Yes, this really is a post about my cat

Mozart is an indoor cat.  Can't you tell?

Every once in a while, I'll let him out into the backyard, as long as I'm there to make sure he doesn't take off to patrol the neighborhood.

 The only problem with our little routine, is that Mozart has fallen in looove.  He is really a smitten kitten.  He gets this look in his eye.  He paws at the sliding glass door in the morning begging to go outside to see his love.  I can see the anticipation building up in his little body.  Yes, Mozart has a girlfriend.


Her name?

 Lilac.  He purrs.  He pushes the side of his face all over these poor lilac bushes.  He kisses them.  Whispers sweet nothings (in Catonese of course) and seems irritated if I interrupt his little love fest.  I really don't think it will last long.  Maybe until October at the most.  It's a strange love affair for sure.

 He did stray for a little bit.  He walked the perimeter of the yard, saying hello to the aspen.

 Completely ignoring the birds who were warning each other that there was a hairy beast on the ground.  Fluttering leaves were much more interesting than the noisy chirps.

He's obviously not lacking in food hence the lack of attention to his feathered friends.  The aspen leaves only held his attention so long.  And then he was back to the love of his, uh, season: Lilac.

Bullets and junk

• It really should be illegal for the weather to contain a '4' in the first number as we approach the end of May.
• It should also be illegal for children to be done with school any time before June.
• When bullet points 1 & 2 crash together, my tradition of Slurpees on the last day of school go out the window.  Except the window was closed and the heat was on in the car because it was cold and rainy.
• I finally, for the first time in my life, bought new towels. 
• I'm wondering if swallows migrate through Colorado because that sure is what all of those crazy birds swooping between cars, searching for moths to eat, look like.
• I use, way, too many commas, when I write.
• There's so much excitement and craziness going on back home and I really wish I was there.
• I miss the ocean.  A lot.
• I do not miss the rude people of my home state.
• I miss plants that don't have the word 'pine' in them.
• I am on this weird fascination kick with Mormonism's polygamy thing, watching the show on TLC and reading The 19th Wife.
• I could NEVER share my husband.
• I should really clean my house.
• And clean out my DVR.
• The Rapture didn't happen, and I knew it wouldn't link
• I had to explain Ska to someone and I'm not even sure I did it correctly
• I'm considering taking the carpet off my stairs
• My kids fall down and UP the stairs so often I'm not sure that's a smart idea.
• I'm super desperate for a girls night out!

When it Rains it Pours

My very young (read aged 54) aunt had a mild heart attack yesterday. If that wasn’t bad enough, she is the sole health care provider for her husband, my maternal uncle, who has debilitating rheumatoid arthritis. This guy has had more wrenches thrown in his gears than anyone I know. It’s not just like he gets a sore knuckle when it rains. He has metal plates keeping his head attached to rest of his body. He’s been wheelchair bound for years and been in the hospital more than the mom from 19 kids and counting. He’s an amputee and really can’t do much for himself. Yet he still takes time to work on his art, root for NASCAR and give me a load of crap on my voicemail if I don’t answer my phone right away.

Being my uncle’s nurse for so long, my aunt takes care of all of his meds. He couldn’t tell you what exactly he takes or when and he’s on a LOT of meds. She worries about that for him. My mom’s concern over her baby brother included medication related issues. I assured her that there were enough competent people around so she wouldn’t worry too much and feel like she HAD to go up there and cancel her very important plans for this weekend.

And then I got word that my uncle OD’d. He’s ok now, but he took too much of something and was rushed to the hospital. Oh, and we just found out that my aunt has to have triple bypass surgery. My goodness. I have one really awesome thing that’s really my focus right now and two pretty stressful things that are competing for my attention.

Never ask the question, “What else?” because you probably won’t like the answer.

This is what the inside of my head looks like right now:

Usually, when my head looks like this, I write.  And I have.  But not here.  Not yet.  Hopefully soon.  Ish.  Maybe.  So when I can't write because I'd have to kill you if I did, I put up pictures!  Nothing is wrong.  Everything is kosher.  No worries from those of you who do because God is in control, Halleluja.  Man, if I were in control, the whole world would look like the inside of my head and that would just be bad.  And messy.

Dirty Money

We paid our final car payment in January.  Woohoo!  The PLAN was to then set aside that car payment each month and save up to buy our next car with cash a la Dave Ramsey style.  And then God laughed at our plans.

We had to replace our dishwasher about five months ago which ate into our savings.  The "extra" car payment helped us build that back up but we were basically going into debt by borrowing from ourselves.  And then Bill blew a tire.  And you can't just replace one tire, especially when you fail the Lincoln test.  And so we ended up buying four new tires.  Throw Christmas and a bunch of birthdays in there and the Ramsey approach to money just flew out the window.  Fortunately, the window didn't need replacing so we saved some money there.

And then it happened.  It smelled funny.  Like burning rubber.  And I had images of my laundry room/master closet/linen closet (they're all one big room) bursting into flames.  I've seen my mom take apart appliances because there was no savings and we needed things to work.  If she could do it, I could do it.  Well, I could make my husband do it.  I was sure a belt in my faithful 14 year old washing machine was about to go out.  Turns out, there is no belt in my model.  It would most likely be the doo-hickey thingie according to the local appliance repair guy.  So we took the doo-hickey thingie out and brought it to the store to replace it.  Husband puts in new doo-hickey thingie and the washing machine is started.  And it smells like a huge tire bonfire.  And I'm sure that we're going to die AND lose all of our clothes in a fire or pass out from the horrible smell.  We paid $30 to replace that smelly part and were told a new engine would be around $100.  But what if we spent $100 now and then something else broke?  The agitator?  The transmission?  The hickey-doo? 



RIP 1997-2011



I'm frugal.  I hate to spend large amounts of money if I don't have to.  Buuut...we bought this washing machine in 1997.  It's been in five homes in five different cities, two different states.  Maybe it's time to consider replacing it.

I'm not just frugal, I'm particular.  Some may say obsessive.  Others may say anal.  I say I like to do my research so we get the best in the price range we can afford.  I spent three hours researching washing machines and we were able to take home our new workhorse today.  Our SUV was big enough to shove that baby back there.  What we didn't think about was whether or not the door was wide enough to get the machine in.  Oops.

No doors or husbands were injured.  We did end up taking it out of the box while it was still in the garage though.  Then came the hard part.  Bill and I nearly killed ourselves trying to get it up the stairs, but we made it.  I don't have any pictures of that but I will say that my hamstrings are screaming at me right now.

There are 101 pages of instruction on how to use my new machine.  Granted, there are three languages but I had to sit and study and still ended up doing something wrong the first time I washed a load of clothes.

And here she is.  My new BFF.  The one I will spend many hours with.  She is also very particular and only drinks the finest of drinks.



Thankfully I was almost done with my Costco sized bottle of Tide.  Now I have to buy this stuff.  High maintenance I tell ya.

But, she sings to me.  She sings when the power is on and she sings when she's done washing.  And I'm singing knowing that everyone will have clean chonies very soon.

Le Artiste

My daughter, like most kids, likes to draw.  A lot.  Any chance she gets at a fresh piece of white paper and her box of markers, she'll take.  She'll usually draw your normal scenario: flowers, rainbows, the family cats, a house, etc.  Sometimes I'm not really sure how her brain works and she comes up with doozies like this:

Notice the lighting, shadowing and composition.  Notice the use of color and depth.  Or don't because this is just a really weird picture created out of the mind of a six year old girl.  What the heck is it?

(click on picture to see full size)

Let's explore.  We have two sets of stairs in our house.  Leah was very clear that these were the stairs DOWN to the basement.  Because why would some creepy thing happen on the main floor?  Didn't you watch Home Alone?  Trey, the one-eyed man child has lifted his diminutive sister above his head and is preparing to devour her.  I, with my awesome adaptable legs similar to that funny sheet on tv that only covers the guy from the waist down but covers the girl from the chest down, am obviously NOT happy that my son is misbehaving.  Notice the lack of horror on my face.  It's more of a "I can't believe you're doing this again after I told you not to" face.  Does Leah feel threatened by her huge brother?  Not a bit.  If anything, he's more concerned with her sneaking up on him and starting a brawl.  Is this world too overwhelming for her?  She's six.  The answer is no.  Why did she give me such ugly pants?  Maybe she wants me to be happy and is encouraging me to be happy.

Or, she just has a twisted mind in that tiny head and I should start saving for therapy NOW.

Wintry

It's been a little cold here lately.

It was even a bit too cold for my adventurous feline to venture too far.  He decided the top step on the patio was far enough.



What can I say?  We Californians aren't too fond of this white stuff.