Crazy things make me happy

My spice cupboard makes me happy. 
Happy because it's all lined up.
Happy because it's labelled.
All is in order.  It's easy to find.  It's organized.
When I open the cupboard, this truly makes me feel all is right with the world.
Weird.

This makes me a bit happy too.  Not totally over-the-moon happy, but definitely grin-generating.
I'd smile wider if the lasagne noodles were in containers, not their boxes.  And I'd be absolutely giddy if the lids were all the same colour.
But I'm pretty-okay-happy because I can find everything and the labels are all the same font.

I know.  Weird.  But that's the way I roll (and smile).

Lacey

This is Lacey.  I borrowed her a few times this summer for a class in Girl's horse shows.

Lacey has reminded me of the thing I was missing, that I didn't even know I was missing. 

I have missed horses, and I have missed riding.  (It's been 20 years...)

And now the show season is over and I have no idea what I will do with this new/old void. 

I do know that Girl feels the same way about riding Strawberry Shortcake.

Bad Day

There is a poster I've seen somewhere that says, "When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on."

That's crap.

 I think when you've come to the end of your rope you should acknowledge it.  Say, "I'm done." Then you should let go and hope to fall into a vat of chocolate.  Indulge and wallow a bit. Then climb out.  Grab your fuzzy pajamas and a wine (alternatively you could fall into a vat of wine and then grab chocolate). Then I think you should be able to say "I had a crappy day.  I'm not doing anymore today.  I'm not hanging on to be brave or to save face.  I am just done.  Tomorrow I will attempt to climb the rope again.  But I'm not just hangin' in there anymore."

And I think you should not feel guilty about that attitude or the indulgences.

That's what I think.

I'm done.

napping

"Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap."
~Robert Fulghum.


just sayin'....



It's called "trick the people"

Trick Number One:

It's called "hide under the china cabinet." 

If you have been especially bad --like, if you've been on the counter, or into a plant, or if you've been on the table sticking your paws into a vase and wrecking a bouquet, or if you've put teeth marks in a shoe -- this is a good trick.

Here's how it works.  As soon as you hear/see/smell people coming run, then DIVE, dive, dive under the China cabinet.  Then peek one eye out to see what is going on, and to make sure no one has noticed anything amuck in the kitchen.  This trick is effective for two reasons:  1) no one can get to you under the cabinet, unless you get cocky and stick your head out for too long and 2) if you are here, how can you have done such damage way over there?  Clearly, people, there's been a mistake.

This trick has two drawbacks: 1) Sometimes you have to hide for a long time, because it seems, people, especially the big red-headed one, have long memories.  2) When you are a growing kitty sometimes you forget to take into account that your head is larger than it once was.

Trick Number Two:

If you have been a bad kitty -- like, you've dug in a plant and then walked through the bathroom sink and left muddy footprints all over the counter, if you have taken a sock or two (not matching, of course), if you have hidden hair elastics or barettes, if you have scratched a chair or climbed a curtain -- this is a good trick.

Here's how it works.  As soon as you hear/see/smell people coming, run then leap onto The Chair.  Hold your head up high but not too high, look interested but not too interested, pose in a slightly arrogant, somewhat aristocratic manner.  This trick is effective for two reasons:  1) if I am here doing this, I could not have done that, and 2) Look at me.  I am beautiful.  Would I have stooped so low?

This trick has two drawbacks. 1) If your paws are muddy, you've not only given yourself away but you've also muddied The Chair.  2) When you are on The Chair, you are readily accessible and vulnerable.  There is no place to hide, and looks can only take you so far....

Glogging

Boy says "Mom, blogging is so yesterday.  We're glogging now."
Glogging?  Kinda sounds like the way I describe a backed-up sink to DH.

Boy learned to Glog on the first day of school.  He is so keen on it, that he's done his glog homework every night without being asked.  And I have to admit, it's pretty cool.

Glogging is like making a one-page poster that can include all types of media -- pictures, video, clipart, text, sound, and data.  You have colour, font, sizing, graphic options by the hundreds.  It is a bit addictive.

Boy taught me, so I taught my Grade 6s today. Already they know way more than I do, and I had about a 19 hour jump on their learning....

When I get my first glog done (I'm slow) I'll link it to this blog.  ....Even if the blog is old news.

PS  If you are keen google "Glogster" and get started.

NO PHOTO AVAILABLE

I tried to get a photo.  I even had the camera ready, but by the time I got to the playroom to take a picture of the CLEAN floor, it wasn't clean anymore.  Girl had been there.  'nough said.  Picture "PigPen" from Charlie Brown fame.

Last night DH and I were flipping through channels.  We came upon the reality show "Buried Alive" the stories of hoarders.  It was fascinating in a train-wreck sort of way.  The lady they featured  had a beautiful home that was stuffed to the roof with stuff, junk.  Her husband had left the house 3 years before because he couldn't live in the chaos.  For the episode he was coming back into the house for the first time.  I said to DH "if that were me, I'd open the door and then turn around and leave.  I couldn't do it."  And I couldn't.

I recognize hoarders have serious mental health issues.  And I don't make light of that. I just recognize my own MHI (mental health issues) and clutter/chaos trigger near breakdown in me.  Hence my aversion to the playroom after Girl has let loose.  It is best for me to avoid that room.  All I have to do is walk in the room and my crazy sets in.  Piles, mess, stuff on the floor (anyplace, not just the playroom) send me to lou-lou land and I have to get out.

Girl hangs on to "stuff."  Every piece of paper and craft ever made is held in a special place in her  heart.  It literally causes pain to throw things out.  She's too sentimental.  Me, I am the opposite.  There are very, very few things I feel that kind of attachment to -- my internal organs, and the organs and souls of my peeps would be about it.

If I had to choose actual items to save from a fire I'd say I'd pick my wedding ring, the Royal Doulton that was my grandma's, and the first painting DH gave me.  I'd have to say Rocky too (even if he started the fire, 'cause I wouldn't put it past the punk.)  That's it.  Everything else can be replaced.  It's just stuff. 

That's why I could never relate to the hoarding thing.  I can't imagine surviving in such chaos. 

I need my peeps, and I need tidy.  Now if I could just train the peeps to be tidy.....