I was originally going to write about earworms today. You know, those songs you just can’t get out of your head. Because lately, I have been waking up with Alanis Morissette’s “All I Really Want” in my brain. More specifically the lyrics:
Why are you so petrified of silence
Here can you handle this?
Did you think about your bills, your ex, your deadlines
Or when you think you’re gonna die
Or did you long for the next distraction
I love AM. And I can’t wait to hear something new from her. But as often as I wake up lately with that in my head, I have to wonder if it’s my subconscious mind trying to tell me something. (Subconscious? Unconscious? I’ve heard it both ways, but to me these words mean tremendously different things.) (Whatevs.) (You know what I mean.)
Along those lines, is it “preventive” or “preventative”? Yes, I could go look it up, but I’m tired. *snort*
So, the reason that ear-worms aren’t getting a full post is that I was checking out my blog dashboard – for no apparent reason – and it seems there are now ten (10) of you who have subscribed to Mag and Moo’s blog.
Oh. Mah. Gah.
First of all, THANK YOU!
Secondly, WTH is wrong with you people??
Thirdly, WELCOME! *waves*
That distracted me for a while, what with the giggling and all.
I haven’t updated my 2 million steps in a while. Let me go look at my spreadsheet. (You heard me.)
Through week 17, I have walked 471,105 steps. 1,528,895 to go.
It seems that giving up cable is finally starting to take hold. I canceled it in January, and I don’t have local channels. But I have Netflix and Hulu so if there is *really* something I want to watch, I can usually find it. But over the last week and a half – starting with Monday last on my vacation – I think I have seen maybe 2 hours total of anything.
I have become quite fond of the quiet at night. The Wonder Twins are still adjusting but they’ll manage.
That’s what I have for you tonight. There was something else, but I can’t remember what it is. Next time…
Oh, hello! Welcome. Come and have some beef stew.
A big Mag and Moo welcome to Fiona! HI! *waving*
So, last night, I was in that really deep sleep where waking up feels like you are swimming to the surface through melted Nutella. (Just go with it. I’m hungry.) (But… HOW GOOD WOULD THAT BE? Melted Nutella?? I’m going to have to try that now.)
Anyway. You know the kind of sleep I mean. Well, last night, as I swam to the surface, I thought I heard a very angry baby crying. I was thinking, oh, someone is so not happy. They brought the child outside. But something didn’t sound quite right. The baby’s cry didn’t have that sort of inhale pause.
So I realized it was a cat. Normally, the Wonder Twins each take up a post at the foot of my bed, like matching gargoyles. They keep me safe at night. I start to think that it is one of the Wonder Twins. OMG. What if I left the inside door to the garage open and one of them is hurt!?! I felt around with my feet and felt the 2 solid lumps. Whew.
The crying was outside. And it wasn’t just crying. It was real-live horrific screaming and crying. The poor cat had to have been terribly hurt. Just crying and screaming and wailing. So loud. So forlorn. My heart was breaking. I thought I should get up and go see if I could find the poor little nugget. But, really. What would I do then?
The crying stopped. Whew. But no. Whatever had done the damage came back. There was one final loud cry. Then everything was quiet.
I have no idea what became of the little critter. Or what set the whole thing off.
But I do know that hearing that noise that reached into my head and heart is something I hope to never hear again. It was so tragic.
I get that wild things act like wild things and survival of the fittest and all that. But, JMJ. I gave each of the Wonder Twins an extra hard hug and extra smooch before going back to sleep. And then again before I left for work this morning. I know they sit in the window during the day and watch the world go by. And they might even want to go outside. But last night confirmed to me that having them inside, and spoiling them rotten, is the right decision. I can’t imagine one of them getting killed by something bigger and meaner and never really knowing what happened. Or having them come home, all skun up (skun? It’s a word.) (Yeah huh!) from fighting back. It would break my heart every day. I adopted them to love them.
And I hope to keep doing that for a long, long time.
RIP little wild nugget. I’m sorry it was such a painful death. 😦
Oh, hello! Come in and have some yogurt.
I’ve had a couple of days off. I love not working. I would love to get paid for not working.
So, recently, I hired someone to fix my resume. I have known for a long time that my resume sucks. I have never known how to write a good one. There really should be a class in high school or college that teaches people how to write resumes.
Turns out, the man I hired is a “Certified Resume Writer”. I didn’t even know there was such a thing. I’ve had to go back through my past employment and describe in detail where I worked and what I did there. For the past 15 years. OMG. I don’t even remember the names of some of the companies. I did the best I could. I hope he can help. Then I will be able to get a job that will allow me to shine.
I recently decided to get serious about changing my life. I’ve mentioned that before here. In light of that, I have started another blog to document my weight loss. I think that by documenting it, I will be held better accountable. Don’t bother looking for it. I’m not linking to it here, and I’ll never mention it again here.
My nephew is a basketball player. He is a sophomore in HS. And he plays for the varsity team. He is the only one. Well, there is another sophomore on the team, but he doesn’t play. My nephew plays quite a bit. Of course, I am extremely biased, but he is really good. He needs to bulk up a little bit but next year? He’ll be really dominant. He wants to play for Duke. I hope he does.
As much as I love the twins, sometimes they drive me crazy!! I have been trying to write, but they keep walking all over me trying to nap. Most of the time I love it, but sometimes? OY!
Oh, hello! Come on in and have a cup of tea with me.
I was brough up in a Catholic household. Church every weekend, Sunday school, confirmation, the whole works. It was fine then. It was all I knew. I’d look around at all the people and silently make disparaging comments about them in my mind. I didn’t know better.
When I finally started paying attention, I decided that I didn’t really like what they were saying. It wasn’t that they were saying anything different or new, it is just that I started having my own opinions that didn’t necessarily agree with theirs. I don’t think either opinion could be labeled right or wrong – just differing. I was my opinion that going to church was being preached AT, rather than preached TO. There were the commandments – you can’t do this or that. And obviously, murder and adultery are not good things. (Well, adultery might be, depending upon your own moral compass. I’m not judging. But murder? Still bad.)
Like many others, I consider myself to be more spiritual than religious. I still pray. I still believe there is something greater “up there”, or wherever. And it has crossed my mind more and more frequently that I might like to find a new church. Being the card-carrying lazy apathist (yes, I just made that up – you’re welcome) I am, I haven’t made the effort to go visit any churches to see if their philosophies more closely match mine.
To be clear – I am in no way saying that the Catholic belief system is bad or wrong. It just isn’t for me. I think we should all be able to practice any religion that works for us; worship at the altar that works best for you, and let me do the same.
Then, I see this headline in a Tweet from a local news station:
Maine’s Catholic churches plan a second collection weekend to help the referendum campaign to overturn the law recognizing gay marriages.
And that pisses me off to no end. I would have the same reaction regardless of the religion at the center of the story. While I can appreciate that this does not necessarily fall under the separation of church and state, what business is it of any church to get involve in this law?
This whole gay marriage thing and the opposition against it? It’s beyond my scope of comprehension as to WHY THE PHUCK IS IT ANYONE’S BUSINESS IF TWO PEOPLE WHO LOVE EACH OTHER GET MARRIED????????? We should celebrate MORE love in this world, not try to squelch it. If two people get married, it doesn’t affect my life in any way. I don’t care if they are gay or straight. And now for the church to get involved?? WHY? So, your beliefs may not be the same, so you have to make others’ beliefs wrong? How is that showing the love of a higher power?
And don’t even bring in “the Bible says it’s wrong” crap. This is NOT A RELIGIOUS ISSUE. It shouldn’t be a state issue. It shouldn’t be ANY issue. If these couples aren’t hurting you or themselves, leave them alone to be who they are.
Dear Catholic Church,
Stay out of it. Take care of your own house before you start finding fault with anyone else’s house. And that goes for all your brother religions as well. Just because you may not believe something doesn’t make it wrong. Isn’t there a “turn the other cheek” edict somewhere that should be followed?
I’ll get off my soapbox now. I’m a little dizzy from the altitude. I just think, again, that we should encourage love. Regardless of the form it takes.
*Maggie tried to stop me from writing this by walking on the keyboard and planting herself on my lap for a number of hours. She knew this would not sit well with folks. But since it is my blog, and my opinion, I’m okay with it.
Oh, hello. Cocktails this afternoon. Martinis, I think.
Before I start ranting about hair dye, how is it that Maggie’s fur is soooo much softer than Seamus’s? I wonder if she uses a different conditioner. I must research that I think.
Usually, if I need to get my hair done, I head down town to the Salon of Awesomeness. This place is a little oasis of heaven, right in the middle of the city. Everything is shiny and white and smiley and pretty. All the stylists are shiny and smiley and pretty. No one person handles more than one job. (I know!) So I get to see Ashley for my color, and Hannah for my style. There are assistants who bring you wine or coffee or water or snacks. Yes, wine. Even early in the morning! Seriously. Salon of Awesomeness.
However, as of late, my checking account has not been accommodating my need for Salon time. *sob* Finally, I broke down and bought a box of root-touch-up goop. The box said, and I may be paraphrasing here, “Guaranteed to match any color, no matter what brand!” It said it on the box, so it must be true, right? *snort*
I mix up the goop, brush it on to the 1 inch roots/gray, and am supposed to wait 10 minutes. I may or may not have gotten distracted by something shiny, and remembered the goop burning my skull 20 minutes (or so) later. So, yeah, it’s way darker than I anticipated, but the gray is gone. (Most likely due to them being burned from my head) (not really. I’m exaggerating) (sorta).
I used to be really good at self-dying. I would go to the beauty supply store and become my own little chemist. Mix a little of the white stuff with a little of the color stuff, shake, and you’re good to go. Although, there was the one time, years ago, when I dyed my hair 3 times in one weekend. I didn’t like the color it turned out, so I kept doing it over. FYI: so NOT a good idea. I’m sure I have mentioned before that I have very curly hair. After that, um, display of genius, my hair was toast. And straight. For a long time. Until it completely grew out again. So not pretty. *sigh* The things we do in the name of vanity.
I’m hoping that I will be able to visit the Salon of Awesomeness again next month. I miss Ashley and Hannah. I miss the shiny, smiley prettiness. I miss the free HUGE glass of wine.
Oh, hello! Popcorn?
Four years ago today, a poor abandoned cat gave birth to Black and White Kittens #s 1-4. That cat, Maggie (I know, right?!), was lucky enough to reside at the Animal Refuge League in Westbrook. They took very good care of Momma Maggie, while she, in turn, took very good care of Kittens 1-4.
Fast forward to 8 weeks later. I decided to go visit the shelter to see if, by chance, there were any kittens who were ready for their forever home. I knew I wanted 2 – they need to keep each other company. I knew I wanted a boy and a girl. And I knew I was going to name them Seamus and Maggie. (I love the name Seamus. And I had thought that if I ever had a son, I would have wanted to name him Seamus. But I wouldn’t have, because kids are vicious!! And I knew he would be taunted – because it wasn’t a “normal” name. Whatev.) (Also, I love the Irish names, because Mum is from Ireland.)
Anyhoo. I start looking around. There are some BEAUTIFUL older cats who need a forever home. However, I am hesitant because one can never be sure what happened to the pet at the hands of the previous owner or at the hands of other animals. And since I knew that I wanted 2 cats, I also didn’t know how 2 older pets would do with each other.
Then I get to Maggie’s cage. I told Ms. Shelter Lady that I wanted to see 2 of the kittens and that they had to be a boy and a girl. She handed me the gloves to put on, and she put my babies in my hands. I sat there while their little needle clawed destroyedmy favorite sweater. Black and White kitten #2 weighed 1.8 pounds. Black and White kitten #3 weighed 1.6 pounds. (Those were their official shelter names.) They were feisty, and teensy, and soft, and mewling like… well, like baby kittens. *heh*
Ms. Shelter Lady put them in the “holding cell” while I filled out the adoption papers. After about 45 minutes of red tape, Maggie and Seamus were on their way to their forever home. (BTDub, while I was doing the paperwork, someone totally tried to bogart my cats!! Fuckers.) Their food and water were set in place. The litter box was tucked away. The grand-people were called to come meet their new grand-cats.
They have been an endless source of fun, laughter, frustration, love, and joy. I am absolutely thrilled they are in my life. I will love them forever.
Thank you Seamus. Thank you Maggie. I love you both. Thank you for letting me give you a place to live.
Oh, hello! Club soda with pom wonderful? Coming right up!
The twins have a very tough life. Really. It must be exhausting to be them.
Maggie want to go on a trip. But first….
…she wants to get her nails done. Then that is so exhausting…
…she has to curl into a micro-dot for a nap. Not to be outdone…
…Seamus wants to help me with the laundry as a way to make up for…
…needing to sleep off his hangover from the night before.
And of course, this is when they were getting along, napping together, and Mummy wouldn’t stop with the pictures. Maggie finally had to look back and ask me to stop. Seamus is looking very impressed, as well. *snort*
Oh, hello! Sapphire and tonic? With lime, of course.
I’m pretty sure there is no one on earth who hates house work more than I do. Well, except for those people on “Clean House” because that’s just gross. And okay, my neighbor, in the asbestos shingled, field for a lawn, use broken down minivans for storage (because that’s his “business” – selling cr@p at flea markets). And, okay, people who live like Deliverance folks.
Okay, whatever. Don’t get me off track. I get it. There ARE people who hate housework more than I. The point is that I hate it. HATE! I would love to hire someone to do it for me, but my house is so small that even I would feel guilty.
I think my family doesn’t like to come visit for very long because of my housekeeping skills. I mean, I don’t have rats or big giant bugs or anything. I did have ants, but only because I forgot to get the ant killer for the outside – and because the twins like to play in the garage, and I have to leave the door open so they can come in. But, my brother, Herb, even likes to say that I vacuum once a month, whether I need to or not. (So not true, but you get the point.)
Once year, Herb and his ex, Satan, were so sick of my dishes in the sink that they, along with my parents, bought me a dishwasher, and built an island for my kitchen to house said dishwasher and presented it to me for Christmas. (I cried. Don’t judge me.) (Related: I can never move now, because I love the island and the dishwasher, and I don’t want to leave it behind.)
I have gotten better though. I think I have the twins to thank for that too. Them and their black fur and their epic shedding abilities. It really is impressive how much they shed for such little bitty things. Alas, their fur is black (and white) and my carpets are beige, so frequent vacuuming is in order. The kitchen stays mostly clean. I think I have finally reached the responsible adult age that hits most people in their mid-twenties. Maybe I am just developmentally challenged.
OR, I am just lazy. I vote for the latter. I’m not going to win any awards, but I know I also won’t ever make it on to “Clean House”. And I’m more than okay with that.
Oh, hello! I have some lovely Raspberry Sangria Tea. Would you care for a cup?
What I learned on my summer vacation:
1. Seamus and Maggie like to sleep. ALOT!
2. Seamus and Maggie like to sleep ON ME.
3. I rather like the way I write.
4. I judge people too harshly at times.
5. Given the need, I can pull together a pretty good meal.
6. I really am one of the laziest people on the planet.
7. It’s time to take some bricks down from this wall I live behind.
8. I can live without coffee.
9. I wasn’t dreading the first day back at work as much as I thought I would.
10. Any day not at work is a good day.
Bring on my next vacation!! 5 weeks from now….
Oh, hello! May I offer you a Lorna Doone and tea?
I’m on vacation from the Gas ‘n Sip this week. Actually, it sort of started last Friday. As much as the Leg Jiggler bugs the snot out of me, he can sometimes do something very nice – like let me “work from home” the Friday before my vacation. We all know that “working from home” means sleeping late, doing laundry, mowing the lawn, checking in via email occasionally just to indicate that you are, in fact, putting in a slight effort.
The first question most people ask when they find out you are going on vacation is “where are you going?” Why do people always have to go somewhere? More importantly is, if I am going somewhere, why would I tell you? MYOB, honestly.
I have been fortunate enough to go away on some wonderful vacations. Paris was, by far, my favorite place. Of course, Ireland holds a special place in my heart, thanks to Mum. London was not my favorite, but due to the company I travelled with, more than the location. Given another opportunity to visit, I would very likely have a wonderful time.
The only problem I have with “going away” is that it’s exhausting! The planning, the travel, the desire to see everything, the jet lag, the unpacking, telling everyone about it, blah blah blah. My favorite vacation locally was in Vermont. My friend, Meffa, has a condo up there, and visiting there is like going off planet. She doesn’t have cable up there, nor an Internet connection, nor the ability to make long distance calls without a credit card. Right after she bought the place, I took her dog and her keys and went up there for a full week. By the time she got there the second weekend, I was completely relaxed and totally news deprived. I had no idea what was going on in the world, hadn’t watched TV, had read 10 books, eaten locally grown food and felt wonderful. Vermont had completely de-bitched.
My only goal for this week off is to relax, read, and to get my ruffled feathers smoothed again. I have been feeling out of sorts lately, as has been made ridiculously clear in my recent posts. I hope to gather myself back together and feel like I have some sort of control in my life – BUAHAHAAHAHAHAHA! The only one whole has control of my life is the goat himself. But I still want to give it a go. A girl can dream, right?
I know the twins will be delighted to have me here. Their own personal servant. Taking pictures of them. Watching them sleep. They certainly have the right idea. Sleep when you need to, eat when you are hungry, forget the bad things right away. I think I will live like a cat this week. However, I am going to draw the line at licking myself clean. *shudder*