Motherwise Cracks

While my daughters are having a grand old time in Australia, leaving me to worry, I do have the added luxury of cat sitting during their vacation down under. (What do I worry about? Besides just about everything, that is a boatload of water to fly over for a vey long time.)

This cat hates me but it’s nothing personal – she hates everyone. And just when I thought my refereeing days were over, doesn’t this cat decide to feud with my cat. This is all taking place throught a window as my cat is an outside cat and this one is an indoor cat. The big difference between fighting cats and fighting kids is that the cats actually listen to me when I yell at them to stop. And they can’t give you the finger behind your back.

And this cat hisses at me no end. It matters not that I am the one who feeds her. I am still undecided as to whether or not I will clean the litter box before my daughter gets back. The thought of it makes me second guess the frequency of her suggested feeding schedule. She is pretty scrawny already so I had better not make any adjustments.

My window is splattered with cat spittle on both sides but I won’t bother not clean it until this brat of a cat is back at her home after the kids trip. Either then or next spring. Or if I am having company over with fairly good eyesight. One good thing about your friends getting older is their failing eyesight. This gives me solace after my time in front of the 8x makeup mirror each day too.

Not exactly an account like those from the more famous cat women like Ertha Kitt or Julie Newmar, eh? Well, at least I don’t have to fight with men in tights carrying shark spray in their utility belts. And those cat women got to wear masks to cover up any new wrinkles or other imperfections. I am pretty daring but I don’t think I can pull that one off.

“Time to accessorize.” ~ Catwoman

What would you do if your packages were delivered onto a wet soggy porch when your front door with a dry covered porch is ten, count ‘em, ten steps to the right? All year long, the packages get delivered to the covered front porch until Christmas, when they get plopped into a puddle by the side door that is just a tad closer to the delivery truck.

I made this sign to help the delivery guys out. I wanted to be very clear as to where to leave packages. That way, my $75 canvas photo delivered in a cardboard box wouldn’t get ruined, which would mean I would call the delivery service and make them pay for it. But in the spirit of Christmas joy and understanding, I decided to just make it clear with this bright sign designed with red and white holiday colors, exactly where deliveries should be made.

The kids said it was “bitchy” but I don’t see it. Once again, in the spirit of Christmas joy and understanding I decided to clarify my feelings on the subjet to the words of John Lennon’s Happy Christmas Song.

So this is bitchy
And what have you done
Another package delivered
And it’s another wet one
And so this is bitchy
I hope you can read
The near and wet porch
Isn’t the one.

A very covered and dry porch
And the preferred spot
Is ten steps to the right
Without much extra effort
And so this is bitchy
For all delivery services to see
For I like my packages
As dry as can be
And so put my packages
For a better customer-client relationship
On the covered porch
And let’s stop all the wet packages
So we can have a merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let’s hope you get the message
Without just a tinge of healthy fear
And so this is bitchy
And what have I done
Another door to the right, dear
And you’ll make me feel fun
And so this is bitchy
But what can I do
The near and the wet one
Will let my items get ruined
Giving me a grumpy Christmas
And a snappy New Year
Let’s hope you get the message
With a tinge of healthy fear
War is over, with careful deliveries
If you want it
War is over, I might even take this sign down…
Now…

When the kids were younger, I limited their TV viewing time because I was very mean and wanted them to grow up with at least half a brain. When I did let them watch TV, it wasn’t just anything on the tube, the shows had to be suitable – to me, of course.

One of their favorites were the KidSongs videos and songs and we played the videos over and over until you could probably see through the tape. They often will reminisce about some of the songs so when I happened to stumble upon the KidSongs site with downloadable songs to record to a CD or an iPod, I couldn’t resist.

Thirteen songs and $13 later, I had some of their favs downloaded and burned to a CD that I decorated with photos. This get me exactly 13 seconds of appreciation – they did love it but the jury is still out whether it was worth it. Once again, I feel victim to my fond memories of my child-rearing past. Now I will probably get spammed with announcements about new releases. Too bad there are no songs with accompanying videos about kids fighting, screaming and tantrums. It would provide some balance, that’s all I am saying.

Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving. ~ Albert Eienstein

SIDEBAR: Or “dunh”, the word my son texts for done because he says that it is shorter. I am paying big bucks for college and four words equals four words any way you write it, but I digress…

Thanks to the wonder of the Internet, I have completed all my Christmas shopping. The only thing yet to do is make the sign for the door on the side porch where the UPS guy keeps leaving my gift items in the rain and wet to direct him to the large, covered wrap-around porch that is ten steps further but will keep my gift items dry. I am working on a graphic for that now. Perhaps just a big “DUH” would do the trick. It’s so hard to be nice when people are so lazy and stupid silly.

One of the items that the lazy little UPS guy left in the puddle collecting by the side porch door where it’s wet, was the amazing 10×14 Easy Canvas Print that I had made of the family when we were “dunh” dropping off my son for his first year at college.

It is a family favorite as we all look good in it and it is before I began sobbing hysterically so my eye makeup is still intact. You won’t be able to tell because I don’t post photos of my family online where you can actually make out anything for privacy reasons, but I just had to show it off in some form because it is awesome. I was a little afraid that putting our favorite photo on canvas might ruin the detail, but it didn’t. It looks great. I liked it so much, I friended them on Facebook too – just in a jolly holiday mood, I guess!

The next task to complete for the holidays is baking cookies. I wonder if the wonder of the Internet can somehow perform that for me too? I have the best recipe for cookies and the trouble with that is that people request them, and then you are stuck. In retrospect, it may have been smarter to use a dry and bad tasting recipe as this is the 20th year of me having to make cookies for the whole crowd that get eaten before the meal so I get complaints after dinner that I didn’t make enough.

Lucky for me, the girls will do the decorating if I make the dough. I guess hand mixing the cold hard butter into the flour and sugar is good for my biceps. I think that’s how Jillian Michaels gets hers.

People from Buffalo are the best sports in the world.

You have heard that practice makes perfect? Yes, have had the most practice (at losing).

It doesn’t seem to matter, because we still love our sports. And we are good sports, too.

I sometime wonder that if we began to win, would we know what to do? It would be so confusing, especially since our outlook on life is from the “wide right” and our range of emotions experienced during sporting events stays pretty close to the “no goal” crease. What would it BE like to root for a winning team?

• How would we keep our wits and tongues sharp if we didn’t need to come up with snappy responses when people call us losers?
• Would we still have the same quality of delicious tailgate fare if we didn’t need that comfort food to get us through the game?
• Would we enjoy our $6 beer in the stands as much if it weren’t drowning our sorrows?
• Would we find another use for our middle fingers exiting the parking lot of ” The Ralph” when that carload of Patriots’ fans is looking so smug?
• Would it get boring to not ride on that roller coaster of wild dreams and unrealistic expectations each week?
• Would I be able to get/afford game tickets if we started to win?

I say that there is something to be said for a comfort zone. And it won’t be what I am saying in the stands when the snow starts flying and the wind starts whipping.

For the Erie is a-risin’ / An’ the whiskey’s getting’ low. / I hardly think we’ll get a drink / Till we get to Buffalo.
– Lyrics to “Ballad of the Canal”

So why the heck do I bother with a garden if it means I don’t get the fruits of my husband’s labor? He worked very hard to grow such a nice garden and, sure I got some tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, corn and eggplant out of the deal, but why no squash?

At first I thought that perhaps the squash that he had been bragging about must not have been put in the right place, namely my basement, and perhaps they were still in the garage. Then I checked around and they were nowhere to be found, but on a visit to my mother-in-law’s house, I spied them by her kitchen door.

While I so kindly offered the complete summer months of my support, offered no cost supervision, and bought ten tomato stands at considerable expense, I apparently am not getting any squash. (Perhaps if I had actually helped in the garden I might have rated some squash?)

When the kids were home, I would make them weed, hoe and water the garden as part of their daily chores. It was hard work too, getting them to do physical labor in the hot summer sun, so I definitely did my part back then. But, now that they are gone, it’s come down to doing it myself with so many things. It just doesn’t seem right. I miss them AND I get extra work? Where’s the payoff?

Well, they tell me they will be cleaning my house and helping with the Thanksgiving meal so perhaps I might see something deposited in my empty nest account this week.

I am off the the store to get some squash for Thanksgiving. I guess I pay for it one way or another.

“A man’s children and his garden both reflect the amount of weeding done during the growing season.” ~ unknown

My friend asked me to go with her to the Metropolitan Cooking Show in Washington DC this past weekend and I got a dream job – handing out tons and tons of fudge. (And I didn’t drool on any of it.)

While there were a ton of folks who attended, my highlight was making a YouTube video with the American National Cattlewomen but I didn’t make the cut as it isn’t one of the videos they used. Just as well because I looked like hell. My only regret is that I am unable to use it to embarrass my children with it being on YouTube for all to see. Maybe next time.

I did successfully hand out about 40 pounds of fudge, talk to thousands of people and much to my surprise, not ONE of them was grumpy. My takeaway learning from this is that people are nice when you give them sweets and/or chocolate. Going through life, I don’t think one could actually use this strategy as it would be pretty costly and believe it or not fudge is heavy, but it’s a thought.

It reminded me of Mrs. Haney in my neighborhood as a child. We only went to visit her because she gave us a piece of chocolate. We would actually knock on the door and ask for it. And she obliged! We had no shame. It simply was what one did when passing her house.

So I guess this weekend I was the new Mrs. Haney – sans the moo moo – which brings me back to the American National Cattlewomen. I did get a meat thermometer for doing the video but I haven’t figured out a way to use that to impress anyone yet.

“I have a hard time defending the production of candy, given that it is basically crack for children and makes them dependent in unwholesome ways.”  ~ Steve Almond

P.S. Dear Steve Almond, if I had the last name of a nut, I wouldn’t go around saying such things. Everyone knows it not crack for children – it’s for all of us. Geez.

I thought my Halloween costume making days were over but much to my surprise, I was called into action for my creative abilities. I helped make by daughter look like a bottle of citrus scented bodywash because she and her cousins were going to a party as a complete line of shower products. Yes, I can cut shapes out to look like lemons, limes and grapefruits like nobody’s business. And you’d envy just how well I can draw in pulp and sections on them.

It reminded me of all of the costumes we made over the years and especially of the one that I made when my other daughter wanted to be a salad. She ended up winning a contest so I think I did okay with what I thought was a very strange request for a costume from a child who didn’t touch a vegetable for another good ten years.

And speaking of vegetables, after my art session, I ran home to babysit my nieces and was amazed that someone so small had the fine motor skills to be able to actually pick ONE pea out of a bowl of peas with the serving spoon when I told her she had to have a very small helping of them. I let her get away with that just out of sheer awe.

I let them stay up pretty late, eat cake and ice cream, drink soda and then they ratted me out to my brother when he came home. No good deed…

So I am not sure if I will get any more babysitting jobs but at least I am assured that I am still considered a good pick for costume making. Nothing like job security.

“If the cut of the costume indicates intellect and talent, then the color indicates temper and heart.”
~ Thomas Carlyle