I'm Allergic to Sunshine!! (#1 0f 3 Trips Down Memory Lane)

((Cue Narrator)) Once upon a time The Onion had a short span of free time, so she started a blog (Sound familiar?).  The Onion wrote several posts and when it wasn't picked up immediately for a book contract (or she got an actual job which required work) the blog was forgotten about. It was a mean spirited blog called, The Freaks I Meet. Amazingly, The Onion found it tonight in the Blogspot archives, but has no clue how to get access to it again, since it was 5 years of passwords ago.  Please enjoy the blogging stylings of The Onion, circa 2006...because she did the work, dammit. She wants someone to read it.


WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 01, 2006

I'M ALLERGIC TO SUNSHINE!

In my limited life experience, I have had the pleasure and displeasure of working with volunteers. A lot of them. And, I have come to believe that most are volunteering because NO ONE WILL HIRE THEM.

At one such recent encounter, I was exposed to a plethora of "freaks I meet" types, all locked in one room for several days of volunteer training. Since all of the lodging and meals were paid for, you can imagine who came out of the woodwork. It was like an alternate universe, or a Star Trek convention. I have seen a similar audience at the annual free hunter feed, held at our town's American Legion. (At least they had booze.)

* It must be said that the true low point of this trip for most attendees (blogger excluded) was that the hotel developed a case of BEDBUGS in several areas of the hotel (thankfully not mine). Yep. WAAAAY too much talking about it the next day. And visuals of supposed bites. 




The LOUD TALKER

This rather large, mannish-voiced woman was the one who preferred to sit in the very front, center seat, arms crossed and legs splayed out like a trucker - the first hint of a potential freak. She wore glasses that made her eyes seem 6 times their size, which made you open YOUR eyes even wider, as if to compete. She talked several decibels above what is considered normal, not quite yelling, but definitely like she had worked artillery in the Army. I immediately avoided the loud talker since her voice made my eyes squint, but I couldn't help but overhear her conversation EVERYWHERE, but only snippets.  This only increased the laugh factor. Imagine, if you will, this swirling dialogue in a voice just loud and low enough to break the din of any other conversation:

".........BEDBUGS - MUSTA BEEN 7 OF 'EM!..." (Lifting her shirt to expose bites - yep, she sure did)

".......FROM SOUTHERN SOUTH DAKOTA 'RIGINALLY, MOVED BACK IN oH-2.."

"...........HEAD INJURY IN '84.......".  (not making this up. Nope.)

Just to compete with her man voice, she had the biggest boobs in creation on her 6'4 frame, which she covered in the thinnest of white t-shirts. (Remember the Donger's girlfriend in Sixteen Candles?? She was the loud talker's prettier sister). She wore the low ponytail, which she put in and out throughout the day, whenever the exertion of our mundane classroom training called for it, I guess.

I was a leader in this group (like being Queen of the idiots), so I wanted to make sure to be friendly and make contact with everyone.  As we walked outside of what felt like a zoo holding pen, I smiled at the nice day and said enthusiastically;

"wow, it really is a beautiful day today, isn't it?? It's nice to get out of that room and into the sun!!"

In her loud talker voice and gigantic eyes, Bedbugs barked:

"I'M ALLERGIC TO SUNSHINE!"..

turned on her heel and marched to the shade. Stunned by the loudness, as well as the remark, I just skittered away.

Being friendly is overrated sometimes.

I'm Glowing..

((whispering)) Iwonanaward


What? 


((louder hushed whisper)) I. won. an. award.


Huh?


I WON AN AWARD! I WON AN AWARD! You love me, you really, really LURRRRVE me....

Double stick tape, anyone?

OK ((smoothing shirt)) ..well, my Mom and one OTHER person like my blog. My new lovely Midwestern neighbor Hannah from 

Erratic Questions About A Simple Life (check it!)

was kind enough to list me as an award winner on her blog. Here is the award (I think)

Not to BRAG, but I was listed first on the list..just sayin'.

Since this is my first award (wiping tear), and so unexpected... I do not have an acceptance speech ready. 


Really, no bullshit.. I got nothin'.  


Just thanks to "THE ACADAMAY...." (just kidding).  Seriously, thank you to Hannah and the rest of you crazy cats who read my weird ideas, embarrassing stories and other generalized nonsense. I am cracked.

The responsibilities of this award are that I share 7 things about myself that will surprise and delight you. Hmmm. Or maybe disgust you. We'll see. I am listing them quick, before I come off of the high of my win. And, because I have to pick up the apes in about 15 minutes. 

 1.  I have a twin sister who looks nothing like me. She used to hide her head under the covers so if a murderer came in, he would get me first. I confess, I slept closest to the door for the very same reason. 


What were our parents letting us watch on TV?

A not very flattering picture, but who
can resist a skull bowling ball shot?

Sister and her sweet Baboos
Next time, she won't share her
 Shutterfly password..
Photo Credit to the talented Scott Mooney

2. I suspect I have a repetitive motion injury in my wrist known as "blackberry syndrome" (STOP LAUGHING - I'm serious), which is from my crack-a-lackin' addiction to the berry.  When folks about town hear this, there will be a rousing chorus of "no sh*t!"  ..Rude. 

3.  Although I am a Wyoming native, I am not homophobic or racist. Neither are most of us. I do tend to discriminate against idiots, but I feel badly about it.

4.  I have not completed my college degree (the horror!) I am within spitting distance, but suddenly it just became less important. It will always be there. I have always had good jobs, so no complaints.

5. I wanted to be a writer when I was young. I imagined myself in Mary Tyler Moore boots, living in a city, writing for a magazine like Sassy, and later, Jane. I idolized Jane Pratt.

6. I don't like ketchup. On anything. Don't judge.

Blech.

7. When I eat foods that there are a quantity of (like M&M's, etc), I have to eat them "evenly". As in, two on one side of my mouth, chew, swallow. Then, two on the other side. It is my own little dash of OCD. It's a layer.

Now, I am supposed to list 10 blogs I feel are award-worthy. I am a new blogger, so I come across new things I like everyday, and may not even have 10?  However, these are my go-to's, in the order they were in on my follow list (I am on a TIME LIMIT people!) 

• 
  
• Hyperbole and a Half - Me (and 10 zillion others) love Hyperbole's zany humor and accompanying illustrations. It looks like kid stuff, but then slaps you on the ass with the writing. Don't read this in a business meeting. You won't be able to keep from snorting. 
• 
  
• Dangerous Leanings - I am a little new to this one, but it has that thing: that quirky thing that I dig. 
• 
  
• Erratic Questions About A Simple Life - My new homegirl. We have these weird musings running around in our heads and those suckers just have to get out. 
• 
  
• Helen of Wichita - A great concept and great photos of a friend from high school's baby - taken EVERY DAY of the first year of her life. This is so smart. Quick and Fun to check in and see what's shaking with Helen today. 
• 
  
• Jumble Mash - She's smart and funny, and obviously knows what she is doing as a blogger. I also think she is a lot younger than me. She could teach this old dog a few new tricks. 
• 
  
• Monday Night Manners - A friend of a friend writes this blog and I love it! I need more etiquette in my life and MNM gives you a weekly dose of something to teach your youngsters, whether it is setting the table, or that you MUST always pass the salt and pepper TOGETHER (they are married). I am learning a lot!
• 
  
• Nerdy Apple Bottom - Another wife of a cop, like moi. She wrote a famous entry about her son's love of Scooby Doo, and his corresponding Daphne Halloween costume. Many judged, but NAB said "shut it", and is still saying it on behalf of her sweet baboo and all persons who are being their genuine selves. 
• 
  
• Reptiles in the Ice Cream - This girl is nuts and I love her guts! She scares me a little, tiny bit. And I hope I get invited to one of dinner parties one of these days. They seem epic.
• 
  
• Simple Dude in a Complex World - More random musings, my favorite thing. Simple Guy is getting hosed on the description, because I have GOT TO GO! 

The Long Road to Roundish and the Battle Back to Hopelessly Average

I used to be a skinny kid.

Growing up, I was a picky eater. My mother laid awake nights, worried about how little I would eat. She tried tough love, and made me sit in the kitchen until my dinner was finished. I sat. And sat some more. Missing Lawrence Welk.  Missing Hee Haw (If I strained from my seat, I could hear the last of the lyrics "you met another and pffft..you was GONE.."). My Mom tried MAKING me eat my dinner, but I wouldn't and the results of making me eat goulash were unsightly. So I subsisted on bread. Which is why I have such issues with carbs to this very day (I love you bread!)  My mom fretted that I was going to get Rickets. She pointed at my then-skinny bruised kid legs as evidence. I had no idea what Rickets were, so I hid my bony legs under the tablecloth and hoped that the jelly I put on the bread would combat whatever they were.

Meatloaf...gross.

Meatloaf...gross.

I lived to fight another few years and my skinny became average. I got married much too young and still ate whatever i wanted, which included a lot of bread and soda. My new Mother in Law (MIL) told me that i wouldn't be any good at being picky as I grew up and she was right. My husband's plate always looked more interesting than mine. Soon, i tried some of his dinner. Then, more food items were opened up to me. It was glorious -  and a curse. Gravy? I don't like gravy... or peanut butter AND syrup on my pancakes. Dang! I do...

The walls crashed in after I got pregnant with my first child. NEVER in my life have I been so hungry. I would get up in the night to eat. I would call and screech in the phone at my sister to hurry up and meet me for lunch at 10:45 am. This ravenous hunger was unheard of for me, and was a dead giveaway to people I hadn't yet told I had an alien on board. Our daughter"s DNA is probably made of cheeseburgers.

If the dots were cheeseburgers,
this would be accurate

I slimmed back down relatively quickly after she was born, but I noticed my portion selection seemed to increase. It didn't get any better with our son. I swam and walked a lot, and I had healthy pregnancies. It was the post-partum of the second pregnancy that took a knife and murdered my metabolism.

I tried the South Beach diet, which is just what a new mother needs. No energy giving carbs, just a lot of meat and eggs. One cracker or a handful of cereal felt like a shot of heroin. I made spaghetti squash and tried to tell myself it was pasta. That was the low point. I celebrated by eating a sleeve of saltines. Ok, two. With a Coke.

Processed, white-flour goodness...

Now, years later, I am just...meh. Not terrible, but never where I want to be. I like to cook and I like to eat. I like to eat after 8 pm, and I like bread and Starbucks Chai Tea. I try to eat whole grains. With butter.

Problem #1:
I have a serious problem with butter (and starch, but who's counting?).  Being home more has expanded my desire to cook and well, it is starting to show.

Problem #2:
I dislike exercise. Special Agent says I have a chip on my shoulder about it, and he may have a point. See My Running Program for exhibit A. Exhibit B is my physique, and please don't look. I camouflage as best i can. I wish I had a dress like Mrs. Roper's. That would solve a lot of problems for me, and leg shaving would be optional.

Come and knock on our door...

Did I mention i don't like exercise? Among my my similarities to a jackass is my ability to walk 20 miles.... but can't run one. It just isn't in my brontosaurus makeup. I like to move slowly and chomp the leaves (or dinner rolls) as I go. I do not like to chase around, getting my heart rate up and such. This makes cardio a difficult concept for me.

But...I have to. I JUST HAVE TO.  Fate and my increasing age and waistline demand it. My children see a sedentary mother with a workout superstar for a father. I am losing the race at cool. And...i am terrified of summer clothes and winter weight.

In My Running Program, I talk about the Couch to 5k Program, a walk/run program designed for couch potatoes. I did it for a bit, but mostly perfected the couch portion of the program. I really excelled in that area.

But I am back again and I have gone 6 whole times. It hasn't been too bad, except for when I let my 10 year old daughter join me. I would have died from embarrassment if I werent' bursting with pride at how badly she kicked ass on her decrepit ol' mother. She is not considered to be a fast runner on her sports teams, but compared to me she looked like a gazelle. She yelled "C'mon Mom" over her shoulder as her ponytail bounced. If I could have caught her, I might have hugged her. And then, pushed her down.

When I am alone, I run on a treadmill and adjust the speed up and down. I try to read the lips of the Kardashians on the elevated row of TVs and it helps pass the time. Some days, I am lucky enough to get the treadmill next to a Kelly Ripa look-alike in a tiny sports bra and shorty running shorts. I've considered suicide. I was trying to act cool at first, but accidentally stepped off of the side of the treadmill belt, making it squeal loud enough to illicit stares from the rest of the normal looking people in the room, including Kelly Ripa2. I yelled "is everybody awake now??" to break the tension.  Kelly2 smiled at me sadly. Harrumph.

This looks a lot like her, but this
Kelly is wearing a larger top 

It is obvious to she and the rest of the group that I am a newbie. I don't have my own water bottle and I almost killed myself on the treadmill belt. I can't be trusted. I probably won't last. Instead of looking fit and tan in my sports bra and running shorts, I am wearing mismatched gear and I keep having to pull my running pants up. My Ipod headphones won't stay on my ears. I am hot (hot and sweaty, that is). No one wants to be me. Even me. I want to be someone laying on the couch, eating bread and butter and watching Regis and Kelly - not huffing and puffing next to her twin.

But I am doing it people. Now, get off my back.  Or get me the number for Mrs. Roper's stylist. And pass the saltines.

I Was Tagged! (Well, Sort Of...)

 I was tagged in a round-about way by the very clever Dangerous Leanings, who was tagged by Jumble Mash to answer: What 5 things do you not leave home without? I will follow DL's lead and not tag anyone since A) I don't know how exactly; and B) only my Mom reads my blog. If you want to list your items in the comments (Mom), I'd love to read 'em. 

I am somewhat scattered, so there are times when I leave whatever I needed behind, which sucks. However, I NEVER (OK, rarely) leave the house without the following.

He might. You don't know...

1) The Crackberry -  I am no longer important to ANYONE, yet I am still carrying that thing like my third child. On the rare occasion that I don't, someone always asks me to look something up, or tries to call to tell me I have won something grand (OK, not that last part). The same people who enjoy making fun of my crackberry addiction are always the same ones who are sad and blue when my addiction is not available to help them. 

Supercalifragilistic bag, Mary!

 2) The Mary Poppins Purse - This item feels like the flirting with the UPS man kind of cheating. It is really a catch all for 10,000 random items so it doesn't seem right to list it as one item. But, I am going to list it anyway, big boy.. (coy wink). The MPP is so vast that to find most items, one has to literally stick their arm in up to the bicep and fish in a counter-clockwise pattern until they feel what seems like it might be the item they are looking for. I have tried to write many times with the travel hand sanitizer, and no matter how many times I feel the cold hard steel of the business card holder (gotcha), I think it is the mirror compact.  TSA loves the MPP and uses it as a training aid. The MPP has no real shape, so at times it is hanging half open like a gutted dinosaur. It isn't elegant. My elegant and sleek bag is just too damn small.  It won't hold a coat rack.

See that little baby purse laying down?
That's it! Shh, you'll scare it away...

3) The Purselet - Those who know me know that within the realm of the MPP resides the purselet. A 6 x 6 inch wonder that holds credit cards, punch cards for the unknown, change, business cards (mine and those I am supposed to call), random things I don't want to lose, etc.  The purselet can go out without the MPP, but the MPP does not travel without the purselet, since it holds all of the legal tender. The most beautiful and functional aspect of the purselet is the short shoulder strap. It allows me to wear this tiny little wallet where i can hold it close to me and will not lay it down while I am digging through the half-off Christmas candy bin. It's beautiful. It's wonderful. It's magical. It's the PURSELET.

Hint: Solo cups make great arm bands.

4)  A Notebook - Not THE NOTEBOOK, Ryan Gosling fans. My Notebook. Not chock full of details of a life forgotten, but moreso, details I better not forget. Anyone who finds it will think a schizophrenic wrote the notes, since it includes everything from random food item lists to website concepts to tic tac toe games, X'ed out by my children. There are phone numbers scribbled in the margins, some upside down. There are papers hanging out of the notebook that I am certain should have been attended to by now. The current notebook has Wonder Woman on it, and its my favorite. It's nicer looking replacement is a lovely patterned portfolio with a magnetic clasp. It's fancy with no guts hanging out, but its not Wonder Woman.

The top pair are the ones I wear, me and Jenny. Bend them up
a little...toss them across the parking lot a few times...
Yes, it's them!!

5) My J-Lo's - Since I hit 30, I have been addicted to sunglasses. Although it is not helping me in my anti aging process one bit, I seem to be turning into a vampire that can't stand the light (Too bad I am team Jacob). No matter how late I am, or how many times I have screeched like a howler monkey at the kids to hurry up, I will go back in for the glasses. The J-Lo's were born from losing my other glasses while on a long road to trip to nowhere, MT. I left before the sun came up, so by the time I realized the glasses were MIA, so was I...and the sun was like FIRE as I headed down the road. I happened to find a Walmart that had an Optical center, and hence the J-Lo line of sunglasses. They are sort of purple, which is not me, but options were limited. I liked them so well that when I lost THAT pair, I went right back to the Walmarket for another. I will forever think of sunglasses as J-Lo's from this point on. 

Ok folks, nothing exciting or scandalous....that I know of anyway. I feel nervous when i dig too deep. Even the purse has a lot of layers.  

The Social Awkwardness of Social Networking

Below are some excerpts from the oddest conversations I have had on Facebook recently. The ROI on my profile pic is questionable, since these are all from goofballs and not well spoken millionaires, but anyway...answer me: does this approach really work for those who are willing?  Do people really have these conversations and say "Why yes, I would love to meet up with your weird ass for a drink and possibly to be bound and gagged in the trunk of your car later.."? Discuss.

Forcible rape?? In my country we call that "seduction"

Friend request and accompanying message from a fellow from Europe who lists my high school as his, and shares several friends:


Latin Lover: 
I am liking how you are look to me. You are having boyfriend?
(I would like to add you to my collection of heads)


Me: 
Thank you. I'm married. Did you go to my high school?
(Why in the hell do you of the broken English know so many of my classmates?)


Latin Lover: 
Unintelligible explanation about high school connection... I know many peoples from you live.
(I changed my high school to yours after I saw a pretty girl who went there LAST YEAR. I can't even find Wyoming on a map)


Me: 
I am not sure I understand. Did you live in my town?
( I think you are full of shit)


Latin Lover:
I like very much your manners. Do you have a lover?
(Let's change the subject - would you like to get naked with me? )


Me:  
I am married.
(Oh sure. I will hop on a plane as soon as I am done here..NOT)


Latin Lover:
 I like to talk with lots of women I meet online. Do you want to talk with me often? 
(I want to have online chat sex and I am too cheap to pay for it. Wanna?)


Me: 
Sorry, I don't think you are reading me. I am married, so I don't think so. 
(Nope.)


Latin Lover:
You are feisty! Perhaps we could meet? 
(I would like to chain you in my basement.A few hard slaps and you would realize my passion for you.)


Me:
Um..no, I do not think we can meet. 
(Thank God for Internet Privacy controls)


((BLOCK)) 


I asked our "mutual friend" about this yahoo, and she said she didn't know who he was either, but "he sure was weird". Ya think? 
*************************************************************************************


Message from guy with no profile pic and the same last name as our town  - very creative, no?

Lurker: 
"Attractive. married?"
(I want to have chat sex)


Me:
Thank you. Yes, married. 
(This guy wants to have chat sex)


Lurker:
Sorry to bother you.
(You're a prude)


Me: 
No bother, just a friend request
(Yes, I am a prude, but I am polite, nonetheless.)


Lurker:
Looking for friends?
(I could be wrong...Still fishing...)


Me:
Beats looking for enemies...
(sarcasm, perhaps?)


Lurker:
How about friends with benefits?
(Why not just go for it?)


Me:
Dude, you are still barking up the wrong tree. 
(Not really a hint guy, this one. Perhaps less subtle.)


Lurker:
Sorry, I am married too. Just looking for some excitement. 
(She IS a prude..but maybe she will feel sorry for me)


Me: 
You're going to find nothing but trouble methinks. Good luck. 
(I AM a prude.  I am sort of sorry for your wife. I hope she is having better luck than you are finding a suitable replacement.)
 **********************************************************************************
Accepted Friend Request from guy with a somewhat familiar name. Immediately, a chat window opens:

I feel so free. At the Loaf and Jug, I have to hide my rockin' tats. 

Band Guy: 
You are hot. 
(Your profile pic is sort of slutty looking)


Me: 
Um..why, thanks. Do we know each other already? Your name is familiar. 
(I now think I made a mistake with the profile pic AND thinking this person is someone I know)


Band Guy: 
No, but you are hot. 
(So, are you slutty, or what?)


Me: 
Again, thanks. Sorry, I thought when I got the request that we knew each other. 
(I made a mistake and I am not slutty. In fact, i am so lame I am wearing a name tag in the photo taken with our State Senator.)


Band Guy: 
I just moved here. I work at the Loaf and Jug. 
(What is a State Senator? I do not have the level of embarrassment I should have about  my part time employment)


Me: 
Welcome to our town. What brings you to our town?
(Holy shit. You are here on parole to the halfway house...)


Band Guy: 
My Band. We are opening for blah blah and blah  blah in ((nearby town)).
(I am regretting the Loaf and Jug employment announcement and am trying to seem cooler than I feel right now. I should probably take that off of my profile info) 


Me: 
You don't say. I'm sorry, I don't know either of those bands 
(because I am one hundred years older than you). 


Band Guy: 
You want to hook up? 
(May as well go for it - she DID have a slutty profile pic. Maybe she has a "bad boy thing")


Me:
No thanks, I don't think so.  
(A bad boy who works at the Loaf and Jug? Um...no. Also, i am married and one hundred years older than you.)


Band Guy:
That's cool. If you change your mind, I work at the Loaf and Jug.
(I still don't get why that turns girls off? I can get free icee's all day long!)


Me:
Thanks, you mentioned. 
(Seriously dude, stop telling girls where you work - unemployment would be more bad ass than the visual of you in the Loaf and Jug smock.)

The Feline Bourne Identity

Happy mid-January.  I am writing about my cat, furthering the rumors that I am having some manner of crazy-cat-lady nervous breakdown. But I am really quite sane, promise.

In other winter news, I bought the cheapest model of space heater for under my desk, so wish me luck that I don't burn the house down or die of some kind of poisoning from the lead paint. At least my feet will be warm when I go. In fact, my socks are smoldering at this moment.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hey gang! Get the Mystery Machine rolling! We have a Caper to solve!


Our new cat doesn't know who she is.....and neither do we (cue music). We considered calling her Janell Bourne, but my sweet baboo insisted her name should be Minnie. I have no idea why, she sure isn't "mini"; she is more "Maxi". However, Minnie it is.



Hi, I'm Minnie. Please leave me alone. I am undercover.

  The intrigue started when we went shopping for ONE cat for my kids. It was to be an early Christmas present combined with my apparent loss of reason, since we already have 2 dogs. At the shelter, the kids wanted a black wiley kitten that swiped at them from the cages, but I had set eyes on a nice, calm older cat who seemed content to let anyone hold her. So, the nice pound ladies fleeced me for what I thought would be a relatively 'free' adoption of TWO cats. 

pet tags for my two "illegal" pets already at home:  $$
pet tags for TWO cats:  $$
pre-payment for feline rabies shots:  $$$
Partial payment for spaying of TWO cats, one of which is probably already spayed:  $$$$

Kids faces when I said "Why don't we adopt BOTH?":  Priceless

 

This is the photo we sent their Dad when he asked if found A cat, singular.

Merry Christmas City Animal Shelter; to say there is no such thing as a free pet has never rang truer. 

Amidst my flurry of check writing and grousing about pet tags, the woman started feeling bad, so she started mentioning the benefits of my new cats like a used car salesman kicking the tires of a Mazda Miata. This included a final comment that the big girl had a microchip in her.

Wait. A. Second.

A MICROCHIP??  EMBEDDED IN HER CAT SKIN??? WOW! (see also, creepy.) The kids and I were suddenly looking at lazy Minnie in a brand new light. What mystery!!.... What intrigue...!

Minnie yawned. 



I think she is scanning for double agents, but I can't be sure.

What kind of info must be on such a thing? Details from the cold war? The truth behind the Kennedy assassination? The ladies from the pound eyed me warily and each other and then explained how the chip would be used to track Minnie should she become lost. Ok....so not as intriguing as we were imagining, and apparently, not very EFFECTIVE since she was now at the pound, slated for death. ??? "So, scan her up!" I yelled. The woman explained that while Minnie possessed the chip, it had not been registered by her previous owners. For the love....what a waste! No one could be bothered to register an already placed chip and now, poor Minnie was stuck in a metal box at the pound with other non-trackable unsavories like the other cat we were bringing home.

The unsavory Jazzy, looking at her Facebook.

I vowed to have Minnie registered and redeem her back to primo pet status. I also hoped that underneath all of that fur, she had a scar indicating she had already been spayed, so I wouldn't have to shell out more dough for that too. I took the note with the tracking number on it and raced home, intent on getting my high-speed, low-drag feline back on track in the spy game. Yeah......that was in November...It's now January.

I keep telling myself I am helping Minnie stay "off of the grid".
"Lay low".
"Flying under the radar".

I also had a few nightmare's about her true owners coming to get her, like orphan Annie with the locket. So, now it is (gulp) mid-January and still not registered. Oh, the failure.

but TODAY, I took Minne and the unsavory Jazzy to the vet to be spayed (the pre-pay at the pound made paying hurt a little less, for me anyway).  Minnie was pissed about having to have her belly shaved, but lo and behold, she had already been through the spaying process, so she dodged the knife and I will be headed to the Animal Shelter to cash in my pre-payment. (I hope to hell they don't have anything else in there we can't live without. I am becoming the crazy pet lady.)

I also registered Minnie with relative ease and a payment of $20 bucks. Now, she may travel to Berlin, Milan, or Uzbekistan. She won't call, she won't write....I will just have to track her by chip. I better get some of these for the sweet baboos before they go to college. And then remember to register them.