Yesterday in church I had an epiphany. So as to alleviate any confusion about the actual celebration of Epiphany I looked up the definition.
epiphany is defined by dictionary.com as "a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience."
So, my commonplace occurrence or simple experience? Listening to a nice sermon by Pastor Chris. There was one simple statement that he made and WHAMO. I'm in a full blown existential, life changing, thought tangent.
The statement was really more of a question. The basic idea was about the difference between needing to be taught a new concept or needing to simply be reminded of lessons already learned.
Now, in the context of the sermon, this was a deep question regarding faith lessons. However, my mind went to my job. I am a teacher. A choir director actually. Do I actually teach anything significant? Or am I constantly reminding students of things they are perfectly capable of grasping on their own. Especially since most of what I remind them constantly about are concepts I know they've been hearing since grade school.
For example......when to stop singing a specific note. Its easy enough? Whole notes= 4 beats. If the word you are singing has a "t" at the end of it, put the "t" on at the end of 4 beats. Easy? You'd be amazed at how many times I say something along the lines of "4 counts!!! 4 counts!!! Didn't I tell you every day for the past 3 months that that note lasts for 4 counts???" Now grant it, I've only gone off on this rant because I didn't hear said "t" and I'm tired of saying the same things over and over. But in my head I've convinced myself that either I stink as a teacher or they are lazy or morons. Or whatever. None of which are true.
Reality says, though, that these kids are intelligent, talented students. And I have somehow watered down my expectations for them. In turn they subconsciously know they don't have to think for themselves since I'll be screaming what to do later.
I challenged them today to not let this pattern continue. They seemed eager to comply. Now that I think about it, I should also apologize to them for treating them like that. Not that I'm cruel about it. I should also ask them to hold me accountable for treating them better. Because really....who wants to have such low expectations for life?
I really want to teach them new and exciting things about music. Not remind them constantly of things they definitely know. There is so much more to be enjoyed about the music we learn, I need to open their eyes and ears to those possibilities. Not hammer them over the head with elementary nuggets of knowledge that they've already acquired.
So...what percentage of our lives is spent needing to be reminded of lessons already learned and what percentage is spent learning new things?
Depressing isn't it? Or is it inspiring? Have I been inspired or kicked in the pants? Who knows...either way, I've got to look at life with this new perspective or I'll be kicking myself in the pants for slipping into old habits.
Happy Monday.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
Yard Sale Madness
Welcome to the first episode of.....Who decided that was a good idea?
Today's topic......yardsales. Who came up with that idea? Pile all of your crap onto a few neatly arranged tables, slap on a sticker or sign and see who shows up.
Today marks the beginning of the "world's longest yardsale." or something like that. It goes from Covington, KY to somewhere in the Gulf of New Mexico supposedly. That's what my husband said anyway, I've never cared enough to read about it.
Yardsales have been somewhat of a mystery to me since I was a kid. My mother and grandmother LOVED to go to them. They dragged me and a few of my cousins along with them. It was always way too hot and I was never allowed to buy anything. Half of the time I never got out of the car and ended up fighting with my cousin Charlie or my sister. So, basically, I pretty much hated those days. But now that I think about it....what would I give for the chance to go on one more outing with my Granny? It would be cool though, I still miss her alot.
But back to the subject.....buying something that someone else has used...alot. Or maybe they just kept it forever and then decided to sell it to some poor sucker for a really cheap price.
So what is the appeal? Is it the cheap price? Is it the feeling of getting something for next to nothing? Or is it that we are so "stuff" oriented in the US that we feel the desire to acquire other people's "stuff." Its still a mystery.
Right now, in my very own front yard, sits a myriad of my stuff. Everything from garden tools to musty toys of my neice and nephew's infancy to books that don't have all of the pages or old candles. And people have bought A TON OF IT. Grant it, most of it is for under a dollar but still, wow.
You see, we plan to move to a smaller residence very soon. Most of the belongings in this house won't fit in the new place. We don't use most of it anyway and haven't even looked at a lot of it in years. Many things will be thrown away or given to charity. But my dear husband decided we should have a yardsale. Its been rather successful and we've only had one day of sales. The biggest hit, however, was the box of free stuff that a few young boys in the neighborhood thought was cool. I'm sure it was the idea of it being free but nonetheless, they took most of it.
My problem with all of this I guess is a fear related one. I know the condition of my basement where most of this has been stored. I don't care for basements. They are usually musty, stinky, dark, germ-infested and spider-filled. All of these things frighten me to some extent. I REALLY do not like spiders. Germs are another story entirely. More about that later. The thought of going to my basement to retrieve these items........yuck.
So, sell my stuff in exchange for a few dollars and you get the privilege of taking my stuff home, cleaning it up and calling it yours. Yeah, have fun with that.
Its not a pleasant thought really. Its a bit embarrassing. HOWEVER, if you happen to come by my yardsale and want to take some of my stuff for yourself I'll gladly put the money to good use.....I'll buy some new stuff.
Today's topic......yardsales. Who came up with that idea? Pile all of your crap onto a few neatly arranged tables, slap on a sticker or sign and see who shows up.
Today marks the beginning of the "world's longest yardsale." or something like that. It goes from Covington, KY to somewhere in the Gulf of New Mexico supposedly. That's what my husband said anyway, I've never cared enough to read about it.
Yardsales have been somewhat of a mystery to me since I was a kid. My mother and grandmother LOVED to go to them. They dragged me and a few of my cousins along with them. It was always way too hot and I was never allowed to buy anything. Half of the time I never got out of the car and ended up fighting with my cousin Charlie or my sister. So, basically, I pretty much hated those days. But now that I think about it....what would I give for the chance to go on one more outing with my Granny? It would be cool though, I still miss her alot.
But back to the subject.....buying something that someone else has used...alot. Or maybe they just kept it forever and then decided to sell it to some poor sucker for a really cheap price.
So what is the appeal? Is it the cheap price? Is it the feeling of getting something for next to nothing? Or is it that we are so "stuff" oriented in the US that we feel the desire to acquire other people's "stuff." Its still a mystery.
Right now, in my very own front yard, sits a myriad of my stuff. Everything from garden tools to musty toys of my neice and nephew's infancy to books that don't have all of the pages or old candles. And people have bought A TON OF IT. Grant it, most of it is for under a dollar but still, wow.
You see, we plan to move to a smaller residence very soon. Most of the belongings in this house won't fit in the new place. We don't use most of it anyway and haven't even looked at a lot of it in years. Many things will be thrown away or given to charity. But my dear husband decided we should have a yardsale. Its been rather successful and we've only had one day of sales. The biggest hit, however, was the box of free stuff that a few young boys in the neighborhood thought was cool. I'm sure it was the idea of it being free but nonetheless, they took most of it.
My problem with all of this I guess is a fear related one. I know the condition of my basement where most of this has been stored. I don't care for basements. They are usually musty, stinky, dark, germ-infested and spider-filled. All of these things frighten me to some extent. I REALLY do not like spiders. Germs are another story entirely. More about that later. The thought of going to my basement to retrieve these items........yuck.
So, sell my stuff in exchange for a few dollars and you get the privilege of taking my stuff home, cleaning it up and calling it yours. Yeah, have fun with that.
Its not a pleasant thought really. Its a bit embarrassing. HOWEVER, if you happen to come by my yardsale and want to take some of my stuff for yourself I'll gladly put the money to good use.....I'll buy some new stuff.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
So my thoughts for the day......When did it happen?
Ok, soap box alert! If you don't want to read about what's bugging me tonight, stop reading and go check out pogo.com.
I realize its been awhile since I've blogged but I haven't felt like saying anything significant until today. Today's reason? I feel like crap and people who should care...don't.
This all started last week on Friday. I woke up crazy early with an awful headache. As I became aware of the time (3am) I realized also that my entire back was in pain and I was shivering. I wasn't feeling chilled or anything. My body was basically shaking. Great, I'm getting sick.
As I stumbled my way to the kitchen I discovered hubby still awake and playing a game on my laptop. ( I've spoken earlier of his insomniac tendencies.) So, I found a thermometer and some advil. My temp was 99.3. No big deal, could be anything. So I went back to bed.
When I eventually gave up and got out of bed I decided to go visit a family member who was in the hospital. The more I was up and moving around I discovered that EVERY inch of my body ached. My thoughts went in two different directions.....
1. What the heck is wrong with me?
2. Big baby, stop being over dramatic.
Well the second thought was confirmed by my mother once I got to the hospital. We both happened to be there at the same time. The patient was sleeping peacefully so I asked my mother what she thought might be causing my symptoms. She's very good at guessing things and when we were younger we all called her Doc. But that day she told me my symptoms were because I am not getting enough exercise. Grrr. The closest I can come to describing the way I felt was the flu. I felt like I had the flu. And she says its because I've not been getting enough exercise. Grr.
At first I thought, geesz, you're right, what a pig I've turned out to be. But then I thought.....Wait, I've not been any less active that normal, as a matter of fact, I've been doing a lot of extra walking on vacations, etc. Self defeating thoughts fleeting, indignation rising. The next thought was.....Hey, you've not even been in town for 3 weeks, how do you know what I've been doing or not doing? Cue---exit stage left. I left the hospital wondering what exactly my mother thinks of me. Dangerous pathway.
By the end of the night I was having a full blown migraine, was aching absolutely everywhere and could barely move my head. Needless to say the movie we were watching, HANCOCK, was awesome but I could not focus on the last 30 minutes of it at all. Too many flashing lights, loud music. I was trying really hard to keep the DQ supper in my body.
So we bid our friends farewell and stopped at the afterhours walk-in clinic for my doctors. As it turns out, I have a UTI. Lots of infection as well as some blood.....I am a kidney stone producer. Seriously, I've had as many stones as I am old. If kidney stones were worth something like pearls are, I'd be rich.
So, an infection. Not fat lazy slob disease. Hmm. Over the course of the next few days my temp has gone up to 103 several times. Even on an antibiotic. Which to me doesn't make sense. Shouldn't a fever start to go down and then stay there if you are getting better? Apparently I'd have moments of delusions thinking I was better because my temp was 99.3 again. But then hours later it went back up to nearly 103. I don't get it. So I've spent the last 3 days on the couch covered by piles of blankies, longing for my granny to feed me some chicken noodle soup like she used to do when I was sick as a kid.
Mom's solution or answer to my fever still being high.....I shouldn't be eating sweets. Granted, I am a diabetic and high blood sugars do affect the healing process but.....really. How does she know what I'm eating and not eating?????? I don't live with her. As a matter of fact, I haven't been eating much of anything since I've had this fever.
Now this morning, she insisted that I call the doctor. Major whiplash with that directional change. So I did call explained things to the girl who answered the phone, she was polite and said she would get the message to the doctors right away. She said they even had appointments available today if they wanted to see me. That was around noon today. Its now 9:34pm. I'm glad they've gotten back to me. Oh wait...they haven't.
Now, something about me that you might not know. I can be over reactive to health issues that most people consider to be trivial or a minor inconvenience. However....as many cancer survivors can attest, you just can't shake that worry. Its been nearly 10 years since my leukemia diagnosis and I still want instant attention to my issues like they gave me when I was going through chemo. Also, I never know when an infection that goes beyond the normal path might mean a relapse.
All of these crazy things going on this week combined with going to the same hospital I received my treatments to visit someone I care for deeply. I'm not happy. And BTW why do they still have to use the same soap in the bathrooms??? I get a good whiff of that stuff when I'm washing my hands and am immediatly taken back to room 1217 with the horrible painting on the wall.
The 94 year old family member is home and doing very well considering she had both a heartattack and stroke. My temperature is basically calm now its not done much spiking. Its at a lovely 99.5.
So my thoughts for the day......When did it happen?
When did I turn into the daughter who isn't smart enough to figure out when there is something wrong with her body? Really, I'd like to know when. 10 years ago I was a mess but she was there believing everything that I told her about what I was feeling. And was so sweet about taking care of me.
So now it seems.....I have entered a new phase of life. And I don't know when it happened. Or if I could ever change it.
Its the compassion I miss. I miss it from my parents. They have yet to say anything along the lines of "I'm sorry you are going through this." In any of the major events we've been dealing with lately. Instead we get drilled with questions and silences.
So how about it readers? What shift in relationships have you been dealing with lately? Parental or other. Any words of wisdom?
I'm sorry its a downer this time. Maybe I should just go drink a gallon of water and jog my way to and from the gas station up the road.
I realize its been awhile since I've blogged but I haven't felt like saying anything significant until today. Today's reason? I feel like crap and people who should care...don't.
This all started last week on Friday. I woke up crazy early with an awful headache. As I became aware of the time (3am) I realized also that my entire back was in pain and I was shivering. I wasn't feeling chilled or anything. My body was basically shaking. Great, I'm getting sick.
As I stumbled my way to the kitchen I discovered hubby still awake and playing a game on my laptop. ( I've spoken earlier of his insomniac tendencies.) So, I found a thermometer and some advil. My temp was 99.3. No big deal, could be anything. So I went back to bed.
When I eventually gave up and got out of bed I decided to go visit a family member who was in the hospital. The more I was up and moving around I discovered that EVERY inch of my body ached. My thoughts went in two different directions.....
1. What the heck is wrong with me?
2. Big baby, stop being over dramatic.
Well the second thought was confirmed by my mother once I got to the hospital. We both happened to be there at the same time. The patient was sleeping peacefully so I asked my mother what she thought might be causing my symptoms. She's very good at guessing things and when we were younger we all called her Doc. But that day she told me my symptoms were because I am not getting enough exercise. Grrr. The closest I can come to describing the way I felt was the flu. I felt like I had the flu. And she says its because I've not been getting enough exercise. Grr.
At first I thought, geesz, you're right, what a pig I've turned out to be. But then I thought.....Wait, I've not been any less active that normal, as a matter of fact, I've been doing a lot of extra walking on vacations, etc. Self defeating thoughts fleeting, indignation rising. The next thought was.....Hey, you've not even been in town for 3 weeks, how do you know what I've been doing or not doing? Cue---exit stage left. I left the hospital wondering what exactly my mother thinks of me. Dangerous pathway.
By the end of the night I was having a full blown migraine, was aching absolutely everywhere and could barely move my head. Needless to say the movie we were watching, HANCOCK, was awesome but I could not focus on the last 30 minutes of it at all. Too many flashing lights, loud music. I was trying really hard to keep the DQ supper in my body.
So we bid our friends farewell and stopped at the afterhours walk-in clinic for my doctors. As it turns out, I have a UTI. Lots of infection as well as some blood.....I am a kidney stone producer. Seriously, I've had as many stones as I am old. If kidney stones were worth something like pearls are, I'd be rich.
So, an infection. Not fat lazy slob disease. Hmm. Over the course of the next few days my temp has gone up to 103 several times. Even on an antibiotic. Which to me doesn't make sense. Shouldn't a fever start to go down and then stay there if you are getting better? Apparently I'd have moments of delusions thinking I was better because my temp was 99.3 again. But then hours later it went back up to nearly 103. I don't get it. So I've spent the last 3 days on the couch covered by piles of blankies, longing for my granny to feed me some chicken noodle soup like she used to do when I was sick as a kid.
Mom's solution or answer to my fever still being high.....I shouldn't be eating sweets. Granted, I am a diabetic and high blood sugars do affect the healing process but.....really. How does she know what I'm eating and not eating?????? I don't live with her. As a matter of fact, I haven't been eating much of anything since I've had this fever.
Now this morning, she insisted that I call the doctor. Major whiplash with that directional change. So I did call explained things to the girl who answered the phone, she was polite and said she would get the message to the doctors right away. She said they even had appointments available today if they wanted to see me. That was around noon today. Its now 9:34pm. I'm glad they've gotten back to me. Oh wait...they haven't.
Now, something about me that you might not know. I can be over reactive to health issues that most people consider to be trivial or a minor inconvenience. However....as many cancer survivors can attest, you just can't shake that worry. Its been nearly 10 years since my leukemia diagnosis and I still want instant attention to my issues like they gave me when I was going through chemo. Also, I never know when an infection that goes beyond the normal path might mean a relapse.
All of these crazy things going on this week combined with going to the same hospital I received my treatments to visit someone I care for deeply. I'm not happy. And BTW why do they still have to use the same soap in the bathrooms??? I get a good whiff of that stuff when I'm washing my hands and am immediatly taken back to room 1217 with the horrible painting on the wall.
The 94 year old family member is home and doing very well considering she had both a heartattack and stroke. My temperature is basically calm now its not done much spiking. Its at a lovely 99.5.
So my thoughts for the day......When did it happen?
When did I turn into the daughter who isn't smart enough to figure out when there is something wrong with her body? Really, I'd like to know when. 10 years ago I was a mess but she was there believing everything that I told her about what I was feeling. And was so sweet about taking care of me.
So now it seems.....I have entered a new phase of life. And I don't know when it happened. Or if I could ever change it.
Its the compassion I miss. I miss it from my parents. They have yet to say anything along the lines of "I'm sorry you are going through this." In any of the major events we've been dealing with lately. Instead we get drilled with questions and silences.
So how about it readers? What shift in relationships have you been dealing with lately? Parental or other. Any words of wisdom?
I'm sorry its a downer this time. Maybe I should just go drink a gallon of water and jog my way to and from the gas station up the road.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Why Can't I Sleep?
So tomorrow I leave on a little trip. Its a nice little trip the hubby has planned for us in celebration of our wedding anniversary. I'm glad I married him 15 years ago. He's really a great guy. As I ponder the past 15 years I wonder one thing more than anything tonight.....when did our sleeping patterns flip?
Once upon a time I'd fall asleep no matter what was going on in my life... in a matter of seconds after my head hit the pillow, no matter where I was and NOTHING could wake me. Not tonight though, not really in the last month. Or maybe year. I don't know.
But now I think I'm loosing my mind. I lay down, peacefully, and suddenly EVERYTHING itches. Not everywhere all at once, that's too easy. A big toe first, then my arm, then the other foot, then my scalp, then my hands feel like they are being bitten by tiny little critters who are having a square dance on my palms. Now, before you ask whether or not I might have some sort of infestation, trust me, I don't. I've looked. As a matter of fact, I'm on the couch right now and I'm still having random itching.
Now, my dear hubby, Mikey, traditionally is a light sleeper. And by light I don't mean he wakes if I snore, I mean he wakes if I blink. I feel sorry for the poor guy. Insomnia stinks. So of course I try to ignore the itchiness so as not to disturb the dear. Enter a new problem. Noises. Ringing/roaring in my ears. I try to ignore this but ITS TOO QUIET. I want to turn on the tv to drown out that noise. Alas, that would wake the sleeping man next to me. Itching, scratching, TRAIN WHISTLE, ears roaring, cat bellowing for imaginary kittens, random fly buzzing around. AAAHHHH!!!!! WHAT WAS THAT? Oh, it was the remote I just rolled over. Enter giggling fit.
And I go to the couch. Which of course wakes him up, again. And he's frustrated, again. And its my fault, again.
Why? Why is he asleep and I'm not? Why is it that when he falls asleep first, even if I'm dog-tired, the second I hear that he is breathing that deep-sleep-breathing-thing he does, I'm wide awake? What is that???? I hate insomnia.
Good news is, I now know every episode of Fresh Prince and George Lopez. Nick at Nite is all that helps. They've sort of become my friends. I hear Urkle is coming at the end of June.
Once upon a time I'd fall asleep no matter what was going on in my life... in a matter of seconds after my head hit the pillow, no matter where I was and NOTHING could wake me. Not tonight though, not really in the last month. Or maybe year. I don't know.
But now I think I'm loosing my mind. I lay down, peacefully, and suddenly EVERYTHING itches. Not everywhere all at once, that's too easy. A big toe first, then my arm, then the other foot, then my scalp, then my hands feel like they are being bitten by tiny little critters who are having a square dance on my palms. Now, before you ask whether or not I might have some sort of infestation, trust me, I don't. I've looked. As a matter of fact, I'm on the couch right now and I'm still having random itching.
Now, my dear hubby, Mikey, traditionally is a light sleeper. And by light I don't mean he wakes if I snore, I mean he wakes if I blink. I feel sorry for the poor guy. Insomnia stinks. So of course I try to ignore the itchiness so as not to disturb the dear. Enter a new problem. Noises. Ringing/roaring in my ears. I try to ignore this but ITS TOO QUIET. I want to turn on the tv to drown out that noise. Alas, that would wake the sleeping man next to me. Itching, scratching, TRAIN WHISTLE, ears roaring, cat bellowing for imaginary kittens, random fly buzzing around. AAAHHHH!!!!! WHAT WAS THAT? Oh, it was the remote I just rolled over. Enter giggling fit.
And I go to the couch. Which of course wakes him up, again. And he's frustrated, again. And its my fault, again.
Why? Why is he asleep and I'm not? Why is it that when he falls asleep first, even if I'm dog-tired, the second I hear that he is breathing that deep-sleep-breathing-thing he does, I'm wide awake? What is that???? I hate insomnia.
Good news is, I now know every episode of Fresh Prince and George Lopez. Nick at Nite is all that helps. They've sort of become my friends. I hear Urkle is coming at the end of June.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Welcome
So, the title of my blog might be a bit misleading. yes, I am a cat person, but no, I'm not completely obsessed with them. Some people might argue with me, but honestly, I only have 2. I do, however, share stories about them as most people share stories about their children. I have no children, I have cats. Cats are fun. Cats are easier than kids. You can leave cats for the weekend unattended and nobody really cares. Cats don't go into therapy because you didn't give them enough attention. They do however, get very funny when you don't immediately give them the attention they so desire.
So, why the title then? Well, let me explain......
Once upon a time I walked out of my house and headed toward my car. My car at the time was a bit well worn but I loved that car. It was my first that I purchased for myself. I knew I had been experiencing a small leak in the air pressure on a tire due to a kindly neighbor. The neighbor at the time, was obsessed with all things related to car racing. He had the most amazingly stocked garage that I have ever seen. He told me that my tire was a little flat and he had filled it with air. But this morning, my tire was completely flat and the neighbor was nowhere to be seen. Grr.
Now, when I first got my driver's license, my parents would not let me drive by myself until I proved to them I could change a tire. When I was 16 I was forced to change a perfectly good tire with the neighborhood boys watching me and my parents. This time, Hubby wasn't home so.....on this fated morning, I decided I could change my own tire, dang it! I guess a bit of the teasing those neighborhood boys did while I was growing up made me very indignant over somethings. No one could ever tell me I couldn't do something because I was a girl. Them's fighting words!
I then proceeded to unload my trunk and search for the necessary equipment. I soon discovered that was a complicated task in and of itself. I'm sure many curse words and sweat drops were present by then end of that part. Next I proceeded to do what I thought I should do to use the jack. At some point around 30 minutes later, I gave up and called my dad. By the time he got to our house, I actually had the car up on the jack and was attempting to loosen the lug nuts. I realize now, this isn't the order of things if you'd like to be successful in changing a tire. More about that later.
Well, Dad had brought his handy dandy car jack that was apparently a much easier method than the tangled mess I found in my trunk. We both assessed the situation and decided, since it was already on the jack, we might as well give it a whirl. We got the tire off the car but....soon thereafter, my car fell off the jack and landed on my driveway without the tire. Dad and I both stared in amazement that we had just let this happen.
As I stood there feeling like a fool, I realized that most of my neighbors had been watching this, for quite some time. No one had offered to help, neither before I called my dad, nor after the horrible crashing noise my car made as it landed on the driveway.
Had they not seen my distress? Had they not heard my cries of sorrow? Apparently many of them had heard me because it was apparent that I had become the neighborhood entertainment. This, for obvious reasons, made me rather angry.
As Dad and I finished changing the tire and figuring out what to do I began to mull the whole situation over in my head. Why hadn't anyone offered to help? Was being entertained really more important than being a good neighbor? Were they really staring at me? Jerks.....
Because I have an 'overdeveloped sense of vengeance' I decided that I would get back at those pesky neighbors by becoming something that would frighten their children. And so, the idea of the Crazy Cat Lady was born.
Have I frightened any children? Not to my knowledge. I even tried a few weeks ago when I became MELMART, DEFENDER OF DOGS. Basically, 2 preteen boys were harassing the dog across the street. I yelled at them a bit and then sat on the front porch while they kept cruising past to see if I had left the outside world yet. I went in to test them once and was able to come back out and yell again. This time I told them that I was going to tattle on them to their parents or the cops. While I was secretly wishing the dog would get loose and bite them, I knew that if he did, the authorities would take him away. He's a pretty cool dog. We speak to each other on a regular basis. He told me he doesn't like pesky, unattended kids.....we both agreed that next time, I get to bite them and he can call the cops.
In the mean time...Rico, the dog, I got you're back, or tail, or whatever.
So, why the title then? Well, let me explain......
Once upon a time I walked out of my house and headed toward my car. My car at the time was a bit well worn but I loved that car. It was my first that I purchased for myself. I knew I had been experiencing a small leak in the air pressure on a tire due to a kindly neighbor. The neighbor at the time, was obsessed with all things related to car racing. He had the most amazingly stocked garage that I have ever seen. He told me that my tire was a little flat and he had filled it with air. But this morning, my tire was completely flat and the neighbor was nowhere to be seen. Grr.
Now, when I first got my driver's license, my parents would not let me drive by myself until I proved to them I could change a tire. When I was 16 I was forced to change a perfectly good tire with the neighborhood boys watching me and my parents. This time, Hubby wasn't home so.....on this fated morning, I decided I could change my own tire, dang it! I guess a bit of the teasing those neighborhood boys did while I was growing up made me very indignant over somethings. No one could ever tell me I couldn't do something because I was a girl. Them's fighting words!
I then proceeded to unload my trunk and search for the necessary equipment. I soon discovered that was a complicated task in and of itself. I'm sure many curse words and sweat drops were present by then end of that part. Next I proceeded to do what I thought I should do to use the jack. At some point around 30 minutes later, I gave up and called my dad. By the time he got to our house, I actually had the car up on the jack and was attempting to loosen the lug nuts. I realize now, this isn't the order of things if you'd like to be successful in changing a tire. More about that later.
Well, Dad had brought his handy dandy car jack that was apparently a much easier method than the tangled mess I found in my trunk. We both assessed the situation and decided, since it was already on the jack, we might as well give it a whirl. We got the tire off the car but....soon thereafter, my car fell off the jack and landed on my driveway without the tire. Dad and I both stared in amazement that we had just let this happen.
As I stood there feeling like a fool, I realized that most of my neighbors had been watching this, for quite some time. No one had offered to help, neither before I called my dad, nor after the horrible crashing noise my car made as it landed on the driveway.
Had they not seen my distress? Had they not heard my cries of sorrow? Apparently many of them had heard me because it was apparent that I had become the neighborhood entertainment. This, for obvious reasons, made me rather angry.
As Dad and I finished changing the tire and figuring out what to do I began to mull the whole situation over in my head. Why hadn't anyone offered to help? Was being entertained really more important than being a good neighbor? Were they really staring at me? Jerks.....
Because I have an 'overdeveloped sense of vengeance' I decided that I would get back at those pesky neighbors by becoming something that would frighten their children. And so, the idea of the Crazy Cat Lady was born.
Have I frightened any children? Not to my knowledge. I even tried a few weeks ago when I became MELMART, DEFENDER OF DOGS. Basically, 2 preteen boys were harassing the dog across the street. I yelled at them a bit and then sat on the front porch while they kept cruising past to see if I had left the outside world yet. I went in to test them once and was able to come back out and yell again. This time I told them that I was going to tattle on them to their parents or the cops. While I was secretly wishing the dog would get loose and bite them, I knew that if he did, the authorities would take him away. He's a pretty cool dog. We speak to each other on a regular basis. He told me he doesn't like pesky, unattended kids.....we both agreed that next time, I get to bite them and he can call the cops.
In the mean time...Rico, the dog, I got you're back, or tail, or whatever.
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