not much to write but so much to say

I have had too much to write lately but so much of it personal that it would have blown your mind or hurt your widdle-feewings so you didn't get none.

instead I'll give you an exerpt of a chat today.

he says, "cuz god gave us this big apple and said don't touch,don't think about touching it,don't sing bout touching it, don't sing about thinking a bout touching he said don't touch it"

I reply, "I'm going to eat the apple. First off ,I'm going to touch it, rub it, lick it, then chomp into it and make a lot of noise about it.

I might even wave it around a little bit and let all the juice roll down my wrist while it's in the air before bringing it back down to my mouth and taking another bite.

If God is real, he'll forgive my sins

ta da!"

edumakated - I wuz skooled

Welcome to the Wonderful World of Books!
This is how Kimberly the plump pallid pigtailed girl behind the desk pitched librarian speak to me today when she handed over my shiny new card.

It has been 22 years since I've entered the musty tomes of a library and why would I return after all of these years? There are all sorts of reasons but one stands front and center in my mind.

This is probably very silly to you, my fond readers  (1 of you in particular) but after reading a "NOTES" (on Facebook) challenge that said the BBC believes most people will have only read 6 of these 100 noted books, I thought, "WHAT THE FUCK - is someone indicating that we are all illiterates?". By the way you 2 knuckle fucks, I had 31 of them fully read and quite a few more partially accomplished.

This has been bugging the shit out of me for a couple of days now so I took the initiative, went to my local book peddler and plucked my first 2 unread classics off the shelves to get started. Let me tell you something.
First off, the customers of a library haven't changed all that much.

There are the students with noses tucked deep into books and spiral bound notebooks on tables beside them with post-it note flags sailing at varying levels within the books.

Mothers flipping through periodicals while the children happily read large colorful hard backed books and then the strange ones that are pecking away at the computer pods, trying to turn their body and shield the screen from prying eyes - we all know they have some naughty bits they are looking at even though it's not allowed. 

footsteps are muffled by the carpet, sunlight streaming through the sky lights and slight murmur of the librarians as they assist people checking out.

This 100 book this was really on my mind so I DID research to find that the first Google hit was actually a meme.

After it's all said and done - between the 100 books listed there are really only 67 "shared" between the BBC list and the facebook community created list.
I'm going to challenge myself to read the list, EXCEPT those fucking Harry Potter books over the next year. Perhaps I'll even blog about them something akin to Julie & Julia movie.

I'm a bright gal and can devote a few minutes a day to my classics AND my porn! shesh, multi-tasking isn't that difficult.

you want more

I'm working on it people - hold your horses.

No Poo in this story!

At 4 a.m. I was finally trying to go to bed. Much too tired to shut off the bedside lamp, I rolled to one side and squeezed my eyes shut. My efforts were made impossible because of the cat that was acting tortured on the other side of the bedroom door.

Thanks to the husband, he ruined our cohabitation situation when we moved to the new place. There is no privacy in the bedroom anymore!

Sort of hoping to experience for the first time in all of the years of pussycat ownership a feline-free sleeping environment I'd opted to not invite any of them into my boudoir. It was a little experiment of sorts and then one afternoon he thought, oh my my wife looks like she could use her baby-girls company.

The door opens and in comes..LUNA!

Holy Smokes!

I LOVE THAT CAT. Don't get me wrong. That cat is my heart. She's tattooed just above my heart, I've had her for nearly 12 years now and I can't imagine her gone. I want to clone her. I don't ever want her to go, don't even speak of it!
She's the reason I fell madly deeply in love with the breed and she's the reason that I worked so hard for so many years in attempt to better it.

Luna knows this and uses it to her advantage.

Do you know the old wives tale about how a cat will creep into a baby crib and snatch the breath of a baby, murdering it.

I'm the baby and Luna is out to kill me - but only because she loves me.
She wants to crawl inside of me and share the same heartbeat, she wants to taste the food I'm eating using my mouth and tongue. She wants to speak with my vocal cords, and if she could...she would try to make love to my husband. She wants to receive his attention because she's extremely jealous when he touches me, will push her way between us.
Let's just say she's a demanding cat.

All of my years alive I've been a poor sleeper and when I added her to my life I soon started getting even less. She's a comfort to have in the beginning, holding her soft sweet body and feeling the gently rumble of her purrs but soon she creeps and slithers out of your grasp.

Inching up your body, hugging close to you but using her nails to make sure she has a tight purchase..she wouldn't want to lose touch or have someone remove her from the one thing she values the very most in the world!

Oh NO, and if anyone DOES try to take her away from me or the bed she SCREAMS at them.

MEH MEH - she miaows in a way that is comical. mouth wide open, lips curled back a touch to expose those razor sharp teeth and then she flattens her tongue and sticks it out partially...MEH MEH

For the first 2.5 weeks I slept. Not a lot because I just don't sleep a lot, but it was without a cat on my face, without a foot in my mouth, without a tail slapping me in the eyes, without cat litter in the sheets or a smear of crap sometimes finding its way on your pillowcase in the middle of the night and you are surprised by the odor when you roll your face right into it.

Yup, 2.5 weeks I felt like I had a good thing going and then, well, then Luna found her way back into the comfort zone. She forgot she was a 'cat' and she became the bedroom queen again. She comes in and becomes a demanding diva, hogging up space, wanting to be on the best pillow and she'll somehow roll herself up like some sort of kitty chimmichanga in my fleece blanket.

I never know how to unravel her, there doesn't seem to be an opening to where you can safely yank her out and I wonder how the fuck did she get in there to start with?

If I don't open that bedroom door for her she will sit outside of it and start scratching like a dog does to go out to shit. Those 10 claws grating on your nerves and she's persistent and knows that eventually you'll just give in.
I'll tell her "NO" ..."Go Away"...maybe I'll even toss a few things at the door and hope it'll chase her off.

No such luck, because then she'll put her paws under the door with wrists turned so she can get a purchase and then start shimmying the whole thing.

How in the Hell does this tiny old cat that looks like a vanilla bat-Gremlin managed to jiggle a solid core wooden door until I can feel the whole house shaking? Maybe its just my imagination because my nerves are frayed and I'm about to go straight out of my mind.

Grumbling to myself now..swearing..'fucking husband,letting her in and now I have to deal with this shit all of the time... while you sleep through it...'

I get up and open the door just a crack and she comes running in like she's got the Grim Reaper on her tail. Zips passed me before I can even lean over and snatch her up and while I'm trying to get her another one comes in.
FUCK.
While she's running by me she's yelling. MEH MEH MEH. Her announcement that she's in and she's won the battle. Ha Ha Ha human, I'm in and now you can't get rid of me.

Prepare the bed, I'm ready for my slumber. I want a massage as well. Rub my back, stroke my head and ears until I close my eyes and fall asleep. No, not until YOU fall asleep.

Both leap into the bed and get between where the husband and I sleep. This is where the blankets have been jammed into a heap its where I've flung them off of me to go and open the door. Perfect, I can already see the tiny gears working in her head and she's thinking, "my very own dream mountain".

She pile drives into it and somehow is immediately gone, her disappearing act performed before my very eyes and she becomes the kitty-chimmi just like that.

I lay down, curl up and shiver because I've lost my bedding and stare at the wall listening to the snores around me until I fall asleep.
When I wake up I can't see anything because my face is being smothered by Luna tummy.

Did I wake up because I heard something, had to pee or because I was gasping for air?

the glass slipper

It's cleaning day.

The bleach is murder on my lungs but it is a necessary evil when one has cats and dogs.

One of the cats is a real shitter. We call her poopfoot. It never fails, she must hop into the box take a healthy steamer & get a schmear onto her tail.
She will back up over the heap, bounding out of the sandbox with a mighty leap and zoom throughout the house flinging fecal matter this way and that.

Before you know it she has managed to decorate and leave a trail of dookie here there and everywhere. You will see her 4 toed rear footprints in the most surprising locations, such as: the top of refrigerator or ledges of doors. Mind you, this is a 12.5 lb cat.

Sphynx cats have unnaturally long toes that remind one of gnarled gnomish phalanges. They are also quite adept with them, using them to pick up toys, bring food to their mouth and pawing their owners faces.
Because of these tootsies they also have the ability to climb into their kitty toilets, stand about doing some business and when they have a handful of pebbles to cover up any doodie they usually have a bit extra trapped between the webbing..taking it with them on the trip back out while scattering it all over the house!

Lucky owners that we are, we are left to sweep and mop up the remains constantly. Slaves to the cats. Long ago I gave up the Hoover for a ShopVac.

Dragging along one of those canisters, the powerful motor running and humming reliably and promising to suction up every granule.
Never missing a thing, making my chore easier..never any harder than necessary.
One trip through with that honey and then I can get right to work with my bucket of water, that's where the real work starts no thanks to my effing' mother and her training.

Why did I have to learn this habit from her?
Onto my hands and knees I crawl with a scrub brush in 1 hand, a rag in the other. My assault like Cinderella minus the glass slipper but I can feel the hot breath of an evil step-mother haunting me.

I think that perhaps it might be one of my old cats with halitosis, they come to assist me with all of the chores, breathing down my neck. Shoo them away all you want but they come back just like a bad penny.

Dunking my brush into the bucket saturate the tiles, I scrub and swirl, scrub and swirl feeling my underarm flab sway with the motion. I think to myself that if I did this every day maybe I wouldn't have underarm flab!

Nope, I'm not going to do that!

I work a 4 foot section, dunking my rag in and giving it a good wipe down, ringing it out, rinse and..
Repeat.

The water turns gunky and I know its time to switch it out. Is it because of the color? Or my hands have turned prune-like?
Maybe its the fact that I've tie-dyed yet another wife-heater with bleach, good thing I buy stock in these just for cleaning days.

My face is beet red, knees have dirt and litter ground into them and I have a line of sweat rolling down my butt crack.
Dead sexy!

Dragging the bucket to the basin because I'm not supposed to lift heavy stud yet, I scootch it all the way there until I reach my destination then steel myself for the heave-Ho.
Lift-grunt-pour.

Naturally (like an idiot) I splash myself, refill and start the next section of the house.

When I'm all finished with hand scrubbing the whole house I will go back through with a mop of citrus scented soap, this way the house won't reek of bleach. I had the windows flung open but it didn't help much because I had my nose jammed into the pail sniffing fumes the entire time.

Not even close to being unpacked, the Rubbermaid boxes are now landmines throughout the joint. Most are stacked into corners but some ate Willy nilly and have become cat jungle gyms, they need to be swept around and are just one more surface to clean.

Tomorrow I am having company over, the mortification begins.
I really can't stand seeing the place in such disrepair but what can I do? There isn't a magic wand to wave and then have it all miraculously put itself away.
The good news is (for everyone)....
My visitor is coming to install the internet!

Hot diggity damn! I will finally be back amongst my little world of social networking. Connected again to 'friends', able to upload my blogs, chat with total strangers, look at porn, play online games, Google stuff, (or myself..wait that's looking at porn) also forget about cleaning the house for awhile!

So I'd better make sure that the housework is attended to for the time being. After this fella gets his job done..its all going to Hell in a hand basket for a few days.
I'm going to be attached to the keyboard and screen for 24/7 until my eyes dry out and my fingers fall off.