*If you want to make a comment, please click on the title of the post…sorry. Don’t know why the comment button at the bottom of the post isn’t functional. I’ll get around to figuring it out after I’m done complaining.*

I’ve been biting my tongue about politics and the various campaigns for the presidency. It isn’t because I don’t have an opinion. Hell will freeze over before I am caught without an opinion, let alone one as important as how the next four to eight years of my life will be influenced. That’s right. When you really get down to business, it’s really all about me.

Just kidding.

But I have been circling my wagons, and keeping an eye on the situation. It’s quite challenging to watch debates like the one CNN aired last night when I was lovingly kneading what would turn out to be a fragrant braid of Finnish Pulla. Does Mitt Romney ever, EVER stop talking? And does he ever NOT have that smirk on his face? I can barely bring myself to listen to anything he says. And when I hear him, I don’t believe any of it.

Remember the old Charlie Brown cartoons on television? When the adults spoke, they sounded like, “Mwha-wah-wha-mwah-wah-ah…”. That would be Mitt for me, except his diatribe is more like, “blahblahblahblahdee-blahdee-blahhhhhhh. Chuckle.” Go ahead and plug your nose, grin like a silly ass and try it. It’s annoying. He’s annoying. His eyes are glittery, which can’t be good. And he’s accomplished at the “he said, she said” junior high school game which doesn’t look good on a man in his position. Wait. Dubyah’s good at it, too.

Ugh. It’s all so depressing. *this is the part where Chicken Little can be heard saying, “The sky is falling…the sky is falling…”*

Not too long ago, NPR was interviewing people about the Republican candidate they’d most likely vote for and why, and more than one woman in the “my age” bracket actually mentioned that at least he “looked presidential,” and that’s why they’d vote for him.

Excuse me?

Don’t you wonder about people who actually don’t have a problem saying things like that for a national audience? Okay, so ANY audience. Oh. My. Gawd.

Or my personal favorite comes from women who state that they vote the way their husbands vote. You know, so they won’t cancel each other out? Huh? They’re kidding, right? As much as one might think these voters could be compared to June Cleaver, I’d say June was a tough mother and most likely had Ward voting her way or else he’d be sleeping with the Beev. Yanno?

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I know I said I wouldn’t be here for a bit, but one of the main reasons I keep this little place in the giant scheme of things is to mark the passing of time and the aspects of life that punctuate it. You know — highs, lows, hilarity, and things that pierce the heart…

Blackitty came home today. And as much as I can say that I am relieved, my emotions are a bit raw again, as I knew they would be.

As they should be.

I had no idea there was so much support out there for people who have lost a dear pet.

I’m amazed. So I’m passing it along.

The Association for Pet Loss and Bereavement

Pet Loss Support Page

Furry Angel

UC Davis Pet Loss Support

Grief Healing

Delta Society

American Veterinary Medical Association

Well, it’s been exactly a week since I had the rude awakening of taking my lovely cat, Blackitty, to the vet and having to leave him there. I can say I’m thankful for the passing of time. Very thankful.

Scouring through all the photographs I have of him and putting them together in a digital album that will be printed and bound was very theraputic. Having a gigantic image of him on my monitor also helps because I smile at his loveliness each time I sit down to write. I seem to have developed the practice of cybernose scratching with the mouse arrow which does humor me, but seems completely pathetic. If you’re thinking I’ve crossed over some line and am headed to the nut farm, you’ve probably right. But I’ll be just fine. I don’t have my head permanently buried in the sand…

I’m completely aware that some French guy scammed one of their largest banks to the tune of $7 billion.

And that Dubyah is desperately trying to keep the U.S. presence in Iraq for the next 10 years and wouldn’t that be just great to whomever moves in to clean up the complete mess he’s made of everything over the past seven grueling years.

And that the stock market has been completely nuts and that it is having quite the impact on world economics…

Or that there’s just something wrong with the idea that a young woman can be missing and the police investigating can immediately turn to the umpteen gazillion registered sex offenders who live in her area to find out if they had anything to do with it. *insert disgusted head shaking here*

That American Idol is back, and am I mistaken or is there a new and gentler Simon and much better auditions early on that the crap we were subjected to last year? Thanks to BeckEye of The Pop Eye, my up-to-the-minute source on all things Idol. And if you didn’t click on the American Idol link, you missed her wit — and Simon in undies.

Also, that Atonement, which the MoH and I saw a few weeks ago and were mesmerized by, has been nominated for quite a few Oscars, including best picture. And don’t I just not like film critics — the epitome of “those who can’t act, direct, or produce…criticize.” Can a movie ever really be as good as the book that inspired it? No.

That this famous blogger most likely had her trip to Paradise ruined since we were POUNDED with rain and even hail last night. I hear that even more is due tomorrow. Paradise is fickle like that. And dang. One-hundred seventy-seven comments on a post is amazing. Yah think? I might be able to muster…oh, about 5 if I write about the piece of orzo that just fell between the B and N on my keyboard. No. Wait. I already did that.

And finally, that our favorite hotel in Vegas is trying to burn down…

I’m going to be working in the basement of this blog over the next few days to a week (real Wordpress upgrade, new header, page revisions, and theme…) so thanks ahead of time for your patience. And if you’re completely bored or can’t sleep at night, head on over to & Veracity: My alter ego" target="_blank">my little slice of foodland, because I’ll be pretty busy there over there trying to convince myself I love it as much as I do this one. As much as I know who I am as a cook, I struggle with the part of me that does the writing there. The photography learning curve is a 45 degree angle and my tongue hangs out routinely on that. The settings on the camera, the fact that most of the photos are taken at night, halogen, vs tungsten vs natural light…Jeez. I just want to make the stuff, okay? It is enjoyable, though, even if it’s as time consuming as it is.

I must be doing something right because I actually got my first two — yes, I said TWO — pieces of spam on my other site. In the same amount of time, this one has been hit by 4,318. I’ve also just received & Veracity" target="_blank">my first crappy comment over there. Now, I do have to confess that it had me going until I did a bit of research. The loser who posted the comment is the type of “blogger” (and I hesitate to use the word since I don’t think this particular brand of human can actually get credit for blogging…) who barfs and runs. You know the type. But in this case, the email address that accompanies the post came back immediately when I tried to use it, and the IP address was a dead end. So I looked around Whois, and found out that the whole thing was designed to lead me to a site where a domain was for sale. Whatever. Slime bag. Cockroach. Bottom dwelling mud sucker. I left the comment up and my response if you feel like getting worked up over people who do whatever they can to aggravate the rest of us to make a buck. For all I know, the scum is a neighbor and I’ll see him drive by with a shiny new car and plates similar to the ones I saw at the grocery store the other day that said LINK AD.

Sometimes, life isn’t as kind to the good guys, is it?

Anyhoo, have a swell weekend!

Ever feel like something is creeping up on you?

And for me, that means tomorrow is Friday. Thursday is my Friday. I shouldn’t look forward to it the way I do because it inevitably leaves me with the feeling that life is stuck in one of those giant revolving doors that move people in an out of large spaces.

So I remind myself to take a breath, slow my mind down, and appreciate the day.

There’s quite a bit to appreciate.

There isn’t 12 feet of snow on the ground.

I don’t have to scrape ice off my driveway or windshield.

I can wear a single layer to work instead of R-30 insulation.

Everything’s green.

Best Buy finally delivered a new television and the Geek Squad will be here in a couple of days to put it back on the wall.

And American Idol will keep us riveted to the television a few hours a week for a while.

What more could I ask for?

Okay, so it would be great if Hilary and Obama would stop bickering at one another.  And Mitt Romney would take over the hosting of Jeopardy! and give Alex Trebek a rest.

Then, life would be perfect.

I got my wish. Greyness and clouds have blanketed the skies of Paradise the last couple of days, and although we’ll never begin to imagine the coldness much of the country is experiencing right now, 56 degrees at mid day is chilly.

After a three day weekend, the teens were slow to start this morning during my carpool duty. It was especially quiet: no shuffling through papers in last minute preparation for a test, or talk of a recent session on XBox. Totally silent. Regardless, they’re great kids, always responding to my “Good Morning” with their own greeting, and an immediate “Thank you” as we arrive at the curb where I let them off. Even in their subdued state today, they muttered thanks and slowly walked onto campus. As I pulled away from the curb, I glanced at their downcast faces nearly lost inside the hoods of their sweatshirts, and remembered how much I used to not like Tuesdays.

On these early days, I have time to detour for coffee before heading for work, but try not to make it a habit. I see no reason to spend three or four dollars for something I’ve already had a portion of at home before leaving, and can get free at work if I choose. If it was routine, well, then it would be a routine and not something to look forward to. Today, I did stop, though. It’s easy to tell the Pannekin was once an old house, with hardwood floors that creak as I wait my turn, and a fire that warms the room. The man and woman behind the counter are cheerful without fail, smiling, attentive. I respond to their “Good Morning” with my own, avoiding even a glance at the fresh cinnamon rolls, pastries, and slices of pie. Last Thursday, I couldn’t resist a raspberry scone, and decided that although it was quite tasty, there was no way I could get away with this business of coffee and a sweet. Oh well.

My extra large cappuccino with an extra shot can help make my brief and rarely trying drive to work even more enjoyable. I listen to the incessant doom and gloom NPR eloquently rolls out each morning, objectively observe the drivers around me darting in and around one another in an attempt to get just one more car length ahead, and take an occasional dark-roasty sip.

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So, life goes on, of course.

The RTR has a holiday today in spite of the fact that the MoH and I have to go to work. What? Like clients who happen to have a holiday as well will be busting the doors down to get their taxes taken care of?

Um.

Not.

And yes, the Chargers lost. But yanno? They totally gave Bill something to think about. And without their bestest, 100% healthy team. After dealing with the ups and downs of the Chargers for umpteen gazillion years, we’re pretty pleased with the effort. And bummed that Green Bay didn’t win, of course. But the bright side of that is that I’m sure all the talking heads are pissed now because they couldn’t have their back-up dream match up for the Thooper Bowl. BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I am so glad for that. Boring farts. East Coast biased sports crap. It just gets so completely OLD after a while. They all need to get over them selves.

Besides, that fat lady still hasn’t begun to sing. I can’t HEEEEEAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR her Bill cheating Belichick. Now where was that vodoo doll I bought the last time I was in New Orleans? Hmmmm….
And sadly, the Best Buy saga is almost at an end. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, count yourself lucky. I finally relinquished my grip on the situation with the television, the MoH called, and voila. He was told it would be taken care of. Just. Like. That.

I guess it’s true that no one enjoys a harpy. But the reality is that someone’s gotta stir the pot before the closer comes in. Yah. Whatever.

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I need the sky to be grey and angry looking. I want the wind to blow and rain to fall. But it’s blue as far as I can see.

I don’t want to hear the kids at the end of the block playing in the cul-de-sac. But they’re laughing and screaming at one another, having fun.

I want the trees to be bare like they’re supposed to be in the winter, and not green with signs of spring already.

I’m not in the right frame of mind for blooming and regrowth. Sprouting and budding.

I thought it might be good to bury my head in the pillows until about noon, but knew that was never going to happen. And once I’m awake, the last thing I want to do is lay there and think. Not today. Especially today.

I headed for the bathroom acknowledging my numb around the edges self, knowing that I wouldn’t see Blackitty, and wondering whether my ugly, red, puffy eyes could actually squeeze out more tears. They felt like they wanted to. And right when I could feel the wave of grief begin to wash over me, the door nudged forward and my dog’s big golden head and soft brown eyes pushed into the space, tentatively, seeking permission. Her cold wet nose bumped against my knee and I could hear the thump of her tail against the vanity as I scratched her head to say thank you for continuing Blackitty’s routine.

A very nice dog.

So amazing.

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