The Melting Pot

There's the Melting Pot and then there's the melting pot. We are waiting for pizza in the crisp cold breeze that is blowing through our open window. Brrr! Cold is hardly what was happening in the kitchen a half hour ago. The silvery orange glow of several blobs of...is that metal?...greeted me when I went back in the kitchen to check on the steamed corn on the cob. If only I had learned the first time I melted a pot, that you should never caddy corner a pot lid when steaming vegetables on Hi heat. Yes, this is the second pot I have melted. Come to my house if you are in the mood for the melting pot. I can provide it with all the smoke and whistles.

The Mouse's Cat

I grew up around cats. Cats everywhere. Cats cats cats. So many that when I moved away on my own I would think I saw shadows of cats circling me, hiding behind my furniture... mocking me. I did not take to cats the way everyone else in my family did. If one jumped on my bed while I was asleep, I would push them off. If one was in my seat I would say, "Move, cat." I never had to feed them, because I never pet them. Once, one of our cats was dying and I felt bad for her and went to pet her. She was too weak to move, or I'm sure she would have walked away. Instead she looked at me like I was the Grim Reaper, probably thinking, "Now I know I'm dying if she is coming to pet me." Me and cats were like oil and water.

I liked mice, not real mice, of course, but cute cuddly stuffed mice. I collected them and my family's nick name for me is Mouse. Mice are rather nice.

That brings us to the present. It was a dark and wintry night, and day, and another night and another day. Freezing temperatures, even snow in the South. No person or pets should have been be out in that cold cold weather and yet every night for a couple of weeks, my sister and I heard the cries of a cold, lonely cat outside our window. It wasn't my cat. It wasn't my responsibilty. The old me, the "Move, cat" me didn't really pay attention and then...the cat's persistence began to break through my cold mouse-loving exterier. Mew. Mew. Mew. I heard her cries at 11pm when I went to bed, at 2:30am when I got up for some water, again at 4:30 when I got up for the bathroom. And on into the next day. Mew.

The next night was a dark and stormy night. The world was getting soaked with rain. The world was shivering cold, too. And from my warm bed at 11:30pm that night, the cat broke through. The thought came in so real it scared me. I was getting involved with the neighbor's irresponsibility. I was going to take a stand. Kathryn went outside and brought the cat in for me and I raced her upstairs and closed my bedroom door. (We have living with us the world's loudest dog, who LOVEs to chase this poor cat.) She was soaked and muddy and freezing. I was only going to keep her one night and let her back out, but the more I learned from Kathryn about the situation of the cat-- she had been inside the neighbor's apartment all summer and then when it got cold they left her outside all the time.

Well, I kept her. I name her Bell because she had a collar with one jingle bell on it.

I will write more of my adventures with Bell in blogs to come. I have neglected my blog, because I have been trying to come home and play with Bell. My computer is not in the same room. I'm glad to be back for a moment. Hope to see you soon.

Crazy Sheila

They call her Crazy Sheila. When she was fourteen she got on a bus in Denver and rode to Provo, Utah because she had read that Donny Osmond and his family had a compound there. She was determined to find him and tell him that he got engaged to young, that he should wait for her. She found it, but he and his family were not there. She only had $13, so she had to go back to the bus station to catch a bus home. Only there was an 18 hour wait, during which time the police had been called. Her family was looking for her. They thought she had been staying at her grandmother's for Christmas. It turned out her grandmother had taken her to the bus stop to catch a bus for another town in Utah, where her aunt and uncle lived. But Crazy Sheila went in search of her idol and not her relatives. Needless to say she got in a lot of trouble for this for years to come. Today she is 46 and has never been married. She has never met Donny, but said she guesses she is still waiting for him.

I heard about Crazy Sheila on the Dom and Jane morning radio show out of Denver. She called in for the last caller of the day segment. She said she had been trying to call them since December 9th--Donny Osmond's 50th birthday, but could never get through. Each day they pick a winner for the best last call and Crazy Sheila won on that day, three days ago. It just so happened that in her prize pack was a pair of binnoculars, which could aid in her further stalking Donny.

I was so happy to know Crazy Sheila's story. A little crazier than my own. Whew.

Life's Little Surprises

This was a headline on CNN today and I almost fainted. ;) I didn't know I got the part!
"Pattinson and Thurman to Co-star in Sexy Bel-Ami".

Just Say Something Dammit!

I hate to leave my last blog up for so long, but I have no humorous little stories to add. Just trying to recoup from being sick so long. Yesterday I slept almost all day long. Today I am reading a very fun book. I just wrote an e-mail to the author and added her to the blogs I follow. Her name is Jennifer Ashley. The book is called "Confessions of a Lingerie Addict." Hardly me, but the book is so much fun! So I am off to continue my read.

"Wildflower"

In college I video-taped the Lifetime movie "Wildflower" starring Patricia Arquette, who plays 'Alice' and William McNamara who plays 'Sammy'. It is based on the novel "Alice" by Sara Flannigan. I have a copy of this novel and it is one of my very favorites. It is about an abused teenage girl who lives in a shed and has had little or no education and no friends. Two young neighbors (Sammy and Ellie) discover her and befriend her. I have watched the movie enough (I own the DVD now) to have memorized the lines and how they are said too. One of the lines I picked up and often say to myself is "Goodbye, Sammy." Alice is trying to forget Sammy, whom she loves, but whom deeply hurt her. Alice is hard of hearing so when she talks she often pronounces words as if she had a perpetual cold, so when she says Sammy, it comes across almost as Tammy. (BTW, I think Patricia Arquette did a wonderful job in this role.) She says, "Good bye, Tam-MEE!" with much finality that I started saying it for all the things I wish to never experience again.

I do not like New Year's Eve. It is too sad with all the looking back on the past year's transgressions. The new year will come whether I have a say in it or not, so I don't mind just going to bed early. However, I hate being left out of things, so I usually stay up to be a part of something the whole world is sharing in. But this year, I am just going to lie in bed and hopefully not cough all night from this horrible sinus infection I caught for the second time this month. I am going to watch movies.

And to 2009, a year that caused me pain, I say "Good bye, Tam-mee!"

I welcome in 2010 and hope to make myself better in this year, so when things I can't control take me by surprise, I will be in a better place to accept them.

Goodnight. Happy New Year!

The Hotel Next Door Comes to 401 Chestnut

Well, it has come full circle. So I was sitting in my freezing cold cozy little office minding my own business, when in walked two women from the hotel next door. They were out delivering invitations for a wine tasting on Tuesday. One of the women kept smiling at me like a goon. I kept glancing over at her thinking she looked familiar. But no, I don’t think I ever saw her before, however, her long curly hair kept haunting me until it hit me like a lightening bolt—she was the hostess who went into the kitchen and told “Edward” “Victoria says hi!” She’s the cause of my mortification over the past two months. Okay, maybe that’s not fair. I’m the cause of it, but she aided and abetted. When they left, I looked at the flyer and for 30 seconds I considered going to the soiree. But then thought, why would I pay $10 to attend a wine tasting when I don’t like the way wine tastes? And maybe “Edward” would be there, (it would be dark and they may let him out of the basement where I believe he has been hiding with all the other local vampires), but the more I think of it, uck, its just another occasion for me to embarrass myself. And I’ve also decided, its no fun anymore. The thrill is gone. I mean, I’ll still write posts if anything interesting comes up, but other than that—who needs it, right?