Provide (nce)

I have noted before how I am living a bit sparsely at this time. I also have mentioned before how I love estate sales, garage sales and thrift stores. I am Queen Frugalite Fianna. Where is my crown?

I have come across some rather fortuitous purchases recently. Things to make my life a bit easier without spending much money. One day, hopefully very soon, I will have a full house - man, cats and furniture. Until then, I am making do.

A few weeks ago, I visited the thrift store in my neighborhood. When I first walked in, I spied a chair that would be perfect for me, living alone for now, with cats. A chair that I could sit in, watch TV, read a book and that would transition perfectly to my foyer, where once I have a couch, I can lounge and read a good book:


Cost? $8.00. See the dejected camping chairs, yoga mat and wedge. I am living the high life, baby.

I didn't participate in the recent Bedside Fun Monday because it made me too depressed. I was severely lacking in the bedside table realm. Today, I went garage sale-ing and found a perfect bedside table.

It cost $5.00. While there are few scratches, it was a great deal and just the right thing at the right price. I got home, cleaned it up. I pulled out the drawer in order to clean it and found some papers in it.


See that $5.00 bill?

Overall price: $0.00.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Kitten’s history has been documented quite well on this blog, hell, I should pull a Dooce and write her a letter each month for her to read when ….um… someone teaches cats to read, so she can learn how she was as a kitten.

Only problem being, every month it would read:

Dear Kitten: This month you continued to wake me each morning between 3:00 A.M. and 5:00 A.M. by licking my nose. I cannot wait until you grow out of this. You also continued to pick on Yoda, causing her to need Valium. I have removed all sharp objects from Yoda’s reach as she is rumored to have discussed “killing her some Kitten”. Otherwise, you were an absolute hellion delight. I hope you will forgive us one day for not coming up with a better name for you.

Love, Mama

Poor Kitten.

However, this day has surpassed all others in Kitten’s short life.

This day has surpassed all other days in my extended days as a cat owner.

Kitten has hit puberty.

I have never before seen a cat in heat.

God willing, I will never see it ever, ever, ever again.

I am traumatized.

It started last night. It may have started yesterday morning as soon as I locked the door in the morning, but since they are latch-key cats. I will never know.

When I got home, Kitten was quite vocal. She frequently will meow when she can’t figure out where I am because, oops, I left the room, it’s dark and with her crappy eyesight, she can’t figure out which way I went. I should have gotten the poor cat Lasik.

The other cats were hiding while I was making dinner, because when the stove is on, that usually means the smoke alarm is about to go off. So they hide at the bottom of my stairway, where the air will be clear. Kitten, however, was meowing up a storm. I would call her, yet she would just continue. I would go find her, and she would continue. I couldn’t get the cat to hush. Not even with a well placed, Cesar Millan approved, Tsscch!!

Then, the usual petting, resulting in a bit of raised rear, was intensified. Seriously intensified. By this morning, she was walking, constantly crouched down, anxiously awaiting her lover.

Poor, poor Cass.

Kitten chose Cass to be her de-virginizer.

The fighting that occurs nightly, was much louder than normal. And continued far past the usual time. It started around 2:30 A.M. and continued until nearly 4 A.M., when I finally locked Kitten in the back room. She howled for another hour or so until I let her out. She then continued to beg Cass to give it up until around 5:30, when she decided to turn her affections towards me. I tried to calm her and her howls down until at 6 A.M., I gave up, pulled my laptop onto the bed and started looking for a vet in my new neighborhood. And, of course, once I was fully awake, she promptly went to sleep. After keeping me awake from 2:30-6 A!M! ! ! !

When I got out of the shower, this morning, I was greeted by all 3 of the cats at the bathroom door. Kitten was offering her wares to both spayed, female cats. I took another shower, hoping to block that image from my mind. It didn’t work.

Here, Kitten was begging Cass for some loving:

No worries, Cass may have run this time, but she cannot resist the Kitten:

My entire morning was a scene from Brokeback Attic.

I am scarred.

Kitten is now in the clutches of her forever, one and only, Dr. Veterinarian, who promises to fix this love sick puppy for me.

Bob Barker was so right, please spay and neuter your pets. You do not want to witness what I have. Bleach to the eyes will not cure me.

**And before I get the comments, asking why it took me so long to get her fixed…I know I should have done it earlier. All my pets get spayed. This go round, however, I was a bit busy, what with the whole moving to another state, living in a hotel, sleeping on an air mattress, and related biz-ness.**

UPDATE: I just called to check how she is doing and was advised that all the appropriate parts were removed and that the testicles were added. Surgery was a success. Won't the other 2 eunichs at home be so happy!!

It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

With the state of the economy as it is, with the anticipation of living in a city I really like with the man I really love, with my finances not being wacko anymore, I am a house hunting crazy lady, not to be confused with my typical crazy cat lady self. More crazy, less fur.

I have watched HGTV for hours straight. All the house hunting, designing to sell, property virgin hoopla. I am in love. I want to buy property. I want a house. I want out of apartments.

And with the economy in turmoil, with foreclosures on the rise, I have been optimistic. Someone else's tragedy will be my fortune. I will be able to get a house, reasonably priced, and plant a garden and drink coffee on my back porch while reading a book. Mmmmm....I am getting excited thinking about it.

But then, I have to go and watch this.

And read this.

Sure, I can scold the culture that has created a negative savings rate and the idea of living off credit. However, this scared me.

Those that claimed to have been doing the right thing, had the savings in place, didn't overextend themselves. They are still in trouble.

Goes to show you...you can never be too prepared, have too much saved up, have too much insurance.

I am still searching for that wrap-around porch though, dammit. I will just have to buy it with cash.

(Links courtesy of Boston Gal.)

Fun Monday - Bucket List

Tiggerlane is hosting Fun Monday this week, asking that we post at least 5 items on our personal Bucket List. Things we want to accomplish by the time we kick the bucket. I have crafted a few of these over the years, however, to my knowledge, none of the lists survived.

The list is sure to have evolved over the years. Today, I simply typed up the first things that came to mind, cooked dinner, watched a great halftime show, all the time thinking of other things to add to the list. Yet, it seems that the first grouping of items is what I really really really want to accomplish. The things that seem to simply roll out of me, not requiring any further thinking.

So... here are the the absolute top items on my Bucket List:

1. Marry my best friend.

2. Take an Alaskan cruise.

3. Sit on my wrap-around front porch, watching my 3.2 kids play in the yard.

4. Visit Europe, Brazil, Australia and Canada.

5. Volunteer on Thanksgiving.

6. Send my parents on their dream vacation.

7. Own another ‘67 Mustang.

I am sure if I spent more time working on this, I could come up with 100 items. However, these are my absolute top priorities. I love this topic. I can't wait to see yours!

My Commute

When I moved to this area, my commute was foremost on my mind.

I work smack dab in the middle of Houston. I work the standard 8-5 and must deal with ridiculous rush hour traffic.

So when I decided where to stay, the length of my commute was extremely important. And I pay for it.

Yet, I never was told by the realtor that my commute would go through South Dakota.



The skyline sure looks like Houston.

These guys seem a bit out of place though.

What Would Mrs. Wilson Do?

Sometimes the right thing is so hard to do. At work, we have picked up a saying, If Jesus was standing right next to you, what would you do?

It keeps us a little more honest, a little kinder and hell, we work with attorneys, we need all the salvation we can get.

I changed my course of action yesterday based on this. It was slightly painful, but the truth will set you free, I hear.

Substitute Jesus for whichever deity you would like, substitute it for your mom, your dog, your 1^st grade teacher. Whatever it takes for you to stop doing a slightly dishonorable or outright unbelievably horrible thing, and make you take the high road, because after all, karma is a bitch.

Don’t think that wrong action won’t come back and bite you. It will, in some way, someday.

Later in the day, a co-worker commented that he had been considering my past few months and was struck by what had been going on in my life – because in order to handle it, I had to be quite a resilient person, as well as a flexible one.

I was surprised by the comment, again, I work with attorneys and said sayer is an attorney, so I was quite appreciative that he noticed I had a life and actual things happening in it.

I think that most of the time, we don’t notice our own accomplishments. And moreover, I don’t know that we should take credit for keeping on, keeping on.

And perhaps that is my dilemma, should I really need to have a golden light watching over my shoulder keeping me straight. Shouldn’t I just do right? Should I really get a pat on the back for going to work, paying my bills, and being nice to people?

Shouldn’t I just do these things and go home and cook dinner, take out the trash and keep at it.

Do we really need these reminders to do well and to stay sane?

Obviously yes, because I feel better for doing the right thing at work. And I felt great that someone recognized that I am not a quivering mess.

So recognize someone in your life that is doing what they should with a situation. They could have screwed over someone, but they took the high road. They chose to do right, no matter what. They could have let life bowl them over until they were drooling into their oatmeal, but they just kept plowing ahead.

Recognize those small things in yourself.

2008 Reading List - 2 Down, 96 To Go

I cheated kinda sorta not really for the second completed book on My 2008 Reading List. Although if I created the game, can I really cheat? I didn't think so. In my book, I am still A-1-A legit.

The library that is closest to my house is a small little thing. I have ordered several of the books on my 2008 Reading List, but when I first visited, the selection was a bit lacking. I found the sequel to #33. And since this is my game, I am calling it 100% acceptable.

I deserve a personal size pan pizza.

Did ya'll participate in Book-It growing up? I remember just living for this program. Perhaps it was growing up in a poorer household where we didn't get to eat out very often, or maybe I was just a bratty little frugalite even at the tender age of 8. Whatever it was, I read voraciously as a child for a free pizza. And now... as an adult, I am a voracious lactose-intolerant frugalite book reader. Life is ironic. Damn you, Alanis.

#33 in my revised world is "What Einstein Told His Cook 2" by Robert L. Wolke.

I attempt to be a chef extraordinaire. If, just perhaps Not Craig is around, he could testify to my mad skillz in the kitchen. I do what I can, raised primarily on Hamburger Helper and fried chicken.

This book is a collection of Q&A on all things kitchen/food related, answered by Mr. Wolke, a chemist. Very interesting stuff in here.

Although this is a library book, mine has a lot of dog-eared pages. This may have been caused by a certain redhead, but the library can't prove a thing. (Library - if you are in my blog reading my thoughts, leave now please.)

I took this book on my recent trip to the State Adjacent. I could write a whole post on my hatred for public transportation and my newly found hatred for my possibly defective Ipod. However, the flight sans music was reasonably tolerable solely because of this book.

Short explanations of interesting cooking related concepts containing humor made an irritating flight much more tolerable. Excellent recipes, that I can't wait to photocopy, made for a dog-eared copy.

I highly recommend this book or the previous edition for anyone traveling, or that cooks, or eats, or deals with irritating people when they just wish the irritating peeps would shush.

Or those that wish they could pull a Dog Whisperer on humans and "Tsscchhh" those people that travel on Southwest that don't shut up.

Tsscchh!!! (Go read this book.)

Dumbassery At Its Finest

I received a visit from a crackhead last night.

I returned home from the airport at close to 10 P.M. and with my luggage and my poor aching ski-injured body, I parked along the street outside of my house, instead of in the back.

This morning, I was pleasantly surprised to see that my driver’s side door lock was all jacked up.

Never in the long ownership of this car have I ever feared that it would be broken into or stolen.

This had to be the work of a crackhead. Why would a person in their right mind attempt to steal a 10 year old Toyota Corolla? There wasn’t anything of value in sight unless you count the beige steering wheel cover.

What were they going to do with a Corolla? What kind of resale value does an extremely well-used Corolla have? How fast are they going to be able to joy-ride in a go-cart with nearly 190,000 miles on it.

They also attempted to break into 2 other cars on my block. One of them was an older truck that has the small window in the door that you can tilt open. They busted that, yet were not able to steal the truck. What kind of idiot cannot complete a car theft after they bust a window?

Needless to say, I will be parking in the back of my building from here on out, the cats will surely scare off the crackheads that really suck at grand theft auto.

The Answer is 31

One of the things I did not know when we moved to New Mexico last year, was that they had skiing so close to where we moved. We were moving to the Permian Basin, see that second word, a basin, which is flat. The area used to be an ocean. Oceans do not have mountains and skiing.
So last year when we realized just how close we were to a mountain that had snow and ski lifts, we took off and skied. Me! I skied.

Have I told you of my amazing sports expertise? The only extracurricular sport I ever participated in – volleyball. And we were the Deadbeats. And we sucked. Kaytabug, I hope I am not shattering any delusions of grandeur that you may have held onto, we sucked.

I am clumsy and accident prone. And yet, I skied! I absolutely loved it. The beauty, the serenity, the speed when I flew down the mountain. I enjoyed it so much!

Of course, I fell. However, once I kinda sorta got the hang of it though, I didn’t fall too much and most importantly, I didn’t hurt myself when I fell. I absolutely fell in love with skiing.

This year, I was thrilled to go. We have been talking about it for several weeks. I was here in NM just 2 weeks ago, and but for a nasty cold, we would have hit the slopes. This weekend, we were going.

We left Friday night, leaving at 8 P.M. We arrived just before midnight, and settled in for a good night’s sleep, setting the alarm for an early rise in order to hit the slopes early. Of course, we snoozed a bit, and then drug our asses around for a couple hours. We finally headed up the mountain. A 20 minute drive, going 20 mph. It is gorgeous, just a magnificent sight. We get to the lodge and get in line to rent our equipment. Only to find that they don’t rent ski bibs. The pants, a requirement! We could buy pants for just the mere cost of our first born. So we headed back down the mountain. There, we obtained our full rental gear and headed up the mountain once again.

By this time, it was just an hour until the cost of a ski pass would be reduced to the half day cost, so we waited it out, snacking on suspicious carne asada and fajitas. The Mescalero Indian tribe is not known for their ability to cook Mexican food. Just a warning.

Finally, we were off. We headed for the bunny slope to ensure we knew what we were doing. Ran down that a couple times. Once we both felt secure enough in our bunny slope mastery, we headed to the next least difficult slope, the Easy Rider.

The biggest difficulty with skiing is that after you kinda sorta have the hang of it, there are still a lot of people that don’t kinda sorta have the hang of it. They fall, then they sit where they fell, considering who will win the Super Bowl, what they should have for dinner, or which Spice Girl was the hottest. Avoiding these fallen skiers is dangerous and causes me to fall. Even though I kinda sorta have the hang of it.

I love skiing. I love riding up the lifts, looking out at the amazing view, the nervousness of getting off the lift safely, avoiding others and the rush when you start flying down the slope. The rising excitement as you continue down the mountain.

You know, there is no real reason to keep going on and on about this.

Because this is how it really went:

1. Get on ski lift and travel up slope;
2. Get off ski lift;
3. Ski between 10-30 yards;
4. Spot a lump of human flesh on the slope;
5. Fall;
6. Bang tailbone;
7. Bang head;
8. Skid 10 feet;
9. Hurry to my feet to obtain whatever piece of equipment I had lost;
10. Ski down remaining portion of slope where I would:

• a. Repeat steps 4-10; or,
• b. Make it all the way down and repeat all previous steps.

I started fussing at the people gathered around the area where you get off the ski lift at the top of the slope, blaming them for causing many people to fall, because, "Hi, you just got off the lift, the next step is to ski down the mountain, not discuss last night’s American Idol. You are causing a skiing bottleneck."

Then, I would call out the people that caused me to fall. "Hi, I just ate it really bad and may have a severe concussion and separated shoulder because you are sitting on the mountain instead of doing this thing you do at ski resorts, it is a 3 letter word starting with a s and ending with an i. Have a nice day while I hobble down the mountain, jackass."

I seriously made it down just once without falling at all. I made it down 3 times without falling more than once and well, we skied for 4 hours so you figure out the rest.

So whatevers, I am not a ski champ. And I may or may not be to blame for injuring the love of my life. I am sorry, dear, it was that other idiot’s fault that caused us to get all tangled up getting off the lift and causing your knee to become detached and your kneecap to meet your ankle. I am very sorry about that, but I totally blame that Spice Girl wanna-be in the skintight gold ski pants.

I really, really love skiing, although I cannot move my head more than an inch to the left or the right and walking kinda hurts and I can’t raise my arms without wincing and um yea, my pride is totally in traction. Please send flowers.

So that title?

Alex, the question is, what age should you give up skiing?

Kiva Repayment

I just received notification that one of the people that I lent to on Kiva.org has repaid her loan. Once the loan has been repaid in full, your contribution (typically $25.00) is available to withdraw, re-lend or to donate to Kiva for their operations.

The loan that was repaid was to Mireya:
Mireya is married and has a 16-year-old daughter. Her husband is a construction worker, and she started her business because his salary couldn't cover the household expenses and she wanted to educate her daughter. So she decided to help her family out by opening her small convenience store 11 years ago, and little by little her business and her clientele grew. Now her product line has increased and she hopes to see continued growth.

Mireya is requesting a loan of $500 to invest in her business, specifically to enlarge the store to better accommodate her customers and increase her sales by offering new and varied products. She plans to repay the loan within three months. She and her family are very grateful for your support.

She repaid her loan timely and in doing so, freed up that $25.00 to be loaned to Alejandrina:


Alejandrina is 45 years old and sells cattle in the Villa Verde market. She had four children - one is 16 years old and studies, another is 19 and drives a motorcycle taxi, another is 21 and is studying and the oldest is 23 and helps his mother in the livestock business.

The business consists of buying and selling cattle. The purchases are made in the small villages near Montero and later the livestock is sold at the Villa Verde market. Alejandrina has 4 years of experience in this type of business. There is average competition in the business, but Alejandrina has some steady customers in the market who buy livestock. The prices vary according to the animal´s weight, as far as pigs, the prices also vary according to the weight.

Have you joined Kiva yet?

Damn That Middle Class.

Miss Crazy Cat Lady 2008

I probably appear to be a Crazy Cat Lady. Hell, my Fun Monday post pretty much cemented that reputation. And I probably am, except for the man in my life that legitimizes my obsessive cat ownership as a simple “animal-lover".

Shut up, that is my own personal validation. It works for me.

While I may be considered a Crazy Cat Lady on the innernets, I officially, am NOT the Crazy Cat Lady of my block.

May I introduce you to some of the neighborhood cats:

And those folks, are the ones that would stick around for me.

The realtor that showed me the place told me it was cat-friendly. And boy, howdy, is it!

The number of black cats causes problems. This morning, for instance, I am backing out and I see a black cat dash up the driveway, see my car, and turn around and bolt back down it. It looked terrified, or on a mad dash, a Buffalo Stampede. I am concerned it is poor Yoda, who sits at the bottom of my stairs and meows, wanting freedom, who has bolted out of my door on a couple of occasions already, the latest being when I came home tonight. I worry that perhaps I didn’t see her escape this morning and she is loose. I continue down the road until the fear becomes too much. Yoda is declawed and not an aggressive cat, she has had her ass kicked repeatedly by Kitten and has been cornered on previous escapes by neighborhood cats (Have I mentioned how that damn cat used to jump off my balconies?) I did not feel good about the small chance that she was loose in my neighborhood. So, I pull a You-EE and run back in my house, where, she is still sitting at the bottom of my stairs, willing it to open.

Anyhoo, when I met the landlord, I got the low down. In the building next to mine, also owned by my landlord, is the top Crazy Cat Lady. The self-nominated, Crazy Cat Lady of the block. Whew, I am safe! I hope she doesn’t move any time soon, I am not ready to assume the throne.

She feeds, houses, and has outside litter boxes for those that don’t go inside. She is the Queen of the Cat Kingdom. I met her last night and that is when the true breadth of the problem was evident. At least 4 cats I had never seen before appeared. I pointed out to her that I hadn't seen all of these before. She laughed... that there were many more than the 9 that were surrounding her!

However, she didn’t bring all the cats around. She is not to blame, completely. It all started a couple years back. One of the elderly residents of my building hadn’t been seen for awhile. Someone accessed her apartment and she was found to have passed away. She was the Ultimate Crazy Cat Lady. There were cats everywhere – probably a hundred cats in her apartment. Some were taken to shelters, some had to be put down and well some…are hanging out on my car hood right now.

So there. I can continue to rant about my cats without fear.

I am Not the Queen.

I only get the silver medal.

Fun Monday - Favorite Drug

Ann, I thought I had this topic down. You wanted to hear about a web site that's changed my life. A web site that I can't live without. A web site whose inventor I'd like to see win a McArthur Genius Grant. (Not sure what that is but...a Nobel? I am down.)

I spend so much time online, I should know this one.

However, life changing? There are a ton that I can’t live without. A few are listed on my page to your right.

My first response was Crazy Aunt Purl. Hers was the first site that I really started to worship. That I visited constantly. I clicked to other commenter’s pages, finding some wonderful folks. I cried my eyes out, I spit things onto my screen from laughing so hard. I attended my first book signing in order to stalk Laurie, where I had to nearly run away from her because tears, oh how she can produce tears from me. But girl crush? Laurie is definitely on the Very Top of My List. So CAP is probably the most important web page I am obsessed with.

I found Bev from CAP. She encouraged me to start my own blog. And lookie here! I DID! So she was very important in my innernet progress. (And hey Bev, your FM post produced tears for me. I am SO happy for you!)

I have to give a huge shout out to a long list of personal finance bloggers. Dawn at Frugal for Life, Boston Gal, Single Ma, Madame X, Trent at Simple Dollar, and so many others…so those, plus PfBlogs.org, where I found these great folks. They all were instrumental in me getting out of debt, knowing about and building an emergency fund, high interest savings accounts, 401Ks, and on and on. So thank you for saving me financially!

However, the most life changing site? This whole post was brought to you, not by my incredible memory, but Bloglines. Amazingly, I found this site just a month or so ago. Before, I would check the RSS feed that I had bookmarked, having to scroll over each site that I visited regularly, which of course, since I am a crack addict, I did every 20 minutes. With Bloglines, it pulls the posts that I so desperately wait for all into one easy to use page.

Thanks, Ann. What a great topic! I cannot wait to visit everyone’s faves!! Just what I need….more sites to obsess over…

Is it possible to break the innernets from too much use? If it does break, I am sorry. Really, really sorry, folks.

Update - 1 down, 97 to go

I finished the first of my 98 books I need to read this year. #96 - The History of Love by Nicole Krauss. I loved it. It was an excellent start to the Reading List.

I tried to find an answer to my one question about the story. Google failed me. For those who have read it, who the hell is Jacob and what happened to him?

If you haven’t read it, read it. It is amazing.

Next up? #29 and #33.

So what are you reading? How is it?

Happiness Schmapiness

A couple days ago, I was looking around my sparsely furnished apartment, looking in wonder at the few things that I have here in Houston. I am tired of sitting on the floor, I am tired of not having the comforts I am used to. I started thinking of how cheap I am. How I rarely will splurge on anything pricey. How I can afford more, yet I don’t allow myself these items.

I was actually down on myself for this. I buy cheap. I buy secondhand. I comparison shop. And perhaps, most notably right now, I do without. And I was feeling bad about this. Felt that I should do more. I should go buy myself a couch. I should buy myself that chair I want for my foyer, where I can chat with that secretary I need to hire. I should get some better, higher thread count sheets. I need, I need, I need.

However, I have been holding back. Not wanting to spend much money. Knowing that this situation is temporary. I will have my old comfy sheets sometime in the future, I will have a couch, I will move my camping chairs from my living room to my foyer, where my secretary and I will chat about what that crazy bitch Britney did this week.

I am not in debt, I don’t want to get back into debt. And the Good Lord knows, my rent doesn’t justify any extra expenditures. But dammit, I work my ass off. I deserve more. It will make me more comfortable. It will make me happy. I am just going to buy myself those things I deserve.

W. T. F. !

Hold Up. Wait A Minute.

Screw that, I told myself. My belongings don’t make me happy. Hell, over the past 10 years, I have given away so much of the crap I have bought anyway. Why would I need to buy more crap?

Crap isn’t what makes me happy.

And hell, who cares if I am happy or not.

I was never promised Happy.

This culture drives me fucking crazy.

Entitlement makes me livid. You don’t deserve a thing. What you get, be thankful for. Work hard to get more. Put out good things, hopefully you get good things back, and if you don’t, oh well, at least you made other lives better.

As for your job, screw job satisfaction, you should be happy you have a job. Who cares if you have a comfy couch. Be happy, you have a roof. Your family, your loved ones driving you crazy? Be happy you have them to drive you crazy.

This post made me start thinking about these things.

To me, the most important point of the link is this quote: When money or health is a problem, you think about it all the time; when it’s not a problem, you don’t think much about it. Both money and health contribute to happiness mostly in the negative; the lack of them brings much more unhappiness than possessing them brings happiness. One of the greatest luxuries that money and health provide is the freedom from having to think about them.

So, if you have a bit of money, you have a bit of health…get busy. Stop thinking about not having enough of either just by staying busy. If you are busy, you are working, you are active, you don’t have time to consider how little you have. How little happiness, how little money. In the end, what do you really want, anyway?

I think I can do without that couch, those sheets, or that secretary for now.

That Roomba?

Hmm….damn, I take this back. All of it.

Merry Christmas!

I alluded to my awesomest Christmas gift ever in an earlier post. My boyfriend gave me, not a Dyson, but an espresso machine!

I heart coffee. A lot. I am Ms. Grumbly Pants without it. I love the smell of it brewing. I enjoy sitting, drinking coffee and reading a book. I also despise Starbucks. Much like my hatred for Wal-Mart and other corporate giants, because I picture our future landscape being a Walmart, next to a Starbucks, next to a McDonald's with Exxon on the corner. Rinse, repeat, over and over. All small business owners being inched out due to these evil entities. But I digress.

So, I am the proud owner of an espresso machine. And I can make it work! To some, that may seem like such a silly statement, but if you know and love me, then you may understand it a bit better. I can be all thumbs with many things. While I pride myself on being able to figure things out, I also get all stubborn and pissed off and turn my back and write out of the will things that make me stumble a bit. Like my new wireless router. I scorn thee.

There are a good number of espresso machine, coffee makers, pod stabbing and dispensing machineries available. Krups alone has 2,571 types of them. My head spun around when we were out shopping. There are lots of ways to make caffeinated beverages apparently.

I decided on the base model. I don't need to go back to college to figure out how to work a damn coffee maker.

Presenting my new BFF:

This stuff is pretty damn simple. Put some ground coffee or espresso in the little silver thing. Add water to the top, screw the lid on tight. Turn knob to espresso. And wait. Get your milk in a cute metal cup that must be purchased separately. Once you see some espresso coming out... turn the other knob, on the left side of the machine from the picture of a cup to a picture of Old Faithful.

And "froth" the milk. Don't use much milk. It froths a lot. I mean it. Trust me.

Once the milk is hot, turn that knob on the left back to the picture of the cup.
Espresso will pour out and in 30 seconds or less, you are done.

Put the milk on top of the espresso and voila!


My biggest complaint about the new light of my life? It doesn't have automatic shut off. I keep forgetting to turn it off. Whoopie. This thing rocks.

You can steam/froth/heat milk without making espresso as well. What I do is make extra espresso each time. Then just heat up more milk and add it in.

It cleans up pretty easily. I haven't figured out if the metal thing on the side that heats the milk comes off. That is the most difficult thing to clean. Meaning it takes an extra 42 seconds. Whoopie.

Go forth and buy one. Or get someone else to do it for you.

And pick up a Roomba for me while you are out.

Thanks a bunch. You are a dear.

Fun Monday - Meet the GrrAnimals.

Previous visitors will know that I couldn't resist this Fun Monday!! Lisa has requested that we discuss our Animals. For goodness' sake, I have a category devoted to my brood of cats.

In my photos stored on my computer, I have a folder titled, "Animals". I have had my computer about 2 years. It has 209 photos currently. I have many more in my boxes of photos and I am sure that I deleted many, many outtakes, as well. I love my pets.

I have always had pets. Growing up, we had both dogs and cats. A Doberman that dragged me around the backyard by my hair, while I squealed with delight, Ms. Kitty who gave me my very first pet that was "mine". Fridgie. Named after Refrigerator Perry. Hamsters. Rats. A few fish.

I have always had cats though, more than any other type of pet.

Out of my 3 felines, I have had Yoda the longest.
I got her from a co-worker, in 2001, as a kitten.

I called her Yoda, because the night I brought her home, my other cat that I do not have any longer, was in her face, not being too welcoming. Scared as could be, Yoda's little ears were off to the side, just like her namesake. I had no intention on calling her Yoda forever, but nothing else really worked out and she was stuck as Yoda.
I adopted Cassie a year or so later. She is a manx. (Just a stubby little tail.)
Cass was a stray that had lived in my apartment complex for years. I adopted her as she was the sweetest cat. Calm, loving, gentle as can be. I found it especially surprising that she is so trusting, after I found a pellet lodged along her back. Apparently, someone shot her with a pellet gun. The pellet can be felt just along her spine. The vet has recommended that it remain, as it seems to be causing no problem and the danger associated with removing it outweighs any benefit.

She received her name because of her,...um...reproductive tendencies. She had several litters while living as a stray in this complex. Mama Cass.

After adopting her, I had her spayed. I dropped her off at the vet that morning, and had an extremely busy day at work. Around noon, I checked my voicemail. The vet had called and asked me to return her call asap, as they had found something interesting when they shaved her down, in preparation for the surgery. They couldn't reach me...and since they had her sedated, they proceeded with the surgery. Turns out...someone had her spayed while she was still a stray! She obviously was loved around that complex! So, Poor Cass was spayed twice.
Cass spent the last few months with my non-pet loving parents, while my living arrangements were....less than optimal for 3 cats. They absolutely adored her.

They also provided her with a new nickname. Cass is extremely lazy. She is the epitome of the Lazy Cat. However, every couple of days, she flips. She sprints around the house, nearly in circles. She doesn't really run...she is more like a rabbit, hopping instead of running. She is noisy. Ridiculously loud in these Buffalo Stomps. Hence, she is now referred to as Buffalo by my parents. (Her style of running is common in Manx cats, more hopping than strides. Read the wiki page for more details.)

I am not sure she likes the nickname.

Kitten's history has been publicized on this blog as I just adopted her recently. You can read about her story here, here, and here.

Although for some darned cute pics, I truly recommend you check out the whole Shameless Promotion of Cats category.

She was a dumpster kitty, found in my apartment complex. She had an icky illness, that had completely gooed up her eyes, causing her to be nearly blinded and apparently she strayed from her littermates where she was luckily found due to her screeching meow, by my Love.


We took her in, not sure if we would keep her as we already had 2 cats. I was about to go live in a hotel for 2 months, where, due to His work schedule, I would need to take the cats with me. However, once you take something in, once you spend money on it, once you wipe its ass, once you name it (4 names and counting), it is yours.

I denied it for awhile, still do sometimes, but that cat is ours. She is staying. Although the naming process isn't going well... She is nearly full-grown now and her name remains Kitten. She has previously been known as Lydia, Sophie and Chloe.

My cats don't particularly like each other. They tolerate each other. They fight sometimes. They have never been caught curled up sleeping together. If I see them relaxed, within a close proximity, my camera is quickly retrieved.




Here are the only 2 pics I have with all 3 cats present.


Don't they appear happy....

My cats are part of my family. I love them. I buy them gifts. I coddle them. And while they are cats, who frequently walk away, turn their back to me and outright ignore my existence, they also greet me at the front door, jump on the bed as soon as my eyes open, and follow me around. I can't imagine a life without pets, and I am glad these 3 found me.

Meme Madness

Back in the old days, Bev at Sauntering Soul tagged me for a meme. I am getting around to it, nearly a month later. I apologize for the delay... I am not sure it is worth the wait...

The tag rules are:

1) Link to the person who tagged you.

2) Post the rules on your blog.

3) Share 7 facts about yourself.

4) Tag 7 random people and include links to their blogs.

5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. I played the flute for 9 weeks in middle school. I promptly dropped it once the 9 weeks was up. In Kansas, we had 4 - 9 weeks grading sessions in school. In Texas, this was 6 – 6 weeks. What was it where you grew up?
2. My parents went to prom together. In a ’67 Mustang.
3. My first car, the car I had to help rebuild, was a ’67 Mustang. It was retired a year or so later as the axle was rusting and the wheels started to run more horizontal than tires should.
4. I collected elephants when I was younger. I don’t collect anything much these days.
5. When I was younger, I told my mom I didn’t want braces. I was concerned that they couldn’t afford them. I am getting them for myself this year. I am pretty sure I can afford them.
6. I LOVE Football. I hate basketball. I do not know why.
7. Daisies are my second favorite flower.

I tag you because you read this.

Stubbornness or Insanity?

Is it stubbornness or insanity that caused me to drag a mattress up 2 flights of stairs. All by my lonesome. The day that a cold, delivered by the sweet kisses of a baby, kicked my ass.

I could have called friends for help. My landlord offered to help me move things if I needed help. I have neighbors that I could have called on. Hell, I could have hired someone to do it for me. I could have done many different things than do it all by myself.

I look back at it as insanity.

But it felt damn good to stand there, after I pulled that damn thing for 20 minutes up 24 individual stairs, raise both hands, flip off the mattress and declare, "You Are My Bitch".



Yes, I said that. To my mattress.