Timing is as important as a positive attitude!
It’s cold, damp, windy — so light a fire, put on some sweats, put flannel sheets on the bed, have a warm bath, drink some hot chocolate and make life feel cozy! Take what life gives and make it better!
fnord
PrairiePopulistsAndProgressives.net 
If your really bored this morning
http://angrybear.blogspot.com/
lots of good work on health care economy ect.
Aiming Higher: Results from a State Scorecard on Health System Performance, 2009:
Click to access State_Scorecard_data_tables_2009_COMPLETE.pdf
USA today reports the Republicans may be breaking up on health care reform.
http://www.usatoday.com/news/washington/2009-10-07-gop-healthcare_N.htm
Ugh. You guys can be glad you arent here today. Cold, dark and freezing rain. And I have to drive to Salina in it.
Summer wants to know when we’re moving back to Texas!
Getting up has never been easy for me, mainly thinking is hard. The old eight cylinders are only firing on about 3 and a half. If asked right after getting up what my name is will get a blank stare as I try to recall it.
This morning was the happening of have a new cat in the house and they do not think any better.
I stumbled into the family room and suddenly felt the squish under my foot as I stepped onto the rug on that floor.
My mind firing on only three and a half cylinders, I stopped and stood there.
Trying to think of what it could be?
Soft and cold, spreading across the bottom of my bare foot.
My eyes still in that half blur of newly awoken.
The mind in it malfunctioning thought process trying to run through all he possibilities of what it was I just stepped in.
Then finally the thought became clear, it had been some years since this had occurred.
The animals we have, have been with us for several years and know certain rules of cohabiting with us.
BUT then there is Tiger, a black and gray strip that is new to the house.
For the most part, the cats tend to stay outside.
It has been several years since the last litter box sat in the corner of the basement.
With morning mind there are only a select few pre-reactions in place.
My wife has compared them to being liken to a wounded bear.
For now even the neighbors are kind of wondering if they should be living in fear.
I know that Cats are of that opinion, along with mom’s dog and mom was grateful her bus arrived shortly afterwards.
I love animals, perhaps even more then I do humans.
My mind has since started firing on at least seven cylinders.
There were no animals hurt in this little morning play, they scattered like the people of a little village with the rumbling warning of a volcano erupting. Fleeing in terror and hiding until there was a opening to run through.
Tiger still has a home but will be keeping a watchful eye at my approach.
The rug is now resting on a lawn chair on the patio until I get around to cleaning it.
My mind and my little World is getting back to a sense of normal.
Soon I will get back to the remodeling project I started, long over due and needed to have some sense of humanity in the house.
LOL FYI, do you know the hardest part of the foot to get cat crap off of?
I do!
“through all he possibilities”
Should have been
“through all the possibilities”
Sorry
Brad Paisley?
Good. Something I won’t want to spend money to see.
Good luck, Intrust Arena.
More info on the show wicked mentions above:
http://www.intrustbankarena.com/news/44
On the above page, they claim they can get 15K people into the arena – I thought they fell short of that figure.
Does Taylor Swift impress the wicked more?
http://blogs.kansas.com/haveyouheard/2009/10/08/no-foolin-taylor-swift-to-play-intrust-bank-arena-april-1/
I am deferring to your expertise on country and western acts, because I have never seen one. Assuming, that the Walnut Valley bluegrass festival does not qualify for a C & W act – which I don’t think it does.
I don’t even know who Taylor Swift is. My youngest isn’t impressed with her.
Having seen George (Strait) and Garth (Brooks), and even Colin Raye in concert, neither Brad Paisley nor Ms Swift rock my boat.
I was being snarky about Mr. Paisley. I’m not sure I have a clue who he is. I think he came along after I stopped listening to Country. I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head that I would be enticed to see at the ridiculous amounts I expect will be charged. I once thought maybe Streisand, but those prices are usually out of this world. However, Elton John might qualify some mulling over.
If Country is the only venue the arena is offering, they’ve lost my money. To be honest, I don’t enjoy concerts much anymore. Maybe I’m just too old to have my ears blasted to smithereens. 🙂
Sorry, wicked, getting old sucks, does it not?
I didn’t go to the Rolling Stones concert for this reason.
Oh well…
Ah, the intersection of bare feet and cat crap!
Some years ago, when I lived in Olathe, my daughter and her two cats moved in with me during a rough (unplanned pregnancy) period of time.
I lived in a tri-level home and had cut a passage in the steps to the garage so my cats could access the basement and the litter box.
That all worked fine, except unbeknown to us, Sebastian was too big to fit through the opening.
That first night, I was walking to my bedroom on the top floor. I kept the light out in the hall, so as not to disturb my son.
As I turned my doorknob, I felt the unmistakable squish of cat crap between my toes.
I yelled “god damn it!” and flipped on the light.
There was Sebastian, reading glasses on, newspaper in paws, mid-defecation. My yell startled him, and he turned to run. As he fled, he fired a turd at me that hit me on the back of my calf.
After that, we didn’t see Sebastian for a few days. As for me, I hopped to my shower and scrubbed off the cat poop.
Dee had to clean up the hall.
I had a cat named Sebastian. A black and white tuxedo cat. I gave him to my mom, along with Vincent, a huge gray and white, that was Sebastian’s older half brother. Their mother was not the prettiest cat, but she had beautiful babies. 🙂
Sebastian did not like my kids. He’d hide under a bed, and when the kids would try to get to him, he’d smack them with his paw. Damned hard smacker, he was! Lucky for the kids, he’d had his front paws declawed.
tstb, we’ll be welcoming a new cat this weekend. Chelsea has warned me that she’s bringing home a little black male kitten. I’ve named him Prozac. I have a feeling he’ll need some. We already have two female tortoishell calicos, Tosca and Mocha, that look like mother and daughter but aren’t.
You haven’t lived until you have a cat that likes to crap in your running shoes! By the way, you generally don’t found out before that awful fact, only after! And, it doesn’t improve your running times.
It doesn’t improve your mood much, either.
don’t FIND out..
Here is one of the wildest cat story’s, my old leather jacket was hanging in the closet during the summer.
When the weather got cold enough to finally get it out to wear, no sooner then I put it on.
But the God awful smell hit my nose!
Cat urine…. One of those miserable hair balls had climb into the closet and into my jacket to pee!
Hanging on a hanger on the rack, it must have at least sat on the jacket with its butt over the opening on the front of the jacket.
You don’t just throw a leather jacket in the washer and to be honest even the dry cleaning did not get the smell out.
My roommate is the Kitty-est Kitty in the Whole Wide World. So I’m spoiled.
He seems to be all about preserving his dignity. I plied him with catnip once and immediately set out to find “people-nip.” If only I could feel that good.
A few days later I offered him another catnip toy and he wouldn’t have anything to do with it. He seemed to know it would make him silly and wanted no part of it anymore.
He’s also impervious to cat toys. He sees one and sighs and looks up at me with that “I see the stick, I see the string, and the feathers attached to it don’t interest me” look.
He’s all about the dignity of kitty-dom.
Heavy weighs the crown of the Kitty-est Kitty in the Whole Wide World.
This doesn’t mean he’s not affectionate. He frequently pounces on my lap to get simultaneously scratched at the base of his tail and his tummy. He tries to hide his excitement — like how David Vitter really tried to mask his affection for his dominatrix hooker who spanked him when he was wearing a diaper — but I know he really likes me for my personality.
The Kitty-est Kitty in the Whole Wide World sometimes joins me in bed and curls up next to me. He’s been a mostly indoor kitty except for when I lived in the Hollywood Hills and he’d go outside in the garden, jump the neighbor’s fence, and get in touch with his inner Pillow Panther and capture lizards. When I moved out I discovered far more dessicated lizard carcasses under the furniture than any human should see in a lifetime. The guy was the lizard Himmler, now that I think about it.
He brought home a fledgling sparrow one day and chased it all over the house before deciding it wasn’t worth the bother, curled up on the couch and licked his feet, and watched as I shooed the bird out the patio door. Again, the unspoken message from him was clear: “You have the opposable thumbs, and the broom. Deal with it.”
One morning I woke up to find him toying with a mouse. I had to leave for an early meeting and decided to pick up the mouse and toss him in the empty bathtub and close the door after my roommate as he followed it in to continue this session of “enhanced interrogation techniques.” When I got back a few hours later I opened the bathroom door and he trotted out without comment. (He usually comments.) In the bathtub was a mouse…nose. No other mouse parts; just the nose. I’m assuming it got too crunchy there at the end for him. Or got thirsty. (Did I tell you he prefers ice cubes in his water dish?)
Once I had to leave town for more than a week. I arranged for a kitty-sitter to stop by, clean the sandbox & stuff. She had a family emergency that drew her out of town but before she left she filled the dry-food dispenser and put out a bunch of water and extra sandboxes and he batched it for most of the time. When I returned I was properly chastised but he also seemed glad to see me.
Two days later I decided to fry an egg and turned on the stove. Turns out he’d pissed in all the burner pan on the stove. As soon as you turned on the heat, the entire place reeked of burning cat urine. As I was in the midst of the initial WTF? moment I looked over at the sofa where my roommate was calmly licking his feet.
I believe in the legitimacy of the aristocracy because I’m on staff of one who earns his living by being fuzzy. Sorta like Prince Charles.
Great post, MH! We can assume what, exactly???
That I’m pussy-whipped?
A reasonable description, I would say.