Friday, July 31, 2009

The cats extract revenge

Ok, so I taught the cats not to scratch on the bedroom door. Today they got even in a way that only cats can do.

I was working outside today cleaning up the yard and taking care of a lot of the "not-for-sex chores" that guys are supposed to take care of and as a result I was soaked to the bone in sweat and covered in dirt. Since I was home alone I decided to strip down in the garage on the way to take a shower so that I wouldn't have to handle the sweat-soaked clothing again after I was clean. My mistake.

It seems that cats have the power to make you understand exactly what they are saying when they choose to let you in on a conversation. I walked into the kitchen where Emily happened to be sitting and she began to laugh. Then she yelled "Hey guys! Come and see THIS!" (still laughing hysterically).

At this point Daniel runs in (with Bob the kitten right behind him) and begins to chortle uncontrollably. Then he proceeds to say "He's round like a Christmas ornament! Look at that belly!" To which Emily responds "Yes, and it seems that someone didn't hang him too well" and proceeded to roll on the floor laughing. To which Bob responds through uncontrollable giggles "My god! I might even have him beat!"

Damned cats. Of course, you know, this means war......

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Circadian Rythms

First off, I thought choreplay was a novel idea. I've been proven quite wrong. It's actually a feminst plot to undermine the "non-working-at-home" men of the world. Follow the link below, and you'll see what I mean:)


While it may seem original on my part, it's obviously nowhere near truly original.

My body is rebelling against me at the moment. These past couple of weeks I've had to work straight nights to cover for one of my assistants that is on vacation. Normally even if I close I wake up by 10am and start my day. Lately though? I've been craving sleep until 2 or 3 pm. But I have to get up at noon to let the dogs out so that I don't have additional chores to do before I leave for the next shift. It's making me crazy but it's almost over. I'll be back to a normal schedule shortly.

The kids were gone last week on vacation with the grandparents. That really made my workload so much lighter. I only cleaned twice and the place stayed immaculate. As soon as the boys got home the kitchen table was suddenly hidden under mounds of various foodstuff and artifacts, and there was no way you could even see the floor in the living area due to the huge quantities of toys and miscellaneous crap pulled from the bedrooms to be reunited with the children.

I broke down and got a suit for the wedding. There is no way I was going to lose enough weight to get my fat ass into the suit that I have. I suppose it's time to relegate it to the Salvation Army or some such so that a person of "smaller stature" can use the thing while it's still good. It seems that dieting and I simply don't get along in any way. I've been too long not worrying about what I eat and grazing all day to be held to a strict intake of calories. Besides, the dieting is brutal at best, extremely painful at the very least.

Amanda swears that you can't teach a cat anything.... I disagree. One of the cats liked to scratch on the bedroom door (the bedroom is a cat-free zone) any time one of us went in there. Her solution was to kick the door from the inside at which time the cat would usually stop scratching until it decided that she wasn't coming out, then it would start up again. My solution was a bit more elegant and straight-forward: I put a towel down under the door with the majority of it on the outside where the cat would be. When the cat started scratching I walked over and yanked the towel into the bedroom causing the cat the slam against the door and probably scaring the crap out of it. I haven't heard it scratching at the door since. I think cats can learn:)

Hound, however, doesn't seem quite as bright. I can't help but to love the little mutt though.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

The Definition of Cooking

There is an ongoing debate in the household: The definition of cooking.

I work 10-12 hours a day preparing food for others. Even though I am a manager, I spend copious quantities of time making food for someone else. I rarely eat at work simply because there is no time to sit and enjoy a meal. You grab a quick bite here and there as you can, if you can.

She works in an office environment. There is a languid lunch hour that can be used to dine out or microwave something quick depending on the work-load at the moment. I've never heard of her preparing food for the rest of the office, or anyone else for that matter.

That forms the basis of the great debate:)

When I get in from work, I'm usually famished and looking for something to eat. Her answer is often "why don't you just cook something?". My reply is always: "I hate cooking".

My definition of cooking is anything that involves the preparation of food to be consumed. This includes microwaving, toasting, spreading mayo, and opening cans. Her definition is spending an hour or more over the stove.

Once when I came in I went into the kitchen to get something to eat. She asked me what I was doing and I told her I was cooking a sandwich, to which she replied "Making a sandwich is NOT cooking". I argued the point that it was. After several minutes of back and forth over the issue, she worked toward getting the upper hand by saying that "cooking" was the application of heat to something.

Ha! Then *I* am right!!!! You see, if you take a slice of bread out and spread mayo on it, the mayo gains heat from the surrounding air since it's now out of the fridge. If you open a can, the friction from the can opener actually applies a minute amount of heat to the surrounding food item contained within. If you think about it, any handling of food items causes a rise in temperature, no matter how small. It would take a sterile lab environment with special equipment to avoid any heat transfer when something is handled. So making a sandwich, technically, is cooking (according to the given definition).

She, of course, disagrees. That is her option:)

Saturday, July 11, 2009

My Dog, Myself

I'm not sure who should be writing this.... me, or the dog.

I was thinking tonight (I'm dangerous when I think, just ask Amanda) and I came up with a list of things that the dog and I have in common:

  • I'm extremely happy and excited when Amanda walks in the door in the evenings.
  • If I look at her with puppy-dog eyes she'll always give me a hug and a kiss.
  • When she gets that look in her eyes I know that I've been bad.
  • When I have been bad, she makes me sleep with the cats.
  • She doesn't like it when I lick her nose.
  • The cats are out to get me at every opportunity.
  • She feeds me, since I can't cook.
  • I eat all of the leftovers and scraps in the fridge.
  • I'm not allowed on the furniture until I've had a bath.
  • I am strongly encouraged to only pee in the designated area.
  • I love it when she scratches me all over.

There are likely more areas where we match perfectly, and there are some where we just don't jive by any stretch of the imagination (I can't lick my own balls.... and even if I could reach I doubt that I'd lick my own butt.)

There are definite advantages to being the human in this equation...it just amazes me how much like the dog I am;)

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Is it raining?

It's the 4th of July and we go to brother-in-law's house for a family gathering. The children love to go because he has a swimming pool which they enjoy greatly. They also have a 2-year old cousin that the kids enjoy playing with as well.

Today the 2-year old was swimming naked because sometimes children that age just don't want to wear clothes. And as long as they aren't fussing, why not?

The 6 year old decided he would swim the great divide- in other words, swim from one side of the pool to the other. So he starts on the side across from the ladder. In the meantime, the 2 year old heeded the call of nature, and was making a pretty good fountain display while standing between the hand-rails of the ladder. Right about this time the 6 year old makes the arduous crossing and pops his head up right under a warm yellow stream eminating from the obvious source above.

I wish I had a camera. It was one of those priceless moments:)