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Thursday, January 31, 2013

Notta Cat Fez

The other morning I was walking down my walkway to my car. It was a beautiful spring day in January... Ah, you just gotta love Oklahoma weather.  A large cat high tailed it from beneath the carport and headed across the street. A younger gray cat froze in place as if he didn't know which way to high tail it. He slunk back from me as I got in my car (obviously he had heard nasty rumors about my driving), and watched me drive away. I didn't think much of it, the cat population on our street has taken a dramatic upswing in the last year or so and I had no idea who had a cat and who didn't except I knew for sure I didn't. Last year after being the target of a cat with behavioral issues, I gave my Persian, Morph the Cat, to my son's girlfriend. I had swore off cats for good, even though I'd had one since I left home. Nope, no more cats for me... No more cat litter, cat fuzz, or cat puke.... I was cat free. When I came home later that evening, little Mr. Gray cat popped up out of the ground cover that blanketed my garden. He had made himself a little cave and looked very happy to see me. Now, just because I don't currently have a cat, doesn't mean I hate cats... I don't. So naturally, his great big round eyes the color of jade tugged st heartstrings just a tad as I made my way inside. I came in the house, laid down my stuff and walked back outside to see what was up with the little visitor. When I came out, he came running up toward me, but then backed away suddenly shy. He seemed wild, and clearly still a kitten, but obviously old enough to be on his own. He was just your everyday run of the mill cat... Nothing designer or Cream Brulee about him, yet he was so cute. I stood still and watched the inner debate "Should I get closer... Should I run away", he seemed to have going on. Finally I did what any tender hearted person would do, I went in the house, grabbed a can of chicken and some milk. I didn't want the poor thing to starve, and he looked like he had no place else to go. When he saw me come out of the house with my hands full of wonderful smelling catty things, the stomach seemed to win the inner debate. He wound around my ankles as I tried to walk to the carport. He suddenly didn't seem a bit shy about showing affection. I knelt down with his food. He waited until I had stood and taken a step back before he attacked the chicken and milk. While he ate his meal, I began my own inner debate.... "I don't really want a cat.... But, just because I feed a cat doesn't make the cat mine.... Mike will be very upset if I get a cat... Well, just because you're feeding the cat, doesn't mean you even have to tell Mike about the cat.... It could be my not-my-cat cat that just happens to hang out outside our house. I can play innocent, and in a way I really will be because I don't know whose cat it is or where it came from." There! Inner debate solved. I would feed the cat, yet not get attached to it and I wouldn't tell Mike. I could honestly say I had Notta cat. Having solved that debate, I ran back in the house to change clothes. When I heard Mike pull up, I peeked through the blinds to see if he spied the cat and it's food under the carport. He got out of his truck and didn't seem to notice... Typical man!  Every day I watched out the window to see if he would realize there was a cat now living under the carport. One night I thought for sure he saw Notta cat, but didn't react to it at all. Saturday afternoon, he walked through the kitchen as he took out the trash..... "I take it you've met Fez" he said more than asked.  "Fez? Fez?.... Are you talking about the cat? Is that YOUR cat outside?!?!" Then he told me how he had rescued it and brought it home from work. It was one out of a litter that had been born under a motorcycle crate at the Honda Shop and the only one he had successfully tamed enough to pick up.  So, all this time, I thought I was being sneaky by feeding Notta cat, when really he was the sneaky one. Well, I've never!... Well, actually have, on several occasions, which is exactly where he learned such stealthy tactics. I've been tripped up by my own trick.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

The Wind Beneath My Wings


When I think of you, I think of giggles and smiles and questions.... Lots and lots of questions. You will never know how much I miss the days that we sat across from each other at Universal. Everything about you was innocent, sincere and oh so curious. You see all of me and love me still. When I look at myself through your eyes, I feel so unworthy of your friendship. In the truest sense of the words, you have been the Barbara Hershey to my Beaches: The Wind Beneath My Wings. I've watch as you have grown through tremendous trials and heartbreak. If I could take away every doubt, every tear and heal every life wound for you, I would do so in the beat of a heart. I know that as you celebrate your birthday today, a huge chunk of you is missing.... But only in the physical. You have a heavenly realm that watches over you every day, and loves you to the sky and back. Happy Birthday my beautiful friend.
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face; the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His
Hand.

All My Love,
Jaquetta Jane

Monday, January 28, 2013

Great Minds... Is Such a Piece of Cake!!!!!

I had a plans this weekend to take my best friend out for her birthday dinner.  We used to work together (like together, together) with our desks three feet apart. When we worked together, we didn't have an emotion, thought or event that the other didn't know about.  When I quit to have baby #3, and after she had kids, it became increasingly more difficult to eke out time to just sit and visit.  I've found that her birthday is the perfect time for me to be selfish and tell her I want her all to myself for a few hours. During our dinner, we will pull out every emotions, thought and event that has taken place since our last visit and spill it all on the table to mix,  hash, analyze, laugh and cry over.  We have to squeeze it all into this one evening and it will be fabulous!!!!!! So, last week I perused the Internet for a "Best Friend Cake", looking for the perfect cake to express my deep affections in a confection masterpiece.  This cake had to be UBBER special, because she is UBBER special. And I'm sorry, don't want to offend anyone, but ubber special cakes don't come from Homeland or Walmart.... I'm just saying. Maybe it's me, but I have to go out of my way to find a "special" something. That's why if my husband wants to get me something special, he usually goes to The Ginger Jar. He could buy me a bundle of sticks, but if they are wrapped in wrapping from The Ginger Jar, and they have The Ginger Jar sticker on the front, I'm a happy little camper.... And that's exactly how my friend feels too. So I printed off a copy of the ubber special cake I found and headed down to a special cake place to put my order in. My lack of planning kind of bit me in the butt on this one. My special bakery was especially booked and couldn't do my cake when I needed it. The idea of doing the ubber special cake myself, flashed through my mind like a lightening bolt, and disappeared just as quickly. I didn't think my kitchen could handle me learning the art of cake decorating. I have a tendency to cook like I paint.... Sugar, flour, icing, it all ends up all over me and all over the house.  The cake would taste great, and I betcha it would be ubber pretty, but my kitchen may never recover. I did the only thing I knew to do in this social media society we live in... I put out an SOS on Facebook.  I got an email from a friend that said (this is so cute)....

Her:  "Dear sweet Jackie. Let me introduce myself... I am Robin and I make cakes as a hobby... When are you needing a cake?

Me: OMG!! I do, I do, I'm taking my very best friend in the whole wide world out Sunday night and wanted a bitty cake just big enough for two but spectacularly girly.... Can you do that?

Her: ...Flavor?

Me: Strawberry

Her: Alrighty, I will call you when it's ready.

That was just too easy. Isn't Facebook the most amazing thing ever! Not wanting to jinx my luck, I didn't mention the fact that I had a picture of the cake that I wanted. I had confidence that whatever she did would be perfect so I put it out of my mind, breathed a sigh of thanksgiving and went on with my week hoping, my ubber cake was in good hands. Sunday afternoon she texted me saying she was headed my way with the cake. When I opened the door, I could not believe my eyes. The cake she held in her hands, was the cake I had printed off the Internet. She might have thought I was just being nice when I literally gasped with surprise, but I wasn't being nice at all. It must have been divine intervention, ESP, or we were just creepily on the same thought pattern, because when I told her that was EXACTLY the design I had printed off to take to the bakery!!! She  laughed and said this was the first time she had ever done it. She had found it on Pinterest and thought she'd try it out on my ubber special cake. All I can say is....  Great minds think alike.... Scary huh? Thank you so much Robin, for the ubber special, spectacularly girlie confection masterpiece. You are D' Bomb!

Friday, January 25, 2013

Hey, I Can Be Practical

Sometimes I forget to look in the mirror before leaving for work in the morning. It's a habit that I've come to regret on more than one occasion when half way through the day I find my clothes inside out or on backwards. Okay, sometimes I wear them backwards because they look better, but I never wear them inside out because they look better. This morning I put on a cardigan sweater with jeweled buttons with tube thingie underneath. I came in a little early, which turned out to be a good thing. I ordered my breakfast from the vending machine (Cheetos), sat down with my Dr. Pepper 10 and booted up my
computer. When I finished my Cheetos, I ran to the bathroom to wash the orange cheesy goodness off my fingers and looked in the mirror to discover a wardrobe malfunction. My cardigan was doing that stretchy thing that left gaping holes between the jeweled buttons. Being the practical person I am, I opted to not run home and change outfits, but rather, grabbed some T-pins to do a quick fix. As carefully as I could, I pinned my sweater from the inside which worked like a charm. The only problem with
my wardrobe repair was, I was afraid I'd move the wrong direction and puncture a lung or something.... Okay, so I was more concerned with the "or something" than I was with the lung. What to do, what to do? I opened my drawer and dug out a roll of packing tape. I taped over the pins and waa-laa, cardigan in place, no prickly pins poking my precious. I walked a little stiff until lunch so the packing tape wouldn't make a scrunching noise when I walked, but other than that, everything was "Right as rain". Who says I'm not practical???

Thursday, January 24, 2013

It's Not Sleep Ellipticalling, It's Survival


I've been hitting the gym lately attempting to shake off those nasty holiday pounds and get things firmed up for my class reunion cruise in a couple of weeks. Due to a sudden uptick of violence in our area, my husband has lovingly requested I not go walking in the dark. The request is sweet, but it also means I'm back in the gym with other sweaty bodies all focused on an array of televisions tuned to different channels. For the record.... 5 -6 televisions with different shows, visually overwhelms me. I listen to my music, so it's not that I care people are watching TV, it's just that my eyes are constantly bouncing around the room. If eye bouncing helped me burn more calories (and I don't think it does),then I'd be okay with it, but bouncing without benefits is just tiring. That being said, this is what I don't understand.... Why (why, why, why) would you go to the gym and workout while watching the food network or some other cooking show? Doesn't
that seem... Oh, I don't know.... Counterproductive!?!? I used to go to the gym at lunch, which meant I was working out instead of eating, the entire wall of TVs would be tuned to cooking shows.... Hello, anyone home?!? Maybe others aren't as visually stimulated by the sight of food like myself, but an hour of watching the food network makes me want to stab my eyes out and then rush
myself to Braums for a double cheese burger, chili cheese fries and a 44 oz milkshake to dull the pain. Instead of enduring the torture, I do the elliptical with my eyes close. I'm sure it makes me look like I'm sleep ellipticalling (my spell checker doesn't like that word because it's a Jackieism), but it's the only thing that keeps me from wanting to lick the workout equipment which on a weirdness scale would have to rate way higher than sleep ellipticalling. Seriously, don't you think it would?