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Butters – and how I’m not going to be eaten by cats

I always assumed I’d meet my end dying unnoticed in my house, then being partially eaten by my copious amount of future cats. My  body perhaps found by the Laundromat Lady when I didn’t show up on a Sunday to muse?

Turns out Butters is what I have to worry about.

I know this because last night as I was on my belly, inching across the floor – she tried to eat me.


Okay – rewind.

You might like a little back story.

(And funnily enough, that’s what it is.)

I was in my sons room saying ‘goodnight’ and asked ‘Can you crack my back without lifting me?’

Nothing worked, so I lay down on the floor and Nic stepped on me.  I was stretched out and pulled myself forward on my elbows to lengthen my spine.  It felt good.

So while I was down there – of course, I went into tangent mode.

‘What if I had a broken leg and had to get to the door??’


Only way to find out if I could reach the front door was to try it.

You know, like anyone laying on their childs bedroom floor would think to do.  Nothing weird here.

So I’m pulling myself using only upper body strength across his carpet. 

A military belly crawl, only, I wasn’t allowing myself to use my legs – they remained dead weight.  (Remember, my imaginary broken leg … of course, I wasn’t factoring in the pain I’d have to contend with should I actually have a broken leg, but we work with what we have.)

I encountered tile and was unable to get a grip due to my flannel pajama bottoms and fleece sweatshirt.  (*Note to self, break leg in clothing with more traction.)

I should have stopped there – experiment over.  I was screwed once I hit a slippery surface.

But Nic’s in the spirit of things now and pulls me across that obstacle.

Next the kitchen.

By now – Butters has noticed me in a vulnerable position on the ground.  Does she worry?  Look upon me in curiosity?  Go for help?

No! She attacks.

I’m scooting across the kitchen rug and intermittently having my head chewed on. 

I tried playing dead – but she just kept running off and returning to gnaw on me.


“I’ve got her! Go! Go!”

Nic held her back as I inched into the living room.


Why am I still doing this?!?  Because I’d come that far – that’s why.

I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going now, but it was very apparent that if  I were home alone and did have to wriggle to a phone or an exit without using my legs, Butters would be the reason I wouldn’t succeed.

Experiment over.

I hadn’t quite forgiven her after I climbed into bed.

I lay there on my stomach, getting comfortable, my head turned to the right when I heard snorting and felt warmth on the back of my head.



I sleep on a California King sized mattress – there’s enough room for me, Butters and both sets of Charlie Buckets’ grandparents!

Yet, Butters, obviously exhausted from attacking me, was snoring less than 5 inches from the back of my head.


She has a side!  This is ‘homeless dog’ that I took in that now has a side of my bed.  

She doesn’t like to cuddle, so I decided it was likely she was guarding me like one of her bones.

(Oh gawd, what if my imaginary broken leg is a compound fracture?!?!  She’ll try to drag my sticky-out bone off!)

Anyway, she was still tired this morning (good!) so I managed to capture evidence of her close proximity.  Then I just pestered her for photos to be annoying. 

She’s getting really sick of the camera. 

Perhaps I need to remember to break my leg in clothes with traction and a camera around my neck … then I stand a chance.


Butters on the left, my pillow on the right.

Butters on the left, my pillow on the right.

Me being happy I was annoying the dog

Me being happy I was annoying the dog

Checking accounts and cupcakes

Gawd.  One minute you’re waxing poetic about your child entering a new phase in their life, then you come home from work to him draped over his girlfriend on the couch.

Earlier, he stopped by my place of employment after school and we ended up going to the bank to open a checking account for him.  You KNOW I regretted not having my camera on me.  Another milestone for the scrapbook. Two major events … in one day.  How much more could a future-cat-lady mom handle?

On my way home I popped into the store for dog food and got him a ceremonial cupcake to  honor his big day.  🙂

(I figured I’d do the big cake thing on Tuesday, when he dons his cap and gown.)

He proceeded to find said cupcake.  “For me??”  I grinned, “Yes, for the last day of school.”  I was feeling all warm and fuzzy at the joy in his little eyes.

My heart swelled as he reached for a knife and cut it in half.  Awwwwwwww!

Then scurried off to share it with his lady.



It’s all happening so fast!!!   Checking accounts, girlfriends – not sharing cake with me!

So I’m alone with the dog –  and it’s Friday night …  Okay, if I’m being honest, the dog isn’t even that interested in hanging out with me.  Probably she knows I’m a future cat lady and is mulling that prospect over.

So anyway,  I’m getting yet another glimpse of my Life After Child.  Lac.  Very close to Lack.  Coincidence?  I think not.

I suddenly live with an adult who is out of school.

Holy cow.

And I’m posting stupid ecards on Facebook in between vacuuming and wondering whether or not to put my pajamas on yet.

I don’t know how ‘Amanda’ yet.

It occurs to me, this is going to be a transition for us both.  Me, learning how to pull myself from his gravity field, and him … learning I still want to be offered half a cupcake.

EHarmonious enough in my house

There are still single, attractive, sane people in the world you know.  For all of us who have at one time lamented “All the good ones are taken”.  Oh no they’re not. 

They either have ‘I have run out of $#%&’s’ to give about dating’ syndrome. 

Or have decided, ‘Its lovely to be able to pee with the bathroom door open and not have to put down my book when I’m reading in order to engage with someone needing attention’

Or both.

Some, like me, started out with ‘I will focus on raising my child first, then worry about dying alone’ then found that peeing with the door open and reading uninterrupted in the bedroom was something she could get used to.

Others, like a few friends of mine, refused to settle and THEN got comfy not having to adhere to anyone elses schedule, cater to anyone elses desires and needs and also, enjoy being able to pee with the door open.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s still nice to be appreciated.

Went to Wal-Mart yesterday, and a man looked at me and said, “What a beautiful woman”.  It didn’t creep me out.  He said it in earnest and with no apparent ulterior motive.  Nice.  I told him ‘thank you’ and you bet I posted it on my Facebook page.  (At first I left out the part where he said it from his seated position in the electric shopping cart. It was still really nice getting a compliment.)

Received a message from a friend in California that evening. And I quote:

“so, i was at CVS tonight, when i ran into to a guy i use to date in my late teens, early 20’s. I hadn’t seen him for years, we chatted for a few minutes, etc. and he asked i wanted to get dinner sometime. i said yes, as no just seemed rude, and i was intrigued. i get outside and he shows me his ankle bracelet………..he was busted for growing pot last year. He said it was legal for the medicinal marijuana, but they got caught with too much, WHATEVER. he also lives with his parents again…………….SERIOUSLY UNIVERSE WTF, the first time i get asked out in years and this is what i get!”


After I was finished literally laughing out loud, I did point out that at least she got asked out.  Besides, he’s self-employed, close to his family and has great taste in women!  I then laughed my arse right off.

The fact of the matter is, this friend of mine is drop dead gorgeous.  She’s also smart, compassionate, employed, and funny as hell.  But is afflicted with the same lethargy as me. 

It’s just SO nice to be HOME! 

AND we don’t mind being alone.  Crazy as it might sound. We actually like ourselves. Neither of us are lonely when alone. We both did our ‘thang’ in our 20’s.  Trust me when I say we were no wall flowers in those clubs. So there’s this ‘been there, done that’ factor to toss into the mix too.

(The blog is called debauchery soup for a reason friends)

I have decided that our destiny will be to share a home 50 years from now with an abundance of cats and there will be porch time to spin a yarn or two about our 20’s … and 30’s. 


Maybe there’s even a chance we’ll create some stories about our 40’s. 

There is someone who has caught my fancy, but long distance things don’t tend to work out.  Although, to be fair, at this point in my life, and with my energy level, across town is long distance.

First step I suppose: make the effort to go beyond the comfort of  home, and learn to shut the door when peeing.

P.S.  I’ll have you know that today I DID have a date.  Here I am with it.


Phase 1 of ‘cat lady’ … whiskers

I’m going there.  Yes I am.  I’m not afraid.  It’s a natural part of life.

We have reached a tender, special bonding milestone in my home. Mother and son both have to start tending to their facial hair!  Awwww!


What the heck?  It seems like overnight!  My wake up call was the rear view mirror of my car.  The mirror in my bathroom is deceivingly dim.  I knew I had hair on my upper lip … but it was fine and blonde.  Damn rear view mirror.  Mirror of truth.  Mirror of age reveal.  Magic, stupid, daylight mirror!

So now the conundrum of which route to take for my beard and moustache! 


I’m still deciding.  Obviously I don’t want to shave!   Do I want to be a waxing girl?  Tweeze?  Hair removal cream? 

I don’t want to do any of them! 

For this particular sign ‘o the times – I would wish the clock back.

I barely have eyebrows!  Never have had to groom them.  I guess my face was saving all its energy for my chin?

If I was already in my mumu calling my 15 cats to their dinner bowls, I’d just say f#@* it.  But I do still have to leave the house.

Was about to take Nic to a party when this little convo went down.

Nic: Mom … you have – um – a moustache thing here (Points to the right side of the corner of my mouth)

Me: Yeah – I know.  I haven’t decided how to handle it

Nic: (Laughing) Well go shave!!!

Me: NO!

I think it was probably the first time he was embarrassed at the idea of leaving the house with me.

Well get used to it baby – because I believe arm flaps are next – and I’m not wearing long sleeves in the Summer.


Future me


LOL! Found this today and could not resist. 

Not only does it have soup (the debauchery kind I’m sure) – but look! Looky look!

It’s me in a dress made in my favorite color – my long hair that I refuse to cut in a bun, and my future cat.  (The others must be lurking just out of the view of the artist because I threaten to have at least a dozen). 

That’s cranberry juice in the glass as I still don’t drink – and probably that’s a photo of my son on the wall.  He must be doing quite well for himself wearing a suit and all.

Someone must have snuck in and placed that lace doily table-cloth on top of my perfectly ravishing red one, because I wouldn’t have put it there.