Lightning Strikes Out

Tonight was the second game of my "illustrious" baseball career, except the gods had a different plan. With the heavy humidity and heat the area was prime for a mother of a thunderstorm, on the anniversary of the big tornado that roared through Barrie 25 years ago. It is a little intimidating standing out in an open field with a large metal bat in your hands, in the air, like a lightning rod, no less. I was posted to cover first base (they seem to think that is a good place for me) and stood shaking in my cleats watching the black horizon close in on us. Rain doesn't normally bother me, but I did have my new glove on my hand and I really didn't want to get it wet. We made it through one inning (got one out and hit the ball) but then the lightning started coming fast and furious. The umpire makes the call to quit the game. The words were barely out of his mouth and 20 women ran squealing as if the red light special at K-mart had just been announced. We will meet up with this same team again on Friday night for a re-match, thank god, we were losing so maybe we will be able to redeem ourselves.
Till next time, guarding first
Cat x

Sometimes

This is a very short post. Let's just say that sometimes husbands and wives should not try to fix things together. Things like, oh, um, the handle on the back of your van (meaning the wife's) especially when the husband has just come home from a nice relaxing fishing trip with his buddies and the wife has had to look after hyper kid all weekend. Then throw in the fact the van is a little rusty in certain spots, namely where the washer and nut need to go, and all of this maneuvering through a tiny little hole. Then out comes the magnetic thing to find this washer that has been dropped several times into the dark abyss of the interior of the van back hatch. It seems the only way to find the washer is to use just about every expletive known to man and woman kind, most of this coming from me. When that fails, you need to get the big round cutter outer thing and make said tiny hole a whole lot bigger. In the end we got the damn thing fixed and ended on a kind note. Thanks Ruffel for all your help. Really.
Magnetically yours till next time,
Cat x

Nellie

A little poem that I wrote a while ago... some weekends are just meant for lazy times on the deck...

She sits watching the firefly's in their nightly dance,

Listening closely for the sounds of intrusion,

She waits tensely for her chance-

seeing only fleetingly that it is nothing more than an illusion.

With her head held high,

Avoiding the looks of indignation,

She sits on eminence,

Waiting for praises of exultation-

For they will come, surely they will

It's only a matter of time for her very first kill.

Then in the half moon light

She sees her prey,

Stalking... stalking quietly, so as not

to alarm into exodus flight

She leaps into action, teeth bared and ready

to fill her belly.

For such is the desire of a Jack Russel named Nellie.

Batter Up and Batter Out

I have been so nervous about playing baseball. I bought a nice purple glove for catching the ball, a nice pair of gloves (white and pink) for when I go up to bat. I bought the nice Nike cleats (Pete said, "get cleats, cause if you slide and pull a groin muscle, you won't be happy") that have a spot to slide in my team colour (gold ya know!) I had the nice black and pink Mizuno bag from a long time ago (just loved the colours so bought it) to put all my gear in. Put the lip gloss and spare socks in too, along with my Crystal Light, gotta stay hydrated, fine balance between staying hydrated and over drinking to the point of having to go pee every five minutes. Don't you just hate those little blue houses? So I am sitting there in the dugout, no one really talking to me, just checking things out. One player brought a whole bucket of Double Bubble, I was glad to see that, it meant that I was not the only one with the jitters. The first inning I was sitting out, which was fine by me, gave me a chance to see how things go. Second inning I was put on first base. What the hell were they thinking? First base has a lot of responsibility to it, I mean that ball comes at you and you have to try to get that runner out. The pressure was on. Batter up... strike one... ball one... strike! This time the bat and ball made contact, that ball was flying along the ground coming straight at me. Holy shit, I have to get that ball. I bent over to scoop up the ball on the run, but it was going so hard and fast that it flew up my leg over my glove and nailed me in the throat. Ouch, no time for the pain, fumbled with the ball and got a hold of it, at the same time I stumbled and fell to the ground (there go my clean pants) I scrambled on the ground, half crawling, half sliding to touch that base.... I managed in the nick of time to flail myself over the base and say "OUT!" The crowd went wild, I mean holy crap, I couldn't believe that I had actually made the save and got the batter out! People were high fiving me, asking me if I was OK, WOW, I love this game. I did manage to hit the ball once when it was my turn. I only made it to first base, but that is OK, at least I "touched the green" (means you hit the green ball) and saved face. I play again on Monday night, can't wait, but I think I'm going to wear bigger underwear. Wearing a thong in marshland is rather painful, the mosquitoes were having a great time with my butt!
Till next time... looking for a neck guard,
Cat x

The Nose Knows

A funny thing happened on the way to the post office today. I noticed my friend D was out walking with her dog, Molly and Findley, the dog she day cares for. I stopped to chat with her, people were passing by, cars and trucks were going up and down the road. The whole time we are chatting the dogs are just standing there, not really paying any attention to anything in particular. Findley, then raises his nose in the air and starts to just go crazy, barking and jumping around, it was all D could do to hang on to him. I didn't notice anything different going on, so looked in the direction of his barking and jumping. The only thing different was a mini dump truck coming down the road. I thought, jeez, this dog doesn't like trucks, and yet any other one that had gone by, he really hadn't paid much attention to. The truck stopped at the stop sign, took a quick gander to the right and the left and then roared away, the whole time Findley was still going crazy. I said to D that I had better let her go before the dog ripped her arm off. It was then that I noticed a most peculiar smell, a smell that I know. D noticed it too and said "Oh, my god, what it that awful smell?" I just happened to catch the name on the side of the truck... Atwood... yep, the dead truck. I yelled out to her that the smell was coming from the truck, that it was a dead truck. D said" what dead... people?" I laughed and said "No, animals" That totally explained why the dog was going crazy and barking... Atwood takes the dead animals and turns them into pet food... Findley smelt his dinner coming from a few blocks away. While this might turn the stomach of some, the idea of dead animals and all, then I present to you the philosophy of Ruffel "you got livestock, you got dead stock". Everything serves a purpose, whether in life or death. My thoughts go out to the people who work in that particular field (dead truck driver) on these extremely hot days, the smell was nauseating to say the least, and we were at least 30 feet away from truck and only fleetingly. To be a driver of that truck in this heat... well, lets just say that the speed limit would never be high enough to get away from not only the smell but the sound of barking, howling dogs. Till next time, flipping burgers for you...
Cat x

Knowledge is Power

I have tried to instill in my sons that the more you know the better off you will be. I learned this first hand from my parents. My father was especially keen for me to study, study and then study some more. Some things I loved to study, like history and anything scientific. Language is also something that has a certain amount of power to it. I was recently in Ottawa ( although to be expected, as it is a government town, and Quebec is right next door) and was impressed with the amount of young people who could and would switch from English to French with such ease. I took French in high school... grade nine French, three years in a row (I hated my French teacher, see there's that old rule of how a good teacher can make such a difference) yet when I took French at the local college I did quite well (much better teacher!). When I was in Paris you would almost think that I was a local with my accent (in my mind anyway). I also have the influence of Swedish in my language repertoire as well. My mother was a Swede and when I was younger we would move back and forth from Sweden to England. I would arrive in England unable to speak any English, we would stay in England for a few months so I would learn lots of English, then when my father went back out to sea for maneuvers, my mother and I would return to Stockholm. Unfortunately, I had left my Swedish at the English border and would have to spend the next couple of months relearning all of my Swedish vocabulary. With all this muddle going on in my brain I had no problem at all learning the most important language of all, Pig Latin. I could ream off sentences faster than you could say "Whathagat dutha hethagel". I was always baffled at how I could learn to divide the words and insert the proper bits, and yet could not remember if it was "blanc chat" or "blanche chatte?" or whatever it is in French, then again French is almost all grammar. Grammar is one of the most difficult things to learn. I have taken grammar at the college level and managed to pass, but don't ask me what a dangling participle or an adjective is 'cause I don't remember. All I know is that ya' all need to talk right to get your message across. So really is all this knowledge and language and grammar stuff really necessary? Hmm, that is a matter of personal opinion, just like putting perfume on a pig, it's all up to you.
Till next time, working my way through the Britannia series...
Cat x

Surprises

This might start to sound like a broken record, but life really is full of surprises. I planned to go to the Colonel By reunion when I saw certain names on the guest list, people that I remembered and was happy to be able to see again. One name in particular was my History teacher, Mr. Caldwell. Mr. Caldwell must have been quite a young man when he was my teacher as he doesn't look a day over, well, a day over old, let's put it that way. He was the sort of teacher who seemed like he enjoyed what he was doing and more importantly, knew what he was talking about. I am sure you remember some teachers who just read from the "Acme Guide of Teaching Material" and never deviate from the assigned protocol of boring information the educational system felt we needed to know. Mr. Caldwell would always put a little spin into things and make the curriculum just a little more interesting so that you could actually remember things for the upcoming tests and exams. If you think back to your school days, whether they be public or high school I am sure that there are names of teachers that will always stick out in your mind. Mr. Caldwell is one of mine, he instilled a love of History in me that continues to this day. Mr. Sorenson from Henry Munroe Public School is another. He also had the patience and kindheartedness that made a difference in someones life, teachers can have a huge influence in a child's life. I hope that Mr. Caldwell understood that I was trying, in my own bumbling way, to say "thank you". So, while I knew that my teacher was going to be at the reunion , I also had the pleasant surprise of meeting fellow students for what seemed the first time. I had probably spoken to some of them 30 odd years ago, but never enough to have their names etched in my memory, after having spoken to them all these years later, I look back at the yearbook photos with a different perspective. As one of the fellows pointed out, "there was a whole other world of people in high school that I never met or even saw, so wrapped up was I in the tech club". We always seem to be drawn to what makes us feel more comfortable or secure, but we have to remember that life is constantly throwing you gems... so make sure that you have your magnifiers on and not your blinders... you just might get a surprise or two.

Till next time... flipping the pages of history...

Cat x

Survival

The old homestead above.

Well, I survived the reunion. The round trip of 1166.1 km's was worth it. Talk about a therapy session. Walking through the front door of the old high school was liberating. My heart was pounding there was a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat. Thank god I had two friends (no three) to help me through the process. Cindy and Sylvie were amazing. Funny how when you are younger the world seems so big, and yet going back to that school I realized how small (and dumpy) it really is. When we are born we are a pebble being dropped into a puddle of water, the rings of life start close to the dropping point. As we progress through life the rings move further and further away from that point. I moved far away from Colonel By and Beacon Hill, I have lived life fully and experienced much. But as I walked the halls talking with past school mates I felt sad. Sad that I hadn't formed really strong friendships with the people who were present in that pinnacle time in my life. I faced a lot of demons and came out the other side. I even have the dubious distinction of not being in a single yearbook, I looked through them all, every page, thinking that I might catch a glimpse of the person that I was all those years ago. Nothing. Nada. No candid snapshots of me just being in the library, or on a team, nothing. Not even carnival days. So why not? I thought about this on my home listening to all the Stones songs on my ipod (told ya Jackie!) shed a tear or two, even had to turn down the tune "Wild Horses", and came to my aha moment. My home life was less than stellar. In fact it was total shit. I couldn't wait to escape the confines of the prison known as 1959 Oakdean Cres. My parents were so strict there was absolutely no fun in my teenage years. So I did not want a visual reminder of those days. Even in my private collection of family pics, there are less than two of me. After grade ten I got a job at the Treble Clef record store. I needed to get out of the hood that had so much anger and sadness in it. Not to mention the creep who used to stand in his front window (of a house I had to walk by every day to get to and from school) and "pump" his "organ" if you know what I mean. It was scary. Even more so was that I used to babysit for this family the odd time. I couldn't tell my parents about it, I mean how could you? I was only fifteen years old and you just didn't talk about stuff like that. The man disappeared for a while, don't know if someone reported him or if he got help on his own, just that he was gone and after he came back the curtains were always closed. Friday nights and Saturdays were my days of freedom. Working at the Saint Laurent shopping center or even down on Sparks street at the record store. I learned so much about music and even more about people. I learned to listen and watch and really see what was going on out there. I was glad to find that I was not the only one who found life difficult at times, there were lots of us out there, some with really big problems. Back at school I just found it easier to stay away from the crowds and keep quiet. The last two years of high school flew by. Grad, never went, don't think I was invited. Am I sorry? No, I am glad for path that I have taken. "No regrets" as my father said on his death bed. Going back to Ottawa and Beacon Hill in particular tied up many loose ends for me and gave me a sense of peace. I can look through the year book and talk to all the new/old friends on Face Book and know that I am OK, that I have gained much more than just an education from being at Colonel By High. Reunion, how about revelation?

Chilling till next time, Cheers to Cindy, Sylvie, Tara and all the rest of my ex-cohorts!

Cat x

Reunion Season

I have written a little column for the local paper about my upcoming reunion (high school) I hope you enjoy it. Depending on how my reunion goes I may not be able to blog for the weekend. I am leaving for Ottawa on Friday morning and will not be back till late Sunday... let's hope lots of neat stuff happens so I will have lots to write about. Till then here is my column.

There is a misconception that there are only two seasons in Canada, winter and the season of construction. I however, feel that we need to add another- the season of reunions. Coming from a small family with no need for the phenomenon known as the family reunion (I mean gawd, I just saw you seven years ago... what’s the rush?) I find myself drawn to the idea of attending my high school reunion. I mean why would anyone want to go to a high school reunion? This is the very question I asked myself as I filled in the registration form... for my high school reunion. High school for me was very painful. It is for most of us. The time of growing up, just like the Alice Cooper song, “Eighteen” in the middle of childhood and adulthood and not sure of which hood you prefer. Many of my high school mates I have found on the official reunion site known as FaceBook. But photos can lie and meeting the person again in the flesh will be different and revealing. The first night of the reunion is in a pub in the Byward Market area of Ottawa. Always a better idea to relive a nightmare while under the influence of alcohol. People always seem smarter and better looking that way. The second evening is a dinner and dance affair in the hallowed halls of Colonel By High School. They are even going to give us a memento of the evening, but I am sure that being that wallflower, yet again, will be memento enough for me. Here are a few sayings to help you get through the reunion season.

Families are like fudge - mostly sweet with a few nuts. ~Author Unknown
If you don't believe in ghosts, you've never been to a family reunion. ~Ashleigh Brilliant
People seem to get nostalgic about a lot of things they weren't so crazy about the first time around. ~Author Unknown
It's never safe to be nostalgic about something until you're absolutely certain there's no chance of its coming back. ~Bill Vaughn
Nostalgia is a file that removes the rough edges from the good old days. ~Doug Larson
Things ain't what they used to be and probably never was. ~Will Rogers

Nostalgia is a seductive liar. ~George Wildman Ball

There are lots of people who mistake their imagination for their memory. ~Josh Billings
Bring the past only if you are going to build from it. ~Doménico Cieri Estrada
What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now. ~Author Unknown

Tacky kitsch

Have you ever been given a gift that is too tacky for words? Something that you just go, "Oh My GOD!" what am I going to do with this? Of course you have, we all have. We might even have been the one to do the giving. After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, even if they might be blind. Such is the occasion today when a dear person brought probably one of the most ... well... words cannot even begin to explain. The thought was genuine and appreciated. So what do you do when you get something like this? I tried to put it into the recycle box but had to retrieve it when I realized that it is made out of a compound that is not native to this part of the world. So I don't think it is recyclable. I will have to find a "special" place for it and keep it safe for the gift giver to see when they come to visit (which is almost daily!) What I would like to know though is who thinks up these tacky bits of kitsch? Is there a plethora of art school dropouts/failures that set up their own shop and make a fortune out of designing things so ugly that they sell like hot cakes? I mean when you go into some of these "kitsch" shops you are bowled over by the crap that they try to sell, even more knocked off your perch by the amount they actually do sell! Even in Paris there are hundreds of wee hole in the wall vendors selling pink sparkly versions of the Eiffel Tower (don't worry, I passed it by) or velvet impressions of the Mona Lisa (OK, that one I had to get for the neighbour who watered my plants and took out the garbage). Really the selection is sublime. I guess it all appeals to the old school of thought of "I really should get a little something for the neighbour who waters my plants and took my garbage out for me while I was away on this wonderful holiday, but I don't really want to spend more than $1.89 on them", oh look, a velvet picture of the Mona Lisa, even better, buy one get one half price, yippee! There now I can give one to someone else who I don't really want to spend any money on getting them something, to show them how much I appreciate them. Ah, we have all done it. It is human nature. That is why there will always be this plastic crap available... because it sells.
Planning my next holiday... and what to bring back for you...
till next time,
Cat x

Why do they do it?

Dogs have the best life... well at least I think they do. My three dogs live on a farm where there are all sorts of things for them to do. There is a constant barrage of visitors for them to bark at and sniff. This is a working beef farm so they eat exceptionally well. They have beds and fresh water, even a pool they can go swimming in. SO, why do they take off the first chance they get? The big black one, Sisi and the littlest jack russel take off for hours at a time. They come home, always. They are usually sporting new wounds thanks to the battles they have with raccoons and other wild life out "there". The little jack, Lizzie, is one tough little dog. She backs down at nothing, she is fearless. The other jack, Nellie, aka pork chop, is a little more timid and doesn't tend to take off for too long. First, she was attacked by something much bigger than her, (by evidence of the jaw mark that went across her body) and the fact that she is of short legs and has a pudgy body (why the alias) she gets tired too fast and usually goes to the first house that she comes across and asks to use their phone. I know this 'cause the house usually calls and says that she is there and ready to go home. Handy that her phone number and name are on her tags. I knew that label maker would come in handy for something... labeling the dog. So what do you do when the dogs take off? Nothing. There is no sense in beating them, that solves nothing. All I do is put them in the garage (it's heated and has comfy bedding for them) and let them rest. They have put quite a few miles on and are very slow moving for the next few days. Sisi just lays in her bed... sort of reminds me of me after going crazy with the chain saw and gardening shovel... I guess you just gotta do what you gotta do... dogs run, people cut wood and weed the gardens.
Till next time... dogging for ya,
Cat x

Peaceful Sunday

Ah Sunday, so peaceful and serene. The birds are singing and in the distance I can hear the sound of the church bells... that is till I fire up my Stihl chainsaw. Ruffel cracked the whip over my head today and asked (strongly) if I would go across the road and trim branches off the trees that he had felled. Well, what is a girl to do but say "OK" after all I do have my own chainsaw, and well, since the incident with his (set it on fire, although it was his fault for leaving it so close to the wood stove)I felt that I really should go out and help. After a couple of hours of slugging the Stihl and 40 foot trees I was reved to say the least. There is something in that theory of "the more you do the more you want to do" so I carried on and cut the grass, then I weed whacked,then I did weeding,then I did edging. Phew, I am beat. But I feel great, all of this outside work, plus I did 4 loads of laundry and changed the bed (all that nipple cream ya know). So I have plans for tomorrow evening, more edges to trim and weeds to whack. Nothing like a good whacking to do you in...
Till next time, green with energy..
Cat x

Pass the chap stick

I take a sleeping pill to go to sleep at night. I have taken one for quite a while now to break my bad habit of staying up wayyyyyy toooo lattteeee. I would literally sit up most of the night, why, I have no idea. I just wasn't tired. So enter the sleeping pill. My doctor prescribed it and I love it. It works so fast! I take it and I have about 9 minutes to get to bed. If I stay up (or try to) I get all dizzy and don't really know what I am doing. It's kinda like being on a trip, but, you are not aware that you are tripping. I have taken it and then 10 minutes later realized that I have to put the dogs to bed (they sleep in the garage) so, out the front door I go, a little tipsy and wobbly on my feet. I put the dogs to bed and then realize that I forgot to do something on the computer (not really, but now I am tripping). Next thing I know I am on FaceBook making all kinds of new friends... people that I really don't know well enough to be friends with... and not even realize that I am doing it. Really tripping now. Well, last night I took the pill and went to bed and started to chat with Ruffel. I think I tried to give him a kiss good night (really tripping) and said to him that his lips were rough and that he needed some chap stick. He then said (as I don't remember) that I fumbled around in my night stand drawer till I found something and then proceeded to rub it into his chin, which was "rough" from his stubbly beard. I then promptly fell asleep. Fast forward to this morning when I noticed that my lips tasted rather sweet. I asked Ruffel if he knew why I had lip gloss on first thing in the morning, to which he reiterated everything that I just told you. I went to my drawer and had a look at what sort of chap stick/lip gloss I would have used as it was rather tasty. Hmmmm, only thing in the drawer was my "nipple nectar" a "nipple" cream that I had bought at a recent sex party. HA!!! I never put it on my nipples (what's the point?) as it was sold to me as a lip gloss, which it is great at being... my lips have never felt so soft. As for Ruffel, how I could confuse his chin with his nipples or lips for that matter is beyond me. Then again, remember this is the girl who set his chainsaw on fire. Totally tripping in nipple land.... till next time, headlights on high beam just for you...
Cat x

Lost in the jumble of files

A sure sign that I am losing my mind. I am constantly wandering around looking for the things that I have "put" away. I put them in such a safe place, I can never find them again. It is going to be such great fun for my sons when I die... they will find all kinds of neat stuff that I have hidden away never to be found again by me... in my lifetime. For instance, I had put away a pile of receipts for the kids meds. I need them for income tax purposes and for a claim. I made copies of them all and sent them to the accountant and put the originals in a "safe" place. Well, I needed to find the originals... I looked everywhere, and I mean everywhere, to no avail. So in desperation I phoned the accountant and asked her to fax me the copies of the copies, which she did (thank god their filing system is better than mine). Then I needed a copy of my assessment on my income tax for this claim... guess what... couldn't find it. Looked everywhere and I mean everywhere. Ruffel of course can find all his stuff in a second. I tend to be a little too organized whereas he just piles all his stuff in one of two places. It is either on the desk downstairs or in the file box up here. So why can't I find my crap? Simple. One, I am trying to look after everyone elses crap so mine falls by the wayside. Two, I have too many places to file my crap, I should limit it too just one place. Three, I have to look after everyone elses crap... didn't I already say that? I guess you could say that there is a fourth reason, my brain just isn't what it used to be... in other words it is turning to crap with all the crap that I have stored in it. The good news though is that as the grey matter turns to mush I will be totally oblivious to the fact... I will be having such a fun time looking for the Easter eggs that I hid last year that it won't matter.
Thinking of you till next time... I think it's you...
Cat x

Photo shoot

Don't you just hate having your picture taken? I mean I see a picture of myself and I say "Who the hell is that?" I find it interesting the perception that we have of ourselves and how others perceive us. There must be a blind mole in the camera who is trying to capture my essence.... cause the mole is getting it all wrong. I thought I had my dad's nose, but really I think it is my grandfather's. I thought I had my aunties hair, but I think I have my Nana's. My eyes... well I have no idea who's they are, other than the obvious- mine. So why do we not see ourselves as others do? Is because they see inside us and that it is our personalities than make more of a statement than our physical appearance? So, if that is the argument then it would make sense. Your friends will always (the good friends) tell you that you look good in that pic, someone who is not so fond of you will say, "Yeah, I knew it was you, I knew your grandfather and that's his nose just as I remember it". So why the conversation about pictures? Well, today I had my pic taken for the paper, for them to use for my column. I dread seeing the picture in print AND in colour. I am used to taking my own picture, striking just the right pose in just the right light, and taking at least 25 or 30 till I get it just right. Not too much of a smile (my eyes disappear) just a bit of tilt of the jaw to hide my hideous neck (age is not kind and gravity is a bitch!). I thank the Japanese god of cameras, SONYSON, for inventing the digital camera, that delete button comes in so handy.
Kodakily yours till next time,
shutting down for now,
Cat x

Writers Block

There are many different opinions about writer's block. There is the hard nosed thought that writer's block does not exist that it is just a case of the lazies. Well, I think of myself as a writer and there are times when just nothing comes to my mind. These times are not very often, in fact most of the time it is the opposite. I simply cannot turn the mind off, so I write, a free flowing blah blah of whimsical nonsense. Sometime I tell you of the fun times (and bad times) that I have been having. Today was a day of really nothing. I went to work, came home cut the grass, made supper, and then I went to the knitters group. When I came home I had the usual battle with the kid to get him to bed. While I played a time wasting game on Pogo, Ruffel swayed between watching the Ice Road Truckers and snoring. Finally at 10 I watched Nurse Jackie while Ruffel woke up to go to bed. I was still pondering as to what I could write about and thought that I would write about writer's block as I seem to be suffering from that very condition tonight. I thought of some things that I could write about during the day... but for the life of me I can't remember any of them tonight. Maybe I am suffering from just plain being tired, too much fresh air from cutting the grass, I don't know. I apologize for the lack of inspiration that would lead me to write some titillating tale of woe or happiness or whatever. So here's to tomorrow, lets hope I find a fountain of inspiration. Maybe I should do what Ernest Hemingway used to do... find the bottle of whisky and see what sort of ideas I can find at the bottom of it.
Bottoms up till the 'morrow...
till then,
Cat x

Love is a Battlefield... or so it seems

There have been so many things written about love it isn't funny. One of the most poignant thoughts (to me) is that love is nothing but a battle, fought on the battlefield of life. Here, here is what I say. Nothing in love is ever easy. It's not easy being in love... or for that matter out of love. No sooner are you in love and the battle for control begins... as soon as you are out of love the battle to find love raises its mighty sword ready to swoop down and conquer some poor unsuspecting souls heart. Maybe that is where the saying "love at first sight" came from, or maybe the saying should be rephrased to the rightful "I don't know what hit me". So why is love so difficult? Is it because we constantly "settle" or fall for the wrong person. If you were to ask 50 married couples if they were happy, I think you would be shocked (or maybe not) at the amount who are unhappy. It seems that people get into situations that they just don't know how to handle or even realize why or how they got there. So at the end of the battle who is the victor? The one with the broken heart or the one who did the slaying? There is no right answer only the fact that there is always tomorrow and a new battle field. So to all out there, choose your weapon carefully, and if you must... take cover.
Amourially yours,
Cat x

Magic Dancing Potion

I went to the car draw dance on Saturday night. I hadn't been to this annual event for probably 10 years. What made me decide to go this year... who knows. It was freezing in the arena, mostly due to the fact that it was so cold outside (it was snowing) and no heat in the arena. I kept my coat on and actually offered to be a coat rack for someone else, anything to acquire more layers to get warm. Well, I found something that helped to generate some heat. Magic dancing potion... you might know it by its medical name of Smirnoff, or street name of vodka. BS (before surgery) I used to love vodka and diet coke, but now since carbonated drinks are forbidden (only time I drank pop was with vodka) I have had to find a new mix to ease the process of ingesting the magic dancing potion- water. Yep, sounds awful but actually it is quite good. It takes about 45 minutes for the side effects of the potion to kick in, but once it takes effect, look out. A dancing fool is born. Onto the dance floor with anyone else who is under the influence of Smirnofficide or some other dancing potion, oh, there are many different varieties. Ruffel prefers the bubbling effervescence of Lacanadiana, also know as brewskie, or in lay mans terms, poor mans champagne, OK, it's just beer, just trying to jazz it up a bit. There is another side effect to Ruffels choice of poison, er, rather potion, it is the dreading shrinking bladder syndrome. Seems the more beer you drink the smaller your bladder becomes till it is almost none existent. The beer drinkers are easy to pick out at a function. They are the ones that are constantly on the move. They move to bar, move to find a table to set their frothy potion on then move onto the bathroom, to come back to finding that all the tables look a like, and which one did they set their beer on? So back to the bar they go, only to repeat this sequence of events over and over again all night long. Sometimes you can sneak a dance in the midst of all this pissing and getting pissed only to have the dance partner high tail it to the lineup to the washroom as soon as the last note has been played. Maybe that is where the term "Pissed" comes from, because of the drinking and the way the drinker acts after having drunk a couple of dozen beers, and the fact that they run to the loo with ever increasing frequency after having drunk said beers. Well, all I can say is that after drinking a couple of my drinks I am an amazing dancer. I lead, I twirl, I dance to anything... even better I sing AMAZINGLY! huh, not really, but when you are under the influence of the potion you think you can do anything, and anything well. Trotting off to dance lessons...
till next time Cat x

Happy Mother's Day

One of the most important days of the year is coming up. The Creemore Car Draw Hockey dance... no, not really, but Mother’s Day is the day after. I feel for all the hockey mum’s who are working at the dance and even worse, working the cleanup the next day. I hope that they are all pampered in some way for all the work that they do during the hockey season and the Car Draw Dance season too. I am sure there are quite a few heavy heads being served breakfast in bed the next morning. To all the mothers out there I hope that you realize that you are appreciated and loved. It is too bad that every day isn’t Mother’s Day... but then maybe for some it is. Happy Mother’s Day to all of you... would you like fried or scrambled?

A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie. ~Tenneva Jordan
All mothers are working mothers. ~Author Unknown
A Freudian slip is when you say one thing but mean your mother. ~Author Unknown
A man's work is from sun to sun, but a mother's work is never done. ~Author Unknown
A man loves his sweetheart the most; his wife the best, but his mother the longest. ~Irish Proverb
God could not be everywhere and therefore he made mothers. ~Jewish Proverb
Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories. ~John Wilmot
Are we not like two volumes of one book? ~Marceline Desbordes-Valmore
Children are a great comfort in your old age - and they help you reach it faster, too. ~Lionel Kauffman
A suburban mother's role is to deliver children obstetrically once, and by car forever after. ~Peter De Vries
Any mother could perform the jobs of several air traffic controllers with ease. ~Lisa Alther

Yucky weekend in store

The weather here has again lived up to its deplorable reputation. Snow is forecast for tonight, tomorrow and will probably hang around till about the first of July. The only reason it will leave then is all the heat generated by the fireworks across the country. Ha, don't laugh, there have been many July 1st's that have seen us light the wood stove to take the chill off the evening air. I hate the cold, damp weather. I am going to bed, call me when the mercury hits 93 (F ). Have a f*cking nice weekend wherever you are... now where are my long johns? oh right I haven't taken them off yet.
Miserable in May snow land,
till next time,
Cat x

Word Game

I think that in one of my past lives I must have had something to do with words. Maybe I was studying Latin while serving my jail sentence (probably for stealing fish to feed the wild cats). I just love words. I love to discover new words and their meanings. So today I was checking my horrorscope on Georgia Nichols (like I do every day) when I saw in the corner a game to play. This game is to guess the meanings of words (kind of like what you see in Readers Digest) except with every word you get right you provide 10 grains of rice to some starving person in the world. Well, appealing to my love of words and my ego (surely I know what a kiddle is... right?) and my sense of wanting to help someone on the planet (not stealing fish to feed the wild cats this time) why not give it a go. So with any game the first couple are teasers. Dead easy to figure the meanings, then the game gets a little tougher. Oh yeah, like I am only going to win 4o grains of rice for a whole village in Africa! For instance do you know what emmer is? It is another word for wheat... who knew? Inimicaled? means hostile. Did you know that the calf muscle is called a soleus or how about a quenelle... just another word for poached dumpling. See, I think that expanding your vocabulary is very important. With a grand, vast vocabulary you can actually tell someone to go to hell so eloquently that they would actually look forward to the trip! So a kiddle, I will tell you what that is before you go looking it up in the dictionary, - it is a fish trap. I know! I'd never heard of it before either. So there you are, you learned some nice new words to tickle your fancy... me I'm off to Kolo... don't know what that is? I'll let you look it up in the Webster's volume of know it all.
Till next time,
alphabetically yours,
Cat x

Green feet

The official start to grass cutting season has begun. I now have green feet for the rest of the summer. Does not matter how much bleach I soak my feet in the green just does not want to come off. I have even thought of using my Black and Decker mouse sander to get the green stains off. It just doesn't look right having green feet in my pink sandals. I mean people think that I weird enough as it is... I don't need the green feet to prove it! It is an even payoff though, I would rather have the green feet than the iridescent white feet the long winter has given me. The only consolation is that against the black satin sheets you don't notice the green so much. Feeling lucky... with all the green,
till next time,
Cat x

My Sister, the runner

I give my sister, Sam, a lot of credit. She had the where-with-all to take up running. She has been training for a little while now, say about 6 months. Sam has always been a member of the gym, doing all sorts of aerobic type exercises and has kept in shape (not like me, I hate to say). She was at one time a smoker but kicked that habit a few years ago (not like me, I never smoked). So to say that I was thrilled to hear that she ran in a half marathon on Sunday is an understatement. I am one of these arm chair sports types. I don't really like watching sports on TV, as it is not the same as being there. I used to watch triathalons and biathalons and the odd hockey game, but I would have loved to have been able to stand at the finish line and cheer my sister on. It is just as much a thrill to watch the competition as it is to partake in the sport... only difference is I don't sweat or breath heavy nearly as much as the competitor, well, unless it is bull riding then my heart rate is pounding and I tend to make a lot of guttural noises. I feel the pain of the cowboy as he is thrown to the ground and pummelled, crap that has to hurt. So when my sister told me that she had joined a running group and was training extensively I thought to myself "Self, that is something that you should try". So being the type of person that I am I went and got a magazine about running to read all sides of the story and see what it would be like. Who knew that there were so many types of running shoes out there? Sadly, not a lot of them come in pink... hmmmm, maybe I should suggest that conundrum to Nike or New Balance. Then you have to have the special clothing. Let me tell you, cotton is not a friend to your skin when it comes to running. You want smooth and silky that wicks dry in a second. None of that rubbing against certain "head light" areas, no matter what sort of bra you have on. Right, you need a special jogging/running bra to give the sistas all the support they need. Socks seem to be a gray area. Some people wear them and others say "no", just go bare foot in your shoe. Even more interesting in this magazine was the thought and studies going on about running in bare feet. I guess that is how many of the greatest runners in the world have been training, not because they like to run barefoot but more because they had no shoes. I am thinking of some of the great runners that have come out of Africa. One lady that was featured in this magazine ( a cacophony of information I might add) was a Canadian, Jen Segger. Wow, what a running career she is having. One of the most gruelling races that I read about in her article was the one that she ran in 2008, the Badwater. It starts in the desert heat of Death Valley, California, a mere 217K or 135 mile race. YIKES! The race starts at 86 meters below sea level and works up to the Mount Whitney Portal at 2,550 metres. At the 50 mile mark she pulled her IT bands, they hurt so bad with every step that she had to run down the hills backwards. Yeah OK, so that I get, I have done that walking the dogs, but the biggest thing was the time... 21 hours and 53 minutes. I cannot imagine running for that length of time... just can't imagine. The feeling of exhaustion and pain must be some kinda high as that would have to be the only thing that would keep you going. My sister, she finished her run in just over 2 hours, not shabby at all for a newbie. Her biggest pain... the walkers that were in the race, complete with Nordic walking sticks. She didn't realize that she would have to jump gates (Nordic walking sticks) to get out front of the slow people. So to Sam, congratulations and I raise a tall glass of carbo-proteinated water to you. As for me, I think I might do a little running... running to the kettle to make the tea so that I can get a good spot on the couch... see one of my favorite sports to watch is coming up... the Tour De France. Oh, it has nothing to do with the sport itself it is just all the scenery. The beautiful countryside of France, all that Lycra wrapped as... well you know what I mean.
Running off to do laundry, till next time,
Cat x

Life is a Learning Curve

I went to a party last night in a part of the world that I don't spend much time in. This part of the world is on the other side of the "highway" the imaginary line between my world and "theirs". It is an odd feeling to be in a room of about 150 people and only know a mere 5 or 6. You might not think so, I mean you go to a different country or a big city and chances are you know no-one, in a case like that, that is how it is supposed to be. This party was a theme party (it was actually a buck and doe, remember fund raiser for the bride and groom) you were to come dressed in the way of either the 60's, 70's or 80's. I recognized some of the clothing and attitude examples that entered the hall (leg warmers, heavy stockings, kitten heels, crimped hair) but the best part of the night was the music. I was taken back over 20 years to my joyous days of hanging out in dark clubs with questionable patrons having a ball dancing with my friends. I rocked, back then, now I can hardly remember the "moves" but what I do remember is the feeling that the music brought back to me. Who could forget Tim Curry in "Rocky Horror Picture Show?". The small group of people I was partying with shocked me when they said that they had never seen the movie... WHAT? or even heard of Tim Curry! how could you have missed it? I remember going to the midnight showings in Victoria, you had to bring your own toast, umbrella and make sure that the black eye makeup was just smeared enough that it was supposed to look that way and not that you didn't care about just how smeared your black eye makeup was. Remember those Alice Cooper eyes? He was the coolest thing going when I was in high school. I saw a fellow last night who had lined his eyes in kohl, sort of a cross between King Tut and Bret Michaels (Poison, the band). King Tut for the eyes and the white bandanna worn low over the eyes was Michaels for sure. What was more interesting about this guy was the person who was his date. Now remember this is a dress up party. His date was wearing a dress, a short dress, with moon type boots and their hair sort of beehivey /down cross. They had a definite 5 o'clock shadow for a moustache and she/he walked like a man. But I think it was a woman, but, I am sure that she/he came out of the men's lav when we were leaving. Now, in a big city this is no big deal, but I was at the center of Butt F*ck nowhere where I am sure that it is something of a big deal. Well, they (the proverbial they) say that there is a lot of inbreeding going on one that side of the highway (like I am sure there is in the hills around here, in fact know for a fact it does) and I guess that with that sort of activity going on you are bound to end up with he/she confusion. See, this is why I tell my sister that you have to mix with all sorts of people, sometimes go out of your comfort zone (or the high earners zone) to see how the majority or minority of the world lives. I also told her that it is a wonderful way to research some interesting characters for my writing. I am happy to report that I have seen many sides of life, which provides me with a constant learning curve, after all that is what living is all about, well, unless you are a man dressed like a woman looking for the next big wow, or a woman dressed like a man and just saying wow. Now I have to go and find a copy of the Rocky Horror, I just couldn't remember all the moves to the Time Warp... now put your left in and right foot out, bring your knees in tight and do the pelvic thrust... well you get the picture.
Till next time... red corsets and fish net stockings, may they figure prominently in your dreams.
Cat x

The Kids a Shopper

I am writing this blog in the morning of the next day, rather than the evening of yesterday, which is when I usually write. The reason for this is quite simple really, I was just too frikking tired to write last night. The kid has a birthday next week, the grand old age of 10 (surprised either of us have made it this far). He needed a new bike (which he also wanted) and needed some new "cool" clothes. As soon as he got home from school we took off for the mall in Barrie. He knew that this shopping trip was all for him so he watched a movie in the van and kept very quiet for the ride there, not easy for him. We hit Sears first in the quest for jeans that fit a 9 inch waist with 48 inch legs hanging off them. Not an easy task. Even the slim fit jeans he swam in. Then we found some "pull" on jeans with an adjustable waist that were met with some moderate success. They were ok, but just not quite as cool as some of the jeans from West 49. I told the kid that he needs to eat more then he would be able to fit into some more "cooler" jeans, they just don't make "cool" jeans for toothpicks. He told me that he hates food and never wants to get fat. He will never have to worry about getting fat, anything he eats he works off in 4 minutes, he just never sits still. Anyway, we found some neat t-shirts with flying skulls and even a hoodie with a bit of bling on it ( appeals to our feminine side, well mine anyway). We even got a bike. I was pushing for the lime green with suspension and said "Hawk" on it, I think in reference to Tony Hawk, but no, he was determined to have the white bike. The white bike was 50$ less so who was I to argue. By this time my feet were killing me, my hands and arms felt like they were swollen and elongated to ogre proportions from carrying all the kids new stuff around. In the end everyone was happy, Sears, for me spending over 200$ on clothes, the sports store for the sale of a bike, the kid cause he got all that he wanted (although he did ask how much money was left for him to spend) even 2 samples of men's cologne from the nice lady at the counter (he says" she gave me those 'cause she thought that I was cute") he's gonna be a player in a few years that's for sure. I'm happy, 'cause he's happy... plus Clinique had a purchase gift special, which always makes me happy when you get something for almost nothing.
Wading in sales receipts, till next time,
Cat x