Thursday, April 1, 2010

Run in the Sun

So I live in my sister's basement. Like a usual basement it has a concrete floor, concrete walls, and a few itty bitty little windows. My living area is about the size of a large studio apartment which does not give my very large cat much to do. Now that the weather is nice I thought I would take him out for a walk. I went and bought a cat harness and leash, but apparently they don't make them big enough for Tate. A dog harness it is. The only problem with a dog harness is that they are made for dogs. Cats are much more flexible and can squirm out if need be. Well I made the harness really tight so Tate wouldn't be able to get out. The first half an hour went great! He was interested in the trees and the yard and yelled at some creature under the porch. Tate then decided it was time to crawl into one of the basement window wells and take a little nap. "Ha!" I thought, "I am not gonna sit out here doing nothing productive if all my cat wants to do is nap. I might as well bring him inside if he is done exploring." So I pull on Tate's leash to get him to come to me. Cat's know that they are the boss and he was ever so offended that I would pull on a leash to get him to me. No, instead he backed out of the harness and took off to the back porch. I wrested him for about 15 minutes to get get a good grip. My cat has no claws and this was the end result


Tuesday, March 16, 2010

A pain in my...shoulder

My cat has a very sophisticated pallet. His favorite entrees are bananas, bread (but only if he rips the bag open himself), orange juice, and black coffee. I recently found what appears to be Tate's equivalent to women with chocolate.
A week ago or so I injured my left shoulder somehow. I tried icing it and using Ibuprofen, but nothing helped the pain. I have heard in the past that Icy Hot and similar products are actually very bad for your muscles. I broke down anyways and bought some Target brand heat/ice therapy patches. On one side of the patch is some sort of menthol medicine that you just stick to the area that hurts and it does its majic.
I live in a basement appartment and have to sleep in a hoodie every night, so after applying the patch I quickly jumped into the perferred hoodie and snowflake flannel pants and crawled into bed to get lost in a good book. As soon as I was comfortably situated on my stomach Tate decides to lay on my book. This is the normal routine where we will fight for about ten minutes and eventually I decide he is so darn cute and reposition myself to not bother him. Soon after Tate found his comfy spot, he stuck his nose in the air and frantically sniffed in every direction. He was quickly able to realize that the smell was coming from under my sweatshirt.
First, Tate decides that this is heaven and wants it NOW. He climbs on my back and frantically starts licking the shoulder that the Menthol patch is adhered to. He realizes that this is not nearly satisfying enough and starts to "dig" on my sweatshirt to get to the heavenly creation. During that time Tate is purring loudly and groaning with pleasure.
Secondly, Tate decides to take a more direct approach. He realizes that the smell is coming from inside the shirt, and he needs to find a way in. The closest opening was the neck hole. Tate is a very large cat, but has no idea that he may not fit through this hole. First goes one paw, then the other. This is not working out. Tate gets situated in the hood of my sweatshirt and attempts a swan dive into the shirt. His paws pointing downward and his head pushing with all it's might. This as well seems to not work enough so to please Tate.
Lastly Tate figures out how to get to the stupid Menthol patch of his dreams. During all this wriggling around, the bottom of my hoodie starts to ride up and Tates cold little paw strikes the skin on my lower back. With one quick jump and twist Tate realized he has figured out the solution. He dives up my sweatshirt and easily makes it to the Menthol patch that he tries to devour instantly.
I start to worry if these chemicals might be harmful to Tate. I jump out of bed and do a little shake to get the cat out of my shirt. Tate decides he work to hard to let go now. He sinks his back claws into the waist of my PJ pants and tries with all his strength to hold onto my back with his clawless front paws. I realize that clawlessness is probably the best $150.00 I have ever spent.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Beautiful Shining Smiles:)

I have noticed recently that I haven't been getting nearly as many compliments on my smile as I used to. On the risk of sounding overly self involved, I will let you know that I usually was complimented on my smile every other day or so. I would hope so with the six years Dad had to pay for braces, rubber bands, head gear, and retainers. I decided to splurge thirty bucks and get one of those at home whitening kits. I used the Target brand one (which is wonderful), but the chemicals may have gone past my teeth a little....

My first warning that this was going to be an odd dream was that my cat was cuddling with me perfectly on the couch while I was searching for his new daddy on Eharmony. Tate doesn't cuddle nice. Nonetheless, that is how things start.
My second warning that this dream was going to be exceptionally unusual was the fact that I was conversing with a handsome, successful, Twin's fanatic with season tickets. HA! Twin's Fan and I were in the middle of professing our love for each other when I realized that the white strips in my mouth had been there for an hour and a half instead of the recommended half hour. I paniced and ran to the bathroom to pull the things out. I did so and looked in the mirror. There was very bad news. Not only in the dream was the new "fashion" in society to color our teeth like we do our nails, but I had shiny turquoise teeth with holes rotted through the middle! I remember the exact detail of the rotted out area. It was the consistency of, and identical in appearance to, an overly used brown sponge. I went back to my computer to schedule an emergency appointment the next day with my dentist and reassure Twin's Fan that I was still there. Little did I know, Twin's Fan had a fancy new technology that allowed him to view who he is talking to without the person knowing. Twin's Fan saw my teeth, freaked out and let me know that he was going to write the Twin's organization to make sure I didn't get tickets to any game this season. I cried for hours until my head became so moist the teeth simply fell out.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

I looked away for second!

My favorite white sweater finally lost the clasp that was hanging on for life by one weak little string. I am sick and don't want to go anywhere today, so I figure this is the best time of any to fix the damn thing
Step 1: Where do I keep the sewing stuff? Under the bed: no; In the closet: no; well that is all the storage I have, Look in the closet again: oh there it is!

Step 2: Thread the needle. This takes a good 15 minutes

Step 3: Throw Tate across the room for trying to eat the needle. No not the thread like most cats. Tate wants the needles

Step 4: Sew on clasp. Look it over, realize it looks horrible, tear it out and do it again. Looks horrible again but patience is not my best suit

Step 5: I hear Tate cough. I look over and he has the end of my thread all the way down and is about to struggle on the needle! I panic of course and grap the needle and pull...and pull....and pull...and pull. I think I used too much tread. Finally got my wet yellow coated thread back. Tate purrs.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

A pain in my ass

The battle ensues with strength and honor. Pirates chase my companions and me along the arcade floor(?). Well that is weird; but yes, indeed, it appears to be a glass floor with patterns that light up and make different tones to the way you run over them. Each member of the team creates their own theme song and they flee for their lives. Thankfully, we are able to easily outrun the Pirates (their wooden legs slow them down). Cheers of glee and thankfulness rise as we celebrate another day.
OUCH!!! I got hit by an arrow in the left butt cheek! Wow, that seriously really hurts. I try to move my leg, but pain radiates all over my body and shocks the wound like a bolt of lightning. I am now more than ever thankful for my loyal companions as they quickly pick me up and carry me to a safe shelter.
This shelter is my elementary school best friends house. Toddlers run in circles and giggle when they hit head on. I realize that there is in fact an arrow sticking out of my left but cheek. I need someone to look at the wound to access the severity of my situation. I show my best friend and she screams in fright that a black blood-like substance spills from the wound.
I roll over in bed and wake up. All day my left but cheek has been sore...

Monday, February 22, 2010

Going on a Walkabout

I work part-time as an advocate at a transitional housing/drug treatment shelter for Native American women. I love it and wish I was more involved. As anyone knows who has ever worked in social work, your clients can often drop into your life at unexpected moments. Such as on a Walkabout through Australia...

This dream seemed to be caught already half way through. I jumped into the picture and tried to keep up such as one would with a movie you arrived late to. In the middle of the Australian outback there were hungry dying grasses blowing in the breeze and a large snake slid into his hole near by. The place would be relaxing and peaceful if it wasn't for the intense heat and large Native American women arguing over my shoulder about the proper way to make fry bread over our meager fire. I decide it is time for a game and round the ladies up. They are overly unimpressed by my efforts to make this trip somewhat useful, and go on arguing among themselves. The largest of the ladies, we'll call her Stacy, outwardly starts criticizing my choice of places for the women to go to work on their strength and addictive behaviors. Stacy often criticizes me at work and is the negative leader of the pack. I inform her that the government gave me a 50,000 dollar grant (ha! This is definitely a dream) to teach these ladies something and that is what I intend to do. Suddenly a large hawk appears and takes Stacy off. We run after the pair begging for the bird to let go of his grasp on Stacy. We ultimately all become overwhelmed and quit looking. At this point I am panicking due to the loss of one of my clients, and decide that the whole group will hike back to the airport to go home. Upon arriving at home I am actually rewarded for getting rid of the "bad" lady in the house and am told by an Native American Elder that I am very wise and that he was the hawk that took the awful Stacy away.

..Ow! Tate bit my nose. Awake...

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

A blog about dreams and maybe a few crazy cat stories...

Disclaimer: I don't believe in dreams. I don't think that because my cat told me in my dream that his name is not Tate, it is actually Hippopotomolopoly and that is what I need to call him ( I dreamt that two nights ago), means that I have a spiritual connection with my cat. A dream about thunderstorms doesn't mean that the moons of Jupiter have suddenly aligned and are creating a shift in Scorpio's influence and I will find my true love this week. To me, dreams are merely my brain sorting out what is important to keep and what I can put in the trash bin. I am writing a blog about dreams simply for the fact that I have wildly vivid dreams. Nearly every night I remember three or four dreams, and they are often hilarious. I have been told that this is somewhat miraculous (but not in the crazy psychic way) and that I should share it with more people.

Occasionally, my dreams are not miraculous or funny in any way; this is where the crazy cat stories come along. Three years ago I found an adorable baby kitten stuck in a tree. I saved his life and brought him home, and he has shown his appreciation through constant entertainment. I do realize that hearing about someone else's cat chasing his tale and meowing along with you while you sing doesn't make the most thrilling of tales, so I will only tell of Tate's truly odd behavior. Such as...the other day I was suffering from a cold and trying to peacefully enjoy my cup of orange juice on the couch. Tate is a definite cat, and doesn't care about how I feel. We had a fight over the orange juice and I tried to position my fingers over the glass so that he wouldn't be able to fit a paw in. He won as usual. I rationalized allowing my cats foot to be immersed in orange juice so that he would taste it, hate it, and leave me alone. Of course that is definitely NOT what happened. My very large fluffy gray cat indeed loves orange juice. I tried to keep fighting him, but got tired and poured in down the drain. Well at least one of us got our daily serving of Vitamin C.