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Saturday, February 23, 2013

Short Story Saturday ~ Confessions of the Crazy Dog Lady's Cat



 Confession:  I Am The Crazy Dog Lady's Cat
by Doctor "Indy" Jones

     I was very young when The Lady brought me to her home.  I remember going for a short car ride, being wrapped in a blue blanket, and then shuffled into an awaiting vehicle for yet another short drive.  When we got to what would be my new home, I could smell the dog before the vehicle even stopped moving.  I should say dogs, plural.  The scents wafting through the open window were diverse and numerous, but strongly overpowered by the stench of dogs.  Humans always like to talk about how great a dog's sense of smell is, as if cats can't smell at all.  It's very annoying.  We felines do indeed have a very good nose and are easily offended by strong odors.  But, I digress...  I was speaking to you of home.  I'd only known one prior home that I'd shared with my mother and siblings.  This new home was unfamiliar to me and a bit nerve wracking.  I was so small, you see, and the barking was so loud.

     My new home was to be shared with several dogs.  Three seem to be permanent fixtures while others come and go.  I learned later on that The Lady is on a mission to rescue dogs from being unloved and unwanted.  Too bad her mission isn't to rid them of their pungent smell.  Truly, have you smelled a dog before?  Atrocious.  Why they seem so intent on sniffing their butts is beyond me.  They sniffed mine right away.  I hope they got a good whiff of what I'd had for lunch.  Tuna.  I love it so.  Rather, I did, once upon a time. 
      Back then, I'd been called Dr. Jones.  There seemed to be something humorous about that name that I never understood.  I vaguely remember the young woman that named me that, but do not remember why it invoked giggles whenever she spoke it.  I received a new name along with my new home and new companions.  The Lady calls me Indy.  It's a strange name, but at least it isn't Fluffy or some other frou-frou name.  I'd hoped to be named Tiger.  It's a noble and proud name among my kind.  Things like my name mattered to me back when I was still a cat.  
      I am not sure when it happened but at some point, I began to think and act just like them- those smelly, yapping, dogs.  It happened gradually I suppose.  I admit I was curious about their food.  It smelled interesting and had a strange new texture.  I just wanted to experience life and all it had to offer.  I didn't expect to like it.  I liked it.  A lot.  Flavors I'd never encountered lit up my palette in a parade of splendid delight.  After that, I turned my nose up to the Special Kitty that The Lady presented me with thrice daily.  Eating fish shaped kibble that tasted nothing like the real thing grew old quickly.  I began sneaking food from the dog's bowls.
     Stealing food from a dog is not easy when there are multiple dogs.  I always had to concoct an elaborate plot and cause some sort of terrific diversion.  One time, I waited until The Lady had gone to get a jug of water and I nipped the short blind dog on the bottom.  I admit, it was rather childish and not at all moral of me.  After Blackie had retreated under the bed, I had to contend with the dumb one, Sookie.  Oh, she's something to behold.   I suspect she was dropped on her head by her mother.  Canines carry their young in their mouths, just as cats do, but with less grace and precision.  You should see her try to walk on linoleum flooring.  I was able to chase her from the room by kicking a tennis ball into the hallway.  The other dog, they call her Sadie, she is not to be toyed with.  She doesn't seem to mind if I eat from the bowls as long as it is not her bowl.  She's best left to gobble from her bowl as I hurry to grab a bite or two before the others return.  All that for a mouthful of bacon-cheeseburger-flavored bliss.
     It might have been the food, or the atmosphere of living in the home of an obvious dog lover, or maybe it just rubbed off on me in some sort of unfortunate osmosis.  I began chasing tennis balls, coming when humans whistled, and bolting towards the kitchen at the sound of a crinkling cheese wrapper.  It wasn't long before I found myself participating in the undesirable ritual of butt-sniffing.  I'm not proud of myself.  I'm not sure how it happened.  I have no idea what to do about it.  It's only a matter of time before I begin drinking out of the toilet. 
     On television there is a man called The Dog Whisperer.  I never spoke dog before, and was never exactly fluent in human, but the whispering of the man and the reaction of the dogs began to mess with my head.  This further exacerbated my identity crisis.  I no longer feel like a cat.  Help is needed immediately, but I know not where to turn.  Is there a cat whisperer?  




© 2013 D.M. Kilgore

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Friday, February 22, 2013

Fun Friday ~ Have You Seen My Butt?


It's another "Fun" Friday and after the week I've had... fun is just what I need.  Sadly, I'm too mentally wore out to even understand the concept of "fun" today.  So, we are doing something fabulous and taking a "mental health" day.  How fun is that?  Well, it works for me.  I plan to do mindless activities that require very little brain power.  With any luck by tomorrow I'll be ready to tackle life again.  If not, then I shall extend this "day off" until... 

After all, next week is finals, taxes, and taking on a massive home improvement project.




So instead of fun, how about funny? 




Let me tell you a funny little secret.  It's about my butt.  And by funny, I mean humorously insightful.  And by secret, I mean true story--  that I probably shouldn't elaborate on, but am going to anyway.

You can't wait, right?  

 

A Fun Friday look inside my brain on a day when it's clearly put out the "Out Of Order" sign.

I spend a lot of time reading.  Okay, that's no secret, and it's not funny, but it's true.

If I have a spare thirty seconds, I'm reaching for a book.  I read sitting down.  Not running a marathon.  I have a stack of "currently reading" piled up next to me (ironically on the treadmill) at this very moment.  I'm not exaggerating, (goes to count).  Yep, twenty-nine books at arms reach.
I also write sitting down.  I've recently found out that a lot of writers stand up to write!  Whoa, what a concept.  I don't think I'd like standing in one spot for that long.

But, the truth is...

All of this reading and writing finds me sitting on my butt.  A lot.  Sitting on my butt a lot is making me wider by the word count.  Something has gotta give!

It's not that I don't want to exercise.

I love some types of exercise.  No, really I do!

I miss those evening runs with my music.  Just me, the road, and my tunes.  When did my commitment to finishing the book override my commitment to get in shape?  Not sure, but it's happened.  Just look at my butt.  I can't deny it.  It's wider.  Even as the pounds fall off one or two at a time... I'm spreading in all the wrong places.  Sure, it might be a "40" thing, but I think I have figured out the real culprit.

I'm on my rapidly spreading booty about 14 hours a day.  Yeah.   If you sit on your butt for a long period of time your butt will reward you by taking on the shape of your desk chair.  I recently learned about the magic of yoga pants.  I can look like that "working it" mama... even if the only thing I'm working on is my magically expanding posterior.

Epiphany!  I swapped my desk chair for a large exercise ball.  


Did it work?  Well...  Don't get me wrong-- it was fun bouncing up and down on it while I edited my latest masterpiece.  I'm a fidgeter.  Bouncing beats chewing on my fingers.  I just spent more time rolling and bouncing around than I did balancing to build my abs.  So, no... it didn't really work for me.  Oh, and note to the wise, this is not a preferred seat if you use a laptop- that you actually place on your lap.  I won't even explain.  Use your imagination.

Secret:  My dad wanted to rename me Grace.


Yep, I've become that woman.

Did I comb my hair today?  *Pony-Tail-Time* 

Make-up?  Why?  Are we having unexpected company?

Mascara and lip gloss take effort to apply, ya know!  It sometimes takes three whole minutes to get it right.  Who has time for that?


In three minutes I can make two cups of coffee.


Bra? What's that?  Oh, you mean the "going-out-in-public-mammary-restraining-device". Gotcha.

Wearing a bra means washing a bra.  Washing a bra wears it out.  So logically, I'm making my bras last longer by only wearing one when I leave the house.  Those things are expensive, ya know!

Don't judge me... I'm a Domestically-Challenged Super Mom. 

I've started savoring those unexpected quiet moments, as I sit un-groomed and bra-less at the computer.  I focus better when it's quiet around me.  Doesn't everyone?

Instead of investigating why the dogs and/or kids are so quiet-- even though I know the answer won't be a good one...

I just tell myself, "I'll go see what they are up to in five minutes."

Sure, there might be a huge mess to clean up later, but right now this blissful peace and quiet, so rare, so glorious... totally worth it!  Until I see the actual mess that my bliss was purchased with.

Calgon, take me away.  

 


Pfft.  It's going to take more than Calgon, my friend.


My days begin and end the same.

It looks a lot like this.
Only... there are yoga pants.
And piles of books on the floor.
And dogs everywhere.
And kids running about.

Is there a barista in the house?


 So, is there any hope for me?  For my butt?  

Why, yes.  Yes there is.  You see, I don't have time to make time to exercise.  I am booked solid.  Schedule full.  No wiggle room.  That's all there is to it.  The only way to "fix" this problem is to find a way to multi-task.  I must exercise while I work.  It's going to take more than swapping my chair for an exercise ball.  It's going to take more than standing in one spot while typing up my manuscript.  I've got to move it, move it.

Oh boy.  Yep, it's in your head now, right?

 

 But I digress...

 We were talking about my butt.

 

 

New game plan.  Have you heard of the TrekDesk?  Oh, it's so dandy I can hardly stand it.  But look at that price!  $500.00.

So, I've Googled "Treadmill Desks" and gotten some great do-it-yourself ideas.  Much cheaper, can I get a "heck yeah!", ahem.  I like cheaper.

I am going to make it a new law up in here.  

If I am writing, I'm doing it walking.  

That goes for all computer time.  



Work or fun-- I'm doing it walking.

 

Think of the possibilities!  


14 hours a day... on my butt at my PC... transformed into 14 hours of walking a day!

Let me put this in perspective for you.

The idea of tread-working is that you set your speed at 1mph and you just walk while you work.  Some people say that 1mph is too slow and that 2 or 3 mph is more comfortable for them.  I'll have to try this out to determine my best speed.  But, for the sake of this "A-HA" moment, let's just stick to 1 mph.  Now then, 14 hours at my PC for lesson planning, some homeschool work, my online college work, writing, researching, and playing (Facebook, etc), at 1 mph.  Are you ready for this?

14 hours walking at 1mph = 2,412 Calories Burned

I work (and play) Monday - Saturday.

2,412 calories burned per day X 6 days a week 


14,472 Calories Burned Per Week.



Are we having fun yet?

 

Oh yes.

Look out butt...  I'm coming for you.  With sneakers on!

 

I might even make a rule that all reading has to happen on the recumbent bike.
After all, 2 hours on a stationary bike = 500 calories burned.

Who's laughing now,  butt?

 TRUTH:



Secret:

I have no junk in my trunk.


I've always wanted a butt.  
I'm just using this whole thing as a diversion tactic 
so that my real enemy, my gut, doesn't catch on.  

Shhh!  Don't tell.

So, when is all this "reworking" my writing room to include a tread-desk going down?  Well, "Just Friends" is on, and I have this bag of Peanut M&M's here, so lets' muse about it Monday, okay?

It'll happen.  I'm stubborn like that.  But today?  Today is my "out of order" day, and vegging out in front of some Ryan Reynolds movie is just what the doctor ordered.

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Tune in tomorrow for Short Story Saturday!



Fun Friday
 Brought to you by a rebellious blue monkey 
who didn't even proofread or spell check this bad boy!

Come on, we're talking Ryan Reynolds people.

*makes kissy face monkey noises at the t.v.*










Thursday, February 21, 2013

Thougtful Thursday ~ Be Generous!

 

Today's Thoughtful Thursday is short and sweet.  

Stop what you are doing.  

Now, think about your favorite non-profit.  

Accept this challenge:

Please Donate $10 to Your Favorite Nonprofit!

 

As you know I have many favorite causes.

I chose one at random.

I'll be donating my $10 to:

 

Ian Somerhalder Foundation

 

And If You Comment Below: 

"LOVE" and the name of your favorite non-profit

I'll choose one winner and match your donation to your favorite non-profit!