Aunty Spinster's Home For The Wayward, Part 1

I'm working on a new project. It's a sweater. But that's not the part that's important. What is important is that I'm at something of a crossroads. I guess you could say this all started one very normal-seeming night on August 3oth.

My roommate was getting home from a three-day trip to Colorado, during which he lost his keys. As it was 2 am he didn't want to wake me to unlock the door for him, and instead decided to break into the house through the kitchen window. Yeah, guess what? Noise coming from the kitchen at 2 am, when I knew I was the only one home? Totally woke me up. Anywho, after I called out and he announced his presence, I feel right back to sleep. Then it was morning and I got up to feed the cats.

Only Booger didn't come running to the sound of food tinkling into the food dish. Which I thought was a bit odd. But as my roommate's new girlfriend had slept over, I thought Booger was just weirded out by the strange person in the house. It was only after the two of them left for the day, and Booger still hadn't shown up, that I realized something was Terribly Wrong.

I'll just fast-forward a bit here, as it basically involves me Losing My Shit. And by that I mean freaking out, walking the neighborhood in my pajamas knocking on neighbors doors without a bra on, and then standing in middle of my living room crying and leaving repeated messages on peoples' cell phones (people I KNEW were at work, but at the time it made no difference).

I did manage to go to work, but I begged and threatened to go home early. Seeing as I was totally irrational and barely functioning, they let me. So I pull into my driveway, and see that the bowl of food I had left outside had not been touched. At all. And the tiny little scrap of control that I actually managed to hold onto all day was just gone.

There I am, standing in my driveway at 10 o'clock at night (hmmm, sound familiar ?), crying, and I say out loud, "You're never coming back, are you?"

And then...

...I hear...

a "mrwow"

That's what Booger says, "mrwow." Not "meow." Not anything close, just "mrwow"

ZOMFG! He had actually come home! And he came slinking out to me, and was all, "Sweet Baby Je'asus, Woman! Where in the He'all have you been!?" Get me back in that house!" Yes...just like that, in a Southern Accent.

And all was right in my world again.....At least until my roommate came home and told me he was moving out 6 months shy of the expiration of our lease.

To be Continued...

The Blog That Time Forgot

Wow. Sometimes Life happens to ya, and it smacks ya right on your ass.

I got tagged.

Booger went missing. Booger came home!

My roommate is moving out.

Spent some time with Buckie, saw his first smiles.

Had first Auntie-and-Pickle Day.

New roommate moving in. After I clean the house top to bottom to remove all traces of the former (douche-bag) roommate.

And the Spiders! Oh God, THE SPIDERS!

All this and more to come....

The Pull Of The Moon

Yesterday was one of those days when everything is just slightly off-kilter. I had an appointment that went less than smoothly. I went to work, and had to deal with being short-staffed.

And then I finally get home after a long long long day, and my Laurence Olivier collection had finally arrived UPS, and I'm so excited that something finally went right, and that was when LullaBelle decided to escape what she would call her "incarceration." Apparently, having someone feed you on a regular basis, provide you with many sunny window ledges in which to nap, and clean facilities just isn't worth it when that moon pulls to your baser animal side.

I saw her make a mad dash under my roommate's car, and I really couldn't see a damn thing, but I didn't want to go in the house to turn on a light as I was afraid she might take that as an opportunity to run into the street.

So there I am, at 11:30 pm, out in my dark driveway, nearly on my hands and knees pleading, "Please don't do this to me today, of all days, I just can't take any more today, just don't make this difficult for me!" When I hear this, "Uh, are you OK?"

Apparently, I was loud enough that my neighbor, who I've never actually met, heard me and thought I was having some sort of altercation in my driveway. It was super nice that he actually came over to make sure I was alright, I just felt like a total idiot when he saw me on the ground and I'm all, "Oh, yeah, my cat escaped. She's under the car, my cat is. She won't come out. She's really hard to see, but she's under there. Really." If it wasn't against ordinance, I imagine he'd be out first thing working on a privacy fence.

Sing it, Bob Geldof; "Tell me why I don’t like Mondays. I wanna shoo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oot the whole day down"

That Monday Smell

For maybe the fifth day in a row, I woke up at 6:30. In The AM! As this was not the time my alarm was set to go off, I went back to sleep. And, same as it was for the last few days, when my alarm did go off I had a really hard time getting out of bed. So I snoozed.

But today was just slightly different, in that what finally got me out of bed was a very peculiar odor. Investigation lead me to Louie, who was curled up on my chest. She smelled like a very large man had rubbed his ass all over her. It was less than lovely.

Her paws were wet, and that's where the smell was coming from. So now, every one of the wet little paw prints she left on my comforter smells like ass. Now I'm tired, mad, and off to investigate.

I found the source of the ass smell. And at this point, I'm just going to remind everybody that I live with a Boy, not a boy I'm dating, not even a boy I'm friends with, just a Boy. And this Boy had left an Open Can Of Chicken On The Counter All Night. Is there anything more disgusting than canned Chicken!? Yes. Yes, there is--12 hour old canned chicken juice.

One the one hand, my cats are just well-behaved enough that they know better than to jump on the kitchen counter. My good little Booger, didn't touch the tempting rancid chicken juice. But Louie, she's got a little rebellious streak.

Louie The Mighty

Last night there was yet another spider in my room. This was a fortunate spider, he was out of my reach to smoosh. I was a little bit freaked out to go to sleep knowing that it was lurking on my ceiling. Just out of reach, waiting for me to go to sleep so that it could walk all over parts of my uncovered body. When I began to imagine him doing some eight-legged version of Fosse, I realized I might never get to sleep. Then I saw LulaBelle out of the corner of my eye.

She was perfectly still, and I knew she had spotted the vermin. She scaled a stack of boxes, and stood up on her hind legs reaching as far as she could, and she SMACKED that arachnid! My little defender!

Moving in Nine Bruises Or Less

The Move, it is almost Finished! I thought it would never be over, but it nearly is. Thank Baby Jesus.

I just don't feel ready to talk about this experience yet. I may never be ready. All I know is my Bro is helping me move the last of the big furniture (aka, my amazing bed) out of the old house, and into the Dreamboat's house. Because it will not fit into the new place. But at least I can go and visit it.

For the moment, the cats have only emerged from under the bed for very brief moments when I sing to them. Which somewhat illustrates their state of mind(s). You would know what this means if you've ever heard me sing.

Terror Tuesday

I was really hesitant to post this, as being a potential bunny-killer is not something you should bandy about. But, it is my life and this is my blog so here it is.

I stayed over and slept late. If I had not stayed over, or if I had gotten out of bed when I was supposed to, the following would not have taken place.

Since I was the last to leave, I let the dog out. She was good for a bit, then she started barking. Turns out a bunny had crawled into a flower bed and was trapped behind a fence. So the dog is chasing it, but can't get to it. But then she found the hole in the fence and busted through to corner the bunny. So this Mighty Black Labrador Hunter has the prey cornered, and she's a little confused about exactly what is supposed to happen next. I used this as my opportunity to grab the scruff of her neck.

She went with me perfectly willingly into the house. But by this time the BunBun was so tweaked, it was sprawled out in the snow, in shock. With the dog in the house, I went back to check on it. And, I shouldn't be typing this, but I may have poked it with a stick to see if it was alive. It looked at me like, "Really? Like I haven't been through ENOUGH shit today."

The adorable lab is completely blameless in this situation, as she was running on instinct. I was able to restrain her quite easily, and this just proves how she is a Very Well Behaved Dog. The new human in her life, unfortunately, apparently has nothing resembling an "instinct" and this morning very nearly Lost Her Shit worrying about the life or death struggle of a garden pest.

Morning Breath Is Different When It's Not Your Bed

Somebody was On My List on Feb. 13. But by Feb. 14, that same somebody decided to take a Big Boy Pill. And you know what? He survived.

He survived sleeping-The Whole Night-at my house. And the cats didn't hassle him too much. They like him very much and were on their best behavior. Not once did Booger body-slam his face. Which makes me think that's a Very Special Activity that he reserves only for my morning wake-up call.

Hard Exterior Reveals Chocolate Filling

Ok, Ok, you got me....I am actually looking forward to V-Day this year. The Dread Valentine's Day, as I've thought of it in years' past, is not so dreaded this time around.

Last year it was a day of endings, as it was the day of Grandpa's funeral. But this year I'm looking at it as a day of beginnings. It's the day I'll be signing my new lease. And I'll be spending it with the Dreamboat and his Funny Dog. I'm bringing over a cotton blend yarn, just for her to sniff. Color? Why red, of course.

Public Apology

It seems that I owe an apology to one very cute, very smart dog. When she found out about my post, she got a little offended. She may have been a little embarrassed that I shared that story to the Internets. I found out from her human that she has started using some foul language. This has to stop, Good Dogs don't use bad words.

I think she may have misinterpreted my meaning. I like her so much that I've made her part of this blog. If fact, I'm delighted she shares my appreciation for yarn. I'm just not as uninhibited to sniff it (at least, not in front of anyone).

Dogs Are Weird

Last night I went to the Dreamboat's house to hide from the Blues. The Blues have chosen a prime spot above my bed, so that whenever I lay down my head, I'm completely overwhelmed. I warned him that I wasn't up for much conversation, and that I really just wanted to knit. He was fine with that, told me to bring it over and we could just watch a movie.

It was kind of a big deal, as I've never actually brought knitting over before (and no, that's not some kind of metaphor). But we both snuggled in, and it was comfortable. That's the only way to describe it. Until his dog made things a little awkward....

She shoved her snout right into my yarn bag in inhaled so deeply I thought we were going to be pulling strings out of her nose. What a weird dog. The cats love the yarn. They sit on it and bat it around, but they certainly don't try to inhale it. To this dog, orange wool-blend yarn is like crack, and she couldn't get enough. She just sat at my feet and stared intently at my hands, watching every little move I made. Very unnerving, I tell you.

This is probably why I'm a cat person.

Holiday Come Down

Here's Pickle in his Christmas Best.

I hope that Santa was good to you all. I got the humidifier I asked for. Not so exciting, you may think. But I'll tell ya what else isn't so exciting--weekly nosebleeds in my extremely dry house.

I'm recovering from the copious amounts of sugar I consumed--in the guise of holiday cookies. My sister, who looks most like my mom, also cooks like my mom (i.e. Deliciousness). She brought over two of my favorites--homemade toffee and seven layer cookies. Add to that the fudge and other sweets my mom made, and it feels like I came back to the D with an extra 10lbs.

These guys waited all night for Santa. Guess the Big Guy just doesn't like cats.

Seriously Folks, Consider The Cat....

Remember my Plan To Fix The Economy? Dudes! Seriously, it's a sound plan. Just check out what Dewey did for the town of Spencer, Iowa. (Do you really need me to link? Ever heard of Google? "Dewey Readmore Books" try it yourselves, chickies.) He has his own book!

(By they way? You should read this book. The writing isn't award-winning prose, but it's from the heart and a really great story.)

And what about all the hype that's surrounding the Obama's new pet? OK, so maybe the Presidential pet should be the mascot of America, but I think you should all consider Bogart (aka Booger).

You think I'm joking, but look at that poise. Such dignity, such presence! America needs a feel good story. Booger is a feel good kind of kitty.
And dare I forget Lula. She could be VP Mascot. Handeling all the sneaky, behind the scenes mascot buisness...

Farm Livin' is the Life For Me

The trip up North was great. Getting there was the hard part.

First off, I left many hours later than I wanted to. When I did finally get on the road, I pulled up to a gas station and realized I had left my debit card in my name tag. At the store. Which is something I NEVER do, because I KNOW that I would forget it there. Well, I did and I did.

So I had to drive to the store (I'll admit it, I dawdled), and finally got on the road.

The drive was uneventful, which is always a good thing. And I finally made it to the farm. And for the next 36 hours I didn't have to leave the house.

My mom made this really amazing dinner. So much food.

Exhibit A: turkey coma victim #1, Rufus
Exhibit B: turkey coma victim #2, Sophie

The (Other) Cat Has Something To Say

So, I've hit a little roadblock in regards of what to post. I could go with the ol' standby of pictures of Pickle, but I'm sure you are all tired of that shitck. So, I was sitting at my desk, staring at the screen, when Lula offered to write something for me today. And without further adeu, making her debut, I give you LullaBelle (aka Louie)---

She Who Feeds has been spotty in her quest to complete NaBloPoMo. Since I do not want her to become a failure, I must step in. I do adore her, as She is the one Who Feeds, and she understands that a lap is my rightfull napping place. But sometimes she is a little lacking. As in the area of giving Treats. Also, she does not allow me to lick her. This sometimes hurts my feelings.

No introductions should be necessary, but since she has only ever written about that knucklehead...Booger...I, LullaBelle Catterina, am very pleased to meet you, Internets. You may address me as "Tsarina". Or Princess Kitty. That will do nicely.

Despite what she says, she doesn't like you. I like you. Bring me treats. And CatNip. She Who Feeds is also She Who Rations The Happy Cat Weed.

To the One Who Lives In The Room I Can't Go In: You have, on occasion, brushed me. And that is nice, but I know that you know where the CatNip is. I am holding you just as responsible for the rationing. But I will sit on you, as you are warm and you sing to me. And this is what I deserve.

As for The Booger, I am the Special One, he is the "Special" one. But he is my best friend, so only I am allowed to say mean things to him. Because he is bigger than me and he chases me, and words are my only defense. Words and sneak attacks.

And to the One Who Occasionally Visits. I sit on your lap and I allow you to pet me. You let me lick you even when She Who Feeds says "no," and that is nice. But you smell funny and should bring treats.

It's How You Spell Relief

I woke up this morning to a sense of relief. The election is over, so I won't upset your sensitive little eyes with my liberal drivel any longer. Except maybe just this little bit. It's an excerpt from President Elect Obama's (it just feels so good to say that!) speech last night.

"And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote tonight, but I hear your voices. I need your help. And I will be your president, too."

It just gives me chills. But in a really good way. And now back to the normal tone of this blog, and my life--

Relief, also because I found this snack bar at my local Trader Joe's. I think this might just revolutionize my mornings.



I think my good mood may be contagious. This morning, both cats were snuggled up together on my bed. I've never seen them that cozy before. Even Booger and Lulla are working for a more united home.

My Plan To Fix The Economy

This cat helped to "pump $10 million into the local economy." Of course, that was in Japan. But still...

I nominate one Bogart "Booger" Stinkerburgher as the new mascot for America.


Just picture him in a "jaunty" hat. Come on, you KNOW that would boost tourism in America. Problem solved! He's proven himself to be punctual. He's sort of an Every-Cat we can all get behind.

By the way, my new favorite word is now "jaunty."

The Wonderful Thing About Boogers....

This little Booger saved my behind yesterday. I set my alarm wrong, and instead of going off at 5:30am, it was set to go off at 5:30pm. But, somehow, he decided to belly flop on my face at about 5:45am.

Not that I'd advise anyone to run out and get a Booger alarm. His prefered method of getting attention is to slam his 17lb fuzzy body onto my face. But it woke me up, and the day was saved. By Booger.

"Get in mah Belleh!"

Lone Wolf? Um, Not So Much...

For almost One Whole Month, I lived alone. It was not as much fun as I thought it would be. I thought it would be loads of giggles to walk around naked, watch whatever I wanted on TV, stay up late and sleep in without anything to wake me.

The reality is, I was too paranoid people would try to look in thru closed blinds to walk around naked. I didn't have cable to watch whatever I wanted, and was pretty bored with the movies I owned. And the absolute quiet started to wear on my nerves.

But all is now right in the Universe, because a few days ago my new roommate moved in! Now, I have a roommate with STYLE--crazy, hip, British style. And a whole new collection of DVDs. She has so much style, I feel like I need to update my wardrobe just to be able to live in my own home. Yay, shopping!

She's ok with my cats. Actually, it's a near perfect situation--she brushes them, makes sure they have food, and generally keeps them company during the day. And then shuts them out of her room so they have no choice but to snuggle up with me at night. I'm not sure how long this is going to last, because the new roommate has her sights set on getting a dog. I'm all for this, and actually looking forward to having a dog again. But I'm not sure how the cats will handle having competition for the Brit's affections.
Here are a few Reasons I Should Not Live Alone:
A roommate would not allow me to eat corndogs and chocolate martinis for dinner.
I have a hard time justifying leaving the house.
Left on my own, I have a hard time showering on a regular basis.
Strange house noises with a roommate = strange house noises; Strange house noises alone = monsters in the basement trying to get me.