If you find yourself suddenly stricken with a senior moment and cannot recall what you are eating or why, it is there to gently and subtly remind you.

And of course, only a gold-plated sundae could round out our evening, and our evening wear.

I’ve saved one of my very favorite guests for last. She wants to sing for you the theme song to my blog. She worked this up especially for me and it is my love song to all of you. It explains why I’m so attached to you and why we simply must stick together even when you find yourself wanting to run away screaming. Allison, this was so dear of you. I can’t thank you enough. You sing from my heart.

I’m sure Allison would join us if we wanted to kick off our shoes, grab the nearest musical instrument, and join her for a little jam session. I know my evening won’t be complete without it. And while we play and sing, let’s dip our toes into my modest pool.

I thank you all for coming. None of this would have been possible without you. I trust you’ll enjoy the rest of your stay and I will do my level best to continue to accommodate you. If you are still in the mood for a party, I encourage you to join the party circuit in full swing at Willow Manor with her Enchanted Evening. Willow will be happy to facilitate your continued merry-making by teleporting you to any of the other parties. Just click Here.

Ahhhhhh. It feels SO good to get out of those Spanx. Oh! Did I say that out loud?

Copyright 2009

The Cat And I – Part II

Yes, I made kitty scared. It didn’t do me any favors, either. When it got to the top of my head, it grabbed on and did the dog-shaking-a-dead-rodent routine. It wanted to be SURE I knew it was serious. I knew. Hence, the screaming.

Head wounds bleed - a lot. And bleeding from an attack causes strange utterances that bring children flying. Bo and The Wild Man stood at the top of the stairs crying. I hollered at them to stay put as I considered my options in two seconds flat. The cat had made for the front door – which was now closed – but it seemed not to recognize that fact. I was right behind it to try and catch Grizzly before he drove away and there it was, spread eagle and plastered like something right out of a Tom & Jerry cartoon. All I could think of was to get that cat OUT of my house. It felt the same way. I grabbed the door and, just before we parted company forever, I looked into those eyes and realized they were yellow, not green, like Bess’s. Wishful thinking makes you slow on the uptake apparently.

Grizzly was pulling away from the curb when a crazy woman with streaming blood started yelling for him to stop. He pulled his truck over and came flying out.

“Oh my LORD, Robynn, what HAPPENED?!”

“The cat wasn’t Bess!” I managed to offer from somewhere behind my veil of gore. Grizzly said later he was afraid to look because he thought my eye had been ripped out. Why it wasn’t was absolutely Providential. I had a puncture below my eye and above it.

“Get to the kitchen sink!” he roared while bellowing at the kids that mommy was gonna be okay. They were unconvinced and howled pitifully. I grabbed a dish towel and shoved it onto the top of my head trying to staunch the flow. It worked. When we thought it was safe we took it off to try and clean things up and survey the damage. It was obvious a needle and thread were in order.

Now, if you ever have an emergency, DON’T call my mother. She cannot leave the house without an appropriate pantsuit and makeup on. I forgot this small detail when I grabbed the phone, towel pressed to my head.

“Uh, mom? I need you to come over right away. A stray cat attacked me, I’m bleeding and need some stitches, and I need you to stay with the kids.” Seemed straight forward.

“What happened?” she responded and I repeated myself. “Mom, I need to go to the emergency room so come right away.” It was 6:45 in the morning. My mother lives four miles away. By 7:30 she still hadn’t come and we decided we could just wait until the doctor’s office opened at 8:00. I hadn’t bled to death yet so that seemed promising.

She pulled up at 7:45. Had to feed the dog, too, she explained.

While we waited we took advantage of the time to comfort the kids, calm them down, and explain that their grandmother was insane. It had to come out sooner or later.

When we arrived at the doctor’s office he pooh-poohed the whole thing and said I probably just needed a band-aid. Then he pulled the towel off and suddenly changed his mind. And he stitched my scalp back together. Then I contemplated sewing his cheeks together, and I’m not talking about the ones that framed his unsympathetic mouth. Hubris in physicians definitely highlights my sweet Christian nature.

“Where’s the cat?’ he asked as we wrapped up.

“I have no idea,” I replied.

“Do you think you can catch it?” he astutely inquired.

“I’m thinking NOT since I have no idea, uh, WHERE IT IS, and I’ve never seen it before today.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate. Because we can’t observe it to see whether it’s sick or not. It’s probably fine but you may need to think about rabies shots. You better call the Health Department. They administer rabies shots in people.”

So I called.

They informed me our area had an unusually high rate of rabies in skunks. Nothing reported in cats but they couldn’t be sure. And since the cat couldn’t be located – and we tried – it seemed best to proceed.

All I could think of was the old horror stories about shots in the abdomen. It wasn’t nearly that bad. These days, all they have to do is give you a series of shots, on three or four different occasions, RIGHT in the wounds, wherever the animal bit you - three on my face and one on my head. But the doctor was really nice so nothing happened to his posterior.

However, the pain during healing was phenomenal. I know because every time Grizzly passed by me he scratched the top of my head with his fingers in that loving way parents do with children. The first time he did it I cried for ten minutes. He felt terrible and was beside himself. He had done this to me for years and just reached out from habit. I recovered and forgave him.

And then he did it again the next day.

I decided to lay on the couch with a shotgun across my chest.

The good news is, I won’t get rabies. I’m probably due for a booster, though. And tags. And a license. And I like to think I modeled bad behavior for my children so they could see that it’s not always wise to grab stray animals.

Like my refrigerator magnet says, “If you can’t be a good example, be a terrible warning.” After all, what are mothers for?

If you’re not sure, just ask mine. But not right now. She’s looking for her makeup.

Copyright 2009

Please drop in to my other blog 30 Day Throw Down for the latest on our efforts to exercise so we can speed away from marauding stray cats.

And THEN It Ripped My Head Off...

To celebrate my 200th post. I think I deserve cake. :)

___________________________________________________

Last winter, when I wrote about Punxsutawney Phil and Gopher Guts, I said I’d save the cat story for a more appropriate time, like Halloween. Maybe you didn’t believe me. Maybe you were lucky enough to have never heard of me last winter. Those halcyon days are over and October is now here. And I feel obliged to purge myself of another animal story.

I have to start by telling you that absolutely nothing good happens when people approach my side of the bed and wake me up.

We’ve all had the middle of the night declarations from our precious bundles that go something along the lines of:

“I have to frow up.”

“My froat hurts.”

“The cat frew up.”

“The dog halves diareeeeeuh.”

(My children just stopped talking like this last week. I still do.)

But declarations from my husband, Grizzly, have been FAR worse.

We have a morning routine that rarely changes. It varies between excessive snooze alarms (him), and pillows on the head (me). I go to bed much later than he does so I ATTEMPT to get up after him which works a couple of times a week. If I am successful and sleep through the fire station alarm clock, I wake up shortly after he leaves. However, the handful of times he has appeared at my bedside to purposely wake me, it’s never been to tell me how fetching I look in the morning or to declare his undying love. I feel it should be accompanied by nitroglycerin pills to get my heart started again.

“Someone bashed out your car windows.” (Two of them. On my birthday.)

“Something’s stuck in JoJo’s stomach and she’s trying to eat the carpet. I’ve gotta go but you better do something.” (A rawhide bone and she ate three square feet of an area rug trying to shove it on through.)

“The cat got a bird and there are feathers and blood all over the living room.” (Which time?)

“All the animals are standing around the couch staring at the floor. I think there’s something alive under there. Gotta go.” (There was, but that’s another story.)

But once, ONE time, there were sweet words. Longed for words:

“Robynn, I think Bess is home.”

Bess? Our treasured and much mourned cat?!

The very words had me on my feet and flying down the stairs, with random clothes being thrown on backwards. Grizzly said he had been leaving for work when he suddenly spotted her sitting in the yard. Our dear, beloved cat. The five-year-old Wild Man’s dear, beloved cat. She had vanished into thin air three months earlier. He cried for a week. We had walked miles and posted countless fliers with her photo front and center.

Bess loved the Wild Man passionately and she considered me a close second. When we slept she would go from bed to bed, curling up next to our faces and falling asleep with an outstretched paw touching our cheeks. And now his cheek and his bed were desperately lonely and he could barely talk about her.

But here was Grizzly telling me she was back. I was thrilled. I couldn’t wait to lay my hands on her as I carefully crept out the front door, trying not to alarm her. Grizzly had warned me that she looked a little spooked and disoriented.

“Go easy,” he advised. “She seems a little out of it. It is her, isn’t it?”

“YES, it’s her!” I answered. “And of course she seems out of it. She’s been gone all this time.”

“Well, be careful. She might freak out or something and I’ve gotta go to work. Let me know.”

I approached slowly and bent down to collect her in my arms. She’d always been a gorgeous cat with luxurious snow-white fur. Now she looked a little worse for the wear and I wondered where she’d been. She was definitely wild-eyed but let me hold her to my chest while I made my way back into the house.

“Robynn, be careful!” Grizzly warned again.

“She’s fine!” I assured him. “Just a little shaken up,” and with that I said good-bye and shut the door.

Bess was home.

If I was smart I would just write “The End” right here.

The problem is, I’ve never really struggled that much with smart, which became painfully evident. I was an old-time cat wrangler. I had never met a cat I didn’t want to keep, hold, rescue, or spend a small fortune on. I thought loving every cat in the world would make every cat love me. I was fearless. Besides, why would I be afraid of my own cat?

I sat down on the couch and cradled her in my arms. I talked baby talk to her. (Doesn’t everyone talk to animals in baby talk?) Her body remained clenched. I gently scratched the sides of her face.

Bess had been one of four kittens Grizzly had rescued from a drainage pipe one day, while he was working. Heavy equipment roaring past guaranteed their demise as they wobbled out on shaky legs. Mama cat had been frightened off so what could he do but bring them home? Two white females and two gray tabby males. He said we’d raise them through kittenhood and then find homes. Oh. Okay. Our two cat household became six.

Three years later, I sat on the couch trying to reassure a terrified Bess. Her litter mates made their way into the living room. Lifted noses sniffed the air and stopped dead in their tracks. They absolutely didn’t know her. She suddenly realized they were there. And just as suddenly, she realized she absolutely didn’t know them, either. Apparently, I was the only one present who didn’t know the cat I held was NOT Bess. What happened next is hard to explain unless you’ve ever been attacked by a mountain lion.

I felt her lurch and I tried to hang on. That was a mistake I figured out later - during recovery. She attached herself to my face. I tried to peel her off which she apparently interpreted as my attempt to throw her into a volcano filled with wolves. She chomped my cheek, climbed by nose, dived between my eyes, and landed on top of my head. In a frenzy, I still grabbed at her, trying to stop the attack. She figured I was now trying to personally consume her so she sank her fangs into my skull and ripped. She won. I let go. And I screamed. Not on purpose. It was just sort of natural and organic, you might say, under the circumstances. The circumstances included child-birth-like pain, the sound of tooth on cranium (think T-Rex eats lawyer in Jurassic Park), gushing blood, and a cat recently launched off my head.

…….To Be Continued

Copyright 2009

I Want To Ugg You

Free Ugg Boots From Whooga Boots!

When you bend over and look at the feet you have down under you, wouldn't you like to see a new pair of Uggs, sent to you free from the land down under?

I got an opportunity to offer my dear readers a chance to win free, warm Ugg boots to get ready for the cold and chilly days ahead here in the Northern Hemisphere. I couldn't pass it up. The only catch is you have to link through my blog and add the button to your blog - then you're entered. If you click on the link above you'll enter through Whooga, the sponsor of this contest. I hope you win! Click away!

Copyright 2009

Say It Ain't SO!

I'm posting this while still roaring with laughter. I can barely type. This 30 seconds will have me bustin' a seam throughout the day. The big question is: are we women born this way? I'll let you decide but please swallow your food and put down all beverages. Hahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahaha!!!

P.S. This'll be the only time in her life she will be able to talk THIS much and have a man enjoy it! Live it UP, darlin'!

Thank you for the link, my dear Sass!! Helen sent this to me. :)