Before I get started about dating at middle age...or ANY age, if you haven't read SalGal's post under Donde Esta La Biblioteca, please pause and scroll down until you find it. I haven't laughed that hard since 6th grade!! It's one of her best!
Now then...I just want to talk about how incredibly tired I am of watching the thousands of preening, postulating birds who are using this spring season to indulge in totally public fornication at random and everywhere! They're just shameless about it. But, it is kinda fascinating to watch the male birds puffing themselves all up as they try to get the attention of the females who appear as though they could care less (hmmmmm). Then, all of a sudden, it's rape!
You can just tell that the women birds have not been satisfied. So, they slut around AGAIN and it just turns into a gang rape at times. It's so unbecoming yet they just can't be stopped, and it's at these times that you could walk right up to a male bird and lecture it without one bit of success because those males are FOCUSED...and they are not using protection either. I think there should be teeny wienie bird condoms, don't you?
If I sound bitter it may be because I was just 'REJECTED' by an unknown man named Bob (I changed his name from Philip ( to protect his privacy) who lives in another Texas town! And, I've never even MET him! I signed on with chemistry.com which is the group for E-Harmony rejects, and I am definitely an E-Harmony reject...thinking love awaited me online. After exchanging 'profiles' and moving to the 'short answers' level in which I was able to write a bit more about myself...like the URL of this blog, I was put in the 'waiting' box until Philip (I mean Bob) read my 'short answers' and responded in kind.
Suddenly, and without explanation, he vanished from my 'active matches' section. Hehehehe. So, oh boy is this blog ever a test for the strong to survive! I did tell Phil (Bob) that if he was still interested in me after perusing our blog then he had 'gumption' and I would be willin to meet him. Hehehehe...WHAT A COWARD!
So, it's onward through the fog I go...blumblefucking my way through the dating game and daring any comers to adore my blog/adore my sis/adore me!
Love,
KK
PS-I DO still have my inflatable husband, Steve McQueen, anyway!
************************************************
Well, I think KK has pretty much covered the birds. But what about the bees? Do bees have penises? You know there's only one queen bee in each hive and she lays all of the eggs. Does that mean all the males screw her? Poor thing!! Talk about gang rape. And I bet she is pretty sticky what with all that honey on the mens' legs.
The bees basically perform sex for the flowers through cross-pollination. I remember from elementary school that they get pollen from one flower on their legs and then when they land on another flower the pollen gets on that one and bingo! the other one is pregnant. I think it has to be a female plant though. So the bees are basically storks for the plants and maybe some of them are dominatrix. After that I don't understand what happens. Does the pollen get on the stamen thingy that sticks out like a plant penis? But then how does the pollen turn into a baby/fetus plant? Do the cells multiply and if you did an ultra sound of the plant could you see little buds curling up? And would you be able to tell if the baby seed was a girl or boy? Pink or blue that is the question.
I don't date. It's too distracting. Dating is like owning a horse. You start off having fun but then the ride gets bumpy, you find out the horse is too expensive to feed and then he urinates on the geraniums.
I would rather write or do our videos or go out with my sweet KK. I would rather eat Brussel sprouts than date and I really hate Brussel sprouts. But that's just me.
You go right on...
SalGal
Friday, April 4, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Donde Esta La Biblioteca?
Learning a language at this age is impossible. All of us near the Mexican border studied spanish in high school and this is the only thing I remember of it. It means, 'Where is the library.' This would be so useful if I were ever in Mexico looking for a library. Since then, there have been many, many moments where I wish I had paid more attention in my high school spanish class because there are opportunities everyday to speak spanish in Texas. For example, if you don't understand an instructional manual in english, just keep reading and eventually the text turns into spanish. It will either encourage immediate cursing or some spanish word might make more sense to you than the english word. Let me know how that works for you.
I studied Italian for six years, but that was many years ago when I lived in New York. Believe it or not, there were occasions to use it on the streets of Manhattan, but I learned Italian because I went to Italy. A trip that not only changed my life but made me ANGRY that I wasn't BORN Italian. I must have been an Italian in a former life or something because the connection was staggering. So, whenever I go to Italy, I can understand what the lovely Italians are saying now. They are rarely able to understand what I'm saying however, because I've forgotten most of what I learned. Does that stop me? Pish posh!
So, I attend an Italian language meetup group twice a month here in the A-Town. We meet at an Italian restaurant and just sit around a table and eat, drink wine and speak Italian. It's more fun than a barrel of monkeys (Italian monkeys of course). If I had a hidden camera at these gatherings, it would horrify me, I'm sure...to watch myself struggling for a simple word in Italian like 'them' or 'house' or 'food.'
Luckily, we are all pretty much in the same leaky boat as we stutter and struggle and finally give up and whip out our mini dictionary. It's fun! Nevermind that the mistakes people make can be embarrassing...like the time someone asked me in Italian, "What makes you and your friend so close?" With my best Italian accent (which is really good), I thought I answered with, "Because we understand each other," when instead what I said was, "Because we piss on each other." the reaction was immediate with mouths agape, an awkward 2 or 3 seconds of stunned silence, then hysterical guffaws at my expense. Evidently, the verb 'to understand' and the verb 'to piss' sound eerily similar. It was an innocent mistake.
That won't stop me, oh no. I'll continue to embarrass myself until I'm living happily in my villa in Siena asking my housekeeper in Italian to please bring me biscotti and some Vin Santo!!
Ciao,
KK
************************************************************
My favorite phrase in spanish is 'Que lastima!'. I don't know why I never forgot that. It means 'what a shame' or 'too bad!'. And KK turned me on to her favorite word in Spanish which is 'rascacielo' That means 'skyscraper'. Somebody at the dry cleaners called me a puta loca once when I was in a hurry and accidentally cut in front of her. I thought she was leaving. So I think puta loca must mean 'hurried lady' or maybe 'crazy whore'. I'm not sure.
I had four years of French in high school. It sucked because the teacher was my sister's husband's aunt and she was somewhat of a puritan. Actually, she may have been a chartreuse or is it chanteuse (in high school it's hard to imagine your french teacher having sex). But also you just don't want to discuss the french word for Budwieser with someone who knows your mother's telephone number.
I don't understand why there are so many different languages. Didn't everybody speak Latin at one time? Or maybe African? So then if they migrated to America and France and Sweden...why didn't they keep speaking the same language? That way, we'd all speak only one language and you wouldn't have to translate stuff like 'where is the bathroom?', 'whatever' or 'dude, s'up?'. No matter where you went you would be able to understand everybody. But no, some dickhead had to speak up and say, 'Hey, now that we are in a new place I vote we start speaking a different language! Who's with me!' And everybody did and now look at the fix we're in. Now you have to know the word for asshole in six languages just to make it alive from
Brooklyn to Madison Square Garden on the subway.
So sayanora for today. Areevadairchi, hasta la vista, aloha, chiao, see ya, voulez vous couchet avec moi su soir, buenos snow shoes, owf veederzane, chinga tu madre and have a nice day...
SalGal
I studied Italian for six years, but that was many years ago when I lived in New York. Believe it or not, there were occasions to use it on the streets of Manhattan, but I learned Italian because I went to Italy. A trip that not only changed my life but made me ANGRY that I wasn't BORN Italian. I must have been an Italian in a former life or something because the connection was staggering. So, whenever I go to Italy, I can understand what the lovely Italians are saying now. They are rarely able to understand what I'm saying however, because I've forgotten most of what I learned. Does that stop me? Pish posh!
So, I attend an Italian language meetup group twice a month here in the A-Town. We meet at an Italian restaurant and just sit around a table and eat, drink wine and speak Italian. It's more fun than a barrel of monkeys (Italian monkeys of course). If I had a hidden camera at these gatherings, it would horrify me, I'm sure...to watch myself struggling for a simple word in Italian like 'them' or 'house' or 'food.'
Luckily, we are all pretty much in the same leaky boat as we stutter and struggle and finally give up and whip out our mini dictionary. It's fun! Nevermind that the mistakes people make can be embarrassing...like the time someone asked me in Italian, "What makes you and your friend so close?" With my best Italian accent (which is really good), I thought I answered with, "Because we understand each other," when instead what I said was, "Because we piss on each other." the reaction was immediate with mouths agape, an awkward 2 or 3 seconds of stunned silence, then hysterical guffaws at my expense. Evidently, the verb 'to understand' and the verb 'to piss' sound eerily similar. It was an innocent mistake.
That won't stop me, oh no. I'll continue to embarrass myself until I'm living happily in my villa in Siena asking my housekeeper in Italian to please bring me biscotti and some Vin Santo!!
Ciao,
KK
************************************************************
My favorite phrase in spanish is 'Que lastima!'. I don't know why I never forgot that. It means 'what a shame' or 'too bad!'. And KK turned me on to her favorite word in Spanish which is 'rascacielo' That means 'skyscraper'. Somebody at the dry cleaners called me a puta loca once when I was in a hurry and accidentally cut in front of her. I thought she was leaving. So I think puta loca must mean 'hurried lady' or maybe 'crazy whore'. I'm not sure.
I had four years of French in high school. It sucked because the teacher was my sister's husband's aunt and she was somewhat of a puritan. Actually, she may have been a chartreuse or is it chanteuse (in high school it's hard to imagine your french teacher having sex). But also you just don't want to discuss the french word for Budwieser with someone who knows your mother's telephone number.
I don't understand why there are so many different languages. Didn't everybody speak Latin at one time? Or maybe African? So then if they migrated to America and France and Sweden...why didn't they keep speaking the same language? That way, we'd all speak only one language and you wouldn't have to translate stuff like 'where is the bathroom?', 'whatever' or 'dude, s'up?'. No matter where you went you would be able to understand everybody. But no, some dickhead had to speak up and say, 'Hey, now that we are in a new place I vote we start speaking a different language! Who's with me!' And everybody did and now look at the fix we're in. Now you have to know the word for asshole in six languages just to make it alive from
Brooklyn to Madison Square Garden on the subway.
So sayanora for today. Areevadairchi, hasta la vista, aloha, chiao, see ya, voulez vous couchet avec moi su soir, buenos snow shoes, owf veederzane, chinga tu madre and have a nice day...
SalGal
Sunday, March 30, 2008
First Memories...
I used to think that I was the only adult whose first memory ever as a human being girl child was scary as shit. I thought other people had memories of bunnies, ice cream and puppy dogs. I started my survey yesterday when dining with my cousin, Nancy, her husband, Gary, SalGal and The Ancient One. I posed the question, "What was your very first memory?" It's a question that can be 'offputting' (oh, another word I like...offputting...is it really a word?)...so I started telling mine to give them time to think about their own first memories.
I was 3 years old and stuck in a garden by myself in the summer in Santa Fe. At the age of 3, I wasn't as tall as I am now, and the flower garden I was in was filled with Holly Hocks and rose bushes. Holly Hocks can grown to 6 or 7 feet tall. How I wound up in the garden as a defenseless 3-year-old all alone is not actually known. You'd have to ask the Ancient One, and she'll certainly not fault her parenting skills, I can assure you. So, that was really it. I just remember crying and screaming because I thought I was lost forever. Holly Hocks still scare me whenever I see them.
Cousin, Nancy was 4 years old and was playing with a Boxer. He got tired of her harassing him, as dogs' attention spans are stilted at best. She went to kiss him and he tried to bite the mouth off her face! I thought getting lost in a garden was bad. She remembered the blood and going to the hospital for stitches all around her mouth, but her main memory is of coming home from the hospital that evening. Her mouth was practically stitched closed in the shape of a dry kiss and would stay that way for days. Her mother, The Ancient One's sister, had cooked her corn on the cob for dinner. I'm learning so much about the maternal instincts that the women in my family carry, and this one is absolutely priceless.
And, as if that weren't bad enough, it was The Ancient One's turn to play the memory game. Her first memory was of being locked in HER mother's closet (by HER MOTHER). She musta done something wrong, but to be locked in a closet...I'm just saying. Anyway, in order to pay her mother back, The Wee One blew her nose on the hems of her mother's pretty chiffon dresses. Another inlet in the Jackson family waters of the River Dysfunction.
As I've always said, show me a family that isn't dysfunctional, and I'll call you a liar. Nancy's husband, Gary who grew up in Idalou, Texas (I challenge ANYone...even WITH knowledge of the Texas panhandle to be able to spot Idalou on a map). Bless his heart, his first memory was of being in his back yard there in Idalou with his older brother shooting him with a BB gun. It's not exactly like having "The Christmas Story" accident with the BB gun...this boy was hunting his baby brother. Gary remembered BBs in his legs and hiding behind a tree (and there weren't too many trees IN west Texas, so the trunk of this one was probably pencil thin).
SalGal's first memory is sooooooo like her that I don't dare try to speak for her. She can tell you herself.
So, there you have it...let the survey continue, which I KNOW, is causing all of you to immediately look far away as you reach back in the 'way back' to retrieve that first memory of yours. Gawd, I hope it was a happy one, for pity's sake!
Love,
KK
**************************************
Lots of people won't believe me but I swear this is true. My first memory is I'm in my crib and I'm trying to walk but I can't. And I'm thinking to myself that I know I can walk and why is it so hard all of a sudden? I know I can do it. But why can't I do it? My stuffed pink elephant is in the crib with me.
The Ancient One tells everybody that I got up in my crib and walked around when I was 5 months old. My bones were not strong enough to hold my body up so my legs bowed and I ended up in leg braces just like the ones in 'Forest Gump'. In fact I think those were mine they used for props in the movie. By the way, if there are any young mothers out there, skipping the crawling phase is a symptom of dyslexia. It's been a battle all of my life, especially since nobody knew what dyslexia was in the early 1950's. All I can say is that it's really weird to have a one hundred and forty IQ and still have trouble telling my right hand from my left.
Then I remember other things like KK arriving, kittens being born in the bottom of the closet and that the dolls lined up along the wall were creepy. Mother says I enjoyed playing alone and could occupy myself for hours in my room. Once she had her girlfriends over for the regular Wednesday poker game and after about an hour she noticed that there had not been a peep out of me for hours. She went into my room and found that I had taken a dump in my diapers and then discovered how much fun it was to dip my hand in it and throw it against the walls.
I bet I had a blast but that...I don't remember,
SalGal
I was 3 years old and stuck in a garden by myself in the summer in Santa Fe. At the age of 3, I wasn't as tall as I am now, and the flower garden I was in was filled with Holly Hocks and rose bushes. Holly Hocks can grown to 6 or 7 feet tall. How I wound up in the garden as a defenseless 3-year-old all alone is not actually known. You'd have to ask the Ancient One, and she'll certainly not fault her parenting skills, I can assure you. So, that was really it. I just remember crying and screaming because I thought I was lost forever. Holly Hocks still scare me whenever I see them.
Cousin, Nancy was 4 years old and was playing with a Boxer. He got tired of her harassing him, as dogs' attention spans are stilted at best. She went to kiss him and he tried to bite the mouth off her face! I thought getting lost in a garden was bad. She remembered the blood and going to the hospital for stitches all around her mouth, but her main memory is of coming home from the hospital that evening. Her mouth was practically stitched closed in the shape of a dry kiss and would stay that way for days. Her mother, The Ancient One's sister, had cooked her corn on the cob for dinner. I'm learning so much about the maternal instincts that the women in my family carry, and this one is absolutely priceless.
And, as if that weren't bad enough, it was The Ancient One's turn to play the memory game. Her first memory was of being locked in HER mother's closet (by HER MOTHER). She musta done something wrong, but to be locked in a closet...I'm just saying. Anyway, in order to pay her mother back, The Wee One blew her nose on the hems of her mother's pretty chiffon dresses. Another inlet in the Jackson family waters of the River Dysfunction.
As I've always said, show me a family that isn't dysfunctional, and I'll call you a liar. Nancy's husband, Gary who grew up in Idalou, Texas (I challenge ANYone...even WITH knowledge of the Texas panhandle to be able to spot Idalou on a map). Bless his heart, his first memory was of being in his back yard there in Idalou with his older brother shooting him with a BB gun. It's not exactly like having "The Christmas Story" accident with the BB gun...this boy was hunting his baby brother. Gary remembered BBs in his legs and hiding behind a tree (and there weren't too many trees IN west Texas, so the trunk of this one was probably pencil thin).
SalGal's first memory is sooooooo like her that I don't dare try to speak for her. She can tell you herself.
So, there you have it...let the survey continue, which I KNOW, is causing all of you to immediately look far away as you reach back in the 'way back' to retrieve that first memory of yours. Gawd, I hope it was a happy one, for pity's sake!
Love,
KK
**************************************
Lots of people won't believe me but I swear this is true. My first memory is I'm in my crib and I'm trying to walk but I can't. And I'm thinking to myself that I know I can walk and why is it so hard all of a sudden? I know I can do it. But why can't I do it? My stuffed pink elephant is in the crib with me.
The Ancient One tells everybody that I got up in my crib and walked around when I was 5 months old. My bones were not strong enough to hold my body up so my legs bowed and I ended up in leg braces just like the ones in 'Forest Gump'. In fact I think those were mine they used for props in the movie. By the way, if there are any young mothers out there, skipping the crawling phase is a symptom of dyslexia. It's been a battle all of my life, especially since nobody knew what dyslexia was in the early 1950's. All I can say is that it's really weird to have a one hundred and forty IQ and still have trouble telling my right hand from my left.
Then I remember other things like KK arriving, kittens being born in the bottom of the closet and that the dolls lined up along the wall were creepy. Mother says I enjoyed playing alone and could occupy myself for hours in my room. Once she had her girlfriends over for the regular Wednesday poker game and after about an hour she noticed that there had not been a peep out of me for hours. She went into my room and found that I had taken a dump in my diapers and then discovered how much fun it was to dip my hand in it and throw it against the walls.
I bet I had a blast but that...I don't remember,
SalGal
Saturday, March 29, 2008
The Sandwich Scouts
The nicest man wrote a glowing comment to us about the Midlife Gals this morning. He has more experience with Ancient Ones than anyone since he was in family-practice medicine specializing in geriatric care for 31 years! He's retired now and wants to give us all MERIT BADGES for our work with our own Ancient Ones. Isn't that a FANTASTIC idea?? Here is the link to Sandwich Scouts
I love this man (although he has a wife, and I'm sure she's probably very pretty and nice and everything, but...)I love him! He totally gets our need for humor, even the wacky humor coming from The Midlife Gals. And yet, he's STILL got empathy after taking care of ancient ones for so many years. People like this are ANGELS and should be heralded.
If you are taking care of an aging parent, you gotta go to his site and tell all of your friends so he can expand his merit badge network. If I just knew how to sew, I'd make a sash like we wore in the Brownies and attach his badges all over it, because after perusing what his badges are for, Sal and I qualify in almost every single category!!! As of now, you can simply download any merit badge you think you're entitled to...and since it's the honor system, you can lie your ass off about it, thus making yourself feel so much better as you print your badges. SalGal and I are making a border on our 'magic room' wall of all the badges we've earned. We're so proud already!
Have fun with 'Dr' Phil (his name is Phil) and let him know who you are!!
Love,
KK and SalGal
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Pets R Us
The Gods have such a sense of humor where our pets are concerned, don't they? We are three women with three cats, moving through each other's zones in this house and causing laughter wherever it comes...and it comes every day without fail. All they have to do is look at us sometimes and we crack up. But, then you know how easily amused we are!
I brought over two cats when I moved in with Sal and The Ancient One...Dammit and Odessa. Dammit is my Ancient Kitty and Odessa, a spoiled toddler. Can you guess which one is really like me? Dammit has found her place in this house by The Ancient One's side. Sal and I often look at the couch to find both The Ancient One and Dammit snoring with their mouths half open. Dammit sleeps on top of the backrest so she has a view of everything and everyone. She just has an 'air' about her...rarely smiling, judging all who walk by and as consumed with the Fox News channel as her counterpart, TAO.
I also brought along my little Odessa, a long-haired calico who is so fat that we're not sure she even has a neck or legs. She's soft like a bunny rabbit, but tough as nails when it comes to holding her own with Sally's cat, Buddy. If we don't monitor the cats' eating twice a day, if either one of the other two walk away, Odessa sneaks to their bowls and gobbles down their food before you can say licketysplit. She stays where you put her which is most unlike a cat. She has few boundaries and is willful beyond the norm. She won't come near The Ancient One and although she adores Sal, she's my bitch and I'm hers.
Buddy was found in a dumpster in LA and brought to our house by Sally, and he is sooooo L.AAAA. He's handsome and knows it. He's also the only member of our household who has front claws. He thought he was the alpha cat until I showed up, and we had our moments at first. He likes to bite and he's fast as lightening. He's completely besotted with Odessa too. He wants her even though he's a eunich. She teases him mercilessly and every now and then we'll see him trying the dry nasty with her. She lets him which shows where her boundaries are. Buddy would like to kill Dammit. He just doesn't like her, doesn't understand her and wants her gone. He feels that way about The Ancient One as well. A water spray bottle is the only thing that has kept Dammit alive when he's on the prowl. He squints his eyes if we even pick up the spray bottle.
Dogs R not us! They were us, but we've grown old, slow and soft and that's why we like cats...that and the fact that we don't have to walk them or carry old plastic shopping bags around to pick up their poo. They slobber and smell, but they love us, and we applaud all of you dog people, really. We're just done with them.
Everyone should have a pet even if it's a fish!
KK
**************************************************************
I love my cat Buddy. He is a rascal, a scoundrel and a maker of tomfoolery. His eyes are the color of the inside of a kiwi fruit. He is black and white with very long hair that is so fine, when you touch it you can't even feel it on your fingers. It's that soft.
I imagine that in Buddy's mind he is the perfect cat. He keeps guard at the screen door, stays out of The Ancient One's way and keeps his penis clean. A dutiful cat. Buddy checks the corners for bugs and makes sure the bluebirds in the birdbath don't stay too long. Runs at the windows do this and also keep the squirrels from eating my deck plants. An exemplary cat.
When Buddy was left in the dumpster in downtown LA on skid row, I imagine he figured his master would be back to get him. He didn't know he wasn't wanted anymore... so he just waited. But the God of Cats was watching out for him. Little did he know that when that soft-hearted, redheaded animal activist named Raegan grabbed him out of that big metal box, he was headed uptown to that big skyscraper in the sky. And little did I know that the two of them together would look at me with their green eyes and sucker me into becoming Buddy's new assistant. A conniving cat. Screw the guy who owned him before, this was a new world filled with chairs to scratch, MeowMix salmon, tuna and shrimp and a mommy who didn't care if he slept on the bed.
So now Buddy, the Turkish Angora, saunters around like the king of his domain, keeps Dammit in her place with The Ancient One, abuses Odessa daily (she loves it) and makes sure the c's and J's on KK's computer work. We know this because when he is gone his work is visible on the screen.
Cats are easy. Go get one. Bring home a baby and push its paw in the kittylitter and you will have a friend that is quiet, house trained and doesn't bark when you sing.
SalGal
I brought over two cats when I moved in with Sal and The Ancient One...Dammit and Odessa. Dammit is my Ancient Kitty and Odessa, a spoiled toddler. Can you guess which one is really like me? Dammit has found her place in this house by The Ancient One's side. Sal and I often look at the couch to find both The Ancient One and Dammit snoring with their mouths half open. Dammit sleeps on top of the backrest so she has a view of everything and everyone. She just has an 'air' about her...rarely smiling, judging all who walk by and as consumed with the Fox News channel as her counterpart, TAO.
I also brought along my little Odessa, a long-haired calico who is so fat that we're not sure she even has a neck or legs. She's soft like a bunny rabbit, but tough as nails when it comes to holding her own with Sally's cat, Buddy. If we don't monitor the cats' eating twice a day, if either one of the other two walk away, Odessa sneaks to their bowls and gobbles down their food before you can say licketysplit. She stays where you put her which is most unlike a cat. She has few boundaries and is willful beyond the norm. She won't come near The Ancient One and although she adores Sal, she's my bitch and I'm hers.
Buddy was found in a dumpster in LA and brought to our house by Sally, and he is sooooo L.AAAA. He's handsome and knows it. He's also the only member of our household who has front claws. He thought he was the alpha cat until I showed up, and we had our moments at first. He likes to bite and he's fast as lightening. He's completely besotted with Odessa too. He wants her even though he's a eunich. She teases him mercilessly and every now and then we'll see him trying the dry nasty with her. She lets him which shows where her boundaries are. Buddy would like to kill Dammit. He just doesn't like her, doesn't understand her and wants her gone. He feels that way about The Ancient One as well. A water spray bottle is the only thing that has kept Dammit alive when he's on the prowl. He squints his eyes if we even pick up the spray bottle.
Dogs R not us! They were us, but we've grown old, slow and soft and that's why we like cats...that and the fact that we don't have to walk them or carry old plastic shopping bags around to pick up their poo. They slobber and smell, but they love us, and we applaud all of you dog people, really. We're just done with them.
Everyone should have a pet even if it's a fish!
KK
**************************************************************
I love my cat Buddy. He is a rascal, a scoundrel and a maker of tomfoolery. His eyes are the color of the inside of a kiwi fruit. He is black and white with very long hair that is so fine, when you touch it you can't even feel it on your fingers. It's that soft.
I imagine that in Buddy's mind he is the perfect cat. He keeps guard at the screen door, stays out of The Ancient One's way and keeps his penis clean. A dutiful cat. Buddy checks the corners for bugs and makes sure the bluebirds in the birdbath don't stay too long. Runs at the windows do this and also keep the squirrels from eating my deck plants. An exemplary cat.
When Buddy was left in the dumpster in downtown LA on skid row, I imagine he figured his master would be back to get him. He didn't know he wasn't wanted anymore... so he just waited. But the God of Cats was watching out for him. Little did he know that when that soft-hearted, redheaded animal activist named Raegan grabbed him out of that big metal box, he was headed uptown to that big skyscraper in the sky. And little did I know that the two of them together would look at me with their green eyes and sucker me into becoming Buddy's new assistant. A conniving cat. Screw the guy who owned him before, this was a new world filled with chairs to scratch, MeowMix salmon, tuna and shrimp and a mommy who didn't care if he slept on the bed.
So now Buddy, the Turkish Angora, saunters around like the king of his domain, keeps Dammit in her place with The Ancient One, abuses Odessa daily (she loves it) and makes sure the c's and J's on KK's computer work. We know this because when he is gone his work is visible on the screen.
Cats are easy. Go get one. Bring home a baby and push its paw in the kittylitter and you will have a friend that is quiet, house trained and doesn't bark when you sing.
SalGal
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
These Are a Few of My Favorite Things
A dear friend of mine sent me a partial list of 'favorite things' that he found on a legal pad in his father's house after he died:
chicken fried steak
the smell of rain
puppy breath and...
fresh green beans
My friend has his own list too which includes:
saddles
west Texas thunderstorms
the smell of a horse and...
anyone who is creative
I just love these lists, so I want to revisit mine in the hope that some of my favorites will trigger your own list:
a cat's purr
the feel of chinchilla
a hotdog at the ball park
the first spring crocus that I spot
a really great movie
good news in the mail
a beauty parlor shampoo
the smell of a horse
the sound of spurs when a cowboy walks
the sound of leather in a saddle
the smells of Italy
the sound of two old Italian women talking on the street
a shopping spree
the sounds of dove in the early morning
...I could just go on and on, but I'm tarnishing my cynical image with all this schmaltz, aren't I? Today is just an exquisite day in the Texas hill country. Have a GREAT day wherever you all are and spend all day today thinking about your own lists...write them down!
Love,
KK
*****************************************************
I think it's a great way to be grateful. Spring is for new beginnings, fresh starts and animals screwing each other in the yard.
I love the smell of Wysteria, the garlic that wafts down 6th Street and the top of my cat's head.
I love the taste of Stubb's Bar-B-Q, Fino's basil Mojitos and man-skin.
I love the sound of Garth Brooks, wind chimes in the trees and cat's feet running through the house. The last one sounds like fairies are scampering about just out of sight.
I love to look at pretty, young men and The Ancient One when she's asleep. Looking at KK in our videos makes me laugh every time.
I love to touch roses, stone sculptures, birds and elephant skin. The world is so full of so many amazing things to experience; food, art and crispy oysters at Jeffry's - nighttime laughter, KK's grilled cheese sandwiches and skinny-dipping at Hippie Hollow. (I haven't done that in about 30 years)
My favorite thing of all though is to make people laugh. It's good for you. You live longer the more you laugh. You are healthier and you don't have time to honk at people when you're laughing. It feels good to do it, hear it and participate in it. It's like a strong drug that is free, over-the-counter and multiplies as you pass it around.
So today I'm going to be grateful for everything I see and think of weird ways to make people laugh. Don't tell KK or she will get worried. I can just hear her now, "SalGaaaal...what are you theenkeeeng...?'
Shhh...
SalGal
chicken fried steak
the smell of rain
puppy breath and...
fresh green beans
My friend has his own list too which includes:
saddles
west Texas thunderstorms
the smell of a horse and...
anyone who is creative
I just love these lists, so I want to revisit mine in the hope that some of my favorites will trigger your own list:
a cat's purr
the feel of chinchilla
a hotdog at the ball park
the first spring crocus that I spot
a really great movie
good news in the mail
a beauty parlor shampoo
the smell of a horse
the sound of spurs when a cowboy walks
the sound of leather in a saddle
the smells of Italy
the sound of two old Italian women talking on the street
a shopping spree
the sounds of dove in the early morning
...I could just go on and on, but I'm tarnishing my cynical image with all this schmaltz, aren't I? Today is just an exquisite day in the Texas hill country. Have a GREAT day wherever you all are and spend all day today thinking about your own lists...write them down!
Love,
KK
*****************************************************
I think it's a great way to be grateful. Spring is for new beginnings, fresh starts and animals screwing each other in the yard.
I love the smell of Wysteria, the garlic that wafts down 6th Street and the top of my cat's head.
I love the taste of Stubb's Bar-B-Q, Fino's basil Mojitos and man-skin.
I love the sound of Garth Brooks, wind chimes in the trees and cat's feet running through the house. The last one sounds like fairies are scampering about just out of sight.
I love to look at pretty, young men and The Ancient One when she's asleep. Looking at KK in our videos makes me laugh every time.
I love to touch roses, stone sculptures, birds and elephant skin. The world is so full of so many amazing things to experience; food, art and crispy oysters at Jeffry's - nighttime laughter, KK's grilled cheese sandwiches and skinny-dipping at Hippie Hollow. (I haven't done that in about 30 years)
My favorite thing of all though is to make people laugh. It's good for you. You live longer the more you laugh. You are healthier and you don't have time to honk at people when you're laughing. It feels good to do it, hear it and participate in it. It's like a strong drug that is free, over-the-counter and multiplies as you pass it around.
So today I'm going to be grateful for everything I see and think of weird ways to make people laugh. Don't tell KK or she will get worried. I can just hear her now, "SalGaaaal...what are you theenkeeeng...?'
Shhh...
SalGal
Friday, March 21, 2008
Childhood Lessons
We start out with dysfunction from an early age, don't we? I've been thinking about how many childhood tactics I used to use and how many are still valid and useful at this age...Hmmmmmm.
I've mastered the art of 'the dirty look'...you know, that look that you give the schoolyard bully... before you run away. Now I give it to The Ancient One whenever she really pisses me off and then I storm out of the room. She knows my look cuz I learned it from HER for pity's sake! It's just one tool in my arsenal of overreactions caused by middle age!
I'm not above using 'the tantrum' when presented with a yung'un service person who acts like they were just tossed off the turnip truck. It starts wit
h the dirty look, then morphs into the, "Just how long HAVE you been a waitress, DEAR!?" These tantrums can only be verbalized at the END of an unsatisfactory restaurant situation because they'll damn sure spit on your food after they've picked it up off the floor and put it back on your plate in the kitchen (I was a waitress once!).
I never mastered the 'share' lesson as a child. I've always mistrusted that instinct and I know why now. When Sal and I were wee ones, our mother and a few other mothers in the neighborhood sat all their wee ones on the floor in a circle and passed around soda crackers and one cup of KoolAid. We were thrilled to death and practiced 'the share' between us. What we didn't know was that those bitch mothers of ours were doing it because one of us had the mumps AND the measles and they thought it would be better if we all got sick at the same time so that it would run its course through our group in a timely manner, thus not inconveniencing our bitch mothers any more than was necessary. You can probably tell that it WORKED or I wouldn't be so bitterly retelling the tale!
I was also waaaaaaaaaay too competitive as a child to get the 'plays well with others' lesson either. I wanted to kick their asses, and I have no idea where that came from, as The Ancient One, who was The Stunning One back then couldn't have cared less about competition of any kind...wait...I take that back...she won all the handsome young men and kicked ass in that competition! Consequently, I am NOT a team player, a cheerleader or a club joiner. I AM a damn good friend though.
Inside/Outside voices...what in the HELL is that? When you wanted to carry on a conversation out in west Texas if the wind was blowing, you used your inside/outside/down-the-road/hollerin' voice or you'd never get your point across. I've had to be restrained before when I've seen a mother who has no business being one, quietly respond to a SCREAMING toddler in a public place with, "Please use your inside voice, Honey." My daddy woulda just gone out and gotten a switch from the mimosa tree in the backyard and laid it across my fanny once or twice (not too hard...just enough to scare the shit out of me). But, that was 1956. My, how times have changed.
The Ancient One is pretty happy about the way we turned out, I must say. We just don't remind her that she had practically nothing to do with that because our maid, Dorothy is the one who really raised us. Hehehe.
Thank GAWD for childhood lessons. They still serve us well,
KK
****************************************
That's so true. Seeing as how mother slept every day until 11AM, was never at home when we got home from school and was out partying almost every night - we were raised by a five-foot tall, 300-pound black woman named Dorothy. She was a great mother though, look at us.
The Stunning One taught us good stuff when we could catch her though. We have really good taste in art, decor and poker chips (they must be clay). We had the best of both worlds. Mother taught us how to fold a napkin, which professions were preferable in a husband, and how to hold in a fart when in public. Dorothy taught us how to fight back at the schoolyard, that everything tasted better cooked in bacon grease and that survival of the prettiest led to fluffy, empty heads.
When we got sick mother made us hot lemonade. It was almost worth getting sick just to have her come in and give us that wonderful, warm cup of lemons, water and sugar. It was actually pretty smart of her and what KK refers to as 'the bitch mothers' to make all the neighborhood kids sit in a circle and share the Kool-Aid when the mumps started going around. They knew that mumps in particular and measles were dangerous the older you got and they wanted us to get those diseases while really young because then you were immune to them for the rest of your life. You can die from those diseases if you are old! These days kids are so protected from germs and normal airborn parasites that they have weak little immune systems that can't fight off the germs in a ladybug's sneeze. We, on the other hand, can get pneumonia and walk around telling everybody we have a temporary cough. And it's true.
So what have I learned from all of this? Three things stick out. Don't be afraid to let your kids roll around in the dirt...trust in the wisdom of old black women - and trust in Allah but tie up your camel.
Happy Easter,
SalGal
I've mastered the art of 'the dirty look'...you know, that look that you give the schoolyard bully... before you run away. Now I give it to The Ancient One whenever she really pisses me off and then I storm out of the room. She knows my look cuz I learned it from HER for pity's sake! It's just one tool in my arsenal of overreactions caused by middle age!
I'm not above using 'the tantrum' when presented with a yung'un service person who acts like they were just tossed off the turnip truck. It starts wit
h the dirty look, then morphs into the, "Just how long HAVE you been a waitress, DEAR!?" These tantrums can only be verbalized at the END of an unsatisfactory restaurant situation because they'll damn sure spit on your food after they've picked it up off the floor and put it back on your plate in the kitchen (I was a waitress once!).
I never mastered the 'share' lesson as a child. I've always mistrusted that instinct and I know why now. When Sal and I were wee ones, our mother and a few other mothers in the neighborhood sat all their wee ones on the floor in a circle and passed around soda crackers and one cup of KoolAid. We were thrilled to death and practiced 'the share' between us. What we didn't know was that those bitch mothers of ours were doing it because one of us had the mumps AND the measles and they thought it would be better if we all got sick at the same time so that it would run its course through our group in a timely manner, thus not inconveniencing our bitch mothers any more than was necessary. You can probably tell that it WORKED or I wouldn't be so bitterly retelling the tale!
I was also waaaaaaaaaay too competitive as a child to get the 'plays well with others' lesson either. I wanted to kick their asses, and I have no idea where that came from, as The Ancient One, who was The Stunning One back then couldn't have cared less about competition of any kind...wait...I take that back...she won all the handsome young men and kicked ass in that competition! Consequently, I am NOT a team player, a cheerleader or a club joiner. I AM a damn good friend though.
Inside/Outside voices...what in the HELL is that? When you wanted to carry on a conversation out in west Texas if the wind was blowing, you used your inside/outside/down-the-road/hollerin' voice or you'd never get your point across. I've had to be restrained before when I've seen a mother who has no business being one, quietly respond to a SCREAMING toddler in a public place with, "Please use your inside voice, Honey." My daddy woulda just gone out and gotten a switch from the mimosa tree in the backyard and laid it across my fanny once or twice (not too hard...just enough to scare the shit out of me). But, that was 1956. My, how times have changed.
The Ancient One is pretty happy about the way we turned out, I must say. We just don't remind her that she had practically nothing to do with that because our maid, Dorothy is the one who really raised us. Hehehe.
Thank GAWD for childhood lessons. They still serve us well,
KK
****************************************
That's so true. Seeing as how mother slept every day until 11AM, was never at home when we got home from school and was out partying almost every night - we were raised by a five-foot tall, 300-pound black woman named Dorothy. She was a great mother though, look at us.
The Stunning One taught us good stuff when we could catch her though. We have really good taste in art, decor and poker chips (they must be clay). We had the best of both worlds. Mother taught us how to fold a napkin, which professions were preferable in a husband, and how to hold in a fart when in public. Dorothy taught us how to fight back at the schoolyard, that everything tasted better cooked in bacon grease and that survival of the prettiest led to fluffy, empty heads.
When we got sick mother made us hot lemonade. It was almost worth getting sick just to have her come in and give us that wonderful, warm cup of lemons, water and sugar. It was actually pretty smart of her and what KK refers to as 'the bitch mothers' to make all the neighborhood kids sit in a circle and share the Kool-Aid when the mumps started going around. They knew that mumps in particular and measles were dangerous the older you got and they wanted us to get those diseases while really young because then you were immune to them for the rest of your life. You can die from those diseases if you are old! These days kids are so protected from germs and normal airborn parasites that they have weak little immune systems that can't fight off the germs in a ladybug's sneeze. We, on the other hand, can get pneumonia and walk around telling everybody we have a temporary cough. And it's true.
So what have I learned from all of this? Three things stick out. Don't be afraid to let your kids roll around in the dirt...trust in the wisdom of old black women - and trust in Allah but tie up your camel.
Happy Easter,
SalGal
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