It’s 4:15 a.m. Do you know where your cat is?

Every night for about 2 weeks now when 4:15 rolls around,

(and can I just reiterate this is 4:15 a.m. to which I’m referring),

my cat begins this very strange ritual of pestering the fool out of me until I get out of bed.

He wants me to walk to the kitchen, and refill his food and water bowl, or else there will be no peace in the house. It doesn’t necessarily matter if either one of the bowls is even empty for that matter. He just wants me to get up...make the gesture, and then he seems content again.

This is my best guess as to why his odd behavior is occurring, because all other avenues of consoling him haven’t worked. Checking the litter box, or ensuring the door is open simply doesn't appease him. It's the rattling of the food bag that finally settles him down.

I always thought the magical hour was midnight?
I could do midnight really I could!
and I would promise not to be cranky from lack of sleep the following morning too!

Midnight is the mark of a new day…and a promise of a fresh start.
It's an end to a bad day riddled with opportunities to do better than the previous one.

Cinderella turned into a ratty hag at midnight.
Her coach turned back into a pumpkin at midnight…
and the horses into mice, and the coachmen into birds...

all at the exact moment the clock tower chimed twelve o’clock.

Then why OHWHYFORTHELOVEOFGOD must my cat wake me every night at 4:15?

Would someone please send my ninja cat the memo?

Link to the Shrink...

I don't do politics on my blog as a rule. When I started Contemblogging, I listed it under the humor category of the blog directories, and with the exception of my favorite television program..The Daily Show.., there is little humor to be found in politics.

I would however like to direct your attention to Sigmond, Carl & Alfred and his recent blog post "Who's Land Is This"?

If you want to know what I think about the State of our politics today...I am inclined to save my freshly manicured nails the trouble of re-typing exactly what he already so eloquently said.
It's well written, and my thoughts exactly!

No cause for worry that I might vent my political position on a regular basis because I won't. I hate to offend anyone... even the whiny liberals I'd sooner see hearded to Iraq. But just for the record, check it out.

Fairy Tales: This just in...

According to new data released by the U.S. Census Bureau, CNN Money, and the President's Council of Economic Advisors, the amount of money the tooth fairy must leave under the pillows of today’s children, after factoring in the comparative cost of living between the 1970’s and 2005, is 5 times higher than it was for children in the 1970’s.

The going rate for a baby tooth in mint condition, assuming no decay or breakage, adjusted using an annual average measured against regional differences for the cost of consumer goods and dental services, excluding taxes, for professional and managerial household incomes is higher than it has ever been.

This new data, is based on information collected quarterly by chambers of commerce and applied economic centers from Tooth Fairies in each participating urban area.

The composite index is based on four components for more than 50,000 different tooth assortments: Obvious dental hygiene, size, color, and the absence of any occlusions.

Tooth Fairies everywhere are speaking out against this extreme rise in the per-tooth payout, and have legally sought assistance from financial aid institutes across America. They are voicing their concern over possible adverse effects this increase could have on children of different families with varying income levels and urge children to understand that small differences in pay out should not be interpreted as unfair partiality.

For Your Health and Safety Information

I was informed yesterday while I cleaned the icky nose of our 5 year old that...
"only the Blue Boogers are poisonous!"

Whew!
And to think I was worried!

Tell me how you REALLY feel...

I’ve got two choices at this moment.

Write a blog entry that makes you laugh, cry, love me, hate me, or fall asleep.
This involves time, concentration, and focused attention.
I have none of these.
Did I mention the hurricanes were here? I did? Oh ok.

Or

Copy and paste a blog meme that I stole from Kim and Funky and let you do all the typing.

That’s a no brainer. Get ready. Get set.
Copy Paste
Whew! Done.
That took 30 seconds....
Now you…

If this is your first time here, might I suggest skipping this and reading a previous post?

1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. Do you have a crush on me? If no….why the hell not?
5. Do you read my blog regularily?
6. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
7. Describe me in one word.
8. What was your first impression?
9. Do you still think that way about me now?
10. What reminds you of me?
11. If you could give me anything what would it be?
12. How well do you know me?
13. When's the last time you saw me?
14. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
15. Do you feel like your back in high school now?
16. Are you going to put this on your blog and see what I say about you?

Have a great day.

Escape from Alcatraz!

After many colorful Hamster cages were reduced to plastic shavings by the chewing teeth of our little Houdini,…
….and after the carpet behind the bookshelf was destroyed by those same chewing tools… I have purchased the ultimate in rodent retention.

Now.


Escape from this Bi-otch!

and speaking of hurricanes...

It appears hurricane season is upon us once again. I swear it was just yesterday that Florida was being bombarded by storm after horrific storm, inflicting damage to homes and businesses of helpless Floridians and East coast inhabitants.
Now here it is, June (again), and the rains and winds are taunting us with more of the same, starting off with tropical depression Arlene.

Because hurricanes often occur at the same time, officials assign short, distinctive names to the storms to avoid confusion among weather stations, coastal bases, and ships at sea. Since 1953, Atlantic tropical storms have been named from lists created by the National Hurricane Center and now maintained and updated by the World Meteorological Organization. Six lists are used in rotation. Thus, the 2004 list will be used again in 2010.
A storm is given a name once its winds reach an intensity of 40 mph.

To name a few:
Alex Arlene Alberto Andrea Arthur Ana
Bonnie Bret Beryl Bertha Bill
Charley Chantal Cristobal Claudette
Danielle Dennis Debby Dean Dolly Danny
Earl Emily Ernesto Edouard Erika
Frances Franklin Felix Fay Fred
Gaston Gert Gordon Gabrielle Gustav Grace
Hermine Harvey Humberto Henri
Ivan Ike Ida Jerry Josephine Joaquin
Katrina Kirk Lorenzo Laura Larry
Matthew Marco Mindy Nadine Noel Nicholas
Otto Ophelia Oscar Philippe Pablo Rose
Sebastien Sally Sam Teddy Teresa Van Vicky Victor
W
*Source: National Hurricane Center, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

And speaking of hurricanes….

Did I mention Monkey and the Princess are here? Yes? Ahh

We picked them up Saturday, and it’s been a hurricane around here ever since. We did a Spiderman birthday party for Monkey on Sunday, and today was the beginning of day camp for this dynamic duo.

I’ve been contemplating some new names for monkey. Something that reflects his hurricane like nature.

Maybe you guys can help me choose?
Or maybe just "Hurricane" Monkey? Is that on the list?

apples and I don't remember what else....

I woke up this morning with a powerful blog entry overflowing in my mind. The words were forming without effort, playing on the widescreen that is my subconscious mind, as if they were being sent to me via divine intervention.

Unfortunately my subconscious mind isn’t what it used to be. It would serve me well to keep a pen and paper beside my bed because one hour later I don’t remember a bit of it, except that it had something to do with Adam, Eve and a really good Waldorf salad recipe.

Little Man arrived safely in Belgium, and has finally adjusted to the time zone differences. I speak to him every day on the phone, but will be very glad when he returns so I can throw my arms around him and cover him in Moma kisses.

The plan for today is to get up, work, attend a professional association meeting, then have dinner with an old friend paying special attention to the fact that I don’t have to race home at any particular time to pick up a child or chauffeur said child to various and sundry school or social events.

I’ve not yet shaken the feeling throughout the day, that I’ve got to hurry somewhere so as not to leave a child sitting outside alone, unattended and forgotten after all of the other children have been picked up and taken home.

Of course this scenario will change shortly when he returns home again and my schedule is once again filled with the coming and goings involved with childhood activities. What I’m actually experiencing now is the proverbial calm before the storm. Once he's home, things will start hopping again, and blog entries will fly.

That is if I’m coherent enough to remember to write them down.

I know you are but what am I?

I had 22 emails this morning in my yahoo account!
Twenty two!
And you know what?

NOT ONE SINGLE MAIL was from an actual person.
Not one.

So what if I’m not popular, and no one returns my emails? I’m highly regarded in the internet shopping arena, and amongst companies wishing to grow my penis to lengths the neighbors will envy.

And…and….and i’ve got this pre approved credit card application too!

I feel so warm and fuzzy inside.

The Funny Red Fez

Remember the Flintstones?

I’m not sure if they still show that cartoon these days, but I remember watching it a lot as a kid.

Fred and Barney were a member of a Lodge, "The Loyal Brotherhood of Water Buffalos" and wore funny hats and had silly greetings to recognize their fraternity “brothers”, …. which was in essence, a spoof of the Shriners.

I come from a long line of Shriner men. The funny red hat,
while maybe a tad odd looking, in my eyes represents My Grandfather, My Step Grandfather, My Father, friends and other family members who have proudly worn the fez and helped make miracles happen for many many children.

I suppose when some people think of the Shriners, they think of a group of old men who party a lot, and wear the funny red Fez. To me, it’s a vision of security, of good memories…
Of good men.

The Shrine's official philanthropy is Shriners Hospitals for Children, a network of 22 hospitals that provide expert, no-cost orthopedic and burn care to children under 18. When they say “no cost” that’s really what they mean. No cost to the children or the families including travel and stay. The SHRINERS do indeed host a lot of parties, but the money raised at these parties is what keeps those 22 high tech hospitals functioning every day. It costs millions of dollars each day to keep a hospital running, and I’ve seen grown men reach into their wallets to dole out money for a silly square of toilet paper being sold by a new Shriner recruit at his fraternal initiation.

This image will always make me proud.




It will always remind me of my Grandfather. I don’t think he lived a day of his adult life to my knowledge without doing, wearing, or participating in something that had to do with the Shrine. My Father followed in his footsteps. They are good men doing good things.

This weekend happens to be initiation weekend for some 50 new candidates here in Savannah, and I just came from the parade where they march them through downtown as part of their initiation hazing. I missed having Little Man with me, to watch and learn what it means to have fun and be charitable.

...and tonight we will put on our formal attire to attend the ball, where these new Shriners will each receive their new sparkly,
Funny little red hats.

Bless each and every one of them.

I Left My Heart in Hartsfield Airport.

When I got divorced some 5 years ago, it was a struggle as any divorce is.
We argued about the same things most couples do when the split inevitably happens.
Money, stuff, money, stuff, more money, and of course…money.

Then there was custody of Little Man.

We lived in Belgium.
I wanted out of the cold and rain which meant I was moving back to the United States come Hell or high water….With Little Man.
For some fathers this would mean the unthinkable. Living thousands of miles away from your child with minimal visitation.

For this father in particular, all it took was some quick negotiations on my part,
and I was on an airplane heading West with my son. Free at last.

As most negotiations involve money, and money is what moved my X- husband to tears on more than one occasion, it was no surprise to me that the child support he would forgo paying if I moved to another country would be my winning negotiation card.
I was right. I got full custody of our son, he doesn’t pay a dime in child support.

Fine by me, I just wanted out.

We did agree that he would have 7 weeks Summer visitation rights, so once a year I have to drive my son to the Atlanta Airport and put him on a plane destined for Belgium. This is difficult to say the least. Heart wrenching, gut stabbing, throat clenching horrible horrible horrible is more accurate!

This year was especially hard due to the fact that his Tourette’s symptoms have progressed and his OCD fears are in full maximum gear. “What if the plane crashes? What if a bad guy is on the plane and shoots us? What if the pilot dies? What if I get sick? What if we get hijacked? What if you die while I’m gone? What if someone breaks in while I’m gone? What if you get in a car crash on the way back to Savannah? What if…what if…what if…”

It’s draining to answer his questions, but necessary to reassure his obsessive fearful emotions.

He clung to me until he had to board the plane.
He cried when they had to peel him off of me.
I cried when I was out of his view.

It was a long 4 hour drive home, and my house is not the same without my little man.

I keep thinking I hear him call me from the back room, or while I was in the store today.
I looked...
but it wasn’t him. –sigh-