One of my wonderful readers pointed out that there is apparently no way to contact me from here. (I really thought it was on here somewhere. Obviously, I was wrong.)
It’s fixed and if for some reason you would like to email me, there is a link at the top of the right hand sidebar now.
Thanks to Peter for pointing it out!
That was one of the few things my grandmother and I agreed upon over the years. She had gone for a long while without pets, and I recall coming over to the house for Friday pizza night and my parents announced that my grandmother had adopted a kitten. Pepper was a lovely companion for my grandmother for many years, and it pained her greatly when Miss P had to go on to her great reward. Knowing the importance of pets – not just pets – animal companions – my mother scheduled a trip out to Arizona for the specific purpose of helping my grandmother find another kitty cat. As it turned out, my grandmother found Miss Kitty the week before my Mom went out there. (Sometimes I think Miss Kitty and Carmen share some very specific “I should be the only one here, so fuck you” DNA.)
I wasn’t chasing the cats, why do you ask?
My pets bring me so much joy and happiness and serenity. Most of the time. And then there are nights like this evening where they are all just batshit crazy. Don’t get me wrong – I would genuinely be lost if I didn’t have my two feline velociraptors and my canine triceratops. (Even as I type this, Carmen is tapping my leg for the go-ahead to jump on my lap for a cuddle. Then she changed her mind, jumped up on the cat shelf and headed for the fireplace mantel. I helped her get back down.)
But occasionally, I can come up with a list of things that people do without pets…
– Cook spaghetti sauce without a dog twirling between their legs waiting for something to fall. (Or a culinary minded feline.)
– Never have to tell a dog that the cat shelf isn’t actually eating the cat.
– Never have to put one cat on Prozac because she is so insanely protective of her sister cat that she will shred your foot when she thinks sister cat is in danger. (Especially when said sister cat is in no danger and is just clumsy as all get out.)
– Read a book without a cat landing on it.
– Take a nap without a cat suddenly landing on your bladder.
– Not having to check your clothes for cat hair if you’re going out of the house for an important appointment.
Yes, my pets have tested my patience in the past 24 hours. Barking, running, taunting, jumping, and stampeding have all been a part of the day. But the day has also included cuddling, using-me-as-a-yoga-stand (Mox), snuggling, and purring. And lots of my talking to them as though they could understand me, and their making all kinds of noises as though I could understand them. And those bits are worth so very much.
My grandmother was right. I really don’t know what I would do without them.
It would seem that Mrs. Obama’s birthday party won’t be serving dinner. OH THE HORROR! And my god, the invites actually said, “Eat before you come”…
When you’re a kid, birthday parties consist of two things: cake and party favors. When you’re an adult, it is the same, except the party favors tend to be alcoholic. You tell people that there will be no dinner. You especially tell parents of small children that they should eat ahead of time, because it’s going to be cake and party favors.
Advising guests that it is “snacks” and not dinner, and even flat out saying, “eat first, cause we’re not having a damn state dinner here” – isn’t tacky – it’s fucking courteous as hell. We’ve all been to some social event where there was less food than anticipated. It’s not fun. You’re trying to be pleasant and sociable, but you’re hungry and cranky because you didn’t eat something ahead of time, because no one took the time to make it clear that you should eat ahead of time. You don’t feel comfortable destroying the cheese plate in the corner and you end up standing around and counting down the minutes until you can leave and hit the nearest Taco Bell drive-thru.
And let’s face it, Mrs. Obama will probably have a few more “snacks” than Rotel’s Famous Queso dip and homemade Chex Mix. (Though she should definitely have both of those, because they’re delicious.) But I see absolutely nothing wrong with the First Lady telling her social secretary, “Look, I don’t care if you have to put “eat before you come” on the invitations, make it clear as fucking day that we’re not having dinner, cause I am in no mood to listen to people whine afterwards over the fact that there wasn’t dinner.” (Because you know there would be someone that would bitch about it.)
Clarity FTW.
Honestly, I don’t know how people who live any farther north manage to actually function during winter.
This was the scene outside most of the day. Grey, nasty, icky, wet and generally disgusting. This type of weather is not conducive to doing anything but eating or sleeping. Maybe reading if you can stay awake long enough once you’ve gotten into a comfortable position on the couch. It’s just…blech.
Aruba’s motto is “One Happy Island” and I think at least one tiny bit of it can be attributed to the fact that in the middle of January, it’s in the 80s and they get 2 more hours of sun than we’re getting up here. It’s gotta help just a little bit.
I keep reminding myself that the days are in fact getting longer and daylight savings time will get here in a mere 54 days. In the meantime, I have every swinging light on in the house, electric bill be damned. It’s not easy being solar powered in the winter.
So, I got these in my Christmas stocking this year. They’re quite yummy and good when you just want a little bit of chocolate and not an entire candy bar.
However, they also are the same color and shape as these.
This is not a problem for me, because I can read. Lily, while a wonderful cat, cannot read.
Which leads to this. 
And this.
Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. Hate me because I will walk around the counters and knock things off when I think it is dinner time.
It would seem that there is a Velveeta shortage!!
Now, before we go any further, please keep any Velveeta hate to yourself. I understand it is certainly not everyone’s cup of tea. But I also think you can love a wonderful smoked gouda and still appreciate the place that Velveeta has in our society.
Now, I’ll admit, my first thought was, “How the hell do you end up with a Velveeta shortage?” But demand and manufacturing don’t always sync up perfectly, and if Kraft is using just-in-time supply chains, those could have easily gotten screwed up with the winter weather. So, that’s how you run out of Velveeta.
One friend said she thought it was a marketing stunt, but that didn’t make any sense to me. (Though it did work in that it got me thinking about cheese dip.) In this day and age of leaked documents and disgruntled employees, a faked shortage would be outed in no time at all. And the article says they haven’t gotten any reports of customers coming up empty on their Velveeta shopping escapades, so it’s a shortage that hasn’t hit the shelves yet. So, why bother even mentioning it?
I have two options: The positive person in me thinks that Kraft is just trying to give their customers a heads-up that they may need a Velveeta contingency plan. The cynic in me thinks, yeah, that short-term sales spike will be nice as everyone cries, “Damn, get the Velveeta now, cause if we wait until Super Bowl weekend, it will be gone!” Either way – we’ve got a impending Velveeta shortage, people!
Now, if you’re still thinking, “What the hell do people do with Velveeta anyway?” – I give you two very tasty options.
Cheesy Awesomeness.
The first is cheesy salsa dip. Take your Velveeta, cut it up into small pieces, throw in some salsa, microwave it until it’s all melty and eat it with sour cream and chips. (I did not steal the picture, it’s from an old blog of mine.) The second is what my brother and his college roommates refer to as “Super Happy Fun Dip” which is a brick of Velveeta and a can of Hormel chili all mixed up and melted. It’s damn good, too.
So, RUN, don’t walk to your nearest market and GET THE VELVEETA BEFORE IT’S ALL GONE. No, wait, scratch that. Go to the store after I go get my Velveeta, because damned if I don’t really want some cheese dip.
Well played, Kraft. Well played.
Lily: Better than slippers. Carmen, just being cute.
Lily has perfected the art of staying warm.
Today’s high was 47º – not too bad. Now it’s currently 16º and the projected low for tonight is 3º. The projected high for tomorrow is a whopping 17º. With windchills, it will feel as low as -13º. The Polar Vortex is inbound. (Is it just me or does Polar Vortex sound like a comic book villain?)
The normal high/low for the area for this time of year is a high of 44º with a low of 27º.
Schools are closed tomorrow, and if I had to go out and do the office grind, I know I would be incredibly disgruntled about it. (Thank god for grad school, and if tomorrow’s weather isn’t incentive to come up with a home-office freelance-life in the future, I’m not sure what is.)
I have heard grumbling about the schools being closed, but we just don’t normally get temps this low around here. There are going to be buses that refuse to start. Schools where the heat decides to crap out. And one thing that everyone seems to keep forgetting is that there are kids that just do not have the kind of cold weather gear needed for going out and standing around waiting for a bus in these temperatures. Sure, your family may go skiing every year and has all kinds of cold weather gear. Or you used to live in Colorado, or Montana or somewhere like that. But that isn’t everyone in this county by any stretch of the imagination. I don’t even have the kind of cold weather gear needed to stand outside and wait for a bus in 3º weather.
Sure, it’s an inconvenience whenever the schools have an unscheduled closing. But I think frostbite is more inconvenient. I don’t understand why parents would be upset about the county erring on the side of safety and caution. Hell, one of our local restaurants announced earlier that they would be closing at 7PM tonight and wouldn’t reopen until Wednesday. If a profit-motivated business feels it’s not safe for their employees, why would you fault the county for trying to keep the kids safe?
Disgruntled Dog
Now, I’ve got a disgruntled resident in my house as well. Moxley does not like the wind unless he can be outside in it playing Wild Dog of the Tundra, and he’s on a 5 minute outside time limit for the time being. (Left to his own devices, he will just park himself on the deck for an inordinate amount of time, which is fine on a late spring evening. Tonight, not so much.) He also isn’t terribly fond of my new camera.
Stay warm, folks.
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Musings of a marginally sane feline-appreciating female. 