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The blog giveth and the blog taketh away …
“Cool Banner!”
I don’t check my email much – really should get into the habit. But we’ve established I work two jobs, am a single mom and read – a LOT. (6 books since just after Christmas, but that’s another blog).
Anyway. I checked my Debauchery Soup email today and found 2 sidebar emails.
The first was from the owner of Stay Calm Cupcake. I used a photo I had found on Google. It was adorable. A little cupcake with the words ‘Stay Calm Cupcake’ on it. It was hers. Oof.
I have a lot to learn when it comes to what the rules are regarding using pics etc. I figure if they have those watermarks on them, then its hands off. I will be doing my research.
She very politely asked me to take the picture down. I have done that. I apologized and she responded with ‘no worries, great blog’. LOL!
The next email was from a follower of my blog, deWriterMD. She noticed my fuzzy mole rat banner and not only found the original picture (which I probably stole also), but created a non-fuzzy version for me!
Thank you SO much Deb! You can check her blog out at: MetaRead360 Small Press Presents
So I think I’ll touch a little on ‘why the mole rat?’. I have had a fascination with Naked Mole Rats since the 90’s. I seriously adore creatures that the majority find ‘ugly’. So, other than the fact that I love them, I hope my little mole rat represents the following:
- Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
- It’s naked. As I feel when sharing with you. Baring it all. No holds barred.
Fun facts. They’re eusocial mammals. One of a kind! All pitching in with their tasks for their colony’s Queen. Like ants … only, pink and adorable and naked.
I’ll do a whole post on them one day, so I’ll stop there. I know, I know, you’ll be on the edge of your seat until then.
SO – in closing. Hope you like the banner, I know I love it.
I also know my pal and fellow blogger and movie writer over at The Return of the Modern Philosopher is going to hate it. They creep him out.
Butters the brave (not)
My dog is very brave … when there is no danger.
The other evening, sitting outside reading, a shot could be heard in the distance. I’m used to these rural sounds. But evidently it scared Butters as she ran past my wicker chair into the house.
Thanks for leaving me out there trusty friend.
Last night at 10 ish, I heard thudding. I assumed it was my son church mousing around and hadn’t felt well that day – rolled over and went to sleep.
After midnight something woke me. I looked at the clock 12:30 am. My sturdy King sized bed shook as 3 succinct thuds vibrated through the thin walls.
Butters alerted – but didn’t rise.
I have long abandoned fear of the dark or of ‘bumps in the night’. Motherhood has that side effect. Up I got.
My first stop, Nic’s room.
He lay sleeping, the glow of the television lighting his face.
Okay.
I checked the side door window – nothing out there.
Purposely avoided the front door, for now, and checked the window from my bathroom at the other end of the home. Nothing I could see.
Alright – the front door. I parted the window blinds hoping there would not be a face. I felt pretty safe – I just dreaded being startled.
Deep breath.
Peek.
Nothing.
Hmmm.
I considered getting my knife – but decided against it. Opened the door for Butters to investigate.
Butters did not want to go outside.
This unnerved me more than the noise. If it was an innocuous source, she would have trotted out there, woofing her bravado.
I closed the door and checked all the locks and did the only thing I could do.
Went back to bed.
The mornings are dark. There was a sensation that something was ‘off’ at 6 am.
Usual routine is: I get up, use the bathroom, let the dog out, start the coffee, take breakfast in to Nic and make sure he’s awake.
I did those things and noticed Butters did not go far. In fact, she didn’t leave the porch.
Perhaps whatever visited us in the night left its scent – or perhaps she’s just a chicken with a good memory.
I noted the gate was closed.
I doubt a lurker would politely close my gate.
I’m hoping the thuds were from some night-time military testing in the mountains. But three separate thuds in a row? Odd.
As I waved goodbye to Nic, he said as he stepped off the porch ‘hope I don’t die!’
‘You?’ I answered, ‘You’re leaving the creepy zone.’!
That put a little pep in his step and off he went down the dark road.
Butters is currently on my bed as I type last nights events – staying safe from the memory of when she wasn’t brave?
Saturday afternoon mall tears
**Warning – this is probably going to bore the hell out of readers of the male variety – maybe even the female variety**
No. I wasn’t sad – wasn’t laughing ’til I cried (until after it happened). Here’s what happened.
Nic was invited to the Sadie Hawkins dance. I was feeling restless this morning (after waking up at 6:05 am for crying out loud). I watched some DVR’d shows (the Glee episode being one of them, about Sadie Hawkins by coincidence) – did some dishes – showered, dressed and woke Nic up with ‘Wanna go to the mall?’
Yes. Yes he did want that.
We left the house.
I knew I wanted to get him a shirt for the dance. Was interested at looking for a painting for the living room – And since just after Christmas, after sniffing it at a Kohls, and falling in love with it, I had decided to finally treat myself to DKNY’s Red Delicious perfume.
We’re just across the river from an outlet mall – there’s a perfume shop that sells, get this, PERFUME of all things – at discounted prices.
Off we go.
Fun ensued at the mall – fun always ensues when Nic and I are out and about. I love that about us.
We finally make it to the perfume shop.
No – they don’t have it. Ug. (Kohls hadn’t had it either – and wouldn’t sell me the sample. I also couldn’t find it anywhere else in town).
Ah Red Delicious – you elusive bitch. I’ll share with you the notes:
Champagne, lychee, raspberry, apple, rose, amber, musk and vanilla. (Hungry yet?)
If you’re anything like me – once you’ve set your mind on getting something, you’re not leaving until you get something. And it’s okay if that something isn’t exactly the ‘thing’ you originally intended to get.
So now I’m being catered to by a sales girl with whiffs of this and that on those little rectangles of paper.
I mean, I’m all over the place – “Um, what about that one? Yeah, the original Michael Korrs, NOT the Hollywood one” – “Wow, that’s expensive, never mind – what about the Ysatis?”
Point, Spritz, sniff – nope. Point, Spritz, sniff, nope.
I’m not loyal to one perfume – I love diversity. I don’t have a signature scent per se, but have a few favorites. LOVE Design by Paul Mitchell and Vanderbilt by Gloria Vanderbilt reminds me of one of my favorite scents – violet. (Funny, it doesn’t have any violet in it. But, if you have L’Oreal lipstick at home, sniff that – that’s what Vanderbilt smells like. LOVE it.)
Both are perfumes that when I scoop up an article of clothing that I wore and the smell is still lingering on it – makes me do that closed eyed ‘mmmm’ thing.
ANYWAY.
Nic is now over at the mens counter purchasing his first bottle of ‘real’ cologne and comes over to advise me that if we spend X amount of dollars together, we qualify for a ‘managers special’. Whatever the heck that is – but if something comes with a deal or a free bonus gift – I’m in.
The crying part:
I’m unattended now. Spritzing away. I pick one up and promptly spray it directly into my face. My open eyes – my nostrils, my MOUTH. That’s the tears part. I’m laughing – and Nic returns. Thing is, it smelled pretty good. Didn’t taste good – and sure as hell felt like mace in my eyeballs, but I’ve decided I’m liking Tommy Bahama St. Barts.
Notes: Tequila, Lime, floral notes, sand, guaiac wood and musk. My take on it? Smelled like jelly beans. LOL!
NOW apparently, I have to spend X amount more … I go to a friend from the early 90’s on the discount table. Escape by Calvin Klein
Notes: Camomile, apple, lychee, rose, plum, peach, coriander, mandarin and sandalwood.
Another one on the discount table is (blush) Britney Spears Circus Fantasy.
Notes: Raspberry, apricot, blue peony, lotus, orchid, vanilla, musk and … violet candy!
Done. The sales woman rings us up.
“You know, if you spend $7 more … you can get one of those bags?”
Nic says “You should get that Jelly Bean one!” I’m thinking – I really want that bag.
(For what I have no clue – I don’t GO anywhere. It’s a doctors style medical bag – good for a weekend getaway. I absolutely NEED it at that moment).
Okay add the St. Barts.
Left that shop smelling like a French Whore. (Why do people say that? I’m going to have to Google that).
Notes: Don’t go to the mall for a shirt and a piece of art and maybe a perfume and come home with 3 bottles of perfume, a medicine bag and stinging eyeballs.
Friday Morning pants
I can’t make decisions until I’ve had at least one cup of coffee – and even then, at 6:30 am, I’m not promising they’ll be good ones.
So I’m checking my Facebook – the coffee is brewing and Nic comes into the kitchen.
“Can I stay home today?”
“Why?”
“Well, I thought about it. I can get my note cards done – we’ll probably still have a sub in 3rd hour most likely and I can do the ‘verb of the week’ on Monday”.
“Oh … are you sick?”
“No”
My brain is trying to recall his grades from my last look at the school website, I’m trying to find any part of me that’s awake to protest. Too tired.
“Hey, at least I’m being honest” he adds.
Yeah, there’s that. I decide I can’t protest. Grades are good, and my brain is still asleep.
He wanders off.
I look up to see him returning in his uniform.
“I thought you weren’t going?”
“yeah, well … my pants were there so I figured why not”.
From stare to pounce and church mousin’
I am tired.
I am tired and actually wondered if there is a nice family with a farm somewhere, with miles of soft fenced in grass for Butters to run and pounce in – and wi-fi so my son will visit her.
9pm is ‘official’ bedtime in our house. Meaning, the Goodnight sleep tights are said – hugs are had and we hit our rooms.
Usually about 9:30 or 10 is when I switch off the tv or call it a night and let my Nook rest.
Then it begins.
From approximately 10-11 I’m scratching, tossing, turning and peeking at the clock. No, for the record – no bed bugs – it’s dry out here in the desert and with the heater on in the house I have an itchy epidermis that presents only at night – I need some of those little baby mittens:
Yeah, those will do nicely. I’d save the polka dots for the weekend – put some zazz in my Z’s.
Anyway – last night the dog was actually sleeping … good sign.
Midnight. I hear a noise in the kitchen. Someone trying to be quiet in the kitchen. Hmmm … process of elimination.
1) Only two other breathing things live here other than me
2) Butters is not capable of being quiet would not be the kitchen
Nic.
I’ve coined the phrase ‘Church mousing’. Don’t ask me why – considering the church mouse is supposed to be quiet. But, it works around here. I’ll hear him usually scrounging around and call out ‘I hear you church mousin’ around out there!’ To which a laugh and response of ‘Good night mom’ is followed by him taking his foraged items back to his room.
But midnight? Midnight snack yeah – but he had school today for crying out loud.
I spend another 15 minutes trying to get comfy.
1am – another noise from the kitchen.
Really? Jeez!!!!!!! I’m too tired to get up and call him out on it, too tired to call out and frankly, a little concerned that if I respond in any way vocally or physically, my arse is not going to be able to fall back to sleep.
More tossing and turning.
2am – Butters has now evolved from her perfected ‘stare’ and thump of tail to a new move. The front leg pounce – landing right on the 1/2 foot of mattress space between me and the edge of the bed.
Wonderful. Sort of like this guy, but with her hind legs on the floor.
OKAY! Up I get. Let her out … stumble back to my room, the front door is open but I’m used to this routine by now, she’ll come back in a few minutes, plop down on the floor, or the bed and up I get again to go back to close and lock the door.
Half an hour later – pounce.
#$@*!!!
Up I get – let her out – wait – in she comes. Get up, shut and lock door.
God only knows how much later – pounce (and a thump thump).
This time I’m glaring at her, quickly realize I’ve got my eyes open far too wide and walk with my eyes completely closed to the door. (that old trick of if I don’t open my eyes, I won’t wake all the way up) Let her out and back to bed.
I decide then and there that the door will remain open. I weigh the pros and cons of a serial killer just waltzing in.
1) I’ll be too tired to really feel much pain
2) Maybe he can let the flipping dog out next
Pounce. Thump, thump. I almost don’t get up. I almost don’t. Then I remember she had an upset stomach just this weekend and oh hell no am I going to wake up and step in something.
Up I get.
Now – the door is still open – not WIDE open, but at least 3 inches cracked open. Even I could nose a door completely open with 3 inches to work with!!! She’s screwing with me now.
Out she goes again.
My mind is mush – my body begging for some REM. Back to bed I go, but it’s too late.
I startle at 5:55 am – after a brief slip into unconsciousness and give up. The alarm is set to go off at 6.
You can imagine the mood I’m in.
BUT! I had already planned to cook Nic a hot breakfast. Eggs and maple sausages. Because, and I quote “I love it at Tylers house, his mom makes maple sausages and pancakes”
I think I responded at the time with a “Pffft” but of course it stuck in my mind.
I make the damn food.
Take it in to my child.
Grab my coffee and check Facebook.
My son’s last post “5 hours ago”. It’s now 6. Which means, he didn’t just wake up and need a drink or a snack. His arse was on his ipad.
I head to my room – brush my teeth, come back out and there – on the counter – is a plate with one egg and 4 1/2 out of 5 sausages.
“Why didn’t you eat your breakfast?”
“I’ve never liked sausages … you know that.”
Anyone have a farm with a fenced in expanse of soft grass? Never mind the dog and the boy – I want to come sleep on it.
Debauchery Soup 