2007: The Year of The Cat

I have long been a cat lover. I have also suffered the stigma of living alone with a cat. My friends teasingly have called me "The Crazy Cat Lady" for a long time. I always thought that was an unfair stigma. If I had a dog, no one would comment. I also only had ONE cat, hardly warranting a label of "crazy." During the summer of 2007, I decided to take on that name with pride, if only temporarily. 2007 will forever be known as THE YEAR OF THE CAT. Here is my story.

One lovely afternoon in May my dear mother called me. "Oh, Bets. There is this wonderful kitty who is homeless that is hanging around the house. She is orange and white and has long fluffy hair. She's tiny and sweet as pie. You should totally take her." At this point in the conversation, I was pondering both how Kashmir would react, and also how my friends would react. Could I handle two cats in 1187 square feet of living space? I would have to meet the kitty cat to decide. I headed home that weekend. So despite years of personal development, I have still turned into my mother (this is on a magnet on my fridge). Jane was right. The cat was stinkin' precious. She was lovey dovey, a purrer, and loved to be held. She was the antithesis of aloof puss Kashmir. "This cat must be mine, " I proclaimed. I stuffed that kitty cat right into a pet taxi, and we headed home.

Now I wish I could say Kashmir welcomed her with open paws. Such was not the case. There was hissing, there was swatting and there was some serious catterwalling. Kashmir was pissed. Tufts of feline fur rolled like tumbleweeds along my hardwood floors as they romped and rolled through the house. At 3 a.m. Things were not fun. However, I was determined to keep Mimosa, as she had been named. They would be friends, dammit. I was certain of it. Weeks went by, and the brawls continued, interspersed with bouts of silence and stand offs. I kept thinking I had to get that cat to the vet, but it was summer and I had a lot going on, what with not working and having standing pilates appointments and dates with InStyle magazines. Let's just say I was busy.

Fast forward a few more weeks. Was Mimosa getting fat? Her hips look wider, I thought. She's like twice the size that she was when I brought her home. I see her up at night, eating things like pickles and ice cream, and damn, she seems a bit irritable. WHAT??????? Oh, dear lord, my cat is knocked up! The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. CRAP! I thought of "taking care of the problem." Perhaps Johnny knows a doctor who will be in town for just a few days, and he has a folding table and a dirty knife. NO, NO, NO. This wasn't Dirty Dancing, and being Catholic and all, kitten disposal was not really an option. No, we were going to have these kittens. Mimosa may be unemployed and unwed, but she does have the support of her mother (me). We can do this, we don't need no stinkin' men. That's what I told her, even though I was crying inside. I had to be strong for my cat, you see.

Mim's next few weeks were cake. Once I knew she was preggers, and I called her a loose skank a few times, proclaiming my disappointment in her lack of self-control, I started treating her like a queen. She got lots of meow treats and didn't have to do any heavy lifting. She slept about 23 hours a day, up from her usual 22. I looked up information via the interweb, and prepared a whelping box, for birthing. I had no idea how far along she was, so I just watched her each day, and waited. As I waited, my fears grew and grew. What if Mim is not having kittens? What if she was victimized by a band of mad raccoons? My fears became irrational, and my patience waned.

On the day of delivery, I was actually not home. My brother was staying at my house with his girlfriend, and he called me in a panic. "Betsy, my god, get home quick. Mim's in labor!!!!!" When I got home, Rob's account was simple: "Damn cat jumped up on the bed, made a horrible noise, bit me, then ran off." This clearly meant she was in labor, yet she was not in her perfectly Martha Stewart-prepared whelping box. Where the f was the cat? Rob and I split up and scoured my enormous home. We eventually located the cat UNDER THE KITCHEN SINK, WRITHING AND HISSING AMIDST BOTTLE OF CLOROX AND PALMOLIVE. We cleared out the toxic chemicals and made more room for the birthing queen. Now remember, neither one of us had any formal cat delivery training. I couldn't afford Lamaze for Mim, due to my InStyle subscription and love of Starbucks. Yes, we would have to do this on our own.

"Boil some water and tear up some sheets, "I commanded to Rob. "Put a knife under her, it cuts the pain in two." All my birthing knowledge came from Gone with the Wind and Little House on the Prairie. It turns out cats can give birth on their own. Humans don't really have to do anything. As soon as one popped out, she would lick it clean and then it would lay there like a dead rat. Rob and I would scoot it up next to her for warmth. The whole process took about 2 hours. 2 hours later, I was the owner of 6, count 'em, 6 cats. Mimosa was the proud mother of 4 kittens. It could have been worse. She could have had 12. I was actually a bit relieved.

The next 8 weeks were busy. Kashmir was even more annoyed. I became that weird woman asking random people if they wanted a free kitten. That was awkward. I'm proud to say that the Betsy Adoption Agency placed all 4 of those kittens in good homes. I knew everyone personally who adopted, so I knew they weren't going to be fed to snakes. By the time I returned to school that fall, I was back to 1 cat. Mimosa headed back to my parents' to be an outdoor kitty, since she really never adjusted to indoor life. Louie, Bella, Mulligan and Indy are all leading happy lives, and now I'm back to being the Crazy Cat Lady, with a great story to tell.

*this blog entry is endorsed by the Bob Barker Society for Spaying/Neutering your pets

Mim and her babies

Not a Good Day in the Neighborhood

My day has not been so fun. It all stems from home ownership and this most wonderful cold snap that we are currently experiencing with the weather. My day started out poorly when I simply tried to leave my house. I'm sure everyone wants to know what my house looks like, so I am posting this picture for your viewing pleasure. I've been told my house looks like something out of a children's book. See below:

Psyche! This is actually the groundskeeper's cottage from a park in London. This was taken when I visited there back in 2007. But how jealous would you be if this really was my house? Moving on...

This is more like it. This is the actual abode where I reside. I removed the heinous old-timey aluminum awnings 2 summers ago, but can't find an updated picture. When I pulled them off I placed them behind my garage so that I could take them to the aluminum man and get the $0.94 that I'm sure they were worth. When I awoke the next morning, someone had beaten me to it. That's right, I was robbed of my 1950's aluminum awnings by some heavy metal thieves. I felt violated. Anyway, along with those aluminum awnings comes ORIGINAL ALUMINUM WINDOWS. Yes, you heard me right.

I also have a slopey driveway that is damn near impossible for me to summit with my hot sassy B. Fraulein simply cannot traverse the driveway when it snows. As I tried to leave this morning, I found myself rolling backwards with the zeal and speed that my sister displayed when she used to rollerskate at the Wigwam as a 10 year old. I cried. I cursed. I was helpless. So I called this guy:

Meet Mark. He's married to Marinda, one of my dear BFFs. He is about 6'4'' and a firefighter. I know. Fabulous. He also can fix anything. He fixes my car, caulks my bathtub, paints my cabinets, etc. He's a jack of all trades. I love him. So, when Frau rolled back down, I called Mark in tears. Within 10 minutes he showed up to bail me out. He was like Paul Bunyan in my driveway this morning. Brute strength, I tell you. He dug me out and I journeyed on to school.

My weather woes continued when I got home. As you know from my previous posts, I recently got a new furnace. Francine is keeping me much warmer. However, I still have ORIGINAL ALUMINUM WINDOWS. They are a bit drafty. I give you a photo of my office as it looks normally ( please note the advanced degrees on the wall).

This is what my windows look like now! Witness me saran wrapping my windows! It involves tape, a piece of plastic, and my hairdryer! This is a fabulous, low cost alternative to replacing your old, drafty windows with new, energy-efficient windows. There are literally no drawbacks to this plan. My windows are covered with lovely sheets of plastic. I also can't open my blinds until April, since they are saran wrapped closed. It is way too difficult to try and get the plastic sealed UNDER the blinds. Geez! So a little bit warmer, but no natural sunlight until the spring. I can't wait!

New Year's Eve 2009

Sweet T and I headed to visit my crazy family for a couple of days, including New Year's Eve. We stayed Wednesday night and Thursday night, and both days were filled with lots of fun.

We celebrated Caroline's 3rd birthday two days late with some fun Target purchases. She got a sassy new dress and some fun wooden blocks. This photo was taken mere seconds after I threatened not to give her a gift if she didn't take that baby papi out of her mouth. I am learning more that my threats are worthless concerning Caroline. Her will is strong and her resolve amazing. Her negotiation skills are Churchhill-esque.

Oh, look, we just made up. No wait, I folded like a cheap stadium seat. Foiled again by the Tennessee Tyrant!

Here she strategizes about her home construction. Please note her position. She sits with her true love while Aunt Bee is solo.

Our day got busier and busier. Since my wits were no match, I decided I would defeat this child with my physical prowess, and exhaust her into a nap. Guess who else is no match for this child? That's right, Jillian Michaels. She did the ENTIRE video. The superman move was not a challenge. Her query: "What's next, Bee?"

"Sumo squats, Caroline." Again, no sign of fatigue. She is not of this earth, I tell you.

No sign of fatigue until she is coaxed into watching Strawberry Shortcake with Sweet T. Suddenly, she is very tired!

NYE started out tamely, with Caroline and Luke stacking cups like crazy children.

We also got to meet Lee Perry, child spawn of Sweet T's BFF, Craig. This baby was precious, and very easy going. He also is an exact replica of his father. Evidence pictured below:

See? Here is his daddy looking shocked as Sweet T loads a shot with pure grain alcohol. All 34 year old men do this, right?

Then one adds fire. Brilliance, I say! Baby Perry had been removed from the scene before these shenanigans started. These two fools were involved in making Flaming Doctor Pepper shots, a shot of Disarronno, a smidge of pure grain alcohol for very safe flammability, and then a small glass of beer to drop it in. I'm sure everyone is going to try to make these now.

I didn't take one of these, but I did eat about 1/2 of that pan of brownies pictured above. Jillian would have screamed in my face. Happy New Year!!!!

Happy Birthday to Sweet Caroline!

My niece Caroline is 3 years old today. She is one sassy girl, but she is also very sweet! Happy Birthday, Miss Caroline!

This was taken the first time Li'l C and I met, which I believe was also our first disagreement:)

We are a little too much alike, you see.

Even though we both want things our way, we somehow get along!

The Adventures of one K. Who Witty

I love owls. I think they are just the coolest animals. For Christmas this year, my mother bought me a stuffed owl from Anthropologie. She said she had to purchase him because he was so cute and whimsical. She also shared that when she was a young lass, a Wiley High School Red Streak if you will, she too had a stuffed owl. She named that owl K. Who Witty. A clever name, I think. I decided to name my new owl K. Who Witty as well. I will refer to him as K. Who for short.

K. Who was very well behaved in the car on the way to T's house. He wore his seatbelt and didn't make a peep.

When we arrived at the house, I decided to snap a picture of my new owl ring, a gift from my BFF Court. It is beautiful and sparkly and fun. K. Who got very jealous. He starting flapping his wings, hooting, and then he flew up among Sweet T's bourbon collection. He was completely out of reach, and I began to worry.

He stared down with a furrowed brow, then took off for the living room.

K. Witty is very clever, and tried to blend in with T's artwork above the fireplace. This almost worked, but I too am clever. He then flew back to the kitchen. Sweet T was amazed by this encounter.

I finally caught K. Who in the kitchen, but had left my owl handling glove in the car. I had to improvise and use an oven mitt. It worked like a charm as I cooed and calmed him down.

He finally settled in to relax with his co-master on the couch. Crisis averted.

If you didn't think I was weird before, you know the full extent of my quirkiness now. I have been giggling this entire time, as K. Who sits on my lap. We are both so clever, you know.

A flashback to Honey Creek Square Mall, circa 1986

Sweet T and I went to the local mall with his parents to see "Avatar." I chuckled when I got to the mall and had some flashbacks to Honey Creek Square Mall, where I shopped when I was a child in the 80's. This place was like stepping back in time.

There was actually a "snack bar." I thought about getting some cotton candy, but decided against it.

The Showplace was even better. It looked like an after school special could be filmed there at any minute, undoubtedly starring Alyssa Milano and Corey Haim.

The ticket window was CASH ONLY. The matinee tickets were also $4!

The theatre walls were decorated with painted murals. Sweet T posed by Superman.

I loved the Disney wall. I laughed as we walked to our movie, thinking about slouchy socks and Cabbage Patch dolls. This experience was fabulous.

A Kentucky Christmas

The day after Christmas, I headed down to Kentucky to visit Sweet T, his parents, and his aunt. We had afternoon tea, and then headed back to their house for cocktails and presents.

As I sipped my cosmo, I opened my lovely new purse from Sweet T. I feigned surprise at its beauty, but I myself was instrumental in procuring it. I saw it at Nordstrom a few weeks ago, and quickly connected Sweet T to the salesgirl. Cha-ching, new purse for me!

Merry Christmas, Aunt Shirley. I give to you... a picture of me!

Pat and Eddie were not left out. They also received pictures of me as a gift. All of the pictures featured their son as well.

New Ray-bans from Jane and Bob. My parents are excellent gift-givers!

As I slurp my drink, I spy with my little eye a liquor stopper. How appropriate!

Aunt Shirley gave me this beautiful scarf. Stylish, but also functional to hide my giraffe neck.

At this point I'm feeling the love, the booze, and my new Lola perfume.

We thought it would be fun to model our newest gifts!