Cat Butt

Dear Inconsiderate Cat,
Why do you stick your butt on my things?
Do you always have to turn around and stick your butt in my face?
Must you brush your butt-hole over the top of my beverage, rendering it undrinkable?
Why must you insist on using the carpet as your toilet paper?
You smell.
Go lick yourself (but not lying next to my head in bed, please).

Flying Braless

I was sending an office memo today to notify my coworkers of a death.
Reading the deceased's obituary got me thinking about my own death.

I know we mourn the passing of others because we are so used to them being around, and we will miss them, however, I don't want some lame ass, boring funeral where everyone just cries and walks around eating food.  I also want my obituary to be more original.  Sure, my obituary can say who outlived me, and who already died, but I think I will pre-write my obituary with fill-in-the-blank spots for the names.  Maybe something similiar to this:

Rough Draft of my Obituary

Angelique lived an awesome existence; 

she loved hanging with Bea, 

attending many Phish shows & wearing happy pants, 

marrying Tim, raising Aiden, 

dancing to more Phish, 

getting fat then getting fit, 

spending times with her family & friends 

and petting pussies.  

Angelique also really loved:

 hula hoops, bubbles, things that glow, and things that bounce.

She was survived by: (list survivors.. don't forget surviving pets!)

She was predeceased by: (insert those that died before me; including pets!)

The celebration of Angelique's life & transitioning to her bodiless existence will be held:  (insert place and time).

Even though you might be sad or missing me, 

rejoice, because now, not only do I get to go braless, I can also fly!

Pondering Love, Revolutions, and Grocery Shopping

Yesterday was a busy Saturday afternoon at the supermarket.  Some people meandered through the aisles, blocking the way for other shoppers, often not moving their carts to the side to let others through.  Some busy people rushed to cut me off and get into an aisle before I did.  Some people gave my son and me dirty looks because he was running off and wanting to scan everything at the price checkers. 

I came home thinking "where's the humanity?" 

I am not so better than those the perceived rude shoppers. 
I came home fuming, feeling pretty lousy from my shopping experience. 

Where is MY humanity? 

Where is the love?

Later on, yesterday evening, I went to bed with a meditation CD; long needed after a busy day.  I haven't listened to this disk in many years.  It has relaxing flute music and a few words from the Dalia Lama about love and opening the heart.  What a treat!  His voice is soft and he sounded, well kind of like Yoda (because of his accent).  He spoke about Love in such a moving, inspirational way.  

I came to the realization I hadn't applied love and compassion in my dealings with my friends at the grocery store.  I realized I don't always apply those feelings of love and compassion for some of my seemingly difficult co-worker friends.

I realize there are so many places I forget to apply this message of Love.

Tonight on Facebook, people are talking about revolutions.  I am going to begin my revolution at home with my mind.  How could I ever expect to go out into the world speaking about freedom and love, when I haven't mastered it within my own mind, heart, and home... or at the grocery store, for that matter.  How could a revolution ever do any good if it didn't first begin with the seeds of Love?   

Life: Perfect problem of illusion

Perfect = Illusion

Problem = Illusion



My Conclusion:

The meaning of life =  Whatever you desire and dream (illusion)... 

Might as well have sweet dreams

Letter to a Shrink

Dear Shrink,


Why do you categorize me and put me into your little box?

Why does one thought I have mean so much to you?

I might be on the rag today when I tell you I want to smack my co-worker's face.  If I was 5, I just might have smacked her face.

I will be off the rag tomorrow and feeling much better.  Does that make me bi-polar?  You better hand me a questioneer to make sure.

I know I sound like I don't like you very much, you are just doing your job...

normal, abnormal, potAYto, potAHto

I came to see you, the first step is admitting I have a problem, right?

What if I don't have a problem?  What if my only problem is thinking I had a problem?  Maybe I dwelled on having a problem so long that one appeared?  That must be the true problem.  See, I admitted there is a problem.

Now go away, your fired.

Confessions of a Kindergarten Vigilante

(note:  some names have been changed to protect the identity of those involved)

I would like to raise my son in such a way that he will be grow up to be a kind & caring sort of guy.  So when he gets in trouble at school, I feel it is my duty as a Mom to get to the bottom of the issue.

At school, they have these cards they move when they have an occurrence.  The card starts out on green, and if they have misbehaved, they move the card to yellow (that is a warning).  If they misbehave further, they move their card to white and get a time out.  If they misbehave a third time, they move their card to red and get sent to the counselor that helps them come up with an action plan and an oops report.

Thankfully, we haven't seen a red card in a while, however, very recently our son came home several days in a row, reporting yellow cards.  This concerned me, and I wondered if it had something to do with his "best friend" leaving to go to another school. 

As we were winding down for bed-time, I inquired about his consecutive yellow cards, saying gently, "honey, is there something that has been bothering you at school lately?"

He replied, "well, I could use another snack in my lunch". 

"I could arrange that.  Have you been feeling hungry at school?", I asked, knowing this may be true, yet he was stalling from the real question.  "You've been getting a lot of yellow cards, lately, does it mostly happen after lunch?"

"yeah, I know", he said softly "no, its not just after lunch".

"So what has been going on Hon?", I asked with genuine concern. 

I knew he had gotten the first days yellow card from putting glue on a chair. He told me he couldn't remember what happened the next day, and the third day it was for crawling around on the carpet when he should have been doing something else.  Then he said, "do you want to know, honestly?"

"Well, yes, I do want to know, honestly, I always want to know honestly", I answered with anticipation.

"I was trying to glue George to the chair".

"Oh.", I said, trying really hard not to giggle.  Seeing a slight smirk in my face, he started to smile, as I continued, "though that might seem like a funny thing to do, its not very nice, why would you want to glue George to the chair?"

"Because they did it on SpongeBob, somebody got glued to a log"  (I am sure he told me the character's name, but I cannot remember it)

My keen mom insights could see through his endeavor to blame his actions on television, and I replied, "well, you know, that is exactly why I don't like SpongeBob and we don't watch it here, at home.  Maybe I will have to tell the daycare not to allow anyone to watch SpongeBob.  You know T.V. is make believe, and I know you know its wrong to glue people to chairs, don't you?

"Yeah.", he mumbled.

"So why WOULD you glue George to the chair?", I inquired again, inquisitively.

"Because he is pretty bad to everyone, and I thought I would teach him a lesson by being bad to him and gluing him to the chair", he replied, in a matter of fact tone.

"I see... did the teacher realize you were trying to glue him to the chair?"

"No, I think she thought I was making a mess.  I had to clean up all the glue, and it was hard to do".

"You know", I said, "the glue they have at school would have taken way too long to dry, you wouldn't have glued him to the chair anyway."

We then had a short discussion about bullies, why/how bullies might have become bullies, and how dealing with bullies by gluing them to seats, probably isn't the best way to deal with bullies. 
 
Hopefully this was the beginning AND the end of his vigilante ways.