Catz with Fatz...

I haz one.

So I took the Keeton to the vet today. She was seriously behind on some shot, I forget what it is called, and of course, they had to check her poopz for parasites. Keeton decided to not make any said poopz before we left, so I have to now watch for her to take a dump, and collect it into a container, and hot foot it to the vet within a couple of hours. Hey, I got nothin' else going on. Why not transport a cat turd across town?

She got a clean bill of health right up until...dun-dun-duuuuun... the vet said the cat, at a whopping 15 pounds, was obese. Not overweight, not "full" ( as my mom likes to say...), but obese. She showed me an outline of a cat on a card. Looked just like Keeton's shadow. Then, she slid a clear sheet overtop of that with the silouette of what her body should look like. Yowza. Not even close. She tells me about all of the dangers that come along with an obese cat, one of which being that Keeton could develop diabetes. Yeah, I can see telling Dave that we have to start getting Insulin for the cat. That would really go over like a fart in church.

So, Keeton will now be on "light" food, one cup, once a day. This will likely make her super-bitchy, so be on alert if you are headed to my house any day soon. She is all girl, and when on a diet, can get pretty unreasonable. Enter with caution, and it is probably a good idea to invest in some shin guards. Just sayin'.

Crazy people and bargains

Do crazy people come out for bargains?

Or do bargains make people crazy?

Either way, there were some real nutbags at Old Navy today. In case you have been living under a rock, are male, or have gnarly toes that you keep hidden, you know that Old Navy had their one dollar flip-flop sale today. Yes, my crazy ass stood in line for an hour to get my alloted five pair...some for the boys and some for me. The line went from front to back, then wound around back to the front. Madness. The real crazy I saw today, though, was the people who brought their three and four kids with them so that they could get five pair per person. I am talking, people brought infants and toddlers and had five pair per kid. They were clearly not for the kids, by the way. They had adult sizes in their hands. They just needed extra bodies to get more pairs. And, here is the nutty part...wait for it, wait for it...

They were annoyed and screaming at the kids for being bored, whiny, and running around the store.

Really? Seriously? You expected these little kids to wait patiently in this massive line for an hour so you could get flip-flops? I wanted to whack the woman in front of me with a pair of my shoes. She kept screaming at the little girl with her, who couldn't have been more than eight, to "Watch him! Would you watch him? Damn it, watch him!" referring to her two-year old, who was running in and out of the rounders of clothes. PS, the little girl was a neighbor girl she bribed to come with her with the promise of ice cream. PPS, she also had an infant in her arms that was also "buying" five pairs of flip-flops that were a curious Women's Size 8.

No way would I have brought my kids to this bloodbath. Every time an employee brought another box of shoes out, 1. she had to have another employee with her as an escort/bodyguard, and 2. the minute she put the box down, a swarm of women descended on it, like when you drop a piece of food outside and ants come out of nowhere.

I have not seen such chaos since the Salisbury Mall Pokeman Card Incident of 2001.

But I did get my five pair. Woot woot!

Vocab by Maury and a cute old couple...

How's that for a combo title?

I was at PT yesterday and saw the cutest little couple there. The dude's name was Edwin (but goes by Sam. That's not actually his name, not even his middle name. He just said he likes the name Sam and always wished that was his name, so he introduces himself as Sam. See how cute already?) He was recovering from something that funked up his balance (just like me) and was doing all of his little exercises with the therapist. He was walking, standing on toes, working on the squishy mat... But the most adorable thing was, that his wife was sitting there watching him, all with a little distracted smile on her face and I noticed her feet. Without even being conscious of it, she was making all the same motions he was. She was doing his exercises right along with him. A silly little thing, but it just touched me. Marriage really is a partnership, every step of the way. I hope Dave and I are that cute little couple one day. I don't want to be the cranky old fart who thinks the world owes her everything just because I managed to live a whole bunch of years. Dave is so goofy that I can't even imagine him becoming some some crotchety old coot, so I think he is going to be ok. Unless I drive him to it.

On a totally unrelated note, as I was watching Maury today (yes, a guilty pleasure of mine...dang, I cannot get enough of those Baby Daddy shows. Why? I am not sure, but when it is on, I am compelled to watch...) and I learned a new word today. Or maybe it is a phrase...? I am not really sure how to classify it. When asked why her ex might be denying her baby, the Momma replied, "Because of two-face-ded-ness!" You see the dilemma here...how to classify that? For that matter, how to spell it? You learn something new every day. Maury sure is edumacational.

Well, we're movin' on up...

...to the East siiiide....

Ok, not really the East side, and we are not actually moving yet, but every time we talk about the possible impending move, I get the theme from The Jeffersons stuck in my head.

The past two days have been all about getting the house ready for yesterday's Open House, and another showing today. I made the kids slightly mental yesterday by confining them to one room to play, because damn it, I was sick of cleaning one room, moving on to the next, only to find that the little diablos had trashed the first one. So, they were confined to the playroom, to which Chase protested, "But Moooooooom....I want to play with my trains...aaaaaah." Pretty much whenever he is whining about something it is "blah-blah-blah.....aaaaaahhhh." Sort of a drawn out whine. So adorable and not nerve-getting-on at all.

We vacated the oh-so-sparklin' clean house yesterday, and when we got back, we parked up the street a little since it was about 15 minutes until the OH was over. It was a little disconcerting watching strangers walking out of my house, but I am sure hoping someone fell in love yesterday. Our agent said there was a lot of interest, and today's showing seemed to be more of the same. Guess we'll see. I really want to move into the cute little brick number we have a contract on. I gotz big plans for that place. Big plans, I say.

But for now, the waiting game and time to enjoy some nerdy douchebag goodness.

What a maroon!

So, on my playgroups message board, we had a good question of the day today:

"If you were marooned on a deserted island, which three people would you want with you? They can be dead, alive, or imaginary. "

My response will follow, prefaced by the explanation as to why I did not pick my husband or my kids. You see, I am sure that learning to survive on a deserted island is miserable, and I would not want to subject those I love and hold dearest to such torture.

Yeah, that.

So, here is my answer...

1. Bear Grylls from "Man Vs. Wild". Super-smart and survivor-savvy. Plus, he is hotneZZ. He is my new guy-I-am-lusting-after... God-dog-it, I love me a manly-man.

2. Then, maybe Albert Einstein to stimulate my brain. Ranks a zero on hotness scale, but waaay up there on the brillance.

3. And finally, probably Dane Cook. Again for the hotness, but also to entertain me.

Think the Hubs will buy my explanation for not being stranded with him? Yeah, me neither.

Want to move to Florida?

You just might reconsider your answer when you see what showed up in my cousin's front yard. Sounds like her boys thought it was super cool, and I imagine mine would, too, but I would be crapping my pants.

Now, I used to live in Florida, and the worst I have seen are kamikaze cockroaches. You know the ones I mean if you ever lived there. They are MASSIVE and will fly off of the wall right at your face *shiver, shiver, shiver*.

But this dude...he takes the cake for freaking me out.

Porno Rhyme Time

So, Hunter is very into rhyming words these days. Click, trick...dog, log...train, pain...

Until yesterday, when he started rhyming things that go with "duck". I think you see where I am going with this one.

I am no prude, and have a potty mouth I try valiantly to keep from the little pitchers' ears, but I have to say it was shocking to hear that word come from a 4-year-old's mouth. He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was not a big deal, too. So, I had to tell him that this was a naughty word, that we did not say, and gave him some alternatives that also rhymed, like "truck", "Chuck", "cluck"... Until the little brother decided to march around repeating the F-bomb over and over. Equally shocking to hear from a three-year-old's mouth.

Again, I repeated that this was a naughty word and we did not say those things. ("We", of course, meaning "they". ) More distraction with other -uck words followed and I think I have it nipped in the bud. If not, maybe I should get them these t-shirts...just so that people are prepared.

Hubs and I did have a private giggle about it today, though. But we are warped like that.

Back to the land of the semi-hearing...

I've been working my way back to you, babe...

(And you are welcome for the song headache you have now.)

So, I have been recovering, and looking for the funny in any of this mess. Not quite there, but although this chick may get down....make no mistake, she always, always, always bounces back. I don't think I have been through anything less or more than anyone else, and hey, who knows what someone is going through day to day? But I can say that the things I have been through have made me the strong person I am today. A hurricane, losing my dad, a miscarriage...now this illness. But I read in the paper today about a 41 year old guy who had a stroke and lost his ability to speak. He had to rely on a dry erase board and a computer to do the talking for him. Through it all, he never lost his faith. He prayed for God's guidance to get him through it. He had to think and map out his every day activities in order to plan for how to communicate with those he came in contact with: at the bank, at fast food joints, the grocery store... It all took a conscious effort to plan. He said one of the hardest things for him was going to church and not being able to sing the hymns along with the rest of the congregation. One Sunday, years after his stroke, in the middle of a hymn, his speech suddenly returned and he was able to sing the hymn...and it was one with a message of faith. How amazing is this? It puts a lot into perspective. Someone always has it worse than you, and faith will carry you when you think you are all alone with no hope.

Now, do I still have a pity party now and then? Hell to the yeah. Being dizzy and deaf in one ear just sucks. No other word for it. It just sucks out loud. But, I have my sight. I have hearing in my other ear to hear Hunter giggle, Chase sing "Thomas's Winter Wonderland", Austin tell me he loves me, and Dave tell me that we are in this together. I have use of my arms, legs, and brain. I know life is good. I really do. I am just not so patient. I want to be better NOW. God is telling me to slow down and be patient. This will take time. I have to attend more doctor appointments, have further procedures, and have vestibular therapy. It can take months to get to a new normal. So I have to wait, and have faith. The faith part, I got. The wait part, not so much.

And to top it off, we are attempting to sell our house and buy a new one. Holy crap, am I crazy? Why, yes. Yes, indeed. But such is our life here. Always something new to do, a task to complete, a butt to wipe. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Oh, and back to the song...enjoy. And it's a remix BEEYATCHES!