My cat was just entertaining himself by playing with some kind of flying ant that was crawling on my living room rug. I was keeping an eye on him as I logged into blogger in order to monitor the situation and kill said bug should Dexter decide the bug wouldn't be tasty or lose interest. He kept looking at me but I couldn't read his expression. Was he looking for approval? Encouragement? Kudos? Hard to say, whatever it was, he seemed to pick the bug up in his mouth a few times, bat it around a couple times, then all excitement ended and he walked to the other side of the room and is now bathing himself. I lost track of the bug and have decided, for the sake of my own sanity and limiting of creepy-outyness, that he ate the bug and it is no longer crawling on my floor or burrowing its way into anything I own in order to lay larvae that will soon become a swarm of flying ant-like creatures inside my home. Yeah, its being digested as I write this. Definitely.
I don't really get the whole eating a bug thing. Even for a cat. My cat has a very discerning pallet. He will only eat cat food. No tuna, no cheese, no milk, no fish...just cat food. But, he'll eat an insect. He turns his nose up at dairy but he sees a creepy crawly creature that very well may bite, sting, flit about in an alarming way, or all of the above,and he thinks, "Mmmm...that may be very enjoyable in my mouth".
As I've mentioned before, I'm not a cat person. I like dogs. Dogs make sense to me. Well, mostly. I don't really get the eating poop and your own vomit thing, or the drinking hot muddy puddle water instead of the fresh water in your clean bowl thing, but mostly I understand dogs. They're companionable. They answer commands, they can tell a good person from a bad pretty quickly, they eat the food you drop on the floor without missing a beat, they wag their tails when happy. And they have mastered the art of doe eyes in order to convey; "if you don't give me that thing that I want I might be so upset that I'll run out the door and get hit by a car and you'll be haunted by my memory for the rest of your life."
I've never had a dog that ate a bug. And even though they eat poop and puke, I have to give them a certain amount of respect for choosing to leave the creepy crawlies out of the realm of nutrition.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Mute Monday: Things/Places I Want to Exerience in My Life
Incan Ruins
Chianti Vineyards
Nepal
Mardi Gras
A Sunflower Field
A Poppy field
Sunday, June 22, 2008
C is for Cookie
To know me is to understand that I have an almost insatiable sweet tooth. As my husband has stated, "Slim never met a piece of chocolate she didn't like" and "I can't believe Slim doesn't weigh 300 pounds". It's understandable that he would state these sentiments aloud because the temptation to eat large amounts of sugary foods is indeed my biggest weakness. You can keep your salty chips, or your dollops of sour cream, your tabs of butter, I'm not really tempted by those things, but set a cinnamon role in front of me and the vacuum action begins, will power doesn't even enter the equation.
My husband is not immune to the desire for sugary substances, he just has a little more will power than me on most occasions. On his last grocery shopping trip he picked up a half gallon of chocolate ice cream and pre-made peanut butter cookie dough. This wouldn't be the first time he has made himself cookies in order to dip them into ice cream for an after dinner dessert. And he knows that these types of treats are likely to disappear a lot faster if I am privy to their existence. When I got home from work the other night, 2x4 was still awake, which was a special treat because he's usually asleep by the time I get home. The apartment smelled really good so I asked him what he had made for dinner, assuming that was the source of the aroma.
"Burger" He replied
"That's all?" I asked "Because it smells really good in here, and burgers don't do that."
"Yup" He answered with a sort of grin on his face. I thought about it for a minute.
"You made the cookies!"
"They're mine! Don't eat them!" He asserted. I kissed him goodnight, told him I was going to make myself dinner, and left the bedroom.
"Don't eat the cookies!" He shouted as I closed the bedroom door.
I proceeded to make myself some pasta, sit down and watch an episode of Lost on abc.com and for dessert had one cookie. ONE. This in and of itself is a showing of will power in its grandest proportions because who, really, can eat one cookie?
It was about an hour an a half later that I crawled into bed beside a slumbering 2x4. He has always had the enviable ability to conk out seconds after his head comes into contact with the pillow. So, by the time I came to bed he had undoubtedly been sleeping for a while. I cuddled up next to him, listened to his slow breathing and whispered that I loved him.
Then, a groggy, sleepy voice asked, "How many cookies did you eat?"
My husband is not immune to the desire for sugary substances, he just has a little more will power than me on most occasions. On his last grocery shopping trip he picked up a half gallon of chocolate ice cream and pre-made peanut butter cookie dough. This wouldn't be the first time he has made himself cookies in order to dip them into ice cream for an after dinner dessert. And he knows that these types of treats are likely to disappear a lot faster if I am privy to their existence. When I got home from work the other night, 2x4 was still awake, which was a special treat because he's usually asleep by the time I get home. The apartment smelled really good so I asked him what he had made for dinner, assuming that was the source of the aroma.
"Burger" He replied
"That's all?" I asked "Because it smells really good in here, and burgers don't do that."
"Yup" He answered with a sort of grin on his face. I thought about it for a minute.
"You made the cookies!"
"They're mine! Don't eat them!" He asserted. I kissed him goodnight, told him I was going to make myself dinner, and left the bedroom.
"Don't eat the cookies!" He shouted as I closed the bedroom door.
I proceeded to make myself some pasta, sit down and watch an episode of Lost on abc.com and for dessert had one cookie. ONE. This in and of itself is a showing of will power in its grandest proportions because who, really, can eat one cookie?
It was about an hour an a half later that I crawled into bed beside a slumbering 2x4. He has always had the enviable ability to conk out seconds after his head comes into contact with the pillow. So, by the time I came to bed he had undoubtedly been sleeping for a while. I cuddled up next to him, listened to his slow breathing and whispered that I loved him.
Then, a groggy, sleepy voice asked, "How many cookies did you eat?"
Thursday, June 05, 2008
That Last Post Was a SERIOUS Downer...
...so I'm going to tell a couple of my infamous foot in mouth stories in order to bring back positive vibes.
Story 1:
My mom and I were shopping in the mall and had to stop for a bathroom break. We went into one of the department store restrooms that only had three stalls, all of which were empty, and the foul stench of someone having recently emptied their colon. I went on a miniature rant to my mom about the importance of the courtesy flush. I asked her, "Why do people not get the concept of a courtesy flush? Seriously, everybody poops, I get that, but we don't all want to smell it! So, flush a couple times, it's not a complicated concept!"
Mom looked at me with this weird amused smile. But the amusement seemed to transcend what I had said somehow. It was as though she had some knowledge which I was lacking. And she was particularly quiet, which is not typical of my mother in any way. So, mom went into the stall on one end and I went into the stall on the other end, leaving the third, middle stall unoccupied.
Except there were feet there.
In the empty stall.
Crap.
I just embarrassed someone and totally didn't mean to. I thought she was GONE. I swear that stall was EMPTY.
I exited the stall at the same time as my mother. We washed our hands quietly as my mother was silently hysterically laughing at the bug eyed look on my face. We left the bathroom and I shouted, "I didn't know she was still IN THERE!"
"I know" said my mother, who, as it turns out, knows when to keep her mouth shut. Unlike her daughter.
Story 2:
My mother has just finished redecorating her living room and dining room. New paint, new furniture, it looks really nice. I saw the new dining room set the other day and it's a HUGE improvement over the circa 1970s hand-me-down hideous set that she's been living with for the last 20 years. I complimented her on how beautiful the room looks but couldn't just give her a blanket compliment, nooooo. Had to go the extra mile to insult someone unintentionally town.
"Wow, it looks great mom. This dining set is really nice, it changes the whole space. All you have to do is replace those blinds and it will be all set."
Mom's response: "Those blinds are new"
Luckily my mother has a good sense of humor and found my faux pas amusing.
Story 1:
My mom and I were shopping in the mall and had to stop for a bathroom break. We went into one of the department store restrooms that only had three stalls, all of which were empty, and the foul stench of someone having recently emptied their colon. I went on a miniature rant to my mom about the importance of the courtesy flush. I asked her, "Why do people not get the concept of a courtesy flush? Seriously, everybody poops, I get that, but we don't all want to smell it! So, flush a couple times, it's not a complicated concept!"
Mom looked at me with this weird amused smile. But the amusement seemed to transcend what I had said somehow. It was as though she had some knowledge which I was lacking. And she was particularly quiet, which is not typical of my mother in any way. So, mom went into the stall on one end and I went into the stall on the other end, leaving the third, middle stall unoccupied.
Except there were feet there.
In the empty stall.
Crap.
I just embarrassed someone and totally didn't mean to. I thought she was GONE. I swear that stall was EMPTY.
I exited the stall at the same time as my mother. We washed our hands quietly as my mother was silently hysterically laughing at the bug eyed look on my face. We left the bathroom and I shouted, "I didn't know she was still IN THERE!"
"I know" said my mother, who, as it turns out, knows when to keep her mouth shut. Unlike her daughter.
Story 2:
My mother has just finished redecorating her living room and dining room. New paint, new furniture, it looks really nice. I saw the new dining room set the other day and it's a HUGE improvement over the circa 1970s hand-me-down hideous set that she's been living with for the last 20 years. I complimented her on how beautiful the room looks but couldn't just give her a blanket compliment, nooooo. Had to go the extra mile to insult someone unintentionally town.
"Wow, it looks great mom. This dining set is really nice, it changes the whole space. All you have to do is replace those blinds and it will be all set."
Mom's response: "Those blinds are new"
Luckily my mother has a good sense of humor and found my faux pas amusing.
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