The Eyes Have It

You may recall that Cosmo is a total mama's boy. I must be in his sight at all times or he'll promptly paw though the door that separates us. Although this behavior can be a little annoying at times, I secretly love it. But what I find just a tad unnerving is what our family has come to call the "laser-eyed stare." At most points during the day, I will glance over and catch Cosmo searing me with his adoring laser-beam eyes. It's almost stalkerish. Anyhoo, I managed to grab a camera and snap a couple of photos of his sweet, yet disturbing motherlover gaze. Enjoy.




This is his typical stance when I am sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. He wants to sit in my lap and most times I invite him to join me. Other times, I am in no mood for the waterfall of drool that is certain to pool on my clothing. In that case, he visually serenades me from below. Maybe I should have named him Romeo.








This picture says it all. Cosmo loves to snuggle and constantly implores me to come to bed so he can burrow under the covers and plaster his fuzzy body against mine. Quite often, he'll plant himself on the bed and stare at me, quietly beckoning me to join him. At the time this picture was taken, I was picking up clutter in the living room. He must have laser-eyed me from the bedroom for half an hour.

Even as I type this, Cosmo's eyes are burning through the back of my neck. Perhaps to appease him, I should just stay in bed all day. Hmmmm... that's not a bad idea.

More Absurd Methods for Self-Amusement, By Angie

Words are funny; sometimes the sound of a word will send me into fits of uncontrollable giggling, a la Beavis and Butthead. I try to use these words whenever possible... not to impress others with my obscure use of the English vernacular (vernacular...he, he, he...), but simply to entertain myself. Here's a few of the words that never fail to amuse me. Some may not appear so humorous in print, but say them out loud in a sentence -- you're certain to crack a smile or at least garner curious looks and polite head nods from your friends.

Scapula: I'm up to my scapula in paperwork!

Titillate: I am oddly titillated by this episode of Who's the Boss.

Ambrosia: Marge, this Hamburger Helper is pure ambrosia!

Scurvy: Eat your orange slices, kids...don't want anyone around here gettin' the scurvy! You remember what happened to the school bus driver, old Mr. Spongy Gums McGee...

Slovenly: Will you please wipe that orange pulp off your face -- you look perfectly slovenly! And hurry up... the bus will be here in five minutes and old Mr. Spongy Gums McGee won't wait for anybody!

Chafe: I felt especially chafed by that comment Mildred made about my meatloaf.

Now, I shall indubitably delight myself by using the above words together in a sentence.

I'm usually titillated by Betty's visits, but she chafed me to no end when she showed up at my front door, smelling less like ambrosia and more like burnt toast, looking slovenly, pulling up her shirt to expose the scurvy spots on her scapula.

He, he, he...

When I am an Old Woman, I Shall Wear Pajama Bottoms to Walgreen's

As I age (OK - I'm only 39, but I'm feeling wise and Maya Angelouish this morning), I am less concerned with putting up appearances and fretting over sanctimonious scrutiny others may cast upon me. It's quite a liberating feeling and one that I hope continues until I'm an old lady wearing pajama bottoms to Walgreen's and singing "Come on Eileen" from the open windows of my phat Buick LeSabre. I know that saying "life is short" sounds so cliche, but *for realsies yo* it's the truth. My cats are great role models for the "don't give a crap what people think" ideology. Although they sport nine lives, each one is bursting with such lyrical laissez faire (or lazy fair), that even Maya Angelou is taking notes. Not that I'd literally copycat some of this feline etiquette, but the free-spirited frame of mind is certainly inspiring.

* They ask for what they want, when they want it...even if it means getting in people's faces and speaking loudly.

* When they don't get what they want, they make their statement and keep moving. This sometimes looks like a pile of poo on the outside of the litter box or a mangled and then regurgitated flower arrangement. Point taken.

* They maintain masterful hygiene habits, but aren't embarrassed if a few tufts of fur are out of place or if an ear is flipped inside out for a while.

* They know when they want to listen and when they want to tune out what they perceive as nonsense.

* They enjoy a good snuggle, but will tell you when they need their space.

* They could care less if you judge them for unsavory behavior like butt-sniffing other cats or eating out of the garbage.

Yes, cats are wise beyond their lives and we can all take life lessons from these shrewd swamis. So go ahead... ask for that second piece of cake, ignore that crazy neighbor, and smell some butts -- I won't judge you.

Deep Thoughts...With The Bailey Cats

My cats amuse me on so many levels. I especially love it when they simply stand and stare at....nothing. You know exactly what I'm talking about, right? They appear completely zoned-out, stuck on a layover in feline-la-la-land. My favorite position for this meditative pose is when they stare at a blank wall. What do they see? Are they visualizing a fresh paint job? Perhaps they are focusing their telekinetic powers to create a hole in the wall so they can escape to the outdoors, eat lots of grass and throw up on my entryway rug. Or maybe their thoughts are much like Homer Simpson's...you know, hula dancers and old timey cartoons of cows on a see-saw. Here are a few thought bubbles that I'm certain are floating above the fuzzy brows of my kit-kats:

Phoebe: I'd really like a good, long sniff of Cosmo's butt right now.

Cosmo: Is it possible to somehow open the cabinet doors above the fridge and confiscate the treat jar? Better ask for Phoebe's help on this one.

Saffy: Can I somehow slip my large, sheep-like grey body past Mom and Dad and eat the rest of Phoebe's breakfast?

Phoebe: Why does Saffy always eat my breakfast?

Cosmo: My mouth feels especially moist today.

Saffy: *cartoon mice on a see-saw*

Phoebe: I hope the humans don't find my secret stash of stolen bracelets and Little Debbies.

Cosmo: Why does the boy-child insist on holding me like a doll? I wish there were magical, free treat dispensers located in each room of this house. I wonder what Mama's doing right now. I hope she's buying that baby Snugli to carry me in. I love her so much. My mouth is really moist.

Saffy: I'm hungry. I wonder if there are any goodies on the kitchen counter. Does Phoebe have any breakfast left over in her bowl? I think I feel a hair ball coming on. *cartoon mice on a see-saw*.

Phoebe: Cosmo is in the other room and I can still smell his butt. Yum.

I Scored a BINGO With These Scrabble Products

To which I've alluded approximately 28379273 times, I'm a Scrabble geek. Although strictly a social living room player, I'm toying with the idea of purchasing a timer. I think the tension and excitement of the ticking timer (well, the new timers are digital, so I'm referring to the metaphorical ticking) is exhilarating, but will likely feed my anxiety and perhaps push me closer toward a Xanax prescription. Alas, I must have one. As I scanned the Scrabble sites for timers, I became entranced with the stockpile of Scrabble stuff available to both the casual and competitive word nerd. In case anyone wants to purchase a nifty word gifty for moi, here is my personal vernacular gift registry.

This bag from Zazzle cracks me up. Word to your tile bag.



These earrings from Eclectic Elements are da bomb. You can even choose your own letters for the tiles. What if I chose two blank ones?

Love this shirt from Word Gear. I just have to remember to not wear it when I am playing because my opponents might be wearing their cheater pants*.

*Cheater pants not available at Word Gear.


Although I don't think my rack compares to this lady's, I would totally wear this shirt from Zazzle.

Mother's Day Letters From My Cats

Dear Mama,
Because today is Mother's Day, I promise to:

* Snuggle with you and not let Phoebe and Cosmo bully me out of your lap.
* Chirp at the birds a few extra times because I know you love that.
* Let you brush my luxurious fur as long as you want and not whine.
* Regurgitate hairballs when Daddy is watching so you won't have to clean up the mess.

Love,
Saffy












Dearest Mother,
For me, every day is Mother's Day. My entire life is encompassed with following you and anticipating your next move so I can curl up in your lap or flatten my body as close to your head as felinely possible. I was thinking that, since you love me best and all, it would be a great idea for us to be physically connected at all times. What do you think about you buying me this for Mother's Day? It would be a gift for both of us, really....


Yours, and Only Yours,
Cosmo

p.s. You could Scotch-Guard it against drool.








Dear Mommy,
I found this great stick of butter on the kitchen counter and thought you might enjoy it as a Mother's Day gift.... It's a little chewed around the edges now, but I think it's good. Do you still want it?

Kisses,
Phoebe

Are You There, Orville? It's Me, Angie.

This morning my brain feels like a pan of popping popcorn -- thoughts flying every direction with some idea-kernels lying lazy and unpopped on the bottom of my brain (which, coincidentally, smells a little like burning oil). Since I feel unable (read:unmotivated) to formulate a thoughtful blog entry this morning, I thought I'd dump a heaping serving of my brain-popcorn in a bowl for you. Enjoy.



*pop*

Today I learned that my recent digestive issues are less likely to been derived from Swine Flu and more likely related to tossing back too much Magnesium supplements. I'm crazy like that.

*pop*

I am not going to worry about the state of my house when my friend comes over today.

*pop*

John makes the best omelettes in the history of eggs. I think he should open an omelette restaurant and call it "Omelette You Eat My Eggs."

*pop*

The in-between part of growing one's hair out is an unfortunate time of futile creativity and hat-wearing.

*pop*

I can look at a pile of cat vomit and usually tell which one of my cats deposited it. Is that weird or just plain gross?

*pop*

Co-directing teenagers in a school play is exhilerating and exhausting all at the same time. Some of them need help projecting their voices and some are always projecting their voices.

*pop*

I never thought I'd say this, but I want to see the new Star Trek movie*

*pop*

Can Danny Gokey pleeeeeeze leave American Idol soon? And take whoever has been dressing him?

*pop*

I want a cute teapot. My friend has a great clear teapot and these gorgeous bulbs that blossom in the tea while it is steeping. Sooooo cool. I want that.

*pop*

*pop*

*sizzle*

*burning oil smell*

*thick smoke*

*fire alarm*

A Cosmic Kind of Love

I love Cosmo. I'll even tolerate his drippy, drool-spigot of a mouth that soaks my clothing because when he looks at me he may as well have those cartoon hearts pulsing in his eyes. Never mind that I can't spend more than three minutes behind a closed door in the bathroom before he's desperately hammering away at the door. It makes no difference that his high-pitched mews slice my sleep at 4:30am. I could care less that he wants to park his fuzzy butt in the most awkward spots on the bed at night, causing me to twist my body into positions that would challenge even Gumby. Why do I endure these quirks that might drive someone else to toss out the whole kitten caboodle? He's the only cat that's ever claimed me for their very own. I'm elated that he enjoys being held like a baby and melts into my shoulder, his body buzzing with purrs and drooling like a deliriously happy baby. I am over-the-moon, smitten with this kitty cat. And maybe it sounds a little selfish, but I love that he adores me better than anyone else in his furry, drippy little world.