I Hate Meeces to Pieces

We  have a new visitor in our house. It is a  mouse. A dirty, rotten, stinking mouse. 

Yesterday the cats went berserk trying to catch the stinker. It hid behind the bookcase, then finally ran to hide behind the desk. 

After we herded all the four leggeds upstairs, Husband set traps here and there, hoping to find a nice dead rodent this morning.

Not so. 

Husband set about disarming all springs this morning so everyone could come downstairs without getting a tootsie trapped.

Here are Frost and Mimi yesterday. They had been crouched for a long time. Eventually, they chilled and just stared at the mouse under the bookcase:

And of course, the ever vigilant, mighty Maine Coon hot on the mouse trail:

AHEM!

So, anyway. The scary thing is when the cats came down, none of them acted like there had ever been a mouse in the house.

When we came home from the ever increasing doctor's appointments today, I coulda sworn I smelled rat.

 Husband sniffed, shrugged and said, "Possibly."

Daughter just looked at me.

No one that abides in this abode except me can smell stuff worth a tee wattly toot.

I may be just a wee bit paranoid as we once had a mouse die in the vent and we had to live with it because we couldn't get to it.

Lordee.

Or maybe the same buddy that dropped him off came back by and picked him up.

We can only hope.

Fidget Spinner? Nope, just my head.

You know how you have days when you look back and go: What the heck? 

Well, my day started like that on Saturday morning and hasn't stopped. And it's ding dang Tuesday.

First of all, on Friday night, Husband accidentally locked Frost, our cat, on the back porch all night. 

Other than  knocking over a plant and peeing in the floor, it didn't appear damage had been done. After all, the porch is screened in and on the second floor. 

He waltzed in and wanted food. All seemed to be well. 

A few hours later he and our other tom, Eli, went back on the porch and that's when the fight broke out.

Suddenly Eli went berserk. At first we thought a wild animal was outside, but it was Eli and he was attacking Frost.

Now: Eli is a young Maine Coon whose bones and muscle weighs in at 21 pounds. He is a polydactyl, which means he has twelve claws in front and ten in back. His canines are HUGE. 

Frost is an older, declawed (came that way from the shelter) 19 pounds of blubber.

In other words, he doesn't stand a chance.

And every time Eli got close enough to sniff Frost, the fight was on.
We have sprayed water in Eli's face. We have separated them as much as possible.

It's a nightmare. 

So, I called the vet. He agrees something outside changed the way Frost smells. So tomorrow, to further traumatize the cat, we will take  him to the vet for a bath.

We are going to give Eli a chill pill. So when Frost gets back (they will have to sedate him to bathe him, trust me), we'll have two drunk cats. Let's hope when they sober up, and Frost no longer smells funky, all will be well.

What else?

Well, our electricity was off for over three hours last night, which means we don't have water either.

I made the mistake of trying to speak with a customer service rep. at AT&T and almost lost my mind.

Our wheel barrow had a flat tire.

We got stood up for the fifth time for yard work.

Oh, and Mimi (our other cat) got a gimpy leg so bad on Sunday she could barely walk. But yesterday she was better, and today you can barely  notice she's favoring the leg a little. But Sunday, she was pitiful.

I tried to call the local public library today to inquire about a book. The number had been disconnected. I tried twice. Daughter rolled her eyes, took the phone from her senile mother and dialed the number. It had been disconnected for her, too.

I'm sure there's more, but frankly, I just can't think about it anymore.

What, No Cats?

I  had a cat when Husband and I got married. In fact, I warned him when we started courting that I came with cats. He'd never been around a house cat, so he was a little leery. But he loved me enough to agree. (In fact, he has his own cat now that worships him, or maybe it's the other way 'round.)

After we married, and decided to move in together (imagine that, we married first and then moved in together), we moved to Ellijay, because Husband wanted to raise our child-of-the-future as far away from city as he could. 

My cat had never lived anywhere but where I was living then, at the end of a dirt road that nobody traveled on but me. He was used to staying out while I was at work (he had a safe place to hide if something got after him) and then staying in while I was at home in the evenings and at night. Where Husband and I were  moving, right in town, to a rental house, I knew the cat would never be happy. Husband's parents took Bunker in. He loved it there, and they all loved him dearly right into a ripe old age.

Husband knew how I loved my cats, so he found some for me while we lived in town. But as time went by, and we worked and then went to the building site of soon-to-be-home, we weren't there for them much. We gave the Manx, Smokey, to my Mother and he loved it there. We sold the Persian, Mugsy, to some folks that were home most the time and who fell in love with him at first sight.

Back when our house was in the middle of nowhere, (it's in the middle of somewhere now) and Husband was working emergency services during the night, it was clear I needed a guard dog. We found a dear Boxer that I still miss, but she hated  cats. If she went out in the morning and found cat paw prints on the porch, she went berserk. 

So I was cat-less for a dozen years or so.

The day after Sam, our Boxer, died, I got a phone call while at work. "I know you can't have a cat because of your dog, but do you know of anyone who might want a cat? This lady is dying from cancer and has tried to find a home for her, but nothing is working out."

I knew what this cat looked like before she could finish a sentence. I knew she'd be white and long-haired. 

I knew she was mine.

Of course, I called Husband, and of course, he said yes. So the cat was brought to me the next afternoon at the end of the workday. 

She was either half Maine Coon, half Angora, or full blooded Angora, which is in the Maine Coon ancestry. She weighed about ten pounds. She lived fourteen years, but kidney issues finally got her.

She was the beginning of the cat reign at the Hill House. But she was not the end. 

In photos they look alike. But Eli is twice her size, and a full blooded Maine Coon. However; the resemblance is obvious.

Cats.

Wish I had room for more.

But don't get any ideas.

Why is it?

Our four legged family, which consists of a dog and three cats, has a real problem with our downstairs half-bath.

I just don't know what it is.

If I go in there to you-know, I can't in peace. The cats crowd in, especially the whites, jumping on the console and then onto the sink, looking at me as though I should leap up and turn on the cold water to a trickle so they can be entertained while I'm there.

Well, I didn't invite them, and I can't leap up, which usually means they are bored and Eli starts to pick on Frost. There is general growling and hissing and somebody (usually Frost) leaves in a huff.

We have yet to have a bulldog that can tolerate me being in there alone (or with a cat/cats). 

Our half bath is tiny (think small elevator) and it's difficult for a big old bulldog to get back out. They can come in pretty easily, but there's no backing up, turning around and walking back out without great effort. So, they come in looking all worried about me, and then they go out (if they ever figure out how to do that), looking all worried about themselves.

Come to think about it, bulldogs look worried pretty much all the time. I guess I'm picking up on their mood.

It has to do with the size of the room, because upstairs bathroom causes no problems at all, nor does any other room.

But now that I think about it, I'm seldom alone in the upstairs bathroom, either.

And it's bigger. So three cats, a dog, a husband and a daughter can all come in at once.

I apparently deserve no privacy.

I wish they'd get it together enough to put on some kind of show.

Make the time go faster.

Wait. Do you hear that? I do believe it's circus music...

I did it

I did it.

I shaved my face.

Boy, I sure do  miss my eyebrows.

Ha, ha. Just kidding. Even I ain't that stupid.

I did it because a young friend of mine does some modeling and she said all models shave the fuzz off their face before a photo shoot in order for the make up to go on smoother, for a richer look.

It didn't work.

I told Husband I was ready for my picture to be struck. I asked how my make up looked.

He got up real close and squinted at my face. "Can't tell any difference," he said with a shrug.

Sigh.

So, anyway, I had a billion pictures made. Then we decided to get Eli (my Maine Coon cat, in case you don't know) and see if there was a candid shot in there somewhere. It took him a few shots to get comfortable. He was about to lie down on the table next to  my old typewriter, so I reached back behind me to get the chair.

The idea was for me to slowly sit down at the typewriter with Eli lying there next to me.

What a great shot!

That wasn't meant to be. As I stepped backward with my eye on Eli, I stepped on Mimi, Daughter's cat, and she yowled like Big Foot had stepped on her (shut up). Of course, that put Eli on high alert and he jumped down to run after her. 

Sigh again.

I guess I ain't never gonna be a high paid model.

Plus, my grandmother kept showing up. Now, she died in 1987, and had plenty of her own photos made. Why she kept getting in front of my face is beyond me.

As you might guess, I've had trouble picking out which photo to use for my book. Actually, I gave up and sent four to my publisher. 

Let them deal with it.

After all, they  never knew my grandmother.

Just Another Day at the Hill House

If you live on this side of the United States, you know it snowed.

We got a good three inches, if not four. Fat, fluffy snow that makes the yard looked quilted. Stuck to everything, so it is lovely. It didn't get above 26 degrees today, so we still have it with us. I think the wind chill factor in the morning will be ten degrees.

But they promise a better afternoon, highs in the forties.

Of course I nagged   encouraged Husband to build a fire in the 'real' fireplace. It's been so very nice as we have taken down all the Christmas decorations today.

Right now the house looks like someone ransacked it, but it will take less than half an hour to have it looking pre-Christmas again.

During all this, we had company. He forgot his pants and left them in the living room.

You'd think as cold as it is outside....

AND

We had another mouse!

Have we become a mouse motel and no one told us? The drama ended when all three cats surrounded the tiny thing, Frost hissing at it (!) and all of them going in for the kill.

Husband jumped in the middle, caught the trembling half inch long mouse in a paper towel and took it down the road, into the woods on the other side.

I am sure neighbors will thank us profusely.

What a day!

Guess I'll go clean up the kitchen now.

Better that than help with the rest of the Christmas stuff.

Plus, I gotta find a place to put his pants.

Cat + Wings = Angel?

It all started when Daughter and I were browsing in a department store. She and I saw, at the same time, a figurine of a cat. It looked almost porcelain, but when picked up was pretty chunky. It was a white cat, it's face lifted up, as though feeling sun on its face. 

And it had wings.

We burst into tears.

You may ask why.

Well, that's what I'm here for, to tell the story.

For years we did not have a cat. I know that's hard to believe, but the reason was Sam. 

Sam was our Boxer and she hated cats. We purchased her when she was 18 months old, right after we moved into our house. We loved her, and I resigned myself to a catless life for a while.

Daughter came along, and all she knew were dogs. For by then, we had another Boxer, Buster.

Buster died when  Daughter was five. Sam died when Daughter was eight. 

The day after Sam died, one of the women I worked with called me and said, "I know you can't have cats, but do you know of anyone who might want one? I have this white cat..."

My mind froze. I could see the cat as if she'd shown me a picture. I knew that cat would look like my cat, Scooter, that I had owned many years ago. I had no doubt in my mind. I called Husband, he said yes, and the next day the cat was delivered to my office at closing. 

Her name was "White Sox". Why in the world someone would name a solid white cat that, I do not know. But I knew her real name: Angel.

She was smaller that  Scooter, by a lot. She never weighed more than ten pounds. But other than size, she looked very much like he did. We thought she was maybe half Maine Coon and maybe some Angora. She had long, silky white hair, and a presence about her that said royalty.

She'd been badly scarred by having to leave the only home she knew, an elderly woman dying of cancer. She'd been taken away and put in a garage with a tom cat, terrified.

Another family took her in, but they had a dog with puppies, and she cowered in the corner all the time.

It took her a while to cotton to us. 

Daughter was playing in her kiddie pool on the screened in porch when we brought the cat in. The cat was in a carrier, and Daughter at first thought we had brought home a rabbit.

Angel was truly a mesenger from God; a comfort for our grief over Sam's death.

She lived to be just over fourteen years old. Kidney failure, deafness, and seizures got her. But we loved her and she loved us.

So when we saw the angel cat statue, we were comforted again. Heartbroken, too.

Of course I purchased it. She sits up on top of the chifforobe, sweet face to the sky, a slight smile on her face.

Angel was a good cat; I miss her still.

There's a Mouse in the House OR I Hate Meeses to Pieces...You Pick

We came home the other evening, and as I passed by Daughter's room, I saw two of our cats, Mimi and Frost, staring intently behind the Chest of Drawers.

"There's something in  your room," I said to Daughter.

She looked, said, "I don't see anything."

So, I went on my merry way.

Shortly thereafter, I thought I heard Daughter hollering, "Ow, Ow, Ow!" Not in a terribly injured way, just semi dramatic, so I went about my business. Then I heard, "Ow! Mama! Ow!"

I walked into her room, "What?"

"Mouse! Mouse! Mouse!"

Oh. Sometimes being hearing impaired can be fun.

"I told you there was something back there."

She got a flashlight and had taken a better look and found two little eyes staring back at her.

Then she wanted to know what to do. I suggested leave the cats to it. Meanwhile, Eli, my big bruiser Maine Coon Cat strolled by, sniffed, shrugged and walked into the bathroom and sat down by the food bin. He arched a brow as if to say, "I don't eat mouse. Put some food in my dish."

Daughter continued hollering. "Daddy! Daddy! Mouse! Come here!"

Husband arrives upstairs and shoos the cats out of the room.

Wait. What?

"Why are you doing that?" I ask.

"I don't want the cats to catch it. I'll set traps tonight."

Sheesh.

Praying the cats don't get hurt in the traps,I give up. He promises the room will be closed up so the cats can't get in.

The next morning, the mouse has had a fine breakfast of cheese and peanut butter and is resting comfortably somewhere in the house.

I think I heard it burp.

Daughter says it is 'sorta cute'. It must be a field  mouse, as she describes it as about an inch long. It probably came in with the stored Christmas decorations or came in while we had the door open toting said decorations into the house.

All this was a few days ago, and we havent' seen hide nor hair of the mouse.

But I feel certain we will.

Soon.

It's Raining Men

There are at least half a dozen men in my yard. Making a lot of noise.

There are two men in my bathroom, making a huge mess and a lot of noise.

Then there are the Jehovah Witnesses at the door asking one of the workmen: "Do you live here? Does anybody live here?"

Really?

The place is jumping worse than a frog on a hot stove, and they want to know if anyone lives here?

I haven't even mentioned Husband, who, if you reread my blog from yesterday, has walked into the tree for the seventh time.

Or our dog, Bonnie, who suddenly decided she had to sit on my feet and growl at every man who walks by (that's a lot of growling) because she has to protect me.

And cats - Husband was sure Eli had escaped outside. I knew he would not, he's never been out except in a crate, and he's not likely to bolt. All I had to do was whistle - you know, put your lips together - eh, never mind.

There's wash in the washer and dryer, but I can't get to it because of giant boxes.

I was going to stir up a pone of cornbread, but Husband failed to buy buttermilk, and it just ain't as good with sweet milk.

Mother is calling every five minutes to tell me the order in which things should be done in town, because I ain't old enough to figger it out.

Oh, did I mention all the power steering abilities of our car disappeared on the way to church Sunday? They sure did. The garage has called and the car is ready to pick  up, power steering reinstated.

Ain't no where to park it, though. Not with trucks and vans all over creation.

We should be able to park it in the garage, which was why the garage was built, but we can't. Refer to the word Husband.

Ah, well. When they are all finished the yard will be nicer, the bathroom will be better, and all will be quiet again.

Tell me this is so, please.

What?

Sick.

Obedience training for the dog (or is it for us?)

Hard proof copy of new novel coming in and finding problems...not knowing if it will get here before Christmas.

Taking Mother to the doctor.

Daughter getting whatever it is I have. (Mongolian Strangle, I think).

Cats being terrified of dog.

House in uproar.

Wrapping presents.

Having a Christmas Party  Sunday night at the house.

Not having any cards mailed.

Insurance Co. giving us a hard time because they made a mistake.

Company I've done business with for years giving us trouble over a faulty item.

Film at eleven.

Busy, Busy

Besides taking two of the cats to the vet today, I have been reading the manuscript copy in book form (on the computer) to make sure it's okay.

It's not okay.

There were a few mistakes a friend caught, at the last minute.

I realized, in looking at the name of chapters, I had goofed, and spent last night working (already in bed) as to how I was going to fix it without a huge do over.

I figured it out.

But my brain is tired.

My body is tired.

I think I'll go to bed early. (If I go to bed much earlier than usual, I might as well not get up.)

I still ain't called my mother today, so I better do that first.

Later, gater.

Who Turned off the Heat?

I reckon if I hadn't put that extry quilt on the the bed last night, we woulda froze to death.

As it was, when I woke up to go to the little girl's room at five a.m., by the looks of everybody smacked together in the bed, you would have assumed we were in a twin bed instead of a queen sized one.

Husband was jammed back to back to me, Frost (fat cat) was to my left, stretched out down my thigh, Eli was on the calf part of my leg and Mimi was propped up on the pillow, sharing the warmth from the horse corn bag heated up for my feet.

Come morning, people were worried about the apple trees. I haven't heard. I hope all is well.

Instead of mid-twenties tonight, it's supposed to be mid-thirties.

I reckon I'll keep that extry quilt on tonight.

Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.

Big Trouble

Spring has finally arrived.

I know this without a doubt. Not because last Tuesday it was snowing and this Tuesday it was seventy-eight degrees, but because of one thing that  happens every spring at our house.

But first! A story:

One of my very best friends is a school bus driver, among other things. Many years ago she had a little boy on her bus we will call Billy Bob. Billy Bob came from a very, uh, lax home life and cussed like a sailor.

However; his all wise mama advised him not to cuss on Friend's bus or he'd "get his a** kicked from here to kingdom come."

Friend asked him did he understand what that meant and he said, "Yes," and then proceeded to list a string of profanity a mile long.

"Okay. As long as you know," said friend.

Friend also works as an aide to children with special needs, so she is at school all day. Billy Bob spotted her in the area and came running, intense and solemn on his errand.

"Ma'am, we got trouble. Big trouble."

"What is it, Billy Bob?"

"Aints. Piss Aints."

Well, to coin a phrase, we got trouble at our house. Big trouble.

They enter our upstairs bathroom every year, headed for the cat food. They form a conga line and dance their way to and fro, driving us as well as the cats, crazy.

Husband found a eucalyptus based spray that won't hurt the cats but kills the ants, so he's going go hunt that up tomorrow and start spraying.

But until then....

It's trouble. Big trouble.

Down to the Last Dog

We may be down to getting the last dog we will ever own after Molly dies.

Oh, there might be two more, depending on how long the dog(s) live, as well as how long we live.

Molly is nine, and hobbling pretty badly. She's having surgery on her gums Friday. She has seizures. Maybe she will make it to ten, but I doubt she'll see eleven.

We have talked about the next dog. We are probably going to get another Bull Mastiff. They are  not as hard to take care of, being a "door mat" dog.

They live around ten years.

That would put Husband at seventy-six or seven. Will we want another dog to take care of by then? I don't know.

And cats: well, if Eli lives 20 years, I'll be seventy-seven. Will I want another cat?

See, I can't imagine living without a dog and a cat.

But then again, I could have never imagined talking about seeing the end of my life in terms of the number of dogs I might live long enough to own, either.

Do you think about this when you are even in your forties? Probably not.

It makes me sad, thinking I might be at a point in my late life where I feel I can no longer take care of a dog and/or cat.

Because they have always taken care of me.

The Day After

I figured I better blog tonight so no one would think I'd gone berserk and eaten my young.

Nope.

The salt truck and scraper came and Husband ran out to town like a scalded dog. That was a good thing because we were needing groceries. Husband usually grocery shops on Wednesday, so we were two days behind.

Unfortunately, everyone else was two days behind right along beside him. Plus some foul odor and loud noise was attacking the grocery store. Husband said two ladies walked by with their mouths covered with cloth. He just walked out and left the buggy.

Then he went to Wal-mart.

Husband found out there are far worse things than wives who write strange blogs.

Since Husband had such a lovely time, Daughter and I finally took the cats to the vet. I only got one teeny tiny scratch from Lilly after we cornered her attempting to put her in the carrier.

We got back home with nary another scratch. There was still some slush on the bad shady part of the road, and it will refreeze tonight, but thaw again tomorrow.

I hear it's going to snow next week.

I reckon I'm ready as I'll ever be.

Now that I got out, I remembered it ain't all it's cracked up to be.

There is no place like home, Auntie Em.

A Long Winter's Night

Before I went upstairs last evening, around seven, it was a blistering five degrees on my back porch. I haven't seen that in many years, and the weather poopahs said it was going to get colder.

So, I prepared. I put an extra quilt on our bed, a lovely double wedding ring that I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed.

And I slept in a long john top and leggings.

You, youth, would recognize long john top by the other name, thermal  underwear.

And as for the leggings, let's just say they aren't the leggings that I remember.

Ah, the leggings of the 1980's were baggy woolie things that scrunched down over your tights or tight pants from your knee down to just below your ankle.

I was quite dashing in my soft pink leggings, let me tell you. I looked like a ballerina on the cusp of a pirouette.

That's right.

I also had big hair, broad shoulders and high waisted, pleated slacks.

I was ravishing in my own right.

Anyway, as you may have noticed, I digress.

The leggings of today are nothing like those leggings.

Today's leggings come in a really, really tight form, exactly like tights without feet. I wear these a lot, under  my britches.

They come in a heavier, non-clingy version too, which a lot of girls are wearing under dresses or under long sweaters that they think are dresses, but are, they will realize in their forties (I hope), just long shirts.

We slept well, especially with the other trick up our sleeves. I have two 'horse corn' or 'feed corn' sacks that we heat up in the microwave (how's that for ancient meets modern?). These are placed under part of the covers, and a pillow laid on top of that, toward the foot of the bed.

This creates a radiating heat that tootsies love.

Of course, four cats with body temperatures around 102 degrees lying about hither and yon upon the bed help too.

This morning, I scurried to the back porch to take a look at the thermometer (I scurried back in, too). It was a bracing MINUS three degrees.

I checked our geographical placement on the map.

Yup.

We're still in the deep south.

Good thing, huh.

 Otherwise we might freeze to death.

A Three Cat Night

Boy howdy, was it cold last night!

Just for fun, (no, I don't  have a life, why do you ask?) I kept calling the little feller in the box what talks to you and tells you what time it really is and the temperature. Every time I called  him, it was a few degrees lower.

Husband had to take Dog out at 10:45 p.m. and was surprised that it was snowing, and the ground already white.

Husband said Dog seemed scared of the falling snow and wanted back in quickly. That's a guard dog for you.

As I read in bed, my favorite pass time at night, cats began to join me. At first it was all four of them, but Eli disappeared at some point, and Daughter reported he slept with her.

That's a good thing, because I was having a hard time turning over as it was.

At eight a.m. it was a bracing twelve degrees on our back porch, there was a light dusting of snow in the woods and yard, and the wind was brisk.

I think the highest it got today was thirty-one degrees.

And snow on Sunday? Really.

Man, I love living in the South during global warming, don't you?

Armageddon! Or: Taking Two Cats to the Vet

When you have Maine Coon cats one thing is bound to occur: matting. (notice the two t's, please)

Eli doesn't tolerate combing very well, and Lilly will let you, just not under her where her belly is. This is the first year Eli has had a full winter coat, so this is the second time in less than two months that I've had to have some mats shaved from his underside.

Lilly was given a crew cut several months ago, so she just now has had a few mats that needed shaving.

The adventure of putting her into a carrier is best left untold.

Eli goes willingly, every time. He even lays around in our carrier sometimes when he is ambushing another cat or hiding from Daughter.

But the carrying on in the car on the way to the vets is earsplitting! And you should hear the cats, too!  HA!

And it is creepy to see cats pant. Only dogs should pant. They look wild. Ears laid back, teeth bared...skeery.

Eli weighs seventeen pounds now, and Lilly is a solid eleven. Toting them in and out ain't no easy chore, either.

Signing in and waiting is interesting.

One lady brought in a very reluctant dog. The woman opened the door and stood there, holding a leash with something obviously on the other end, but I thought the dog was never gonna make it. When she did finally scurry in, what we saw a  was a very fat Pug who looked like it was going to burst into tears. Her curly tail was tucked between her legs.She hid under the bench at the door, then hurried to get to the next bench so she could hide under it and sit behind her owner's legs. Occasionally, she would peek out, look exceedingly worried and hide again.

Her name was (get ready) Sassy.

Then a woman came out of one of the examining rooms, crying. I mean really crying, funeral home crying. And she had no pet in her arms. But they sat down to wait....

I said a prayer for her.

They took Lilly back, trimmed her and brought her to us. I went back with Eli. He's my baby,you know, and he does better.

It's true. He stares at me when they are buzzing him. If he loses sight of me, he struggles.

The vet tech said she'd seen cats be so afraid they were running laps around the room, trying to find a way out. And these cats were on the ceiling. And I quote: "I don't know  how they can climb straight up a wall, but they do it."

When I came back out an older gentleman was there with a young, boisterous setter of some sort who was barking loudly every fifteen seconds.

Each time old Sassy cringed and trembled.

We paid, we left, we got home.

Until next time.

All You Need Is Love

I suppose some couples are more compatible than others.

I also know opposites attract, and sometimes with disastrous results.

There are couples who look like each other.

And there are couples who are totally opposite in looks from one another, but are a lot alike in personality.

Husband said he always thought he'd marry a dark haired petite woman.  (His mother) I am tall and fair, so he failed miserably. But: my mother-in-law and I  were a lot alike in personality, so I think he got what he was looking for after all.

Me? I've always gone for the blond guy. And Husband, who is now more salt than pepper, had hair that bordered on black. (So I'll have a "blond" after all!)

What drew me to Husband in the first place? Laughter. We often laughed at the same time, and we laugh together every day.

I think that goes a long way in any relationship, unless you are the odd duck who has no sense of humor, and if you are, I can't imagine why you would still be reading my blogs, because they are fraught with silly.

Last night said it all for us when it comes to compatibility.

I knew, of course, we like the same room temperature, the same amount of covers on the bed, etc.

But last night, we were lying side by side, both of us with a book. My cat, Eli was sprawled across my chest and belly, where he often snuggles before I sleep. And may I say last night, his higher body temperature felt really, really good.

I happen to glance sideways, and there was Frost, another of our cats, sprawled across David's chest and belly, looking smug about his copy cat behavior.

Two giant white cats, lots of covers, a good book each.

Do we get along, or what?

It's Raining Men er I mean

It's Raining Men Leaves!

For at least two days, non-stop, it has poured leaves. And still there are more on the trees.

I've never seen it quite so fierce or constant.

I suppose (maybe) it's because we had solid green until the cold spell, late, and then BAM! everything changed at once.

So I guess they are all dropping at once.

My cats are delirious. They stalk from window to window, tails swishing sixty miles an hour, watching them fall from the sky. I don't know if they think they are birds, or what. But it is certainly keeping them entertained.

Eli sat in the bathroom for five minutes, looking up at the skylight. He would cry, look at me expectantly, cry, look up, cry. I have no idea what he was expecting me to do, but he clearly did not like what was going on.

It's been an entertainment for me, too.

Other than pacing and racing to the bathroom yesterday, until I passed the kidney stone, I haven't done much.

Now that I'm left with an infection - fever, headache, backache, tummy ache, lying in bed and watching the leaves fall is entertaining for me too.

Okay, okay. It was for about five minutes, then absolute boredom set in and so I whined loudly to anyone who could hear me.

My baby brother gave us a scare last night after doing so well from surgery, but he is stable now, and we are all breathing easier - including him!

I wonder if he can see the leaves fall from his hospital bed. Probably not, being in ICU. He'll come home to bald trees.

Well, I think I'll go back to my well wallowed bed for a little while.

I wonder if it's still raining. Leaves, that is.