Saturday, June 2, 2007


You. Can. Only. Type. One. Word. No. Explaining.

1. Where is your cell phone?

2. Relationship?

3. Your hair?

4. Work?

5. Your sister/brother?

6. Your favorite thing?

7. Your dream last night?

8. Your favorite drink?

9. Your dream car?

10. The room you're in?

11. Best time of year?

12. Your fears?

13. What do you want to be in 10 years?

14. Who did you hang out with this weekend?

15. What you're not good at?

16. Muffin?

17. One of your wish list items?

18. Where you grew up?

19. The last thing you did?

20. What are you wearing?

21. What aren't you wearing?

22. Your pet(s)

23. Your computer?

24. Your life?

26. Missing?

27. What are you thinking about right now?

28. Your car?

29. Your kitchen?

30. Your summer?

31. Your favorite color?

32. When is the last time you laughed?

33. Last time you cried?

34. School?

35. Love?

**borrowed from Lindsay**

Friday, June 1, 2007

My New Gimmick

For Flenker

Like A Bowl of Oatmeal

Dang, this blog is bland. How am I supposed to expect people to read if they are being lulled to sleep by the extensive grey background? I need some help. Additional blog tips, if you will. Sprucing tips. I tried the picture element, but my computer won't upload the pics. My computer is lacking in many Blogger areas. For instance, there is no Insert Link icon or Edit HTML option. And now my pictures won't upload, save the occasional blog post picture.

If there is a formula for changing the background of this blog, I would kindly appreciate it.

Thursday, May 31, 2007

*Update: Returning to the dreaded cat-house has been a source of stress all day. Forget the key. No one steals from an empty garage. If a criminal, and so inclined, feel free to take the cat.*

Holy Mother of...

I've been feeding this cat for the past week. Chelsea. Her family is out of town, at the beach. They took the dog. I can take care of a cat, no problem. Twice a day, food and water, clean the litter box, turn on the sprinklers every other morning. Sure. I've got it under control.

Well. Over the past couple of days, I brought my sister or friend to play with Chelsea while I complete the cat tasks. When I walk in by myself, she meows all weird, rubs against my legs, and doesn't like it when I move. She pounces my feet...and it freaks me out. Usually if she has someone else to focus on I can get in and out unscathed. This morning I brought my brother, Jack, as my handy helper. I turn on the sprinklers, unlock the back door, and say hello to Chelsea. I point Jack in the direction of the food closet and tell him to fill her bowl while I clean the litter box. He quickly walks to the door. Chelsea chases his feet. Not playfully, mind you. Chases. Jack stops. Chelsea hisses. Chelsea SCREAMS. I have never in my life heard a cat scream. I've heard late night cat fights, sure. But a yelling cat? Scared the bejeezus out of me. Chelsea gets low on her haunches (funny word) and screams and sprays and pounces. She scratches Jack's sandalled feet and screams some more. He is standing completely still, scared out of his mind. I'm yelling at Jack, though I didn't know his walking away would spur such a hellish cat reaction. She walks over towards me, glaring. I'm trying to talk her down. "Chelsea, it's okay. Come over here. He's not going to hurt you. Would you like some food? Would you?" Still glaring. She walks towards me and scratches my feet. I'm not happy anymore, not sympathetic, not anything other than "Get Jack and myself the hell out of here."

I turn to Jack and say, "Once she's distracted, I'm going to open the door. Run."
"NO," he replies.
"You've got no choice."

She walks toward her cat bed but spins around and jogs towards Jack. Jack is on the verge of tears. I don't blame him. My knees are shaking, and I don't scare easily. Something about this angry, screaming cat scares me like nothing else. I take any blame for Poor Judgment and Stupid Cat Conduct, but she'd seen us both before on numerous occasions. I didn't forsee any hostilty. Jack pointed out that he was scared because he couldn't defend himself. He can't kill the neighbor's cat. He can't kick her, or buy the pepper spray ring he found on eBay once we got home. Well he could...

Anyways. Chelsea turns around and I open the door wide. "Run, Jack!" He does. And so does she. Jack's outside but up against this kudzu planter. Chelsea jumps about a foot into the air and hisses. Jack opens his arms wide and yells, not caring one bit about what it will take to get away. He runs around the side yard. She chases him. I'm yelling, "Run, Jack!" mixed with "Chelsea! Come back!" She is not an outdoor cat. Her owner assured me that she is dumb and would die. I've got to get that cat back inside.

I later learn that Jack ran around and jumped the fence. Chelsea was stopped by the sprinkler and came trotting back. Once again, she stops and glares. If I move my feet, she scratches. I point inside and tell her to go back in. She doesn't take her eyes off of my feet. Jack and I are on the same side of the house now, separated by a latched gate. "Hand me some rocks," I tell him. I stick my hand through the fence's slit and Jack gives me a couple pebbles. I toss them one at a time into the garage, and Chelsea follows. I grab the doorknob and slam the door. And realize that I left the key inside.

No way I going back in there. I take Jack and walk home.

I didn't used to hate cats. And I feel bad for Chelsea, in a way.

Mostly, though, I think she's insane. "She's possessed by the devil," insists Jack. I don't argue.

I called my neighbor and let her know the goings on. She said I don't have to go back. Chelsea has a full food and water bowl and a semi-clean litter box. She'll be okay overnight.

But I have to go back. I left the key.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007


the colors race by
the stars overhead
the wind pushes on
the shadows tag along

each new streetlight
gives birth to a silhouette
a darker, shallower me
following alongside

as her head turns to the sky
i see the stars
as her hair blows back
it whips my face

they will do anything to keep up,
the driver and she
scaling speed bumps and curbs
and neighboring lanes

disappearing into the pavement
they taper into nothingness.
when the streets are dark
they are gone

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Birthday And A Lip Dub

The whole fam at Skye's 12th birthday celebration. "Happy Birthday Homegirl! From Sapporo."

This video makes me happy. Thanks to Krysta for introducing me to it.

Monday, May 28, 2007

Sunday Secrets

My favorite this week.